A Mother's Promise

by Dilly Court

  Granny thumped the teapot down on the kitchen table and the teacups rattled on their saucers. ‘It’s Hetty. She’s gone all grand on us and wants to take young Dorrie for a lady’s maid, of all things. I can’t look after the child as well as working in the market. At my age I should be sitting by the fire with my feet up all day, not slaving away on a coffee stall.’

  Tom shot a questioning glance at Hetty. ‘What’s all this, Hetty?’

  ‘I’m to start looking for suitable premises tomorrow, Tom. Miss Heathcote says I’ve got to look respectable. I’ll be dealing with businessmen and she says I ought to have a maid to chaperone me. It seems a bit of a palaver to me, but I expect she’s right.’

  For a moment Hetty was afraid that he was going to side with Jane and Granny. He thought for a moment and then he nodded his head. ‘I think the old girl is right. You shouldn’t go round the City on your own. We all know what Clench tried to do to you and there’s plenty more ruffians like him.’

  ‘But, Tom,’ Jane protested, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I can’t manage the coffee shop and look after baby, especially now she’s started toddling.’

  He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the tip of her nose. ‘Of course you can’t, poppet. But it just so happens that my sister Marie has had a tiff with her boss in the pub over Wapping way, and she’s come home to live. Apparently the fellow had wandering hands and he tried to take advantage of her, so she slapped his face and walked out.’

  ‘Good for her,’ Hetty said with feeling.

  Tom grinned. ‘Well, the Crewe girls are a spunky lot and she won’t stand for any old nonsense. What I suggest is that Marie helps Jane in the coffee shop, since she’s had experience working in the pub, and Sally can look after Talia. She’s a born mother is that one and she’d be happy to play nursemaid.’

  ‘That sounds good to me,’ Hetty said, turning to Jane. ‘What do you think?’

  Jane shrugged her shoulders. ‘Do I have a choice? It seems you two can manage things perfectly well without me.’

  ‘Stop being a moody little mare,’ Granny scolded. ‘Tom offers a perfectly good suggestion and you show him a sulky face. Serve you right if he changed his mind and found himself another girl.’

  Nora was sitting in her usual seat by the fire with a cup of tea in her hand. She nodded wisely, saying nothing.

  With a throaty chuckle, Tom patted Granny on the shoulder. ‘If I was twenty years older, you would be the one for me, Granny, but Jane’s my girl and I love her, even if she is a bit grumpy sometimes.’

  Jane pushed him away half-heartedly. ‘Oh, get on with you, Tom.’

  He ignored the rebuff and slid his arm around her waist. ‘You like Marie, don’t you, Janey?’

  ‘Yes, I like her well enough. But she has to know that I’m in charge,’ Jane said pouting.

  Hetty sighed with relief. ‘Thank goodness. That’s settled then. Tomorrow, Dorrie and me will go out together and conquer London.’

  ‘Boastful talk,’ Granny muttered. ‘Don’t get too big for your boots, miss.’

  Sammy had been listening to all this with his head on one side, his round steel-rimmed spectacles giving him an owlish look. ‘Will your feet really grow bigger when you conquer London, Hetty?’

  She ruffled his hair and smiled down into his serious face. ‘No, Sammy. It’s just a manner of speaking. I’ll always be the same Hetty as I was when we lived in Autumn Road and we made matchboxes for a living.’

  ‘We won’t have to do that again, will we?’ Sammy asked anxiously.

  ‘No, love. Never again.’ Hetty squeezed his hand. ‘Why don’t you go and play with the boys until supper is ready?’

  He hesitated. ‘When you’ve got your string of coffee shops, can I leave school and come and help you?’

  ‘When you’re older, of course you can.’

  ‘You get book learning, boy,’ Granny said, pursing her lips and frowning. ‘You work hard at school and make something of yourself. You aim to be a professional man, never mind being in trade.’

  Hetty suppressed a smile. ‘But that’s just what we are, Granny. We’re in trade, like it or not, and I’m going to make a fortune or die in the attempt.’

