by Diane Allen
‘Yes, don’t worry. I’ll have this cleared away within the hour.’ Daisy’s head was a-flutter. Two women in one kitchen was never going to work, and it was going to get even worse once the shop opened.
‘Take care, Jimbo my love.’ Susie pulled her skirts down and tied her corset, as Jim buttoned up his breeches.
‘Ah, don’t you worry about me, lass, I can look after myself. But it’s a bugger when I’ve got to get my oats up some back alleyway, like a bloody dog. Next time you come to me.’ He shoved a sovereign in between Susie’s breasts, his fingers lingering there as he did so.
‘There’ll not be a next time, if you don’t watch out. Old Trotter’s still on the lookout for you, you mark my words.’ Susie slapped his hand and tossed back her hair.
‘Ah, stupid old git! This is Jim Mattinson, and tomorrow I open my own shop with my brother. I tell you, lass, there will be no catching us. We’ll have a chain of them all across Leeds. Then will you marry me and become respectable?’
‘Marry you and become respectable? Jim Mattinson, you are not the marrying kind! And well you know it. Now bugger off, before you are found down here on Water Street, and let a poor lass make a living.’
Susie wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, ran her fingers down Jim’s face and kissed him gently, before wandering out of the shadows onto the wharf edge. She looked quickly back at Jim as he disappeared into the night. She loved that man, but she was right: he wasn’t the marrying kind. In fact his sort were ten-a-penny.
10
Daisy’s face was flushed. She’d been up since five o’clock, baking cakes, potting lemon cheese and putting the finishing touches to all the things that were needed. She looked round the kitchen. She’d tidied up as she went along, and so everything should be in place for Angelina when she came to make breakfast. Now all she had to do was wait for Jim to come with the cart to pick her up.
She heard the faint cries of baby Charles demanding his morning feed. Soon William would be appearing, no doubt excited about the first day of opening his shop. He’d paid a young lad a farthing or two to deliver flyers around the surrounding streets, so a good turnout was expected. Daisy slumped down at the kitchen table. She was tired already, and she’d forgotten about all the early mornings that a baker had to do. When she had been mixing the scone mix in the dim lamplight of the early morning, her thoughts had wandered to home. Were her parents still alive? Was Kitty still happily married, or had Clifford eventually shown his true colours?
She had remembered the cool autumn mornings, with the dawn rising over Grisedale; the autumn mists following the bubbling stream down the dale; and the spiders’ webs embroidered with dewdrops as they shimmered in the honeysuckle around the kitchen door. What a young foolish thing she had been, headstrong and jealous of her older sister. Her father had been right: she had led Clifford Middleton on; but not enough to have done what he did. He was a bastardo, as Angelino said.
A loud, heavy knock on the front door made her rouse herself from her thoughts of youth. She threw off her apron and ran up the steps from the kitchen to the hallway. The knocker banged again.
‘I’m coming, Jim. Hold your horses – these legs will only go so fast.’ Daisy pulled back the bolts on the door and opened it wide, ready for Jim to enter and collect the goods to be loaded onto the cart.
‘Morning, miss. Is this the home of a William Mattinson?’ A grim-looking man stood on the doorstep, dressed in the uniform of the Yorkshire Constabulary.
Daisy was taken aback. This was the newly formed police force for Leeds. Something must be wrong. ‘Er, yes, it is.’
‘Would you mind getting him for me, miss?’ The constable put his foot in the doorway, making his presence felt.
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Daisy turned round.
‘No need to, Daisy. I’m here.’ William rushed down to the bottom of the stairs, tucking in his shirt as he reached them. ‘What can I do for you, Officer?’
‘I think we should talk in private, sir, if you don’t mind.’ The constable entered the hallway.
‘Of course, of course. Please come in – come into the parlour. Daisy, could you make me some tea? Officer, would you like a cup, and perhaps a slice of toast?’
‘That would be most welcome, sir. Thank you, miss.’
