Chapter Eleven

 

 

March merged into April, and April into May. The weather grew warmer, which brought more customers into the shop as they passed by, strolling in the spring sunshine.

Dorothea Cannon, true to her word, told several acquaintances about the tearooms and these regular gentlemen and ladies kept the tearooms afloat. The spirited lady visited once a week on a Thursday, staying for an hour or so, chatting to not just Kitty, but Mary also. Sometimes, she even ventured out to the back to sit and share a word with Connie and Alice. Alice’s ability at making such wonderful pastry delights interested her greatly. Dorothea confessed her own cook was far less talented.

Towards the end of May, Kitty stood filling sugar bowls at the table in the backroom. Sunshine streamed in though the open doorway. She looked up as Connie returned from delivering their weekly food orders to different stores.

Connie flopped down with a tired sigh and pointed to the courtyard. “I think we should get some hens, our lass.”

“Where would we put them?”

“I was thinkin’ Max an’ Joe could pull up some of them stone flags down back end an’ with a bit of wire an’ some wood, they could mekk a grand hen run.”

“But why?” Kitty placed the full sugar bowls back onto a tray.

“Because Hal Dunsworth charges outrageous prices. I don’t think we should do business with him anymore.”

Kitty picked up the tray and gave Connie a funny look. “Hal Dunsworth was the only merchant who would give us an account when we first opened. The others said we would have to prove ourselves first and that they didn’t give accounts out to just anyone. So, he deserves our loyalty.”

“Well, I still think it’s a good idea,” protested Connie. “I like the thought of having fresh eggs laid at our very back door.”

“If Max wants to build a hen run, he can,” Kitty relented, “and, if you want the hens so much, you may acquire them.”

Of late, Connie worried her. Her dear friend easily grew tired towards the end of each day and wasn’t as robust as usual. Putting the tray on the table, Kitty studied Connie, who sat with her eyes closed. “Are you feeling all right?”

Connie opened her eyes and sat straighter. “Course, I am.”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately. Last night you fell asleep by the fire and it was barely seven o’clock.”

“I’m gettin’ old.” Connie shrugged.

“Oh, come now, you aren’t yet forty! Hardly old.”

Connie stood and fiddled with a stack of napkins. “If you must know, I’ve started ter go through the change.”

“The change? Are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure. I haven’t had a flow for months. I was told once that you go through the change earlier if you’ve had no babbies.” Connie nodded with a wise look.

“It might be best if you went to see a doctor.”

“Nonsense. I’ll not have some bloody doctor tellin’ me what I already know. ‘Tis a waste of good brass.”

“But Connie, your health is more important than money—”

“No, our lass, I’ll not go. So, don’t be wastin’ your breath. I know what’s happening. I know me own body.”

“All right, if you are certain that’s the problem.” Kitty picked up the tray again and entered the shop. While placing the sugar bowls on each table, she promised herself to pay closer attention to Connie. She couldn’t imagine life without her.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

In the pleasant summer days of June and July, trade grew at the tearooms. The city of York basked under the blue skies and the sun’s golden rays. On weekends, the city’s people took the opportunity of the fine weather to rest and play. The long awaited news of the conclusion of the American civil war raised everyone’s spirits. The mill workers hoped the southern states would soon resume shipping cotton over to the numerous Yorkshire mills. People put off in the last few years might again obtain work.

In the poorer parts of town, children shrieked with laughter as they ran barefooted throughout the streets, enjoying the sun on their faces and the freedom of youth. Such world issues didn’t concern them as they played their games. The elderly sat on stools smoking clay pipes while watching the youngsters and gossiping with neighbours. Huge curtains of washing hung drying between buildings in never-ending lines up and down the tenements.

The wealthy, on the other side of town, took to their open-topped carriages and gigs. Ladies strolled in beautiful gardens and picked flowers to inhale their fragrances while shading themselves with pretty pastel parasols. Summer tea parties and balls were arranged, as those who stayed in London for the winter returned to their country homes ready to socialize with friends. It was such a busy time of the year, with fox hunts and rides into the vast countryside as well as picnics, musical soirées and concerts.

Inside the tearooms on Petergate however, a sombre mood prevailed. Kitty worked liked someone possessed. She lived and breathed the teashop. She rose before first light and went to bed just before midnight. She worried about the shop, the children, Connie and Ben. She lost weight from the stress, but most of all, she lost her humour.

Kitty sat in her office pretending to work on her accounts, but her mind wandered from the neat rows of figures. If it weren’t for three certain causes of anxiety she would be happier, but the three issues worried her beyond despair.

“There you are.” Dorothea Cannon tapped her gold-topped cane on the floor in the doorway to the small office. “You should be out in the sunshine.”

Kitty stood to greet her guest. “How are you today?” She kissed her cheek.

“You look ill, girl.” Dorothea sat on a nearby chair. Her camel-coloured crinoline spread out like icing over a cake.

“No, not really.”

Dorothea peered at her. “I can tell something is wrong. Can you not confide in me?”

Kitty leaned back in her chair. She shrugged one shoulder and picked at her dark grey skirt. “I have a few worries, nothing much to bother you with.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” The older woman inclined her head and the purple feather on her hat bobbed jauntily.

