For a Father's Pride (12 page)

Daisy busied herself lighting the fire and putting the kettle on. She tried not to look at Jim, even when he kept tutting at the paperwork he was working through. Earlier Daisy couldn’t
help but notice the number of unpaid bills that had been in the pile of papers, and even though she was no financier, she knew there was a lot of money owing. She made tea in one of the good china
teapots that she had found in the beautiful china cabinet, then poured it into a cup for Jim, walking quietly around him so as not to disturb him.

‘Just look at this! What does he want with all these lemons – the man’s a fool. He’s had to have them sent from Italy, and who’s going to buy them? He’s only
trying to curry favour with his wife’s family, by buying the lemons from them.’ He clasped the offending bill tightly in his hand and looked at Daisy. ‘Are you not joining me? Get
another cup and saucer, and sit down and tell me a bit about yourself.’

Daisy took another cup and saucer from the cabinet. Curiosity was getting the better of her now, and she wanted to know more about the family she had just joined. The cup rattled in the saucer
and the tea slopped slightly as she stirred it. Her nerves were getting the better of her, but at the same time she had an urge to find out more about this forthright man sitting across from her.
Besides, it sounded as if he missed the countryside, and that was a vote in his favour.

‘So, Daisy petal, you lost your husband lately. I’m sorry for my careless words when I arrived. I should have known better. They must have been a shock. My brother let me read the
letter that his friend Bert sent, so I do know a little about you. You must miss your husband, and coming to live with my brother must be a big move for you. Are you sure you’ve done the
right thing? Town life is different from the country, you know. I still find it hard.’ Jim placed his cup down, after taking a long sip from it, and looked at the still-young widow. She was
quite pretty, in a plain way; her ice-blue eyes looked honest and true, her mousy brown hair seemed healthy and clean, and her face was openly kind.

‘I had to get away – start a new life. I didn’t want to stop at Gearstones Lodge for a minute longer, for there were too many memories.’ Daisy took a sip of her tea and
looked at one half of the partnership that she was obviously going to be answerable to. She plucked up the courage to ask him a question, as the conversation seemed to have been all one-way up to
that minute. ‘Is Mr Mattinson’s wife Italian? And you – are you married?’ Daisy quickly wished she had not been so forthright with her last question, because it was followed
by a huge bellow of laughter.

‘Me – married? Nobody in their right mind would have me, my dear. I look and perhaps touch a lot, my dear, but so far nobody has caught me. No, the life of my brother is not for me.
And yes, my bloody stupid brother married an Italian from Skipton. Just to get his hands on some money, I must add. Both her uncle and her father own grocery stores, on Swadford Street and Sheep
Street. They’ve even built their own houses, and now our Bill is following in their footsteps. But I’m not complaining. He’s made me a partner – just as long as he keeps his
head and doesn’t run up too many bills, like this bloody pile on the table. Now, what are we going to do with five hundred bloody lemons, when they land down at the canal wharf? Any
suggestions?’

Daisy was beginning to realize that there was no love lost between the two brothers and perhaps she had joined a family at war. She couldn’t help but think that William Mattinson would not
be happy about his brother airing his dirty washing in public, so she decided to be discreet. ‘How about lemon cheese? It’s a lovely preserve and keeps well, once potted. That would
take a lot of the lemons, and you can charge a good price for it.’

‘What the hell is lemon cheese? I’ve never heard of it, and it sounds revolting.’ Jim pulled a face and leaned back in his chair. ‘Still, we can try it. Come round to the
shop for a lemon or two in the morning, and then surprise me with your concoction. If it gets rid of the bloody lemons, I’m willing to try it.’

‘Lemon cheese is lemons that are grated and squeezed, with eggs and butter and sugar. You bring it to the boil and then, once it’s thickened, you cool it down and pot it. Then you
can spread it on bread and butter, or even in the middle of a cake, if you want.’

‘Never heard of it. Doesn’t sound that good to me, but we’ll give it a try.’

‘You’ll like it – honest, you will. Everyone does.’ Daisy laughed at his reaction. Lemon cheese had been a favourite for afternoon tea back home, so it was a sure bet and
she knew it.

