by Diane Allen
She shook her head as she undid the top of a wooden crate and started taking out the straw packing to reveal the contents. She gasped. Within the straw lay the most beautiful china she had ever seen: teapots and cups with matching saucers, cake stands and dinner plates. They would look beautiful displayed on one of the counters, to the first customers who arrived. She marvelled at the delicately painted designs, and carefully unwrapped each piece, placing it in a key position near the serving counter. Jim had told her where to put the main bulk of the goods, but he’d not mentioned the china. But she could see that it would sell and would complement the cakes that could be placed upon it.
She stood back and looked at her handiwork. Most of the shelves were filled now: tea, sugar, tinned fruit, dried fruit, syrup and treacle, flour and salt. She’d been busy. She’d also made a display of a few of the fresh lemons, with a pot or two of her lemon cheese placed strategically among them, just to see if it would sell. Anything else would have to wait for William Mattinson’s instructions. But yes, it was beginning to look like a real shop. Both brothers could be proud of themselves. She brushed away any straw that was left on the floor and tidied the boxes and packaging away, before locking the door. Tomorrow William and his family would return and it was then, she knew, that the proper work would begin.
‘Ah, you never stand up to him, you stupid man. He comes to the funeral with a black eye and you just laugh. He disrespects my family, and yet he’d be nothing without us! I tell you, William, I’ve had enough.’
Daisy stood waiting at the door of number four for her new family to enter. She couldn’t help but overhear Angelina talking in her Italian accent, and it was quite obvious who she was talking about. ‘My father’s right. You should buy him out. Father would give you the money. I don’t know what your problem is.’ She brushed past Daisy with the baby Charles in her arms, oblivious to Daisy’s sharp curtsy, and carried on arguing as she mounted the stairs, while her husband William carried the bags from the horse and cab.
‘Daisy, have you been all right? I’m sorry I left you in such disarray, but the circumstances didn’t give me any choice.’ William removed his hat and placed it on the hall stand as he gave his apologies to her.
‘You and your family have my condolences, sir. I feel your loss. I didn’t realize on my arrival that the child was so ill.’
‘Nothing is worse than losing a child. But now, Daisy, you must know that we don’t stand on ceremony. I’m William, and Jim has been telling me all about you, especially your lemon cheese – that will be a real winner for the shop. Let me get myself and my family settled back in the home, and then we can sit down and talk. I’m afraid Angelina has not returned home in the best of moods. Her grief is overwhelming her, and my brother and her do not see eye-to-eye.’
‘William! William, come and put your son to bed, and stop wasting your time talking to that girl. Why we need her I don’t know!’ shouted Angelina from the top of the stairs.
‘Sorry. She’ll calm down in another day or two. It’s her Mediterranean temperament. I’m afraid she doesn’t hold her tongue.’ He walked to the bottom of the stairs and turned to say something.
‘William!’ The voice shouted again from above.
‘I’ll make some tea and cake and put it in the parlour.’ Daisy smiled, recognizing a man under pressure.
William whispered ‘Thank you’ and went up the stairs to his wife and child.
Daisy went down to the kitchen and put the kettle on the range to boil, while she laid a tea tray with cups and saucers, then added slices of a newly baked lemon Victoria sandwich cake. She had spread her lemon cheese in the middle, and hoped that it would impress both William and his wife. She looked round the kitchen. Would this be her domain, or would Angelina expect to cook as well? If she did, Daisy could see that there would be sparks flying between them. Angelina had not exactly made her feel welcome. She poured the boiling water into the teapot and carried the tray into the parlour, setting it down on the newly polished table. Then she pulled the curtains on the encroaching night and lit the candles.
‘William tells me you are a good cook.’ Quietly Angelina viewed her new member of staff as Daisy brought light to the room. Angelina’s black skirts rustled as she sat down at the table and her dark eyes watched Daisy’s every move.
‘I’d like to think I am, ma’am.’ Daisy stood still as Angelina poured herself and an absent William a cup of tea.
‘Did you make this cake? I have never seen that filling in it before. What is it?’
