A Loving Family Page 27

  ‘You’re a good girl, Stella. I don’t deserve you.’ Jacinta gave her a hug. ‘Now, I’m going to bed and so must you. We have a busy day tomorrow.’ She left the room, taking a chamber candlestick to light her way.

  Stella glanced up at the clock. It was past midnight, but she was wide awake. Even if she went to bed she would lie there in the dark thinking of Kit and of the huge burden she had taken on in order to keep her family together. She knew she would not sleep and acting on a sudden impulse she put on her bonnet and shawl.

  She hurried along Artillery Street, avoiding the pools of hazy yellow light created by the flickering gas lamps and keeping to the shadows. The narrow entrances to courts and alleyways gaped at her like open mouths ready to swallow up unwary passers-by should they stray off course. Opium dens and brothels lurked in their inky depths and fear prowled the streets like a hungry beast, but Stella had a set purpose and she was unafraid. She ignored propositions from drunken men as they lurched out of the pubs, and the jeers from prostitutes lingering in doorways who seemed to think that she was encroaching on their territory, and she reached the shop premises without mishap. She let herself in and locked the door behind her.

  The range had been lit for the first time that day and the newly installed kitchen was surprisingly warm and welcoming. She put a match to the gas lights and stood for a moment, looking round with an appreciative smile. This was her domain from now on. The ghosts of the dead had passed through these portals but had not lingered, and there was nothing left of Ronald Clifford’s domineering personality to dampen her enthusiasm. She hoped that his spirit had also passed on to a better place, and she experienced a feeling of peace as she set about her task. She was making a cake to the same recipe as the one that had been stolen from her all those years ago. It was only right and proper, she thought, that the first thing she baked in her new oven was a replica of the cake that had been a gift for her mother.

  The first light of dawn was shredding the night sky when Stella walked home with the still warm cake wrapped in butter muslin. The night people had vanished into the shadows and workers on early shifts were trudging, still half asleep, on their way to the manufactories and the railway yard. Stella let herself into the house and went straight to the kitchen, where she unwrapped the cake and put it on a china plate. She had dozed in the chair by the range while she waited for it to cook and now she was wide awake. Today would be the beginning of a new way of life. If she could make it work she would be independent. She would no longer have to rely on the charity of others, and even more important, she would be her own boss. She was no longer a servant. She might not be Kit’s social equal but she knew her own worth and she could hold her head high in any society. She was a young woman determined to make her mark in the world unaided. She looked up at the sound of the door opening and saw her mother standing in the doorway. She picked up the cake and held it out to her. ‘Ma, I made this especially for you, the best mother in the world. As far as I’m concerned every day is my mother’s day.’

  Stella spent the next few weeks in a daze of near exhaustion, often working late into the night in order to bake enough cakes, biscuits and pastries to stock the shop the next day. Rosa had been busy making calls on old friends and shamelessly promoting the business. At first trade was brisk in buns and small cakes but after making a particularly fine wedding cake for one of Tommy Langhorne’s relations orders began to trickle in from well-to-do households. Cooks who could not afford the time or perhaps had not the expertise or oven space to make such luxury items began ordering pastries and cakes and no doubt passing them off as their own work to their unknowing employers. Belinda served in the shop while Stella and Jacinta worked in the kitchen, occasionally with help from Maud, who proved to be very useful when it came to tedious jobs like blanching almonds and chopping candied peel.

  With Christmas fast approaching trade picked up considerably, and the weekly figures in the ledger began to show that they were heading for a small profit. Kit had written that he expected to have his first leave in mid-December, and Stella lived for the day when he would return home. His letters were filled with details of his life in camp, but they always ended with words that made them precious to her, which she read and reread every evening before she laid her head down on the pillow to sleep. He would be coming home at Christmas for an unspecified length of time. She could not wait.

  Then one bitterly cold morning she received a letter that dashed all her hopes. She sank down on a chair as she read it for the third time. His unit was due to sail for Afghanistan on the ninth of December, and it was already the twelfth. She could hardly believe that fate would be so cruel as to separate them indefinitely when they had only just acknowledged their love for each other. She set off for the shop in a daze.