“Well, I’m worried about my brother, Joe. I recently learnt he’s been associating with a group of young boys of dubious character. He’s been staying out late and has become rude to other members of the family. This morning, I received a letter from his school, which informed me of his many absences. So, I must deal with him and set down some ground rules for obviously I have allowed him to get away with far too much lately.”

“Little scamp,” Dorothea scoffed. “Do you want me to have him sent into the navy? I have a retired cousin who can put him on a ship.”

“No!” Kitty put a hand up to her head in alarm. “No, thank you, I’ll talk to him.”

Dorothea sighed dramatically. “Very well then. What else?”

“It’s Connie. I think she is ill. She won’t discuss it or see a doctor. Twice she has fainted this week. Alice and I nearly had heart failure when she fell. Connie believes it is the change.”

“To put your mind at rest, send for a doctor the minute she looks unwell and don’t listen to her excuses.” Dorothea leaned closer to pat her arm. “Is my grandson a worry too?”

She nodded. “Although I can do nothing about that. Not receiving a letter in months hurts deeply. He said he would write a letter on board the ship and send it at the first port of call. If he had done this, then by now I should surely have received it. It’s July. He should be there now. Have you heard from him?”

“No, and neither has John or Georgina. I’m sure he has written, but ships on the ocean are beyond our control.”

“I guess I’m too impatient.” She didn’t reveal her anxiety that Georgina would do good on her threat of writing poisoned letters about her.

Dorothea stood. Her knees cracked as she did so. “Help me, dear girl, I’m so old.”

Kitty rushed to give her aid and together they walked out to the front of the shop.

By her carriage, Dorothea paused. “Don’t lose heart, sweet Kitty McKenzie. All will be well.”

The carriage drove off but Kitty stayed on the footpath. She bit her bottom lip as thoughts of Ben flooded her mind. He would be leading an exciting life in a new and wondrous country. She longed to be with him.

All will be well. Dorothea’s words rang like a church bell in her head. But would it?

With a sigh, she returned to her tiny office. She closed her account book and put it away in the desk drawer. Four small piles of coins sat on the desktop; wages. Kitty looked at the money. She had done well enough to employ a fourteen-year-old girl, Mildred Hollings. Mildred helped in both the shop and the backroom in whatever way she could and, although she hardly spoke a word to anyone, she could work better than most twice her age.

As well as Mildred, Kitty had hired a cleaning woman. A childless widow named Hetta Smith, who came in every day to clean, wash and iron. The obvious difference between Mildred and Hetta apart from age was noise. Mildred was not only quiet but also terribly shy whereas Hetta was loud, talkative and a gossip. Yet thankfully, the cleaning lady was a kind and generous soul too.

At the sound of the back door opening, Kitty left the room.

“It’s hot enough to fry an egg on the flags out there,” declared Hetta as she and Connie entered carrying groceries.

Kitty smiled at the sight of Hetta’s hot cheeks and picked up a tray of scones, but Connie’s pale face, by comparison, worried her.

Alice cut up a lemon and added it to a jug of cooled water. “In summer, I like spending Sundays down by the beck.”

Connie set down her basket and picked up the jug. “I’ll tekk it through to the counter.”

A moment later, a splintering crash and then a thud shattered the quietness of the rooms.

Kitty hurried into the tearoom and found Connie lying on the floor. “Connie!” She fell to her knees beside her stricken friend. “Dearest, speak to me.” She looked up at Hetta. “Tell Mary to run for a doctor!”

Kitty stroked Connie’s forehead. “Connie dear, can you hear me?” Connie slowly opened her eyes and focused on her. “Lie still, dear, the doctor has been sent for. You’ll be fine.”

“Lass… What’s wrong…with me?”

“We will soon find out and have you better again.”

Later, Kitty, Mary and Alice sat for an hour around the table in the backroom while Mildred and Hetta closed up the shop. Max, hurriedly sent for, waited upstairs for the doctor to finish his examination.

Kitty stood and paced the floor, her skirts swishing loudly in the quiet of the room. Impatient to hear of any news, she longed to rush upstairs to see Connie and speak to the doctor, but she knew Max wanted time alone with the doctor first.

“I’ll put the kettle on, Miss.” Alice brewed another pot of tea nobody drank.

Movement from the stairs stopped everyone as the doctor descended. Hetta and Mildred come in from cleaning the tearoom to hear.

Dread clogged Kitty’s throat. “What is the news, Doctor Myers?”

“Well, Miss McKenzie, it’s not what you would expect I think.” The doctor sighed and shrugged on his coat that Mary handed him “Mrs Spencer is with child. Nearly six months along I would say.”

“With child?” Shocked, Kitty stared at the man as though he had two heads. “She thought she was going through the change.”

“Why she should think that is beyond me. She has tiredness, fainting and enlargement around the waist, albeit not as much as she should and that is a cause for anxiety. Indeed, there are many causes for anxiety about Mrs Spencer’s confinement.” He swept his tired gaze around at the worried faces staring at him. “She has suffered many miscarriages in the past when she was much younger. To be honest with you all, and as I have already told Mr Spencer, I doubt she will carry this baby full term. If she does, I cannot guarantee that either she or the child surviving its birth.”

