The Sweethearts Collection. Pam Jenoff

the floor as his hazel eyes surveyed her. He was sporting a white apron over his twill shirt and looked to be in his late twenties.

      ‘I smelt burning and saw a cloud of smoke but couldn’t find anyone,’ Colenso told him. ‘Whatever was in that pot was boiling over.’ She gestured to the sink. ‘I’m afraid it’s made a dreadful mess of your stove.’ At another snore from the corner, the younger man sighed.

      ‘That was sugar syrup and you have clearly saved us from disaster, Miss …?’

      ‘Carne, sir. Colenso Carne.’

      ‘Well, Miss Colenso Carne, you have my undying gratitude. I am Garren Goss and the man asleep at his post is my father, the proprietor here. We were making rock and ran out of supplies. He was meant to be watching the mixture while I went out to the store cupboard, but obviously he had to rest his eyes as he calls it. Probably be asleep for a while now.’ Although he stood shaking his head, Colenso could see he was clearly fond of his aged parent.

      ‘Glad to have been of help. I gather you run a confectioner’s here then,’ she added, remembering the jars on the counter in the front of the shop. He nodded.

      ‘Father and Mother ran it quite successfully until she was taken ill.’ His eyes clouded with painful memories.

      ‘I’m sorry. You’re clearly busy so I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, picking up her basket and heading for the door.

      ‘I was about to make some tea and toast,’ he said, shaking himself back to the present. ‘Would you care to join me, Miss Carne? It’s the least I can do under the circumstances.’ The mention of food set her stomach growling and she grinned ruefully.

      ‘Thank you, it’s quite a while since I last ate,’ she explained. His eyes lit up, gold flecks turning his eyes jade, but as he stood looking at her his smile turned to a frown.

      ‘Perhaps you would like to clean up while I prepare everything. You’ll find the, er, outhouse and pump in the yard.’ How rude, she thought, then following his gaze saw her skirt was stained and crumpled, her boots coated in mud and goodness knows what else. No wonder the woman at the bakery had thought her a vagrant.

      ‘Thank you, yes,’ she said quickly. Ashamed to be seen in such a state, she hurried outside.

      The yard was enclosed by a limewashed stone wall, a wooden structure which was clearly the privy at the bottom, while a pump stood on a slab of granite nearby. She set about making herself as respectable as possible before, feeling refreshed and ravenous, she went back indoors. The smell of toasting bread greeted her, setting her stomach rumbling again.

      ‘Do take a seat,’ he invited, setting down a plate piled high with slices of browned bread. There was no tablecloth but the little round table was now set with china and cutlery. As she sat down, he began pouring tea from a brown pot. ‘Forgive the basic ware, Miss Carne. Mother would have had her best china laid out, but regrettably she was laid out herself earlier in the year.’

      ‘Sorry for your loss,’ she murmured.

      ‘Mercifully she went quickly, and life has to go on. Although Father hasn’t really recovered from the shock. Anyway, here’s your tea,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to milk and sugar.’ Colenso stared at the steaming earthenware mug and thought she’d never seen anything so wonderful in all her life. She was so hungry, she finished her toast in minutes and eagerly accepted another slice. It was only when they’d eaten and had drained the pot dry that Garren turned to her.

      ‘Your accent tells me you’re Cornish but not from Penzance, so what brings you to these parts?’

      ‘It’s a long story,’ she sighed. ‘Suffice to say I find myself without a roof over my head and no job with which to buy food. I am indebted to your kindness, sir.’

      ‘Garren, please,’ he corrected. A loud snort emanated from the corner. ‘Father’s well away,’ he smiled, looking towards the old man. ‘He’s really too old to be helping in the shop. Since Mother died he’s lost all interest, losing himself in sleep. Still, at least I can keep an eye on him – when I’m not replenishing stocks, that is,’ he grinned. ‘Mind you, it’s taking me ten times longer to do even the most basic chores. I can’t be in here making the sweets and serving in the shop at the same time.’

      ‘So this is a workshop as well as a kitchen, then,’ she said, the strange tin tables and equipment now making sense. ‘And now you’ll have to make more syrup for the rock,’ she said, nodding towards the big pan in the sink. He stared at her in surprise.

      ‘You know about such things?’ he asked, his eyes widening.

      ‘I spent the summer working on the Panam at the fair. Jago, the journeyman, sometimes took me with him to collect supplies and I saw how rock and lollipops were made,’ she smiled, remembering her time with Karla.

      ‘And judging by your expression you clearly enjoyed it, but you spoke in the past tense, so what happened?’

      ‘The woman I lived with died then the fair disbanded for the winter,’ she sighed. He sat looking at her for a long moment.

      ‘Well, Miss Carne, I need an assistant who knows how to make sweets and you are in need of a job so perhaps we can help each other. I can’t pay much but there is a little box room next to the workshop, which you’d be welcome to use. Father and I live upstairs so you wouldn’t be disturbed.’

      ‘That would be the answer to my prayers, Mr, er, Garren,’ she cried, her spirits lifting only to fall when she remembered the derision of the manager at the Wherrytown Works. ‘But don’t you require a character?’

      ‘I think I’m a good judge of character, Miss Carne, and you look good to me,’ he grinned. ‘Why don’t we give it a trial of one month? If either of us isn’t happy during that time we can revise the situation.’ He held out his hand and, unable to believe her good fortune, she shook it firmly. There was another snort from the corner followed by gentle snoring, making them both laugh.

      ‘I think Father will be asleep for quite a while yet, so why don’t I show you around?’

      ‘Oh, yes please,’ she replied, a quiver of excitement tingling her spine.

      She followed him past a staircase and through a little arched door that led into the shop itself. The walls were lined with wooden shelves with drawers beneath them, their golden handles gleaming in the gloomy interior. On the counter was a set of brass scales, tiny weights in a tin alongside and the empty jars she’d seen earlier. On the shelf behind were trays of glistening sweets waiting to be decanted into them.

      ‘These will go in the windows when they’re filled, but luckily we haven’t been that busy of late,’ he explained, pointing from the jars to the bays with their tiny panes of glass. Luckily? What a strange thing to say, Colenso thought. Seeing her puzzled look, he grimaced.

      ‘I mean obviously I want more custom, but with Father the way he is … well, those that have the money to buy confectionery expect prompt service and …’ he shrugged. Colenso nodded and stared around the room, gathering an overall impression. Everywhere was clean but clinical, and the dim interior was hardly conducive to tempting people through the door. She could see how a woman’s touch could make it look more inviting, but guessed everything had changed when Mrs Goss had died.

      ‘How do you serve the sweets?’ she asked.

      ‘Why, in twists of these,’ Garren replied, holding up a pile of thin, plain paper. ‘Although Mother used to tie ribbon around if it were purchased as a gift. Now, I think I can hear Father moving about so let’s go back through and I’ll introduce you.’

      Colenso followed him back through to the kitchen.

      ‘Father, this is Miss Colenso Carne. She has kindly agreed to come and work for us. My father, Edwin Goss,’ Garren said.

      ‘Didn’t hear you arrive, where did you spring from?’ he frowned, staring at her from under his white bushy brows.

      ‘You