The Bonbon Girl. Linda Finlay

about the forthcoming outing on Sunday. It wasn’t fair, she fumed, heading towards Emily’s cottage.

      ‘Cripes, maid, yer early, and looking wild as a winter storm,’ the woman greeted her through a mouthful of pins. ‘Still, unless yer at death’s door, yer’ll have to wait till later to tell me what’s wrong. We’ve got a busy morning ahead. Mrs Jeans is coming for her dresses and yer know how particular she is. I offered to deliver them as usual, but it seems her son has business over at Ruan so he offered to convey her. Convey,’ she laughed. ‘They were her very words.’ Despite her mood, Colenso couldn’t help smiling at the woman. ‘Now, I’ve pinned up the hems so if yer can stitch them and add pearl buttons to the bodices, I’ll get on with the skirt for Miss Cardew.’

      Although Colenso’s hands automatically performed her tasks, her mind was running amok. The thought of another long week confined to the house, doing only light chores so as not to redden or scratch her hands, was more than she could bear. As for making an appealing top for that odious manager to gawk at her in, the very idea made her shudder.

      ‘Someone walk over yer grave?’ Emily asked.

      ‘Might well have done,’ she sighed.

      ‘Well, the smoothing irons are hot so yer can get them hems pressed, that should warm yer up.’ Colenso couldn’t help smiling at the woman’s humour as she picked up one of the heavy irons with the thick cloth and spat on it. When it hissed, she wiped the sole, spread out one of the dresses on the table and set about her task. By the time they heard the knock on the door, the garments were ready.

      ‘That’ll be Mrs Jeans,’ Emily said, getting stiffly to her feet. ‘Let’s hope she pays cash rather than insisting on having an invoice sent. Gives me extra work when I could be sewing, and goodness knows I can do with the money,’ she grumbled. ‘Yer go and make us a brew while I see to her. There’s a heel of bread and some cheese on the side to go with it.’ Colenso smiled gratefully, for in her hurry to see Kitto, she’d quite forgotten to break her fast.

      ‘Well, there’s a turn-up for the books,’ Emily smiled as Colenso returned with the loaded tray. ‘Mrs Jeans not only paid on the spot, she wants another dress made – a fancy one for entertaining, no less. She’s brought some lovely emerald satin material and wants it trimmed with black fringing. Naturally she needs it immediate, like, so there’s more work for yer this week.’ When Colenso didn’t respond, Emily frowned. ‘Thought yer’d be pleased.’

      ‘I would, only Father ordered me to stay indoors for the rest of the week. I’ve to sew another top, a more appealing one this time, and make different dishes to increase my cooking skills. He says they’re too limited,’ she sighed.

      ‘Get away with yer. Young Kitto’s that besotted he’d think yer was appealing if yer wore yer bedcover,’ Emily grinned. ‘And I can’t imagine him complaining about your cooking either.’

      ‘It’s Father. He wants to impress the new works manager.’

      ‘Oh?’ Emily narrowed her bird-like eyes. ‘Would this be anything to do with them accusations of theft he made?’ Colenso nodded.

      ‘He told Father I could make it up to him by going for afternoon tea at his house. It was ghastly. Mamm simpering, Father kowtowing, Fenton gawking. And that’s not the end of it. He’s asked for me to show him the local sights on Sunday. When I started to refuse, Father told him I would. He says it’s a good opportunity.’

      ‘I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’ll not lie. Always one to feather his nest at another’s expense, if yer’ll excuse me being candid, maid.’

      ‘But Mamm backed him up.’

      ‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she? I mean she might be the sick nurse and a capable one at that, but she’ll not stand up to yer father. Course, she were different before she married him.’

      ‘What was she like then?’ Colenso asked. Emily took a sip of her tea, a faraway look in her eye.

      ‘Happy, spirited, do anything for a lark,’ she said eventually. Then she grinned. ‘One day she took your mammwynn’s bloomers off the washing line and sewed up the ankles. Keren never realized till it were too late. Hopping she were, literally,’ Emily chuckled.

      ‘I can’t imagine Mamm being mischievous, or laughing,’ Colenso replied, her eyes widening in surprise.

      ‘Well, that’s the thing, see. The right man will make a woman blossom and grow, but the wrong one’ll crush the life out of yer.’ Colenso stared at her in surprise. How could someone who’d never married know about such things? ‘Seen it happen too often,’ Emily added as if guessing her thoughts. ‘So, make sure yer choose the right man.’

      ‘Oh, I will,’ Colenso assured her, an image of her darkhaired, treacle-eyed Kitto rising before her.

      ‘And if it’s who I think it is, make sure yer tell him about that outing. Honesty’s everything and it wouldn’t do for him to find out from someone else.’

      ‘I intend telling Kitto when I see him later. Though I can’t see him being pleased about it. Still, if I accompany Fenton this one time, I’ll surely have paid my debt for this perceived theft.’

      ‘Hmm, I wouldn’t be too sure,’ Emily frowned. ‘Now about that appealing top yer father expects yer to make,’ she added, stressing the word appealing. ‘Does yer have the material to make such a thing?’ she asked before taking a sip of her tea.

      ‘No,’ Colenso admitted, not wishing to admit what her father had suggested.

      ‘And did he suggest where yer might get some, by any chance?’ As the woman stared at her closely over the top of her mug, Colenso felt a flush creeping over her cheeks.

      ‘Thought as much.’

      ‘But I wouldn’t …’ she cried.

      ‘Don’t worry, maid. I never thought for one moment yer would.’

      ‘Besides, I don’t want to wear something that reveals my …’ she gestured to her chest. ‘The way Fenton gawks at it gives me the creeps.’ She leaned forward to pick up her mug and the necklace stabbed her. ‘Ouch,’ she cried.

      ‘What’s up?’ Emily asked, concern wrinkling her brow.

      ‘It’s this necklace Mammwynn gave me, it keeps digging into me.’

      ‘If that’s yer grandmother’s pentacle yer wearing she reckoned it always prodded her when evil threatened. Said it never lied.’

      ‘That’s it,’ Colenso cried. ‘She said to heed what it told me cos it never lied. So, it’s got nothing to do with my size?’

      ‘Yer a Cornish maid through and through, and proud of it you should be too. Yer Kitto thinks yer beautiful and so you are. He’s a good man.’ Then she became serious. ‘However, there are men who are not so honourable, and this Fenton sounds one of them. Mind yer heed that warning.’

      ‘But what am I to do? Father will kill me if I don’t do as he says.’

      ‘I’m guessing yer mamm’s no help?’ Colenso shook her head and Emily sighed.

      ‘A true friend to me yer grandmother was. Used to pass many an hour listening to her talking about her beloved herbs and plants. Real knowledgeable, she were, and her nettle unguent were the only thing that eased my old joints,’ she said her hand going to her hip.

      ‘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