For a Father's Pride (15 page)

Daisy heard the door slam as she stirred the simmering onions. Jim was right. She wouldn’t get another fella, smelling and looking like she did, but she didn’t care. She was happy as
she was, cooking in the kitchen and making food for people to enjoy.

‘You shouldn’t let him talk to you like that. I heard him. I was up in the parlour.’ Angelina stood at the kitchen doorway.

‘I didn’t know you were back, I didn’t hear you come in.’ Daisy blushed.

‘Charles is asleep in his perambulator in the back yard. The fresh air will do him good, so I came to sit and have some time to myself. So, Jim thinks I’m an Italian witch –
that’s what my darling brother-in-law sees me as. I could have come down and said what I thought of him, but there are other ways of dealing with ignoramuses, and he will find out one day
exactly what I am.’

‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He says a lot of things without thinking.’ Daisy didn’t like Angelina’s tone of voice. She seemed distant as she looked into the
simmering pan of chutney.

‘Your loyalty is to be commended, but he is no good. He will be the death of my family, and the business, if he’s not stopped. What is this you’re making it? It smells
foul.’

‘It’s onion chutney. You eat it with cooked meat, and I’m labelling the jars ready to put the chutney in. It doesn’t take long to cook, and I’ve opened the windows
down here to let the smell out.’ Daisy picked up one of the labelled jars to show Angelina.

‘Mmm . . . “Mattinson’s Onion Relish”. Does my husband approve?’ Daisy nodded. ‘He knows what you English like to eat. He cannot stand garlic, you know
– I cannot understand why!’ She put the jar down and smiled at Daisy.

‘I can’t say I enjoy it, either. I’ve never cooked with it much.’ Daisy hated garlic, but didn’t dare say that there was no room for it in her cooking.

‘I will give you a recipe for a sauce with garlic in, and we’ll see what we can do. Perhaps we could call that “Petronelli’s Tomato Sauce”, in honour of my father.
He’s a great man.’

‘We could certainly try.’ Daisy smiled. She’d say anything to keep Angelina amused and in the good mood she was currently in.

‘I’ll speak to William tonight, then let you know. We’ll sort something out.’ Angelina smiled. ‘I’ll go and bring Charles back in. The moist evening air is
coming in, and it might do him some harm. Plus it’s nearly time for his feed. Will you be finished in time for me to prepare our supper? William will want something on his return from the
shop. He will be a happy man tonight, with the grand opening tomorrow. He has put so much into the venture, and I am so proud of him.’

‘Yes, don’t worry. I’ll have this cleared away within the hour.’ Daisy’s head was a-flutter. Two women in one kitchen was never going to work, and it was going to
get even worse once the shop opened.

‘Take care, Jimbo my love.’ Susie pulled her skirts down and tied her corset, as Jim buttoned up his breeches.

‘Ah, don’t you worry about me, lass, I can look after myself. But it’s a bugger when I’ve got to get my oats up some back alleyway, like a bloody dog. Next time you come
to me.’ He shoved a sovereign in between Susie’s breasts, his fingers lingering there as he did so.

‘There’ll not be a next time, if you don’t watch out. Old Trotter’s still on the lookout for you, you mark my words.’ Susie slapped his hand and tossed back her
hair.

‘Ah, stupid old git! This is Jim Mattinson, and tomorrow I open my own shop with my brother. I tell you, lass, there will be no catching us. We’ll have a chain of them all across
Leeds. Then will you marry me and become respectable?’

‘Marry you and become respectable? Jim Mattinson, you are not the marrying kind! And well you know it. Now bugger off, before you are found down here on Water Street, and let a poor lass
make a living.’

Susie wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, ran her fingers down Jim’s face and kissed him gently, before wandering out of the shadows onto the wharf edge. She looked quickly back at Jim
as he disappeared into the night. She loved that man, but she was right: he wasn’t the marrying kind. In fact his sort were ten-a-penny.

Daisy’s face was flushed. She’d been up since five o’clock, baking cakes, potting lemon cheese and putting the finishing touches to all the things that were
needed. She looked round the kitchen. She’d tidied up as she went along, and so everything should be in place for Angelina when she came to make breakfast. Now all she had to do was wait for
Jim to come with the cart to pick her up.