‘It’s called “lemon cheese”, ma’am. It’s made with fresh lemons and butter. Can I just say how sorry I was to hear of your loss?’ Daisy watched as Angelina carefully crumbled off a piece of the cake and its filling and placed it delicately into her mouth.
‘My child was ill. The good Lord decided it was his time, and we don’t ask the reasoning of the Lord. I must grieve, but life must also go on, for the sake of others.’ She took another mouthful. ‘This is good; you’ll be making it for the shop?’
‘If everyone agrees.’ Daisy smiled.
‘They’ll agree. I will see to that. I’m Angelina, but you call me Angi. We’ve got to work together, for the kitchen is only small, so none of this “ma’am” business. I’ll look after the home; you look after the business. That way we won’t fall out.’ She looked straight at Daisy.
Daisy showed her relief and smiled.
‘See, I’m not that bad – just like to put my menfolk in their place. I play on my hot temper, to get my way.’ Angelina smiled. ‘You’ve got to or, frankly, nothing would get done.’
Daisy smiled again, wondering just what sort of household she had entered.
‘You and I will get on fine. Just don’t let that Jim into my kitchen – he’s no good, a bastardo!’ Angelina’s eyes flashed. ‘Why my husband had to include him in the business, and give him the room above the shop, I don’t know. He could rent it out and put a manager in there, then he would have more time for me and his family.’ She sighed.
‘Because he’s my brother, my dear, and I promised my parents that I’d look after him. And I’m sure Daisy doesn’t want to hear – or, indeed, care – about our personal affairs.’ William entered the room after obviously hearing part of the conversation, sitting down opposite his wife.
‘Tuh! I give up . . . I sometimes think Jim means more to you than anything or anyone else in your life. But you know how I feel.’ Angelina’s eyes flashed as she showed her displeasure.
‘Enough! Tomorrow I will go to the shop with Daisy and see what she suggests that we could produce here in our kitchen. If this cake is anything to go by, then my old friend Bert has done us a huge favour by sending you our way.’ William smiled at Daisy. ‘The house looks clean and tidy. Thank you for keeping on top of everything while we were away.’
‘The house is my doing, along with my children. I’m mistress of this house.’ Angelina rose from her chair and stamped her authority by banging on the table.
‘My dear, I know you are. I’m just thanking Daisy for the last few days. Believe me, Daisy is going to be busy. For a start, I need a few batches of this lemon cheese. It will definitely sell, along with the cake, and I’m sure there will be other preserves and pickles, biscuits and fancies that could adorn our shelves. Now do you want our venture to make money or not? Because that is why she is here – not to take over your household.’
‘The cake and spread are good. I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m tired – the journey and our loss have taken it out of me. Forgive this crazy Italian lady.’ Angelina grabbed Daisy’s hand and patted it. ‘We will be a winning firm, with you helping. I’m away to my bed. Baby Charles will need a feed through the night and I need my rest.’
Daisy watched as Angelina walked gracefully up the stairs, leaving her with William, who was still eating her cake.
‘Tell me what ingredients are in your lemon cheese and cake, and then I can cost them and tell you if we can afford to supply our customers.
Write them down for me, along with some more ideas. I don’t want bread – there’s a newfangled factory down the road that’s just started baking bread, so we can’t compete. And I’ve promised our neighbour, the butcher, that we won’t deal in meat. There’s only so much money to go around; it’s no good standing on someone else’s toes. But owt else you can think of: put it down, and I’ll see if we can sell it.’ William looked at her over the top of his teacup. ‘Sit down, lass, I don’t bite. Bert tells me you helped run Gearstones Lodge with one hand tied behind your back, so there must be more about you than meets the eye.’
Daisy blushed as she pulled up the chair to the table. ‘I learned to cook just after I learned to walk. I had to, for our family to survive.’
‘And where are they now, and what were you doing at Gearstones?’ William wanted to know a bit more about his new employee.
‘I don’t know – my father chucked me out when I was nobbut sixteen, and I was fortunate enough for Jenny to give me a roof over my head.’ Daisy tried to shun eye contact, for she didn’t want William to see the hurt she still felt when talking about her family.
