A Handful of Sovereigns

by Anna King

  ‘No, no, really, I’d love to see them. Please tell them they’re welcome any time that’s convenient for them.’

  ‘If that’s the case, I think I can safely say I’ll be seeing you both later tonight.’ Bending slightly from the waist he doffed his bowler in Maggie’s direction. ‘As for my clothes… well, I couldn’t be seen visiting a young lady dressed as a common labourer, now could I? What would the neighbours think?’ Chuckling softly he closed the door behind him.

  ‘What are you grinning about?’ Maggie demanded of her brother. ‘You look like a Cheshire cat.’

  Undaunted, Charlie picked up the grease-stained paper and laughed. ‘He still fancies yer. And I’ll tell yer something else, so does Hugh. I’ve seen the way he looked at yer when yer was bad, good job he’s engaged, ain’t it?’

  Maggie felt the smile slip from her face. ‘Don’t say that, Charlie, don’t ever say such a thing again, do you hear me?’ she shouted wildly.

  ‘‘Ere, don’t go on like that, you’ll make yerself bad again,’ Charlie muttered uncomfortably. ‘I was only saying as how…’

  ‘Well, don’t say it, you’re letting your imagination run away with you. Now get this mess tidied up; if we’ve got company tonight I want the place to look nice.’

  His face miserable now, Charlie put the screwed paper under his arm and picked up the three mugs. Biting back the retort that had sprung to his lips, he walked with heavy steps into the scullery. It wasn’t fair, he thought with childish resentment. There was no need for her to go for him like that. As for getting the place tidy… He shrugged his shoulders defiantly. They’d all seen it in a worse state than a few bits of paper lying about. Biting on his lower lip he put the mugs in the wooden sink then gazed at the wall, his expression worried. He shouldn’t have said anything about Hugh, it had just sort of slipped out. But it was true what he’d said, Hugh did fancy Maggie, and it wasn’t just him that thought so.

  Harry and Miss Lotte had noticed it too, although of course they hadn’t said anything. All of a sudden he felt a deep sorrow for Miss Lotte, she was too nice to have to watch her fiancé moon over another woman. Still they’d be married next year, he hoped. But what if Hugh decided to go after Maggie instead?

  Shaking his head he rinsed the mugs in the warm, soapy water. His earlier feelings of euphoria vanished as he realised for the first time the seriousness of the situation. Up until now Harry had watched with mild amusement his younger brother’s tender administrations towards his patient, but now that Maggie was better Hugh might decide to dump Miss Lotte and make a play for her. And if that happened all hell would break loose. Sighing deeply, he put the mugs on the draining board. Why, when things were just starting to get better, did something have to spoil it? Why couldn’t life be simple?

  In the sitting room Maggie was thinking along the same lines. If what Charlie said was true then she would have no choice but to sever all contact between herself and the Stewart brothers. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble between the two men, and there was also Lotte to consider. Even though Maggie had never actually ‘met’ her, she felt a sense of loyalty towards the woman who had been so kind to her, and would do anything to prevent her from being hurt. Please, she prayed silently, let Charlie be wrong; please let him be wrong.

  Eighteen

  Later that evening the room was once again filled with laughter. The men were grouped around the clean but scarred wooden table, their buttocks resting precariously on two, spindly legged, straight-backed chairs, while Charlie sat comfortably on an upturned orange box, his boyish face furrowed in concentration as he studied the cards he held in his hands. ‘It’s your bet, Charlie,’ Harry said, his eyes twinkling with merriment at the young boy’s earnest expression.

  ‘Wait a minute, Harry, I ain’t got the hang of this game yet,’ Charlie cried plaintively.

  Keeping a straight face Harry said solemnly, ‘I’m sorry, Charlie, but you’ve had enough time to study your cards. Now you must either make a bet or fold.’

  ‘I say, Harry, give the boy a chance,’ Hugh interjected. ‘It is his first time at poker after all.’

  Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed. Poor Hugh, he had absolutely no sense of humour at all. Couldn’t he see that he was merely indulging in a little harmless fun with the boy?

  ‘I think I’d better fold,’ Charlie said gloomily. ‘I’ve got one of each suit and not a pair among ’em.’ Laying his cards on the table he waited until Harry and Hugh finished the game before asking, ‘How about a game of canasta? I know how ter play that.’

