Stormy Days On Mulberry Lane

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Perhaps not – and I’m not sure I do know what I’m doing for the moment,’ Peggy replied thoughtfully. ‘I costed up what I thought would be a fair price for the rooms, the breakfasts and the evening meals when required – but it is too soon to know if I’m making a profit or just breaking even.’

  ‘Your breakfasts are generous, especially on Sundays,’ Pearl told her. ‘I haven’t eaten any of your suppers, so I’m not sure what you give the guests, but I’d wager it is value for money.’

  ‘It’s usually a casserole or a stew of some kind,’ Peggy said. ‘Occasionally, I do a proper roast or pie – and now that it is warmer, I’m offering a salad as an alternative. The men mostly want the cooked meal, though Alice enjoys a nice salad when I have the same.’

  ‘As I said, you know what you’re doing,’ Pearl told her. ‘I just wonder about the costings because I struggle to buy food as good as yours…’

  ‘I do get quite a few fresh vegetables,’ Peggy replied with a nod. ‘I always had gift boxes from friends’ allotments, even during the war. That’s why I like making soups and casseroles. They give a lot of lovely flavour and they often don’t cost me anything.’

  ‘But you always give your friends some of your cooking,’ Pearl pointed out. ‘It is as broad as it is long, Peggy.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Peggy agreed. She’d never considered that an apple pie given away was a part of her profit gone, but she knew the younger woman was correct to point it out. At the café, they hadn’t given much away and often put their profits back into the business, but here in the lanes it was different and Peggy enjoyed sharing her cooking amongst her friends and family. ‘It is a good thing that Able is in charge of the business ideas. I would fritter all the profits away!’

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t,’ Pearl said. ‘I got used to counting every penny when I worked at the accountants.’

  ‘Well, I think it is just because of the changeover,’ Peggy replied firmly. ‘We haven’t been fully booked, but once all the rooms are occupied, I shall see the takings rise.’

  ‘Of course, you will,’ Pearl agreed. She finished her tea, declined one of Peggy’s tarts and got up to leave. ‘I think I’ll walk down to the market and see if I can find a nice piece of fish for tea. Daisy loves home-cooked fish and chips.’

  Peggy nodded but sat staring at the cups for a moment before starting her preparations for jam making. Had she persuaded Able into making a bad move businesswise? In the pub, she’d always made a comfortable living for her family, but she knew it wasn’t quite happening for the boarding house yet, even though the bookings were looking better now.

  ‘It’s a good proposition,’ the agent told Able when he hesitated over the lease of the small warehouse. ‘You’ve got plenty of storage space and a good spot on the docks for loading and unloading. If you want to start up as an importer of foodstuffs, you couldn’t do better, I’m sure.’

  ‘I believe you, Mr Tomlinson,’ Able said. ‘The rent is reasonable and I like the square yardage you offer – but I haven’t quite made up my mind.’

  ‘Well, I should advise you not to hang about,’ the agent said and looked annoyed. He’d done his best to sell the warehousing space to Able and clearly didn’t like to be let down. ‘Space like this is in big demand and it won’t hang around long.’

  ‘No, I understand that,’ Able replied and frowned. He was in two minds over the idea, which would involve a lot of organisation and work to bring it about. There was also his second idea, which in some ways appealed more – it was just which was likely to be the better investment.

  Telling the agent, he would give the warehouse space more thought, he left the office and began to walk through sunny streets. London was recovering from the war at last. There was more and more building going on as the bomb sites were cleared. They had been empty, grass growing through what remained of buildings that had been wiped out by the heavy bombing raids, used only for billboards and sometimes rubbish tips. This morning, he’d seen three such sites being cleared – which brought him to his second idea.