‘I think it was Jenny that was the fortunate one, from what I hear. And what happened to your husband? Bert said he died of a heart attack.’
‘That he did, on our wedding night.’ Daisy could have felt sorry for herself at that point. She felt her chin begin to wobble with pent-up grief, but she bit her lip and smiled. ‘And then I decided to make a new life for myself, by coming here.’
‘Well, Daisy Lambert, you did right. Tomorrow, with the aid of my useless brother, we will sort out what food we need and what’s going to be our leading brand. I hear Jim has already laid claim to the lemon cheese by calling it “Mattinson’s Lemon Cheese”. He’s ordered the jam jars and even got the printer to make us labels to put on them. God knows how much of our hard-earned money he’s already spent.’
Daisy grinned. ‘He was saying the same about you and the stockpile of lemons.’
‘He was now, was he? Well, I just have to keep the family happy, and he’s just a playboy. And no doubt you’ll have found that out by now, because he just can’t help himself in front of a young woman.’
Daisy chuckled and put her head down.
‘I bloody well knew it! You can’t leave him for more than five minutes. Angelina was right, he is a liability.’
From the top of the stairs a voice shouted down, ‘I know I’m right. I’m always right, but nobody bloody listens.’
William and Daisy just smiled. They had the feeling they were going to make a good team.
‘So that’s it then. We’ll try the lemon cheese, marmalade, onion chutney, Victoria sandwich cake, fruit scones and, on the insistence of Jim here, Kiss-Me Cake, which says everything about bloody Jim. Now the jams and pickles are no bother – you can make big batches as and when we want them – but the fresh stuff will have to be made daily.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll get up early in the morning, light the fire and bake them before Angelina needs the oven and range. I prefer to be on my own. The other things I can cook on the range, when it’s not needed by her.’ Daisy had thought long and hard about how to work the kitchen space, and getting up early in a morning was no hardship to her. Besides, the less time she had around the baby, Charles, the more comfortable she would feel. So she was thankful that most mornings her baking would be done early, and she could escape to the shop, out of the way of Angelina and her baby.
‘Right, Jim, take Daisy back home with these jam jars and labels. Let’s get the first batches made. Load up the lemons, oranges, onions and whatever else Daisy wants, and then come back here. I need to go over the accounts with you.’ William strode around his shop, checking the shelves and that everything was accounted for.
‘“Jim, do this; Jim do that.” I am your partner, you know. And you needn’t check the accounts. I did them while you were away. Who ordered all that bloody china anyway? How are we going to sell that in a grocer’s shop?’
‘That’s exactly why I have to check the accounts. And Angelina ordered the china; she thought it would attract some different customers.’ William slammed the shop’s receipts onto the counter. ‘If you don’t bloody like it, you know what to do.’
‘I suppose she got it through her bloody family, did she? Has she got relations in the Potteries now?’
Daisy watched the feuding brothers. If this partnership was going to work, they were going to have to stop fighting one another.
‘Oh, just get out! Go and help Daisy peel her onions and lemons, and don’t bother coming back until you can be civil. You owe a lot to Angelina, and her father. Like the roof over your head, and part of the profits we are about to make.’ William brushed his hair back through his fingers; he’d had enough of his surly brother since his return. He wasn’t sure which, but Jim either had money troubles or woman troubles – it was always one or the other when his younger brother was in one of his moods.
‘Don’t worry. I’m off. I’d rather be around a woman’s skirts than stop in this spot.’ Jim lifted a bag of lemons in one hand and a bag of onions in the other and slammed the door, with its tinkling bell, behind him.
‘I’m sorry, Daisy, you’ll have to get used to our hot tempers, if you are to work with us. He’ll be loading the cart up around the back, out of the cold store. If he goes home, try and keep him out of Angelina’s way. I wouldn’t want to come home to a bloodbath.’
‘I’ll try. It’s strange to think you are brothers, for you are like chalk and cheese, if you don’t mind me saying. He means well, you know. He does think a lot of you.’
‘Aye, well, he’s a funny bloody way of showing it.’
