Mr Cooper eyed them over his spectacles once more before saying, ‘Is that so? Well now, girls…’ he emphasised the word, before continuing, ‘I don’t rightly know what to say.’
Orpha stepped closer to the man as all ears in the shop turned to listen. ‘You can say yes,’ Orpha said commandingly.
Raising his eyebrows, Mr Cooper stood with his hands on his hips before saying, ‘As I’m sure you know, other than my customers in the shop…’ he paused as he spread an arm towards the gaping women who stood hanging on his every word, ‘I only usually deal with businessmen.’
Orpha nodded knowingly. She had expected this and Mr Cooper had not disappointed her with his words. He had all but rebuffed them because they were women. Orpha felt Peg stiffen beside her; the anger building in the other girl was palpable.
‘I see.’ Orpha nodded again. ‘That’s a shame, Mr Cooper, because you see, we hope to be opening our own chocolate shop before long and…’ she paused for effect, ‘who knows, we could be making confectionery for Queen Victoria one day!’
The women in the shop gasped as they only registered half the sentence. ‘Making confectionary… Queen Victoria!’
Orpha went on before the shop owner could speak, ‘I’m sure Her Majesty would be interested to know where we purchased our ingredients and… who had refused our custom.’
Mutters sounded quietly in the shop as Orpha looked directly into the eye of the man standing before her. He didn’t for one moment think this girl would ever be supplying the Queen with her chocolate, but he had to admire her gumption. Rubbing his whiskers, he squinted again, asking, ‘Of course it would depend on how much of each of the products you would be ordering and how often…’
Orpha knew she had him. Now she pushed her luck as she said, ‘I would also expect delivery of said items.’
Mr Cooper’s eyebrows launched themselves towards his scalp as he said, ‘Well now, I’m not so sure about…’
‘Fine!’ Orpha snapped. ‘Then we will take our business elsewhere. Good day, Mr Cooper.’ As she turned to leave, Orpha gave Peg a quick wink.
‘Wait!’ the shopkeeper called. ‘Perhaps we can work something out between us.’
Orpha turned back to face him, then glancing at the gawking customers, said, ‘In private, Mr Cooper, if you don’t mind.’
As the two girls followed Mr Cooper into his back parlour, Orpha heard the disgruntled murmurs of the customers who had been robbed of any more of the conversation.
Their requests – the bulk order plus delivery – were met and their first order would be arriving in a few days’ time. Orpha said that, as in all business, she expected to be invoiced and would pay at the end of the month.
As the girls walked towards the dairy, Peg gasped, ‘Bloody hell, Orpha! You don’t half tell a good lie!’
Turning to her friend, Orpha said, ‘Peg, I told no lie. I do intend to open a chocolate shop and maybe Queen Victoria will order our confectionery.’
At both the dairy and the flour mill the same scenario played out and on their way back to the cottage, Orpha said, ‘Peg, we will have to make room in the cottage… we are now in the chocolate-making business!’
*
Orpha and Peg began to clear the cottage of any unused furniture and clutter, piling it outside at the back of the building on a patch of waste ground. It was vital they made as much space as possible to store ingredients as well as the ready-made chocolate while it cooled. Junk was moved out of the scullery and kitchen when Orpha said suddenly, ‘Peg, we don’t have nearly enough trays for the chocolate to cool in!’
‘Right!’ Peg said. ‘Why don’t you go to the market and get some more while I shift the stuff out of the spare bedroom to give us more space.’
Counting out some money, Orpha ran out of the door in order to catch the market before the stallholders closed down for the day.
Peg began the task of emptying her jars and bottles from the bedroom and as she stepped out of the back door a while later, she was faced with a handsome young man. His blonde hair fell over his twinkling blue eyes.
‘Oh…’ he said, ‘Orpha?’
Shaking her head, Peg said, ‘No, she’s gone out. I’m Peg.’
‘Ezzie Lucas,’ the man said, extending his hand. ‘Sorry I thought…’ His voice trailed off, leaving his mouth open.