  Able had done well from selling building sites in the States and earned quite a bit of money that he’d invested in various ways in his adopted country. He’d had the ruin in Mulberry Lane rebuilt and it was now let to a firm of bookbinders and he’d also bought a couple more ruins when no one else wanted them. One of those sites had recently been earmarked for clearance and rebuilding for a government project and Able had been offered a sum of money for its compulsory purchase; it was double what he’d paid so it showed him a profit and he was happy to let it go. However, the second site was larger and Able had an idea that it might be used to put up a block of flats – not the cheap variety that the councils often threw up, but a better class of housing that could either be sold for a handsome profit or let to tenants.

  Able wasn’t a builder himself. He had a good eye for style and for a business proposition, but he didn’t know how to cost a building project – especially something substantial. If he wanted to develop the site himself, he needed a partner. Someone he could trust and someone he liked – but he had to be sure that person was also up for the task.

  Tom Barton was a bit of a perfectionist. He was an excellent decorator and could turn his hand to anything – but could he handle a large construction site such as the one Able had in mind?

  Able owned the site and he had several thousand pounds to invest. He might need to borrow from a bank to complete the project, but he believed it would be possible if he put his assets up as a guarantee – but that meant there was no room for error. If he could be certain Tom was the man for the building job, he would know what he wanted to do – but there was just a little niggling doubt at the back of his mind. He didn’t want to risk losing the cottage or jeopardise Peggy’s business. She would eventually make a steady but modest profit for them and Able knew it was up to him to bring in the substantial money. His darling Peggy was too generous and giving to ever make huge profits from her business.

  So, take the warehouse space and bring in foodstuffs the country could do with, new different foods from America, Italy and Greece, things that the better restaurants would like to buy for their customers or risk everything for a building project that could end in disaster if it got out of hand?

  Able stopped to pick up a newspaper and saw the back page was still going on about England’s World Cup defeat by the United States. Why couldn’t the English accept when they lost a football match instead of treating it like a national disaster? He smiled wryly, because he’d been pleased when the USA won but had pretended he didn’t care for Freddie’s sake.

  His mind went back to his dilemma, wondering which way to go to give his family greater security. Able supposed the steadier project was the right one for him at the moment. He’d been offered slightly more than the government had paid for his other site by private developers. If he took the money, he would have plenty of spare cash to see them through and food always sold, but, there was a part of Able that liked the idea of taking a risk for better profits, and that block of flats could bring in a small fortune handled properly.

  Able liked Tom Barton. He was a good family man, devoted to his wife, children and friends, and undoubtedly much in demand as a builder and odd-job man. Able knew he could trust him – but would Tom see Able’s vision? Would he want to be a part of it if he was asked? Able knew he needed to make a decision soon, but for the moment, he couldn’t quite decide. He would speak to Tom, ask what he thought of the idea and if he said he wasn’t interested he would invest in the food warehouse.

  6

  ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ Peggy asked as she went into Gillian’s room. The girl had put on a skirt Rose had sent for her and a pale-yellow twinset that Janet had discarded when she married, because the colour didn’t suit her. The buttercup shade suited Gillian very well and, with her hair freshly washed and combed, the colour gradually returning to her cheeks, and some rest, she was beginning to look much b
etter. Perhaps she would actually get up that day rather than say vaguely she might and then stay in bed. She was, Peggy thought, a pretty girl, or would be once the haunted look had gone from her eyes and her body began to recover from what must have been near starvation, though as yet she hadn’t ventured further than her own room to Peggy’s knowledge, other than to visit the bathroom. ‘I think you look less tired.’

  ‘I feel much better thanks to you,’ Gillian said and gave her a look that came close to adoration and made Peggy feel strangely uncomfortable. ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.’

  ‘I did very little,’ Peggy replied, because it was the truth. ‘Anyone with a scrap of decency would’ve done the same. I was glad to help, Gillian.’ She smiled at her. ‘So, now you’re feeling better, what are we going to do with you?’

  She saw a sudden flash of fear in the girl’s eyes. ‘Do you want me to leave?’ she asked, looking as if she would burst into tears.

  ‘No, of course not. You can stay as long as you need to,’ Peggy reassured her and saw the panic fade from her face. ‘But you can’t want to stay cooped up in this small room – I meant, it might be nice to come down and look round the boarding house? You’re not up to doing much yet, but you could go for a little walk in the sunshine?’

