‘Oh, yes, sir. We won’t let you down.’

  Greta almost skipped back home that night. How could one little thing change everything? Kitty would be under her eye, away from bad company, safely installed in Stonegate. Mother would have two less mouths to feed and she would have the chance to be a pearl stringer again. God was in his heaven the day he sent her to Mr Abrahams. She would be able to work with pearls all day, help in the shop perhaps, and make sure Kitty did the work to everyone’s satisfaction.

  ‘I’m not being your skivvy!’ Kitty sulked on hearing this news. ‘Scrubbing floors, scouring pans at your beck and call. You tell her, Mam. My hands will be just as red raw.’

  ‘Your backside will be raw, young madam, if you turn down such an opportunity.’ Mother was banging the table in frustration. ‘Stonegate is a respectable address. You will live under the Minster’s watchful eye. Greta has done well for us so be grateful. I think it’s God’s purpose to have you both settled. One of these days there’ll be enough coming in for us to rent rooms far from this midden of a backyard and it will be thanks to all our efforts. It’ll do Tom’s chest good to breathe far from these stinking fumes and damp walls.’

  ‘You have to think of others, not just yourself,’ Greta snapped, seeing the look on her sister’s face. ‘I promise you’ll like it close to fine shops.’

  ‘But not a penny to buy anything in them . . . I don’t suppose you’ll be getting a rise from that old skinflint.’

  ‘Don’t you ever talk about Mr Slinger like that. He’s not old and he’s doing us a good turn.’

  ‘He’s doing himself a good turn.’ Kitty flounced round the table.

  ‘Oh, Kitty, don’t spoil everything. Tomorrow we’ll help him decorate the shop window for Christmas. That will be something different and you can help.’ Greta was looking forward to getting started, she had lots of ideas she wanted to try out.

  ‘Huh!’ Kitty stormed out the door. ‘Remember you promised us chips on the way home.’

  ‘Ungrateful little madam. I don’t know what’s got into her lately. You have no idea what a relief it will be to get her away from these streets. I fear for her, I really do, but at least she has you to guide her into better manners.’ Her mother sighed with relief. ‘You’re a good girl, Greta. You deserve some success.’

  ‘I just want to find a decent place for you and Tom and I don’t care how hard we work to make that happen. Mr Slinger is kind enough in his own way.’

  Mother stopped folding sheets to look at her. ‘You don’t think he’s taken a fancy to you?’

  Greta burst out laughing. ‘What me? Goodness no. All he cares about are his pearls and his business. He’s a strange man. I feel sorry for him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s very canny when it comes to buying and selling but as for anything else. I don’t think he’d know what colour my hair is under my cap.’

  ‘Well, most men stare at Kitty’s copper locks. It turns heads and it’s turning hers, I fear. She’s at a silly age but she’ll be safe under your wing.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep her on the straight and narrow. She’ll be so busy, there’ll be no time for shenanigans. She’s only young and wants to have fun. At least this is a shop and not Serenity Blake’s silent house with its thee and thou ways. Kitty wouldn’t have managed there, that’s for sure!’

  ‘But the lad was kind to you, the son.’

  ‘Oh, poor Edmund, look where it landed him and me. I met Patience in the market the other week and she told me he’s run away from his studies to be a joiner or something. It’s Hamer I feel sorry for, left with his mother. At least I know she’ll never darken the doors of the shop.’ Greta laughed.

  The following day, once the shop had closed, Greta and Kitty climbed the stairs to the attic to sweep out the bedroom where they’d be sleeping. Kitty moaned as they scrubbed the floor, made up the iron bed for two and dusted the cobwebs from the corners of the room. Greta found a guzunder pot, water jug and towels for them both. It was a cheerless room in need of a lick of paint but the advantage of living-in meant there would be no more traipsing through the snowy streets at dawn and dusk.

  When they’d finished, Greta opened the window to let in some chill air. Spread out before her was a wonderful view of the Minster in the dusk. The city’s rooftops sparkled with frost and smoke from the chimneys spiralled upwards into the still night air. There was a kind of magic about these ancient streets, where once the Roman legions had marched on their way north. Now the brass band played Christmas carols on the street corners and all the shops were festooned with decorations. Greta sensed it would be good to wake up to this view each morning, even if the Minster’s chimes kept them awake all night.