  Rosa was equally upset, but she had been invited to spend Christmas with the Langhornes at Portgone Place and she had made no secret of the fact that she expected to return with an engagement ring on her finger. Tommy had already become part of their extended family and, apart from his financial backing, he had promoted their business, he said, to the extent that his friends had ceased to invite him to their homes in case he tried to sell them cake. Stella had been able to give him the first repayment on the loan, and every day when the takings had been added up and entered into the ledger she set aside the amount needed for the next instalment. It gave her a feeling of intense pride to be self-sufficient and very nearly in credit. If they could get a few more orders for weddings or christenings they would be doing well.

  Two days before Christmas Mr Hendy caused a stir in Artillery Street by driving up to the shop in his farm cart drawn by two powerful shire horses. Dressed in a tweed Norfolk jacket and deerstalker he looked the picture of a country gentleman and oddly out of place in a shabby city street, but he seemed oblivious to the curious stares he received from passers-by as he handed the reins to a small boy, tossing him a coin. He breezed into the shop, where Stella was arranging a tray of sugar-coated buns in the window, and swept her off her feet in an affectionate embrace. The fresh scent of country air clung to his clothes, together with the aroma of pipe tobacco and Macassar oil. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Stella my girl,’ he said, beaming. ‘I’ve come to take you all down to Chalkhill Farm for the festive season.’

  Belinda hurried out from behind the counter to kiss him on his whiskery cheek. ‘Pa Hendy, you’re a saviour. I was thinking we were going to spend Christmas working until we dropped.’

  He set Stella back on her feet. ‘I won’t take no for an answer. I can see you’re about to argue, but I’m sure you can shut up shop for a couple of days.’

  ‘I’ve got orders to fulfil for Christmas Eve,’ Stella said, laughing. ‘I can’t just pack up and leave.’

  The door leading into the kitchen opened and Jacinta appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the range and she had a smudge of flour on the tip of her nose. Mr Hendy took off his hat and bowed. ‘Mrs Rivenhall, Jacinta, my dear, I’ve come to invite you to spend Christmas with us on the farm.’ He opened his arms as if to embrace them all. ‘And I mean everyone, including Aunt Maud and that wretched cat. The house isn’t the same without you.’

  Jacinta looked out of the window and raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you drive all the way from Essex in the farm cart, Thaddeus?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s the only vehicle I have big enough to take all my ladies. I’ve put cushions in the back and a chair for Aunt Maud. I’ve secured it with rope so that the good lady will be safe.’

  Belinda began to giggle and Stella had difficulty in keeping a straight face. ‘It’s a wonderful idea, Mr Hendy, but it’s not exactly the weather for a hayride.’

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ Belinda said hastily. ‘Living in London isn’t as exciting as I thought it might be. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a shop girl or a nun, but I do miss the animals and the fresh country air.’

  ‘Bertie sends his best
regards to all, especially you, Belle. He’s quite a reformed character these days and doesn’t spend nearly as much time in the local hostelry.’

  Belinda turned to Stella with a pleading look. ‘May I go with Pa Hendy? I’ve worked hard in the shop and I would love to spend a proper family Christmas in the country. Surely you could close up for a couple of days?’

  Hendy turned to Jacinta with a persuasive grin. ‘You’ll agree to that, won’t you, my dear?’

  ‘I can’t desert my girls, Thaddeus,’ she said slowly. ‘Much as I would love to accept your invitation it will be our first Christmas together for a very long time, and that is very important to me.’

  He frowned, taking off his deerstalker and twirling it in his hands as if it helped him to think more clearly. ‘There must be a way. If you closed up in the early afternoon tomorrow we could travel then. What do you say, Stella?’

  She could see that both her mother and her sister were eager to accept and she could not bear to disappoint them. ‘I might be able to do it,’ she said doubtfully. ‘But everyone would have to work twice as hard, and there are the deliveries to make.’

