by Linda Finlay
‘What about you?’ he asked, turning to Colenso.
‘I, er, don’t know. Stay with the fair, I suppose.’
‘Penzance is our last stop after this, then we disband for the winter,’ he frowned.
‘Disband?’ Colenso muttered. ‘Oh, I hadn’t realized.’
‘Probably best if she comes with us, then. We can see her safely to Penzance,’ Sarah told him. She turned to Colenso. ‘It will be easier to make your way home from there.’
‘There’s nothing for me to go back for,’ she sighed. Seeing Kitto with the schoolmistress would be more than she could bear. As for her father and the Ferret … the very thought sent shudders sliding down her spine.
‘Whatever you decide, you’ll need some money,’ Big Al told her, passing her some notes.
‘But why would you give me money?’
‘To tide you over. Can’t live on fresh air, girl. Besides, Jago hasn’t seen fit to show up and I bet he didn’t pay you for working on the Panam all summer.’
‘No,’ she sighed. ‘He said he’d settle up with me here.’
‘Well, you’ll soon find something else, pretty girl like you. Probably be easier than when you was pretending to be a boy, Bonbon,’ he grinned.
‘Mara said you looked out for me, so thank you,’ she murmured, remembering her manners.
‘My pleasure,’ he said, tipping his hand to his thatch.
Sarah followed him out of the door and, as they stood talking on the step, Colenso’s thoughts were running amok. How could Jago take her for a fool? Now she had no job or money of her own. Why, she hadn’t even realized the fair was disbanding. Although, now she came to think of it, Titan had said some of them spent the winter in brick. Where would she go? What would she do?
When Sarah returned and saw Colenso’s bleak expression, she sat down beside her and patted her arm.
‘Perhaps you should see what Mara’s left you?’ she suggested, bending down and lifting the basket onto Colenso’s lap. Under Mara’s red scarf with its jagged tear were her golden hooped earrings.
‘My, you’ll look lovely in those,’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘They’ll go a treat with that green outfit. What else have you got?’
‘Jago’s books,’ Colenso cried. ‘Oh, and there’s a note inside.’
Dear Bonbon,
Don’t feel guilty about taking these. If my hunch is correct, that scoundrel Jago won’t be reappearing with the money he owes you. You seemed to enjoy making the confections, so use the recipes to your advantage. Whenever you pick Mother Nature’s bounty or hear the wind whispering in the leaves, think of me and know you made my last months on earth happier than I ever could have wished.
Your friend,
Mara
As another lump rose in her throat, Colenso blinked back her hot tears and delved into the basket again. There was Mara’s fine, lacy shawl, and underneath were the beautiful red shoes she’d admired in the shop window in Bodmin.
‘Oh, my goodness, I don’t know what to say,’ she gulped, running her fingers over the soft leather.
‘Mara bought those when you went to the post office with Titan. I remember she was glowing with glee when she showed them to me.’
‘I had no idea,’ Colenso said, shaking her head.
‘Course not, she wanted them to be a surprise. Gawd knows you need something to lighten your life. What will you do now, love?’
‘I honestly don’t know. I’ll have to wait until my mind clears then have a good think.’
✳
Having insisted Colenso spend the night in their van, Sarah and Solomon dropped her off on the outskirts of Penzance. She was wearing the golden hoops in her ears and, knowing she’d be seeking employment, had ensured her green outfit was looking presentable.
‘Good luck,’ they called. She watched until they were a speck in the distance then, hefting her basket over her arm, made her way towards the town. The first thing she needed to do was find a job and then somewhere to stay. It all seemed so daunting, and already she was missing Mara. For all her funny sayings and grumpy ways, she had been good company and a true friend.
She’d just started walking when she was almost overcome by the smell of sulphur coming from a huge tin-smelting works that mixed with the pungent odour from the tannery next door. What a welcome to Penzance, she thought, hurrying as fast as she could towards the sea.
