‘I’ll need a few days to customise myself to Henry’s method of working.’
‘Of course.’
‘Without interruptions. I may need to bring some documents to Roseland so I can continue to study them later in the day.’
‘I will provide you with a key to the office.’ His hand fell away from the small of her back. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was—’
‘No matter,’ she replied, crisply. Grace let her hand trail across the untidy desk for want of something to do. It would give them both a moment for the heat in their cheeks to fade.
Talek cleared his throat. ‘You can have free access to our trap for transport and come and go as you please.’
She glanced at him, smiled in gratitude and turned her attention back to the desk in the room. They both studied the desk in embarrassed silence.
‘I am sorry I cannot help you with this. I do not have a head for figures. My skills lie elsewhere.’
Grace suspected they did and wondered if he was experiencing the same tingling sensation as she was in the small of her back. She noticed him flex his hand and hoped that he did, before feigning a deep interest in an invoice on the desk.
* * *
Henry’s handwriting was untidy, but his record keeping appeared methodical, if only she could understand it. She rose early and worked until late, often bringing the wage ledgers home so she could continue to work after their evening meal. The end of the month was quickly approaching and she was eager to prove her worth to Talek and to herself. After several days study, Grace was finally able to calculate the hours, numberof shifts and relate them to the jobs, age and gender of the workers. Finally she was in the position to start preparing the wages.
She started with the miners of Stenna Pit, as they were fewer in number and the workforce consisted mainly of men. Bothick Mine was more complicated, but she gradually worked her way through the long list of workers. Alfred Petherbridge’s wage was the last one she calculated. She stared at his name as her stomach churned. His presence was a constant threat, as he could spread his poisonous news here too and ruin the reputation she was slowly beginning to build. She would have to make sure that he didn’t see her when the wages were handed out.
The day arrived and Grace accompanied Talek to the utility building at Bothick Mine, where his office was situated on the second floor. They were to be on the ground floor. A small, serviceable table waited for them at one end of a large draughty room. Talek offered her the chair next to him. She sat down and he did the same, his thigh brushing against hers as he did so. A frisson of nervous energy surged through her as they both moved their chairs further apart. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the task ahead or that the table was far too small, but she was unable to relax. She busied herself organising the wage ledger, pen and ink. Talek did the same with the small parcels of money she had prepared for each wage. The task done, they sat in awkward silence.
‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied, surprised she no longer felt the draught sweeping into the room through the open door. She felt his elbow accidently brush hers and knew the reason why.
Finally the miners began to appear, forming an orderly queue. It gave her something else to focus on other than Talek’s close proximity. She searched the faces for Alfred’s, but he wasnowhere in sight. The first name was called. The task of handing out the wages had finally begun.
After the first few wages were distributed a well-oiled system developed between Talek and Grace. To her surprise, they made a good team, as they cross-referenced and checked off each packet of money. At one point Talek smiled at her, giving her the distinct feeling that she had impressed him, so when most of the wages were handed out and Grace noticed Alfred in the distance, she felt confident enough to offer an excuse to briefly leave the room. Grace slipped outside by a side entrance and waited for Alfred to leave. As soon as she saw him walking away she returned to her seat. Talek asked her if she was well and she reassured him she was, grateful that he seemed none the wiser.
The task was repeated at Stenna Pit. Everything ran as smoothly as before and at the end Grace was relieved she had not let Talek, Henry and Amelia down. It was a much-needed boost to her confidence. As they were about to leave, three miners returned to complain they had not been paid their overtime. Puzzled, Grace began to search Henry’s records, aware Talek was watching her. Had she miscalculated? She had tackled the wages for the Stenna miners first. Although sharp-eyed and motivated to do it well, she had still been learning Henry’s system at that point, so it was possible she had missed something.
Talek was more amenable than she dared hope he would be.
‘How much do they say they are missing?’ asked Talek. Grace told him. ‘Pay them. I’ll not have them out of pocket.’ She withdrew the amount from Talek’s money bag and gave it to them. She had failed. Talek may not have said that, but she still felt it all the same. Talek came to stand beside her as she watched the miners leave.
‘I’m sorry for my mistake. It was good of you to not argue the point and show me up.’
‘If I don’t pay them what they feel is their right, it will unsettle the rest of the workers. I can’t afford such tension at the moment. Another shipment of clay is due to leave for Caradon Potteries and I can’t risk a delay. You made a mistake. It doesn’t surprise me.’
She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. His remark may be partly true, but it was also uncalled for. ‘Because I am a woman?’
‘No, because you had little time to prepare. I’ve seen Henry’s method of working and fail to understand it myself.’ Realising what her question had inferred, he looked down at her and frowned. ‘You thought I was being condescending rather than understanding, didn’t you? Do you always jump to conclusions so quickly . . . or do you save the impulsive side of your character for just me?’
He had a point. Grace looked away and stared at the open door where the miners had gone. ‘I’ll do my best to hide it in future.’
‘Impulsivity I can take . . .’ Grace looked at him, surprised, to find his steady gaze still on her ‘. . . but only in small quantities. It’s the jumping to conclusions, with no evidence, which is harder to understand.’
Grace wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Was he wanting an answer or was it just a rhetorical question. At this point, when he looked at her so directly, she really didn’t know.
‘Perhaps it is best if I don’t try,’ he replied, quietly.
‘Try what?’
‘To understand you.’ He looked down at their table, scattered with books, brown paper, ink and two pens. ‘We should pack this away. Your skills are needed for the invoicing and bills,’ he glanced at her, ‘if you are still willing to help.’
