The Bonbon Girl - Linda Finlay

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the top Emily had designed for her and concocting a potage from a gaverick begged from old Mr Paul and flavoured with dried herbs. Her father hated all things crab, but he’d told her to try different things, hadn’t he? Lost in thought, she sat on the seat, the shadows lengthening around her. Surely Kitto should have been here by now?

      ‘Oh Mammwynn, if only you knew what’s been going on,’ she sighed. A sudden gust of wind shook the rowan branches. Unable to keep still any longer, she dropped to her knees and began tugging at the weeds that were sprouting between the plants. It was heartening to free the brave little dog violets, red valerian and yellow Alexanders that always bloomed early. Perhaps she’d pick some and make a salad with the pungent leaves. She smiled as she imagined her father’s face if she did. The work was soothing and it was satisfying to see the plot beginning to look neat and tidy again. Why, even the herbs were showing signs of new growth. Blow father and his ruling she shouldn’t get her hands dirty, she thought, staring down at her grime encrusted nails.

      It had grown quite dark and still Kitto hadn’t arrived. Disappointment flooded through her. Surely, he wasn’t getting his own back for her not showing up on Sunday? The necklace stabbed her chest.

      ‘No, he wouldn’t do that, would he, Mammwynn?’ she murmured. The rowans waved their branches wildly, the necklace stabbed again. ‘Oh Mammwynn, I know you’re trying to tell me something, but what?’ An image of Kitto’s grim-faced determination the previous morning rose before her and she felt a frisson of fear snake through her body. Something was wrong. Shivering, she pulled her shawl tighter round her then, all thought of salad and food forgotten, she ran as fast as she could to Kitto’s hovel on the hill.

      It was in darkness and, heart hammering, she banged on the door.

      With only the stars to brighten her way, Colenso hurried through the dark lanes, thoughts tumbling round her head like the weeds around Mammwynn’s plants. Why hadn’t Kitto turned up? Where were his mother and siblings? Why was the hovel in darkness? By the time she reached home and lifted the latch, the church clock was chiming six.

      ‘Where’ve you been?’ her father snarled. Still in his coat, he was sitting at the table eating his supper, knapsack at his feet. ‘And what the ’ell’s this muck? Come in starving after a hard day’s work and what do I get? This gloppy gloop, that’s what.’ He lifted his bowl and for one moment she thought he was going to throw it at her. ‘You knows how I hates crab,’ he added petulantly.

      ‘That’s all the fishermen caught. Besides, you told me to cook something different, Father, so I did,’ Colenso retorted, her mind still on Kitto.

      ‘Yes, som’at fancy for when you entertains, not the guts of a gudderin’ gaverick. And a man shouldn’t have to come home to an empty house neither. Gawd knows where your mother is. Where’ve you been anyhow? I told you to stay indoors and make som’at decent to wear on Sunday.’ Colenso let his tirade wash over her as she quickly slipped her ring into her pocket before taking off her bonnet and shawl and hanging them on the nail by the door. Why he expected life to revolve around him she’d never know. And it was so cold in here. Would it have hurt him to stoke the fire? As she bent over to riddle the range, his arm snaked out and grabbed hold of her shoulder.

      ‘I asked you a question, maid,’ he growled. ‘And what the ’ell’s this?’ He frowned at her earth-encrusted hands.

      ‘I needed some air after being cooped up indoors so I went to see Mammwynn. Weeds were choking her plants and …’ she began.

      ‘I’ll blinkin’ choke you, girl. Didn’t I tell you to look after them hands? Mr Fenton don’t want a maid with roughened skin. He wants a lady, someone who takes care of herself and wears fine clothes. Someone he can show off when he invites his quarry-owner friends to supper.’

      ‘I’m not some displaying peacock,’ she snapped. His eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Get and wash them filthy mitts, then show me what you’ve sewed,’ he ordered, but Colenso was already taking herself out to the pump. If only she could take herself out of here forever.

      She winced as the icy water stung like nettles. Ignoring the chill wind blowing in from the sea, she stood staring up at the star-studded heavens. What could have happened to Kitto? It was the thought of seeing him that had kept her going through the long, lonely day. And why wasn’t Mrs Rowse at home? Usually she’d be preparing supper for when Kitto returned from the works.

      ‘How many hands you washing?’ As her father’s strident voice reverberated across the yard, she let out a heartfelt sigh and made her way back indoors. ‘Now show me this top you’re making and it had better be good or …’ his voice trailed away as he fingered his belt.

      Removing his bowl, which despite his protestations was now empty, she wiped the surface of the table.

      ‘Hurry along, girl, I’m already late for my appointment.’ And we all know where that is, she thought, carefully laying out the teal silk bodice she’d cut and tacked. ‘Well, I’ll be …’ her father whistled, hazel eyes gleaming in the candlelight. ‘At least you had the sense to swipe some decent stuff. He’ll go goggle-eyed when he sees you in that. Won’t be able to keep his hands off you.’ The very idea made Colenso’s stomach turn but her father was beside himself. ‘Seize the chance, maid, and you’ll be wearing finery like this all the time. A works manager be a far better catch than some apprenticed turner. Especially one with grand plans.’

      ‘I don’t suppose you saw Kitto today, Father?’ Colenso asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

      ‘So happens I did,’ he replied with a gleeful grin. ‘Got called into Fenton’s office, didn’t he? Still there when I left an’ all,’ he crowed. ‘Well, I’m off to celebrate, maid. You can tell your mother I’ll be late,’ he added, ramming his cap on his head and heading out into the night.

      Colenso frowned. Why would Kitto be summoned to Fenton’s office? Had the manager worked out who’d been turning the souvenirs she’d fashioned? Or had Kitto ignored her warning and spoken to him about their relationship? He was a proud man and fiercely protective of her.

      The door clattering open interrupted her musing, and her mamm scuttled in, closely followed by her brother.

      ‘Waited round the corner till your father disappeared into the alehouse. Couldn’t face all his questions as to why I was late,’ Caja said.

      ‘We’ve just come from there ourselves,’ Tomas explained. ‘A fight broke out earlier and one of the men got hurt. Only a split lip but it wouldn’t stop bleeding so I got Mamm to look at it.’

      ‘Oh?’ Colenso asked, her eyes widening.

      ‘Don’t worry, sis, no one you know,’ he winked, then looked serious. ‘Though a certain someone would do well to keep his mouth shut about his theories on how long the serpentine will last in the cities. Doesn’t do to upset this new manager. He’s got big plans and won’t let anyone get in his way.’

      ‘What plans?’ Colenso asked, thinking of her father’s earlier comment.

      ‘To expand the works further so he can supply more shopfronts and mantle surrounds to the finest stores and houses in London. He’s impatient to start straight away but it’s caused bad feeling between the quarriers and labourers,’ he said, throwing his cap on the nail next to hers then settling himself in his father’s chair.

      ‘Just you go and wash before you sit yourself down, Tomas Carne,’ Caja remonstrated.

      ‘Yes, Mamm.’ He gave a wry grin but duly got to his feet again.

      ‘Why has it caused bad feeling?’ Colenso asked.

      ‘The quarriers have been promised bonuses if they bring in larger pieces of the best-quality serpentine. One of them was boasting how much he could earn and that was it. Surprised Father wasn’t there, being as how

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