The letters and leaflets to the draper’s customers were printed and sent and money started to come in, slowly at first and then in a steady flow, even from those notorious for delay. Annie had suggested that they sent an enthusiastic account of the new cloths and materials due in from the manufacturing towns in the West Riding and the Brussels lace and silks expected from the Continent.
Already, ladies started to appear, anxious to be the first to buy and to put in their orders with the dressmakers. Annie visited some of these busy sewing women, and persuaded them that if they recommended Mr Sampson’s establishment to their ladies, then there would be a considerable saving to themselves in their purchase of needle pins, sewing cottons and ribbons. ‘We can help each other,’ she explained. ‘These are hard times.’
A tall, stooped gentleman, a beaver hat on his greying hair, came in to the shop one day and asked, ‘Mrs Hope?’
‘Yes sir.’ She bobbed her knee. ‘Can I assist you?’
‘I wished to speak to Mr Sampson, but I have just this moment seen him hurrying across the street. Perhaps you would permit me to wait?’
She brought him a chair to sit on and then busied herself making up stock and straightening the rolls of cloth. He looked vaguely familiar and she thought that he had been in the shop at some other time. Perhaps he was the husband of a client, come to discuss his wife’s spending.
‘You keep busy, Mrs Hope, you obviously enjoy your work here?’
‘Yes indeed. Mr Sampson is a good employer and the work is interesting. I love handling cloth.’ She looked at him quizzically. ‘If you’ll beg my pardon, sir; you know my name, but I regret I can’t recall yours, perhaps your wife is a client of ours?’
‘Not at all. I have no wife. I’m a bachelor; always have been, always will. I have no small talk for ladies, they find me very dull.’
He rose to his feet. ‘Forgive me for hot introducing myself, another reason for my not marrying, I forget the niceties when speaking to the fairer sex.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Where was I? I was going to say something.’
She gave him a broad smile. ‘You were about to tell me your name, sir.’
‘Ah yes, of course. Marcus Blythe, of Blythe and Green, solicitors of law, though there is no Green any more, no, just myself and then nobody. It’s a pity, don’t you think, when there’s no line to carry on a profession or business that’s been worked for?’
‘But you choose surely, sir, to indulge in a business or a profession for your own satisfaction, not just for the pleasure of handing it on; and perhaps a son or other relative may not have the same gratification or sense of achievement that the originator had.’
‘My word, I believe you’re right. You’re a thinking woman, I can tell. Not one to sit around gossiping about the theatre and the latest novels and such!’
Her smile faded, she felt exposed and vulnerable. Was he laughing at her? He could surely tell what kind of woman she was? Why else would she be working for a living? It was pure luck on her part that she was nicely dressed and employed in a shop and not working as a drudge in a big house, or washing clothes in the wash-house, or even, as she had once done, sorting fish in the fish-houses.
But she spoke politely in answer. ‘I might well gossip about the theatre, given the opportunity, and I’d like to read, given the time, but my hours are taken with my work and my small son, so there’s little chance and certainly no money to do either of those things.’
‘Ah.’ He appeared a little confused. ‘Of course, I was forgetting. You have a son. Henry, isn’t it? Yes, indeed. Mr Sampson has spoken of him, he’s quite taken with him. Children never did appeal to me, I fear.’ He walked up and down the shop, swinging his cane. ‘Never felt the urge to beget them. The ones I know have generally been noisy and a veritable nuisance. But I expect yours isn’t? Mothers are usually very indulgent.’
What a strange man, she thought; and why should Aaron discuss Henry with his lawyer?
When Aaron came back he ushered Mr Blythe into his sanctum at the back of the shop and closed the door. Annie shrugged and got on with serving two ladies who came in, but she could hear Mr Blythe’s voice quite clearly. ‘I quite agree,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you wish, but it may well kill you off dear fellow; mark my words, if you’re here to remember them, at your time of life it can’t be good.’
At the end of the day, Aaron sent Polly off and locking the door behind her, he pulled down the blind. ‘Another day over, Annie. I feel quite tired, I must say. The days seem to be getting longer.’