  Next day, Hetty dressed with extra care in a gown of fine merino trimmed with braid in a military style, which set off her slim figure to its best advantage. The deep shade of blue brought out the violet hue of her eyes, or so the shop assistant had said, and Hetty had been pleased to believe her. Her blue mantle was trimmed with Persian lamb, and a matching hat sat at a jaunty angle on top of the elaborate coiffure executed by Dorrie’s nimble fingers. Hetty was not particularly vain, but when she saw her reflection in one of the wall mirrors in Miss Heathcote’s grand entrance hall she hardly recognised herself, and she wished with all her heart that Charles could see her now.

  With Dorrie seated beside her, looking very pleased with herself in her smart new clothes, Hetty set off to look at the first property on the list. The spanking Victoria was driven by a coachman who had been elevated from the position of under groom in Miss Heathcote’s stables, and had been given strict instructions to look after the young ladies.

  When they stopped at the first premises Hetty was greeted by an obsequious middle-aged gentleman with a balding pate and a pinstripe suit which smelt strongly of mothballs. He showed her around the empty shop, extolling the virtues of being so close to Liverpool Street station. Hetty decided that it was a good deal too close to the station. For one thing the floor-boards vibrated every time a train ground to a halt at the buffers, and when the engine let off steam the piercing shriek of the whistle echoed throughout the building. The smell of hot cinders and smoke pervaded the atmosphere in a choking fog which would put anyone off their meal. She listened politely to the agent’s sales pitch, made notes in the leather-bound book that Miss Heathcote had given her for the purpose, and she assured him that she would give the premises her full consideration. She explained that she had other places to inspect but she would send him word when she had made her final decision.

  ‘A definite no,’ she told Dorrie as they climbed back into the Victoria. ‘Drive on, Peters.’

  At the end of the day Hetty had visited no less than six of the places on Miss Heathcote’s list. She had written copious notes and had made sketches of the interiors which she intended to turn into scale drawings, together with ideas for their design and refurbishment. For the rest of the week, Hetty and Dorrie continued their search, travelling as far north as King’s Cross and as far west as the Strand. Hetty spent all of Saturday and Sunday working on the plans for the premises which she considered to be most suitable, and on Monday morning she took them to Miss Heathcote for her consideration. By the end of the afternoon, when the light had faded and the curtains were drawn against the winter dusk, they had finally agreed on three properties.

  ‘I think we should celebrate,’ Miss Heathcote said, reaching for the bell pull. ‘Would you like tea or something a little stronger, Hetty?’

  Hetty’s throat was parched and her head was aching after their long discussion, and she was tired. ‘A cup of tea would be lovely, but I should be getting home.’

  Miss Heathcote frowned. ‘You must stay for dinner, Hetty. There is more to discuss.’

  ‘I have to get home. They’re expecting me and they’ll worry if I’m late.’

  ‘Nonsense, you must have a life of your own. You need to escape from the stranglehold that those people have on you.’

  Hetty could see that Miss Heathcote was going to be difficult and she rose to her feet. ‘They are my family, Miss Heathcote. I want to go home.’

  ‘You want to leave me to eat alone, yet again. You don’t care what happens to me. I am just a convenient source of funds to you.’

  Hetty moderated her tone. ‘You know that isn’t true. We are business partners, but that doesn’t mean I have to neglect my family or treat them badly.’

  ‘And yet you treat me badly. I want you to s
tay for dinner. No, actually I insist that you stay to dinner.’ A smart rap on the door halted this anguished tirade and Miss Heathcote took a deep breath. ‘Enter.’

  The door opened and Minnie hurried into the room, closely followed by Dorrie, who shot an enquiring look at Hetty. ‘Yes, we will be leaving shortly,’ Hetty said in answer to the unspoken question.

  ‘No!’ Miss Heathcote screamed, slamming her hand down on the arm of her chair. ‘You will not be leaving shortly; you will be staying for supper. And then we will talk about your moving into this house. I cannot have you living in that slum or keep sending the Victoria for you every day. It is quite ridiculous.’

  Minnie gave a nervous cough. ‘You wanted something, ma’am.’

  ‘Yes. Tell Cook there will be two of us for supper this evening.’

  ‘No, Minnie,’ Hetty said firmly. ‘I am afraid that I cannot stay. Please send word to the stables for Peters to bring the Victoria round to the front entrance.’

