Chapter 12

Liverpool, April 1869

Patty and Vera were sitting together in a corner of one of the many small courtyards that linked the various sections of the workhouse, enjoying the warmth of some early spring sunshine. A bucket of the inevitable potatoes was at their feet but they were cherishing a rare moment of idleness. Joyce, one of the older women who worked in the kitchen, who was with them, looked up at the sound of approaching voices.

‘Hey up! Better look busy. We’ve got visitors.’

All three of them fell to peeling potatoes as if their lives depended on it, but squinting up without raising her head Patty saw the governor and Mrs Court escorting a well-dressed middle-aged man and a younger woman across the courtyard and into the kitchen.

‘I wonder who they are,’ Vera said as the little party disappeared.

‘Couple of busy bodies come to poke their noses in,’ Joyce said. ‘Some of them fancy a bit of slumming so they can go home and feel smug because they’re not like us.’

Shortly the group reappeared and Patty saw them descend the steps leading to the children’s classrooms, which were situated under the chapel. She felt a little shiver of fear at the memory of those rooms, even at this distance in time. Her recollections of her days there were not happy. She knew that Miss Bale, who had terrorised her as a child, was still in charge of the girls. She had seen her escorting her class into the dining hall at meal times, but had been careful to keep out of her way in case she was recognised. She wondered what the young lady visitor would make of what she saw. Of course, Miss Bale was good at putting on a show. She would have one of the brighter, more amenable girls stand up and recite her seven times tables, or exhibit her handwriting. And if the lady spoke to any of the others none of them would dare tell her how much a stroke of the ruler hurt on cold, thin hands or how often they were forced to miss a meal to redo work that was not up to Miss Bale’s exacting standards. The teacher’s revenge afterwards was not something any of them would wish to contemplate.

The visitors emerged and it seemed to Patty that the lady’s expression was less sanguine that it had been. She was earnestly questioning Mrs Court who was murmuring reassuring responses. As they headed back towards the governor’s office they were confronted by a bizarre vision: an old lady, gaunt and grey-haired, sporting a bonnet that had once been the height of fashion but was now filthy and battered, the ribbons and flowers that decorated it now tattered and limp. In addition to this, she clutched around her narrow shoulders a silk shawl, stained and fraying at the edges.

‘Oh lawks!’ Joyce exclaimed, with suppressed hilarity. ‘It’s Mad Nelly. I wonder what they’ll make of her.’

The old woman approached the visitors and made a curtsy. ‘Good day to you, sir and madam. Delighted to make your acquaintance.’ Her cracked voice still retained some element of sophistication.

Mrs Court stepped forward. ‘Now, Nelly …’

‘You will be acquainted with my papa, Sir John, of course,’ the old lady continued. ‘Please inform him that I am waiting for him to take me home.’

The two visitors looked at each other in consternation. Mrs Court took the old woman’s arm. ‘This is your home, Nelly. Now don’t bother the lady and gentleman any more.’ She began to urge her back in the direction she had come from.

The governor turned to his guests apologetically. ‘I am sorry you were troubled. It is a sad case. I believe it is something the medical men term “delusions of grandeur”. Now, if you would care to return to my house, my wife will be happy to offer you tea.’

The party moved off and Joyce let go a suppressed cackle of laughter. ‘She’s a caution, isn’t she?’

‘I think it’s sad,’ Patty said. ‘Poor old girl!’

‘You don’t think it could be true, do you?’ Vera asked. ‘That she really has got wealthy relations somewhere?’

‘’Course not!’ Joyce said. ‘How could she have ended up in here if she had?’

The following afternoon a small girl came to inform Patty that she was wanted in Mrs Court’s office. Her immediate reaction was to wonder what minor regulation she had infringed. She had a dread of being removed from her job in the kitchen, where she felt more or less at ease, and sent to another area, such as the dreaded oakum-picking shed. She knocked nervously on the office door and the superintendent looked up from her desk.

‘Ah, Patty. I have a job for you.’

Patty’s heart sank. ‘Please, ma’am, I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, but please don’t take me out of the kitchen.’

‘Done wrong?’ Mrs Court looked puzzled. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Nothing,’ Patty mumbled in confusion. ‘I just thought …’

‘Oh, never mind,’ Mrs Court interrupted. ‘Just sit down and listen.’

Patty sat.

