For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  Excitedly, she leapt back into the cab and demanded to be taken to Davygate where her accountant had his premises. Once there, she paid the cabbie and almost ran up the steps to Mr Cowthorpe’s office, only to be told that the accountant was engaged.

  ‘He’ll see me,’ she told the secretary firmly and marched straight past him.

  Mr Cowthorpe nearly fell from the chair in which he had been dozing, a handkerchief over his face. ‘My dear Mrs Feeney! What a pleasure to see you.’

  ‘I’ve seen a property in Parliament Street and I want it,’ she told him without prelude and placed a piece of paper on his desk. ‘There. I’ve written down the estate agent’s name. Find out the details, will you? Time of auction, approximate asking price.’

  ‘Just like that, eh?’ he smiled. Dear Mrs Feeney, she was so impulsive at times.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing spoiling here, is there?’ she said wrily. ‘You don’t appear to be too busy to me.’

  ‘You’re a slavedriver, madam, but I shall do my utmost to fulfil your request.’

  ‘Aye, well when you’ve done that I shall ask you to do me another favour. Hah! What am I talking about – favour? God knows you cost me enough, so I may as well have my moneysworth.’

  He laughed, used to her candour. ‘What is it, dear lady?’

  ‘I’d like you to bid for me. I’m too excited to behave rationally and I’ll probably come away with the wrong property or half a ton of cheese or something equally daft.’

  He pulled a face. ‘The likelihood of that happening to the astute Mrs Feeney is so unimaginable that should it be so I promise here and now to eat every last crumb of the said cheese.’

  ‘Don’t make such rash wagers – I’m so excited anything could happen. Anyway, I’d be too much on edge to stand about waiting to see if someone was going to outbid me. Will you do it?’

  He bowed and said he would inform her of the details when he learnt them. ‘And a fine move if I may say so – the property I mean. An ideal site for a business such as yours.’

  Thomasin’s family were a little less enthusiastic. ‘But you’re slap-bang in the marketplace, Mother,’ Sonny pointed out. ‘It’ll be a struggle from the start – besides the competition from the other grocers.’

  ‘An’ it sounds an awful big place,’ added Patrick. ‘Are ye sure you’re ready for it?’

  ‘By, you’re like a couple of damp squibs, the pair of you! Of course I’m ready for it. I’ve never been more ready. There’s a pile of cash in the bank sat doing nowt. It’s all right this little shop making money but once you’ve made it you have to plough it back into something else. Expand.’

  ‘Will ye listen to the woman,’ joked Patrick. ‘Yesterday it was “an emporium”, today ’tis “a little shop”.’

  ‘Stop making fun! I’m serious.’ His wife wagged a finger. ‘Firstly, you’ve got it wrong about the market being a struggle, Sonny. The only struggle will involve who can get to my counter first. Don’t you see? On market days there’ll be all these country people flocking into town to sell their produce and buy, Sonny, buy! They’re not going to take any custom from me, they’re going to add to it. As for your point about competing with the other grocers, well, I’m not even going to try. My aim is not simply to run a grocery, but to have all sons of commodities under the one roof. You’ll have seen I’ve been working towards that for some time.’

  ‘Yes, we had noticed,’ affirmed Patrick, looking at the callouses on his hands.

  ‘Now, you know there’s no need whatsoever for you to be working in those fields,’ she chastened. ‘You could quite easily hire a couple more labourers, leaving you free to do more important work.’

  ‘An’ what sort of important work would I be doing, tell me?’

  ‘Have you considered that with another couple of hundred acres you could grow not just enough to keep us in produce but a lot of other businesses as well?’

  ‘A wholesale business, ye mean?’

  ‘It’s a start. I always intended to have one some day.’ And very likely would have done, she thought, if Dusty had still been with us. ‘We could begin with the greengrocery and see how it progresses before going the whole hog.’

  ‘Gob, woman, ye’ll be meeting yourself coming back if ye aren’t careful,’ said her husband. ‘Who was it always telling me not to go rushing into things when I was in business for meself?’

