“Nobody inherited the business. It was put up for auction.”
“Who bought it?” Nina found herself drawn irresistibly into the story.
“Laud Mayor and Miss Clapham wrangled over it. Miss Clapham won. Laud Mayor attempted to make himself look generous, but we all knew by then his intentions weren’t honourable.”
“So a woman got the business anyway,” Nina said. “Poor Mrs Potts. What did she do?”
“She did her best to seclude herself,” Maudie said. “She disconnected from anything that meant making contact with other people except for her tight attempts at providing lodgings.”
“How sad for her,” Nina said. No wonder Mrs Potts was mean-spirited.
“Miss Clapham did try to make things right,” Maudie said. “She offered Mrs Potts a position managing the store, with an excellent salary. When Mrs Potts refused, Miss Clapham suggested employing a manager and going halves in expenses and income. Mrs Potts refused everything, even Miss Clapham’s friendship. In the end, Miss Clapham gave up. She would never turn Mrs Potts away, but there seemed little point in pursuing her any longer.”
A subdued silence filled the café for a minute. “Once again we come back to a vague link between Miss Clapham, Mrs Potts, and Laud Mayor,” Nina said. “What do you know about Laud Mayor? Are any of them related to each other?”
Chapter 37
c. AD 950, MIDDLE EAST: Arabs invent caramel, but it is used as a hair remover.
Maudie shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe nothing happened. He turned up about ten years ago. He said he was a businessman, he did most of his work online. Three years ago he ran for mayor and won. He was alright to begin with – we’d not have voted him in if we knew his true colours – but after a bit it became obvious that he was going to shut us down.”
Bryn brought three huge plates of ice cream to the table. “When Laud Mayor ran for office, he sold himself as being a small-town boy made big but wanting to return to his roots. Not that this area is his roots; he was talking about the semi-rural lifestyle of his childhood. You know how people are in the country. You’re a newbie until you’ve got a lineage as long as Adam’s so he wasn’t greeted with too much excitement. He was the bloke from the city who, fortunately for him, seemed not to expect anything from us. So we warmed to him, and some of the locals trusted him a little. Got him to file their tax returns and such. Asked his advice about their larger purchases and the risks of investing with various companies.”
“Miss Clapham hated him,” Maudie said.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” Bryn said. “She was, is, always very dignified. She would not badmouth anyone, but it didn’t mean she was a doormat, and it certainly didn’t mean that she liked everyone. You knew if you weren’t liked, but everyone else was unlikely to know that Miss Clapham had little time for you.”
“You seem very knowledgeable.”
“Oh, I am,” Bryn said. “There have been moments when I’ve been on the receiving end of Miss Clapham’s ultimate dignity. It’s not a comfortable place to be.”
“So there was no sign that she and Laud Mayor knew each other back then?”
“I can’t tell you,” Bryn said. “I didn’t notice. I was in love with my wife-to-be and the attitudes of others around me weren’t particularly important.”
Maudie sighed.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” Bryn said, and he rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his head. “Maybe something will come to me in the night.”
“When was the first time you noticed Laud Mayor was a little off?”
“The first time.” Bryn scratched his head. He had to stop doing that. All his hair would fall out. “The first time I truly noticed that he had a personal vendetta against our village or someone in it,was the day he closed the library.”
Nina stretched her fingers wide, noted that her nails were scruffy, flexed her fingers so the wrinkles around her knuckles became tight, and studied the pattern of her veins. That cannot, surely, have been the first time Laud Mayor showed his hand.
“But then, when I thought about it, there were other times when I should have taken more notice in the big scheme of things. Like when he started ordering me to bring in a range of delicatessen foods – smoked salmon, fancy dips, expensive cheeses. All things that wouldn’t have a long shelf life. Once I got them, he never bought them. They just sat on the shelf and were a laughing point for the locals. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’ they would say, turning the package in their hands, eyes agog. ‘This is what the city people eat. Whatever happened to brown bread and cheese?’”
Nina stretched her legs and sat a little straighter. “Did he bully you too, Maudie?”
“Absolutely. You’ve seen him. Struts up here like he’s some big chief, never comes in, demands table service, and then looks at me like I’ve served him water from the dishwasher. The difference between Bryn and me is that Laud Mayor actually eats and drinks what he asks for – he’s addicted to coffee – so I’m not losing out quite so badly. Although he does have an account a mile long. I’m embarrassed to get the debt collectors onto him, him being the Mayor and all.”
“There must be a reason he dislikes this village so much. Why?”
Chapter 38
c. AD 966, ITALY: Venetian traders construct a warehouse to store sugar for trade as medicine in central Europe.
The moon was new, the narrowest sliver in a dark sky crowded with stars. The sound of lapping water lulled Nina into a sense of peace as she squished the sand up through her toes.
“I always feel better out here.” It was fortunate there was nobody to ask who she spoke to, because Nina would have had a hard time explaining why she spoke to Greg as though he were listening, when she knew full well he was not.