  ‘What?’ Miss Heathcote shrieked. ‘Are you giving orders to my staff in my house? How dare you?’

  Hetty packed the papers away into a folder and she stood her ground. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, but if you will not listen to me, then I must speak out.’

  ‘Supper for two in the dining room, Minnie.’ Miss Heathcote dismissed her with an imperious wave of her hand and Minnie fled from the room.

  Dorrie was left standing in the doorway, staring open-mouthed at Miss Heathcote, who had half risen from her chair and was visibly shaking with rage. ‘You will do as I tell you, Hetty. Send the girl away and sit down.’

  ‘Miss Heathcote, I will not,’ Hetty replied, forcing herself to appear calm although she felt far from comfortable. She could see that Miss Heathcote was working herself up into one of her tantrums, but she was not going to give in. ‘Calm yourself, please, ma’am. You will only make yourself ill.’

  ‘You will do as I say. Everyone does as I say or I will make myself sick. I will be obeyed.’ Miss Heathcote opened her mouth and began to scream.

  Dorrie ran the length of the room, and before Hetty could stop her she slapped Miss Heathcote hard across the cheek. Hetty gasped in horror as Miss Heathcote swayed on her feet and fell back against the cushions clutching her face. Her eyes were wide and staring and her mouth open as if she was still screaming, but no sound came from her throat.

  Unrepentant, Dorrie took her by the shoulders and gave her a good shake. ‘What sort of behaviour is that for a grown woman? I wouldn’t let me little brothers act up like that and you’re a grown woman who ought to know better.’

  Hetty rushed forward to lay a restraining hand on Dorrie’s shoulder. ‘That’s enough. Let her be.’

  Dorrie stepped away from the chair, shaking her head. ‘She’s all right. She just needed to be brought to her senses. I’ll get her a drop of brandy, that’ll put the colour back in her cheeks.’ She hurried across the room to select a decanter from a side table, and she poured a measure into a cut-crystal glass.

  Hetty knelt down in front of Miss Heathcote, more alarmed by her silence than by her hysterical outburst. She clasped her cold, claw-like hands and chafed them. ‘Miss Heathcote, are you all right? Please say something. Dorrie didn’t mean to strike you. She’s just a child.’

  Miss Heathcote’s eyes slowly focused on Hetty’s face. ‘She hit me.’

  ‘Yes, and it was wrong of her.’

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Miss Heathcote said, pulling her hands away from Hetty’s grasp. ‘Girl, Dorrie, whatever your name is. Come here.’

  Dorrie approached her holding out the glass. ‘Brandy. Take a sip; it’ll make you feel better.’

  Hetty was about to snatch the glass from Dorrie, but Miss Heathcote’s hand shot out and she seized it, took a large mouthful and swallowed the brandy with a sigh. ‘Quite right. I needed that for shock. I could have you arrested for common assault, my girl.’

  ‘I had to do it,’ Dorrie said calmly. ‘You would have suffered a spasm if I hadn’t slapped you round the chops. I’m sorry, miss, but you can’t say it didn’t work.’

  Hetty held her breath. She was certain that Miss Heathcote would call a constable and have Dorrie arrested, but to her considerable surprise Miss Heathcote’s face crumpled into a grimace and she cackled with laughter. ‘Oh, you little witch. You’re quite right, of course, but no one has ever dared to strike me before. The only person who has stood up to me is Hetty, and now you.’ Tears were running down her hollow cheeks and Hetty took the empty glass from her hands and thrust it at Dorrie.

  ‘Best get her another drop to calm her nerves.’

  Dorrie shook her head. ‘No, miss. I seen the effects of strong liquor on me dad before he took sick and died. A little drop of brandy is like medicine, a lot of brandy is like poison. That’s what he done – poisoned hisself with strong drink and dropped dead. We don’t want the same thing to happen to her, now do we?’

  ‘I think I can take another small measure,’ Miss Heathcote said, wiping her eyes on a lace handkerchief. ‘Get me another drink and then sit down, child. I want to hear about your father. Perhaps we have more in common than I thought possible.’

