Chapter 5 #3
Again, Gwen struggled to conceal her astonishment.
She spent a good part of each day trying to work out how best to ensure his happiness.
Of course, he must be struggling with the lack of light and his fading eyesight, but it was hard at times to know whether to remain silent or to try to cheer him up with conversation, or an offer to read to him.
Her eyes fell on the baking tins ready to be filled with mince pies and the bowl of pastry that had been chilling all afternoon.
The kitchen smelt of curried mutton, which she had prepared before leaving and which would be ready to serve within an hour.
She’d hardly been neglecting her wifely duties, and that was without considering the extra hours she spent completing the tasks that Archibald’s poor vision prevented him from doing.
She bustled around the kitchen and did her best to ignore him as he sat at the table with a mug of tea. Her mind was filled with preparations to be completed before Christmas and the prospect of funding his operation, which would surely improve his temper.
When Archibald had stamped upstairs, Gwen spread the coins on the table.
The sight of the first money she had ever earned in her own right made her break into a smile, even though the handful of pennies hardly constituted a fortune.
Her spirits flagged a little as she looked at the meagre collection.
She would need to do better. Savings needed to be made somehow.
She could work harder to produce the pills and ointments quicker.
Her boots could be patched with cardboard for another month.
She could go without a chop next Thursday and just buy one for Archibald.
A little voice in the back of her head whispered that in a month or two she might not need to go without boots or chops if she agreed to Miss Rosewood’s suggestion. Why, she might even afford a new hat like the pretty one Mrs McAllister had sported!
She sat staring into the pot of potatoes as it boiled, wondering when she would next hear from Archie.
The dreadful winter weather must be delaying his letters and spring could not come quickly enough for her liking.
The nights would get lighter, the weather better and they would find the money they needed.
Then her husband might be happy, and life would become pleasant once again.
She put the money in a little box decorated with shells that she had bought on a rare trip with her husband and son to Brighton when Archie had been an infant.
The next morning, Gwen walked to Miss Rosewood’s house and was admitted to the same room.
‘I will do it,’ she said.
Miss Rosewood beamed. ‘Of course you will. I never doubted it.’
Gwen’s neck prickled. Was she so predictable?
‘What changed your mind?’ Miss Rosewood asked.
‘I find it quite dispiriting how hard it is to earn anything. For all the hours that Archibald – and I – work, there is very little profit to be made.’ She coughed in embarrassment as it struck her this could be taken as criticising Mr Rosewood, though Miss Rosewood didn’t seem to notice or care.
‘I won’t take any more ingredients from the pharmacy supplies,’ she cautioned. ‘When next my husband places an order, I will alter it and we will buy ourselves a bottle of opium. I am essentially an honest woman and stealing does not sit well with me.’
‘Nor with me.’ Miss Rosewood smiled, though Gwen wasn’t sure she actually had any qualms about the theft.
‘If this works and our customers are happy, perhaps we could consider charging more than we charged yesterday. It’s all very well charging a tanner a time, but we are never going to make much money this way. ’
‘That’s assuming they will want to repeat it,’ Gwen cautioned. ‘If they don’t, then we know there is nothing to be gained from trying to sell it at all.’
‘They will. Mrs Dowson has sent a note expressing her delight at the results and professing how well she slept last night.’ Miss Rosewood grasped Gwen’s hands. ‘We must be positive, and we should not devalue ourselves.’
Gwen did some rapid calculations. ‘If we charge two and six for a measure, then that will amply cover the purchase of the opium and cocaine.’
‘We want to do more than cover the cost!’ Miss Rosewood exclaimed. ‘Perhaps if we serve it mixed with some cordial or a little ginger wine to make it more appealing, they will regard it as a more valuable product and pay even more. Uncle Conrad always says the packaging is half the attraction.’
Gwen nodded thoughtfully. ‘The soaps and face creams that are wrapped in tissue paper and pretty boxes certainly sell better to a particular class of customer than the plain, unadorned ones. The price is considerably higher, though the ingredients are almost identical.’
Miss Rosewood laughed in delight. ‘There! That proves it. We shall make our product attractive so that every woman in London is clamouring for a taste. We could be famous!’
Gwen held her hands up in dismay. ‘I don’t want to be famous! Archibald would hate that! I just want enough money to pay for the operation.’
Miss Rosewood said nothing. She simply passed Gwen a cup of tea with an expression that suggested she had her own opinions about that. Gwen tried not to worry. She was the one who knew the ingredients, and she could stop at any time she chose.