  Later she sat with Kitty by the range in the basement kitchen to sample the stew her sister had prepared earlier under her supervision. Greta showed her the cupboards and the larder and working table. Kitty would need watching but tonight was a night to relax under this new regime. ‘You stay down here until the bell rings for you and he’ll ring again to clear away.’

  ‘Are you eating with him?’

  ‘Of course not but I promised to help with the window. You can stand in the street and see how it looks when we’re finished.’

  ‘Ta very much and catch my death?’

  ‘Kitty, this is your chance, don’t ruin it before we’ve even begun. I know it’s not what you want but give it a go for Mam’s sake.’ Greta tried to stay calm and not criticize again. ‘Here’s a list of duties in order, shall I read them out.’

  ‘I can read just as well as you. Go and make a fool of yourself upstairs.’

  Greta could feel her fury rising like bile in her throat. Take no notice, don’t let her see she’s got to you, she said to herself. Yet she was nervous going up those stairs, she felt as if she were entering a new phase of her life. Kitty was not going to spoil it for her by putting her in a bad mood. She’d dressed with care and, for once, put on the necklace that Mr Abrahams had left to her to bring her luck. Earlier that day she’d collected the broken branches of a Christmas fir tree that had been left for rubbish at the market then gathered them into a bunch to stick in a plant pot, which she’d covered with silvery paper. The branches were packed so tightly they stayed upright.

  ‘I wondered if we could use this as a starting point, to hang bracelets and necklaces on,’ she said to Mr Slinger, showing him what she’d done so far. ‘Could we make a star out of brooches all clustered together?’ she suggested.

  ‘You have put some thought into this,’ Slinger replied, ignoring Greta’s creation and instead eyeing her necklace with interest. ‘That’s a fine piece you’re wearing.’

  Greta fingered the chain and smiled. ‘Mr Abrahams left me this in his will. It was his wife’s favourite pearl so I feel honoured to wear it.’

  ‘It’s a very fine pearl indeed. He had good taste.’

  ‘It came from his wife’s family. The Abrahams were together fifty years and very contented in marriage, I think. That’s what matters, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but you must take care of such a fine pearl. It will be valuable, too valuable for everyday use. What else did he give you?’

  ‘Just this, and I’ve brought it here for safe keeping. I thought you’d like to see it. I’ll wear it on my wedding day. I hope it will bring good fortune.’ Greta made for the shop window. ‘Do you want to start?’

  ‘All this fuss over window dressing but you are right, Miss Costello, it’s the little details that matter. We humans are always attracted to shiny things, just like jackdaws. Trinkets and pretty baubles will bring the customers into the shop then it will be worth this effort,’ he said, turning to the task in hand.

  ‘We all love brightness at Christmas. I love to look in the toyshop windows. It cheers you up on dark winter afternoons. How will you be spending your Christmas, sir?’

  ‘What I do every day of the year. I shall be in the shop, filling in my inventory while drinking a glass of fine port and maybe a visit to the Minster to hear the choir.’

  ‘You have no family close by then?’ Greta asked.

  ‘I have no family. Now is that enough shiny bits?’

  Greta smiled and nodded. ‘Too much looks cheap, doesn’t it? Getting the balance is what matters but I think it looks enticing, sir.’

  ‘That’s a big word for you to use.’

  Greta bristled. ‘I may be a servant but I was taught my letters.’ She blushed at her forwardness.

  ‘Of course, I made an assumption. Forgive me.’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive. If that’s all,’ she paused, looking at her handiwork. ‘I promised to let Kitty have a look before you lock the shop for the night. Please ring when supper is required.’ When she went downstairs Kitty was fast asleep and the fire was almost out.

  Greta had been so looking forward to decorating the window but the experience had been spoiled by Mr Slinger’s superior comments. Why did men think they knew it all when they knew nowt? She was pleased at how the jewels sparkled on the branches through the window panes. The mirror looked like an icy pond. Even Kitty grudgingly admitted that it looked like fairyland as she shivered on the cobbles to give her judgement. Now they must remove the jewels for safe-keeping until the morning and close the shutters.

