The Sweethearts Collection. Pam Jenoff

she told him.

      ‘Still the proud woman, I see,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘What do you want it for, if I might ask?’

      ‘To make a present and if I may also use a drop of red colouring, I’d be grateful.’ This time Garren threw back his head and laughed.

      ‘You hear that, Father? Colenso, who’s been serving in the shop by day and helping us in here each evening, would be grateful for a drop of red colouring.’

      ‘Don’t mock, Garren,’ the old man remonstrated. ‘It’s nice to see a young girl with manners.’

      ‘It is. Sorry, Father,’ he replied, looking so chastened that Colenso had to stifle a giggle. ‘We are truly obliged for all your help, Colenso. I was going to give you something for Boxing Day but you can have the fondant and colouring with our compliments instead,’ he quipped, a gleam of mischief sparking in his hazel eyes. It was then she realized he’d been quiet of late and that she’d missed his teasing.

      ‘Why, thank you, kind sir,’ she replied.

      ‘You’d better cover that fondant to work on later because while Father shapes the mice, we need to make more rock,’ he said, nodding towards the piece she’d set aside.

      ‘You know I told you we shaped the rock into canes at the Panam?’ she said, duly wrapping her fondant in a cloth.

      ‘I remember, and I explained why we kept them straight here,’ Garren nodded, looking up from the sugar syrup he was now stirring.

      ‘Well, why don’t we colour this batch green and red then shape them into canes or crooks, just for Christmas Eve,’ she added quickly when he frowned.

      ‘That’s a good idea, girl,’ Mr Goss nodded. ‘We could capitalize on the nativity and sell them as shepherd’s crooks. Shame we didn’t think to do it earlier,’ he said, darting his son a look.

      They spent the rest of the evening kneading, pulling, colouring and shaping, and by the time they collapsed with their cups of tea, the cooling trays were lined with red and green canes and white sugar mice.

      ‘Brilliant,’ Garren pronounced, finishing his tea. ‘Now I’ll just fill the jars with the jellied sweets, ready for the orphanage and workhouse. Being Christmas Eve tomorrow, the children will be excited and we mustn’t let them down.’

      ‘I’ll take them, Garren. I know you’ll be busy with the centrepiece for the window,’ Mr Goss said.

      ‘Oh, what’s that?’ Colenso asked, looking up from the fondant she was carefully shaping into a heart. The red colouring made it glisten and all she needed to do was carve out their initials. She was sure this would show Kitto how she felt, better than words ever could.

      ‘Ah ha, you’ll have to wait and see,’ Garren teased. ‘All I’ll say is, prepare to be surprised.’

      ✳

      Colenso woke early the next morning and, knowing they’d be extra busy, she quickly dressed and pulled on her big white apron. She could hear Garren moving around in the workshop and so, honouring her promise not to go in there until he said she could, she let herself into the shop. It was her favourite time of day and, humming a carol softly, she set about getting the shop ready for opening. The tantalizing smell of peppermint, fruits and nuts filled the air and she bustled around making sure the displays looked enticing. Garren had told her to leave the middle window empty and, although he didn’t say why, she knew it must be for his centrepiece.

      Seeing one of the jars half-empty, she refilled it with the jewel-like boiled sweets. A rare ray of sunlight shone on one of the red ones, making it glow. Reminded of the garnet Kitto had offered her, she snatched it up and held it against her finger, smiling as she imagined wearing his ring. Would it be today he returned, she wondered, excitement fizzing up inside?

      ‘Ta-da.’ She jumped as Garren came through bearing a platter high in the air. Hastily she returned the sweet to the jar.

      ‘The pièce de résistance,’ Mr Goss grinned, following his son into the shop.

      ‘Oh my,’ Colenso gasped, staring in astonishment as Garren carefully placed what looked like a boar’s head in the centre window. Glazed with chocolate, glacé fruit for eyes, and holly in its pricked-up ears, it was truly magnificent. She watched as Mr Goss carefully arranged truffles around the base while Garren stuck spears studded with marzipanned fruits into the sides.

      ‘It is a replica of what our dear Queen will be having, only hers will be a real one, of course,’ he explained, standing back to study the effect. Mr Goss meanwhile was out on the pavement, giving the thumbs-up. ‘That should draw in the customers,’ he grinned.

      Immediately a crowd gathered, pointing excitedly at the centrepiece and all the other confections. Then the little bell tinkled, and amid much exclaiming the day got off to a good start.

      ‘We’ve not even had time for a cup of tea,’ Garren moaned, but she could see he was pleased. The boar’s head certainly proved a draw and they were so busy it took all three of them to keep up with the incessant flow of customers.

      ‘Good idea, that,’ Mr Goss said later as he put the last of the candy crooks into a bag. ‘There you go, my lovely,’ he said, handing it to a little girl whose eyes were shining with delight. ‘Don’t forget to think of the shepherds who visited baby Jesus, will you?’ He turned to Garren. ‘Which reminds me, I must get those jellied sweets over to the workhouse and orphanage or there’ll be some very disappointed children. I’ll pick up some bread and ham on my way back and expect a cuppa ready when I return.’

      ‘Goodness, it’s almost noon,’ Garren exclaimed, looking at the clock above the door. ‘No wonder I’m parched. You must be starving, Colenso, we didn’t even get to break our fast this morning.’ She was about to offer to put the kettle on to heat when the door opened and another group of excited children descended, their harassed parents following behind. They stood looking at all the sweets, trying to decide what to choose while the adults tried to hurry them along. Once they’d finally departed, bags clutched eagerly in their hands, Garren hurried to lock the door, declaring it was definitely time for a break. Snatching up the cash tin, he led the way through to the workshop where he began counting up the money while Colenso went outside to the pump.

      The kettle was boiling, the mugs and plates set ready on the table when Mr Goss finally returned.

      ‘At last, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,’ Garren sighed then he took a closer look at his father and frowned. ‘Whatever is the matter? You haven’t overdone it, have you?’ he asked, his voice rising as his father slumped into a chair. The old man shook his head.

      ‘I think you’d better sit down, Colenso,’ he said, pulling out her chair. ‘After I delivered the sweets for the children, I felt in need of a breath of air and went for a stroll. There were a group of men from the Wherrytown works gathered on the harbour. It would appear their barge got caught up in a storm and, I’m sorry, dear,’ he said, taking hold of Colenso’s hand. ‘It’s believed it went down, with all lives lost.’

      ‘What? But that can’t be right,’ she gasped, shaking her head. ‘I haven’t given Kitto his present yet.’

Chapter 32

      The grey, swirling fog that had engulfed Colenso stayed and wouldn’t lift. It was as if she was on the outside of life looking in as she routinely went about her work. She couldn’t believe Kitto was dead, didn’t feel he was, and yet everyone assured her that he couldn’t have survived the terrible storm that sank the barge. The pentacle stabbed relentlessly at her neck, until finally, with hot tears coursing down her cheeks, she wrenched it off and put it away in her basket.

      Christmas had passed in a blur and, unable to sleep, she’d taken to walking down to the harbour early each morning in the hope of hearing something, anything. She’d expected a group of men to be waiting and looking,