Breathing the bracing air deeply, she headed towards the quay, mentally listing her talents. She could sew, cook, fashion serpentine. Serpentine, that was it. Wherrytown was on the other side of the town. She remembered the Ferret saying the finished works were shipped out of the harbour here, so surely they’d be looking for people to finish the stone.
Feeling optimistic, she walked briskly, passing the fishing boats, barges and lifeboat, then on along the promenade until she came to a gloomy-looking building bearing the name Wherrytown Serpentine Works. Gathering her courage, she marched inside. Although the men glanced curiously in her direction, nobody stopped what they were doing. The place was very large, dusty and noisy, and it took her a while to locate the works manager’s office. Boldly, she knocked on the door.
‘Enter,’ a voice boomed. Squaring her shoulders, she walked into the room and smiled. A man of middle years, wearing an ill-fitting jacket, looked up and frowned over the top of his round spectacles.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said. ‘I’ve come about a job.’
‘Tavern’s two doors down,’ he snapped, staring her up and down before returning his attention to the papers on his desk.
‘You misunderstand, sir. I’ve come about fashioning the serpentine.’ He looked up in surprise, snatched off his glasses and sat back in his chair.
‘You are a qualified turner or polisher?’
‘Well no, but I have turned trinkets for the tourists and …’
‘Character?’
‘Very good,’ she assured him. He let out a long sigh.
‘I mean can you furnish me with a testimonial from your last place of employment?’
‘Well no, sir. You see …’
‘I thought not,’ he snapped. ‘This is a respectable establishment, Miss, er,’ he waved his hand in the air. ‘We employ men with families to provide for, not some woman of dubious nature.’
‘I’ll have you …’
‘Shut the door on your way out,’ he ordered, cutting her short. Placing his glasses back on, he stared pointedly back down at his papers.
‘I pity your workers. No wonder they all look so miserable,’ she snapped.
A woman of dubious nature, indeed, she fumed, stamping her way back outside and turning back the way she’d come. Rain was falling in great fat splodges and, with the day wearing on, she needed to find somewhere to stay. Some of the money Big Al had given her would buy a bed in a modest boarding house for a couple of nights, giving her time to find employment. Always supposing someone would engage her without a character.
As she passed the plush-looking Queens Hotel it began to rain but, realizing a room there would be way beyond her means, turned up the adjacent street lined with tall, elegant houses. Obviously some people had money to be able to afford such grand places, she thought, turning into another lane which led into the town.
The appetizing aroma of hot pies made her stomach rumble, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Delving into the basket for her money, she gasped as someone thrust her hard against the wall. She just had time to glimpse a man with black teeth and foul-smelling breath, before the notes were snatched from her hand. Then he was gone, footsteps echoing on the cobbles.
‘Stop, thief,’ she called, but nobody took any notice. Shocked, shaken and berating her stupidity, she slumped down in the doorway, pulling her shawl around her. Sheltered from the driving rain, she sat there trying to collect her thoughts. Suddenly the door flew open, tipping her backwards.
‘Be on your way. We don’t want riff-raff darkening our doors.’ Colenso stared at the irate man. He lo
oked hot and sweaty, his clothes covered by a large apron.
‘I was only …’ she began, but he stood there shaking his fist until she got wearily to her feet and continued her journey.
Light-headed through tiredness and lack of food, she wandered aimlessly around the wet streets, not knowing what to do. Darkness was gathering and the lamplighter was going about his job.
‘Hey darling, want to earn some money?’ She spun round to see a sailor coming out of a nearby alehouse. He was clearly the worse for wear as he staggered and weaved his way towards her. ‘Just been paid and looking for a bit of fun,’ he leered. Eyes widening as realization hit her, she turned and fled down yet another lane. However, she soon realized her mistake. Here women, their clothes revealing more than they hid, were intent on parting seamen from their money as they plied their trade. Hastily averting her eyes, she ran back the way she’d come. She’d rather go hungry than resort to that.