Daisy knew there was something drastically wrong as she boiled the kettle on the range and toasted some slices of bread over the red coals with her toasting fork. She hurriedly laid the tea tray and buttered the toast, before quickly carrying the tray upstairs and knocking on the parlour door. The room was quiet. William seemed to have aged twenty years in the last five minutes.
‘It’s all right, Officer. Daisy is part of my household.’ William put his head in his hands and then ushered Daisy in, to offer the policeman some refreshment.
‘Sorry, miss, but James Mattinson was found by The Cut this morning, by one of the wharf hands. He’s only just alive and in St Mary’s Infirmary, in a sorry state. Someone has tried to kill him.’
‘The Cut?’ Daisy gasped. Where was The Cut, and who would do such a thing? Poor Jim – he was a monkey, but he didn’t deserve to be beaten nearly to death.
‘The canal, miss, down on Water Street. We think he’d been drinking, but we can’t be sure. He’s not a pleasant sight, and we can hardly make out what he’s saying.’
‘Officer, there’s no need for details. Once my wife joins us, I’d prefer for you not to tell her the lurid situation. We’ve recently lost a baby and her nerves will not stand it. Daisy, are you all right? I know he was with you in the kitchen yesterday. Did he say where he was going last night, or if he was going to meet someone?’ William paced the floor while the officer tucked into the cooling toast.
Daisy felt her legs trembling and sat down on one of the velvet-upholstered chairs. She remembered Jim’s laughter at her at the bottom of the stairs, and teasing her about smelling of onions, and the cheeky grin he had given her. ‘No, he didn’t say where he was going. I couldn’t make him a cup of tea because I was making chutney at the time, and he was sick of the smell. I should have made him a drink.’ She covered her eyes with her hands. ‘I can’t believe he’s fighting for his life.’
‘I can.’ Angelina entered the room. ‘He always lives life to the full – he’s a Jack-the-lad. Is that what you English say?’
‘And you are?’ The constable looked at Angelina, taking in that he had entered a house already in mourning and that both women were in black.
‘She’s my wife, Officer. If you can take me to see James, I’d be grateful. Are you sure it’s my brother you’ve found? I can’t believe someone would attempt to kill him.’
‘Oh aye, we are certain, sir. He’d one of your bills in his inside pocket, and Ebenezer Trotter recognized him. He was apparently a customer of his at the knocking shop. Sorry, ladies.’ The constable coughed. ‘I’ll take you to the hospital now. If he’s conscious I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘I’ll come with you now, Officer. My younger brother means everything to me.’ William went into the hallway and grabbed his hat and coat.
‘But the shop, William. It’s your opening day – what about the customers?’ It would appear that Angelina was more concerned about the business than about the nearly dead Jim.
‘Bugger the shop, woman! This is my brother, and he’s dying in St Mary’s. I need to see him and make sure he’ll live.’ William shoved his arms into his coat and put on his bowler hat.
Daisy watched the face of Angelina and the hurt of William. ‘I’ll open the shop. I can manage it on my own. I used to help my father with his market stall. If you can carry some things round for me and open up the shop, I’ll manage. You can’t let folk down on your opening day. Jim wouldn’t want it.’ Daisy looked determined – there was no way she would accept a refusal.
William hesitated. ‘Are you sure? You’ve worked a full day already.’
‘I’m sure, I just can’t carry all that I’ve made. Can
someone help me get it there?’
‘I’ll help, lass. It’s on the way to the hospital anyway. Give us what you want us to carry.’ The constable shoved the last piece of toast into his mouth and waited for his instructions.
‘She’ll manage – she’s a strong woman.’ Angelina wasn’t going to waste one working day worrying about her wayward brother-in-law. In fact she wasn’t going to worry about him full stop. She was glad he was going to be out of the picture for a while; it would prove what her husband could do, on his own two feet.
A procession of a police constable, a woman in mourning and a distraught businessman, laden with filled jam jars and baked goods, made their way through the still-sleepy streets of Leeds. This was not the opening day the Mattinson brothers had foreseen. Daisy looked up at the sign above the shop’s doorway as William unlocked the door, and remembered the cheeky grin of Jim as he proudly showed her the wording of the sign. Bless him, she thought. She hoped with all her heart that he would be all right, for she had secretly fallen in love with Jim’s cheeky ways. But she also knew it was like playing with dynamite, if she got too close.