‘Well, Daisy, that’s why we took you on. We wanted some new ideas from a country lass – and a bonny one at that. You should laugh more; it brightens up your face.’

Daisy blushed. She hadn’t been called bonny for a long time, and for a few moments she’d forgotten that she was a grieving widow. Oh, she’d have to watch Jim Mattinson. He was
nothing more than a silver-tongued cad, and she’d seen plenty of them in her time.

‘Thank you, Jim . . . I’ll do the best I can for all the family.’

‘I’m sure you will, Daisy petal. I’ll see you in the morning and supply you with all that you want for the lemon cheese.’ He grinned as he lifted his bowler hat onto his
head. He’d taken a fancy to the little cook. She could be a bit of sport, widow or not.

Daisy didn’t bother putting on her hat and coat. Unlike the previous few days, the sun was shining and the street felt warm as she closed the house door behind her. She
walked down the few steps onto the street. Some children were playing hopscotch while their mothers talked to each other, one with a donkey-stone and scrubbing brush in her hand from cleaning her
three steps. Both were busy with gossip as Daisy passed them; both watched and nodded as she walked quietly by them. She could hear one woman say, ‘He’s dead, you know?’ and the
other gasp, but neither approached Daisy to find out any more.

Daisy pulled her shawl around her and hurried along the sun-soaked pavement. She looked at the terraced row that she now regarded as her home. It was well built and she could tell the residents
were proud of their homes, because the steps were scrubbed and the brass door knockers shone. It wasn’t like some of the back-to-back mill homes she had walked past on the way to Newtown
Terrace. There she had seen true hardship: women standing in doorways, thin and lifeless with hungry bairns on their hips. Why anyone would want children if they couldn’t feed them, she just
didn’t know. And how could they live with a sewer running past their front door? She might have had it rough, but never that bad – her pride had never abandoned her, if nothing
else.

She turned the corner and arrived at Burley Road. This was a busier street with shops on either side and traders yelling as they sold their wares. It was quite a shock for Daisy. The greatest
number of shops she had seen had been in Settle or Ingleton, both of which were small villages with as many shops as there were in the first few yards of Burley Road.

‘Bunch of flowers, missus – here, sweet-smelling phlox, marigolds; they would look a picture, they would, in your home.’ Daisy shook her head and declined the insistent flower
seller. She’d little enough money on her without spending it on flowers, no matter how much they reminded her of home.

She wandered down the street, looking in the windows, amazed at the goods each shop was selling. There were haberdashers, butchers, dressmakers and cobblers, but the one that caught her eye most
was the hat shop, where she gazed into the window, admiring the feathers and flowers that adorned the large, sweeping brims and the beautiful ribbons that tied them together.

‘Daisy, Daisy, are you deaf? I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes.’ Jim Mattinson came running across the street, dodging a horse and trap just in time to grab her
arm before she moved off. ‘I should have known: women and hats, that’s more important than anything else in the world!’

‘I’m sorry, I’ve never seen anywhere as busy as this. I got delayed, and I couldn’t help but admire this window.’

‘Never mind that. We are over here. The signwriter’s just finished our business sign. Come and tell me what you think of the lettering.’ Jim grabbed her by the arm and
propelled her across the street to stand outside the shop’s doorway, above which was newly painted on light-green boarding the words:

‘Very good – it looks wonderful, you must be very proud.’ Daisy smiled at the man beside her, who looked as excited as a five-year-old with a new toy.

‘I just wish our William was here to see it. Him losing James has come at a bad time and taken a bit of the shine out of it, poor bugger.’ Jim stood back and gazed quietly for a
while before blowing his nose. ‘You’ve come for those lemons. I’ve some in the back. I’m just stacking the shelves with dry goods. We had hoped to be open next week, but
with the funeral, it will have to be delayed. William sent word this morning: the funeral is on Friday, so you’ve only another three days, and then William and Angelina will be back.
I’ll not be around on Thursday and Friday, so I don’t know what to suggest you do. I’m not used to giving orders. William is the one for that. But tomorrow why don’t you
come down to the wharf with me? Those bloody lemons will need to be picked up, along with some fresh produce and other groceries. You could unpack them while we are away.’