  ‘Perhaps Perry and Spike would help,’ Jacinta suggested. ‘Maybe we could use your cart, Thaddeus?’

  ‘I’d be happy to lend a hand. I’ll go and look for a lodging house for tonight and a stable for my horses, and then I’ll take you all out for supper.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Jacinta said firmly. ‘We’ve got a spare room and you’re more than welcome to stay with us. We’d love that, wouldn’t we, girls?’

  ‘We certainly would. And there’s a livery stable close to the brewery.’ Stella sniffed the air. ‘Oh, my goodness, something’s burning. You make the arrangements, Ma. I’ll go and rescue my gingerbread men.’

  If the locals had thought it odd to see a farm cart arriving in Artillery Street, their departure for the country caused even more of a stir. With Aunt Maud seated liked Queen Victoria on a makeshift throne lashed to the timber frame of the cart, and everyone else, including the archangel and Spike, seated on cushions and straw-filled sacks, the vehicle lumbered through the city drawn by the sturdy shire horses. Rosa had left earlier in the luxury of the Langhornes’ barouche, and although Tommy had offered to take Aunt Maud and Timmy, she thanked him politely and declined. Stella had seen the sparkle in Maud’s eyes when the opportunity arose to do something out of the ordinary and she silently applauded her courage. Maud had suffered years of humiliation and deprivation at the hands of her stepson and now she was embracing life with renewed vigour. Wrapped in blankets, with a muffler wound around her bonnet and neck, she looked like an explorer setting off for the North Pole.

  The lamplighter was doing his rounds as they left the city and headed out into the more rural areas. Looking back, Stella could see a pall of smoke hovering like a nimbus cloud over the rooftops of London. The further they drove the clearer the sky became, and stars twinkled from a blue-black dome above their heads. Frost glittered on the grass verges and everyone huddled together in an attempt to keep warm. They stopped at a hostelry and enjoyed hot pies and mulled ale before continuing their journey, arriving at the farmhouse just as Bob finished milking and Bertie locked the animals away for the night.

  Stella had been nervous about meeting Bob again but he greeted her fondly and without any sign of reproach. Bertie lifted her off her feet in an affectionate hug and he danced Belle around the kitchen, only putting her down to give Jacinta and Aunt Maud an equally enthusiastic welcome.

  Perry and Spike stood back but Mr Hendy made a point of introducing them to his sons. ‘Bertie will show you to your room,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I hope you don’t mind sharing.’

  Spike glanced at the rocking chair by the kitchen range. ‘I could sleep there, boss. No trouble.’

  ‘There’s no need, Spike,’ Jacinta said firmly. ‘There are beds enough for all of us. We’ll all sleep well after that long journey.’

  Stella noted that her mother slipped automatically into the role of hostess and she was happy for her, and yet a little sad. It seemed that she had found her mother only to lose her again to the Hendys, but she dismissed the thought instantly. The most important thing was for Ma to be happy.

  Mr Hendy took Jacinta’s hand. ‘Ellie has done her best to cook our supper tonight and we’ll eat first, but then I’d like to invite you all to join us in our Christmas Eve tradition.’

  Jacinta cocked her head on one side, eyeing him curiously. ‘What is that, Thaddeus?’

  ‘We join the church choir to go carol singing. It’s something we always do and I wouldn’t want to let them down, but I’ll quite understand if anyone would rather stay here in the warm.’

  ‘It’s a jolly evening,’ Bertie said hastily. ‘The villagers are generous with their hospitality.’

  ‘You will come, won’t you, Stella?’ Bob said softly. ‘Please.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve never been carol singing but we went to church every Sunday when I worked at Portgone Place. At least I’ll know the words.’

  ‘I think I might remain by the fire with Timmy,’ Maud said, yawning. ‘Too much fresh air is bad for a woman of my age. You go and enjoy yourselves.’

  Wrapped up against the cold, they met the rest of the party in the village outside the Plough Inn. Judging by the broad smiles on some of the men’s faces they must have enjoyed a hot toddy or two in order to keep warm, but their welcome was genuine. Mr Hendy introduced them to the choirmaster, who carried a large violoncello on his back, giving him the appearance of a very old tortoise. ‘We are all here now,’ the choirmaster announced in a voice that carried on the night air. ‘Shall we proceed?’

