The Bonbon Girl

‘I didn’t realize. Mamm has all her receipts so I’ll get her to look it out,’ Colenso offered.

‘Thanks, maid. Now, eat yer food while I think of a way we can outwit that old pessack.’ Colenso smiled as she picked up her bread. A rotten old pilchard described Fenton perfectly. He was ancient and probably smelled of decay, although she had no intention of getting close enough to find out. She’d just finished eating when Emily shouted, making her jump.

‘Got it, me lover. We’ll design a top that teases but protects your modesty at the same time. Now listen up, this is what we’ll do.’

✳

Dusk was falling as Colenso made her way to Mammwynn’s seat. She’d spent the day sewing 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.

Chapter 7

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 he’s always complaining about his pay.’

‘Got his sights set on higher things, has Father,’ Caja replied, looking pointedly at Colenso. ‘Now go and wash, Tomas, so we can eat.’ Then she saw the teal top on the table and her eyes widened. ‘Nice bit of fabric, that. Glad to see you’ve taken Father’s advice,’ she winked, running her hand over the soft silk. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a spare bit for me?’ Colenso shook her head.

‘Emily kindly gave me enough material to make myself a decent top. In return I’m to help her with the new orders she’s received.’

‘Decent?’ Caja hooted. ‘That’ll send old Fenton’s pulse racing like one of them steam trains.’ Seeing the look in her mamm’s eye and not wishing her to see what else she’d been working on, Colenso quickly folded the material back in the brown paper. As she was putting it away in the dresser, she remembered something Kitto had said the previous day.

‘You promised to let Mrs Rowse know I wouldn’t be able to meet him last Sunday, but Kitto never got any message, Mamm.’

Caja slapped her hand to her forehead. ‘Why, in all the excitement of meeting Mr Fenton, I clean forgot. I am sorry,’ she said, sounding anything but. Clearly she would have to make her own arrangements in future, Colenso thought, vowing to see Kitto before the weekend.

However, much to her disappointment, as she was stealing out of the cottage early the following morning, her father caught her by the arm.

‘Sneaking off, was you? And what’s this?’ he hissed, trying to wrench the ring from her finger. ‘Give it here, now.’ Glowering, he held out his hand and Colenso knew she had no choice but to give him the ring. She watched in despair as he hurled it into the distant bushes where there was no chance of her ever finding it.

‘Try leaving again before Sunday and you’ll feel this like never before, defiant wench,’ he shouted, cracking his belt in front of her face. ‘It’s your mother’s fault for not being strict enough, so disobey again and she’ll get it too, understand?’

Hearing a squeak and seeing her mamm’s frightened face peering down the stairs, Colenso knew she had little choice.

✳

That Sunday, having suffered the agony of sleeping with her hair in rags, Colenso was made to follow the same bathing ritual as before. Then, feeling the need for as much protection from Fenton’s leers as possible, she let the curls tumble around her shoulders. However, her mamm, anxious to keep her husband happy, was having none of it.

‘Come here, Colenso. A lady doesn’t wear her hair down,’ Caja tutted, grabbing the brush and coiling her tresses artfully into a knot at the nape of her neck. ‘Now, go and get changed. It won’t do to keep Mr Fenton waiting.’

Reluctantly, Colenso went upstairs and donned her new top, smoothing it down over her everyday skirt for there was no way she could afford a new one. Still, she doubted Ferret Fenton would look low enough to notice. Checking her appearance in the fly-spotted mirror, she saw luminous dark eyes staring back from a white, pinched face. The teal of the top suited her colouring and at any other time she’d have been thrilled to be wearing it. However, the prospect of having to spend the afternoon with a fusty old ferret made her stomach turn. But neither did she relish the idea of being thrown in gaol, she thought, throwing on the shawl she’d smuggled upstairs earlier.

‘Hurry up, maid. Mr Fenton’ll be here d’reckly,’ her father bellowed, but Colenso waited until she heard the trap pull up outside before descending the stairs.

‘Oh, Colenso, you can’t wear that old thing,’ Caja cried, tugging the shawl from her shoulders. There was a stunned silence as her parents stared at her in dismay.

‘What the ’ell you done with that top? You can’t see them …’ her father finally spluttered, waving his hand in front of her.

‘A lady should never reveal too much flesh, Father,’ Colenso replied sweetly. How clever it had been of Emily to suggest adding an overlay of spider-gauze edged with lace to the silk bodice. ‘Now, if you give me back my shawl, I’ll be on my way. You don’t want me catching a chill, do you?’ she asked. Reluctantly her mamm handed back the shabby garment, sighing loudly as Colenso knotted it tightly round her neck. Then, heedless of the fancy hairstyle, Colenso rammed her bonnet on her head and strode out of the door. If she had to go through with this farce, she’d at least be closeted in as many clothes as possible.

