The Best of Sisters

by Dilly Court

  With dogged determination, she had set about learning the trade of the ship chandler. In the beginning, she had made enemies, especially amongst the merchants and mill owners who had been Uncle Enoch’s church-going cronies. They had kicked up a fuss when Arnold had gone to collect their outstanding debts; they had bullied, threatened and cajoled but eventually, thanks to his lowering brow and iron fists, they had paid up. After that, Eliza had never allowed credit to anyone. She had tried to deal fairly with suppliers and customers alike and sometimes she had been swindled, cheated and defrauded, but it had all added to her learning and understanding of the business. She had become a familiar figure at auction sales, warehouses and trade exhibitions. She had learned how to cut a deal with men twice her age and she had done all this with Arnold at her side.

  ‘Morning, Miss Eliza.’

  Eliza turned with a cheery wave to acknowledge Jiggins, the rope maker, on his way to work near Limehouse Dock. This early in the morning, the docks and the river had a freshly washed look about them. The people of the night had gone to ground, and the air was cool and untainted by the stench that would gradually rise above the city in the heat of the day. Letting herself into the shop, Eliza took off her bonnet and shawl and laid them neatly on a shelf behind the counter. She peered into the mirror tucked in between a stack of ledgers and she patted her hair into place, tucking in a few wayward strands that refused to be confined in the chignon at the back of her head. She adjusted the high neck of her grey dress, touching the mourning brooch that contained a lock of her mother’s hair, a habit that she had almost unconsciously adopted. The brooch was her link to the past, to the people whom she had loved and lost; the simple act of touching it seemed to bring her closer to them.

  Satisfied that she looked neat, tidy and businesslike, Eliza set about inspecting the shelves and making sure that they were fully stocked before Arnold and Millie arrived. She had deliveries for Arnold to do that morning with the help of Millie, who was now sixteen, and an able assistant, keen to learn the chandlery trade. Ted still worked in the sail loft, although he seemed to Eliza to have aged suddenly and he left a great deal of the work to Davy, who was now a fully qualified sailmaker in his own right. He had chosen to stay on and work with Ted rather than seek employment elsewhere. Although she did not want to admit it, Eliza knew in her heart that Davy’s apparent lack of ambition was down to her. They had been close friends for as long as she could remember, and that was the trouble; Davy might have other ideas but she had always thought about him as a brother and even more so since Bart’s tragic death. It had taken five months for the letter to reach her. At first she had been overjoyed to receive a letter from him, informing her of his marriage to Daisy and the child that they were expecting. It was a letter full of love and hope, but the tear-stained postscript had been written by Daisy after Bart’s body had been dragged from the river. She related how his battered body had been found a couple of miles downstream, entangled in a mass of weed. Even in death, he had appeared to be smiling as he clutched the large gold nugget in his stiff fingers. Daisy had ended the letter abruptly at that point.

  Eliza had written back immediately, begging Daisy to come to London as soon as she was able, but she had never received a reply to her letter; she did not even know if Daisy had been safely delivered of her child. All she could do was hope that somewhere, on the far side of the world, Bart’s son or daughter was now a thriving, happy five-year-old. This made her even more determined to make a success of the business so that she would have something worthwhile to leave to Bart’s child. Eliza had decided long ago that she would never marry, and therefore would never have children of her own. With Freddie gone, she had no interest in the young men who had tried to find favour with her. She knew that she would never, could never, love anyone as she loved Freddie. The worst of it was that she did not even know if he was alive or dead: many convicts did not survive the long voyage out to Australia and who knew what privations he might have suffered if he had ever reached the penal colony. If he had survived, then he had probably forgotten all about her; she had been little more than a child when he was sentenced, and he could have had no idea what passions had burned in her young heart. If still alive, he would be a man in his prime and might even have taken a wife. Eliza had long since given up hope of ever seeing Freddie again, but that had not prevented him from haunting her dreams. She was now considered to be a young woman of property; there had been would-be suitors, both young and old, but she had dismissed them without a second thought.

