Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📗

‘I doubt you can,’ snapped the man, irritably tapping his cane on the floor. ‘Most inconvenient. I have travelled some way to make a purchase.’

‘I am sure I can advise you,’ Ettie insisted.

‘A chit of a girl – advising me!’ The man exclaimed angrily. ‘I take that as an insult!’ He marched to the door and yanked it open. ‘Tell your employer he has lost a customer,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘And will never see me again.’

Before Ettie could reply, the door slammed loudly.

Tears of humiliation squeezed in her eyes. She remembered the day in Victoria Park when she had realized how it felt to be poor. It was a lesson she would never forget. The gentleman today had reminded her of her lowly station.

Ettie tried not to think of the failure. She set about cleaning the shelves and unpacking the crates from Tobacco Dock. Diligently, she examined each box and package as Lucas had shown her. The strong aromas of fresh tobacco filled the salon. After rearranging the pipes, cigars and cigarettes, she turned her attention to the glass cabinets. Just as she was brushing the blue velvet cloths, the door opened. A young gentleman entered.

’Top of the morning,’ he said from under his small black moustache. Removing his tall hat, he placed it on the cabinet. His sleek black hair, loud necktie and cheap-looking coat gave him a sharp look. He twitched an eyebrow. ‘My, my. Who have we here?’

Ettie shyly lowered her eyes. ‘Good morning, Sir.’

He removed his gloves. She noted the slight brown stain on his forefinger and middle finger. This was a sign, so Lucas had indicated, of a dedicated cigarette smoker.

‘I would like to speak to the proprietor of this establishment,’ he said with a roguish grin.

Ettie replied as she had replied before. ‘Mr and Mrs Benjamin are holidaying in Europe.’

‘And left you on your own?’

Ettie nodded. ‘How may I help, Sir?’ If fifty or even a hundred gentlemen scorned her, she would still politely offer to serve them.

‘Lucky devils,’ said the man, surprising her. ‘What I would give to sally off like that. Leave London Town behind me and venture abroad.’ He gave a cheeky grin. ‘But some of us must work diligently, I suppose. Like you, my dear. Left to hold the fort, were you?’

Ettie was not certain of this man. He was not the salon’s usual type of customer.

‘What is your choice of tobacco?’ Ettie asked politely.

‘I prefer something smooth, as soft as a woman’s skin.’ He gave her a flirtatious wink.

Ettie drew herself upright. ‘What brand, Sir?’

‘Come close and whisper a recommendation.’ He tried to reach for her hand but she snapped it away.

‘A cool little madam, I see,’ he sneered.

Ettie felt humiliated. While Lucas had been present his customers had all been mannerly. But now she was unchaperoned, she knew she had to be careful. The cheap cigarette tobacco that clung to his coat wafted into her face.

’Is it cigarettes you prefer?’ she asked, reaching out to the shelf where the inexpensive makes were discreetly stored.

‘Cigarettes?’ he questioned.

‘Perhaps Sweet Threes?’

‘Sharp little miss, ain’t you?’ He narrowed his eyes, clearly disturbed. ‘How do you know I’m after fags?’

Ettie shrank away as he leaned across the counter. ’Every tobacco has a unique bouquet, Sir.’

‘Bloody cheek!’ He roared, his face flushed. ‘You mean I … smell?’

Ettie cowered as he almost leapt over the cabinet. She was certain he would have grabbed her had not another customer arrived.

‘Don’t bother trading here, chum!’ bawled the young man to the new arrival. ‘She’ll tell you that you stink!’ He swiped up his gloves and hat, glared at Ettie, then stormed out.

Tears of defeat glistened in Ettie’s eyes. Would she ever be able to say the right thing? It seemed so easy when Lucas had been there and now it felt impossible. How could she ever have thought she would be able to manage the salon? It was all she could do to breathe. What a fool she had been!

‘What are those tears for, Gwen’s little beauty?’ enquired the new customer.

Ettie looked up. ‘Oh, Terence, it’s you!’ She had last seen the butcher a week ago when she had purchased a special leg of pork for Lucas and Clara’s last dinner.

‘It’s me all right. Thought I’d pay you a visit as you’d be on your own, unable to get out for shopping.’

Ettie tried to smile.

‘Did that dandy upset you?’

‘I could smell Sweet Threes on his person and mistakenly told him so.’

With an enormous guffaw, the butcher fiercely patted his stomach. ‘Bravo, bravo! You’ve done yourself a favour. That cheeky pup was on the make, my dear.’

‘On the make, Terence?’

‘Could tell in an instant. Nasty piece of work. Did he ask for your boss? If you were alone?’

Ettie nodded.

Terence rubbed his whiskers. ’Probably been watchin’ the premises. While your back was turned he’d be filching, pocketing, that sort of thing. Fingers as nimble as magpies’ beaks. Eyes as sharp as needles. Don’t truck with the rascals. Send ‘em off with a flea in their ear.’

Was Terence trying to make her feel better, she wondered?

‘Look what I brought you.’ From his cloth bag he produced a slightly blood-stained muslin. ‘Trotters m’dear, fresh today. Boil ‘em up with an onion. Do you the world of good.’

Ettie stared at the two, sweating fat pink pigs’ feet oozing grease as they lay on the counter. Hiding the queasy roll of her stomach she smiled.

‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Not a halfpenny, m’dear. A little titbit from old Terence for all the custom you’ve brought my way. Now, I’ll be off. Any problems, you know where to find me.’

But as each day passed, the customers refused to use the smoking room. Instead, they conducted a swift purchase and went on their way without having spent much money. She knew they were not comfortable in her presence. How could she hope to gain their trust?

One November evening, she was sitting alone at the dining table after a quiet day in the salon.