‘AYE. YOU’VE A sound spot, here, lasses.’ Widow Jessop nodded appreciatively. ‘Daniel did well.’
Laura and Lizzie exchanged an excited smile. They had risen early and walked with the old woman to work to see what was soon to be their new stall at Smithfield Market.
‘Eeh, I can’t wait!’ Lizzie trilled, and a grinning Laura clasped her arm in agreement.
Widow Jessop was right: it was in a prime location and decent-sized into the bargain. How Daniel had managed to arrange this, they didn’t know; though he had hinted about a friend owing him a favour. To be honest, Laura didn’t care, was just grateful beyond anything she could put into words for all he was doing for them. Their own business!
She and Lizzie had spent the previous day hunting for new but cheap baking utensils, cake boxes and boards. Standing outside one high-end shop, they had gazed in wonderment at the new-fangled devices in the window, the sign proclaiming that such labour-saving inventions were a boon that ‘kitchen staff in the best establishments’ couldn’t do without. But of course, they must – the eye-popping prices were way off their budget.
‘Maybe one day,’ Lizzie had breathed dreamily, pressing her nose to the sparkling panes. And Laura had wholeheartedly concurred. Who could say where this venture would take them and what the future held?
For the briefest moment as they walked away she’d found herself wondering about the stolen money the Cannock brothers had been hunting for, where Adam might have hidden it and what she and Lizzie could do with such a sum. But the musings were quickly scattered from her mind, along with the terrible memories associated with it, and she endeavoured not to dwell on such things again.
One thing Lizzie refused to scrimp on was ingredients. Only the highest class of butter, the freshest eggs and the best grade of flour would do, she insisted, as it made all the difference to the finish and taste. Now, after bidding Widow Jessop goodbye, they headed off to purchase what was required.
‘Refined white sugar for the frosting we need, as well,’ Lizzie puffed some time later, moving her laden basket to her other arm to give the aching one a rest. ‘And fruit – good quality, mind. None of the bruised or, God forbid, worm-riddled rubbish some like to try and palm off on to folk.’
Next, they bought colourings and flavourings to add to the mixes, as well as candied peel and nuts for decoration to tempt the customers’ fancy. They also selected an assortment of knives and skewers with differing widths and tips for Laura to use in creating her designs. Finally, tired but happy, they headed back to the court for a well-earned slice of bread and dripping and a cup of tea.
The following day was taken up with sifting and beating and whisking, trying out different recipes and practising unique patterns in Laura’s kitchen. And two days later they were once again up with the larks for the start of their brand-new job.
Almond and English plum cakes, meringues, sponge and pound cakes, and thick gingerbread, amongst others, were packed carefully into wooden crates and piled on to the back of the cart. Mr Howarth had agreed to them using Kenneth to transport their stock each morning, so long as they had him back in time for his first coal round, which Laura had promised to do. Hearts hammering in nervous anticipation but with faces stretched in eager grins, they set off at a steady pace for the market.
Recalling the cake seller Laura had encountered here before – and using her failings as a guide of what not to do themselves – they took their time in arranging their wares.
Their conscientiousness made all the difference: the stall looked magnificent. The delicious smells and eye-catching designs immediately caught people’s attention. Within seconds, half a dozen women had flocked across. Then came the moment she and Lizzie had been waiting for: they made their first sale. Laura had tears in her eyes as she watched the happy customer walk away.
‘We did it, lass,’ she whispered to an equally emotional-looking Lizzie.
By late morning, they had completely sold out. The jangle of coins in their pockets was a wonderful sound.
Frank Higson, a man in his late twenties who ran the next stall, was suitably impressed. ‘You’ve done gradely, girls, just gradely,’ he told them, his gaze lingering on Lizzie, as it had all day.
They really had done good, Laura thought with warm accomplishment on the journey home. Nathan’s handsome face came to her mind and she smiled softly. What would he have made of all this? He hadn’t exactly been accepting of the idea, had he? Yet, somehow, she imagined, if he could see her now, he’d have been proud.
After hearing how their day had gone and congratulating them on their success, Daniel drew Laura to one side. He seemed agitated and she felt her stomach flip in dread. Surely nothing could go wrong again, not now, when things were at last looking up?
‘I need to speak to thee.’
‘What about?’ she had to force herself to ask.
He glanced across to Lizzie, resting her aching feet by Laura’s hearth, and shook his head. ‘Not now. I’ll slip across later tonight.’
For the rest of the evening, Laura was on pins. His knock finally came and she let him in him, bombarding him with questions the moment she shut the door: ‘Well? What is it, what’s afoot? Is it summat to do with the Cannock brothers? Have we been caught out? For you see, I’ve been fretting about the knife and laudanum bottle and my cap that we left behind. Have they somehow traced them back to us?’
‘Nay, there’s no way. As far as anyone knows, them items could be the brothers’ own property. Put thoughts of that from your mind.’
‘It’s not your mam, is it? She’s not poorly? You, you’re not sick, are yer? Or is it summat to do with the stall?’
