A Mother's Promise

by Dilly Court

  ‘There’ll be another baby on the way soon, you mark my words,’ Nora said, with her great gusty laugh.

  ‘Oh, no. Surely not.’ Even as the words left her lips, Hetty knew that what Nora said was probably true. Jane’s heart would always rule her head. We are so unalike, Hetty thought with a tinge of sadness. I am the exact opposite of Jane. My head rules my heart – but someone in the family has to be practical and sensible.

  Next day, Hetty left the house laden with two baskets filled with Jane’s slab cake and rock buns for the coffee shop. She was just unlocking the door when Sally came hurrying down the street with her shawl flapping and her bonnet strings flying out behind her. ‘So you decided to come back,’ Hetty said, smiling.

  ‘It’s me job, ain’t it?’ Sally replied with a cheeky grin. ‘I done well on Christmas Eve, didn’t I?’

  ‘That you did,’ Hetty agreed. ‘And I’m glad to see you, Sally. Come in. I’ve got a lot to tell you.’ She opened the door and went inside. The room was stuffy and filled with the over-powering smell of stale tea, fresh paint and carbolic soap. Despite the cold outside, Hetty opened the windows and left the door ajar in order to air the room. She lit the fire pots beneath the boilers and sent Sally into the scullery to fetch a broom and a mop. As they worked, she explained the situation to her. ‘I’ll work here all day, but as soon as we close I have to go and see Miss Heathcote and give her my answer.’

  Sally leaned on the broom handle. ‘What are you going to tell her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hetty replied, shaking her head. ‘I just don’t know.’

  ‘I couldn’t manage on me own just yet, Hetty. Maybe I could later on, when I’ve had a bit more practice, but I’d get muddled with the money and I’d panic if there was a queue waiting to be served.’

  ‘Don’t look so worried, love. I wouldn’t expect you to cope by yourself. Jane would be here to run things.’

  Sally pulled a face. ‘Oh, well. I suppose I’ll have to get used to having her around anyway, seeing as how Tom is sweet on her.’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘Of course I knew. Hasn’t he been spending more time round your place than his own home? We hardly ever see him nowadays.’

  Hetty turned away to lay a clean cloth on one of the tables. It was silly to feel piqued and she knew it, but once, not so long ago, it had been she whom Tom had courted, and now he was as good as engaged to her sister. Charles had not written for weeks. Perhaps all men really were as fickle and untrustworthy as Miss Heathcote had said.

  ‘Penny for ‘em?’ Sally said, chuckling.

  ‘I was wondering what was keeping the baker’s boy. We should have had the bread and rolls delivered by now. Will you go to the bakery round the corner, please, Sal? Find out what’s keeping him.’

  Sally grabbed her shawl from the peg and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘I’ll go right away.’

  ‘And you might call in at the grocer’s shop and remind him I ordered boiled ham, a truckle of cheddar cheese and two pounds of butter.’

  ‘Right you are.’

  As the shop door closed behind Sally, Hetty lit the gas mantles so that a warm glow filled the room. The fizzing and popping of the gas made companionable sounds, and outside the city street was coming to life with horse-drawn traffic and pedestrians hurrying on their way to work. The water in the boilers was starting to bubble and the room was feeling a little warmer now. Soon, Hetty hoped, they might have the first customers of the day: men who had just come off night shift and wanted a cup of something hot to help them on their way, or perhaps clerical workers who had arrived on an early train and had not had time to eat breakfast before leaving the suburbs. It was still very early days and she was unsure as to the exact nature of her clientele. She could only hope and pray that trade continued to be as good as it had been at the start.

  It was still dark outside and the snow had turned to a steady drizzle. While she waited for Sally’s return, Hetty went behind the counter to arrange the cakes on plates beneath glass domes. She was intent on her task when the door opened and the bell jangled on its spring. She looked up expecting to see Sally or at least one of the delivery boys, but it was George who came in carrying a wicker basket filled with watercress. ‘Hello, Hetty. I was passing the door so I thought I’d drop this in for you.’