“And the beach is better at night-time than during the day. The water doesn’t seem intent to snatch as much.”
She had a picture in her mind of a time when she had taken Greg and two of his friends swimming at the beach. “You can’t go out deeper than your knees, and you’ve got to stay close enough that you can hear me shout,” she’d said. “Remember I can’t swim. If you get into trouble, I can’t save you.”
She hadn’t been able to save him anyway, it turned out. She wondered what he’d have liked for his tenth birthday. For his ninth birthday, he hadn’t wanted a single thing except to be well again. They’d both known that was impossible, but it was nice to dream together. She’d bought him a present anyway – the latest iPod, loaded with his favourite songs and the latest games. It had sat beside his bed, untouched. He had no strength to listen, and no stamina to play the games. She had given it to the nurses the last time she left the hospital, the first time she’d left without Greg. Some other child would enjoy it.
“There’s something I don’t know which I should know,” she said. Talking always helped her think more clearly. “It’s about the thing that links those three, but the only thing in common is the interest in art. And even then I’m not sure if the Mayor shares the interest.”
And there were those newspapers. Did Bryn say when he’d look at the microfiche files? Suddenly it seemed rather urgent, as though her ignorance of their contents was holding her back from the solution to their problems.
Chapter 39
c. AD 1000, MIDDLE EAST: Arabs invent lozenges; CHINA: the first toothbrushes are made with hog bristles; CRETE: Arabs install the first industrial sugar refinery on the island they call Candia; MIDDLE EAST: Arabs enjoy marzipan.
Mrs Potts swivelled in her chair as Nina stood in the doorway. “Nice for some,” she said. “Out for half the night, gadding about with who knows who.”
“It was Bryn and Maudie,” Nina said.
“Well, Bryn has just been here looking for you, and Maudie – he said – is at home.”
“I went for a walk along the beach.” Nina wondered why she was explaining herself to this woman.
“Hmph,” Mrs Potts said. “I hope you’ve got a
screwdriver in your pocket.”
“What for?”
“To defend yourself against strange men,” Mrs Potts said.
“But are there strange men?” Nina said.
“You never know,” Mrs Potts said darkly. “I’ll give you the screwdriver my father gave me when I was young.” She got up, rummaged around in a drawer and came up with a short screwdriver. “You hold it in your hand,” she said, “and if you are attacked you punch the fellow and he’ll get stabbed, or at least scratched, and he’ll run like a cockroach.”
“Right.” Nina took the screwdriver, and wrapped her hand around it. “Thanks for this. Did you ever have to use it?”
“No.” Mrs Potts sank back into the armchair. “I never did, but there was an occasion or two when I thought I might have to. Didn’t have it on me those times though.”
“That’d be right,” Nina said. “Life tends to work out like that.”
Mrs Potts’ interest had returned to the television. “What would you know about life,” she mumbled. “Young thing like you, life hasn’t even begun.”
*
Maudie came into Sweet Treats while Old Tom was stacking wood into box, and Nina was preparing apples to be toffeed. “Just looking to see what you’ve made for the fete,” she said.
Maudie created a fresh wave of terror as she raved about Miss Clapham’s previous successes. On and on she went, expounding the miraculous wonders Miss Clapham could perform.
“You remember I’m not Miss Clapham, don’t you?” Nina said. “I’m Nina, new confectioneer ordinaire and I can only do my best. It won’t be up to Miss Clapham’s standards.”
“I’m sure it will,” Maudie said. “You don’t have enough faith in yourself.”
“That’s a bit sad, isn’t it?” Nina said.
“What?”
“That I don’t have enough faith in myself. I think it’s more like I don’t have enough experience or ability to churn food out like Miss Clapham did. Or even enough energy. She must have taken massive doses of multi-vitamins.”
Maudie looked at Nina as though she’d grown two heads. “Don’t know about that,” she said. “But when I think about it, and when I put two and two together…”
“Enough already,” Nina said. “I’ve got work to do and so do you. Have you seen Bryn this morning?”
“He left really early,” Maudie said. “Really, really early. I heard his old car heave itself along the road. He’ll be back this evening, I’d bet on it. He never leaves this place for long.”
So that’s what he’d come to tell her.
“He’ll bring back the newspaper articles and we’ll be able to read them, and perhaps they’ll provide the missing link,” Maudie said. “But I think it’s a waste of time him gallivanting all over the countryside looking for some old story when all he has to do is put two and two together. Which reminds me, I’m to have a stall at the fete so I won’t be able to help you. But I’ll be able to help you before. Your stall is the most popular one there.”
Maudie prattled on, oblivious to the fact that Nina wasn’t listening.
“Don’t worry,” Maudie said. “There’ll be lots of other stallholders, which is very kind of them given that Laud Mayor drove them away. There’s a great sense of community in this place. Miss Clapham is the one who pulls everything together. It’s a great day all ‘round.”
