by Anne Forsyth
‘We’ll say no more about it,’ said Henry. ‘Least said, soonest mended, eh, Angus?’
‘That’s fair of you in the circumstances,’ said Angus.
‘Ah, well, let’s hope it does no harm to my business, but local folk know a good rhubarb tart when they taste one.’
Still chuckling, he closed the door behind him.
‘Let this be a lesson to you.’ Angus was not going to let Rona off lightly ‘Henry was fair about it, I’ll give him that.’
He paused. ‘And another thing, I’ve been thinking. Now that your auntie’s away, we need an extra assistant for the shop. I’d better draft the ad myself,’ he said.
The door bell tinkled as an elderly woman appeared at the door of the shop. ‘Have you any of these rhubarb tarts—the ones that were in The Advertiser?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fit for a Queen, it said.’
‘They’re—’ Rona paused, not wanting to get into trouble again. ‘They’re very good.’
‘I’ll take one.’ The woman paused. ‘I cut out all the pictures of the Queen—her and Prince Philip, and the Queen Mother too.’
‘Do you?’
‘She’s a fine young woman and she’ll make a grand Queen. My, I’d like to be at the Coronation come June, but we’ll maybe see it on the television. And four of your soda scones, as well,’ she added, changing tack.
‘Enjoy the rhubarb tart,’ said Rona. If the ad was bringing in business, it hadn’t hurt the baker’s, she thought.
‘I’ve come for one of your rhubarb tarts,’ said the next customer. ‘Are they as good as it said in the paper?’
‘Every bit as good,’ said Rona loyally.
At the end of the morning she told Angus, ‘We’re sold out of rhubarb tarts.’
She would have liked to put one in the window, maybe with a ticket, As advertised in the Kirkton Advertiser, but felt that might be going too far.
‘It’s the power of the Press,’ she said to Angus. ‘They’re all wanting these rhubarb tarts.’
‘Sold out, eh?’ he said. ‘And to think I just fancied one for our tea.’
He shook his head at her and Rona knew she was forgiven.
HELP FOR RONA
‘A school-leaver would do us fine,’ said Angus. ‘A bright lad, or a girl, willing to learn.’ He paused his pencil over the sheet of paper. ‘No, a girl’s better. A lad would be wanting to learn to drive the van.’
He wrote carefully, Female shop assistant wanted and added, Apply to Maclaren’s, High Street
‘There, we’ll see what that brings in.’
The first applicant was clearly unsuitable, though Rona rather liked her. She was tall with a shock of red hair. She was wearing pale blue trousers which Rona recognised as the latest fashion, pedal pushers, she said to herself, a red and white striped top and large sunglasses, though it was a cool day with grey skies that threatened rain.
‘I’ve come for the job.’
‘This way,’ said Rona, wondering with a grin what Angus would make of this apparition.
The interview didn’t last long. The girl emerged from the back premises, she shrugged her shoulders and threw a pitying glance at Rona. ‘Do you work here all the time?’
‘Yes.’ said Rona defensively ‘My father’s the owner of the business.’ She thought ‘the business’ sounded grander than just ‘the shop’.
‘Is he now?’ The girl shook her head slowly. ‘My, my. Poor you. I’ve other interviews so I’d best get along. Ta, ta.’ She slammed the door behind her.
Rona was a little sorry that this was not to be the new assistant.
‘Wouldn’t do at all,’ said Angus. ‘There’s bound to be other applicants.’
But there were not many, and none of them suitable, though Rona rather liked one girl who had a loud cheery laugh. She could see that they might have had a lot of fun together, but Angus shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t do at all, that one,’ he said firmly. ‘That laugh, it would drive me demented in a day.’
The last applicant was a small girl with mousy hair and pale, sharp features. Her hair was cut short and she wore a grey knitted jumper and a pleated skirt, shabby, but clean.
‘I’ve come about the advertisement that was in the paper,’ she said in a small voice.
‘You’d better come through.’
She was very slight, thought Rona, would this one be strong enough for the job?