  ‘No! I don’t want to go out.’ Gillian’s answer was swift.

  Peggy understood and nodded. ‘You’re afraid that bully will come after you, aren’t you?’

  Tears appeared in Gillian’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she nodded. ‘Yes—’ her voice was barely a whisper. ‘If he caught me, he would kill me…’

  ‘Well, he won’t know where to look, will he?’ Peggy said in a calm, even voice. ‘You told me he lives over in Bermondsey, so he’s not likely to see you if we walked to the corner shop together.’

  ‘I would rather not go out,’ Gillian said and sent her a pleading look. ‘Please, Peggy, don’t make me go out…’

  ‘No, of course I shan’t, not if you don’t want to – I just thought it would do you good to get out and talk to people.’

  ‘I could walk in your yard, couldn’t I?’ Gillian said and smiled at her winningly. ‘I know you do a lot of cooking, Peggy. I’m not a cook, but I could help you prepare things… if you would let me?’

  ‘I’ll be only too happy to let you,’ Peggy replied. ‘I can always do with a little help, especially now all the rooms are filling up. I shall have twelve guests at a time staying now – some are travelling salesmen, but the others are families up from the county to see the sights of London.’

  Gillian nodded and looked easier. ‘I know there are two sets of stairs – one leads down to your kitchen and the other goes to the main reception rooms…’

  Peggy agreed, because it was how the house had been set up. Gillian’s room wasn’t far from her own family’s apartments; it was the reason she’d chosen it so that the invalid wouldn’t be disturbed by guests coming and going. You had to walk round the corner to reach the main part of the guest accommodation and Gillian couldn’t know that unless she’d been to investigate. Her room had its own basin for washing and there was a cubbyhole next to it, where a toilet had been installed so that she didn’t have to use the main guests’ bathroom. Most of the rooms had their own handbasin installed in what had been either deep alcoves portioned off or sections of a spacious room, and there were two main bathrooms with a bath and basin and separate toilet. Tom had installed clever shower hoses on the taps in the baths for Peggy – which was very modern and innovative. The guests still had to go out to the nearest bathroom in the night, but they were all close to the bathrooms and it wasn’t too inconvenient.

  ‘Have you been exploring?’ Peggy asked Gillian now, because as far as she knew the girl hadn’t left her room.

  ‘Yes, last night,’ Gillian replied and looked anxious. ‘You don’t mind, Peggy? I felt restless and went for a little walk along the corridor and then I went down to the kitchen and got a glass of water.’

  ‘Of course, I don’t mind,’ Peggy told her. ‘I hadn’t thought you were well enough – but I’m glad you’re finding your way about, Gillian. If you want to come down to the kitchen for your breakfast, it will save Pearl bringing it up.’

  ‘Can I eat in the kitchen with you? Alice says she mostly eats in the dining room with the guests.’

  ‘Alice has been into see you, has she?’ Peggy nodded. Alice had asked whether she should and Peggy had left it up to her.

  ‘Oh yes, she is lovely,’ Gillian said and her smile lit up her eyes. ‘Is she your mother, Peggy? She loves you very much.’

  ‘No, she’s not my mother, but we’ve been friends for many years and I’m fond of her,’ Peggy said. ‘The twins love her and she is great friends with Able.’

  ‘Your husband and children—’ Gillian’s gaze flickered and she looked away. ‘I’ve heard them, but I haven’t seen them.’

  ‘I gave them strict instructions not to disturb you,’ Peggy smiled at her. ‘The twins can be noisy so I didn’t want them to upset you.’

  ‘Oh no, I like children,’ Gillian replied. ‘I was fond of my younger sisters… until they died…’

  ‘Oh, did you lose your sisters? What happened?’ Peggy asked in concern.

  ‘They caught a fever when they were six years old and died within a few days of each other – they were twins and they couldn’t live without each other.’

  ‘That is so sad,’ Peggy said sympathetically. ‘I am very sorry, Gillian – you’ve not had a happy life.’

