‘That’s nice, ain’t it?’ Mrs Church addressed herself to Edward. ‘Bet you’ll be glad of an extra pair of hands, won’t you?’
‘Actually, Edward doesn’t need me, so I thought I’d help you out in the shop.’
‘Is that right?’ Mrs Church fixed her gaze on him for a moment. Then she said, ‘Well, I dunno as there’s much work for two in the shop, either. But it’d be nice to have company.’
She turned away from them, unbuttoning her coat.
‘It’s another freezing cold morning,’ she said.
‘That’ll be because it’s winter, Mrs C,’ Edward said cheerily.
‘They’re already queuing up at the soup kitchen, poor souls,’ she went on, ignoring him. ‘It breaks my heart to think of all those little mites going hungry. How can they go to school with nothing in their bellies?’ She shook her head sadly.
‘Perhaps we should take some of our stale loaves down there?’ Anna suggested.
‘Give away our stock, you mean?’ Edward laughed.
‘Only the ones we don’t sell that day,’ Anna said.
‘Unless you can sell ‘em the next,’ Mrs Church muttered.
Anna shook her head. ‘We’d never sell stale bread. Would we, Edward?’ She twisted round to look at him. He was staring back at Mrs Church, his mouth a tight line. ‘Edward?’
‘It’s better than wasting them,’ he said.
‘But you know Papa would only ever sell bread that was baked that morning.’
‘Yes, well, he didn’t have to deal with shortages, did he?’ Edward snapped. ‘You don’t know what it’s like. It ain’t easy when you don’t know when your next batch of flour is coming.’
‘All the same,’ Anna said. ‘We don’t want to get a bad reputation. It would be better to give the bread away, don’t you think?’
She looked at Edward. He was staring past her, his gaze still fixed on Mrs Church.
‘I’d better get back to work or there won’t be any bread at all.’ He turned on his heel and stalked back to the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.
‘Someone’s not happy,’ Mrs Church observed.
Anna stared at the closed door. ‘I’d better go and talk to him.’
‘No, leave him for a bit. Least said, soonest mended, I always say. That’s what I always did with my Ron, and it worked a treat.’ Mrs Church rubbed her thin hands together. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’
She made the tea while Anna lit the lamps in the shop and pulled up the window blinds. Charlie appeared with a tray of loaves.
‘I’ve been told to let you know they’re fresh baked this morning,’ he looked pointedly to Anna as he set them down on the counter.
‘I should think so, too,’ she replied pertly.
Ida Church was right, she thought. Let Edward sulk if he wanted to. She knew she was in the right. And Edward probably did too, which was why he was hiding away in the kitchen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
At eight o’clock they unlocked the shop door. But there were no customers queuing outside.
‘It’ll pick up,’ Mrs Church assured Anna, as she stood at the window, peering out into the empty street. ‘We’re seldom busy first thing.’
‘We used to be busy all the time,’ Anna said. ‘I remember when we had customers queuing outside for hot bread before the shop opened.’
‘Times have changed.’
It was a slow morning. Anna swept the shop and polished the brass on the till, and rearranged the loaves and buns in the shop window twice to make them look more appealing, but still no one came in.
She stared at the window display. She was beginning to understand what Edward meant. She had imagined they might have a couple of loaves left over at the end of the day, two or three at most. It would be heartbreaking to have to throw away so much stale stock. No wonder he wanted to keep it to sell the next morning.
Finally, the shop bell clanged and a harassed-looking young woman came in, ushering three children before her. Anna recognised her right away as Mrs Burns, who lived round the corner in Gossett Street.
‘Good morning, Mrs Burns,’ she greeted her.
The woman looked up at Anna, her gaze narrowing.
‘’Morning,’ she mumbled a half-hearted greeting, then turned to Mrs Church. ‘I’ll just take half a loaf, please.’
Anna watched as Mrs Church carefully sliced off half a loaf and wrapped it in brown paper. While her children were all bundled up against the cold in thick coats and mufflers, Mrs Burns’ coat was thin and threadbare. Her ungloved hands were raw with cold as she counted coins out of her purse.
