One week later on a cold, drizzly day in late October the cart that Andre Chevalier had promised to send rolled up outside the cottage. For the next hour they were busy loading their possessions onto the back of it and then, after lifting little Joseph to sit beside Reuben, Nessie hurried away to say goodbye to Mrs Hewitt.
‘Eeh, luv, I shall miss yer,’ the kindly woman sniffed, wiping her eyes on the edge of her apron.
‘We shall miss you too,’ Nessie told her. ‘I don’t know what we’d have done without you since my mam …’
‘Don’t get thinkin’ about sad things today,’ the woman urged, catching her to her ample breasts in a fierce hug. ‘Think o’ this as a new beginnin’ and make sure you come an’ see us from time to time. An’ you just be sure to look after those fellas an’ all,’ she added with a tearful smile for Reuben and Joseph.
‘I will,’ Nessie promised, then after planting a kiss on her cheek she skipped out to the cart and clambered onto the back with the furniture.
The driver smiled and urged the horses on and Nessie looked behind her just once to wave to Mrs Hewitt. She felt no sadness at leaving the place. It held a lot of unhappy memories for her and she hoped, as Mrs Hewitt had said, that this might indeed be a change in their fortunes.
When they reached the town, the driver urged the horse through the large gates at the side of the funeral parlour and into the yard beyond. The two coal-black horses that pulled the glass-sided hearse were stabled there and they stuck their heads over the tops of their stalls to see what was going on.
‘This is it then, Joseph.’ Nessie smiled at her little brother as she lifted him down. ‘Your new home and I hope we’re all going to be really happy here.’
The child stared vacantly ahead, only a little sound escaping his lips, and once again Nessie felt a flutter of anxiety, but now wasn’t the time to go worrying about Joseph again. They had things to do.
The rear door opened and Mr Chevalier stepped outside.
‘Ah, you’re here. You will be wanting to get settled in to your rooms. I, er … got you a few provisions in case you hadn’t had time to shop. I hope they will be acceptable. I am afraid I am not too good at such things so I merely got the basics. I do hope you will not be offended?’
Offended? Nessie thought. Why, that was wonderful; they hadn’t had a decent meal in days so anything was going to be gratefully received.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ she told him as she followed him into their new home. There was a living room-cum-kitchen with a sink, and an oven at the side of a small inglenook fireplace where she could cook. Above that room were two bedrooms, one quite a decent size and one that was smaller, which would suit Reuben. She saw that he had also taken the trouble to light the fire, which made the grubby room look quite cosy, even on such a dull day and she was more grateful than she could express. There were tears glistening on her lashes as she glanced around, deciding where their furniture would go.
‘It is no trouble at all,’ he assured her. ‘So now I will leave you to get yourselves organised. Perhaps tomorrow I can show Reuben the workshop where he will make the coffins and you could perhaps start work in the shop and tidy my rooms, yes?’
‘Oh yes,’ she assured him.
With a little bow he took his leave and Nessie crossed to look at what was in the bags he had left on the draining board. There was a twist of tea and sugar along with a jug of fresh milk. Fresh fish from the fishmonger, a selection of fresh vegetables and some nice pork chops from the butcher as well as some apples and oranges. Nessie’s mouth watered at the sight of such a feast. She couldn’t remember the last time she had tasted an orange and thought how they would do Joseph the world of good.
Reuben’s ankle was greatly improved, although he was still unable to put his full weight on it and had to keep it tightly strapped, but all the same he and the man who had fetched them eventually had all the furniture stacked into the room. Nessie wished she could have given the man a tip, he had been so helpful, but she didn’t have so much as a ha’penny in her purse, so instead she thanked him profusely and he went on his way.
‘Right!’ Her eyes sparkled as she flung her shawl over the chair and rolled her sleeves up. ‘Let’s make this place into a home!’
After fetching water from the pump in the yard outside she began to scrub the windows and the floors while Reuben heaved the beds upstairs. It took him twice as long as it normally would but he managed it eventually. Nessie, meanwhile, dragged the horsehair sofa in front of the fire and settled Joseph down on it for a nap. She hung the curtains her mother had so lovingly stitched then began to place their mismatched china onto the dresser, and slowly, very slowly it began to look homely. When she was happy with downstairs she carried the bucket upstairs and did the same up there, and at last, as the afternoon darkened, everything was put away and the place gleamed from top to bottom.
‘It ain’t very big, is it,’ Reuben commented dismally when they finally stopped for a well-earned cup of tea. A pan of vegetables was bubbling above the fire and in the oven the fish was slowly poaching in milk.
‘No, I don’t suppose it is, but at least we won’t have to worry about paying rent and we’ll be earning,’ she pointed out. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, Reuben, so let’s just make the best of it, eh?’ Hearing the note of annoyance in her voice, he shrugged. He supposed she was right but he still felt hard done by. It seemed they’d had nothing but bad luck for the last couple of years and he wondered when it was going to end.
