The Bonbon Girl

by Linda Finlay

  ‘And judging by your expression you clearly enjoyed it, but you spoke in the past tense, so what happened?’

  ‘The woman I lived with died then the fair disbanded for the winter,’ she sighed. He sat looking at her for a long moment.

  ‘Well, Miss Carne, I need an assistant who knows how to make sweets and you are in need of a job so perhaps we can help each other. I can’t pay much but there is a little box room next to the workshop, which you’d be welcome to use. Father and I live upstairs so you wouldn’t be disturbed.’

  ‘That would be the answer to my prayers, Mr, er, Garren,’ she cried, her spirits lifting only to fall when she remembered the derision of the manager at the Wherrytown Works. ‘But don’t you require a character?’

  ‘I think I’m a good judge of character, Miss Carne, and you look good to me,’ he grinned. ‘Why don’t we give it a trial of one month? If either of us isn’t happy during that time we can revise the situation.’ He held out his hand and, unable to believe her good fortune, she shook it firmly. There was another snort from the corner followed by gentle snoring, making them both laugh.

  ‘I think Father will be asleep for quite a while yet, so why don’t I show you around?’

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ she replied, a quiver of excitement tingling her spine.

  She followed him past a staircase and through a little arched door that led into the shop itself. The walls were lined with wooden shelves with drawers beneath them, their golden handles gleaming in the gloomy interior. On the counter was a set of brass scales, tiny weights in a tin alongside and the empty jars she’d seen earlier. On the shelf behind were trays of glistening sweets waiting to be decanted into them.

  ‘These will go in the windows when they’re filled, but luckily we haven’t been that busy of late,’ he explained, pointing from the jars to the bays with their tiny panes of glass. Luckily? What a strange thing to say, Colenso thought. Seeing her puzzled look, he grimaced.

  ‘I mean obviously I want more custom, but with Father the way he is … well, those that have the money to buy confectionery expect prompt service and …’ he shrugged. Colenso nodded and stared around the room, gathering an overall impression. Everywhere was clean but clinical, and the dim interior was hardly conducive to tempting people through the door. She could see how a woman’s touch could make it look more inviting, but guessed everything had changed when Mrs Goss had died.

  ‘How do you serve the sweets?’ she asked.

  ‘Why, in twists of these,’ Garren replied, holding up a pile of thin, plain paper. ‘Although Mother used to tie ribbon around if it were purchased as a gift. Now, I think I can hear Father moving about so let’s go back through and I’ll introduce you.’

  Colenso followed him back through to the kitchen.

  ‘Father, this is Miss Colenso Carne. She has kindly agreed to come and work for us. My father, Edwin Goss,’ Garren said.

  ‘Didn’t hear you arrive, where did you spring from?’ he frowned, staring at her from under his white bushy brows.

  ‘You fell asleep whilst the syrup was boiling, Father. Luckily Colenso here smelt it burning or we could have had a nasty fire in here,’ Garren explained.

  ‘Only rested my eyes for a few minutes. I am old, you know,’ the man muttered defensively.

  ‘I do know, Father, and now Colenso can take over some of your duties,’ Garren told him. The man scratched his head, and it was evident he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to relinquish any.

  ‘Of course, I’ll appreciate any advice you can give me,’ she told him. Immediately the man’s eyes brightened.

  ‘Taken me years to learn everything, it has,’ he told her. ‘Make everything proper here. None of that bulking out the others do. Everything is pure, well, apart from those colours,’ he said, pointing to the little bottles. ‘Some come from coal tar waste, they do, and can be toxic for those who don’t know what they’re doing.’

  ‘Quite,’ Garren said quickly. ‘That’s why I thought I’d make the confections while Colenso takes care of the shop. Now, where are your things?’ he asked, turning back to her.

  ‘Here,’ she said reaching for her basket.

  ‘That all you got?’ the old man asked. ‘Where are all your clothes?’

  ‘These are the only ones I possess,’ Colenso told him.