  Lying in the hard bed, hearing Kitty snoring and the Minster clock chiming, Greta hoped she was doing the right thing in bringing her sister here. She only hoped Kitty wouldn’t let the side down with sloppy work but she would watch her like a hawk. This was her big chance. All that mattered was that Mr Slinger taught her the art of pearl threading and knotting, gave her a lift up to a better position, then everything would be worthwhile.

  15

  In the weeks that followed Kitty’s arrival and Christmas, Eben’s quiet routine took a surprising upturn. It was the girl’s hair that he found hard to ignore. It reminded him of the red-headed beauty in Burne-Jones’s paintings. He caught glimpses of Kitty’s burnished gold locks when she was off duty. Her skin was pearly white, her features sharp, and her hooded eyes questioning and insolent. He knew Margaret was covering for her sister’s laxity but for some strange reason Eben didn’t mind.

  There was something about Kitty Costello that haunted his imagination, and he dreamt of her hair roped with pearls, the texture of those silky locks sliding through his fingers. He awoke aroused and ashamed, for the girl was too young to be the subject of such lust and she would be shocked at his longings.

  The females filled the once quiet house with laughter and chatter. Margaret was reliable and steady, quick to learn with those delicate fingers and keen eye, while Kitty pranced around forgetting her chores. Ned, his apprentice, was smitten with Kitty too, blushing every time she appeared. Perhaps she would have to go.

  In a bold move, he had decided to let Margaret assist in the shop on busy Saturdays in the run up to Christmas. She wore a black dress and her hair upswept under a cap. Her pleasant manner with the customers made her an asset to his business. Her Christmas window attracted much attention and brought in some new customers. Under his strict supervision she opened and closed the cabinet doors, rearranged the window displays and fetched and carried stock when required. A female shop assistant was a novelty and not a little daring. She was utterly dependable, not like her minx of a sister who was sloppy and uninterested in her duties. How could two girls be so different? Eben was curious enough to know more about their family and on an impulse suggested they invite their mother to afternoon tea one Sunday afternoon.

  ‘That’s kind of you, sir,’ Margaret replied. ‘But I’m not sure she would be comfortable. It’s not usual for a master to—’

  He interrupted her comment. ‘I thought it proper for her to see your position here. After all these months, it might be a pleasant outing for her?’

  And that was how he came to meet Sadie Costello, a faded little woman, quietly dressed in her shabby widow weeds. Sitting bolt upright in the drawing room she watched her daughters waiting on her with amusement. ‘I hope my girls are doing their duty by you,’ she offered.

  ‘Certainly, Margaret is learning to string and sort pearls. Kathleen is young and full of spirit. She does her best,’ was all he could say, trying not to blush. ‘I am grateful you allowed them both to live-in.’ It was an awkward meeting.

  Mrs Costello sat nibbling on her macaroon while the girls hovered nearby. ‘I’m so proud of them,’ she added. ‘They work hard so that Tom and I might find better rooms away from the river dampness and now with your employment . . . How can I thank you, Mr Slinger?’

  ‘Not at all.’ He looked away awkwardly. ‘We must all help each other in life.’

  ‘And I’ve not forgotten how you came to Greta’s rescue over that gold watch business. I owe you an eternal gratitude for that. I know my girls are safe under your roof When she left, he basked in the warm glow of her praise. It was not something he was used to in life. Perhaps there was something he could do to help this family achieve their goal, some little service that might also be to the benefit to his business. He would give this some thought.

  ‘Don’t you find old Slinger creepy?’ Kitty was lying on her bed. ‘He was so oily with Mother.’

  Greta was folding away clothes into their pine chest. ‘I thought he was most gracious and kindly to her, and don’t be disrespectful of your employer. Besides, he’s not old. We should be grateful to him for taking you on. You’ve not exactly covered yourself with glory these past weeks.’

  ‘But he gets two for the price of one, I reckon. He has you serving shop, cooking and working at the bench.’ Kitty was unrepentant.

  ‘I don’t mind, I’m learning and you don’t get wages for learning.’ Greta felt her hackles rising at Kitty’s lack of gratitude.