‘You saw the visitors who came round yesterday?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ A dreadful thought struck her. Had the lady been one of her customers at the tea shop? Had she been recognised? Perhaps the strangers were on a formal visit of inspection and felt that she was being insufficiently punished for her part in the scandal.

Mrs Court was continuing to speak. ‘The gentleman is Sir Basil Fanshawe. He is a wealthy shipping merchant and a member of the Vestry, which is responsible for the running of the workhouse.’

Patty’s sense of impending doom increased.

‘The lady is Miss Helena Thornton. They are soon to be married. It seems that Miss Thornton was interested to see round a place to which her future husband gives his time and authority. It came, I am afraid, as something of a shock to her.’

I bet it did! Patty thought. Most of the gentry have no idea what goes on in places like this.

Mrs Court went on. ‘She was particularly disturbed by the children and she feels she wishes to do something to make their lives a little more cheerful. Apparently she asked one little girl what she missed most about her old home and the child replied “the cakes my mum used to make when one of us had a birthday”. When Miss Thornton inquired what sort of cakes they were, the child said “ones with currants in them”.’ The superintendent drew a breath and expelled it in a sigh of impatience. ‘So Miss Thornton has decided that every child between the ages of five and fourteen should be given a piece of cake next Sunday afternoon, to celebrate her engagement to Sir Basil. The governor feels that, rather than buy cakes in from a local baker, they should be made on the premises. Miss Thornton has given the money to provide the necessary ingredients and it has been left to me to arrange the baking. Naturally, I immediately thought of you. There are fifty-four children of the prescribed age. Can you produce cakes for that number by next Sunday? It is only two days away.’

It took Patty a few seconds to absorb this unexpected turn of events. Then she said, ‘Of course I can. I’m used to cooking for a lot of people. That is … if I can get hold of the ingredients.’

‘I have already said that Miss Thornton has left money to pay for them. You had better make a list of what you need and I will send someone out for them. No, on second thoughts, it will be better for you to go yourself. I will arrange for someone to escort you to a suitable shop. Will tomorrow morning be soon enough?’

‘Tomorrow, yes.’ It was unbelievable. She was being treated as if she was on equal terms with the superintendent, as if things were being arranged for her convenience. Her mind was already busy with recipes, and with the practicalities of what she was being asked to do. ‘I’ll need time in the kitchen, the use of the oven, without being interfered with.’

‘I have thought about that. There are a few hours between serving dinner and preparing the supper. Will that be long enough?’

‘It should be. When are the children going to be given this cake?’

‘At four o’clock. Oh, I forgot to say, Miss Thornton is going to be present herself to hand it out.’

Of course she is! Patty thought. Wouldn’t want to miss the chance of playing Lady Bountiful!

Aloud she said, ‘I’ll have to bake tomorrow, then. It won’t matter. If it is to be a fruit cake it will keep perfectly well till the next day.’

‘Excellent!’ Mrs Court said. ‘You get on with making your list and I’ll see there is someone to go with you tomorrow.’

‘There’s one thing,’ Patty said. ‘I’ll need an assistant. You will not object if Vera comes with me?’

‘No, no. I think that is a good choice. Vera is a very sensible young woman.’

‘Oh, and I’ll need paper and a pencil, if I’m going to make a list.’

‘Of course. I should have thought of that.’ Mrs Court took two sheets of writing paper from a folder on her desk and handed them to Patty with a pencil. ‘Will this be sufficient?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Well then.’ Mrs Court got up, indicating that the interview was over. She held Patty’s gaze for a moment. ‘We have the opportunity to make a good impression on someone who will soon be in a position of influence, where the workhouse is concerned. It is very important that Miss Thornton is not disappointed.’

Patty returned her look. ‘It’s important that the children are not disappointed, too. It’s them I’ll be thinking of while I’m cooking.’

Back in the kitchen she relayed the gist of the conversation to Vera.

‘It’s a tall order, at such short notice,’ Vera said. ‘Can you do it?’

‘’Course I can, with your help.’

‘Oh, you can count on that.’ Vera smiled. ‘I think it’s really kind of Miss Thornton to arrange a treat like this.’

‘Is it?’ Patty said. ‘She’ll get her reward, playing the charitable lady with everyone looking up to her and thanking her for her generosity. I don’t suppose she’ll even notice the hole in her pocket. That sort of thing comes easy to some people.’