  Opening the order book, Eliza sighed, not knowing quite what had brought about this melancholy host of memories and ghosts from the past. She must write up the delivery notes that she would pass on to Millie, who in turn would supervise Arnold loading up the wagon with the goods. Although he could neither read nor write, he had the ability to memorise the contents of each crate, sack and barrel, but Millie would accompany him on his rounds, checking off the items on the bill of lading to make sure that a dishonest quartermaster or mate didn’t cheat them.

  Eliza looked up as the doorbell jangled and she smiled as Millie and Davy entered the shop. Davy held the door, allowing Millie to pass, and she was laughing at something he had said. With her bonnet slipping off her head and the sunlight striking golden lights in her dark blonde hair, Millie bobbed a mock curtsey.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Don’t mention it, ma’am.’ Bowing from the waist, Davy grinned. ‘You’re a cheeky little monkey, Miss Turner. Best get to work.’

  Millie’s smile faded and a shadow passed across her face as if a cloud had momentarily blotted out the sun. Eliza stifled a sympathetic sigh; she could only guess at what Millie was feeling, but it was painfully obvious that her childish hero-worship for Davy had deepened into something much more adult. Davy, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious of Millie’s feelings, treating her in much the same way as he treated his sister Mary. Why, Eliza thought, was love so complicated? She might have locked her own heart away in a protective shell inside her breast, but that did not stop her feeling desperately sorry for Millie’s unrequited love for Davy. Perhaps it had been a mistake, allowing her to work in the shop? Maybe it would have been better if she had found her a place in service like Mary, who worked as a parlour maid for a silk merchant’s family in Islington. Eliza closed the order book and handed it to Millie with what she hoped was a cheerful smile. ‘Best make a start on this as soon as Arnold arrives.’

  ‘I told you she’d forget what day this is,’ Davy said, nudging Millie in the ribs. ‘I win.’

  Still smiling, but puzzled, Eliza looked from one to the other. ‘Win what? What have I forgotten?’

  Millie kissed her on the cheek. ‘It’s your birthday, silly. You’re so busy with your business that you’ve even forgotten what day it is. You’re twenty today, Liza. Really, really grown-up. Happy birthday.’

  From behind his back, Davy produced a slightly wilted bunch of jewel-bright asters. ‘Happy birthday, Liza. Here, best put these in water. They’ve come all the way from Ilford, picked fresh this morning so the coster told me.’

  ‘Ta. They’re lovely.’ Eliza buried her face in the spice-scented petals, and for no apparent reason, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

  ‘Give them to me and I’ll put them in water.’ Millie held out her hand. ‘They’ll brighten up the counter a treat.’

  Eliza swallowed hard, shaking her head. ‘It’s all right, dear. I’ll see to them. You’d better open up the back door for Arnold. He should be loading up the wagon and you need to check the goods or he’ll be sure to leave something behind.’

  ‘Work, work, work,’ Millie called cheerfully, as she made her way to the back of the store. ‘Can’t you ever take a day off?’

  Eliza turned away to search for a suitable container for the flowers but Davy caught her by the hand, holding it and looking into her eyes with a frown wrinkling his forehead. ‘She’s right, Liza. You never take a day off. You work
too hard, girl.’

  ‘And who would run the shop if I wasn’t here?’ She went to pull her hand away but Davy held it in a firm grasp.

  ‘There’s more to life than making money. When did you last have a bit of fun, Liza? Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I saw you laugh.’

  ‘Don’t talk soft. What’s got into you today?’ Eliza jerked her hand free and turned on her heel, walking to the back of the shop where she found a slightly battered tin jug. ‘Keep an eye on the shop for a minute, will you, Davy? While I fetch some water from the pump.’ Suddenly she needed to get out of the store and away from the spectres of the past that haunted every nook and cranny. It was stiflingly hot in the yard, the stinking, fly-ridden heat of August that wrapped itself around the city in a suffocating hug.

  Arnold had almost finished hefting the goods onto a hired wagon. He touched his cap and grinned when he saw her, but he carried on with his work. Millie was leaning over a large barrel with the order book spread out before her; she looked up, chewing the tip of her pen. ‘You could be nicer to Davy, you know.’