‘Nay, none of that.’
‘Then what, lad?’
‘It’s your uncle.’
Her brows drew together in a frown. ‘Oh. What about him?’
‘I said, didn’t I, that I’d keep an ear to the ground concerning him. Well, I’ve learned summat the day. He’s in debt. Badly.’
She lowered herself into a chair. ‘Aye?’
‘Underhand dealings, bad investments, overspending – he’s neck deep in the lot. Add to the list a raging gambling habit and it don’t paint a pretty picture, does it?’
Laura was stunned. ‘How d’you know all this?’
‘Let’s just say he suffers from one hell of a loose tongue when filled with drink.’
She nodded. She was well aware of that, all right. ‘Spouting his business in the inns and taverns, was he?’
‘That’s right. Bloke I know were telling me today.’
‘I can’t believe it. He allus comes across as comfortably off.’
‘A rich man’s tastes with a poor man’s pockets, by all accounts.’
‘Come to think of it,’ she said, eyes thoughtful, ‘he was hardly ever at the yard. He was forever disappearing to some meeting or other – or so he said.’
‘Gambling dens, more like. You never noticed owt untoward when you worked in t’ office? No incriminating documents, things like that?’
‘Nay. My duties were mainly sorting papers by date – anyroad, I’m not a strong reader,’ she admitted.
‘He’s set to lose the business, you know, in time. Maybe the house, an’ all.’
‘No! Really? It’s that bad?’
Daniel nodded. ‘He’s borrowing left, right and centre to stay afloat, but it’ll not last. So there you have it. You know what this means, don’t you? You’ll have the last laugh, all right. He’s made sure he’ll get what’s coming to him all on his own without you needing to lift a finger.’
‘Aye. I suppose he has.’
Going over what she’d discovered in bed later, Laura was still struggling to process it. Ambrose Todd penniless. Those words just didn’t fit right together in the same sentence. However, the most surprising thing of all was she didn’t know how she felt about it. He’d wronged her in so many ways, caused her untold misery, and yet now … Now, she just couldn’t seem to care.
But that didn’t make sense, did it? There had been times when her very essence had ached for his downfall. When she’d have done anything to have him suffer for everything he’d done, see he got his comeuppance. And soon, she would. She’d bested him. So why was she so indifferent?
The answer was quick to come.
She’d had enough of being bitter. Revenge was an ugly thing. Soul-destroying, and with the potential to be deadly. Certainly, she’d found that out to her cost. She was simply bone-weary of hating. It caused nothing in the long run but misery to the one who harboured it, left you locked in its black and inescapable hold.
She wanted only to continue moving forward. She was done with all that had gone before.
What a day it had been, she thought as she drifted to sleep. Her success paired with her uncle’s defeat. By, but it was a funny old world at times.
As the weeks rolled by the business went from strength to strength. Not only had they begun to build up regular customers, but the buyers had told their friends, who in turn told others, and soon Laura was having to lend Lizzie a hand in the preparation of the cakes in order to fulfil demand. Not that they were complaining, oh no. Things were going better than either of them could ever have envisaged and they thanked God for it in their prayers every night.
One chilly morning at the beginning of February, they were busy as always at the stall, selling to and chatting with customers, when the strongest wave of nausea washed through Laura out of nowhere.
Occupied with rearranging gingerbreads, she paused with a frown and slapped a hand to her mouth. Within seconds, the sensation had gone. Shrugging, she thought no more of it and continued with what she’d been doing.
However, minutes later, the same thing happened again – this time, she was forced to dash to a corner behind the stall to be violently sick.
‘You all right, love?’ asked a concerned Lizzie when Laura returned to her side, pale and shaking.
‘It must be summat I’ve ate.’
‘I can manage here if you want to get off home?’
‘And I’m here to lend the lass a helping hand,’ Frank called across from his own stall, receiving a shy smile of thanks from Lizzie in return.
But Laura shook her head. ‘Ta, but nay. I feel much better now, honest.’
And yet she was mistaken – the queasiness lingered for the remainder of the morning, though she kept quiet so as not to create a fuss.
By the day’s end, Laura was utterly exhausted. On the walk home she turned to Lizzie with a grimace. ‘I think I am poorly, after all,’ she was finally forced to admit.
‘Eeh, love. You’re to take the day off the morrow. I insist.’
Too weary to argue, she nodded. ‘You will manage?’
‘Aye, I should be fine. Anyroad, Frank’s there if I need him.’
She gave her a sidelong glance. ‘He’s nice, Frank, in’t he?’
‘Oh aye,’ agreed Lizzie. Again, the little smile from earlier touched her lips. ‘Aye, he’s all right.’
Laura was sure he’d say the same about her friend, too. He hung around their stall more than his own these days, and all the while could barely tear his eyes from Lizzie. That he’d taken an instant shine to the sunny-natured girl was as clear as the nose on your face – a fact that surely couldn’t have gone unnoticed by Lizzie herself?