Vera put her head on one side and frowned. ‘I never thought of you as being so cynical. As I see it, Miss Thornton saw how poor the children’s lives are and wanted to bring a little cheer into them. I think we should applaud her for that.’

Patty rubbed a hand over her face. ‘Perhaps you’re right. We should give her the benefit of the doubt, I suppose.’

‘We must try not to see the worst in people,’ Vera said.

‘We both have reason to expect the worst,’ Patty said. ‘But you’re right. It doesn’t help to always look on the dark side. And the children will be pleased, whoever pays for the cakes.’

‘Exactly,’ Vera said. ‘So let’s get busy. What are you going to need?’

By supper time Patty had her list and next morning one of the wardresses arrived to escort her and Vera into the city. Patty was careful not to choose any of the shops from which Freeman’s had bought their goods, in case she was recognised, but it was a joy just to go into a grocer’s and smell the familiar odours of spices and dried fruits. The wardress had a purse with the money but it was Vera who carefully noted down the prices against Patty’s list.

When they had everything on it she added it up and said, ‘There’s money over. Are you sure we have enough of everything?’

‘Easily,’ Patty said. ‘I’ve worked it all out. What shall we do with the rest? We can’t give it back.’

‘I have an idea,’ Vera said. ‘We could ice the cakes, that would make them extra special.’

So they added icing sugar to the list and then, again at Vera’s suggestion, some cochineal to colour it.

Back in the kitchen at the workhouse Patty set to work and with Vera’s help the first batch of cakes were soon in the oven. Patty had had the presence of mind to add several bun tins to her list, knowing that no such things had ever been required there before. When they were cool Vera set to work icing them while Patty got on with the next batch.

‘I’ve had a thought,’ Vera announced.

‘What now?’

‘This whole thing is supposed to be in celebration of Helena Thornton’s engagement to Sir Basil Fanshawe, isn’t it?

‘That’s what Mrs C. told me.’

‘Suppose we were to decorate each cake with their initials in pink icing.’

‘That’s a lot of extra work.’

‘But it would make it clear to the children why they are being given them.’

‘They won’t ask why,’ Patty said. ‘They’ll just ask for more – which they won’t get.’

‘I know that,’ Vera said. ‘That’s not the point.’

‘So what is?’

‘You did say Miss Thornton is coming to hand them out in person, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘If she sees that we have taken the extra trouble, as a compliment to her and Sir Basil, it will make a good impression, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose so. But I can’t see why we should bother. Chances are we shall never set eyes on either of them again.’

‘Think about it! If we are ever going to achieve our ambition of having our own shop, we shall need all the help we can get. Sir Basil is on the Vestry committee. If we can make a good impression on him, he might help us one day.’

‘I don’t see how.’

‘Nor do I, at the moment. But it can’t hurt to have an important man on our side. And one day, if … when we open our shop, Miss Thornton, or Lady Helena as she will be then, might be one of our first patrons.’

Patty stopped dolloping spoonfuls of mixture into tins and looked at her friend. ‘You’re right. I would never have thought that far ahead. You’re much cleverer than me, Vera.’

‘No, I’m not. We just have different talents, that’s all. That’s why it will be so good for us to work together.’

Patty reached out to touch her arm, then saw that her hand was covered in flour and drew it back. ‘I’m that glad I met you.’

Vera smiled at her. ‘Me, too.’

It took a long time to add the combined HB initials on every cake, but when they had finished Patty looked them over with satisfaction. ‘I’d have been happy to serve those in Freeman’s tea shop, if I was still there.’

‘You’ll be serving them in your own shop one day,’ Vera promised.

‘Taste one,’ Patty said. ‘I made a few extra.’

They sampled the cakes in silence, relishing the sweetness after so many days of bland, unappealing food. As they were storing them away ready for the following day a figure appeared in the doorway.

‘I wonder if I could trouble you for one of your cakes?’ said a quavering voice.

Patty looked round to see the gaunt outline of Mad Nelly supporting herself with one hand on the door jamb.

‘Now then, Nelly,’ Vera said. ‘These are for the children, not for everyone else.’

‘You were eating one,’ the old woman pointed out.

‘Yes, but we cooked them,’ Vera said, slightly embarrassed.

‘Oh, come on,’ Patty said. ‘We can spare one more. Here you are, Nelly.’