‘I’ll just go up to his rooms and see if he’s left any clues about what he was doing down at the canal. Although, if you don’t mind me saying, sir, we all know the attractions on Water Street for the single man.’ The constable unloaded his arms of baskets and jars and waited for William to show him the way up to Jim’s rooms.
‘Of course. Here, let me show you the way, though I dread to think what state his rooms are in.’ William opened the door behind the counter that led up to Jim’s rooms and the two of them went up the stairs.
Daisy listened to the voices from up above as she arranged her jars of pickles and jams and displayed the baked goods, checking that there was enough cash in the till for change, before William left. Already there were people starting to shop further down the street. It would only be a matter of time before they expected the new shop to be open. Daisy closed her eyes and tried not to see the cheeky face of Jim, as she remembered him grinning at her from behind the counter. She couldn’t believe it; it seemed to her that any man she took a fancy to died, got beaten within an inch of his life or was an out-and-out cad. There was something about Jim Mattinson, and she couldn’t stop a tear falling down her cheek as she thought of him fighting for his life in a hospital bed. She wiped it quickly away; she wasn’t going to show her feelings to William and the constable. Jim would be soon be back, calling her ‘Daisy petal’, before she knew it.
‘There’s nothing there, sir, to make me suspicious. I think he’s just been set upon. He’d no brass in his pocket, so it’s a case of robbery.’ The policeman blew his nose on a grey-coloured hankie and shoved it back into his trouser pocket, before viewing the cakes Daisy had put out. ‘Nice-looking shop, sir. I’ll look in from time to time, see how you are doing.’
‘Thank you, Officer. Daisy, are you all right? Everything’s priced, there’s change in the till, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I seem to be making a habit of throwing you in at the deep end.’ William gave her a wan smile, before gesturing the policeman out the back door of the shop. The last thing customers wanted to see, on opening a new shop, was a peeler walking out of it.
Daisy watched the minute-hand on the wall clock ticking slowly around to exactly nine o’clock – time to open up. She tidied her hair, smoothed her apron down and breathed in deeply as she opened the doors to the crowd that had gathered. Let the trade begin, she thought. She didn’t know how she’d manage, but somehow she damn well would.
William watched his brother as he struggled to draw breath. His head was battered and bruised, with hardly a clean place of skin on view, while his arm was in a sling, with splints holding his broken bones in place.
‘Aye, Jim, who’s done this to you? I bet you’ve been messing with something, or someone, you shouldn’t.’ William sighed and banged his bowler on his knee. His younger brother was always getting into scrapes, and it was always him who picked up the pieces. ‘Our father would play hell with you, if he could see you. Why can’t you keep out of bother?’ William squirmed on the edge of the hard chair that he was sitting on, as he dropped his head in desperation.
‘He’d play hell with you, and all,’ came the faint reply from a conscious Jim, along with a faint smile, followed by a spluttering fit.
‘Nurse! Nurse, he’s coming round. Quick! My brother’s awake.’ William bent over Jim as he whispered more words.
‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ He smiled a weak smile and reached out for his brother’s hand.
‘Shush, our Jim! Just keep your strength.’ William watched as the nurse cleared the blood-spattered saliva that was blocking Jim’s airway, while he held his brother’s hand tightly. ‘Who did this to you, our Jim?’
‘I fell.’ It was a weak answer, before Jim drifted back into a deep sleep.
‘I think you’d better leave now, Mr Mattinson. Your brother needs his sleep. Come back in the morning.’ The nurse smiled as she indicated the exit to William.
William stole a quick look at his sleeping brother. Jim was lucky he wasn’t a lifeless corpse lying out in the cold grey morgue of the police station. The morgue and station had only recently opened, and the people of Leeds were grateful for the new force. The city had grown so quickly and needed a stabilizing police force to bring it to heel. He had heard rumours of gangs of thieves and their honey-traps, set up to trick prey like his brother, hiding in the sprawling dark and dank city streets of Leeds. He shook his head, trying to quell dark thoughts about the corruption, prostitution and gaming in many of Leeds’s back streets, especially on Water Street, where the prick-pinchers made their living and where Jim had been found.