‘Ar, everybody thinks the same. Blimey you gave me a start when I saw you standing there.’
Ezzie apologised and said he was looking for Orpha Buchanan as he was led into the kitchen and given tea.
A couple of hours later, Orpha ambled into the kitchen loaded down with tin trays of all shapes and sizes, wooden spoons and tin mixing bowls. Seeing the man chatting happily away to Peg, Orpha gasped, ‘Ezzie!’
‘Hello again, Orpha,’ he smiled.
‘How did…?’
‘Lottie Spence at the market told me where to find you,’ he said, ‘after I explained about our previous meeting.’
Sitting at the table, Orpha asked after his mother, Edna, and they caught up on what had been happening since they last met. As they talked, Orpha saw the looks that passed between Ezzie and Peg and felt the sting to her heart. Jealousy turned her eyes a brighter shade of green, but the others didn’t notice, they only had eyes for each other.
Orpha sat quietly listening to them chat and laugh together and her thoughts spiralled. Although she was still very young, she had thought Ezzie was as taken with her as she was with him. She couldn’t deny she had thought of him often despite leading such a busy life. Peg had proved that to be wrong. She and Peg had set out on a venture to see their chocolate-making become a business. Now Ezzie had come along and could spoil it! What if Ezzie and Peg got married? Surely they would want to live in the cottage together; then where would that leave her? Orpha knew she would have to move out if that happened. Where would she go? What would she do? All her money would be gone and she’d once again be penniless. Well, if Peg and Ezzie became a couple, she would go into business by herself!
Snapping her mind back, Orpha berated herself for her foolish thinking, she’d blown a simple visit out of all proportion. After all, Ezzie and Peg had only just met!
‘What a lovely chap,’ Peg said after Ezzie had left to return to his mother aboard their boat, ‘The Sunshine’.
Orpha said nothing as she took the last of the jars from the bedroom down into the kitchen. As she did so, she wondered when they would see the ‘lovely chap’ again. Orpha knew it wouldn’t be too long. The happiness she’d had when she’d first seen Ezzie in their kitchen now turned to sadness.
*
Later in the week, Ezzie’s visit pushed to the back of their minds, the girls saw their supplies neatly packed in the spare bedroom and the scullery empty in readiness to house the trays of chocolate to cool and set, the girls began their preparations.
‘Oh Peg! I need to go to the cardboard factory, we have to have some boxes made for our confectionery!’
‘Christ Orpha! We can’t afford to spend any more money. What if we can’t sell them, we’ll be up to our eyeballs in debt!’
‘Don’t worry, Peg, we’ll sell them, be sure of it. It’s my intention to take them to every shop in the town and get them to sell the chocolates on our behalf. I’m also going into Birmingham to do the same. Firstly though I have to get some labels printed for the boxes.’
‘Labels? What labels?’ Peg asked, her mind’s eye seeing their hard-earned money disappearing like smoke in the wind. She knew Orpha only had their best interest at heart and she was the person to make this business succeed, but she also knew she had to rein her in somewhat. Peg was the one to be wary of the risks and after all it would be her cottage on the line if things backfired.
‘Business labels,’ Orpha said as she spooned smooth chocolate into a large oblong tin tray. ‘We need labels to say what we’re selling, who we are and where we can be found.’
‘Oh right, yes of course.’ Peg muttered. ‘So who are we?’
‘I like that!’ Peg said, suddenly enthusiastic again.
Orpha spoke as if to herself, ‘I wonder if the printer could put a picture of the cottage on the boxes? If I spoke to the photographer in the town, maybe he could sort that out with the printer and cardboard manufacturer.’
Peg drew in a breath and shook her head as she looked around her small kitchen. Things were moving fast, but were they moving too fast?
Chapter 17
Mahula, after much thought, decided to go in search of Abel at the club. She hadn’t seen him since she gave him his ultimatum several months ago, and this was the only place she knew of that she might find him. She didn’t know where he’d gone or where he was spending his days, or more importantly his nights, but the club was a good bet to find him. Zach had told her exactly where it was. The weather was bracing as she set out, but the walk would do her good after being cooped up for most of the time, and it would give her time to think.