A bony hand shot out and the cake was rapidly crammed into the toothless mouth. Nelly chewed and swallowed and licked her lips. ‘Thank you. That was kind.’ A pause. Then, ‘And my name is Eleanor.’

Patty smiled at her. ‘As you wish, Eleanor. Now, off you go. And don’t tell anyone else, will you.’

The old woman drew herself up. ‘A lady knows when to be discreet.’

As the door closed behind her Vera said, ‘I wonder where she learned to speak like that.’

‘My guess is she was in service in a great house somewhere and picked it up from listening to the gentry,’ Patty said. ‘There were a few like that when I was at Speke Hall, parlourmaids and footmen, trying to make out they were a cut above the rest of us.’

The next afternoon Patty and Vera set out their cakes in the dining hall, making them look as attractive as they could on the chipped dinner plates. Patty knew they would be greeted with delight by the children, but she could not suppress a twinge of nervousness about Miss Thornton’s reaction. Beside the kind of confectionery she was used to, these must look very unexciting, she thought. The children filed in, with a suppressed hum of anticipation, and took their places on the long benches. They were all on their best behaviour. No one wanted to miss a treat like this.

When they were all assembled, the governor and Mrs Court escorted Miss Thornton to the top of the room, where Patty and Vera waited. When she saw the cakes Helena gave a little gasp and clasped her hands in front to her face.

‘Oh, how pretty you’ve made them! And you’ve put our initials on them. What a lovely idea!’ She looked at the governor. ‘Who is responsible for these?’

The governor puffed out his chest as if he had made the cakes with his own hands. ‘They were produced here, in our own kitchens, I am happy to say.’

Mrs Court stepped forward. ‘They were made by these two young women, Miss Thornton. May I present Patty Jenkins and Vera Aston?’

To Patty’s surprise Helena held out her hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet you. And thank you for making my little idea turn out so well.’

Patty briefly touched the outstretched hand and curtsied. ‘Honoured, ma’am.’

Helena shook hands with Vera, too. Then Patty offered one of the less cracked plates, on which she had carefully arranged three of the cakes.

‘Will you try one, ma’am?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I should not wish to deprive one of the children. But they do look tempting.’

‘It’s all right, ma’am,’ Patty said. ‘I made enough to go round.’

‘Oh, well, in that case …’ Helena took a cake and bit into it. Behind her, Patty could almost hear the communal sucking in of saliva from the watching children. ‘It’s delicious!’ Helena declared. ‘Beautifully baked.’

Patty offered the other two cakes to the governor and Mrs Court and they ate them with appreciative murmurs. Helena turned to look at the long rows of boys and girls.

‘Now, shall we let the children have theirs?’

‘Would you like them to come up one by one, so they can thank you properly?’ the governor asked.

‘Oh, no! That would mean some of them would have to wait such a long time,’ was the reply. ‘Why don’t we just pass the cakes along the tables?’

‘Beg pardon, ma’am,’ Patty said. ‘I think that way there might be none left by the time the plate got to the end.’

‘I see what you mean,’ Helena said. ‘Well, perhaps you could help me to hand them out. If I take one side of the girls’ table and you take the other, perhaps Mrs Court and Miss Aston could do the same with the boys.’

Patty saw Mrs Court’s eyebrows go up at Vera being called ‘Miss Aston’ but she said nothing and Helena was already making her way down the table with a plate in her hand. Patty followed her example. Eager hands reached out and young voices repeated again and again, ‘thank you, ma’am’. Some of the children ate their cakes in two or three bites, as if afraid that they might be snatched away from them. Others nibbled slowly, savouring the taste, trying to make the pleasure last as long as possible. Apart from the words of thanks, no one spoke, but after a few minutes there was a kind of collective sigh, a mixture of satisfaction and regret.

When all the cakes had been handed out and they returned to the top table Patty saw to her amazement that there were tears in Helena’s eyes.

‘Poor little mites. It was such a small thing. Did it really mean so much to them?’

‘Oh yes, ma’am,’ Patty said. ‘They’ll remember today for months.’

‘You speak as if you knew how they feel.’

‘I do, ma’am. You see, I grew up here.’

‘You did? But you have not spent your whole life here, surely?’