When Nessie came to dish the dinner up he noticed that she was laying out four plates and he raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m doing some for Mr Chevalier,’ she informed him in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘It’s the least I can do seeing it was him who supplied the food. Looking at how thin he is, I doubt he ever bothers to cook for himself.’
‘Suit yerself,’ he mumbled, slinking lower down in the armchair and glaring into the fire.
Nessie suddenly felt sorry for him. His work on the railway had been arduous but she knew that he’d loved being out in the fresh air. She wondered if she’d perhaps been a little hard on him and said gently, ‘Things will work out, you’ll see. Remember what Mam used to say, “Things always look better in the morning.”’
When she knocked on Mr Chevalier’s door some minutes later, he glanced down at the steaming plate of food in her hand in surprise. Over his shoulder on the table in his kitchen she could see a loaf of bread and a block of cheese and she guessed that this was probably what he had been about to have for his dinner.
‘Why I, er … please, come in. You really didn’t need to go to so much trouble.’ He held the door wide and Nessie quickly crossed to the table and put the plate down.
‘It’s no trouble at all to cook for an extra one when I’m cooking for us anyway,’ she assured him. ‘I hope you enjoy it.’ She left him quickly, smiling as she glanced back through the door to see him hurrying to fetch a knife and fork. Poor chap, she thought, I bet he doesn’t bother with a hot meal very often.
Despite being in a new home, Nessie slept well that night and the next morning she got up in an optimistic frame of mind. Marcie had a job, one she could do well in if she tried, and now she and Reuben were set up too. They might even be able to afford a doctor to look at Joseph soon, but not until she’d paid Seth Grimshaw what they owed him. Nessie always kept her word and that would be her priority.
After breakfast, she reported to her new boss who was going over some figures in a large ledger in the reception room of the funeral parlour. It was the first place people saw when they came to book his services and she thought how dismal it was.
‘Reuben said to tell you he’ll go through to the workshop with you whenever you’re ready,’ she informed him brightly. ‘And while you’re showing him what you want him to do, I thought perhaps I could start cleaning in here and fetch you if anyone comes needing your services … I will have to bring Joseph through with me, though, but he’ll sit quietly on the chair,’ she ended almost apologetically.
He raised a questioning eyebrow. He’d had very little experience of young children but he’d never seen a little one who could sit still for more than two minutes at a time. The ones he had seen were all over the place and into everything.
‘But will he not get bored?’
‘Oh no.’ She twisted her hands nervously. ‘Joseph is … a quiet child.’
‘I see, then if you are sure you can manage I shall go and instruct Reuben.’
Minutes later, Nessie had assembled everything she would need to give the place a thorough spring clean and Joseph was sitting as still as a statue, just as she’d said he would. She began with the floors, getting down on her hands and knees and scrubbing into all the nooks and crannies. Occasionally she disturbed a spider and almost leapt into the air when it scurried away. Again and again she carried the filthy water out to the yard and replaced it with clean but at last, after her third attempt, she could see the pattern on the floor tiles, and very nice they were too, she thought. Next, she unhooked the heavy velvet curtain from the window, sneezing as a shower of dust got up her nose. That would need a good wash too and she dreaded to think how long it would take to dry. It would be no use hanging it in the yard. The weather was damp and miserable and getting colder by the day. She would have to rig up a line in their kitchen and let it dry in the heat from the fire. It was a deep purple colour and despite the filth she couldn’t stop herself from stroking the lush fabric, imagining how beautiful it would look when it was clean and fresh. She tackled the windows next and when Mr Chevalier returned just as she was finishing she glimpsed the surprise on his face as he looked around.
‘Dieu moi!’ he exclaimed, slipping easily back into his native language. Then remembering himself, he hurried on, ‘Excuse me, please, I meant to say goodness me! What a difference you have made to the place in such a short time.’
It didn’t feel like a short time to Nessie. Her dress was soiled from where the water on the filthy floor had soaked through her apron and there was a smudge of dirt on her nose.
Even so she grinned. ‘It’s surprising what a bit of elbow grease will do. I’ve just got the desk and the furniture to polish now and then I’ll start on your living quarters. But before I do … may I suggest something?’
He nodded so she hurried on, ‘I was thinking that it might be nice to keep a vase of fresh flowers on that table over there by the window. It’s traditional for people to bring flowers to a funeral so it might be nice for the people who require your services to see some in here. It needn’t cost that much if we bought them from the flower stall on the market. And perhaps a nice mirror on the wall over there? It would brighten the place up.’
She watched him looking about, his face solemn and held her breath. Oh dear, I shouldn’t have interfered, she reflected.
‘I, er … I’m so sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I wasn’t trying to interfe—’
‘What sort of a mirror?’