On impulse, Anna went to the counter and fetched three penny biscuits.
‘Here, these are for you.’ She went to offer them to the children but as they reached out Mrs Burns put out her hand to stop them.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We can’t afford them.’
Anna looked at the three forlorn little faces staring up at her, their eyes round. ‘But they’re a present.’
‘We don’t want your charity!’ Mrs Burns snapped.
She stared at Anna, fire in her eyes. Then she turned back to Mr Church and counted out the last of the coins.
‘There,’ she said. ‘That should be right.’
She snatched up the bread and stuffed it in her basket, then ushered the now tearful children out of the shop without another word.
‘Mrs Burns—’ Anna started to say but the door had already shut in her face, the sound of the bell drowning out her words.
Anna stared at the door. ‘I don’t understand … I was only trying to be nice.’
‘Take no notice, love,’ Mrs Church comforted her. ‘She’s had a tough time of it since her husband was killed. And then there was all the business about her credit being stopped.’
Anna turned to face her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, didn’t you know? Your husband’s told me I’m not to let anyone have anything on tick anymore.’
‘Since when?’
‘Since he took over this place. Caused a right ruckus, I can tell you. I had to go around asking everyone to settle up their accounts. ’Course, some of ’em just didn’t have the money to pay, like poor Mrs Burns. But he wouldn’t hear of it, said they had to pay up before they were allowed anything else.’ She cocked her head. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t know about it? I thought he would have talked to you first.’
‘No,’ Anna said. ‘No, he didn’t.’
She looked back at the door, her mind racing. No wonder the shop was empty. At least half their customers bought on tick, paying up at the end of the week after they’d been paid. Not everyone could afford to settle their bills in full, and sometimes they would go weeks or months stacking up their credit, but her father never minded.
‘They’ll pay in the end,’ he said, and they always did.
And now Edward had decided to put a stop to it.
‘But I don’t understand. Why would he do something like that?’ she spoke her thoughts aloud.
‘Same reason he’s put the prices up, I daresay. To make money.’
Anna turned to her sharply. ‘He’s put the prices up?’
‘Didn’t he tell you that, either?’ Mrs Church’s brows rose. ‘Seems like he’s making a lot of decisions without consulting you,’ she remarked.
‘Yes,’ Anna said, ignoring her sly look. ‘Yes, he is.’
She went to the kitchen to look for Edward, but there was only Charlie in the kitchen. He was lounging against the sink, reading through the Racing Post. He glanced up at Anna, then went back to leafing through his newspaper.
‘If you’re looking for Eddie, he went out,’ he said.
‘Where did he go?’
‘I don’t know, do I?’
Anna glared at Charlie, but he didn’t look up. ‘When Mr Stanning comes back, tell him I want to see him,’ she snapped, and walked out of the kitchen.
She was restless all morning, waiting for Edward to come home. Sh
e did her best to help in the shop and keep up a cheery smile for what few customers they had. But all the time, she kept her ear cocked, waiting for his return.
They were shutting up the shop at noon for lunch when she finally heard his voice in the kitchen. Anna hurried down the passageway, Mrs Church at her heels.
Edward was laughing with Charlie about something as he took off his coat. He was still laughing when Anna walked in.
‘All right, love?’ He looked from her to Mrs Church standing at her shoulder. ‘Charlie’s just told me you wanted to see me. Is something wrong?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were putting up the prices?’ Anna blurted out.
Edward’s smile faded. He looked away, peeling off his gloves. ‘I didn’t think I had to,’ he said.
‘It would have been nice if you’d consulted me. This is my bakery, after all.’
Something in his expression changed, like a light going off behind his eyes.
‘I had no choice,’ he said. ‘The suppliers put their prices up, we were barely breaking even—’
‘Is that why you’ve cut off our customers’ credit?’
Edward looked at Mrs Church. ‘My, you have been busy, ain’t you?’ he said softly. ‘Bet you couldn’t wait to tell tales.’