  Harry swept the small pile of matches that represented his winnings towards him, saying cheerfully, ‘Well now, that depends on your sister. It’s been a long day for her, and she’s probably wondering when we’re going to leave but is too polite to say so.’

  Harry turned his head to where the two women were chatting amiably, their bodies comfortably encased in the armchairs on either side of the empty fireplace.

  ‘Oh no, I’m fine, really,’ Maggie protested, endeavouring to keep her voice light. In actual fact she was tired and longing to go to bed even though it was only nine o’clock, but not for the world would she admit it.

  ‘I was just about to make some supper,’ Lotte said. ‘Charlie cooked a chicken this afternoon, I thought we could have some sandwiches before you leave.’ This offer was immediately accepted by the men, who then returned to the serious business of playing cards, leaving the women to make the refreshments. In the scullery that also served as a kitchen, Maggie began buttering the bread while Lotte carved the small chicken.

  ‘Are you sure you’re well enough to be entertaining?’ Lotte asked, her keen glance taking in the fine lines of tiredness etched around Maggie’s eyes. ‘I can always tell them you’ve changed your mind and wish to retire. I know they’ll understand.’

  ‘Thank you, Lotte, but I’m fine, really. And besides I wanted the chance to be alone with you, to thank you properly for all you did for me while I was ill. To tell the truth, I feel a bit embarrassed… I mean, when I think of all you had to do for me, a complete stranger, especially a lady like yourself. It doesn’t seem right somehow, but I’m grateful, you’ll never know just how grateful I am. Saying thank you doesn’t seem enough somehow, but I’ll say it anyway.’ Moving her head slightly she stared into the older woman’s face and said awkwardly, ‘Thank you, Lotte, thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

  Lotte was forced to look away from the lovely face. She knew only too well how Hugh felt about the girl, and she knew also that Maggie had done nothing to encourage him. It was obvious she was smitten with Harry, any fool could see that. It was equally obvious that Harry had a great affection for her, but would he do anything about it? The question of class didn’t enter into it, Harry didn’t give a hoot about a person’s origins, it was the thought of marriage he shied away from.

  Careful to keep her feelings hidden, Lotte answered lightly, ‘Good gracious, Maggie, there’s no need to thank me. You needed help and I was able to provide it, anyone would have done the same. As for me being a lady…’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I’m a working woman, the same as you, it is only our professions that differ.’

  Picking up the plate laden with sandwiches she said briskly, ‘Now then, let us have our supper; then we can leave you in peace for the rest of the evening.’

  When the last of the sandwiches had been eaten Lotte rose to her feet.

  ‘We’ll leave you to rest now, my dear. We should have left it a few days before visiting, but we were both so eager to see for ourselves how you were. I’m afraid our common sense deserted us.’

  ‘Oh no, really, I’m glad you came’ Maggie rose to her feet, her hand outstretched. ‘I know I’ve already said it, but thank you once again for all your kindness.’

  ‘Hush dear, it is thanks enough to see you looking so well,’ Lotte interrupted gently. Turning to the men who were in the throes of a new game, she said firmly, ‘You will have to leave your ca
rd game until another time. It’s been a long day for Maggie; she should be in bed resting.’

  ‘Oh, I was winning as well,’ Charlie protested.

  ‘Never mind, lad, there’ll be other occasions – at least I hope there will be,’ Harry said, his eyes directed at Maggie.

  Smiling widely she replied, ‘There’ll always be a welcome for you here; for all of you.’ With much bustling and hand-shaking the guests left.

  Harry was the last to leave, and as Maggie held the door open for him she asked hesitantly, ‘That shop you were talking about earlier, you know, the one you planned to sell hot meals from. Would this shop be situated near the building site? And did you have a particular person in mind for running the place?’

  Afraid to commit himself, Harry merely nodded his head, his chest swelling with hope at the look of suppressed eagerness on Maggie’s face.

  ‘I thought so,’ she smiled back at him. ‘When I feel more like my old self, maybe we can discuss the proposition further.’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready, my dear, whenever you’re ready.’ Taking her hand he kissed it lightly before bounding down the stairs.