As she strode out onto the heath, she knew she would not be allowed into the Gentlemen’s Club when she arrived, but she could request Abel be notified she was waiting outside to speak to him.
She had worried about how they had parted on bad terms and she wanted to apologise. She also needed to know precisely what he was keeping from her. It was time for some plain speaking. Not knowing when he would be visiting her at the house again, she had made the choice to go to him.
Mahula quickened her pace as the wind took up and she wrapped her shawl over her head. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she trudged on, wishing she’d taken a cab.
*
Hortense climbed into the trap, dismissing the stable boy with a wave of her hand and a look that could sour milk.
Jago walked back to the stable, wondering why he bothered to stay working for Mrs Buchanan, but then he considered his position. Most stable lads were housed in or near the stables themselves; he, however, was fortunate enough to have his own room in the big house. Jago Morton could endure his mistress’s harsh tongue and dismissive ways in exchange for a warm bed every night. He could put up with her surly comments whilst he ate in a cosy kitchen with the rest of the staff. As he began to muck out, Jago smiled; once finished he could go indoors for breakfast. Maybe he didn’t have it so bad after all.
A bitter wind blew as Hortense steered the trap down St. James’ Street and out along the Holyhead Road. She needed to think, she needed to find a way of relieving Abel of more emeralds without him finding out or at least implicating herself in the theft. She just had to hope he hadn’t moved them to another hiding place. As the trap reached the heath that separated the smoke-blackened town of Wednesbury from the not much cleaner city of Birmingham, Hortense flicked the reins, setting the horse to a faster gait. Pushing her head down into the muffler around her neck, Hortense urged the horse on, she wanted to be out of the icy wind that raged all around her. Hortense squinted as she flicked the reins again; the cold wind making her eyes water.
Unable to move any faster, the poor horse endured the sting of the whip. Hortense shoved her head further down on her neck and as she did so she did not see the woman walking towards her.
The woman also had her head down against the biting wind which howled its warning across the empty open heathland. She didn’t hear the trap trundling towards her as the wind blew full force around her shawl-wrapped ears. She only heard the screaming wind; it was the last thing she would ever hear.
The horse’s hooves slipped on one of the patches of ice still remaining on the heath and its back legs skidded sideways. Hortense yanked on the reins in an effort to halt the beast, but the trap’s wheels were now on the ice patch. The wheels could find no purchase on the frozen earth and the trap slid around in an arc. The trap hit the walking woman full on and she sailed through the air before landing with a sickening thud some way from the trap.
Hortense managed to halt the horse and sat on the driving seat breathing heavily. She was scared out of her wits as she saw the woman who lay unmoving on the heath a short distance from her. Looking around her, Hortense could see no one; the heath was empty. Climbing down from the trap, she walked against the wind to where the woman lay. Looking down, Hortense gasped. Mahula Buchanan lay dead at her feet. What on earth was she doing on the heath in the first place?
Rushing back to the trap, Hortense turned the horse and urged it back the way she had come. She had to get home before anyone saw what she’d done. It had been an accident, but who would believe that? It would come out, under investigation, that Abel and the woman were known to each other and that Hortense had visited the woman in Birmingham. Worse than that, she would be made to look a fool and probably carted off to jail for murder. No, she had to get away from the scene as fast as she could.
Jago came running from the stables as he heard the trap crunching on the gravel of the driveway. He thought it strange the missis had not been gone long. He thought it stranger still when Hortense nodded to him as she climbed down from the driving seat. She was as white as a ghost as she hurried into the house.
Pulling the bell cord in the parlour, Hortense dropped into the chair by the fire. She was shaking but not from the cold.
Alice brought the tea tray and left the parlour quietly. Hortense tried to steady her nerves as she poured the tea. Adding extra sugar, she sipped the hot liquid. She had to calm herself, she had to think rationally. Her horse and trap had knocked the woman off her feet and now she was dead. Hortense had left her on the heath. She had looked around, but the heath had been empty. Could anyone have seen what had happened? If so, could they recognise her or the trap? Hortense was convinced no one had seen her and slowly she brought her nerves under control. An evil smile formed on her lips as she realised she was, at least, free of Mahula Buchanan.
