The Bonbon Girl

‘Colenso, get down here now.’ As her father’s angry voice carried up the stairs, she quickly hid Kitto’s present under her pillow. Goodness, she must have dreamed away an hour or more, for it had grown dark and she hadn’t even noticed.

Slowly she descended the stairs to find her father had lit the lamp and was sitting in his chair drumming his fingers on the table. Grim-faced at the best of times, he was looking positively severe.

‘What you bin up to?’ he snarled, hazel eyes eyeing her suspiciously. ‘Mr Fenton pulled me aside as I was leaving work.’ Frowning, he clamped his mouth over his pipe. Nervously, Colenso watched the curl of smoke disappearing into the clean clothes hanging beside the herbs on the wooden airer.

‘Mamm not back yet?’ she asked, knowing how much her mother hated him smoking in her kitchen.

‘Don’t change the subject,’ he growled, his eyes narrowing. ‘Don’t know what you’ve done but you’re to come to his office with me first thing Monday morning.’

‘But I haven’t done anything wrong. I only collected the cuttings you said were waiting,’ she said, gesturing to her basket.

‘Well, you’ve to take them back and samples of them gifts you make,’ he added. Just then, the door clattered open again and Colenso’s mother hurried into the room. ‘You’re late, woman,’ he barked, turning his attention to his wife. ‘And not for the first time this week.’

‘Sorry, Peder,’ Caja puffed, clearly out of breath from hurrying up the lane. ‘Mrs Janes took her time passing and then I had to lay …’

‘’Tis supper I want, not excuses,’ he grumped, drumming his fingers on the table again.

‘Yes, Peder,’ she replied, scuttling over to the range.

‘It’s all right, Mamm, I baked pasties this morning,’ Colenso said seeing how tired and drawn she looked. Not for the first time, she wished her father would show more consideration for her mother, especially as it was his spendthrift ways that caused her to work all the hours she could. ‘I’ll make a brew to go with them.’

‘You’re a good girl,’ Caja replied, smiling gratefully.

‘Pah, you won’t think that when you hear what she’s been up to,’ Peder scowled.

‘I only collected the cuttings as usual,’ Colenso explained as her mamm looked askance. ‘It’s not my fault that nasty new manager took exception.’

‘Well, old Coxie never minded. Perhaps he was just exerting his authority, him being a new broom an’ all,’ Caja mused.

‘This one’s horrid. He’s got probing eyes and a nasty sneer. Reminds me of a ferret …’ Colenso began, only to be interrupted by her father.

‘We’ll have no more of that talk. You’ll show respect to Mr Fenton come Monday morning, my girl, or you’ll feel the weight of my belt. Now, where’s my food?’

Knowing from experience that his threats weren’t idle, Colenso snatched up the pot and hurried out to the pump. There wasn’t anyone to stick up for her either, for Tomas had taken to staying out until their father had gone to bed. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before she’d be free from her domineering parent.

✳

The next day, as soon as they’d finished their midday broth, her father slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. When his snores and snorts rang out, setting the bowls on the dresser banging together, Colenso tidied her hair then removed the apron protecting her Sunday-best blouse. Although it was far from new, its gold sheen brought out the amber flecks in her dark eyes. Kissing her mamm goodbye, she threw her shawl over her shoulders and headed towards the Todden. She was so excited, she hardly noticed the sea fret hanging over the headland or the biting wind keening in from the east. Hunched in his heavy serge jacket with his flat cap pulled tightly over his head, Kitto was pacing the green impatiently but, as soon as he saw her, his face broke into a wide grin.

‘Thought you were never coming,’ he murmured, taking her arm and leading her away from the fishermen’s cottages where the windows stood staring like prying eyes.

‘I said I would, silly,’ she smiled.

‘’Tis silly I am, is it?’ he grinned. Then he became serious. ‘And is silly what you thought of my present?’ She pretended to consider, but he was staring at her so anxiously she shook her head instead.

‘I thought it was lovely,’ she told him. ‘In fact, it’s the nicest one I’ve ever received,’ she teased. To her surprise, instead of bantering back as normal, he just nodded. Arms linked, they wandered up the lane, strides matching with the ease that comes with being comfortable in each other’s company. A couple of times he cleared his throat as if about to speak before shaking his head. For once Colenso remained silent, knowing he would say what he wanted in his own good time. As if by instinct they found themselves in Mammwynn’s little garden and Colenso settled herself on the seat.