  ‘That was nice, wasn’t it, Maggie?’ Charlie was standing behind her. ‘It’s great having company and a good laugh… Oh, I’m sorry, Maggie, I didn’t mean…’

  ‘Don’t worry, love, I know what you mean and I couldn’t agree more. Let’s hope it’s the first of many such evenings.’

  Bending over the arm of the chair she picked up the two books Lotte had brought for her to read. One was a copy of Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe, the other was Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. Looking at the gold-embossed title she felt her stomach shift uncomfortably. Had Lotte deliberately chosen this particular book by way of a veiled accusation? Immediately the thought entered her mind she felt ashamed. Lotte wasn’t the sort of woman to stoop to underhanded acts. Clutching the books under her arm she looked to the scullery where Charlie was happily washing the crockery.

  Trust him to get the wrong idea about Hugh. For apart from enquiring about her health and making a brief examination – with Lotte present of course – he had shown no interest in her except that which one would show towards a friend. The knowledge that her brother had misinterpreted Hugh’s intentions had come as a huge relief. Now all she had to worry about was recovering her strength and deciding what to do with her future. Sinking back down into the armchair she closed her eyes gratefully. In the days leading up to Lizzie’s funeral she had tried to keep her mind occupied by thinking of different ways she could make a living for herself. She had toyed with the idea of applying for a job at one of the new telephone exchanges that were springing up all over the country, or maybe trying for a job in an office. She had never used a typewriter – indeed she had never seen one – but she was a quick learner, and the thought of working indoors and being able to wear smart clothes had seemed at the time to be just the sort of job she needed. She was tired of walking the streets and standing around in all weathers down the market.

  Up until the late 1870s the only employment available to young women like herself had been either domestic service or factory work. Things were changing at last, and for the better too. Now she had another choice, and not only a choice but the chance to become a woman of business, if she accepted Harry’s offer, she didn’t intend to remain an employee all her life; oh no. She would work hard, and while she worked she would save until she had enough to buy the shop from Harry. A gentle smile played around her lips. Lord, she was getting beyond herself, wasn’t she? The proposed shop was still a pipe-dream; even if Harry went ahead with his plans she might not like the work – and here she was already planning to buy him out. Still, she would see how things went. Before she made any plans she would have to talk them over with Charlie. She knew he would rather work in the markets, and she had finally stopped trying to persuade him differently. But if he would agree to help her get on her feet, then maybe one day soon she would be able to give him enough money to start up a stall of his own. He was quite capable of doing so now, but he was still young and hopefully would do as she asked for now.

  The chair was so comfortable, she could feel her eyes growing heavier behind her closed lids and reluctantly heaved herself from its depth. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed something lying on the floor partly obscured by the chair. Bending over she picked it up and saw at once it was a man’s glove.

  ‘What’s that, Maggie?’ Charlie had come into the room, his eyes curious.

  Clicking her tongue in mild annoyance she answered, ‘What’s it look like? Harry or Hugh must have dropped it when they came in. Although why they should want to wear gloves on such a warm evening is a mystery to me.’

  ‘All the toffs wear gloves, it’s part of the way they dress.’ Charlie grandly imparted the pieces of information. ‘Do yer want me ter run after them?’

  ‘No, leave it. I don’t suppose it’s the only pair they have. Anyway…’ A sudden sharp knock on the door brought both their heads round. Lifting her eyebrows Maggie said laughingly, ‘Maybe it is the only pair they have.’ Opening the door she saw Hugh standing in the hallway, a look of agitation on his flushed face.

  Holding out the glove she said merrily, ‘Is this what you’ve come ba…’ She got no further.

  Before she could finish the sentence she found herself in a steel-like embrace, then Hugh was kissing her violently. She could feel his trembling body pressed against hers but before she could push him from her, he had vanished, his long legs taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to get away.

  ‘I told yer, didn’t I?’ Charlie breathed worriedly, his eyes as round as saucers. ‘I told yer, but yer wouldn’t believe me. What yer gonna do, Maggie? It’ll cause trouble, you mark my words, and if…’

  ‘Shut up, Charlie,’ she hissed between clenched teeth. ‘Just shut up and leave me alone.’

