A Loving Family (34 page)

‘There was nothing here worth stealing.' The woman in black gave Stella a penetrating look. ‘If you knew Ronald at all you'd be aware that he never kept money on the premises.'

‘Are you related to Mr Clifford, ma'am?'

‘I am his widow. Not that it's any of your business, young woman. Who, may I ask, are you?'

‘My name is Stella Barry and Mr Clifford's stepmother is my great-great-aunt.'

‘Do you mean to tell me that the old trout is still alive? I thought she'd died years ago.'

‘I discovered Aunt Maud living in cheap lodgings above a butcher's shop in Artillery Road. I'm surprised he didn't tell you.'

‘Ronald never mentioned his stepmother. I really thought she'd passed away.'

‘Aunt Maud was in a terrible state when I found her,' Stella said angrily. ‘She was suffering from neglect and half out of her mind with loneliness.'

‘My husband didn't like his stepmother, but then he disliked a great many people. He was a cold-hearted man and I saw very little of him. Now I'm free and I'm living as I want to. It's quite a pleasant change, I can assure you.'

‘My aunt ought to have some share in this business,' Stella said firmly. ‘She was left with nothing other than what your late husband chose to give her, which was very little.'

Mrs Clifford sniffed and her lips compressed into a thin line. ‘That had nothing to do with me. Ronald didn't discuss such things, and now I'm trying to decide what to do with the premises. I can't sell the building because the rooms above are tenanted by people who unfortunately have long leases.'

‘Would you consider letting the shop to me?' Stella said slowly. ‘I wouldn't be able to run it as an undertaker, but I might have an idea that would prove beneficial to both of us.'

‘Really?' Rosa whispered. ‘Do tell.'

‘Yes, Miss Barry. Do enlighten us.' Mrs Clifford gazed round the shop interior with a disdainful expression. ‘I can't think of any business that could survive here, especially when the previous owner was murdered by persons unknown.'

‘Have the police found any clues as to the identity of the killer?' Stella had to ask the question.

Mrs Clifford shook her head. ‘They are still hunting for the villain, although I'm sure that Ronald had made many enemies in his lifetime. He was not a likeable man and he was not a good husband, but to be fair to his memory he did leave me very well off, which is why I haven't bothered with the shop until now.'

‘I'm thinking of doing something entirely different,' Stella said slowly. ‘I was trained as a cook in one of the best houses in Essex. My specialty is making cakes and pastries.'

‘This is hardly the sort of area to open a shop selling fancies,' Mrs Clifford said, shaking her head. ‘You would need to be in the West End to succeed. The people round here are more accustomed to eating pie and jellied eels.'

‘I have to earn my own living, Mrs Clifford. I would put everything I have into such a venture, and I have my family to help me. I'm not alone.'

‘Indeed you're not,' Rosa said enthusiastically. ‘There is always an excuse for people to treat themselves to something special and delicious. You could make wedding cakes and funeral biscuits and simnel cakes at Easter.'

The memory of what happened to that small but very special cake on Mothering Sunday all those years ago flashed into Stella's mind and she swallowed hard. The theft of that cake had haunted her dreams ever since, and she had always planned to make another and even better cake for her mother. That day seemed to be getting closer. She met Mrs Clifford's cynical gaze with a challenge in her eyes. ‘I believe I could do it, ma'am. Are you willing to take a risk and allow me to rent the premises? And would you agree to a change of use?'

Mrs Clifford was silent for a moment. She stared at Stella with narrowed eyes as if calculating the risk, and then she allowed her expression to relax just a little. ‘I'll instruct my solicitor to draw up a tenancy agreement and let you have a one-year lease to start with. If you succeed I'll consider extending it.'

‘And the rent, ma'am?' Stella hardly dared frame the question. She would need to raise a considerable amount of money in order to make her business work, but if the rent was prohibitive she might have to give up the idea altogether.

‘I'll have to think about that.' Mrs Clifford moved towards the doorway. ‘But it will be reasonable. I'm not greedy and grasping like Mr Clifford, and it seems that you have taken responsibility for his stepmother. I think a peppercorn rent for the first year will suffice. If you succeed we'll talk again.' She opened her reticule and took out a visiting card, handing it to Stella. ‘Call on me in a few days' time and I'll have the necessary papers ready for you to sign.' She opened the door and swept out of the premises.

‘There's only one problem,' Stella said slowly. ‘If I'm to start up here I'll need money for the rent and funds I can draw on to turn the workshop into a kitchen. I'll need a large range with at least two ovens, and that's going to be very expensive. Perhaps it was just a dream, Rosa. I allowed myself to be carried away and lost sight of reality.'

‘Nonsense. You mustn't think like that. Tomorrow, you and I will go to Essex. You'll visit your mother at the farm and ask her to join us in London with Belinda and Aunt Maud, and her wretched cat, and I'll go to Portgone Place. I'll tell Tommy that he has to recompense you for the hurt and humiliation he caused you by lending you the money to start up in business. He can afford it, I'm sure.'

Stella stared at her, aghast. ‘You can't ask him for money.'

‘I'll tell him it's a business opportunity.' Rosa laid her hand on Stella's arm. ‘Don't look so appalled. We'll pay him back every penny. It's just a loan, and anyway I need an excuse to visit Portgone Place. I can't just turn up like a lovelorn schoolgirl. I do have some pride.'