Chapter 26
The rain was still falling in torrents, and the wind blowing in from the sea carried the tang of salt, making Colenso feel thirsty as well as hungry. Finding herself outside the tall church she had seen earlier and too exhausted to go any further, Colenso decided to seek refuge inside. However, the big wooden door was locked and so, biting back tears of frustration, she slumped down in the narrow porch. She shivered as an owl hooted then saw a pale flash as it swooped low in front of her. There was a piercing scream followed by an eerie silence. Pulling her shawl tighter around her, she realized it was going to be a long night. How could she have been so stupid as to pull her money from her basket in broad daylight? Grief must have dulled her senses, she thought, trying not to look at the lichen-covered gravestones that loomed luminously out of the darkness. Penniless and homeless, the threat of the workhouse or worse was fast becoming a reality.
The clock on the tower struck midnight, its mournful tones sounding loud in the quietude of night. She tried to formulate a plan but images of Kitto rose in her mind instead. Surprisingly, they no longer filled her with joy. He’d obviously had a change of heart and didn’t care enough even to reply to her letter let alone follow her. Never would she put herself in such a vulnerable position again, she thought, her heart pricking with pain. She’d lock her emotions into a cage. No longer would she torture her mind, reflecting on what might have been. Somehow, she’d make a new life, though where and how, she had no idea.
She must have fallen asleep, for the next thing she knew the sky was lightening to grey. Mercifully, the rain had stopped and the grass smelled fresh, glistening like a carpet of diamonds. Stretching her stiff limbs, she picked up the basket and got to her feet. Onward and upward, she told herself as she made her way down the path and out onto the street again. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she thought longingly of the bokoli she’d shared with Mara. Dear Mara, she hoped her lover had come for her and that they were happy together in the afterlife.
Being early, the streets were deserted apart from the sewage cart collecting the night soil. Holding her nose, she hurried on until she came to the town with its sprawl of shops. She looked around, hoping to find one that was open, although how she was going to purchase anything, she had no idea.
The tempting smell of baking lured her to the back of a shop where two men were busy taking loaves out of a huge oven.
‘I’m seeking work, do you have any positions?’ she asked, eyeing the bread hungrily.
‘We don’t employ vagrants here,’ a woman said, appearing from a door behind.
‘But I’m not …’ Colenso began.
‘Be off. Scat,’ she said, shooing her away with her cloth.
Vagrant indeed, Colenso fumed as she made her way further up the street. Hearing the sound of hooves, she turned to see a man driving a donkey cart laden with a milk churn, ladle clanking on the sides. Her mouth watered and she raised her arm to hail him before remembering she had no money.
Realizing she needed to concentrate on getting a position, she crossed the road to the raised pavement where the better shops were. As she stood on the granite paving deciding which way to go, her nose twitched. There was an acrid smell coming from the premises in front of her. She tried the handle then, when it didn’t turn, peered through the window but couldn’t see anyone, only rows of jars lined up along a counter.
With the smell of burning growing ever stronger, she hurried down the side passage where smoke was pouring out from an open door. Rushing inside, she blinked in the steam-filled room then spotted a huge copper pot, its contents boiling over and spilling onto the range. Snatching up a cloth, she carefully removed the pan from the heat and set it in the sink, where it sizzled and spluttered as the seething mass began to settle. Whatever it had been was black and beyond saving.
A snort followed by a snore made her jump, and spinning round she noticed an old man asleep in a chair in the corner of the room. As the smoke cleared, she saw he had a long white beard that rested on his chest. He looked so peaceful she didn’t like to wake him. Instead she walked around, taking in the huge cone of sugar on the cupboard, funny long thin tables that appeared to be made of tin, a strange-looking roller. Shelving housed different moulds and rows of little bottles, some brown others clear. Utensils hung from nails, and two large hooks were set incongruously on one wall.
‘Can I help you?’ a voice asked as a man appeared in the doorway. He was carrying a sack over his shoulder, which he dumped unceremoniously on the floor as his hazel eyes surveyed her. He was sporting a white apron over his twill shirt and looked to be in his late twenties.