  ‘That was entirely different,’ she replied. ‘You and John wanted to take on too much too early. I’ve had seven years’ experience, and no one could accuse me of moving too fast. In fact my accountant is always telling me how reticent I am. All this aside, have you ever known anything I’ve turned my hand to to meet with failure?’

  He had to admit that she had taken to this life like someone born to it. ‘’Tis a pity we didn’t know what an expert we had in our midst when I was struggling to keep out of jail.’

  Sonny felt the light-hearted atmosphere suffer a drop of ten degrees. Poor Father, it was such a blow to his pride that a woman had succeeded where he had failed.

  Thomasin fought back the answer she had been about to thrust at him: who was it got you out of jail? Like her son, she understood Patrick’s divided emotions. On the one hand she knew he was glad that her ventures had met with more success than his had; on the other, he thought that it was the husband who was meant to be the breadwinner, so with her success came his failure. ‘If I’d offered my advice then would you have taken it, Patrick?’ she asked quietly.

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘Was I ever one to take advice? Especially when it was sensible advice. I’m sorry, Tommy, the previous skit was uncalled for; I take it back.’ His smile widened as Josie brought in the children for a goodnight kiss before they changed into their nightgowns. ‘Ah, hosanna, Rosanna!’ He swept up his three year old grand-daughter and dandled her on his knee. Facially, she was so like Erin had been as an infant, but her character was oh, so different. There was no shyness here, nor stubbornness. Rosanna, even at this early age, knew that these were not ways to win her beloved grandfather. Instead, she used the wiles inherited from her natural father – charm and cajolery. Grandfather was as malleable as dough in her baby hands.

  Thomasin cuddled the much quieter and less wilful Nicholas. They were both such lovely children. It was a crime their mother did not show them more affection. The little bit that was going was reserved for Nick; poor Rosie received none at all. Still, the other members of the family made up for Peggy’s lack.

  ‘Where’s my wife, Josie?’ asked Sonny, enjoying the warm feeling that the children had produced. He had come to love them both as his own.

  ‘She’s lying down, Mr John,’ said the maid, enjoying too the sight of the children being cosseted.

  ‘Had a hard day at the park, I suppose,’ said Thomasin caustically.

  Sonny let the snide remark go over his head. He had long since given up defending Peggy, though he still loved her as much as ever. ‘Can I hold him for a while, Mother?’ He stretched out his arms. Thomasin set the little boy on his feet and he ran straight to his father, falling at the last minute, his legs becoming tangled with his frock. Sonny caught him laughingly and swung him onto his lap, breathing in his fresh baby smell; then began to bounce the child in time to Patrick’s mellifluous voice as he broke into tune.

  This was not one of the nasal Gaelic laments that the Irishman sometimes entertained them with, but as lively a ditty as the young lady it was composed for.

  I was dan-d-lin’ a pretty Irish colleen on me knee,

  When a prosp’rous-lookin’ stranger comes a strollin’ up to me,

  Says he, ‘Kind sir a favour I would beg ye if I dare,

  Could I poach a tiny snippet from your lady’s bounteous hair?

  ‘’Tis just the very colour that I’ve been lookin’ for,

  An’ *I never saw the like of it in a thousand miles or more, *

  I’ll pay ye very kindly with a pot of fairy gold.

  An’ once taken yo
ur fair colleen will never to grow old. ’

  Well, then I get the notion that he’s of the leprechaun,

  An’ I cling to her so tightly for I know what is to come.

  The moment that his scissors flash across her silken hair

  She’ll be taken for a fairy an’ I’ll see my love no more.

  Says I, ‘Well thank ye kindly an’ I’ve no wish to offend,

  For I know ye need the hair your fairy coats to mend,

  But I tell ye little stranger, this is not the stuff for you

  For ’tis rough an ’ thick an’ sure to break your needles all in two. ’

  Now, ye may think ’tis a slander of my darlin’s wondrous hair,

  But I tell ye I would say it twice if I thought it would save her,

  For there’s no one who is dearer be it woman, child or man,

  If she asked I’d surely die for her, my darlin’ sweet Rosanne.

