The Baker's Daughter (8 page)

Angus scanned the piece of paper she held out to him which told him that Jean Ross had been a conscientious and hardworking pupil, and neat and tidy in her work.

He explained the demands of the job. ‘It's hard work.'

‘I'm not afraid of hard work,' she said with a little spurt of spirit.

‘And early rising,' he added. ‘The shop's open at eight for people wanting breakfast rolls.'

‘I'm always up early,' she said a little
defiantly.

‘Right you are.' There was not much left to say, except for discussion of wages and her insurance stamp and time off. ‘A half day a week, and a week's holiday in the summer.'

She was not ideal. He would have liked a big, strong girl capable of handling the large trays of loaves and rolls, but he was anxious to fill the post.

‘She'll have to do,' he said to Rona as he ushered the girl out of the shop.

‘You start on Monday, Jeannie. Mind, eight sharp.'

Rona was a little disappointed. She would have liked someone a bit brighter, someone you could share a joke with. And what about Aunt Lizzie when she came back again?

Poor Jeannie, she thought. If she was in awe of Father, she would be absolutely terrified of Aunt Lizzie.

But Maclaren's were taking on staff and this new girl would be under Rona's supervision.

‘Fancy me with a junior assistant,' thought Rona, and liked the idea.

AN UNFORTUNATE OCCURRENCE

The new assistant, Jeannie, proved to be a willing worker—she scurried backwards and forwards, and to Rona's surprise, was
much
stronger than she looked, lifting trays without much effort and sweeping the floor energetically.

Rona rather enjoyed being in charge of her, and clearly Jeannie looked up to Rona and was willing to do whatever Rona asked.

Sometimes Rona tried to draw her out, but there was no talk of home or boyfriends or outings. Once Rona had suggested an evening at the pictures, but Jeannie shook her head. ‘I've things to do at home,' so Rona gave up.

‘If she doesn't want to, that's it.'

But she liked the quiet little girl, always in her spotless white pinafore, and having Jeannie as an extra hand certainly made things easier in the shop.

It was a good thing Aunt Lizzie was still away, Rona smiled to herself. She could just imagine how Jeannie would be terrified of Aunt Lizzie. Even Callum's scared of her, thought Rona.

She wondered for a moment how Aunt Lizzie was getting on, and whether she and Maisie were still on speaking terms. There had been a postcard or two, but her aunt would never think of phoning. She regarded the phone as a needless extravagance.

*        *        *

It was perhaps a few weeks later that the trouble began. Rona had risen early. Now that
the
days were lighter, she liked to hear the dawn chorus and usually lay awake for a little while listening, but she had to be at the shop by eight, and there was no time for dreaming.

It was going to be a bright day, she thought as she dressed, glancing out of the window at the garden, springing into life now. The daffodils against the wall were a cheerful patch of colour and soon the wallflower and dwarf tulips under the window would be out and every day would be warmer.

Angus was busy making up the orders when she arrived and she sniffed, enjoying as she always did, the smell of freshly baked rolls.

‘We're needing some more paper bags,' he said a little later. ‘Away you go along to Grant's and get say, four dozen. Get a receipt, remember and take the money out of the petty cash.'

Rona opened the cash box that was kept on a ledge behind the counter, and locked away every night. ‘There's nothing in the box, Father,' she said.

‘Nonsense. There must be. There's two or three pounds there. I put the money in myself yesterday. Did you lock it away last night?'

Rona tried to remember. She'd been hurrying to get away to meet Callum as they were going to the pictures and she'd promised to be at the Regal on time so they wouldn't miss the big picture.

‘I . . . I can't remember.'

‘You
mean you didn't.' Angus stared at the empty box.

‘I've the petty cash records here,' Rona said. She'd been careful about checking the petty cash, as instructed by Aunt Lizzie. ‘And all the receipts, but there's been nothing paid out for the last few weeks, not since . . .' she checked the slips, ‘not since I bought tea and sugar, and that was a week or two back.'

‘And I've topped up the tin every week,' said Angus, puzzled. ‘A couple of pounds at a time, in shillings and florins mostly, the odd half crown. There's a note in the box.'