‘I’m glad someone’s seen fit to tell me what’s going on!’ Anna shot back.
Edward’s face was taut with anger. Even Charlie looked wary, his glance flickering from one to the other.
‘I asked them to pay their bills, what’s wrong with that?’ Edward said.
‘You know most of them can’t afford it.’
‘Exactly! They’re in here every day, running up bigger and bigger bills they’re never going to pay. Meanwhile, we’re losing money. We might as well stand at the back door and give the bread away!’
‘My father would never have turned anyone away.’
‘Your father isn’t running the business anymore!’ Edward turned on her angrily. ‘And perhaps if he’d been more of a businessman, we wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in now!’
Anna stared at him, stunned. The kitchen had fallen silent, except for the sound of Edward’s heavy, furious breathing.
Then, suddenly, he was gone. They stood, frozen, listening to the sound of his footsteps thudding up the stairs, followed by the slam of doors overhead.
Anna glanced at Charlie. He scowled back at her from behind his newspaper. Mrs Church cleared her throat nervously.
‘Give him time. He’ll calm down soon, I expect.’
Another door slammed overhead, rattling the light fittings.
‘I’d better go and talk to him,’ Anna said.
Edward was pacing up and down in the sitting room like a caged tiger. As soon as Anna walked in, he turned on her furiously.
‘How dare you?’ he yelled. ‘Telling me off like I was a child!’
‘You’re acting like a child, throwing a tantrum and then running off!’ Anna threw back at him.
He ignored her and carried on pacing, as if he could walk off the heat of his temper. Then he stopped suddenly and turned on her.
‘I bet you love it, don’t you?’ he sneered. ‘Coming in and throwing your weight about, humiliating me in front of the staff.’
‘I wasn’t trying to humiliate you,’ Anna protested. ‘I was only asking why you’d made these decisions without talking to me first.’
‘“It would have been nice if you’d consulted me,”’ Edward mimicked her, his face twisting. ‘“This is my bakery, after all.” As if we didn’t already know that!’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Anna said. ‘I don’t think of myself as being in charge, you know that. It’s your job.’
‘Try telling that to Charlie and that old cow Mrs Church!’ Edward turned on her, his face a mask of bitter anger. ‘It’s already difficult enough to get her to take orders from me as it is. She’s always trying to put me in my place, telling me how Mr and Mrs Beck would do it.’ His features twisted into a cruel parody of Mrs Church’s thin, sombre face. ‘Then you turn up, checking on me, questioning everything I do, asking to know where I am, like I’m still the apprentice. God, I bet the old bag loved that!’ he scowled. ‘I bet she’s down there now, clapping her hands in glee.’
‘Edward!’
He swung round to face her. ‘You want to know where I was today? I’ll tell you, shall I? Delivering stale loaves to the soup kitchen, like you told me to.’
Anna stared at him. ‘I – I don’t know.’
‘No, because I didn’t realise I had to ask your permission for everything I did.’
‘You don’t.’
‘That’s not what it feels like. I ask you, how am I supposed to run a businss when you’re constantly undermining me?’
‘I’m not.’
‘Oh, yes, you are.’ Suddenly all the anger seemed to go out of him and he sank down on the moquette-covered couch, his head in his hands. ‘Christ, don’t you think it’s hard enough for me, taking over from your father? Friedrich Beck, the best baker in Bethnal Green.’ There was a bitter edge to his voice. ‘Everyone loved him, didn’t they? And everyone knows I’ll never be as good as he is.’
‘That’s not true!’ Anna sat down beside him and slipped her arm around his broad shoulders. ‘Papa was very proud of you, he wanted you to take over the business.’
‘But I’m making a mess of it, aren’t I?’ Edward turned his face to hers. ‘We’re struggling, Anna. Our costs have gone through the roof, we scarcely have any customers, and the ones we do have don’t pay their bills. It ain’t like the old days when they were queuing halfway down the street.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I put up the prices and stopped the customers’ credit. But I didn’t know what else to do.’