  ‘Well, you’d best get on and make some new ones. We get a good class of person in here and they expect to be served by someone looking neat and tidy at the very least. I ain’t having you serving in my confectionary looking like a scarecrow.’

  ‘Father, really.’

  ‘No, it’s all right, Garren. Mr Goss does have a point,’ she sighed. ‘No one will want to be served by me looking like this,’ she said, gesturing to her tattered green attire. Then, hefting the basket over her arm, she made for the door. She was about to step outside when she heard the old man chuckle.

  ‘Come back and sit yourself down. Likes a bit of spirit in a girl, I do, livens up the day. My Meggie were like a frosted fruit too. Sweet on the outside but with bite in the centre,’ he sighed, the light going out of his eyes. Not wishing to upset him, Colenso let herself be led back to the chair she’d been sitting on earlier.

  ‘Good, that’s decided. You’re staying,’ Garren said, looking relieved. ‘Now I’ll show you to your room.’

  ‘Not so fast, son. Don’t suppose you thought to test her capabilities.’ The man turned to Colenso. ‘If you really want to work then you can begin now,’ he said, staring Colenso straight in the eye. ‘That pot isn’t going to wash itself and look at the state of the stove.’ Knowing he was throwing down the gauntlet, she set down her basket and went over to the sink.

  ‘It’s a good job I’m not wearing my best clothes or they’d be ruined,’ she quipped, snatching up the cloth.

  ‘She’ll do, son,’ the old man chuckled. ‘Mind you, I’d hate to see standards slip, my Meggie always looked fresh as a daisy when she served in the confectioner’s.’

  Chapter 27

  Tired but happy, Colenso sank onto the little daybed, pulling the blanket over her. The room had been used as a store but, after clearing sacks and jars out of the way, Garren had apologized for the lack of furnishings and left her to settle in. It must have been fate that led her here, for hadn’t Mammwynn always declared that destiny dictated?

  She yawned and stretched out, running her fingers through her hair and was gratified to find it now almost reached her neck. After the dramas of the previous night, this seemed like paradise, and she could hardly believe her good fortune as she thought back over the day.

  After the old man had gone upstairs to rest his eyes, Garren had set about making more sugar syrup while telling her about his plans for building the business up again. She’d helped by washing down the sides of the pan with the brush, then winced as he’d put his finger in to test the boiling concoction.

  ‘They’ve got sugar thermometers in America but regrettably they’re very expensive. Still, who knows? One day,’ he grinned. ‘Now, let’s get this poured.’ She watched as he tipped the mixture out on the tin tables, which he explained were called cooling tables.

  Then, by the light of the lantern, they worked together colouring, flavouring and kneading the mixture before cutting it into lengths. When she’d told him how Karla had formed them into crooks, he’d agreed they looked more decorative but explained that straight sticks could be packed into jars.

  ‘However, it’s good that you take an interest in what you’re doing. I can see you are going to be a real asset to the business, Colenso,’ he told her.

  Now, with his words of praise ringing in her ears, she closed her eyes. She was just planning how she was going to help Garren set out the little shop, when there was a shuffling noise outside. Then came a rap on her door. She sat bolt upright, pulling the shawl around her shoulders. Garren had assured her she wouldn’t be disturbed and she’d thought him genuine, but then he was a man. Recalling the degrading sights of the day be
fore, she shuddered. There came another, more insistent knocking. Well, if he thought she was that kind of woman, he could think again.

  Jumping out of bed, she opened the door a tiny crack.

  ‘Oh,’ she cried when she saw the old man standing there, a bundle in his hands.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, my dear, but I can’t help thinking I was rather rude earlier,’ he said, smiling ruefully.

  ‘No, you were quite right, Mr Goss. I can’t serve customers looking like a scarecrow. Luckily Garren has offered to loan me an apron,’ she told him.

  ‘Well, I can do better than that,’ he said, grinning widely as he held out his offering. ‘I bought this for my Meggie’s birthday but she died before … I thought perhaps you could use it,’ he said, thrusting the parcel into her arms before shuffling away.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Goss,’ she called but he’d already disappeared into the darkness.