  She knew him well enough to realise that this was his way of apologising and she smothered a sigh of relief. ‘Liar! It’s well out of your way.’

  His lips twisted into a wry smile. ‘That’s not the way to speak to your ex-partner, Miss Huggins.’

  She moved slowly round the counter, holding out her hands to take the basket from him. ‘I hoped we were still partners.’

  ‘It’ll be Huggins and Cooper in name only from now on, girl. You deserve your chance and you’ve got to grab it with both hands. I ain’t one to stand in your way.’

  There was a note of finality in his voice that made her blood run cold. ‘But I still need you, George.’

  He reached out to caress her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘You go ahead and do what you think right, and I’ll keep my doubts to myself.’

  ‘Oh, George!’ Choked by tears, Hetty dropped the basket on the floor and she flung her arms around his neck. The coarse woollen material of his jacket was pearled with rain-drops and the smell of wet wool mingled with the scent of apples and damp earth. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Huggins and Cooper it will always be. Never mind what Miss Heathcote says.’

  ‘You tell the old besom that, girl. If it don’t work out then you know where to find me, but I think it’s best if we don’t see too much of each other for the time being.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Hetty unclasped her hands and stepped away from him. ‘Why can’t things be like they always were?’

  ‘You’re moving up in the world, Hetty.’

  ‘But that’s silly. It won’t make any difference to us.’ She met his gaze with a sinking heart. ‘You will still come round to Princelet Street, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t think that would be good for either of us.’

  ‘But you’re my best friend and I still want you as my business partner.’

  ‘Best friend, of course; business partner in name only. You know that’s the way it must be.’

  ‘It’s not so very different, George. Nothing has changed between us.’

  The smile faded from his eyes. ‘No, and that’s the trouble.’

  Hetty stared at him, nonplussed. ‘I really don’t understand why you’re being like this.’

  ‘Don’t you, girl? Then there’s no point in me telling you.’

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he laid his finger on her lips. ‘Tell me one thing honestly. Are you still hankering after that damn Yankee Doodle fellow?’

  ‘I – well, yes. I do miss Charles, but what has that to do with you and me?’

  ‘First it was Tom you was sweet on and then along comes the Yankee. There never was a time when you looked on me as anything other than a pal, and now you’ve taken up with Miss Heathcote. Soon you won’t want to know old George, the costermonger from Spitalfields market. I know when I’m beaten, Hetty.’

  ‘You’re so wrong. I care about you a lot and I’ll always be your friend.’

  ‘That’s the pity of it,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘I’ll be around if you should need me, but I can’t stand seeing you slip away from me inch by inch. Goodbye, Hetty.’ He left the shop and the bell was still tinkling long after he had disappeared into the gloom.

  Hetty bit her lip as tears welled up into her eyes. This was a situation that she could never have foreseen. She loved Charles with all her might but George was an important part of her life. She could not imagine going on without him. Why couldn’t they just be friends? Why did he have to spoil everything by being so difficult?

  She tried to carry on where she had left off, but her vision was blurred with unshed tears, and she went to make a pot of tea, which was Grann
y’s answer to every situation imaginable. It was only when the tea was brewing that she realised there was no milk and she had forgotten to tell Sally to fetch some from the dairy. Hetty found herself sobbing because there was no milk for her tea. She was not crying because George had abandoned her. If he was being pig-headed and stupid, that was his business. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her apron. George wouldn’t stay away for long, and by next week he would probably have fallen in love with a pretty redhead or a blowsy blonde. Somehow that thought made her feel better – it was easier to brand him as a hopeless flirt than to accept that his feelings for her were genuine. He would return, she knew he would, and things would be the same as they ever were.

  She had calmed down by the time Sally returned with the baker’s boy, closely followed by the lad from the grocer’s shop with the ham, cheese and butter. Hetty sent Sally out again to buy the milk, and soon the first customers of the day began to come through the door. Hetty was too busy then to dwell on her personal problems.