‘Frank’s mam’s Irish as well, you know?’ she was saying now as they neared Ebenezer Court, though Laura was barely listening; the rolling in her guts was back and it took all her focus not to heave up her lunch at the roadside.
‘Oh?’
‘And his father passed away when he were but a kiddy, an’ all, like mine. Siblings aplenty, he also has, too. ’Ere, and you’ll never guess what else—’
‘Sounds like you’ve a lot in common, lass,’ Laura interjected, desperate to bring the conversation to a close – she was definitely going to vomit again. ‘Sorry, Lizzie, but I must go and lie down.’
‘Eeh, you’re a shocking colour. Are you sure you’re all right?’
Mumbling assurances that she was, that a nap would set her right, Laura hurried across the cobbles for home.
She headed straight upstairs. Crawling into bed – shawl, clogs and all – she immediately fell fast asleep.
She awoke to children’s voices filtering through from the yard below and for a good half a minute hadn’t a clue what she was doing here or why. Then remembrance drifted back and she smiled. At least she felt better; great, in fact. That little rest had done her the power of good – and a short one it must have been, she thought, for the sky beyond the window still held some daylight.
With a stretch and a yawn, she rose and headed down to the kitchen. She made herself tea and went to stand on the front step for some air. She was smiling, watching Bee O’Brien’s giggling offspring playing a spirited game of tag, when their mother appeared at her own door.
‘Hello, Laura. Sorry if this lot woke ye.’
‘Nay, not at all.’
‘Our Lizzie said you were taken unwell. You’re feeling more yourself, now?’
She took a sip of her brew. ‘Aye, much better.’
‘That’s grand to hear. And you’re not to worry over the stall – it’s in safe hands with Lizzie.’
‘Oh, I’ll be well enough for work the morrow after all. Will tha let her know, please?’
Bee blinked in mild amusement. ‘Tomorrow’s already here, lass, and Lizzie’s away at the market.’
‘What? But it can’t …’ It was then Laura noticed properly the small expanse of sky visible between the rooftops. It wasn’t one of late afternoon, as she’d assumed, at all, but that of early morning. She shook her head. ‘I dreamed right through to a new day?’
‘Ye did. Aye, you must have needed it!’
‘I suppose I did.’ She must have been sicker than she’d thought. ‘I’ve never afore slept as long as that.’
The older woman had been chuckling, but it suddenly petered out. Her eyes creased with empathy and she bit her lip. ‘Laura? You couldn’t be …?’
‘What, Bee?’
‘Well, you know.’ She motioned to Laura’s midriff.
It was like an invisible pail of icy water had been emptied in her face – she sucked in an almighty gasp. ‘My God …’
The sickness, exhaustion. The lack of monthly bleed, which she hadn’t realised until now that she’d missed, what with all that had been going on. It was clear as crystal – how had she not seen it? This couldn’t be happening. Just what was she going to do?
‘Laura? Are ye all right?’ Bee came across and put her arm around her. ‘It’s a lot to take in, I know.’
‘My husband dead, no mother to help me … I feel so alone and so very, very afraid. How will I manage – how?’
‘Ay, lass. Have I to fetch Joyce?’
Of course. Her sensible, straight-talking mother-in-law would know what to do. ‘Aye, please do.’
When Bee returned with Joyce minutes later Laura was standing anxiously by the fireplace wringing her hands. At the woman’s concerned expression, tears immediately sprang to her eyes. ‘Oh, Joyce …’
‘What, lass? What is it, what’s to do?’
‘I’ve summat to tell thee. Please sit down.’ She did, and Laura sat facing her. ‘I think I’m … I’m with child. I’m having Nathan’s babby.’
‘Oh my …’ Joyce shook her head. Then she was on her feet, her astounded laughter following her around the room as she performed an overjoyed jig. ‘Oh, tha don’t know what this means, how happy you’ve made me! Oh, my bonny, bonny lass! Come here.’ She pulled her to her feet and held her with such warmth and care it made Laura want to weep with the relief of it. Which she did. Then Bee joined them in their embrace and, as they cried and laughed together, Laura knew she could do this.
She wasn’t on her own, nor could she ever be, so long as she had her new family, her friends. Her child would never be wanting in attention and love.
Her child. Laura’s heart tripped at those two little words. She was going to be a mother! And by God, she’d make sure she made the best job of it that was humanly possible. That Nathan wouldn’t get to see his baby and experience the privilege of parenthood tore at her like a physical pain, but she would love this child enough for the both of them. And she’d endeavour to see that he or she never forgot him. Oh, lad, how I miss thee …
‘Our Daniel will be fair overcome when he learns of this,’ Joyce said, breaking through Laura’s thoughts. ‘A little piece of his brother still with us … Eeh, I can hardly believe it.’
She struggled to raise a smile. It felt wrong even to hear his name mentioned right now. This was her and Nathan’s moment. Mother and father. Husband and wife. Daniel had been the secret third party, with them in the background from the outset, it was true. But not now. Not with this.
Never again, for that time had passed, and the past was where it belonged. This miracle life was her future now.