Next morning, just as Stella and Rosa were preparing to leave for the railway station, a barouche with a coat of arms emblazoned on the door pulled up outside the house. ‘It's the Langhornes' coach, and that's Collins on the driver's seat. You don't have to pocket your pride, Rosa. I think Tommy has come to see you.'

THE OLD HOUSE
in Fleur-de-Lis Street had suddenly come to life. Aunt Maud and Timmy were reinstated in the front parlour while Jacinta and Belinda occupied two rooms on the second floor. The archangel grumbled that women had invaded his territory, but Stella was convinced that he secretly enjoyed being the only adult male in a house echoing with the sound of female voices and girlish laughter. Belinda and Rosa had become firm friends and Stella might have felt a little jealous had she not been fully occupied. Converting the workshop where coffins had been made into a kitchen suitable for a professional cook was no mean feat, but she could already see herself there baking cakes and fancies.

Tommy had been persuaded to invest a whole year's allowance in the project, which he did, Stella suspected, simply to please Rosa, but whatever his motives he handed over the money willingly, and he became a frequent visitor to the house in Fleur-de-Lis Street. He gave his investment in Stella's business as his excuse, but even to a casual observer it was obvious that it was Rosa he came to see.

Stella had hoped that Belinda might want to work with her, but her sister had enjoyed a taste of freedom on the farm and she showed little interest in Stella's plans. It was Jacinta who threw herself wholeheartedly into helping to turn what had been a run-down funeral parlour into a bakehouse and shop. Mother and daughter worked together tirelessly, often staying on the premises late into the evening cleaning up after the workmen had left. When they were at home they sat together in the kitchen, making lists of the utensils they would need and the supplies they would have to purchase. Together they visited flour mills and sugar bakers to discuss buying in bulk and organising deliveries. They ventured into warehouses close to the London docks where they purchased sacks of dried fruit and almonds, and smaller quantities of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and allspice.

The shop itself had to be fitted out with a counter and shelves where they could display their wares to their best advantage. Polished mahogany and glass were used to great effect and Stella invested in a gasolier which would illuminate the premises on dark winter mornings and evenings.

All this activity kept her busy in the daytime, but at night alone in her room she thought only of Kit, recalling with a lump in her throat the close embrace they had shared on the evening before he departed for Canterbury. He wrote long letters detailing the rigours of his training with amusing descriptions of the men in his unit, but matters were escalating in Afghanistan and it seemed that a second war was almost inevitable. When the British mission was turned back as it approached the eastern entrance of the Khyber Pass, she feared that it was only a matter of time before the 4th Hussars were called upon to do their duty. Kit would sail for a far country and inevitable danger.

‘Gervase Rivenhall might as well have put a loaded gun to Kit's head,' Stella said one evening as she sat with her mother, making a list of the things they had to do before they started work next day. ‘That man has a lot to answer for.'

Jacinta smiled sadly. ‘I know it only too well. If it had not been for you he would have destroyed me completely. I was totally in his power and it seemed there was no escape.'

Stella laid her hand on her mother's as it rested on the tabletop amidst sheets of paper and the ledger in which they listed their purchases. ‘You're free now, Ma. That's all that matters.'

‘Am I?' Jacinta's dark eyes flashed with anger. ‘I'm still legally married to the brute. He has me trapped so that I cannot think of remarrying.'

‘He said he would divorce you.' Stella eyed her mother curiously. ‘Is there someone you want to marry, Ma?'

‘Perhaps, but I don't know if he was serious when he spoke to me of a future together.'

‘Are you speaking of Mr Hendy?'

‘Thaddeus is a perfect gentleman and quite the kindest man I have ever met, apart from my dear Isaac.'

‘I didn't realise you'd become close to Mr Hendy, Ma. Why didn't you tell me? I would never have dragged you up to London to work so hard if I'd thought you might be happier in the country.'

‘My darling girl, you and your sister are more important to me than any man. I admit I'm fond of Thaddeus, but I missed so much of your childhood and I abandoned Belinda and Freddie to the workhouse. I have much to atone for.'

‘But you didn't have any choice, Ma. You settled me with the Langhornes and I was reasonably happy there, although it's not the life I would have chosen for myself.'

Jacinta pushed the ledger across the table with an impatient flick of her fingers. ‘And this is? Do you think it makes me happy to see you taking on debt and drudgery in order to keep bread on the table?'

‘It will be cake, Ma,' Stella said, smiling. ‘We all have to earn our keep, even Belle, who just wants to enjoy being part of a loving family again, but I'm going to tell her she has to serve in the shop. You and I will be busy in the kitchen, and Rosa is not really part of this.'

‘I think that Rosa will soon be engaged to Tommy. That boy practically lives here.'

‘We wouldn't have a business if it weren't for him.'

Jacinta rose to her feet. ‘I know, Stella. I've heard all the reasons for this burden that you've taken upon yourself, but if I'd been a stronger woman I would never have allowed this to happen. If I'd done things differently maybe my children would not have suffered so much. As for poor Freddie, I don't even know where he is. He might be dead for all I know.' She clapped her hand to her forehead. ‘I am a wicked woman, Stella.'

‘No, you are not, Ma. You did what you had to do, and I'm doing the only thing I'm fitted for. I was trained as a cook and I'm going to bake cakes so fine that the queen herself will order them.' She stood up and put her arms around her mother's slim waist. ‘We'll do it together, Ma.'

‘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.