‘Oh no, ma’am.’ Patty was wishing she had not spoken. ‘No, I left when I was fourteen. I … I’ve had a few jobs since then but …’

‘But you lost the last one and could not find another? I’m amazed. I should think many people would be glad to employ someone with your talent for baking.’

The conversation was ended, to Patty’s relief, by the governor. ‘Well, Miss Thornton, as you can see the children are all very grateful for your kind thought. Now, perhaps we should adjourn to my house for tea?’

Helena nodded and turned to Patty and Vera. ‘Thank you again. I know it must have been a lot of extra work. I really appreciate your efforts – and I shall not forget, any more than the children will.’

When she had gone, and the children were filing out of the hall, Vera said, ‘What did I tell you? We’ve made a good impression, and one day that may come in very useful.’

A few days later, in a pause in the normal work of preparing supper, Vera said, ‘I’ve got a new idea.’

Patty looked up. It had been a long day and she was tired, and Vera’s ideas usually meant extra work. ‘What now?’

‘The cakes went down really well, didn’t they?’

‘Yes. But it was a once in a blue moon thing. It won’t happen again.’

‘Not like that, of course. But listen, we get paid a few pence every week for our work in the kitchen. If we pool our resources, by the time the next Thursday we are allowed out on comes round we should have enough to buy the ingredients to make maybe a dozen buns. They don’t have to be anything elaborate, like the cakes we made for the children. There are lots of people who would be happy to pay a penny for a sweet bun.’

‘I suppose so,’ Patty said cautiously. ‘But will we be allowed to do it?’

‘Who would know? We shall not be using any of the stuff supplied by the management. And no one who enjoys the buns is going to let on.’

‘But I don’t see the point,’ Patty said. ‘Why are we doing it?’

‘So we make a profit. And by the next month, we can buy enough to make twice as many. Do you see where I’m going?’

‘I’m no good at adding up,’ Patty said. ‘I always got my sums wrong when I was in Miss Bale’s class. But I don’t see the point, if we are always going to spend any profit we make on ingredients for the next month.’

‘But there will come a point when we don’t have to do that. We can buy enough flour and butter and what not for two dozen buns and have money left over – and that we can save. See?’

‘I think so,’ Patty said. ‘But why are we doing it?’

‘Because we’ve already agreed that if we are going to start a business of our own we need capital.’

‘But it will take months – years – to save enough for that.’

‘Maybe. But which is better, to save for five years so we can get out of this place – or to make up our minds that we’re going to be here for the rest of our lives?’ Vera asked.

Patty summoned up a weary smile. ‘You win. You’re right as usual.’ She reached out and caught hold of Vera’s hand. ‘I’m so lucky I’ve got you for a friend.’

Vera squeezed her hand in return. ‘The feeling’s mutual.’

As spring turned to summer it was clear that Vera’s plan was working. On the Friday after the monthly exit day there was always a queue outside the kitchen door of women ready with their pennies for one of Patty’s cakes, and soon they were able to set aside some of the money. It was a very small amount, which Vera kept concealed in a jar labelled Dried Fruit, under a bag of currants, but for both of them it represented hope for the future. Every month, also, when the queue had dispersed one gaunt figure hung on in the doorway. Mad Nelly was too frail and unreliable to be set to work, so she never had any money, but Patty always kept back one cake to give to her.

On the third Thursday in June the two friends were ready as usual to set out for the shops. As they stepped out of the gate, Patty saw a familiar figure waiting.

‘Lucy! Whatever are you doing here?’

The girl rushed forward and threw her arms around Patty. ‘Oh, Patty! I’m so sorry! So sorry!’

‘Sorry for what?’ Patty asked, holding her off to look into her face.

‘To see you here. Someone told me you were, but I couldn’t believe them. It’s not fair!’

‘Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,’ Patty said. ‘Who told you I was here?’

‘Susan. We grew up here together, but she’s younger than me so she’s still here. We sometimes meet up on these Thursdays, when I can get away. You chose me to come and work at Freeman’s and I’ve never forgotten that and I’ll always be grateful. So when Sue said she’d seen you here I had to come and see you. But it’s all wrong! You shouldn’t be here.’

‘Listen, Lucy,’ Patty said, taking hold of her arm. ‘I made a stupid mistake. I let a man talk me into something I knew was wrong and now I’m paying for it. Just don’t let the same thing happen to you.’