‘I’ve got a reference. The girl produced from her basket a much folded piece of paper and thrust it towards Rona.
‘It’s my father that’s interviewing,’ said Rona, a little regretfully. ‘You’ll have to see him.’
‘Right then,’ said Angus appearing from the back shop. ‘Now miss, what’s your name?’
‘I’m Jean Ross,’ said the girl, ‘but they call me Jeannie.’ The words came out in a little squeak.
Angus scanned the piece of paper she held out to him which told him that Jean Ross had been a conscientious and hardworking pupil, and neat and tidy in her work.
He explained the demands of the job. ‘It’s hard work.’
‘I’m not afraid of hard work,’ she said with a little spurt of spirit.
‘And early rising,’ he added. ‘The shop’s open at eight for people wanting breakfast rolls.’
‘I’m always up early,’ she said a little defiantly.
‘Right you are.’ There was not much left to say, except for discussion of wages and her insurance stamp and time off. ‘A half day a week, and a week’s holiday in the summer.’
She was not ideal. He would have liked a big, strong girl capable of handling the large trays of loaves and rolls, but he was anxious to fill the post.
‘She’ll have to do,’ he said to Rona as he ushered the girl out of the shop.
‘You start on Monday, Jeannie. Mind, eight sharp.’
Rona was a little disappointed. She would have liked someone a bit brighter, someone you could share a joke with. And what about Aunt Lizzie when she came back again?
Poor Jeannie, she thought. If she was in awe of Father, she would be absolutely terrified of Aunt Lizzie.
But Maclaren’s were taking on staff and this new girl would be under Rona’s supervision.
‘Fancy me with a junior assistant,’ thought Rona, and liked the idea.
AN UNFORTUNATE OCCURRENCE
The new assistant, Jeannie, proved to be a willing worker—she scurried backwards and forwards, and to Rona’s surprise, was much stronger than she looked, lifting trays without much effort and sweeping the floor energetically.
Rona rather enjoyed being in charge of her, and clearly Jeannie looked up to Rona and was willing to do whatever Rona asked.
Sometimes Rona tried to draw her out, but there was no talk of home or boyfriends or outings. Once Rona had suggested an evening at the pictures, but Jeannie shook her head. ‘I’ve things to do at home,’ so Rona gave up.
‘If she doesn’t want to, that’s it.’
But she liked the quiet little girl, always in her spotless white pinafore, and having Jeannie as an extra hand certainly made things easier in the shop.
It was a good thing Aunt Lizzie was still away, Rona smiled to herself. She could just imagine how Jeannie would be terrified of Aunt Lizzie. Even Callum’s scared of her, thought Rona.
She wondered for a moment how Aunt Lizzie was getting on, and whether she and Maisie were still on speaking terms. There had been a postcard or two, but her aunt would never think of phoning. She regarded the phone as a needless extravagance.
* * *
It was perhaps a few weeks later that the trouble began. Rona had risen early. Now that the days were lighter, she liked to hear the dawn chorus and usually lay awake for a little while listening, but she had to be at the shop by eight, and there was no time for dreaming.
It was going to be a bright day, she thought as she dressed, glancing out of the window at the garden, springing into life now. The daffodils against the wall were a c
heerful patch of colour and soon the wallflower and dwarf tulips under the window would be out and every day would be warmer.
Angus was busy making up the orders when she arrived and she sniffed, enjoying as she always did, the smell of freshly baked rolls.
‘We’re needing some more paper bags,’ he said a little later. ‘Away you go along to Grant’s and get say, four dozen. Get a receipt, remember and take the money out of the petty cash.’
Rona opened the cash box that was kept on a ledge behind the counter, and locked away every night. ‘There’s nothing in the box, Father,’ she said.
‘Nonsense. There must be. There’s two or three pounds there. I put the money in myself yesterday. Did you lock it away last night?’
Rona tried to remember. She’d been hurrying to get away to meet Callum as they were going to the pictures and she’d promised to be at the Regal on time so they wouldn’t miss the big picture.
‘I . . . I can’t remember.’