She gulped and wiped her grubby hands down the sides of her skirt. ‘Well, perhaps a nice big one to reflect the light in a mahogany frame to match the desk?’
He tapped his chin with his forefinger as he stared at the wall, trying to picture it in his mind, then nodded. ‘Yes, I think perhaps you are right,’ he agreed, much to her relief. ‘And perhaps when you have a little spare time you could go and choose some flowers and a vase?’
‘I’d be happy to.’ She started to rub beeswax polish into his desk as if her life depended on it and when next she glanced up he had disappeared into his living quarters.
When the furniture was gleaming in the light that streamed through the freshly washed window, she took the curtain outside and put it to soak in the tin bath they had brought with them from their old home. It was far too big to fit into a bucket and she was horrified to see the way the water changed colour to a sludgy brown when she immersed it. It was almost lunchtime, and she wondered where the time had gone as she hurried back inside to collect Joseph and returned to her own kitchen to prepare something light for lunch.
Reuben came in when she was halfway through carving a loaf of bread and she looked at him questioningly. ‘So, how’s it going then?’
He sniffed. ‘All right, I suppose. Although I have to admit I never realised there was such a choice of woods for coffins. It seems pine is the most used here because that’s the cheapest. Then there’s all the handles: rope for the cheapest ones right up to solid brass and bronze. You can get lead-lined coffins an’ all, but they’re custom-made in London and the boss said he don’t get much call for them. It’s only the toffs as can afford ’em.’
‘I can quite believe it, but I’m sure he’d get more trade if he spruced the place up a bit and made the shop look a little more salubrious. I’ve already made a few suggestions.’
‘Bein’ French wouldn’t help him either,’ Reuben agreed. ‘The folks round here take a while to get used to somebody from foreign parts.’
Nessie giggled. ‘I don’t think it’s that; he’s been here for some years already,’ she pointed out. ‘But do you think you’ll manage?’
‘It’s quite easy.’ Reuben laughed. ‘But how are you gettin’ on. You look like you’ve done a shift down the pit!’
Glancing down at her dirty apron and skirt, she shrugged. ‘Well, the whole place is so dirty I’m just having to scrub everything. Wait till you see the shop area, it looks different already and when I get the curtain back up and put some fresh flowers in there it’ll look better still.’ She placed a plate full of sandwiches in front of Reuben then began to break little pieces off another slice to feed to Joseph. He opened and shut his mouth but made no attempt to feed himself and Nessie sighed with concern.
‘Is it all right if I start the cleaning in your living quarters now?’ she asked Mr Chevalier after lunch, but before he had time to reply the door opened and a middle-aged woman appeared, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Nessie discreetly stood to one side as Mr Chevalier rose to greet her.
‘Good afternoon, madam, may I help you?’
The woman sniffed and taking a grubby handkerchief from her pocket she mopped at her eyes, which were streaming tears again.
‘It’s me husband … He’s died an’ I need to arrange his funeral.’
‘Very well,’ Mr Chevalier said matter-of-factly. ‘What sort of funeral did you have in mind?’
‘Well … it all depends how much it’s gonna cost,’ she spluttered. ‘I ain’t got much money, see? An’ there’ll be nowt comin’ in now he’s gone.’
Mr Chevalier placed a large brochure on the counter with the various styles of coffins and headstones available and when she looked at the prices she gasped with dismay.
‘But I can’t afford these,’ she choked. ‘Not even the cheapest one.’
Nessie had the urge to take the poor soul in her arms and offer words of comfort to her but not wishing to interfere she forced herself to remain silent. Then taking up her bucket and her rags she hurried into Mr Chevalier’s living room and closed the door firmly behind her. She wasn’t at all impressed with the way he had handled a prospective client and thought it was no wonder that people chose to go to the other undertaker, but she couldn’t say that, of course. Minutes later she heard the shop door close again and guessed, rightly, that the woman had left. She was down on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor when Mr Chevalier came to join her looking crestfallen.
‘That’s another customer lost,’ he commented with a frown. ‘But surely they can’t expect me to offer my services for free?’
Nessie sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She had come up with an idea that just might work but wasn’t sure if she should suggest it. Would he think she was interfering?
‘Do you lose a lot of customers because of cost?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Oh yes, most of the people who come here have barely got two ha’pennies to put together. I do make exceptions for children, though. If one dies I take them and put them into the coffin of the next paying customer and just charge their parents a penny.’
Nessie was horrified. ‘So the parents never know where their child’s final resting place is?’ she asked in disbelief.
‘I’m afraid not but at least they get the comfort of knowing they will be buried in hallowed ground.’ He shrugged. ‘I think that’s better than having to have them put in a pauper’s grave, don’t you?’
Nessie went back to what she was doing, too appalled to answer. From what she could see, a lot of changes needed to be made here but she felt it was too soon to suggest them.