‘Colenso.’ His voice was gruff with emotion and she turned to face him. Except he wasn’t beside her. ‘Colenso.’ This time she realized the voice was coming from her feet, and looking down she saw Kitto on bended knee staring up at her. ‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.

‘Why Kitto, of course I will,’ she cried. ‘Now get up off that damp grass before you take a chill.’ Grinning, he sprang onto the seat beside her and held out a ring. She had to stifle a giggle when she saw it was one of his mamm’s brass curtain rings, but let him put it on her finger anyway.

‘This is just a token, Cali,’ he murmured. ‘I love you and promise to save hard for a proper ring.’

‘All I want is to be your wife, Kitto,’ she smiled leaning closer. As his lips came down on hers the rowans rustled their approval and she felt a deep sense of contentment.

‘We can have our handfasting ceremony right here,’ she murmured happily.

‘Of course, where else? Although you do realize we won’t be able to wed until I’ve seen my siblings settled.’ He stared anxiously into her eyes and, knowing how seriously he felt the responsibility for his family’s welfare, she sought to reassure him. It wasn’t his fault his father had been caught sheep-rustling and deported two years previously. His mamm had borne the humiliation of losing both her husband and farmhouse home with dignity, making the best of life in a dilapidated hovel on the outskirts of the village. Although she took in washing and cleaned at the hostelry when needed, it was Kitto’s wage that paid the rent and being apprenticed, that wasn’t much. However, provided he continued putting in the long hours required, his prospects at the serpentine works were good.

‘I understand, Kitto,’ she assured him. ‘Still, Alys is applying for a position as scullery maid at Bochym Manor next month. She’ll live in, get well fed and who knows, she might even get to see our dear Queen Victoria and Prince Albert should they decide to stay there again.’

‘She’d love that,’ he grinned. ‘It was them that popularized our local stone, you know.’ Colenso shook her head. Everyone knew it was the royal visit and their subsequent purchases that had breathed new life into the industry. However, Kitto was still musing. ‘Give anything to see that serpentine ha-ha in the grounds, meant to be a right feature, it is.’

‘Well, Cury is only a few miles away so if Alys gets the job you can offer to take her.’

‘That’s a thought, but there’s still Wenna and Daveth.’

‘Who are growing up fast,’ she assured him.

‘Mother always looks on the bright side too,’ Kitto smiled. ‘I can see why she loves you almost as much as I do.’ He leaned closer, his lips claiming hers once more.

‘And Mamm thinks the world of you too,’ Colenso murmured when she’d recovered sufficiently to talk again.

‘I shall need to ask your father’s permission,’ Kitto grimaced. Colenso nodded and swallowed hard.

‘It will be fine,’ she assured him.

‘Do you really think so?’ he asked, doubt furrowing his brow.

‘Of course,’ she replied, crossing her fingers and hoping hard. ‘I’ve to see this new manager of Poltesco with him tomorrow so will try and pave the way for you then.’ But the thought of facing her father must have been playing on his mind, for he didn’t even ask why she’d been summoned.

‘Best not tell anyone till I have spoken to him, though.’

‘Don’t worry, only Mammwynn knows and she can’t say anything, can she?’ Colenso chuckled. The rowan rustled harder, making her laugh even more. ‘Or perhaps she can,’ she spluttered. ‘She always said you were a devilish rascal, Kitto Rowse.’

✳

The next morning didn’t get off to a good start as Caja was sent for to help with a birthing.

‘But I ain’t been fed yet,’ her father grumbled.

‘Don’t worry, Father. I’ll see to it,’ Colenso assured him as her mamm, torn between her duties as wife and sick nurse, dithered uncertainly.

‘Best keep your news to yourself, the mood he’s in,’ she whispered.

‘But how …’ Colenso began, staring at her mamm in astonishment. Caja gestured to the ring on her finger and winked before scurrying out of the door.

On the way to the works, hurrying to keep up with her father’s long stride, Colenso waited for an opportunity to broach the subject of Kitto. Despite the damp mist that clung to her clothes, she was so happy she felt like a soap bubble ready to pop.