*
Jago unhitched the horse from the trap, noting the horse’s wild eyes as he did so. What had this horse so frightened? Slowly the horse settled as Jago brushed him down, talking softly as he did so. Eventually the horse was calm and Jago moved to clean the trap. The missis would have his hide if her trap was still dirty the next time she needed it.
With a bucket of water, the lad began to wash down the trap and as he worked his way round, he saw blood splashed all over the side and the wheel. Catching his breath, Jago knelt down to take a closer look. Yes, it was blood and it was fresh. What the hell had happened? As he stood again, the boy considered his options. Obviously, from the blood on the trap, the missis had had a collision with something… or someone. Had the person or animal been killed or were they just hurt? Had the missis informed the police? What should he do? Should he just clean the trap and forget what he’d seen or should he inform the police? Thinking now of his fortunate position in the household, Jago dipped his rag in the water bucket and washed away the blood.
Chapter 18
Zachariah heard the commotion and saw two men carrying his mother in through the door. Laying the woman down gently on the couch, one said, ‘Sorry, lad, we found her on the heath as we was coming home from the pit; she was dead before we got to her. I’ll send the doctor to give a death certificate. She was a nice lady, your mother, we’re real sorry, Mr Buchanan.’
Zachariah merely nodded, shock written all over him. The men left after giving their condolences once more and Zachariah stood looking down at his mother lying lifeless on the couch. Sitting down in the chair beside her, he took her cold hand in his and quietly asked, ‘What were you doing out on the heath, Mother?’ Staring at the face of the woman he loved beyond all measure, Zachariah Buchanan’s tears streamed silently down his face.
The doctor came and went, having recorded death by misadventure so she could be buried, saying he would inform the undertaker of Zachariah’s sad loss. Thanking him for his kindness, the boy again sat by his dead mother unable to take his eyes from her face. Although the doctor had said she had been knocked over, probably by a cart, Mahula looked like she was sle
eping. Zach’ could see no signs of injury or a wound.
Seth, the stable boy, was sent to fetch a constable. It was the constable’s opinion it would be unlikely that, as the woman was out on the heath alone, the person responsible for this would ever be found. The constable left the boy to his grief.
‘Mother,’ Zachariah whispered when he was alone with her once more, ‘what shall I do without you? Please don’t leave me like this, I need you!’ Again his silent tears fell as he kept vigil over his mother’s dead body.
The undertakers arrived next and Seth let them in.
Zachariah saw the two men dressed in black approach his mother and lift her very gently, to take her to the wooden box. Jumping up, he yelled, ‘No! Don’t put her in there… please…!’
The man in charge held the boy back, patting his shoulder. ‘Come away, lad, let the men do their work. She’ll be all right with us.’
Zachariah watched as the lid was placed on the box and it was carried out to the cart that waited at the front of the house. He watched the horse pull the cart down the drive and out onto the street taking his mother away for good.
Closing the door, Zachariah sat in his chair in the parlour and looked at the now empty couch where his mother had lain. Grief swept over him and it held him fast as he howled his unhappiness into the quiet of the room. Great shudders racked his body as he dragged in breath after breath only to let them go with howl after howl like a wolf in the moonlight.
Zachariah sat in the chair all night. He didn’t move even to light the oil lamp. He neither ate nor drank, so deep was his despair. Without a wink of sleep, Zachariah was unaware of the morning light that crept quietly into the room as if afraid it would disturb him.
‘Mr Buchanan sir,’ a small voice filtered through his haze of grief. ‘Mr Buchanan sir,’ it came again.
Looking up, Zachariah saw the stable boy standing in the doorway.
Seth Walker looked at the young man who sat in the chair with hunched shoulders. ‘Sir, I’m sorry for your loss,’ Seth said.
The Lost Sisters: A gritty saga about friendships, family and finding a place to call home Page 12