‘Colenso, my dear,’ Fenton smiled, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. ‘Allow me,’ he added, holding out his hand to help her up.

‘The church is only over there so we can walk,’ she told him, gesturing to her right. He frowned, then shook his head.

‘No need to muddy our shoes, my dear. Come along.’ Reluctantly she took his proffered hand, grateful he was wearing buckskin gloves so that she didn’t have to actually touch him. Smartly dressed in a dark greatcoat and top hat, with black leather brogues to match, he looked out of place amongst the villagers who were eyeing them curiously. ‘I’m looking forward to our little outing,’ he said before shouting to the driver to take them to Ruan.

‘But you won’t find a better example of serpentine workmanship than that of Grade lectern, Mr Fenton …’ she began.

‘Leave the detail to me, my dear. And do call me Henry,’ he smiled, patting her knee. ‘I would have preferred to use the carriage but Dobson said he wouldn’t risk driving it down these rutted tracks. ‘Now, tell me something about this, er, hamlet you live in. Cadgwith is an unusual name, is it not?’ Resigned to her fate, she nodded.

‘Cadgwith – or Porthcaswyth as it used to be called – means cove or landing place of the thicket. I think that’s quite fitting really, don’t you?’ she said, making a sweeping gesture from the sea below, where the fishing boats were pulled up on the beach, to the trees above from where the calls of warblers and chiffchaffs sounded. ‘The view is quite beautiful.’

‘Indeed, it is,’ he murmured, staring at her and not the scenery.

‘And it’s a friendly place. Everyone helping each other, you know? Of course, we all have to work hard,’ she gabbled, feeling more disconcerted by the moment.

‘Quite,’ he nodded, his gaze seeming to devour her. Just when she thought she’d scream with frustration, his attention was caught by a cottage they were passing. ‘Good heavens, whatever is that door doing up in the air?’ he asked, frowning up at the entrance beneath the eaves of the roof. Several feet above the ground, it had no steps leading up to it.

‘That’s what they used in the old days to empty out the gazunders,’ she said, trying not to laugh when he cringed. Of course, it would never do to reveal that it was as an escape route for when press gangs descended upon the village. Luckily, before he could ask any more questions they’d left the village behind and were passing Mammwynn’s resting place. Colenso silently promised to visit her soon and then they turned the corner and Ruan church loomed before them. Jumping down, she pointed to the stonework of the tower.

‘Good serpentine blocks, eh, Mr Fenton?’ He gave a nod and followed her inside.

To Colenso’s relief, even though it was between services, the church bustled with visitors. Fenton clicked his teeth in annoyance and after a cursory glance at the font, he took Colenso’s arm and ushered her back outside.

‘Very good, but I had no idea it would be so busy,’ he frowned, handing her up into the trap.

‘The carved bench ends are quite magnificent too,’ Colenso told him, moving as close to the edge of the seat as she dared as he sat down right beside her. He nodded then instructed his driver to take them straight to Mullinsa.

‘It’s too cold a day to be roaming the countryside,’ he murmured by way of explanation. ‘The establishment I’ve been recommended has a roaring fire and does splendid refreshments,’ he added, turning to face her again. Then the trap lurched and his gaze lowered to her front, eyes widening like saucers as her bosoms were rocked from side to side.

‘I’m sure Mamm would make us some,’ Colenso said quickly, grabbing the side and willing her body to stay still.

‘Very kind, I’m sure, but we don’t want to put her to any trouble, do we?’ he replied, regaining his composure. Then, to her relief, his attention was distracted by the scattered mounds of spoil from the small quarries along the cliffs.

She relaxed back in her seat, her thoughts turning to Kitto. She wondered what he was doing. How she longed to be with him instead of this creepy works manager with his oily smile and fancy way of speaking. Why, he didn’t even notice the Cornish Heath that only grew on the serpentine or the mauve heather, golden gorse, purple betony, or creamy primroses that were blooming in the hedgerows. Kitto would have stopped and picked her a posy to take home. Kitto! If she ate her tea quickly, perhaps she’d be home in time to call and see him.

Even as her spirits rose, she knew it was a futile thought, for dusk fell quickly this time of year. Besides, it was rumoured a smuggling run was due in and no sensible person ventured out after dark then. Although the preventatives were vigilant, the seasoned smugglers who fiercely believed in their right to free trade went to great lengths to ensure nobody came between them and their booty. The village and caves were a veritable warren of secret tunnels and cellars where contraband was hidden until it could be safely moved on.

As they traversed the breadth of the flat peninsula, she remembered the story of old Mrs Arthur who, having a fondness for brandy, refused to move from her chair when the customs officers descended to search her cottage. Apparently, she’d clutched her chest and groaned until – afraid she was having a heart attack – they’d fled. Then, with a grin, she’d got to her feet, removed the rug covering the hatch and calmly climbed down her cellar steps to celebrate with a fresh bottle.

