March 1914At ten minutes to seven, and using her key to open the door, Lexi entered the sweet shop, the familiar, mouth-watering smell making her smile. To fourteen-year-old Lexi, it was like coming home, because during the summer holidays last year she’d been entrusted to run the place during the lunch hour each day so that the owner, Miss Jean Lewis, could have a rest. And the responsibility had been just up Lexi’s street – though she’d had to beg her mother to let her take the little job. Cecilia Martin was very protective of her three children and had tried to dissuade her elder daughter from entering the world of work too soon.
But Lexi had been determined, and had worked for the whole five weeks for a couple of hours each day, learning quickly along the way. Miss Lewis was a generous employer, and soon Lexi’s little cardboard box which held her pocket money had begun to feel quite heavy.
But now Lexi had left school for the last time – despite her mother’s pleas that she should stay on longer. But why, Lexi had argued, why didn’t her mother want her to grow up? Cecilia still had Phoebe, six, and Joe, three, to coddle and fuss over.
Then, as if it was meant to be, Miss Lewis had advertised for part-time help once again – which is why Lexi was back where she felt she truly belonged - behind the counter of the town’s prosperous little sweet shop. And her hours, from 7 to 10 in the morning and again from noon to 2 in the afternoon - plus the occasional extra hour in the evening to help with stock-taking - fitted in perfectly with all the domestic chores which Lexi did each day for her mother. Washing and ironing, sweeping and cleaning, and looking after the younger ones while Cecilia worked three nights a week at the laundry as well as toiling away each day at their scrubbed wooden table with her Singer sewing machine, mending, altering, patching, the turning of bed sheets sides to middle for all the hotels and guesthouses. Cecilia’s meticulous handiwork was how she kept her family fed and the rent paid. Her husband, Albert, a travelling salesman, was away far more than he was at home, his irregular contributions to the family purse leaving Cecilia the main bread winner - a role she accepted without complaint and with certain pride. Unlike many of the poor in the area who would let their children run around all hours of the day and night in hand-me-down shoes, or no shoes at all, Cecilia protected her children with the determination of a tigress, and all in all, she considered herself luckier than most. She was a decent citizen of Bath, never in debt, and bringing up well-mannered children, while many others barely existed, relying on parish relief to just about stay alive. Yet despite that, a lot of the women smoked, their men often coming home drunk
Now, Lexi took off her coat and scarf and tied her neat green shop apron around her waist. Then she glanced around her, noting that as usual, Miss Lewis had left everything in place for the day’s trading.
It was quite a dark little shop, but brought to sparkling life by the rows and rows of fat glass jars all up there on the shelves … full of boiled sweets, toffees, bulls’ eyes, aniseed balls, hundreds and thousands, chocolate drops, and sticks of liquorice to dip into sherbet. The cigarettes and tobacco were always kept high up on a shelf.
Turning, Lexi unlocked the small safe under the counter and took out the bags containing all the coins, emptying the money into each little compartment ready to receive the day’s takings. Any pound or ten shilling notes were tucked in safely at the back.
Handling money had never been a problem for Lexi and she didn’t need to count on her fingers to work out the right change. And weighing up 1 oz or 2 oz or a quarter pound of things, was part of the fun of the job. Instinctively, Lexi moved the heavy weights of the scales to form a neat pile on the counter, then took a cloth to give the shallow brass pans a quick wipe-over. The little dustpan and brush kept for clearing up any spillage of sugar or sherbet was there on the side. Miss Lewis liked everything kept nice and tidy which was something else that came easily to Lexi. She did plenty of that at home
Any early customers were the children spending their farthing or half penny pocket money on their way to the nearby school – the school which Lexi had only recently left and which Phoebe now went to and Joe would, too, next year – but not many children had money for sweets. It was largely men coming in for their cigarettes or tobacco.
But this little shop held far greater significance for Lexi than finding her first real job, because it was here that she’d made her very first purchase with her own money – money earned singing carols outside public houses a couple of Christmases ago. Somehow, she’d found the courage to do this entirely by herself and hadn’t told a soul, not even Johnny who was her best friend. She and Johnny didn’t usually have secrets from each other, but Lexi had wanted to do this alone, had thought it important to stand on her own two feet. The pubs and beer houses had been full of men on that cold morning, all spilling out on to the pavements as they’d toasted the festive season, and nearly all of them had put something, a copper or two, into the enamel mug which Lexi had held out hopefully.
Lexi loved music, loved to sing, knew every carol by heart as well as all the popular songs which her Dada had taught her as he accompanied her on his harmonica or banjo when he was home. And she’d always been the one chosen to sing solo at school, her clear treble voice reaching the top notes like a bell.
But the sole purpose for her carol singing that day had been so that she could buy her mother a beautiful present.
Lexi had seen the little beaded purse here, in the sweet shop window for several weeks and had made up her mind that, somehow, she would find the money to pay for it. As well as the confectionery always on display, Miss Lewis did sometimes buy small gifts to put in the window, especially at Christmas time - jewelled trinket boxes, pretty handkerchief sachets, ladies’ dainty ivory fans – but it was the beaded purse which had caught Lexi’s eye. And as the money had clinked into her mug while she’d gone on singing, it had made her realize that if she was determined, and worked hard, she could get whatever she wanted. And the moment there’d been enough money to buy the present, and even some left over to buy sweets for her sister and brother, had been the moment when Lexi had made her big decision.
One day, she was going to be rich – perhaps even as rich as Mr McCann.
Mr McCann was Johnny’s dad, and he not only owned property all over Bath – including their ancient cottage in the run-down rank of dwellings on the edge of town – he was also a money lender, charging high interest. Most people were afraid of him, calling him “Foxy McCann” behind his back. But Cecilia said that was very disrespectful and that he must have worked extremely hard for his money. He was certainly never called Foxy in their house.
Lexi knew that she loved Johnny almost as much as she loved her brother and sister. Johnny used to go the same school as Lexi, and on her very first week, after she’d fallen down in the playground, there’d suddenly been this boy helping her up and dabbing her grazed knee with his clean white handkerchief. And as she’d gazed up into those kind dark eyes her tears had stopped almost at once. And that had been the start of a friendship which had grown stronger with every year that passed.
Now at almost sixteen years old, Johnny was nearly as tall as his brother Alfred who was two years older. But Alfred was not nearly as nice as Johnny. In fact, Alfred could be quite horrible at times. Johnny was never horrible and had the sort of face you wanted to keep looking at, a smiley, kind face, surrounded by soft black curls. All the girls loved Johnny but he was Lexi’s best friend so no one else got a look in. Lexi hated the thought that he would soon be going away to college, like Alfred, because that would mean they’d only see each other during the holidays.
Johnny and Alfred lived with their dad in the big house at the far end of the street called Grey Gables. Everyone knew that their mama had died