  Impatient to see what he’d given her, she lit the candle. Pulling back the brown paper she saw a length of material, its vibrant pink reminding her of the thrift that garlanded the cliffs back home. Running her fingers over the soft cloth, she could visualize the dress she would make. Then she remembered the red shoes and delving into her basket brought them out and held them next to the material. They toned perfectly, the bright colours reflecting her excitement. ‘Oh Mara, if you could see me now,’ she whispered. Of course, it could have been coincidence that made the flame flicker, but she knew in her heart that it wasn’t.

  Colenso was up bright and early the next morning and, covering her stained clothes with the big white apron, let herself out of her little room. Hearing pans and spoons clattering in the workshop, she let herself straight into the shop. Humming happily, she filled the jars with the sweets, marvelling at all the different types and inhaling their aromas. As well as the bullseyes, barley twists, Nelson’s buttons and the rose rock she was familiar with, there were also confections smelling of acid, peppermint and aniseed, reminding her of the herb Mammwynn used to make a tisane when she’d had a cough. Others were little jewel-like confections, their multi-coloured hues like the stained-glass windows in a church. Taking the filled jars over to the little bay windows on either side of the door, she set about arranging them in a way she hoped would catch the attention of passers-by. She was standing outside, trying to judge the effect, when a smartly dressed woman came out of the adjoining shop.

  ‘I hope you’re going to clean your frontage,’ she said haughtily. ‘We pride ourselves on keeping our facades pristine, and frankly yours lowers the tone of the place.’ Nodding curtly, she disappeared back inside. And good morning to you too, Colenso thought. Staring down at the ground in front of her, she saw that it was covered in mud and mess. Remembering she’d seen a besom in the yard the previous day, she hurried to retrieve it, and had just finished sweeping the muck into the gutter when Garren appeared in the doorway.

  ‘I don’t expect you to do that,’ he told her, taking the broom from her. ‘Goodness, that’s a fine display,’ he added, spotting the jars through the window. ‘Looks just like a rainbow. If that doesn’t draw in the customers then I don’t know what will.’

  ‘Glad you approve,’ she replied,

  ‘I came to tell you I’ve just made breakfast, so let’s go and eat.’ Before she could reply, he was heading down the side passage and she had no choice other than to follow. Inside the workshop-cum-kitchen the aroma of toast mingling with the smell of oranges and lemons made her mouth water.

  ‘Got to keep up supplies,’ Garren said, gesturing to the sweets he’d just made. ‘I call them St Clements Drops,’ he added. ‘My speciality is stuffed dates. Popular with the genteel ladies but time-consuming as they need making up every day. Still, got to keep everyone happy. Now, help yourself to toast.’

  ‘Is your father not joining us?’ Colenso asked, taking a seat at the little table. He handed her a mug of tea then shook his head.

  ‘Said he had a late night and needed to rest his eyes. I heard him moving about his room, pulling out drawers and muttering to himself long after I’d retired. Goodness knows what he was doing.’

  ‘I think he might have been looking for the material he brought me. He suggested I make something to wear in the shop.’

  ‘Don’t tell me he visited your room?’ Garren groaned.

  ‘Well yes, he said he was worried he might have been a bit rude earlier.’

  ‘A bit,’ Garren exclaimed then shook his head. ‘I’ll have to have a word with my father about propriety.’

  ‘Please don’t, he was merely being kind. And he was right, I do need to look decent, although I shall have to wait until I can purchase cotton and scissors. I didn’t bring anything with me.’

  ‘No, I noticed you were travelling light,’ he grinned. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do, although I’m not in a position to advance you any wages.’

  ‘Good, because I’m not in a position to accept charity,’ she retorted.

  ‘Father was right, you do have Mother’s bite,’ he grinned. ‘Now, if you’ve finished eating, I think it’s time we opened up,’ he added, getting to his feet. Scooping the sweets he’d made earlier into a jar, he led the way through to the shop.

  Although Colenso knew she should be grateful for his generosity, she was fed up with taking things from other people. She couldn’t wait to receive her wages and start paying her way.