‘But . . .' he shook the box, ‘there's nothing left.' He looked serious. ‘It would seem to me that money's going missing from the petty cash. As if I hadn't enough to think about. And where's the girl?'

A few moments later, the door burst open and Jeannie hurried in. ‘I'm that sorry,' she said. ‘I couldn't get away from home on time.'

‘You should have been here at eight,' said Angus coldly. ‘That's the terms of your employment. If you're going to keep coming in late . . .'

‘I'm sorry,' she apologised, flushing. ‘It'll not happen again.'

‘Well, you'd better get your apron on and get down to work,' he said. ‘Rona, you and I will have to sort out this business of the money. I don't like to think . . . .' he paused. ‘Ah well.'

He
glanced at Jeannie. Surely not . . .

They decided that he should put an extra couple of pounds in the box and mark the notes. ‘That way,' he said, ‘if anyone's coming in to the shop and knows where the box is, we'd be certain to catch them red handed.' He shook his head. ‘I don't like it. I've never had this kind of thing before, never in all the years.' His voice tailed off.

It was perhaps a couple of weeks later that Angus took the box to lock it away for the night. That was odd, he thought. It felt light, though he'd put in two or three pounds and some small change only that morning.

But now the box was empty.

He was at work next thy early as usual, and Jeannie, who had as she promised turned up on time every day, arrived just after him.

The morning was busy, there were orders to get out for two boarding houses in the town, and a special delivery of teacakes and sultana and cherry slab cake to the town hall for an afternoon function.

So it was not until the shop was quiet later on, that Jeannie approached him hesitantly.

‘I was wondering, Mr Maclaren, could I take my dinner-break early? I'm wanting to get to the shops before one.'

‘Aye, that'll be all right,' he said a little absently. And then he thought. ‘Jeannie, I'm not saying anything, but did you open the petty cash box yesterday?'

Rona,
tidying the shelves, turned sharply. Surely Father wasn't accusing Jeannie?

Jeannie's face flushed. ‘Me? Me, Mr Maclaren? What would I be wanting with the petty cash box?'

‘You were the only one here,' he returned. ‘Mind you, I'm not saying anything.'

He hesitated a moment. ‘I wouldn't like to suspect anyone, so you'll not mind if I ask you to open your purse.'

Jeannie went to her coat hanging in the back shop and produced a shabby leather purse.

‘You'll open it, please. You understand?' Angus was a fair man. ‘You were the only one here, so I have to be certain. Just a precaution.'

Very slowly she opened the purse and laid out the heap of sixpences, a few shillings and two ten-shilling notes.

Angus picked up the notes and held them out to her. ‘They're marked,' he said. ‘These were the ones I marked.'

Jeannie stared at him, horrified. Then she burst into tears. ‘I never meant to,' she sobbed. ‘I needed the money. I was going to put it back, honest.'

‘Honest?' Angus's voice rose. ‘You don't know the meaning of the word. And how long has this been going on?'

‘It was just a little at first—maybe a shilling or two.' She spoke so quietly, that Rona,
standing
behind the counter, could hardly hear her.

Angus looked at her coldly. ‘I can't have anyone working here that I can't trust,' he said. ‘Miss Maclaren here will give you your money till the end of the week and you can go now. Fetch your coat and get out.'

‘Father!' said Rona.

‘Be quiet, Rona, this is nothing to do with you.'

‘But you're being unfair. It could have been anyone. It could have been me.'

‘But it wasn't, was it, Rona?' He glared at her.

‘No, of course not,' she said hotly.

‘Well, there's only one thief here, and it's been proved. Go on, girl, get your wages from Miss Maclaren and you can be off.'

Jeannie was silent. She didn't look at Rona and in a few minutes she was gone, closing the door quietly behind her.

‘Well,' said Angus heavily, ‘we'd best get back to work. I'm just thankful the shop was empty.'

There was something very strange about the whole situation, thought Rona. She knew there was no use talking to Father, but she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

A
LESSON OF LIFE

It was perhaps a fortnight later, a pleasant late spring evening with a slight breeze, when Callum and Rona met up.