‘You mean you didn’t.’ Angus stared at the empty box.
‘I’ve the petty cash records here,’ Rona said. She’d been careful about checking the petty cash, as instructed by Aunt Lizzie. ‘And all the receipts, but there’s been nothing paid out for the last few weeks, not since . . .’ she checked the slips, ‘not since I bought tea and sugar, and that was a week or two back.’
‘And I’ve topped up the tin every week,’ said Angus, puzzled. ‘A couple of pounds at a time, in shillings and florins mostly, the odd half crown. There’s a note in the box.’
‘But . . .’ he shook the box, ‘there’s nothing left.’ He looked serious. ‘It would seem to me that money’s going missing from the petty cash. As if I hadn’t enough to think about. And where’s the girl?’
A few moments later, the door burst open and Jeannie hurried in. ‘I’m that sorry,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t get away from home on time.’
‘You should have been here at eight,’ said Angus coldly. ‘That’s the terms of your employment. If you’re going to keep coming in late . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, flushing. ‘It’ll not happen again.’
‘Well, you’d better get your apron on and get down to work,’ he said. ‘Rona, you and I will have to sort out this business of the money. I don’t like to think . . . .’ he paused. ‘Ah well.’
He glanced at Jeannie. Surely not . . .
They decided that he should put an extra couple of pounds in the box and mark the notes. ‘That way,’ he said, ‘if anyone’s coming in to the shop and knows where the box is, we’d be certain to catch them red handed.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t like it. I’ve never had this kind of thing before, never in all the years.’ His voice tailed off.
It was perhaps a couple of weeks later that Angus took the box to lock it away for the night. That was odd, he thought. It felt light, though he’d put in two or three pounds and some small change only that morning.
But now the box was empty.
He was at work next thy early as usual, and Jeannie, who had as she promised turned up on time every day, arrived just after him.
The morning was busy, there were orders to get out for two boarding houses in the town, and a special delivery of teacakes and sultana and cherry slab cake to the town hall for an afternoon function.
So it was not until the shop was quiet later on, that Jeannie approached him hesitantly.
‘I was wondering, Mr Maclaren, could I take my dinner-break early? I’m wanting to get to the shops before one.’
‘Aye, that’ll be all right,’ he said a little absently. And then he thought. ‘Jeannie, I’m not saying anything, but did you open the petty cash box yesterday?’
Rona, tidying the shelves, turned sharply. Surely Father wasn’t accusing Jeannie?
Jeannie’s face flushed. ‘Me? Me, Mr Maclaren? What would I be wanting with the petty cash box?’
‘You were the only one here,’ he returned. ‘Mind you, I’m not saying anything.’
He hesitated a moment. ‘I wouldn’t like to suspect anyone, so you’ll not mind if I ask you to open your purse.’
Jeannie went to her coat hanging in the back shop and produced a shabby leather purse.
‘You’ll open it, please. You understand?’ Angus was a fair man. ‘You were the only one here, so I have to be certain. Just a precaution.’
Very slowly she opened the purse and laid out the heap of sixpences, a few shillings and two ten-shilling notes.
Angus picked up the notes and held them out to her. ‘They’re marked,’ he said. ‘These were the ones I marked.’
Jeannie stared at him, horrified. Then she burst into tears. ‘I never meant to,’ she sobbed. ‘I needed the money. I was going to put it back, honest.’
‘Honest?’ Angus’s voice rose. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word. And how long has this been going on?’
‘It was just a little at first—maybe a shilling or two.’ She spoke so quietly, that Rona, standing behind the counter, could hardly hear her.
Angus looked at her coldly. ‘I can’t have anyone working here that I can’t trust,’ he said. ‘Miss Maclaren here will give you your money till the end of the week and you can go now. Fetch your coat and get out.’
‘Father!’ said Rona.
‘Be quiet, Rona, this is nothing to do with you.’
‘But you’re being unfair. It could have been anyone. It could have been me.’
‘But it wasn’t, was it, Rona?’ He glared at her.
‘No, of course not,’ she said hotly.