  ‘This is where we keep the cash,’ he said, taking out a little tin box from a drawer under the counter. ‘We start with a £2 float so that we can give change to anyone who requires some. All the prices are written on the labels, as you’ve probably already seen. Now to the scales.’ He picked up one of the little brass weights and set it down on one side, then using a serving scoop, dropped some of the orange and lemon sweets onto the other until they balanced. He then tipped them onto a square of paper, brought up the corners and twisted them together at the top.

  ‘On the Panam, we used to pop sweets into a cone so that they were all ready to hand over.’

  ‘I’m sure that was all right for a fair, but you’ll find the customers here like to see their sweets being weighed in front of them. Protocol, I think it’s called. Of course, barley-sugar twists and rock sticks you can sell individually.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, but he had turned away and was frowning at the wall behind the counter.

  ‘Good grief,’ he murmured, snatching down a black cloth. Immediately the room was flooded with light reflected from the windows. ‘We covered that mirror out of respect when Mother passed, and completely forgot about it. Now, if you’d like to turn the sign around to open, I’ll go and make more sweets.’

  ‘More?’ she gasped, staring at all the full jars.

  ‘Got to keep supplies up. Nothing worse than a sweetshop without sweets,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you need any help.’

  Colenso turned the sign then, with a final check that all the jars were neatly aligned, took herself back behind the counter. As she stepped in front of the mirror, she nearly did a double-take. The woman staring back scarcely resembled the one she remembered. Her eyes sparkled, her skin still bore the tan of a summer spent in the fresh air, while her hair curled softly beneath the green scarf, the golden hoops shining as they caught the light. Why, if it wasn’t for her torn hem and stains on her blouse, she’d look quite presentable, she thought happily.

  The ringing of the little bell interrupted her musing and, spinning round, Colenso smiled as an elegant woman in her early twenties entered. She perused the jars before asking: ‘Do you have any of those delectable dates? Mother so adores them.’ The woman’s smile turned to a frown as Colenso tried to remember seeing any.

  ‘Ah, good morning, Miss Veryan,’ Garren said, appearing from the workshop. ‘I have just this moment finished making them.’

  ‘That is most opportune,’ she replied, a dazzling smile replacing her frown.

  ‘As if I would let my favourite c
ustomer down, Miss Veryan. Your mother is keeping well, I trust?’

  ‘If her grumbling is anything to go by, she is hale and hearty,’ the woman replied, with a roll of her eyes. While they exchanged pleasantries, Garren weighed out the dates and wrapped them.

  ‘Here you are, Miss Veryan. I have added an extra one for yourself,’ he told her.

  ‘How kind you are, Mr Goss,’ she said, handing him a coin. ‘Good day to you.’ Without a glance in Colenso’s direction, she glided from the shop.

  ‘Well,’ Colenso muttered.

  ‘She is a good customer so I often add a little treat. But not for everyone, you understand, or I would soon be out of business,’ he replied, completely missing her point.

  The bell jangled and two grubby little boys came in, eyeing Garren hopefully.

  ‘Got any broken bits, mister?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ he winked. Taking a little bag from behind the counter, he handed it to the older one.

  ‘Cor, thanks, mister,’ they chorused, almost running out of the shop in their haste to eat their treats.

  ‘But they didn’t pay,’ Colenso exclaimed.

  ‘They’re from the orphanage. I collect up the bits from the bottom of the jars each evening so it doesn’t really cost me anything. Now, I’ll leave it to you to make our fortune,’ he grinned and disappeared back to the workshop.

  There was a lull during which Colenso carefully placed the dates into a clean jar and put it in the window. She had just returned to her place behind the counter when a harassed-looking woman entered, followed by three young children who immediately ran over to the sweet jars, gazing longingly at the contents.

  ‘Three barley-sugar sticks,’ the woman said, giving Colenso a weary smile.

  ‘Aw Mamm, can’t we have some of these?’ the little boy said, gazing longingly at the sugar-glass sweets.

  ‘No, we wants these,’ the girls chorused, pointing to the Nelson’s buttons.