The Sweethearts Collection. Pam Jenoff
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you something better than a brass curtain ring.’
‘Oh,’ she said, jumping up. ‘I’ve just remembered I promised Garren I’d help him make a start on the Christmas confections.’ As she reached for the umbrella, he put out a hand to detain her.
‘Before you go, Cali, tell me; is there anything between this Garren and you?’
‘What?’ she laughed. ‘Good heavens, no. He’s a lovely man but he’s not …’ She’d been about to say he’s not you, but pride prevented her.
‘So it’s not too late for us, then? You’ll come with me and choose a new ring?’ Seeing the love shining from his eyes, she thought her heart would burst out of its cage. Then she remembered that while she’d been fretting, he’d been working nearby for these past few weeks and the cage door clanked shut again.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ she murmured.
‘Give us a chance eh, Cali?’ he pleaded. ‘Perhaps we could start by walking out again. May I call on you at the shop on Sunday, take you for afternoon tea perhaps?’ As she stood there looking at his earnest expression, the necklace gently prodded her hand. The last vestiges of anger dissipated.
‘Very well,’ she replied. ‘But I’ll meet you here. If the weather’s better perhaps we could walk along the seafront.’
Seeing the little shop in darkness, Colenso let herself in through the workshop.
‘The wanderer returns,’ Garren said without looking up from the wooden moulds he was working on. ‘Have a good time, did you?’ Although he sounded casual, Colenso had the feeling her answer was important to him.
‘I did and thank you for the loan of the umbrella,’ she replied, leaving it to dry beside the door. ‘As you might have guessed, that was Kitto who called in earlier.’
‘Ah, your follower,’ he said, keeping his eyes averted.
‘Yes. Things were a bit awkward at first but I said I’d walk out with him on Sunday afternoon. If that’s all right with you?’ she asked quickly.
‘You’re entitled to time off,’ he replied. There was a pause, followed by a thump on the table that made her jump.
‘Oh, you’ve started on the mice,’ she cried, seeing the little shapes staring up at her.
‘Yes, I’ve made them in white fondant but they’ll need their eyes coloured and strings added for their tails. Perhaps you’d like to do that while I begin on the jelly mixture for the pigs. Unless you’re too tired?’ he said, looking up and studying her.
‘No, of course not,’ she frowned. Why would she be tired this early? Hadn’t she spent the previous evenings working with him? But he’d turned away and was already scooping a heap of sugar into the copper pan. ‘Goodness, you have been busy,’ she said, staring at the depleted cone.
‘Filing sugar’s therapeutic,’ he muttered. ‘Now, please can you get on with those mice before the fondant sets?’
Obediently, she began cutting the string into suitable lengths and pressing them into the fondant. Then she took up the food colouring and began painting their eyes. The effect was quite realistic and she giggled at the rows of pink-eyed mice with their curly tails.
‘Right, if you’ve finished that, perhaps you’d like to pour those almonds into the shallow wide pan ready to go on the heat when I’ve finished here. While they’re heating you need to melt the sugar and gum arabic to coat them.’
‘Oh, can’t I help you make the jelly pigs?’ she asked, dying to see how the starch trays worked. But he shook his head.
‘Not tonight. I want enough confections to fill the window tomorrow.’ Although he said it pleasantly enough, she couldn’t help feeling he was keeping his distance. Still, she did as he asked and, once the gum arabic mixture had cooled sufficiently, poured it over the nuts and began working it through with her hands. Who’d have thought sugar plums were actually coated nuts?
‘The coating is very thin,’ she said, frowning.
‘That’s why you have to let the nuts cool and then keep repeating the process until you’ve built up a good covering,’ he replied.
‘Oh,’ she said, looking up and seeing him pouring the jelly into the moulds. Although she was enjoying what she was doing, it wasn’t the same as working on the confections together.
By the end of the evening, they had sufficient fondant mice, jelly pigs and sugar plums for a credible window display.
‘Luckily these confections will last, so we shouldn’t have any wastage,’ Garren smiled. ‘Right, that’s enough for tonight. You go off to bed and I’ll cover them over. Goodnight and thank you for your help.’
‘Oh, goodnight,’ she replied, staring at him in surprise. Usually they finished the night with a pot of tea but clearly that wasn’t forthcoming tonight.
Although tired, she couldn’t sleep. Her head was spinning with the events of the day. And what a day it had been, she thought. First, the letter from Kitto, then him turning up like that. She smiled into the darkness, then frowned. Did he still love her? Could things ever be the same between them? ‘He’s here, Mammwynn,’ she whispered, her hand going to the pentacle at her neck. A feeling of hope and reassurance flooded through her as she felt the answering jab. However, although he’d explained his reasons for securing a job before coming to find her, she couldn’t help feeling aggrieved he’d taken so long. Why, if the situation had been reversed nothing would have prevented her from hurrying to his side. Still, she’d be seeing him again on Sunday. While Colenso didn’t give a fig for the Ferret or her father, she was pleased her mamm was making a new life for herself and hoped she was happy.
She’d enjoyed her sweet-making session with Garren tonight. Although she hadn’t had a lesson as such, he had a lovely way of explaining things and she knew she’d remember everything she’d done. He’d seemed a bit distant, though. Perhaps he was tired – he did work long hours. Tomorrow, she’d make sure she helped him in the workshop as soon as she’d finished serving in the shop. She began thinking how she would display their seasonal confections, yet it was Kitto who filled her dreams.
✳
‘I think that looks wonderful,’ Colenso said, standing back and admiring the window display. Garren had been up early, making jewelled lollies and cheap jelly sweets to add to the mice, pigs and sugar plums they’d made the night before.
‘Well, the proof will be in the pudding – or in this case, the sugar plums,’ he grinned. Then as if remembering something, he frowned and hurried back to the workshop, leaving Colenso gazing after him.
She turned back to see a group of children, noses pressed against the window panes, gazing excitedly at the Christmas confections and tugging at their mother’s sleeve. To her surprise though, apart from the odd mouse or a few sugar plums, it was the normal sweets that sold.
‘I can’t understand it,’ she told Garren, going through to the workshop, where the delectable aroma of fruit and nuts made her stomach rumble.
‘You haven’t sold all the seasonal fare already?’ he asked, looking up from the pan he was stirring.
‘No. Everyone exclaimed how wonderful it all looked but hardly anyone bought anything. The children have had their noses pressed against the window all morning yet they didn’t come inside.’
‘Well, they wouldn’t,’ Garren said. ‘Christmas is too far away for their parents to be thinking about buying confections. The window display is to create attention, remember. Don’t worry, those children will now be pestering for Father Christmas to bring them sugar mice, jellied pigs or whatever they desire. The week before the big day we’ll be rushed off our feet, you’ll see.’