‘You ought to take more rest, Aaron. It’s too much for you standing on your feet all day.’ She surveyed him thoughtfully. ‘Could you afford more staff? An apprentice perhaps? It would be a good idea, you know. A young man could handle the heavy fabrics and lift down the bales and so save you the effort.’
Annie was strong and often lifted the bales of cloth herself rather than ask Mr Sampson, but if he was there, then he would insist on lifting them himself and she had noticed recently how taxing it was for him.
‘Perhaps I might consider it,’ he said. ‘I have been slightly unwell lately, not quite myself.’ He coughed, putting his hand to his mouth. ‘That is why, Annie, Mr Blythe called. I have consulted him in his chambers, but being the man he is, he wanted to see the erm – that is, he wanted to visit the shop to see who, erm I mean, how, we conduct our business.’
‘Surely he knew that already? I remember you saying that you had had the same family lawyer for years!’
‘Ah, yes, but you see, things are different now.’ He nodded enthusiastically. ‘Improving, I might even say, especially under your organization. So – erm, I needed his advice about something rather important.’
Annie nodded. ‘I see,’ and turned away.
‘No, don’t go, Annie, I need to talk to you. This does concern you – and Henry.’
She turned back in some surprise, his face was flushed and he fingered the stiffened stock around his neck.
‘As you know, my sister and her son have been hankering after joining me in this business, and I know my weaknesses only too well. They would soon be taking over, lock, stock and barrel.’
‘I said, didn’t I, that you were too soft-hearted,’ Annie interrupted. ‘Your wife wouldn’t have let them get away with anything, I’ll be bound.’
‘Indeed she wouldn’t, not her.’ He took a deep breath, ‘and neither would you Annie, would you, if you were in charge?’
She laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have them over the doorstep, Mr Sampson, even though they are your relatives.’
‘Exactly. So Annie, what about it? Will you join me here and make a partnership – a proper one I mean – oh dear, I’m not doing this very well and I’ve been rehearsing what to say for weeks. I mean my dear, will you become the next Mrs Sampson?’
Annie drew in a breath, for once she was lost for words.
‘I wouldn’t expect – what I mean is – I’m an old man, you wouldn’t be afraid that I’d force you to do anything that was disagreable to you. Women, I know have much to put up with; although my wife never complained, but I’m older now and couldn’t—.’ He paused, his cheeks pink. ‘But in any case even if you didn’t want to – marry, I mean, I still intend to leave the business to you and Henry, when I’m gone.’
Annie sank down onto a chair quite bewildered. That Aaron Sampson was fond of her and Henry had always been apparent. He had been so kind, especially during those first few weeks when she had felt lost and lonely in a strange city, endeavouring to put on a brave face and manner as she faced the customers in the shop, yet feeling that her life no longer had any meaning.
Not until she had felt the child stir within her had she realized that she did have some reminder of Matt, someone she could love and who would love her in return. Aaron had seemed to sense the turmoil she was going through and had been patient and understanding. He would make a good husband and father to Henry if she should consider it. She’d want for nothing, and the business would be hers, hers and Henry’s to do with as they wished.
‘Aaron,’ she began. ‘I’m proud to have your regard and affection, and you know, don’t you, that you have mine in return?’
He nodded, his face lighting up eagerly.
‘But, you also know that I love Henry’s father. How can you ask me to marry you knowing that?’
‘My dear girl, you are still so innocent, in spite of the life you have led.’ He took her hand in a fatherly fashion. ‘Don’t you know that in most marriages there is no love? Even in my own, which lasted many years, we married because we made a suitable arrangement satisfactory to both parties – we came to care for each other but only over time, we became comfortable together.’
‘I’ve been married once,’ she said dully as she remembered her life with Alan. ‘But that was like some other life. There was no love there or comfort.’
‘I’m not asking for an answer now,’ he said patiently. ‘But will you think about it?’
She squeezed his hand. ‘You’re a dear man. Yes, I’ll think about it.’