  Eliza tut-tutted as the water gushed from the pump, splashing her full skirt. ‘I dunno what you mean.’

  ‘He got up at crack of dawn to walk to market and get them flowers just for you. And he’s hired a private room at Paddy’s Goose tonight. It’s supposed to be a surprise party and he’s been saving up for months to pay for it. If you don’t turn up, Liza, I’ll never speak to you again. I mean it.’

  With cold water overflowing from the jug and spilling onto her boots, Eliza stared at Millie, momentarily stunned by this angry outburst. Such heated words, and the tone in which they were delivered, were as shocking as hearing a tiger’s roar coming from the mouth of a kitten. ‘I don’t want no fuss,’ she said, shaking out her damp skirts. ‘I’m not much of a one for parties.’

  ‘No, you go around with a long face, or else you got your head stuck in a ledger or studying the shipping news and thinking of business. You never think that there’s others what might like to have some fun, or give you a bit of a laugh. You treats poor Davy like he don’t matter, when you must know that he – he loves you with all his big, stupid heart.’ Bursting into tears, Millie threw the pen onto the ground and ran sobbing into the storeroom.

  ‘What’s up with her?’ Arnold stood in the gateway, scratching his head and frowning. ‘Have I done wrong, missis?’

  ‘No, no, not you, Arnold. It’s me. I’m afraid I’ve upset her.’

  ‘You never said you wasn’t coming to the party?’ Arnold stopped short, clamping his hand across his mouth. ‘Bugger it! I wasn’t supposed to tell.’

  ‘Never mind, I know all about the surprise party. Just go on the delivery.’ Picking up the book that Millie had abandoned, Eliza took out the copy of the ship’s order and handed it to Arnold. ‘You can do this one on your own, Arnold. I’m sure I can trust you.’

  He stared down at the piece of paper and a slow smile spread across his face. ‘Don’t worry, missis,’ he said, tapping his forehead. ‘I got it all up here.’ Chuckling to himself, he shambled out of the yard and climbed up onto the wagon.

  Eliza hurried back into the shop looking for Millie, only to find that Ted had just arrived and was ranting at his two young apprentices for being late. Dippy Dan stood in the doorway, sucking his thumb and shaking with fear, even though the tirade was not directed at him personally. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Eliza saw that they were on time, but it was no use trying to argue with Ted in one of his strange moods. Of late he had been subject to sudden, violent tempers that came seemingly from nowhere and left him angry and shaking for some time after. She had put these attacks down to his fears that steam engines were taking the place of sail, and might soon put him out of business. In the evenings, after supper, Ted often sat with his pipe clenched between his teeth, staring into the middle distance, or went out for long walks on his own, returning long after Millie and Eliza had put Dolly to bed. Then, of course, there was Dolly’s gradual slide into a fantasy world where the entire royal family were her bosom friends. Her delusions were child-like and harmless and she appeared to be happy in her world inhabited by imaginary companions, but Ted was deeply upset by her ramblings and had little or no patience with her. He blamed the medicine that Freddie had prescribed, and on which she had become totally dependent. Eliza had tried to wean her gradually off the laudanum-based elixir, but without it Dolly became frantic, complaining of stomach cramps, cold sweats and terrifying nightmares.

  All this flashed through Eliza’s mind as she saw Ted’s lined face contort with pain. He had a grey tinge to his skin, and his eyes were bulging from his head with a wild, unfocused look. He shook his fist at the two boys, who scrambled up the ladder into the sail loft. ‘Get on up there. I’ll deal with you later. And you, you stupid bugger, Dippy. I dunno why I keep you on, you useless good-for-nothing.’

  Dan lumbered after them, shivering and muttering to himself as he climbed the ladder.

  Eliza set the jug of water on the counter. ‘Don’t get yourself so upset, Dad.’

  ‘Them young beggars, idle sods the pair of them. I’ve a mind to give them a good thrashing.’