William took a deep inhalation of breath as he made his way out of the hospital. The air outside was relatively clean, compared to the smell of ether and opium used by the hospital. He felt guilty, thinking of the times he’d fallen out with his brother of late, and regretted the row they had the previous evening. There was a gnawing worry as he walked away from the hospital. Jim did like a drink, but he’d never seen him drunk in his life; he always drank at the Three Bells – his local – with his cronies, while enjoying a game of cards. He hadn’t tripped, so someone must have hammered him to within an inch of his life. Jim had obviously been womanizing, probably with someone else’s woman, and had been caught. Whatever he had been doing, William found himself whispering, ‘Please, God, let him live’ under his breath.
Daisy looked around the shop. It was the first time she had been able to have a breather all day. Trade had been brisk, groceries had been bought, and she was especially pleased that her baking and preserves had nearly sold out. The trouble was that she’d have to do it all again in the morning. She hoped William would be able to hold the fort at the shop on his own tomorrow. The poor man had looked heartbroken at the news of his brother. But she couldn’t understand the reaction of Angelina – it was as if she didn’t care. She knew there was no love lost between her and Jim, but she could have shown a bit more understanding for her husband.
The shop bell rang, bringing Daisy back from her thoughts.
‘Afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?’ Daisy smiled at the well-dressed lady who had just entered the shop.
‘Yes, perhaps you can. My housekeeper purchased some of your goods this morning, one of which I’ve never sampled before. I believe it’s called “lemon cheese”? I’d like to place a regular weekly order, for it to be delivered to my home.’
‘Of course, ma’am. How many jars would you like, and is there anything else I can help you with?’
‘I’ve written a list that my housekeeper tells me you can supply. I’d like to set up an account in my name, which is Lady Amelia Hall of Rothwell Manor, Leeds. I must admit, from what I saw of the produce she bought, your standard is very high. My cook and housekeeper will be recommending you.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Daisy was proud of her cooking skills and was
glad the shop was going to benefit from them, but she was beginning to wish it was her name on the label of the preserves. After all, it was her recipe. However, she knew it was the Mattinsons who were investing their money, and she was only a woman in a man’s world. But one day she hoped things would be different.
Taking a glove off her lily-white hand, Lady Amelia picked up one of the china dishes. ‘This is beautiful china. Where has this come from, do you know?’ She studied the potter’s mark on a dish, turning it gently in her hands.
‘I think Mrs Mattinson had it imported from Italy. I’m afraid, other than that, I don’t know.’
‘I’ll take it. Have your delivery boy bring it to me, along with the first week’s order.’
‘All of it? I’m afraid I don’t know its cost.’ Daisy’s face must have shown her amazement at this woman’s wealth.
‘It’s of little consequence. It’s too beautiful not to be in my home. I expect all the pieces to be supplied in perfect shape – no chips or breakages.’ She replaced the glove on her elegant hand. ‘Tell your boy that I want him to deliver on Tuesday next week. And no ringing the front doorbell; all deliveries to the back door.’ She smiled. ‘Good day.’
Daisy sighed as she closed the door behind her. She’d never talked to a lady before. She didn’t know who the delivery boy was going to be, but she was sure William would sort something out – that order was too good to miss out on. Daisy leaned on the shop counter. She was exhausted. It was now nearly four o’clock and there was no sign of William. She’d give it another hour, and then she’d lock up. She slipped off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet, taking her eye off the counter for a minute until she heard the doorbell ringing. She raised her head, to see a weary William entering the shop. He looked round at his new empire. The stock needed replenishing, the floor needed sweeping – and there was his assistant in her stockinged feet.
‘Just look at it! One day without Jim and the place has gone to the dogs, and you are serving with nothing on your feet. I can’t do this without him – he’s always there. He’s a pain-in-the-arse perhaps, but he is my little brother.’ William collapsed on top of the counter, his head in his hands.