  The little girl laughed and clapped delightedly as she always did when Patrick showed her the tiniest amount of attention, and complained noisily when Josie took her and Nick off to bed.

  ‘They’re grand weans, Sonny,’ said Patrick, his eyes bright with love. ‘An’ you’re doing an admirable job o’ raising them.’

  ‘I’d heartily agree with your first comment, Dad, but I can’t accept the credit for the latter – that’s more down to Peggy and Josie.’

  Mostly Josie, thought Thomasin bitterly. The other slut couldn’t give a damn what happened to them. It was Josie who collected them from their beds in a morning. Josie who put them back there on an evening, and Josie who saw to all their needs in between. If Thomasin had been their mother she knew she would have been intensely jealous, but not Peggy. All the children meant to her was an excuse to escape work. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mother-in-law I can’t possibly do that! I must give the children their fresh air and exercise.’ Thomasin dreaded to think what took place when they arrived at the park, for Peggy would probably let them run riot and wouldn’t even miss them if they were to fall in the lake.

  She changed the subject; she always grew bad-tempered if she dwelled on Peggy for too long. ‘Well, shall we have a glass to celebrate our coming venture?’

  ‘I’d not say no to a drop o’ the ould poteen,’ said her husband, in better spirits now.

  ‘Those were the days, eh, Dad?’ smiled Sonny.

  ‘Aye, and thank God they’re behind us is all I can say,’ remarked Thomasin, pouring out the sherry. ‘Now, raise your glasses, gentlemen. I give you Mrs Feeney, your succour and salvation, may she ever be as humble.’

  ‘Hey, ye can’t toast yourself,’ Patrick pointed out.

  To which his wife responded: ‘Well, if I don’t, no bugger else is likely to, are they?’

  * * *

  By the following week Thomasin had been furnished with all the relevant details of the property and had also been taken on a tour of the interior. In about five minutes she had decided exactly where everything was to go. There, would be provisions; and there, fresh produce; over there, baked items …

  The place was even roomier than she had anticipated, allowing her another inspirational gesture.

  ‘What if,’ she suggested to Sonny and Patrick who had been dragged along to share in her delight, ‘we put some chairs and tables in that corner and serve refreshments? People’ll think it’s a lovely idea – being able to do all the shopping in one place, have it delivered and get a cup of tea into the bargain.’

  ‘Not all the shopping,’ said Patrick. ‘Ye’ve no meat department, remember? Though knowing yourself I’m sure you’re working on it.’

  ‘What a grand idea! Why don’t we ask Sam …’ She roared with laughter at her husband’s face. ‘I’m only kidding. I don’t think Sam would appreciate us carving up his young ladies.’ A private joke: true to his promise Patrick had, with his wife, bought Sam ten Shorthorn dairy cows to start him off on his ambition, plus another fifty acres to keep them in. Sam had soon grown devoted to each beast. However, neither Patrick nor Thomasin knew if the gesture had produced any results in the way of Sam and Erin’s marriage. Sam was rarely on his own for Patrick to ask him, and Thomasin knew that it was a question Erin would not welcome, so the parents remained ignorant. They did notice, though, that there seemed less tension between the couple.

  ‘But look, you two,’ Thomasin continued. ‘Can’t you just see it^7^ When it’s painted in a decent colour and with a few of Sonny’s pictures on the walls … I mean, they’re selling well enough at the old store but if we arrange them cleverly where the customers are sat drinking their tea and they have a chance to study them, well, they could do even better here.’

  ‘Speaking of the old store,’ said Patrick. ‘What’s going to happen to that?’

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen to it. I’m keeping it on. We’ll move all the main equipment here naturally, as there’s more room for a proper bakery, but Goodramgate will trade as normal. There’s no point in disposing of something that’s making money.’

  ‘But how can ye look after two stores?’ protested her husband.

  Sonny’s heart dropped: she was going to put him in charge of the smaller shop.

  But no. ‘I thought I’d divide my time equally between the two. With all the coffee-roasting paraphernalia and the bakery at this place there won’t be much to supervise at Goodramgate. However …’ here she looked at Sonny and he knew his fear had been half-right, ‘I am going to need a lot of extra help in getting this place in order and supervising the new staff. I’m sorry, Sonny but I’m going to have to ask you to forgo your free afternoons for a while – not forever, just till we get into a routine.’