  The fiddler, who was listing to one side like a ship in a heavy sea, nodded his head. ‘Aye, Thomas. I think it’s time we got going or it will be Christmas morning afore we get to the manor house, and the squire always lays on a good feast.’

  A rumble of assent rippled round the group, and with lanterns held high they shuffled to their first stop outside the pub door. Bob leaned closer to Stella. ‘I think a few of our friends have already sampled the landlord’s best. We’ll be a merry bunch before the evening is done.’

  ‘My feet are so cold I can hardly feel them. I’ll be glad of something warming,’ she whispered.

  ‘Say no more. After a quick rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, the landlord will provide something to help us on our way.’ He nodded his head in the direction of his father and Jacinta, who were standing arm in arm. ‘They make a handsome couple. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Your father is a good man and my mother deserves to be happy, but it isn’t that simple.’

  ‘She kept nothing secret, Stella. I admired her honesty and her courage in telling us her story.’

  ‘My mother spent her childhood following the drum with my grandparents. They both died in terrible circumstances, and then she was forced to abandon her children to the workhouse. If anyone deserves to have a loving family around her it’s my mother.’

  His answer was lost as the choirmaster lifted his violoncello from his back and cleared his throat. ‘One, two, three . . .’ He struck a chord and the fiddler scraped his bow across the strings.

  With more gusto than musical finesse the choir launched into the first carol. Their combined voices and the sound of the stringed instruments wafted into the cold night air. The stars seemed to twinkle down on them, as if the heavens heard and appreciated their heroic attempts to celebrate the nativity. Stella sang with all her heart. Her family were gathered here but two young men were missing. Kit was never far from her thoughts, and one day she hoped she would find Freddie. She looked down as she felt a small hand curl itself around her mittened fingers and she saw Spike looking up at her with tears in his eyes.

  ‘I remember this carol, miss.’ His voice broke on a muffled sob. ‘My ma used to sing it to me long ago afore the workhouse took me. I can hardly remember her face, but I can still hear her voice. She was an angel.
’

  Stella squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sure she was,’ she murmured softly.

  ‘You won’t go away and leave me, will you, miss?’ Tears glistened on his dark eyelashes. ‘You won’t forget Spike when you marry the toff?’

  ‘I’m not thinking of marriage at the moment, but whatever happens in the future you’ll always have a home with me, Spike.’

  He nodded and released her hand, hunching his shoulders as if embarrassed by his show of emotion. ‘Ta, miss. I never doubted it for a minute.’

  The carol finished suddenly and the choir surged forward as the landlord of the pub appeared in the doorway with a tray of drinks. ‘A merry Christmas to you all.’

  Bob edged his way forward and returned with three tin cups of hot punch. He gave one to Spike. ‘Go easy on this, young fellow. I don’t want to have to carry you home at the end of the evening.’

  Stella accepted hers with a grateful smile. ‘You’re a kind man, Robert. You’re just like your father. I’d be proud to call you my brother.’

  ‘It’s not what I wished for, but it’s better than nothing. I’ll always have a soft spot for you, Stella.’ Bob downed his drink. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  She raised her cup. ‘Merry Christmas, Bob.’ She turned to Spike. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  His eyes were suspiciously bright as he drank the toast. ‘Here’s to our family, miss.’

  ‘I think you should start calling me Stella.’

  Spike’s pale cheeks flushed scarlet. ‘Ta, Stella.’

  The choirmaster clapped his hands. ‘Finish your drinks. We’ve got many more calls to make afore midnight.’ He signalled to the fiddler, who struck up a jig as the company moved on with their lanterns bobbing. Moving shafts of light illuminated the pathways between the houses and at each stop they were received with small donations of money for the poor. Their last call was the manor house, where they were invited into the wainscoted entrance hall and their singing was rewarded with mince pies and mulled wine.