Nina closed her ears. She refused to comprehend Maudie’s words. She would not be sucked into the nitty gritty of making the fete a reality.
Chapter 40
c. AD 1050, EUROPE: marsh mallow root sap is thought to cure the common cold.
“It’s a very great pity our days are so drastically numbered,” Maudie said. “It doesn’t give us much time to prepare our case, and it means we’ll have to raise even more money. I wonder if the campground rates will go up again or if once a year is enough. I can’t figure out why Laud Mayor always comes here to get his coffee. He’s here every second day, and he was never here this often before Miss Clapham went away.” Her eyes lit up. “Perhaps he’s here more because of you.”
Nina could see Maudie calculating her ‘two and two’. “I don’t think so,” she said firmly. “It’s a fluke. Anyway, you make the best coffee in the world, we’ve got the smartest toilets, the cheapest milk and bread in the whole country in our general store, and a great little sweet shop which would be even better with Miss Clapham at the helm. Why wouldn’t he want to spend time here?”
“I had a thought,” Maudie said, and Nina nearly took the liberty of sighing out loud. “There must be someone around here who has a gas stove.” She gave the hearth a little kick. “This old thing is too slow for you.”
“If Miss Clapham could do it…” she began.
“… then we can too.” Maudie nodded her head vigorously and Old Tom, who had returned from putting the ashes at the base of the tree agreed.
“Four of us,” Tom said, “should mean we have no disasters.”
Nina blushed. Had Old Tom noticed the growing pile of burnt confectionery beside the chimney? She’d thought it out of sight. Perhaps it was time she dug a hole and buried it.
“Putting two and two together,” Maudie interrupted, “four of us should be able to manage what Miss Clapham did on her own.”
“Five?”
“Us and Claudia,” Maudie said.
“There’s no electricity.”
“We’ll run a power cord across the road.” Maudie turned to Tom. “Do you still have those spotlights?”
“Too bright,” Old Tom said. “You’d be blinded with them in here.” He rubbed his elbow, then spoke. “Leave the lighting to me. I’ll fix something up.”
And so it was set. Nina was not to worry about doing extra cooking. They’d all get together the night before and cook, cook, cook until every ounce of sugar, every pound of butter, every drop of milk was transformed into a piece of confectionery that even Miss Clapham would be proud of.
“I’ll help you,” Maudie said. “I’m good at weighing out the ingredients.”
“And I’m good at washing dishes,” Old Tom said.
“And Bryn’s good at beating,” Maudie said.
“What will I do?” Nina said.
“You’ll be the grand coordinator,” Maudie said. “You can watch us work.”
Mrs Potts said nothing when Nina told her of their plans, merely changed the channel on the television.
“Thank you for dinner,” Nina said, even though it had been cabbage fried in rancid oil.
“Hmph.”
“I feel sick.” Nina talked to herself in the mirror. “I feel sick and it’s not just the cabbage.”
Chapter 41
c. AD 1000, EGYPT: Arabs decorate their feast tables with giant sugar-paste models of trees, buildings, and animals; EUROPE: candied fruits are popular, but honey is the usual sweetener; NORTH AMERICA: aboriginal peoples chew spruce-tree resin to relieve toothache and freshen breath.
Nina could feel the world closing in on her. She woke before the cat yowled – did he think he was a rooster, per chance – and then she lay in bed, her mind a blank except for the aching loss of Greg. One week and three days until his birthday. The first day commemorating his birth since he died.
The clock bonged four times. She must have dozed because it seemed only moments later that it bonged five times. She should get up but she didn’t want to. She heard Mrs Potts shuffle to the toilet, then return to her bedroom. She pulled the blankets over her head and breathed in her own warm air. She did not cry. She did not feel like crying. She did not feel like anything.
At six o’clock, she crept from her bed. She dragged her clothes on, peered at herself in the mirror without seeing and trudged out the door and down the steps. She heard Mrs Potts behind her, shouting into the great space which was another day. “Wait! You haven’t made the bed.”
Nina didn’t pause or look back. She simply put one foot in front of the other.
She sat, hunched, on the doorstep of
Sweet Treats. Across the street, Maudie scraped a chair along the ground, but the dreadful noise of metal against concrete produced no answering wave from Nina.
Maudie tugged at Nina’s hand. “What’s the matter?” she said.
Nina was silent. She had no energy to voice her thoughts. She had no thoughts. She wished she were dead, buried in the grave alongside Greg.
Maudie gave up trying to get Nina to talk. Instead she held Nina’s hand. She talked about the sunshine, how it would warm the earth by midday. She talked about the flowers that sprang of their own accord along the way. She talked about taking a walk along the beach. And she talked about people – the mayor, Old Tom, Mrs Potts, Miss Clapham, even Bryn who had clattered in late last night. Nina made no response at all. When they sat on a bench beside the sea, she gazed unseeing across the blue water.
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