‘I smelt burning and saw a cloud of smoke but couldn’t find anyone,’ Colenso told him. ‘Whatever was in that pot was boiling over.’ She gestured to the sink. ‘I’m afraid it’s made a dreadful mess of your stove.’ At another snore from the corner, the younger man sighed.
‘That was sugar syrup and you have clearly saved us from disaster, Miss …?’
‘Carne, sir. Colenso Carne.’
‘Well, Miss Colenso Carne, you have my undying gratitude. I am Garren Goss and the man asleep at his post is my father, the proprietor here. We were making rock and ran out of supplies. He was meant to be watching the mixture while I went out to the store cupboard, but obviously he had to rest his eyes as he calls it. Probably be asleep for a while now.’ Although he stood shaking his head, Colenso could see he was clearly fond of his aged parent.
‘Glad to have been of help. I gather you run a confectioner’s here then,’ she added, remembering the jars on the counter in the front of the shop. He nodded.
‘Father and Mother ran it quite successfully until she was taken ill.’ His eyes clouded with painful memories.
‘I’m sorry. You’re clearly busy so I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, picking up her basket and heading for the door.
‘I was about to make some tea and toast,’ he said, shaking himself back to the present. ‘Would you care to join me, Miss Carne? It’s the least I can do under the circumstances.’ The mention of food set her stomach growling and she grinned ruefully.
‘Thank you, it’s quite a while since I last ate,’ she explained. His eyes lit up, gold flecks turning his eyes jade, but as he stood looking at her his smile turned to a frown.
‘Perhaps you would like to clean up while I prepare everything. You’ll find the, er, outhouse and pump in the yard.’ How rude, she thought, then following his gaze saw her skirt was stained and crumpled, her boots coated in mud and goodness knows what else. No wonder the woman at the bakery had thought her a vagrant.
‘Thank you, yes,’ she said quickly. Ashamed to be seen in such a state, she hurried outside.
The yard was enclosed by a limewashed stone wall, a wooden structure which was clearly the privy at the bottom, while a pump stood on a slab of granite nearby. She set about making herself as respectable as possible before, feeling refreshed and ravenous, she went back indoors. The smell of toasting bread greeted her, setting her stomach rumbling again.
‘Do take a seat
,’ he invited, setting down a plate piled high with slices of browned bread. There was no tablecloth but the little round table was now set with china and cutlery. As she sat down, he began pouring tea from a brown pot. ‘Forgive the basic ware, Miss Carne. Mother would have had her best china laid out, but regrettably she was laid out herself earlier in the year.’
‘Sorry for your loss,’ she murmured.
‘Mercifully she went quickly, and life has to go on. Although Father hasn’t really recovered from the shock. Anyway, here’s your tea,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar.’ Colenso stared at the steaming earthenware mug and thought she’d never seen anything so wonderful in all her life. She was so hungry, she finished her toast in minutes and eagerly accepted another slice. It was only when they’d eaten and had drained the pot dry that Garren turned to her.
‘Your accent tells me you’re Cornish but not from Penzance, so what brings you to these parts?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she sighed. ‘Suffice to say I find myself without a roof over my head and no job with which to buy food. I am indebted to your kindness, sir.’
‘Garren, please,’ he corrected. A loud snort emanated from the corner. ‘Father’s well away,’ he smiled, looking towards the old man. ‘He’s really too old to be helping in the shop. Since Mother died he’s lost all interest, losing himself in sleep. Still, at least I can keep an eye on him – when I’m not replenishing stocks, that is,’ he grinned. ‘Mind you, it’s taking me ten times longer to do even the most basic chores. I can’t be in here making the sweets and serving in the shop at the same time.’
‘So this is a workshop as well as a kitchen, then,’ she said, the strange tin tables and equipment now making sense. ‘And now you’ll have to make more syrup for the rock,’ she said, nodding towards the big pan in the sink. He stared at her in surprise.
‘You know about such things?’ he asked, his eyes widening.
‘I spent the summer working on the Panam at the fair. Jago, the journeyman, sometimes took me with him to collect supplies and I saw how rock and lollipops were made,’ she smiled, remembering her time with Karla.