‘There's nothing much on at the pictures,' he said. ‘Fancy a walk? We could go down by the harbour and along the sands.'

‘Fine.'

‘And maybe stop for an ice-cream if the café's still open.'

‘I'd like that.'

They set off down the road that led to the harbour. Rona had often wondered about these little houses—all in a row, they must be cramped inside and no front garden like the ones they'd just passed which were bright with late tulips and wallflowers.

As they approached one of the houses, Rona thought that it looked just like all the rest, except there was a figure bent double who seemed to be whitening the step. The woman—no, it was a girl—looked up and seeing Rona, looked away again quickly and bent down to her work.

‘Callum,' said Rona, ‘would you mind walking on? I'll catch up with you in a minute. There's . . . someone I know, I want to speak to.'

‘Right you are.' Callum was good-natured as
always.
‘I'll wait for you on the pier.'

Rona watched him as he walked away, then turned to the girl who had ignored her.

‘Jeannie?'

Jeannie looked up, the brush in her hand. ‘Did you want something?' she said in a flat sort of tone.

‘Not really. We were just passing. I, er, I didn't know you lived here.'

‘Well, we do.' Jeannie was not prepared to say more. ‘A fine evening,' she blurted out, looking awkward.

‘You're busy.' Rona hesitated.

‘Aye. Did you want something?' Jeannie repeated.

‘No, I wasn't spying or anything,' said Rona hastily.

Jeannie looked up and down the narrow street. ‘Do you want to come in? Folk are gossips round here.'

‘Just for a moment. Callum and I are out for a walk.'

She followed Jeannie into the little house. There was a narrow passageway and off it a small living room with a table, a couple of dining chairs and an easy chair.

Beyond, Rona could see a scullery. At the dining room table sat a boy about twelve years old, a jotter and book spread out in front of him.

‘I'm sorry about the smell of fish,' Jeannie apologised. ‘There's a man at the harbour
gives
me the odd whiting.' She sniffed. ‘We had it for our tea.'

She turned to the boy. ‘Say hello to Miss Maclaren, Tommy,' she said sharply. ‘And then you take your books to the bedroom.' The boy muttered a shy, ‘Hello,' and disappeared.

‘I didn't know you had a brother,' said Rona.

‘Two,' said Jeannie briefly. ‘The other one's George. He's in his bed. He's not that well.' A shadow crossed her face.

Rona hesitated then said all in a rush, ‘I'm sorry about what happened.'

‘Fair enough,' said Jeannie, and Rona, surprised, thought how much more confident she seemed in her own home. ‘I was caught stealing and any boss would have sacked me.'

‘But,' Rona was puzzled. ‘Why?'

‘I needed the money. Tommy needs new boots for the school and I want him to have a blazer. How do you think I could afford these things? And George needs to be kept warm so there's money needed for coal.'

Rona was silent for a moment, then she said, ‘ But do you pay for all this? I mean—'

She knew that Jeannie hadn't earned a great deal at the baker's.

‘I work in the evenings, cleaning offices and sometimes up at the caravans,' said the girl. ‘He's clever, Tommy,' said Jeannie, fiercely proud, ‘and he's going to have the chances I never had. And I'm not likely to get another
job
now, am I? Your father—he said he'd not give me a reference, and I'd not blame him. No boss wants someone who's been caught stealing.'

‘I don't understand.' Rona looked round the shabby sitting room.

‘There's only us,' said Jeannie. ‘So I want the best for them.'

‘Your mother?'

‘She died three years ago—it was TB, they said, but she was never strong.'

‘And your father?' Rona felt she was being inquisitive, but she was anxious to know about the little family. ‘Could he not, I mean, is he . . .?'

She didn't like to say the word
dead
, so instead she asked, ‘Is he—gone?'

‘I'll say he's gone. Disappeared when George was three months old and no-one's seen hair nor hide of him since. Probably dead,' added Jeannie casually.

‘Jeannie . . .' Rona didn't know how to put it. This poor little room, the family struggling for a living. ‘Could you not get help—from the council? An allowance or something?'