  He managed to deliver his answer gracefully, though it took great willpower.

  ‘Good lad.’ She patted his hand. ‘It won’t be for long, I promise. Oh! but isn’t it absolutely grand.’ She clapped her hands with glee. ‘If I don’t get it I’ll just die.’

  ‘I see every reason for optimism,’ said her accountant when they met to discuss what her ceiling price should be. ‘With a bid of that stature there are few who could beat you.’

  She wrung her hands as he climbed into his carriage.

  ‘Do please get word to me the minute it’s ours,’ she begged anxiously.

  ‘Trust me, Mrs Feeney. I shall get it for you with a few pence to spare.’

  Thomasin, unable to concentrate on her work, spent that morning either wringing her hands or casting nervous glances at the clock. Josie, on being asked for the tenth time for a tray of tea, became nettled with her employer. ‘Mrs Feeney, ma’am, I don’t want to get above myself but wouldn’t it be more sensible for you to occupy yourself rather than sit here drowning in tea? I can see you’re all of a twitter about something an’ I don’t mean to pry, but …’

  ‘I’m waiting to hear if I’ve been successful in my bid for a new store, Josie,’ Thomasin divulged. ‘And you’re right!’ She leapt up and tugged at her bodice. ‘I can’t sit here for another second not knowing whether I’ve won or lost.’ She glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. ‘It’s almost eleven. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to get there and by that time it should all be over.’ She patted Josie’s well-covered shoulder as she moved quickly past in a swish of crêpe de chine. ‘Sorry I’ve been under your feet this morning, dear. I just couldn’t settle to work.’

  ‘It’s your home, ma’am. If you can’t sit in your own drawing room I don’t know who can.’ She ran after Thomasin, overtook her in the hall and opened the front door. Her mistress rushed through it. ‘Good luck!’

  Thomasin’s reckoning was accurate. When she reached The Black Swan where the auction was being held it was all over. There was a slow trickle of disaffected bidders leaving the inn. One of them spotted her and raised his hat as she alighted from the cab to a mixture of wind and rain.

  ‘Congratulations, Mrs Feeney. I’m sorry to say you beat us all – again.’

  ‘You mean I’ve got it?’ she said elatedly, grab
bing hold of her hat as a gust threatened to tear it from her head. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive. I like to know who my rivals are. I was standing very close to the rostrum and heard the buyer’s name quite clearly – although it was a gentleman who tendered your name. Perhaps your husband?’

  ‘My accountant,’ said Thomasin. ‘I was too keyed-up to do my own bidding. Oh, how perfectly lovely! Thank you.’ She bade him a hasty good-day and escaped from the foul weather, pushing her way through those who had stayed to drown their blighted hopes in a tankard. She sought out Mr Cowthorpe, inclining her head to right and left at the murmurs of congratulation. When she finally found him she snatched at the hand that was about to reach for a tankard. ‘I ought to crown you! Sitting here supping when you should be haring down Monkgate with the good news – Oh, never mind! Thank you.’

  He looked askance. ‘My dear Mrs Feeney, I am much discomfited to tell you that you have been unkindly misled. We were unsuccessful in our bid.’

  She frowned and dropped his hand abruptly. ‘But I’ve had people congratulating me right, left and centre. They can’t all be mistaken. One of them actually told me he’d heard my name put forward.’

  Cowthorpe’s perplexity dissolved. ‘Ah, I can see now how the misunderstanding came about. It grieves me to have to tell you they were wrong, Mrs Feeney – although it was true to say that the successful gentleman’s name is the same as your own. In fact, there he is at the bar right behind you – perhaps you are related?’

  Thomasin turned quickly to inspect the handsome usurper – and felt herself sway.

  ‘Hello, Mam,’ grinned Dickie.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The last time she had felt like this was when, as a child, she used to twirl round and round a dozen times then stop suddenly and watch the room still spinning around her. But now, instead of slowing as it used to do, the room continued to whirl until everything went black.