‘Well, here we are, my dear.’ She jumped as she felt a hand on her arm then realized they’d stopped outside an imposing stone building perched high on a cliff. Even on a dull day like this, you could see right across Mounts Bay to Penzance. ‘Our competitors are over there,’ Fenton announced, as if telling her something new. She shook her head, for everyone on The Lizard knew they competed for business with the works at Wherrytown.

‘By the time I’ve finished here, Poltesco will be booming and they will be but a distant memory. Dead as the dust in their works,’ he boasted, turning to her with a satisfied smile. ‘We’ve all the resources and men we need at Poltesco. The materials come in through the back door and are wheeled out of the front, straight onto the boats.’ Colenso bit her tongue, for again he was telling her things she already knew. But the Ferret was in his stride. ‘Railway or not, there’s no way they can compete with that.’ Then his expression changed. ‘Still, enough of business, it’s time for us to get to know each other better, is it not?’ he murmured, moving closer until his thigh was resting against hers.

Seeing that glint spark in his eyes once more, she could stand it no longer and leapt down from the trap.

Chapter 8

Colenso heard a muttered oath, followed by a thud and then footsteps hurrying after her. However, when Fenton reached her side, he just smiled knowingly and took her arm.

‘The finest hotel on The Lizard,’ he announced grandly. ‘I take it you’ve not been here before?’

‘I can’t say I remember,’ Colenso replied sweetly, refusing to rise to his gibe. She could never afford to come somewhere like this and he knew it. These fine new places were springing up all over the peninsula to cater for the tourists and artists who, inspired by the beautiful serpentine gifts and unusual flora and fauna, had begun descending in their droves. They had money to spend and the hotels were quick to capitalize on it.

A blast of warmth hit them as they entered the grand foyer with its plush red carpets and huge log fire blazing in the ornate stone fireplace. A man sporting a dark uniform with a red waistcoat hurried to greet them and, much to Colenso’s consternation, insisted he take their outer garments.

‘Won’t feel the benefit when you go outside again, else,’ he whispered, seeing her dismay. ‘Your table is ready for you, Mr Fenton,’ he announced, showing them through to a private lounge overlooking the water where another fire was burning brightly, this time in a magnificent fireplace of green serpentine. Colenso stared around the smallish room with its solitary table set for two. For the second time that afternoon, she vowed to eat as quickly as she could, and when the waiter appeared bearing a tray laden with triangles of sandwiches, scones, cream and jam, she realized it would be no hardship. And the Ferret couldn’t expect her to make conversation because it was rude to talk with your mouth full, wasn’t it?

However, she hadn’t bargained for Mr Fenton’s own table manners. Apart from ensuring her plate was never empty, he tucked into his own food, staring thoughtfully out across the bay. It was only when they were sipping their tea that he spoke.

‘Well, that was delicious, don’t you think?’ he asked, leaning so close she caught the tang of his lemony cologne. However, he was more interested in trying to peer through the oyster spider-gauze covering her blouse than in her answer. Instinctively she sat back in her seat and his lips curled into a smirk.

‘I expect this is rather different to the way you normally spend your Sunday afternoons.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, thinking that, however lavish the food had been, it was the company that mattered and she’d rather be sharing a picnic of stale bread and cheese with Kitto.

‘This could become a regular occurrence, you know,’ he told her, nodding his head as if to add weight to his words. She watched the whiskers beneath his nose bob up and down and thought how much like a ferret he really did look. Then when he removed a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his lips with paw-like hands, she had to turn away before she burst out laughing.

‘I understand that it was Mr Rowse who did the turning on your, er, craft works, Colenso,’ he said. The tone of his voice told her this was more than a casual remark and she sobered immediately.

‘Er, yes,’ she replied, endeavouring to keep her voice steady.

‘And a splendid job he did too,’ he smiled.

‘Kitto is very talented and wants to become a master craftsman,’ she told him proudly. Henry Fenton studied her for a long moment.

‘Like him much, do you?’ Colenso nodded and his expression hardened. However, the next moment he was smiling again.

‘I too am an ambitious man, my dear. And when I set my heart on something, I do anything and everything to make sure I get it.’ He paused and stared at her, grey eyes like pebbles. Suddenly she felt the necklace tighten and put her hand to her chest to stop it from digging in. He flushed, his eyes widening as they followed her movement. Cursing silently, she placed her hands in her lap.

‘You were telling me about your plans,’ she reminded him. He continued staring for another moment before raising his head.

‘It is my intention to have a showroom built at Poltesco similar to the one we already have in London. Obviously, it will exhibit only the finest quality pieces.’

‘You mean I can continue with my work, then?’ Colenso asked excitement rising, for she missed the satisfaction she derived from seeing the dull stone turn into useful items gleaming with vibrancy.