  The girl shrugged, blinking back tears. ‘It wasn’t too bad until my mother died – and then it was just me and him…’ A little shudder went through her thin body. ‘I hate men – they’re evil.’

  ‘Some men can be evil,’ Peggy agreed, looking at her steadily. ‘I know some that aren’t – my husband Able and my friend Tom Barton, who carried you here, are both good men and many others around here are decent folk too.’

  ‘I’ve only found bad ones,’ Gillian replied, looking at her with a mixture of defiance and fear. ‘But perhaps the ones you like are all right.’

  ‘You’ve had a hard time,’ Peggy said gently. ‘I hope you will be able to learn to trust again, Gillian. Otherwise you may never find happiness.’

  ‘I don’t need men to find happiness,’ Gillian told her in a decisive tone. ‘I’m never going to marry anyone.’

  Peggy nodded. She wasn’t prepared to argue with Gillian over it. She could only do what was in her power to restore the girl’s health – but her mental state was something else. It sounded as if she needed help – specialist help from a doctor who understood her particular type of trauma. ‘I’m going down to start cooking,’ Peggy told her. ‘Pearl might want to do your room today – but she can do it while you’re downstairs.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Gillian said hastily. ‘I can keep it tidy – and I’ll clean it if you can tell me where you keep the cleaning stuff?’

  ‘Are you certain you feel up to it?’

  ‘Yes… I’d like to do it,’ Gillian said and gave her a shy smile. ‘I don’t want to be a trouble to you, Peggy.’

  ‘Believe me, you’re no trouble,’ Peggy said because the smile won her over and banished the doubts Gillian’s words had aroused. ‘Just concentrate on getting well and then you can help me about the house.’

  Leaving Gillian to get ready for her first daylight visit to the kitchen, Peggy was thoughtful as she went down the stairs. Her heart was touched by the young girl’s sufferings and the slight unease she’d felt when Gillian spoke of her hatred of men faded almost at once. It was only natural she should hate both her father and the man who had tried to abuse and enslave her; it didn’t mean she bore a grudge against all men, even though it had sounded that way. Besides, Peggy didn’t think there was a female of any age that could withstand Able’s pancakes and his infectious smiles. Once Gillian had met him and understood that he was gentle and kind, she would get over he
r prejudice.

  ‘Do you want me to clean Gillian’s room while she’s down?’ Pearl asked when Peggy told her the girl was coming down to the kitchen for her breakfast. She’d been serving the guests with toast and more coffee while Peggy was upstairs and there was a pile of washing-up soaking in the sink.

  ‘You get on with that, Pearl,’ Peggy told her. ‘Gillian wants to clean her own room, so I think we’ll let her. ‘You’ve got plenty to do making up the other beds and cleaning the guests’ rooms.’

  ‘I don’t find it tiring,’ Pearl said and smiled. ‘I enjoy having a little time with you, Peggy – and this is the best job I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Well, I certainly need your help at the moment,’ Peggy replied as Alice brought in a tray of used breakfast things and a request for more coffee for table five.

  ‘That’s the third pot they’ve had,’ Pearl remarked as Peggy obligingly made a fresh pot of deliciously fragrant coffee for the thirsty guests.

  ‘Well, I do tell them to ask if they want more,’ Peggy said and laughed. ‘I think it is mostly Mr Thomlinson. He really does love his coffee.’

  Pearl nodded but frowned and Peggy smiled inwardly. The bookkeeper in Pearl thought that she was being too generous in supplying unlimited coffee and tea for her guests within the price quoted for their stay, but Peggy knew from past experience that a reputation for good food and plenty of it, made for return visits and recommendations. She’d been known as a generous landlady at the Pig & Whistle and her trade had increased steadily when she was in full charge, despite the hardships of the war – besides, it was in her nature.

  She carried the pot through herself and discovered the gentleman sitting alone, his family having eaten their breakfast and gone off to their rooms. He smiled at her, thanking her.