  At the end of a long and profitable day, she said goodbye to Sally and she was just locking up when Milton brought Miss Heathcote’s carriage to a halt outside the shop.

  ‘Huggins and Cooper!’ Miss Heathcote spat the words out as if they had a bad taste. ‘No such thing. That man has nothing to do with our business venture.’

  Hetty stood with her hands clasped tightly behind her back. ‘No, but I think it sounds better than just Huggins alone and it was George who helped me to get started. If I am to come in with you, my only condition is that we keep that name.’

  Miss Heathcote’s silver eyebrows drew together in a knot over her pointed nose and her eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Do you defy me, Hetty?’

  ‘In this, I do. I am willing to work with you, Miss Heathcote, but you said that the business would be mine and that you only wanted to prove a point to your board of directors.’

  Miss Heathcote seemed to subside into a small heap in her chair and her lips trembled. ‘Don’t bully me, Hetty. I am a poor cripple . . .’

  ‘You might have a twisted spine, Miss Heathcote, but you don’t fool me. You are as wayward and self-willed as I am, and I think that is why you chose me. I will go along with you in everything you say except in the matter of the name above the door. It will be Huggins and Cooper, Coffee Shops, or nothing.’

  Miss Heathcote’s face puckered as if she were about to scream or cry, and Hetty braced herself for the outburst, but nothing came. Miss Heathcote glared at her for a moment and then a reluctant smile lit her pale eyes. ‘All right. I grant you that Huggins on its own does not have a ring to it, and Huggins and Heathcote, which does sound quite impressive, gives the game away, so I will concede this point to you. You may keep your name and his above the door, but that is as far as that man gets. I won’t have him interfering in our business. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Perfectly, Miss Heathcote. When do we start?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, first thing.’ Miss Heathcote reached for a silver-bound note-book, pen and ink. ‘I assume that you can read and write?’

  Hetty took the writing implements from her. ‘I may not speak like a toff, Miss Heathcote, but I ain’t ignorant.’

  ‘I am not ignorant,’ Miss Heathcote said automatically. ‘Very well then, write down the things that you must do, starting tomorrow morning. I have a list of premises in the East End that Mr Maitland has drawn up for me which I think might be suitable for further coffee shops.’

  ‘Mr Maitland!’ Hetty’s heart sank. ‘Why him?’

  ‘Are you questioning my wisdom?’

  ‘No, ma’am, it’s just that . . .’

  Miss Heathcote raised a thin hand. ‘Never mind your petty prejudices, my girl. Henry Maitland has handled my finances for twenty years and I trust him implicitly. If we are to get on together, Hetty, you must not question everything I say or do. Your part in all this is quite straightforward. You will visit the premises listed and use your own judgement as to which is the most suitable. We will begin with four coffee shops, concentrating on the heart of the City. If these prove successful, we will move into the Strand and finally into the West End. At every stage you will report back to me and I will give you further directions.’

  Hetty frowned. ‘It doesn’t sound as if I have much choice at all.’

  ‘You will have your chance to prove just how bright and clever you are, Hetty. But you must never underestimate me. I have a good brain in my head and a mind as sharp as any man. You will act as my eyes and ears and your healthy young body will take you to places where I may not go. To all intents and purposes the coffee shops will belong to you, but the real power behind the throne will be mine. Accept this for what it is, or else walk out of that door and never come back. The choice is yours, my dear.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hetty had made her choice and her life seemed to change overnight. Before Miss Heathcote would allow her to venture into the world of commerce, Hetty had to have a whole new wardrobe made for her. She underwent rigorous lessons in elocution and Miss Heathcote drilled her like a sergeant major in matters of etiquette. Her table manners were scrutinised, criticised and picked apart until she felt like throwing her dinner plate at her mentor’s head, and there were tedious sessions where she had to walk round the room with books balanced on her head in order to improve her deportment.

