Good enough,she supposed. It wasn’t as if she were trying to force a six-year-old to be a chimney sweep. Charlotte couldn’t contain a small shudder at the dreadful notion. What an awful existence those children had endured before the Chimney Sweepers’ Act passed a mere four years earlier. While many youngsters still worked dangerous jobs in mines, mills, and factories, at least she could offer Edward something better.
“Very well. At first, I thought you were younger and could only tidy and sweep, but since you’re twelve, I hope I can count on you to handle deliveries. Our confectionery goes to hotels and restaurants around the area. Can you handle that?”
“Oh, yes, miss. I know London as well as any cabbie.”
“Good. You might be given tips by any of those establishments, and you’re free to accept them. Plus, I’ll pay you—” With no idea what she ought to give him, she almost saidthruppence, then doubled it at the last second. “Six pence a day.”
His eyes grew wide. “A tanner, miss! That’s a pound, every forty days!” His tone was one of awe.
“Maybe sooner. We’ll see how you get on, Edward. Shall we?” Plus, she had to ask her mother, and maybe Felicity would say it ought to be a shilling a day, in which case the boy’s eyes might fall out of his head altogether. It also depended on how many hours he put in and what use they could make of him.
“We’ll have to make you a small apron like I used to have when I was a youngster, but for now, come in the back.”
Leading him between the counters and into the workroom, she showed him where he could hang his coat and put his scruffy cap on a shelf. Then she hung her own coat beside his, before untying her bonnet, having been unable to care about pinning a stylish hat in place that morning.
From the drawer where they stored aprons, she pulled out a clean one and tried tying it high up under his arms. It did no good. He would still trip.
“Never mind, I’ll figure out your apron by tomorrow.” Charlotte pinned and tied her own on. He nodded, staring around the room at the big iron stove and copper counters and across from it, the marble slab where Amity tempered chocolate.
“Tell me, how did your family like the sweets?” she asked, taking up the bottle of vinegar from another cupboard and a few old newspapers.
His gaze snapped back to her. “Those are for Easter Sunday, miss, and not before.”
Restraint—another good trait in the boy, not often seen in children.
“Let’s have you start by cleaning the glass display cases out front with this vinegar and rub them down with the newspapers.” If they got the opening chores done, and if a large enough crowd gathered, Charlotte might turn the sign around early.
“Take that pail, put in some water from the sink, and then pour in about two tablespoons of vinegar.”
He looked instantly anxious.
“Here, let’s do it together today. Put the pail under the tap.”
She let him fill it half full and place it on the floor. “Now, as I pour, I shall count, one ... two. There, that’s about enough.”
Edward carried the bucket through to the front.
“Now, fold up some paper and dip it in. Don’t touch your eyes until you’ve had a chance to wash your hands or it will sting like the devil. Right then, wipe the glass and the fingerprints and smears shall disappear.”
“They do,” he said wondrously.
She went back and snatched up the small bristle broom.
“We do the display cases every day, sometimes twice if children have come in and pressed against them. Or anyone without gloves,” she added, starting to sweep the front floor, working around Edward. “And we do the inside of the front windows a couple times a week. My mother has a man who comes around and does the outside, along with the stores on either side of us.”
While she spoke, she finished sweeping any debris into the dustpan, which she dumped into the rubbish bin in the back. Edward finished a moment later, standing back to observe his efforts, before darting forward to clean one spot again.
“You can dump that in the sink, slowly and carefully please so as not to splash. There’s a rubbish bin in the corner for the newsprint, and then wash your hands thoroughly.”
“Yes, miss.” He disappeared behind the curtain, and Charlotte pulled the cashbox out from under the counter, confirming she had plenty of coins to make change for any early customers.
“Now, we make the display shelves look attractive,” she told him. “As you can see, after yesterday, they’re nearly empty.”
They had two confectionery cupboards with trays of sweets and a coldbox with ice at the top and bottom, keeping such items as their butter and milk. Amity also used it to quickly cool fondant or chocolate when she was making bonbons. While Beatrice’s toffee hardly ever needed its help to harden, in the hottest weeks of the London summer, Charlotte found the coldbox useful to keep her small marzipan confections from becoming unappealing blobs. Luckily, that wasn’t a problem at their busiest times of year, Valentine’s Day, Easter, and Christmas.
Hearing the door’s bell tinkle, she snatched up a tray and gave another to Edward before hurrying to the front.
“Good morning,” Amity said, stopping in her tracks at the sight of Edward.