‘I won’t,’ Lucy promised. ‘I’ll try not to.’ She delved into a pocket in her skirt. ‘Oh, look, I nearly forgot. This came for you. I’ve been keeping it till I could come and see you.’

She held out an envelope. Patty took it with a sudden lift of her heart. It was postmarked Australia.

Freshfields

Rutherglen,

Victoria

April 3^rd 1869

Dear Patty,

I am married! James and I were wed on March 20^th at St Stephen’s Church here in Rutherglen. He arrived here in February, just as he promised, and life has been a wonderful whirl since then. He was determined to set himself up in his own career as soon as possible and our first thought was that he might apply to one of the established solicitors’ practices in Beechworth to see if they would take him as a partner. I was not really happy with this idea as Beechworth is several hours’ drive from here and it would mean I could not see my father and Gus as often as I would wish to. But then Father pointed out that anyone in this area who needs the services of a lawyer also has to make a long drive to Beechworth, as there is no one closer, so he suggested that James should set up on his own account in Rutherglen. So he has rented a couple of rooms above the draper’s shop and almost as soon as he put up his brass plate he had his first client! It now looks as though he will soon have a thriving practice.

At present we are living at Freshfields, but we have purchased a plot of land not far away, overlooking the lake, and we are having a house of our own built there. For the first time in my life I shall have a home of my own and it means I can still see the rest of my family every day, so it is the ideal solution.

You can imagine how busy we have been in the last few weeks, what with planning our new home and preparing for the wedding but somehow it all got done and the great day arrived – a day I have so often dreamed of and which I was afraid might never happen.

Of course, one important thing I needed to arrange was my wedding gown. I know that white is now the fashionable colour, since the Queen wore it for her wedding, but I decided that a white gown would not have any practical use afterwards, so I chose a beautiful cream silk. There is a woman in the nearby town of Chiltern who is a skilled dressmaker and has made several dresses for me since I arrived here. We designed the dress between us. It is Empire style, with a short train and a neckline trimmed with a deep fringe of cream lace. The waist and the back of the dress are ornamented with bows of pale lavender-blue ribbon and I made myself a bonnet trimmed with flowers in the same colour. My little bridesmaid wore a dress of the same blue with a circlet of lavender and white flowers on her hair.

Oh yes! I must explain about my bridesmaid. Can you believe it was Angel? If anyone had told me when I was holding her on my knee in the nursery at the workhouse that one day she would be my bridesmaid, I should have thought it was a fairy tale! But let me explain how it came about. You will remember that I told you in one of my letters that her real father had turned up out of the blue at the solicitor’s office where James worked and asked for their help in finding her, but when they enquired they discovered that she had been sent away to school in Ireland and had run away and no one knew where she was. Well, she has had a most extraordinary time. She was taken in by some gypsies and then literally sold to a company of travelling music hall performers. Did I mention before that she has a most beautiful singing voice? It seems she became quite the star of the show and all was going well until the company was invited to perform in Liverpool. Angel’s face was on all the bill boards and her adoptive father saw it and actually kidnapped her from the theatre, but James and Richard (that’s her father) saw it too and somehow managed to get her away. Richard and James have become fast friends, in fact he acted as James’s best man. He is a mining engineer and is convinced that it will not be difficult for him to find work here so he decided to bring Angel – I mean Amy – and her nursemaid/governess, a delightful young woman called Lizzie Findlay, to Australia with James.

Amy is a remarkable child. She is only nine years old but she is so self-possessed that you would think she was much older. I suppose after her experiences in Ireland that is not surprising. But she can also be quite wilful and likes to get her own way. There has been some discussion about her education. Richard feels she should go to the local school and learn to mix with other children, but I am afraid that she will find it hard to fit in. She learned a lot at her convent school, although she was only there for a short time, and he and Lizzie have been teaching her on the long voyage out, and I fancy she is far beyond the standard of most of the local children of her own age. It is a problem, but I suppose I must leave it to her father and not interfere. The one thing we all agree on is that she must be allowed to develop her amazing talent for singing, though how that is to be managed is another question.

Well, I think that is all my news for now. It seems to be a long time since I heard from you. I expect you are very busy managing the tea shop. I’m so glad Mr Freeman recognised what a wonderful cook you are and gave you that chance. He has always done so much for both of us. Please give him my regards when you see him. And write soon!

With love from your old friend,

May