‘Well, there’s only one thief here, and it’s been proved. Go on, girl, get your wages from Miss Maclaren and you can be off.’
Jeannie was silent. She didn’t look at Rona and in a few minutes she was gone, closing the door quietly behind her.
‘Well,’ said Angus heavily, ‘we’d best get back to work. I’m just thankful the shop was empty.’
There was something very strange about the whole situation, thought Rona. She knew there was no use talking to Father, but she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
A LESSON OF LIFE
It was perhaps a fortnight later, a pleasant late spring evening with a slight breeze, when Callum and Rona met up.
‘There’s nothing much on at the pictures,’ he said. ‘Fancy a walk? We could go down by the harbour and along the sands.’
‘Fine.’
‘And maybe stop for an ice-cream if the café’s still open.’
‘I’d like that.’
They set off down the road that led to the harbour. Rona had often wondered about these little houses—all in a row, they must be cramped inside and no front garden like the ones they’d just passed which were bright with late tulips and wallflowers.
As they approached one of the houses, Rona thought that it looked just like all the rest, except there was a figure bent double who seemed to be whitening the step. The woman—no, it was a girl—looked up and seeing Rona, looked away again quickly and bent down to her work.
‘Callum,’ said Rona, ‘would you mind walking on? I’ll catch up with you in a minute. There’s . . . someone I know, I want to speak to.’
‘Right you are.’ Callum was good-natured as always. ‘I’ll wait for you on the pier.’
Rona watched him as he walked away, then turned to the girl who had ignored her.
‘Jeannie?’
Jeannie looked up, the brush in her hand. ‘Did you want something?’ she said in a flat sort of tone.
‘Not really. We were just passing. I, er, I didn’t know you lived here.’
‘Well, we do.’ Jeannie was not prepared to say more. ‘A fine evening,’ she blurted out, looking awkward.
‘You’re busy.’ Rona hesitated.
‘Aye. Did you want something?’ Jeannie repeated.
‘No, I wasn’t spying or anything,’ said Rona hastily.
Jeannie looked up and down the narrow street. ‘Do you want to come in? Folk are gossips round her
e.’
‘Just for a moment. Callum and I are out for a walk.’
She followed Jeannie into the little house. There was a narrow passageway and off it a small living room with a table, a couple of dining chairs and an easy chair.
Beyond, Rona could see a scullery. At the dining room table sat a boy about twelve years old, a jotter and book spread out in front of him.
‘I’m sorry about the smell of fish,’ Jeannie apologised. ‘There’s a man at the harbour gives me the odd whiting.’ She sniffed. ‘We had it for our tea.’
She turned to the boy. ‘Say hello to Miss Maclaren, Tommy,’ she said sharply. ‘And then you take your books to the bedroom.’ The boy muttered a shy, ‘Hello,’ and disappeared.
‘I didn’t know you had a brother,’ said Rona.
‘Two,’ said Jeannie briefly. ‘The other one’s George. He’s in his bed. He’s not that well.’ A shadow crossed her face.
Rona hesitated then said all in a rush, ‘I’m sorry about what happened.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Jeannie, and Rona, surprised, thought how much more confident she seemed in her own home. ‘I was caught stealing and any boss would have sacked me.’
‘But,’ Rona was puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘I needed the money. Tommy needs new boots for the school and I want him to have a blazer. How do you think I could afford these things? And George needs to be kept warm so there’s money needed for coal.’
Rona was silent for a moment, then she said, ‘ But do you pay for all this? I mean—’
She knew that Jeannie hadn’t earned a great deal at the baker’s.
‘I work in the evenings, cleaning offices and sometimes up at the caravans,’ said the girl. ‘He’s clever, Tommy,’ said Jeannie, fiercely proud, ‘and he’s going to have the chances I never had. And I’m not likely to get another job now, am I? Your father—he said he’d not give me a reference, and I’d not blame him. No boss wants someone who’s been caught stealing.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Rona looked round the shabby sitting room.
‘There’s only us,’ said Jeannie. ‘So I want the best for them.’