She heard the faint cries of baby Charles demanding his morning feed. Soon William would be appearing, no doubt excited about the first day of opening his shop. He’d paid a young lad a
farthing or two to deliver flyers around the surrounding streets, so a good turnout was expected. Daisy slumped down at the kitchen table. She was tired already, and she’d forgotten about all
the early mornings that a baker had to do. When she had been mixing the scone mix in the dim lamplight of the early morning, her thoughts had wandered to home. Were her parents still alive? Was
Kitty still happily married, or had Clifford eventually shown his true colours?

She had remembered the cool autumn mornings, with the dawn rising over Grisedale; the autumn mists following the bubbling stream down the dale; and the spiders’ webs embroidered with
dewdrops as they shimmered in the honeysuckle around the kitchen door. What a young foolish thing she had been, headstrong and jealous of her older sister. Her father had been right: she had led
Clifford Middleton on; but not enough to have done what he did. He was a
bastardo
, as Angelino said.

A loud, heavy knock on the front door made her rouse herself from her thoughts of youth. She threw off her apron and ran up the steps from the kitchen to the hallway. The knocker banged
again.

‘I’m coming, Jim. Hold your horses – these legs will only go so fast.’ Daisy pulled back the bolts on the door and opened it wide, ready for Jim to enter and collect the
goods to be loaded onto the cart.

‘Morning, miss. Is this the home of a William Mattinson?’ A grim-looking man stood on the doorstep, dressed in the uniform of the Yorkshire Constabulary.

Daisy was taken aback. This was the newly formed police force for Leeds. Something must be wrong. ‘Er, yes, it is.’

‘Would you mind getting him for me, miss?’ The constable put his foot in the doorway, making his presence felt.

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Daisy turned round.

‘No need to, Daisy. I’m here.’ William rushed down to the bottom of the stairs, tucking in his shirt as he reached them. ‘What can I do for you, Officer?’

‘I think we should talk in private, sir, if you don’t mind.’ The constable entered the hallway.

‘Of course, of course. Please come in – come into the parlour. Daisy, could you make me some tea? Officer, would you like a cup, and perhaps a slice of toast?’

‘That would be most welcome, sir. Thank you, miss.’

Daisy knew there was something drastically wrong as she boiled the kettle on the range and toasted some slices of bread over the red coals with her toasting fork. She hurriedly laid the tea tray
and buttered the toast, before quickly carrying the tray upstairs and knocking on the parlour door. The room was quiet. William seemed to have aged twenty years in the last five minutes.

‘It’s all right, Officer. Daisy is part of my household.’ William put his head in his hands and then ushered Daisy in, to offer the policeman some refreshment.

‘Sorry, miss, but James Mattinson was found by The Cut this morning, by one of the wharf hands. He’s only just alive and in St Mary’s Infirmary, in a sorry state. Someone has
tried to kill him.’

‘The Cut?’ Daisy gasped. Where was The Cut, and who would do such a thing? Poor Jim – he was a monkey, but he didn’t deserve to be beaten nearly to death.

‘The canal, miss, down on Water Street. We think he’d been drinking, but we can’t be sure. He’s not a pleasant sight, and we can hardly make out what he’s
saying.’

‘Officer, there’s no need for details. Once my wife joins us, I’d prefer for you not to tell her the lurid situation. We’ve recently lost a baby and her nerves will not
stand it. Daisy, are you all right? I know he was with you in the kitchen yesterday. Did he say where he was going last night, or if he was going to meet someone?’ William paced the floor
while the officer tucked into the cooling toast.

Daisy felt her legs trembling and sat down on one of the velvet-upholstered chairs. She remembered Jim’s laughter at her at the bottom of the stairs, and teasing her about smelling of
onions, and the cheeky grin he had given her. ‘No, he didn’t say where he was going. I couldn’t make him a cup of tea because I was making chutney at the time, and he was sick of
the smell. I should have made him a drink.’ She covered her eyes with her hands. ‘I can’t believe he’s fighting for his life.’

‘I can.’ Angelina entered the room. ‘He always lives life to the full – he’s a Jack-the-lad. Is that what you English say?’

‘And you are?’ The constable looked at Angelina, taking in that he had entered a house already in mourning and that both women were in black.

‘She’s my wife, Officer. If you can take me to see James, I’d be grateful. Are you sure it’s my brother you’ve found? I can’t believe someone would attempt to
kill him.’