‘Don’t know what you’re smiling about, Colenso Carne. Being summoned before the manager ain’t nothing to be proud of. ‘Specially a new one,’ he snapped. ‘Years I’ve been trying to gain a rung up the ladder. Toiled long hours, I have, earning enough to make a better life for you and your mother.’ Colenso bit her tongue. That he earned a reasonable wage might be true, but them seeing any of it was quite another matter. Mamm was forever saying the hostelry was her father’s mistress, swallowing his money like a bottomless pit, leaving them scrimping to pay the rent man and put food on the table.

‘Ouch.’ She jumped as yet another stone stabbed her foot. As ever, a new pair of boots or at least decent soles were long overdue, for she’d long outgrown her brother’s old ones.

‘Stop wittering and get a move on, maid,’ her father snapped, glaring at her over his shoulder. It would help if he carried her laden basket, but should the thought even cross his mind, which she doubted, he would consider it beneath him. Her breath rose in little white puffs in the cold morning air as she endeavoured to keep up with him. They were joined along the way by other bleary-eyed workers carrying knapsacks over their shoulders, the scutes on their boots ringing out on the rock-strewn path as they tramped towards the mine. Some called out in greeting and Colenso waved back, but her father sullenly ignored them. Colenso sighed. Mamm was right, it certainly wasn’t the right time to tell him about Kitto.

Finally, as the straggle of workers rounded the corner, the mist lifted and they saw another schooner waiting in the bay.

‘God knows how he thinks we’ll cut enough stone to fill that. We only sent one off Sat’day,’ her father grumbled as he stamped his way down the rough track to the factory and its adjacent workings. ‘Bet he’ll dock my pay for taking you to his office, an’ all.’

‘I can go by myself,’ Colenso assured him.

‘Pah, you’re female,’ he spat. ‘What would Fenton make of that? Managers deal man to man,’ he added, squaring his shoulders.

‘Yes, Father,’ she replied, hefting her heavy basket onto the other arm as they picked their way carefully towards the office.

To her father’s annoyance, rather than be shown inside, they were told the manager was busy and they should wait.

‘Who the hell was that?’ he asked, frowning at the dapper little man who, after imparting his message, scuttled back inside leaving them shivering in the freezing cold of the early morning.

Chapter 3

‘Costing me money, this is, Colenso,’ her father snapped, staring at the work going on around them. They’d been waiting outside for ages and Colenso’s hands were red with cold while her ears rang with the constant noise of sawing and banging. ‘I’ll dock it from your allowance,’ he growled, clamping his mouth on his pipe.

‘My what?’ she exclaimed, staring at him incredulously. But footsteps crunched on the stones behind them and he’d already turned away.

The funny little man reappeared and beckoned them into the office, almost bowing to the manager before scurrying away. As the door closed behind him, Peder’s scowl turned to a syrupy smile.

‘Good morning, Mr Fenton, sir. I have brought my dear daughter Colenso to meet you, like you asked,’ he gushed.

Henry Fenton looked up from the papers he’d been studying, a gleam sparking momentarily as his eyes drew level with Colenso’s chest. Gripping her basket tighter, she quickly looked away and stared around the room, which seemingly overnight had turned from a dingy dumping ground to a neat and tidy office. Even the windows had been wiped, although they wouldn’t stay clean for long with all the dust and grime that was constantly blown around.

‘Correction, Carne, I ordered you to bring her to see me,’ Fenton pompously pointed out, bringing her back to the present. Picking up a pen with his soft, white hands, he sat and studied them. Evidently he didn’t intend doing any manual work, Colenso thought, taking in the cut of his charcoal suit and matching silk kerchief in his top pocket. And his manners were sorely lacking too for, despite there being two other chairs, he didn’t invite them to sit.

‘I hope you are settling in …’ her father began.

‘I didn’t ask you here to talk about my well-being, rather to discuss the matter of theft from my premises,’ Fenton replied crisply.

‘I’ll have you know I am not a thief,’ Colenso cried. ‘I only took the cuttings I was told I could have.’

‘Quiet, girl,’ Peder ordered.

‘Quite, Carne. Now,’ he said turning to Colenso. ‘I’m in charge here and do not recollect giving you permission to remove anything from the premises.’ The eyes that surveyed her were as grey and forbidding as the granite cliffs. Clearly grey was his colour, she thought and would have laughed if her stomach wasn’t tying itself into knots. ‘The first thing I did when I arrived was to have all the materials checked, and it would appear there are quantities unaccounted for. Now, empty out your basket,’ he ordered, gesturing to the space in front of him. Colenso looked at her father, who shrugged. Slowly she placed the small sack of cuttings she’d collected on Saturday, plus brooches and buttons she’d recently fashioned, on the desk before him.

