The Beggar Maid by Dilly Court Page B

Daniel, but Violet accused her of turning into a stuck-up snob, and Bert was even more vocal.
    Since the night she had asked for his help Bert Chapman had not allowed her to forget that she was in his debt. She had managed so far to avoid his clumsy advances, but at night she dared not venture outside to the privy in case he was lurking in the shadows. He had come into the shop on several occasions but, as luck would have it, there had been customers browsing the shelves and Charity had threatened to scream if he laid a finger on her. He had left with the promise that it was not over. He would catch her on her own sooner or later and then she would see what a real man was made of. It was something she hoped she would never discover, at least not from a brute like him.
    Jethro’s return in the middle of November thwarted Bert’s attempts to make free with Charity, and for that she was grateful, but Jethro Dawkins was a bad patient and even more demanding now that he was more or less confined to his bed. He could stagger a few paces with the aid of a crutch, but it was plain that he would never walk unaided, and the doctors had discharged him with the warning that his bones were brittle and would break easily. The only way he could escape from the pain and misery of losing even more of his independence was with laudanum in ever increasing doses. Charity was now his nurse as well as his housekeeper and she worked in the shop, but was no longer in charge. Every evening she had to give the ledger and the takings to Jethro, and he would sit in his chair by the range checking every last penny, and making lists of the replacements they needed. Eventually, and with great reluctance, he allowed Charity to visit the warehouse in his stead.
    On these occasions it was necessary to have someone in the shop and Charity immediately thought of Violet, who had learned to read and write and do simple arithmetic at a board school and would be pleased to have the opportunity to earn a few pennies. Violet said she would be happy to leave her younger brothers and sister in the charge of ten-year-old Emmie for a while, but Emmie was not the sharpest knife in the box and she might have to dash upstairs if anything went wrong. It was a solution that was reasonably satisfactory to everyone except for Jethro, who disliked change almost as much as he disliked Violet. ‘She’s a common little tart,’ he said bitterly when Charity put the idea forward. ‘I don’t want her fingering my books and making eyes at my customers.’
    â€˜But I have to go to the warehouse,’ Charity said reasonably. ‘You can’t manage the shop on your own, and it’s only for a few hours.’
    â€˜I want the door left open so that I can keep an eye on her. I won’t have my business turned into a place of assignation for that cheap trollop.’
    â€˜Violet is a good girl,’ Charity said, biting back a sharp retort. ‘She’s very willing and she knows exactly what she has to do. If she needs help she’ll come and ask you.’
    â€˜I don’t suppose she’s read a book in her life.’ Jethro reached for the glass of water laced with laudanum. ‘My heart is racing. I think I’m going to die.’
    Charity picked up the glass and placed it in his hand. ‘You’re just working yourself up, Mr Dawkins. Take a sip of this and it will calm you.’
    He gulped the mixture and closed his eyes. ‘If I find there’s a penny short in the day’s takings it’ll come out of your wages, miss.’
    Charity sighed and rescued the glass from his limp hand before it crashed to the floor and smashed. She left him to sleep off the excess of the drug and went outside to call for Violet. If luck was on their side she would return from the warehouse before Jethro became fully conscious and could make things difficult. It was raining and bitterly cold. The raw east wind had carried the