‘Oh aye, we are certain, sir. He’d one of your bills in his inside pocket, and Ebenezer Trotter recognized him. He was apparently a customer of his at the knocking shop. Sorry,
ladies.’ The constable coughed. ‘I’ll take you to the hospital now. If he’s conscious I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’

‘I’ll come with you now, Officer. My younger brother means everything to me.’ William went into the hallway and grabbed his hat and coat.

‘But the shop, William. It’s your opening day – what about the customers?’ It would appear that Angelina was more concerned about the business than about the nearly dead
Jim.

‘Bugger the shop, woman! This is my brother, and he’s dying in St Mary’s. I need to see him and make sure he’ll live.’ William shoved his arms into his coat and put
on his bowler hat.

Daisy watched the face of Angelina and the hurt of William. ‘I’ll open the shop. I can manage it on my own. I used to help my father with his market stall. If you can carry some
things round for me and open up the shop, I’ll manage. You can’t let folk down on your opening day. Jim wouldn’t want it.’ Daisy looked determined – there was no way
she would accept a refusal.

William hesitated. ‘Are you sure? You’ve worked a full day already.’

‘I’m sure, I just can’t carry all that I’ve made. Can someone help me get it there?’

‘I’ll help, lass. It’s on the way to the hospital anyway. Give us what you want us to carry.’ The constable shoved the last piece of toast into his mouth and waited for
his instructions.

‘She’ll manage – she’s a strong woman.’ Angelina wasn’t going to waste one working day worrying about her wayward brother-in-law. In fact she wasn’t
going to worry about him full stop. She was glad he was going to be out of the picture for a while; it would prove what her husband could do, on his own two feet.

A procession of a police constable, a woman in mourning and a distraught businessman, laden with filled jam jars and baked goods, made their way through the still-sleepy streets of Leeds. This
was not the opening day the Mattinson brothers had foreseen. Daisy looked up at the sign above the shop’s doorway as William unlocked the door, and remembered the cheeky grin of Jim as he
proudly showed her the wording of the sign. Bless him, she thought. She hoped with all her heart that he would be all right, for she had secretly fallen in love with Jim’s cheeky ways. But
she also knew it was like playing with dynamite, if she got too close.

‘I’ll just go up to his rooms and see if he’s left any clues about what he was doing down at the canal. Although, if you don’t mind me saying, sir, we all know the
attractions on Water Street for the single man.’ The constable unloaded his arms of baskets and jars and waited for William to show him the way up to Jim’s rooms.

‘Of course. Here, let me show you the way, though I dread to think what state his rooms are in.’ William opened the door behind the counter that led up to Jim’s rooms and the
two of them went up the stairs.

Daisy listened to the voices from up above as she arranged her jars of pickles and jams and displayed the baked goods, checking that there was enough cash in the till for change, before William
left. Already there were people starting to shop further down the street. It would only be a matter of time before they expected the new shop to be open. Daisy closed her eyes and tried not to see
the cheeky face of Jim, as she remembered him grinning at her from behind the counter. She couldn’t believe it; it seemed to her that any man she took a fancy to died, got beaten within an
inch of his life or was an out-and-out cad. There was something about Jim Mattinson, and she couldn’t stop a tear falling down her cheek as she thought of him fighting for his life in a
hospital bed. She wiped it quickly away; she wasn’t going to show her feelings to William and the constable. Jim would be soon be back, calling her ‘Daisy petal’, before she knew
it.

‘There’s nothing there, sir, to make me suspicious. I think he’s just been set upon. He’d no brass in his pocket, so it’s a case of robbery.’ The policeman
blew his nose on a grey-coloured hankie and shoved it back into his trouser pocket, before viewing the cakes Daisy had put out. ‘Nice-looking shop, sir. I’ll look in from time to time,
see how you are doing.’

‘Thank you, Officer. Daisy, are you all right? Everything’s priced, there’s change in the till, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I seem to be making a habit of throwing
you in at the deep end.’ William gave her a wan smile, before gesturing the policeman out the back door of the shop. The last thing customers wanted to see, on opening a new shop, was a
peeler walking out of it.

Daisy watched the minute-hand on the wall clock ticking slowly around to exactly nine o’clock – time to open up. She tidied her hair, smoothed her apron down and breathed in deeply
as she opened the doors to the crowd that had gathered. Let the trade begin, she thought. She didn’t know how she’d manage, but somehow she damn well would.