Daisy worked her way through the bag of onions, peeling and chopping them at the kitchen table of number four. Her eyes streamed with tears as she put them into the huge jam pan, which was going to sweat them down into chutney, once placed on the fire. She added the vinegar, sugar and spices, then placed the pan on the fire, before sitting down at the table.
‘Jesus, Daisy, I’m going to stink of onions, and that bloody vinegar is making my eyes sting! Women are going to smell me before I get anywhere near them.’ Jim took a long draw on his cigarette.
‘Then you’d best get back to help your brother.’ Daisy couldn’t stop herself – the words came tumbling out, partly because she was beginning to realize that Jim was a leech on the Mattinson business, not contributing much except for his gift of the gab and a bit of artistic flair, when he bothered.
‘Phew! But I’m not doing that. I’ve other things to do tonight, and I’ve a bit of my own business to sort out.’ Jim leaned back and sniggered. ‘Make us a drink of tea, Daisy petal, I’m fair parched. It’s the smell of your bloody onions.’
‘I can’t put the kettle on – there’s no room, with the jam pan taking up the fire. Besides, Angelina will soon be back. She’s taken baby Charles out on a walk in his new perambulator. She’ll not take kindly to you being here in her kitchen.’
‘Bloody Italian witch! She’s altered our Bill. All he thinks about is making money. The trouble is, he puts it all back into the business, instead of having a life with it.’ Jim got up and flicked his cigarette stub into the fire. ‘I’m off. I’ll leave you to your onions – and you’ll never get another fella smelling like that.’ He grinned back at Daisy just before he ran up the stairs to the hallway and out of the front door.
Daisy heard the door slam as she stirred the simmering onions. Jim was right. She wouldn’t get another fella, smelling and looking like she did, but she didn’t care. She was happy as she was, cooking in the kitchen and making food for people to enjoy.
‘You shouldn’t let him talk to you like that. I heard him. I was up in the parlour.’ Angelina stood at the kitchen doorway.
‘I didn’t know you were back, I didn’t hear you come in.’ Daisy blushed.
‘Charles is asleep in his perambulator in the back yard. The fresh air will do him good, so I came to sit and
have some time to myself. So, Jim thinks I’m an Italian witch – that’s what my darling brother-in-law sees me as. I could have come down and said what I thought of him, but there are other ways of dealing with ignoramuses, and he will find out one day exactly what I am.’
‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He says a lot of things without thinking.’ Daisy didn’t like Angelina’s tone of voice. She seemed distant as she looked into the simmering pan of chutney.
‘Your loyalty is to be commended, but he is no good. He will be the death of my family, and the business, if he’s not stopped. What is this you’re making it? It smells foul.’
‘It’s onion chutney. You eat it with cooked meat, and I’m labelling the jars ready to put the chutney in. It doesn’t take long to cook, and I’ve opened the windows down here to let the smell out.’ Daisy picked up one of the labelled jars to show Angelina.
‘Mmm . . . “Mattinson’s Onion Relish”. Does my husband approve?’ Daisy nodded. ‘He knows what you English like to eat. He cannot stand garlic, you know – I cannot understand why!’ She put the jar down and smiled at Daisy.
‘I can’t say I enjoy it, either. I’ve never cooked with it much.’ Daisy hated garlic, but didn’t dare say that there was no room for it in her cooking.
‘I will give you a recipe for a sauce with garlic in, and we’ll see what we can do. Perhaps we could call that “Petronelli’s Tomato Sauce”, in honour of my father. He’s a great man.’
‘We could certainly try.’ Daisy smiled. She’d say anything to keep Angelina amused and in the good mood she was currently in.
‘I’ll speak to William tonight, then let you know. We’ll sort something out.’ Angelina smiled. ‘I’ll go and bring Charles back in. The moist evening air is coming in, and it might do him some harm. Plus it’s nearly time for his feed. Will you be finished in time for me to prepare our supper? William will want something on his return from the shop. He will be a happy man tonight, with the grand opening tomorrow. He has put so much into the venture, and I am so proud of him.’