  Pushing past the startled boy whose eyes had begun to fill with tears she stormed into her bedroom slamming the door viciously behind her. Throwing herself face down on the bed she began to beat at the coverlet with clenched fists.

  ‘Damn you, Hugh Stewart, damn you to hell,’ she cried, her voice filled with rage and frustration. This put paid to her dreams of running Harry’s shop for him, and the dream of one day buying it. Oh hell, hell, hell.

  Hours passed, and still she lay not moving on the top of the bed. Charlie had long since gone to his own box-room, wisely deciding to leave his sister alone for the time being. Sometime during the night she fell asleep, only to wake with a start as the first rays of sunlight shone into the darkened room. Rubbing her eyes she stared around her, wondering for a moment why she was lying on the bed fully dressed. Then she remembered. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she walked over to the window.

  Her eyes bleak, she stared down at the cobbled pavement. The roads were already busy even at this time of the morning. Two carts rolled by on their way to Smithfield, their cargo of blood-stained carcasses piled high in the backs of the carts, the drivers weaving their way through the light traffic anxious to get to their destination before the daily commuters and horse-buses snarled up the roads. She remained at her post for some time, then throwing her head back she spread her lips into a grim line.

  Why should she let Hugh spoil her dreams? She had done nothing to encourage his attentions, so why should she suffer for them? Sod it! She would take Harry’s offer, and by doing so would be assured of seeing him daily. He was fond of her, more than fond. Perhaps one day he might even ask her to… Impatiently she shook her head. ‘One day at a time, remember,’ she chided herself. She would just have to make sure she was never alone with Hugh again. And if he persisted she would tell him in no uncertain terms that he was barking up the wrong tree.

  Her face determined, Maggie flung open her door, calling out loudly, ‘Charlie! Charlie, wake up, I have something I want to talk to you about,’

  * * *

  On a day in October when the autumn leaves of brown
and gold and yellow began to tumble from the trees, Maggie and Charlie closed their front door behind them, ready to begin their new venture. It was still dark when they set off for Aldgate High Street, not yet six o’clock. The horse-buses were just starting to run, but they were too excited to wait for one to take them to their destination.

  Stepping out briskly, their boots crunching the crisp scattered leaves beneath their feet, they skirted the main thoroughfare to arrive at the top of the high street some 20 minutes later. The street lamps were still burning, enabling them to see clearly the row of open-fronted shops that lined the road. Only one of the shops showed any sign of life at this early hour, this being the bakers owned by Mr Alfred Sutton and his wife Mabel.

  Already the appetising smell of freshly baked bread was wafting from the open doorway, causing Charlie to moan hungrily, ‘Cor, Maggie, can yer smell that? It’s makin’ me mouth water. Can we get some bread an’ cakes fer breakfast?’

  About to say no, Maggie hesitated. It wouldn’t do any harm to strengthen the acquaintance with her new neighbours, besides which her stomach was rumbling with hunger; she had been too nervous to eat any breakfast before leaving home.

  ‘All right, but we’ll have to be quick, we’ve got a lot of work to do before we open.’

  They were greeted cheerfully by Mabel Sutton, her lower arms covered with flour, her round red face beaming a welcome at her early visitors. ‘’Ello there ducks, you’re up nice an’ early. We ’eard you was opening today, nothing much goes unnoticed round these parts. I’ve been meaning ter ’ave a word wiv yer, but yer was always in such a ’urry. Mind you, the place looks lovely, wouldn’t recognise it from what it used ter look like. Yer name’s Maggie, ain’t it? You’re a lucky girl ter ’ave a gentleman like Mr Stewart for a friend, he’ll see yer all right.’ Seeing the look that crossed the young girl’s face Mabel Sutton threw back her head and laughed loudly.

  ‘Oh don’t yer go worrying, I don’t mean nuffink by what I said, well, nuffink like that anyway. ‘’E’s a good bloke is ’Arry, well-liked round ’ere. Still, a pretty girl like you and ’im not spoken for…’ She let the words hang in the air, giving Maggie a broad wink. Maggie felt her face flush with embarrassment, yet the woman’s face was so open and friendly she found it impossible to take offence. Swallowing hard she smiled back at the woman, anxious to change the subject.