‘As you can see, there are only a few offcuts and trinkets …’ her father began.

‘You can go about your work now, Carne,’ Fenton cut in. ‘An important order needs shipping out tonight so you’d better look sharp. You don’t want your wages docked more than necessary, I’m sure.’

‘Yes, sir. No, sir,’ Peder stuttered. Three bags full, sir, Colenso thought as he hurried from the room like a schoolboy anxious to please his teacher.

Once the door had closed behind him, Henry Fenton sat back in his seat and studied Colenso thoughtfully.

‘Tell me a bit about yourself, my dear,’ he said, his voice softer now. Colenso frowned, suspicious at the change in his demeanour.

‘Do you have any brothers and sisters?’ he asked.

‘Um, five, sir.’

‘Five?’ he repeated incredulously.

‘Well, two brothers living and three sisters in the churchyard.’

‘Your sisters live in the churchyard?’ he asked, his brows rising.

‘Yes, sir, two were born dead and one lived for six months.’

‘Oh, I see. And you live at home with your parents and brothers?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, wondering where this was leading.

‘How old are you, Miss Carne?’

‘Seventeen but I don’t think …’ she began, but he continued speaking.

‘I expect a handsome young lady like yourself has many followers?’ he asked, nose twitching as he looked her over like she was a prize filly. Buxom she might be but handsome? Was he having a laugh at her expense? But that gleam sparked in his eyes again, making her shiver.

‘Only the one,’ she mumbled.

‘Goodness, the young men around here must be blind,’ he exclaimed, leaning forward and picking up one of the trinkets she’d fashioned. As he did so, she noticed a shiny spot on the top of his head. Why, he was going bald, she thought, stifling a giggle.

‘You find all this amusing, Miss Carne?’ he asked brusquely, his eyes turning hard again.

‘No, sir, I’m just feeling a bit faint, having been stood outside in the cold for so long.’

Impatiently he gestured for her to take a seat. Her eyes widened in surprise but she did as he bade.

‘I see some of these have been turned – and expertly too,’ he said, studying a rounded stone fashioned into a brooch. ‘Tell me, are you a marble turner perchance?’ His lips curled into one of his sneers and she knew he was mocking her.

‘No, sir, but you …’

‘So presumably you have help from one,’ he cut in. ‘And presumably that person is employed here at the works?’ He turned his penetrating gaze upon Colenso but determined not to give anything away, she didn’t reply.

‘I see,’ he replied. ‘Well, Miss Carne, you should be aware that as manager, I will make it my business to find out everything about the people employed here. In the meantime, perhaps you’d tell me what you do with these, er, trinkets,’ Fenton asked.

‘Sell them to the tourists,’ she murmured.

‘Indeed. And do these tourists pay well?’ he asked, sitting back in his chair and eyeing her speculatively.

‘Quite well, sir,’ Colenso replied, not sure where this new line of questioning was leading.

‘And tell me, Miss Carne, how much of the sale price you receive do you give back to the works?’

‘Give back?’ she murmured. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, it stands to reason that if you sell property belonging to Poltesco then any profit should be given back, should it not?’

‘But they are only odd cuttings you would otherwise dispose of,’ she sputtered, her nails biting into her hand as she strove to keep calm.

‘Cut offs, cuttings, edges, edgings, what’s in a word?’ he shrugged. Then he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. ‘The fact remains that you have been taking materials that belong to the works here. Works that I am now managing, Miss Carne.’

‘But I was given permission to take them,’ she protested, rising to her feet.

‘Not by me, you weren’t. As far as I’m concerned, you have taken property that doesn’t belong to you. Worse, you have been profiteering from it. The question is, what am I to do about it?’ he asked. There was something about the way he was studying her, almost as if he was assessing her, that made her feel increasingly uneasy.

‘I don’t like the word profiteering, sir,’ she protested, endeavouring to keep her voice steady.

‘Nor do I, Miss Carne, and I shall have to give serious thought to the matter. Be on your way. You’ll hear from me further when I have decided what action to take.’

‘Action?’ she cried.

‘Indeed,’ he agreed, that gleam sparking in his eyes as he once again addressed her chest. Angrily she began to collect up the cuttings and trinkets, only for him to shake his head.