Jim walked into the shop. The doorbell jangled as he opened the door and waited for Daisy to enter.

The air smelled of paint and fresh wood as Daisy walked across the threshold. A long counter stretched from one end of the shop to the other, and all the walls, except the window that was bare
for a display, were covered with shelving. There were sets of drawers marked up with labels for tea, sugar, coffee, string, spices and dried fruit – anything and everything you could think of
– and large bins for flour and oats, and delicate cake stands awaiting the cakes that would adorn them. Daisy gasped. It was going to be a beautiful shop, but so much work remained to be done
– now she knew why she’d been employed. The Mattinson home would be run by the lady of the house, Angelina, and it was the business that needed her touch. The cakes, the jams, the pies
and the cooked meats that would grace the shelves – that was what William Mattinson had taken her on for.

‘What else do you need for this lemon cheese then?’ Jim walked behind the counter and into a back room, his voice muffled as he produced four lemons from a straw-filled packing
box.

Daisy followed him. ‘Butter, eggs and sugar.’ She watched as he opened the back door of the shop and crossed the yard to a little stone shed that obviously contained the perishable
goods.

He came back carrying what she needed. ‘Sugar is over there – help yourself. And here’s a dozen eggs and a pound of butter. We keep everything like that over there in the shed,
as it’s cooler than in here. William’s going to order the eggs and butter on his trips to Skipton, along with some of the milk, so we hope it’s always going to be fresh.
He’s kept his farm contacts from when he worked as a delivery boy for his father-in-law. He’s not daft that way. I just wish he’d watch the pennies.’ Jim sighed as he passed
Daisy a brown paper bag to put her sugar in.

‘Aye, well, it’s not for me to say, Jim, but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. He seems to have his head screwed on – look at what you’ve got so far.’
Daisy filled her bag and looked at the worried man.

‘Aye, but it’s not all his money. Some of it is mine, and some of it is his father-in-law’s. William’s stopping me from living my life and doing what I want, and
he’s going to be beholden to his wife’s family until he drops down dead. That’s no way to be!’

Daisy looked round the shop. It was a grand place. She was sure William would make money and was determined to help both brothers do so, if only to put Jim’s mind at rest.

‘Right, lass, go and make me this so-called lemon cheese. I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning, sample it for my breakfast and then take you to pick up our delivery on the
canal wharf. Don’t listen to me twaddle on about my worries – it’s not your concern. Besides, our William won’t be suited with me telling you the affairs of the business,
especially when he’s told you absolutely nowt.’ Jim’s mood lightened as he placed his bowler on his head. ‘Right now – bugger this place! I’m off to see a man
about a dog.’ He nearly pushed Daisy out of the shop as he firmly locked the doors behind them both. ‘I’ll be at your door at eight on the dot, and I look forward to sampling your
fare.’ He gave her a wicked wink and sauntered off, whistling his way down the street as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Daisy watched as Jim walked away. She couldn’t help but think what a complex man he was. But then again, she hadn’t really met his brother properly yet. Perhaps William would be even
worse. It seemed that he definitely liked to spend other people’s money.

The autumn sunshine flickered through the kitchen window as Daisy lifted the warm bread out of the oven of the Yorkshire range. It looked lovely and crusty and made the kitchen
smell warm and homely – there was something about the smell of freshly cooked bread that made you feel content. She’d pulled the kettle to one side to take it off the boil and had set
the table ready for her guest. She’d succumbed to the flower seller on her way home and had bought a fragrant bunch of sweet-peas, which were now taking pride of place, along with a
beautifully presented pot of lemon cheese. There, she was ready now.

She’d tossed and turned all night, thinking about her visitor and then the trip into the centre of Leeds. It was exciting, but more to the point,
he
was exciting! Jim was a
different breed of man from the steady Dales men; he was sharp, witty and, most of all, he had elegant good looks. She stopped herself: how could she think like that, her a widow, with a husband
barely cold in his grave? Perhaps Bob’s mother had been right – perhaps she was a whore! Her face blushed as she checked herself in the mirror. She fanned herself with a towel to cool
herself down. How stupid to feel that way over a man she hardly knew.