Anna looked into his face, and for the first time saw the despair in his blue eyes. ‘You’re doing your best. I know you are,’ she said.
‘But I ain’t your father, am I?’
‘Papa didn’t always get it right, either. Remember how Mother was always telling him off about letting customers run up big bills on tick?’
Edward gave a crooked smile. ‘I do remember that.’ He held her hand. ‘I just want to make you and your father proud.’
‘I am proud of you.’ Anna planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘You’re going to make a big success of our bakery, Edward Stanning.’
He sent her a teasing look. ‘Don’t you mean, your bakery?’
Anna felt herself blushing. ‘I mean our bakery,’ she corrected him. ‘We’re married now, remember? Everything I have is yours.’
‘I do remember.’ He smiled. ‘So does that mean you’ll trust me to make decisions?’
‘Of course.’
‘And I won’t have to ask your permission?’
‘Whatever you think is best.’
‘And you won’t listen next time Mrs Church goes telling tales?’
‘I’ll tell her to mind her own business.’ Anna kissed him again. And this time he kissed her back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The end of January brought a new intake of nurses to Walford House and as usual the residents had to shuffle around to make space for them. After escaping the Home Sister’s eagle eye for more than a year, Dulcie’s luck finally ran out and she was forced to give up the luxury of her single room to share with Grace Duffield.
Grace arrived on a damp, grey Sunday afternoon, dragging a trunk of belongings behind her.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ were her first words as she manhandled the heavy leather-bound trunk into the middle of the room and promptly tripped over it. ‘It’s an awful nuisance, you having to share.’
‘It isn’t your fault, I suppose,’ Dulcie sighed. ‘I’ve emptied the bottom drawer in the chest and cleared you some space in the wardrobe. Although goodness knows if it will be enough …’ She eyed the trunk, squatting in the middle of the room.
‘I’m sure I’ll manage,’ Grace said cheerfully. She bent down to u
nfasten the strap buckles on her trunk.
‘I hope you don’t snore?’ Dulcie said, as she watched her unpack.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘And don’t break anything.’
‘I’ll try not to.’
Grace threw open the wardrobe door and gazed at the sliver of space Dulcie had grudgingly cleared for her.
‘I didn’t think you had that many clothes?’ Dulcie said defensively.
Grace gave a little shrug. ‘I’m sure I’ll fit everything in somehow.’
She fetched an armful of clothes from her trunk and started arranging them on hangers.
‘I must say, I’m very glad to be sharing a room again,’ she said. ‘I’ve been lonely since Anna Beck started living out.’
‘I don’t know why Beck is still working here,’ Dulcie replied.
‘I think she enjoys her work.’
‘Then she must be mad!’ Dulcie snorted with derision. ‘When I’m married, I intend to be a lady of leisure – watch out!’
Grace swung round with an armful of clothes and knocked Dulcie’s powder compact off the bedside cupboard. Dulcie made a grab for it just before it hit the floor.
‘You clumsy goose! What did I say about not breaking anything?’ she snapped.
‘Sorry.’
‘You would be, if you broke this.’ Dulcie snapped open the compact and checked the mirror. The enamelled compact had been a gift from a besotted medical student. Dulcie had waited until he had presented it to her to tell him she wasn’t interested.
She watched in fascination as her room-mate unpacked the rest of her belongings from the trunk.
‘You have a lot of photographs,’ she observed, as Grace arranged them carefully on her bedside table.
‘They’re my family.’ She polished a gilt frame with her sleeve and smiled fondly down at the photograph. ‘I like to see them when I wake up and say goodnight to them before I go to bed. A bit silly of me, I suppose.’ She looked shame-faced.
Dulcie glanced at her own bedside table, empty but for her compact, her lipstick and a tattered copy of Tatler.
‘Let me see.’ She reached for one of Grace’s photographs. ‘Goodness, what a lot of children!’
Nightingale Wedding Bells Page 21