  It was fortunate that Miss Heathcote was not an early riser, as this gave Hetty an hour or two in the morning before Milton arrived to collect her in the carriage. It allowed her time in which to balance the books in the coffee shop, to check the stock and to make certain that Jane was coping with her new responsibilities. It was something of a relief to discover that Jane and Sally were getting along well together, and Granny was managing the stall in Spitalfields market as if she had spent her whole life as a costermonger. Dorrie helped out when needed, and she also kept an eye on Natalia. Wilfred and Stanley attended the ragged school with Sammy and Eddy, although Wilfred had been caught playing truant a couple of times and had received a sound telling off from George and the threat of a caning from Granny, which had apparently been enough to convince him that it was in his best interests to have at least a smattering of education.

  Hetty was glad that George had not abandoned them entirely, although he rarely visited the house in Princelet Street when she was at home. She was hurt by this and she missed his company more than she would have thought possible, but she had made her choice. She knew that she must either abide by her decision or abandon the whole project, and that would be to admit defeat. She was never going to give in; she had made her mind up to that. She would prosper and she would make herself into someone whom Charles would not be ashamed to introduce to his family.

  On a particularly wet day at the beginning of February Hetty was summoned to Miss Heath-cote’s drawing room. She found her huddled beneath a fur rug in her usual chair by a blazing fire. ‘I am not well today, Hetty,’ Miss Heathcote murmured. ‘I hate the winter and the constant damp and cold makes my back ache dreadfully.’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose you are, but how could a healthy young woman like you understand the torments that I have to suffer?’ Miss Heathcote waved a bony hand at her. ‘Sit down, please. You know that I hate people towering over me.’

  Hetty pulled up a footstool and sat down. ‘What did you want me for, Miss Heathcote?’

  ‘I called you here to tell you that the time has come for you to go out into the City and select suitable properties from those on my list. We’ve knocked the rough edges off you, although I doubt if you will ever lose that dreadful cockney accent entirely.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to. I won’t pretend to be something I’m not.’

  ‘And you won’t get far in business if people think you have just crawled out of the gutter.’ Miss Heathcote lay back against the cushions and closed her eyes. ‘Let us not argue about trifles. The fact is that I have purchased a Victoria phaeton to take you r
ound London, as I don’t want anyone to recognise my carriage. You will have your own coachman, and, for the sake of propriety, I think you ought to have a lady’s maid to accompany you. Do you know a person whom you could trust implicitly? We don’t want a gossiping, tittle-tattling maidservant who would tell the world our secret.’

  ‘A maid? I dunno about that.’

  ‘Grammar, Hetty.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t know how to treat a maidservant.’

  ‘Then you must learn. Surely there is some young girl of your acquaintance whom you could trust?’

  Hetty smiled. ‘There’s Dorrie, but she’s only a child.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Just so long as you have a chaperone of some sort. It is only for the sake of appearances.’ Miss Heathcote pointed to a purse lying on a table near Hetty. ‘There is enough money there to outfit the girl. Milton will take you to a suitable emporium this afternoon. Tomorrow you will go to the first address on my list, and so we will begin.’

  Taking Dorrie to be her maid proved more difficult than Hetty had thought possible. Granny was adamant that she could not manage the coffee stall and keep an eye on a toddler, and Jane was reluctant to take Talia to the coffee shop. In the end it was Tom who provided the solution. He arrived at the house that evening just after Hetty and Dorrie returned from their shopping expedition, and he walked in during the middle of a fierce argument between Hetty and Jane.

  ‘You just think about yourself,’ Jane cried angrily.

  ‘That’s not true,’ Hetty protested. ‘Talia is your child. You should take care of her.’

  ‘Well, you make such a fuss of her anyone would think she was yours.’ Jane sat down at the table, pouting. ‘I work me fingers to the bone in the shop. I’m on me feet all day long making sandwiches and pouring cups of tea and coffee. Sally and me haven’t had a minute to ourselves all day.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tom demanded, picking up Natalia, who had begun to cry at the sound of raised voices. ‘What’s all the fuss about?’