  ‘No, miss,’ Dorrie said firmly. ‘Another time maybe, but we got to get home. There’s always tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes,’ Miss Heathcote said slowly. ‘There’s always tomorrow. I want you to consider removing to this address, Hetty. The child can come too. I find her interesting.’

  Hetty was not about to argue and cause another emotional outburst. She attempted a smile. ‘We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Miss Heathcote. But now I think you ought to rest. You’ve worked hard today and so have I.’

  ‘Yes, we have worked hard, but tomorrow we will work even harder. You will visit ware-houses in order to select the fixtures and fittings for the new premises, and we will have to find wholesalers and suppliers of fresh produce for the coffee shops. You won’t have time to worry about that family of yours, Hetty.’

  Miss Heathcote’s words proved to be prophetic. In the weeks that followed, Hetty and Dorrie were kept fully occupied with the business of setting up the coffee shops. They became a familiar sight driving round the streets of East London in the Victoria with Peters standing guard over them when they did business in the warehouses around the docks. Hetty still kept an eye on the premises in Artillery Lane and often had to sort out the bitter quarrels that sprang up between Jane and Marie, as they seemed to disagree about everything and both wanted to be in charge. In the end Hetty had to ask Tom to intervene but he declined, saying that he would rather be flung into a lion’s den than face two angry women, particularly if one of them was his intended and the other his elder sister. In the end it was Granny who came up with the solution, and Hetty put Marie in charge of the newly opened coffee shop in London Wall. The business in Artillery Lane was making enough profit for them to hire a girl from the Foundling Hospital, who was well trained in matters domestic, to look after Natalia, which left Sally free to help Jane. Hetty was beginning to realise that handling staff was going to be one of the most challenging aspects of her new venture.

  In May, two more coffee shops were ready to open for business, one in Broad Street and the other in Fenchurch Street. The shop in London Wall was already doing a brisk trade and Miss Heathcote was so delighted with their progress that she instructed Hetty to find three more suitable premises. By now Hetty had established a good working relationship with the managers of the various furniture and fabric warehouses, and as each coffee shop was fitted out in exactly the same style all she had to do was to put in a repeat order. Miss Heathcote’s prompt settlement of their invoices made them all the more eager to give good service. Hetty now had a team of artisans who could do the necessary alterations, repairs and decoration in the minimum amount of time. She spent her days going from one coffee shop to the next, inspecting the books, checking on sales and sorting out the inevitable problems with staff. As she became more experienced, she grew more adept in selecting the girl
s and women who were to work for her, and was able to spot trouble-makers at an early stage. This often meant giving them their marching orders but she always tried to be fair, giving them a second chance and only resorting to sacking a person if she did not mend her ways. This was Hetty’s least favourite part of the job, but for the most part she enjoyed using her wits to make the company a success, and it seemed that her endeavours were paying off when, at the end of the first six months’ trading, Miss Heathcote announced that they had made a healthy profit.

  Although Hetty had resisted Miss Heathcote’s suggestion that she and Dorrie should move into the house in Berkeley Square, she had allowed herself to be persuaded to set up an office in the ground-floor room that Miss Heathcote’s late father had used as a study. It was relatively small compared with the rest of the reception rooms, but it was cosy and the walls were lined with shelves crammed with books on every subject imaginable. Hetty had no time to read anything other than business letters and account books, but she liked the cosy feeling of being surrounded by leather-bound volumes. There was a certain musty odour from the bindings and the dusty smell of old paper, which was oddly homely and reminded her a little of the attic room in Princelet Street.

  Despite the fact that she was now earning good money, Hetty spent very little on herself and she still slept in the attic room, but now she shared it with Sammy, Eddie, Wilfred and Stanley. She gave Nora a generous sum for their keep but the rest of her money was safely tucked away in the leather pouch beneath the loose floorboard under her mattress. Hetty’s experiences with Clench and Henry Maitland had led her to distrust banks, and it worried her that Miss Heathcote still entrusted much of her business to Maitland. When Hetty had again tried to warn her against him, Miss Heathcote had grown angry and declared that she had known Henry Maitland all her life and that he had always handled her affairs to her complete satisfaction. Hetty was not happy about this but all her efforts to persuade Miss Heathcote to transfer some of their money to another bank fell on deaf ears.