Yet the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she couldn’t marry him. She considered him more as a father-figure – the father she might have wished for – rather than a husband. But if I don’t marry him, then he might change his mind about leaving the business to Henry and me, she thought. And then when he’s gone, God willing it won’t be for a long time, then Henry and I must move on again.
In her own room she bent her head and wept a few tears. She could survive alone, she didn’t care how, but for Henry she wanted a good life, she didn’t want to risk losing him in poverty and hardship the way she had lost Lizzie and Ted and Jimmy.
‘I’ve had an idea, Aaron.’ She ran down the stairs from her room one morning about two weeks later. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all night.’
‘Have you made a decision then,’ he asked quietly. He hadn’t pressed her for an answer to his proposal but had bided his time.
‘Not yet, but I promise I will soon, very soon. But hear what I have to say. We discussed didn’t we, that it would be an idea to get an apprentice to help in the shop?’
‘Yes, yes, but I haven’t liked any of them that came for an interview. Either too rough with scratchy hands or too foppish to attend the customers, let alone lift the bales.’
‘Well,’ she said excitedly. ‘It came to me during the night, I couldn’t sleep and I got thinking, you know the way you do during the dark hours.’ When the night seems never ending and all you can do is weep for what you have lost, she thought.
‘But I started to think about someone I knew, someone who knows about cloth and who knows how to talk to women, and to ladies too if he’d known any. His hands may be rough now,’ she added as she thought that Robin might have gone back to the quarry, ‘but we can soon do something about that with creams and lotions.’
‘Then you’d better send for him,’ Aaron said. ‘I trust your judgement. We’ll need someone soon, now that we have all this fabric coming in.’
Day by day shipments of fabric were arriving, down through the Aire and Calder waterways, and along the Ouse to arrive in York. Cargoes of soap and perfume, casks of porter and Jamaica rum, brandies and geneva were snatched up on arrival by the shopkeepers as the war with France made these commodities rare.
‘I can’t send for him,’ she explained. ‘He can’t read. We’d have to teach him when he got here.’
‘How do you know he’d be willing to come? He might be doing some other work that he can’t leave. Could you persuade him?’
‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I think I could. But how to find him and get him here, that’s the problem.’
‘Why, you must go, of course. Go to where you last saw him and talk to him.’
She stared at him. Go! To Hessle! Risk seeing Matt’s ship in the Humber and know that he was there, breathing the same air as she was. She became breathless as she thought of it, and yet, the thought excited her, to know that he was still living and breathing, to catch one glimpse of him perhaps for the last time. And if he wasn’t there, well then she could enquire of Robin or Josh and ask news of him, and swear them on their honour to secrecy.
‘I haven’t got my donkey, how will I go?’ She searched for excuses.
‘Bless my soul, we can afford the coach. We can charge it to business. Let me see now,’ Aaron ruminated as Annie continued to stare bemused. She’d been in a coach only once, when she had gone with Matt to the fancy dress ball, that wonderful night when Henry had been conceived, she’d worked it back from his birth, it had to have been then.
‘You’ll have to get the coach to Hull, and then I’m not sure what you’ll do. Will there be transport to this place Hessle?’
She smiled. ‘My own two legs or I’ll hire a mare.’ She nodded at the look of surprise on his face. ‘I can do either.’
They arranged that she should go the following week, before they began to get busy with the autumn custom, Mrs Cook agreed to come in each day while Annie was away and Aaron booked her a twelve-shilling seat for the seven hour journey, on the inside of the Hull light coach. At the last minute she decided to take Henry with her rather than leave him to the precarious protection of the well-meaning Polly.
I’ll show him the Humber, she thought, and the town of Hull where I was born. He’s so young and he’ll no doubt forget by the time he’s a grown man, but at least I’ll know that I showed him my beginnings. She had great aspirations for Henry, now that she had almost made a decision about marrying Mr Sampson.
As the horses pulled away and they waved a final goodbye to Aaron Sampson, she sat back against the seat and breathed in the smell of leather and remembered. How many memories I have, she thought. What a life I have led; from poverty to a lost love, and now riding in a coach back to Hull and my past.