‘Leave those here where they belong,’ he added, before waving her away. Remembering the long hours she’d toiled polishing the rock until it gleamed with colour, she opened her mouth to protest, but he’d already turned back to the papers on his desk.

Feeling sick to the stomach, Colenso left the office, instinctively heading for the workshop. Then fearful that Ferret Fenton might be watching, she veered sharply towards the track. It wouldn’t do to get Kitto into trouble. Besides, it was Monday, the day she helped Emily Tucker with her sewing and she couldn’t let the old lady down. At least the work would be indoors, she thought. Like most women in the village, she was adept at juggling different jobs to earn a few extra pence, only knowing what day of the week it was by where she was meant to be.

As experienced dressmakers, Emily and Clara had built up a thriving business visiting ladies in their houses and measuring them for their new clothes. Sadly, Clara had recently succumbed to influenza, leaving Emily snowed under with unfinished orders. Knowing Colenso to be a dab hand with the needle, her mamm had offered her services in return for a few shillings and offcuts of material. Offcuts, the word kept sounding in her head as she sped down the lanes of Ruan. How dare that horrid man Fenton accuse her of stealing.

By the time she let herself into Emily’s stone cottage with its thatched roof badly in need of repair, Colenso was red with rage. The front room that best got the light had been turned into a sewing room, and Emily, silver tendrils escaping her bun, and customary tape around her neck, was already about her work, a roll of crêpe cloth on the stool beside her. She looked up from a swathe of black serge spread out on the table in front of her.

‘Ah, there yer are, Colenso. I thought yer weren’t coming,’ she muttered through a mouthful of pins.

‘I’m sorry but I had to …’ Colenso began.

‘Tell me later, lover. Got a new order, as if I haven’t enough already,’ she moaned good-naturedly. ‘Lady Carwell’s mother died at the weekend and I’ve been commissioned to make her mourning outfits. Her driver is calling for them later today so if yer can sew a veil to the back of that whilst I finish here that would be grand,’ she said, waving her hand towards a fur hat on the dresser that was somehow squeezed into the corner of the room.

‘Everyone wants things yesterday,’ Colenso grumbled, still out of sorts after her visit with Fenton.

‘Well, the poor woman didn’t ask to die,’ Emily replied with a reproving look.

‘No, of course not,’ Colenso murmured and, feeling chastened, settled down to her task. She began stitching, her needle stabbing in and out of the fabric as if she was poking that horrid Ferret in the eyes. She didn’t know what was worse, his creepy staring at her chest or being accused of theft. After a while, her nerves began to settle and she found herself sewing in time to the ticking of the little ormolu clock on the shelf above her.

‘Ther’s done,’ Emily said some time later, shaking out the folds of the mourning dress and eyeing it critically. ‘Her Ladyship’s going to wear her black fur over it for the funeral tomorrow. If yer’ve finished that, yer can add some tulle to the neck and wrists,’ she said, passing over the folded garment while casting a critical eye over Colenso’s work. ‘Now, I’ll makes us a hot drink and then yer can tell me why yer were fuming like a chimney when yer arrived.’ Colenso watched as the woman got awkwardly to her feet. Judging by her red-rimmed eyes and stiff back, she’d been up working for hours.

‘Would you like me to do it?’ she asked, feeling guilty for bringing her earlier bad mood into the room.

‘No, ta, me lover. It’ll do me good to stretch me old bones. Besides I need the privy,’ she added with a girlish grin.

As Emily shuffled stiffly towards the door, Colenso unfolded the tulle and began pinning it onto the dress. Even plain black serge could look attractive when it was good quality and nicely trimmed, she mused. Her thoughts turned to what she was going to wear for her handfasting ceremony. A deep red would be in keeping and complement her dark looks, or perhaps purple with flowing sleeves. The ties that would bind her and Kitto together could be made in matching material. Perhaps Emily would advise her, though of course she wouldn’t say anything until she’d spoken to her mamm. With any luck her father would spend the evening in the hostelry and they could begin making plans in peace. Although it would be some time before Kitto finished his apprenticeship and his siblings were settled, it was exciting to think that one day she would become his wife.

‘Here we are, lover, chamomile tea to soothe your mood, though yer looking brighter now,’ Emily said, eyeing her shrewdly as she set the tray carefully on the shelf. ‘Best put yer sewing down, don’t want Her Ladyship’s dress getting stained. ‘Made us a bit of luncheon while I was at it.’