There was an audible intake of breath from everyone.

“Why is that then, Doctor?” Hetta asked, folding her arms over her enormous chest in a huff, her small brown eyes peering at him. “Our Mrs Spencer is a strong woman.”

“Her past history tells me this pregnancy is not what she should be having at this time of her life.” He picked up his bag from the floor.

“You talk as though she was in her dotage,” scorned Hetta.

“Hetta, please,” shushed Kitty.

The doctor turned to Kitty, ignoring the older woman’s outburst. “She must have complete bedrest, and with the bed-end raised at all times. Her bleeding must be controlled, or, well...you can imagine the consequences.”

“She will get the best possible care, Doctor,” Kitty put in quietly. “Surely that, and good food, will be all she needs. Nature will take care of the rest, won’t it?”

“Yes, nature will take care of the rest, Miss McKenzie, one way or another.”

Once the doctor left, Kitty climbed the staircase. This unexpected news threw her into turmoil.

Max was gently closing the bedroom door as she entered the sitting room. He enveloped Kitty in his arms. “Oh, lass. What are we t’do? She shouldn’t be havin’ any young’uns. She nearly died the last time. I couldn’t tekk it if somethin’ happened ter her.”

“Nothing is going to happen, Max, and don’t ever say anything like that again. I’ll take care of her and all will be well.” Dorothea’s words slipped out and Kitty swallowed her sudden tears. “At the end of it you will be a proud father of a beautiful little baby.”

“I pray that you’re right, our lass, I really do.” Max kissed her on the forehead, and then went downstairs and returned to work.

Kitty crept into Connie’s bedroom to sit quietly on a chair beside the bed. Connie looked pale but rested.

Kitty took her friend’s hand in her own. “How do you feel, dearest?”

“Better.”

“Good. I’ll go down and make you some tea.”

“Wait.” Connie gripped her hand as Kitty moved away.

“Did you speak ter the doctor?”

“Yes.” Kitty grinned. “So, we are to have a baby to spoil?”

Connie grimaced. “Don’t get too excited. The doctor said me chances are slim.”

“Well, we’ll prove him wrong, won’t we?”

“I’ve been through it all before, our lass. It doesn’t happen t’ be nice, believe me.” Connie sniffed. “I’m surprised I’ve gotten along as far as I have. Six months. ‘Tis a record for me.”

“Well, that is a good omen to begin with and you’re going to have the best of everything to see you through to a happy end.”

“Oh, lass.” Tears tripped over Connie’s lashes and ran down her cheeks.

“No! Stop it, Connie. No tears. Save them for tears of joy when you’re holding your little baby in a few months’ time. We must think positively about this, I mean it.” Kitty wagged a finger at her. “Sit still, I’ll go arrange some tea and a light meal.”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Kitty sat on a chair in the courtyard and watched Clara and Rosie feed the hens. The August heat warmed her body though her heart was as cold as ice. Joe had played truant again at school, but refused to discuss the subject that morning at breakfast before disappearing for the rest of the day. She wished Mr Tilsby, the postman, would bring her good news instead of notes from the school. She ached for word of Ben, but each day nothing arrived. Doubts and frustration fought a duel in her mind whenever she thought of him. Why had she received no more letters? Had he second thoughts now he was away leading an exciting life?

“Is Mrs Cannon coming this evening?” Clara asked, dusting crumbs off her hands.

“I thought she was, but it’s past her usual calling time. She may have visitors and it has slipped her mind.”

Mary ran out to them, her face white and her eyes wide. “Kitty! Kitty!”

“What is it?” She jerked to her feet. “Connie?”

“There is a policeman waiting to speak to you. He asked specifically for you.” Mary gasped. “Shall I bring him through? The customers are whispering amongst themselves.”

“Yes, yes bring him into the backroom.” Kitty fished for a coin in her pocket and pulled out a penny. “Clara, take Rosie to the sweet shop. Hold her hand and come straight back.” As soon as they stepped through the gate, Kitty straightened her hair and skirts. Taking a deep breath to still her panic, she went inside.

She nodded at Alice, who left the range and stood behind her for support. Together they faced the tall policeman who came into the backroom, removing his hat as he did so. Mary scuttled around to stand behind Kitty on her other side.

Please don’t let it be Rory or Martin.

“Miss McKenzie?” the policeman spoke directly to Kitty.

“Yes?” She looked him in the eye, bracing herself for bad news.

“My name is Constable Mike Bentley. I’ve been sent to inform you that your brother, Joseph, is in our cells. He was caught stealing.”

“No.” The blood drained from her face and her knees buckled. Alice’s arm slipped around Kitty’s waist in an effort to keep her upright. Mary cried into a handkerchief.

“You’ll need to come with me down to the station, Miss.”

He waited while Alice and Mary helped to find Kitty’s reticule and coat and quickly pinned on her hat. Hardly aware of what she was doing, Kitty remembered to whisper to Mary not to let Connie know so she wouldn’t worry, and then followed the constable out the back door.