Terence sat in the kitchen in his usual chair by the stove. Here, during a half hour’s break from his butchery, he enjoyed Ettie’s freshly baked fruit cake and warmed his hands by the stove. She filled their cups with a rich, dark brew and added a little milk.
This was the highlight of her week, when Terence brought her a small, lean chop or leg of fowl or even a little stewing beef. It was Terence who had called at the salon two days after Christmas and discovered Ettie in a severely distressed state. It was Terence who had promised her that life would eventually return to normal.
‘Good news indeed, m’dear, wouldn’t you say?’ the butcher observed.
Although Ettie was cheered by Lucas’s announcement, the shadow of Christmas still hung heavily over her.
‘You brought the couple good luck, m’dear.’
‘And lost them almost a fortune,’ declared Ettie woefully. ‘I was ashamed to write to Mr Benjamin. I couldn’t say what happened in a letter. I’ve decided to wait until the family comes home. I might even be dismissed.’
‘Come now, dear girl,’ objected Terence, ‘the world’s not at an end. You won’t be the first to be twisted, nor will you be the last. Just imagine if they’d pinched something you couldn’t replace? Like a personal treasure. Or maybe a silver hairbrush or box of jewellery.’
‘I packed Mrs Benjamin’s personal belongings in her trunk. There was nothing left here of value.’ Ettie didn’t mention the heavy chest behind the wood panel. Though Terence was a kind and considerate man, she now realized it was dangerous to trust anyone.
‘Good, good,’ nodded Terence approvingly. ‘Grateful for small mercies, eh what?’
‘If only I hadn’t drunk the green fairy.’
‘I’d agree your first testing lesson has come early in life. But it’s one you won’t easily repeat.’
‘I’ll never drink again, Terence.’
‘Aye, aye, nor will you.’
‘And I’ll repay every penny of the debt.’ Ettie was determined to forego her wage in order to replace what had been stolen.
‘Good going m’dear. Though the crime should have been reported to the coppers.’
Ettie had considered this course of action. But Gwen and Lily had disappeared into thin air. She had no evidence at all of the crime. And suppose the police called Lucas back from Switzerland? What would happen then?
She had been done over good and proper – in Terence’s words. For he too, had been done over.
‘They ran up a chit as long as me arm,’ he confessed. ‘Only the best meats, the freshest dairy, the tenderest of cuts. All on the slate. Wolves in sheep’s clothing, young Ettie,’ he said, eyeing her closely. ‘We was fooled. They took advantage, the buggers. Like that young fella who tried it on, sniffing around the salon and making up to you.’
‘I should have known,’ Ettie fretted. ‘Why would strangers be so nice to me?’
‘Cos you are nice,’ Terence answered heartily. ‘Genuinely, honest. You deserve good friends, course you do. But those two, well they had me fooled. And, a lot of others, I’m betting.’
‘Do you really think they danced in a circus?’
’Shouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Gino wore a tattoo of his circus elephant. I thought it very – interesting.’ She blushed as Terence raised an eyebrow.
‘Well now, you know those ladies did more than dancing?’ Terence looked abashed.
Ettie nodded. ‘Gwen told me they enjoyed men’s company.’
‘Mine included,’ the butcher admitted. ‘I paid for Gwen’s services. Wasn’t a hot cup of tea I was after. No, oh no! Truth is, I miss my old Gladys. She passed away five years back. Was a good ‘un too. Helped me in the shop. Had a good eye for the cleaver. Strong as an ox, till the flu got her. Matter of days it was. Nothing I could do about it, neither.’ His eyes grew moist and his voice was husky. ‘Gwen filled a gap. Made me feel like I was special, see, like Glad did. Clever that. Clever. Kept me dangling, so’s my hand was always in my wallet. So ducks, you wasn’t the only one. Fact is, I’m four decades older than you and should have known better.’
‘I’m sorry your wife died.’ Ettie felt a great sympathy for this lonely, hard-looking man who had such a soft inside.
‘You don’t think the less of me?’
‘Why should I?’ Ettie replied softly. ‘We’ve both lost people we love.’
‘You miss them kids from the orphanage, don’t you?’
Ettie nodded. ‘The nuns and the children were my family.’
‘Well, here’s an idea for you. Listen to old Terence. A baby is to come your way. I’ll wager a year’s profits you’ll be nurse and nanny to the tobacconist’s child afore long.’
Ettie had been so deep in her misery that what Terence proposed came as a shock.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘There’s a nursery to be got ready, ain’t there? Toys and such like. Babies’ whatnots. Mittens for its fingers and shoe-sies for its little toe-sies.’
Ettie laughed. Terence always brought a smile to her face.
He frowned. ‘Your good mistress won’t keep it in a drawer, will she?’
‘A baby sleeps in a crib.’
‘A crib, yes, that’s good! We’ll find one.’
‘And he or she will want a shawl.’
‘Them things you wrap ‘em in?’
Ettie laughed again. ’I can knit one.’
‘Perfect m’dear. Perfect!’
‘But where shall I find the wool?’
Terence patted her hand. ‘As your good employer writes, m’dear, God is benevolent,’ Terence said gently. ’Now I must get back to my business. Them dead rabbits won’t jump in my customers’ baskets.’ He stood up and patted his round belly under his mucky apron. ‘Thank you kindly for the tea and cake. There’s a nice bit of liver in the newspaper, there. Fry it up with a potato or two. Last you a few days, m’dear.’
‘Thank you, Terence.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ he chuckled. ‘Now chin up, girl. And think of the baby!’
Chapter 25
It