  ‘So just when am I going to get out of that basement and do what I want to do? We’ve been here ages and I’m bored with being a skivvy.’

  ‘Kitty! Why are you never satisfied? We have to get Mam and Tom into proper rooms, and I’ll do anything to make that happen and so must you.’

  ‘Oh, here comes the blessed Margaret of Walmgate on her high horse again,’ Kitty snapped, pulling the counterpane over her head. ‘I want to work at Madame Millicent’s across the road. She says I have just the face for modelling her creations and my hair is perfect for this season’s colours.’

  ‘Hat trimmings, is that all you think about? You know that’s not possible. I can’t live here alone and I can’t pay for your apprenticeship. Where do you get these ideas from?’

  ‘Then get old Slinger to pay for me. He likes me, and you, of course. You could make him sweet on you and then we’d all be made up.’

  Greta threw a shirt across the bed. ‘Kitty! What a dreadful thing to say. He’s my employer, nothing more. How can you think such things?’

  ‘Easy. You want Mother settled and Tom to finish his schooling . . . You could make it happen if you set your mind to the job.’

  ‘But I don’t see Mr Slinger in that way at all,’ she argued, sensing she was blushing.

  ‘So? Why not look at him in that way and see what happens.’

  Greta was shocked and blew out the candle. ‘I’m not listening to any more of this nonsense. Go to sleep.’ She stared up at the darkness, her heart lurching with a fear. If Kitty carried on like this, they would both have to leave. Set her cap at Eben Slinger indeed, what a ridiculous notion and yet . . . There was both sense and madness in Kitty’s reasoning.

  He was a tradesman of note, a youngish bachelor in a secure position, but that was all. He wasn’t handsome or attractive to her in any way. Besides she was his servant, his shop girl, inferior in class and education. The whole idea was both ungodly and wicked. But sleep wouldn’t come that night as she tossed and turned unsettled by the troublesome thought that a decent marriage would see her family secure for life.

  Eben woke sweating from his dream. They’d lain naked, wrapped together, a rope of pearls coiled over her breasts, her nipples pink like conch shells, erect to his touch, her legs open to receive him as his fingers nuzzled into her depths and her hands stroked him to ecstasy.

  His cabinet of pearly queens was no match for the reality of Kitty Costello and it wouldn’t do. But perhaps he could use them to work his way into her affections. A girl like Kitty wanted bright things: silks, hats to show off the colour of her hair, pearl-encrusted slippers . . . He sat up in bed, suddenly knowing such a girl must be wooed with pretty trinkets and gifts if he were ever to feel those tresses in his fingers. This would be a dangerous plan. She was too young and Margaret kept her on a tight rein, covering for her mistakes. Her very presence was temptation in the house. Perhaps it would be better to separate them in some way.

  Yet if he replaced Kitty, Margaret might also feel she must leave too and she was by far the better asset of the two now she was almost trained up and used to his business dealings. How could he secure her services and achieve Kitty’s continuing presence? Eben drew a deep breath. It was obvious there was only one way, even though it was unthinkable. He’d be the laughing stock of Stonegate but if he married his employee it would benefit everyone. Kitty could be sent across to the milliner, Madame Millicent, to work – goodness knows the girl spent most of her time there, trying on hats and admiring herself in the looking glass – while Margaret could continue helping with the business. Kitty would be close at hand just across the street and he could seduce her with gifts of pearls and gems.

  He felt a rush of strange emotions. To give up his freedom for wedlock was ridiculous. But Margaret was a fine-looking servant, and eager to please. He could do far worse given his past failures with women, who never matched up to his exacting standards. Even her proper name was suitable: Margaret, the pearl.

  Two weeks later, Eben made his way past a row of dilapidated old shop buildings, beer houses and ramshackled houses, searching out where the Costellos lived. He was shocked by the sight and stench of poverty around him. He held a handkerchief over his nose. Men in shirtsleeves and caps stared at him when he asked for directions. He clung to his belongings and bent his head until he found their address. Sadie Costello, elbow deep in soapsuds and scrubbing on a board, was startled by this unexpected arrival. Eben took off his hat and smiled.