  She laid her hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t carry on like this. They’re just boys and they’re not late, at least not more than a couple of minutes.’

  Ted turned on her, his normally mild countenance twisted into an angry scowl. ‘Are you arguing with me, miss? Haven’t I taught you nothing in all the years you’ve been under me roof?’

  Eliza thought for a moment he was going to strike her; she modified her tone. ‘I’m not arguing, I’m just suggesting that you calm down a bit.’

  The slap echoed around the empty shop, bringing Davy sliding down the ladder, and Millie popped up from behind a set of shelves, wide-eyed and trembling.

  Clasping her hand to her cheek, Eliza stared in disbelief at Ted. Never, in all the years she had been in his care, had he ever raised his voice to her in this way, let alone struck her.

  ‘Liza, are you all right?’ Pushing Ted aside, Davy took Eliza by the shoulders, tipping her head back so that he could examine her cheek. He turned on Ted in a fury. ‘What the bleeding hell d’you think you’re doing, old man? There was no need for that.’

  ‘Don’t shout at him,’ Millie cried, rushing forward to support Ted’s swaying figure. ‘Can’t you see he’s been took poorly?’

  Eliza hurried to help Millie as she guided Ted to a chair. He slumped down, holding his head in his hands and trembling as if he were having some kind of seizure. Before Eliza could stop him, Davy had picked up the jug of water and tipped it over his head.

  The effect was instantaneous and Ted stared up at him, with a look of utter confusion on his face. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You took a swim, you old bugger,’ Davy said angrily. ‘After you’d slapped Eliza in the face. What the hell got into you, I’d like to know.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Eliza said. ‘I don’t think he knew what he was doing.’

  Ted jumped to his feet, glaring at them all in turn. ‘What’s up with you all? You’re talking rubbish, boy. I’d never hit Liza.’

  Eliza bit her lip. Fear knotted her stomach as she exchanged worried glances with Davy. ‘It’s all right, Dad,’ she said, making a huge effort to sound calm. ‘It was nothing, you mustn’t worry about it.’

  ‘I’m not worried. I’m fine. It’s you lot who are out of order.’ Stomping past them with an irascible shake of his head, Ted made for the ladder to the sail loft.

  Millie began to cry softly, covering her face with her hands. ‘What’s wrong with everyone today? It should be a nice day for Liza’s birthday but it’s all spoiled.’

  ‘No, of course it isn’t,’ Eliza said, with a conviction that she did not feel. Something was terribly wrong with Ted, but it was no use burdening Millie with her worries. ‘Maybe we’ll have a bit of a party tonight, after work. How about that?’

  ‘Now why didn’t I th
ink of that?’ Ruffling Millie’s hair, Davy smiled at Eliza. ‘Seems like a good idea to me, though. Cheer up, nipper.’

  Millie turned and ran behind one of the stands of shelves.

  ‘What did I say?’

  ‘Oh Davy, you treat her like a kid.’

  ‘She is a kid.’

  Ted’s voice from above put a stop to any argument that might have developed. ‘Get up here, Davy. I’m not paying you to stand around chatting.’

  ‘I tell you, Liza. The old man’s going mad and I can’t stand much more of it. If he don’t stop treating me like I was still an apprentice, I’m going to sign on for a sea voyage.’

  The last thing that Eliza felt like was a party in the White Swan, or Paddy’s Goose as it was known by the locals. On a normal day she would have stayed on at the chandlery long after everyone else had left. This was her quiet time when she could count the day’s takings and lock them away in the iron box that Enoch had kept hidden beneath the counter. Having done that and entered everything in the ledger, she always checked that all the doors were locked and that all the lamps and candles had been extinguished. But today had been unlike any other day and Davy had insisted that she left early, even though the apprentices and Dippy Dan were still finishing off a bit of work in the sail loft. He had persuaded her that the lads were quite capable of locking the door on their way out and that Dan, although he was not the sharpest knife in the box, could be relied upon to stay there and ensure that everything was left as it should be. Reluctantly, Eliza had allowed Davy to walk her home.