Princess of the 19th Century Department Store - Chapter 28

Chapter 28

On Clark Street, last night’s rain had been sparse and the wind fierce. All of Whitechapel was still shaken, yet the faint daylight climbed out from behind the blue clouds as calmly as ever, shining over the gray mist.

Penny had gone to bed early last night. Once she was asleep, not even thunder could wake her, so she knew nothing about what had happened overnight.

She yawned, crawled out from under the covers with sleep-blurred eyes and a head of wildly tangled hair.

It still wasn’t light outside, and the clock hadn’t even struck. Penny casually grabbed the water jug from the windowsill, tipped her head back, and gulped down a couple mouthfuls of cold water to soothe her thirst while looking over at Daisy.

The quilt rose in a slight mound. Daisy was wrapped in the bedding, lying on her side facing the wall, looking as if she would never wake up.

That was not Daisy’s usual style.

Curious, Penny quietly shuffled over in her slippers.

When Daisy’s brain, so exhausted it had crashed, finally regained consciousness, Penny was tentatively poking her cheek.

She suppressed the urge to tell Penny to take her finger and get lost, then asked with forced patience, “What time is it? Has the clock rung?”

“Not yet, but soon.”

Daisy woke up instantly.

Every grocery store on Clark Street had suffered last night. Today, only her family could open on time!

There was no way she was missing the chance to taste the spoils of her competitors’ misfortune!

Penny watched as Daisy, who could barely open her eyes a moment ago, suddenly sharpened her gaze, threw off the covers, and began dressing and tidying up with blazing efficiency.

In less than five minutes, Daisy was bounding down the stairs and happened to run into Mary, who had just opened her door with a yawn.

Mother and daughter looked at each other, each feeling gratified by the other’s willingness to endure hardship. Soon, they were both at their posts.

The kitchen work was to start the fire, push the dough they had prepared last night into the oven, and keep an eye on the heat.

The front counter work was more tedious. Before they opened on time, they had to check the stock, clean, and separate the packaging materials in advance.

Once the two of them started working, Fred and Mr. Nash also got up before long to help, carrying water and dumping ashes.

Even Penny pouted, looking as if the prime of her youth had been delayed, rolled up her sleeves, and followed behind Daisy to help prop open packing bags before going to school after daybreak.

Within an hour, the doors of the grocery store were wide open, and the kitchen had baked dozens of pounds of bread. The rich aroma of fresh bread drifted through the entire street.

Most of the grocery stores and food shops on the nearby streets were still being questioned, so most residents made do at home or in restaurants.

When the residents of Clark Street saw that Nash Grocery was still able to open as usual, they came over in impressed confusion and formed a long line outside the store, the crowd stretching all the way past the mouth of the alley.

After breakfast hours passed, another large group spent the morning searching the streets for any grocery store that could open normally today so they could buy things they urgently needed.

Daisy stayed busy behind the counter until the clock struck past ten. Only then did she finally get a moment to breathe and take turns with Mary for a meal break.

When she had been busy, she hadn’t felt hungry at all, but the moment things eased up, her stomach began growling.

Just then, Grandfather and Dad also hurriedly finished the milk deliveries outside and pushed the cart back into the shop.

Fred wheeled out the bicycle leaning by the shop entrance, loaded up the things Daisy had set aside, and prepared to deliver them to Camden.

Mr. Nash had returned only after asking around for news. He rushed into the kitchen, his face full of excitement, and said to Daisy and the others, “I heard from the owner of Ernie Grocery that little George ran to Metropolitan Police Headquarters in the middle of the night yesterday to accuse that fellow Lobit of tax evasion…”

“Ordinarily, he might have been able to settle it by paying money, but now that he’s landed himself in trouble at a time like this, I’m afraid he won’t be getting out at all. He might be sentenced to many years in prison.”

Mr. Nash looked at Daisy and asked, plainly curious, how she had persuaded George to betray Lobit.

Daisy sat behind the dining table, rapidly chewing a slice of bread spread with a thick layer of jam.

“Naturally, by reasoning with him and appealing to his feelings.”

The matter began last night.

When Daisy arrived at the entrance of Lobit Grocery, she happened to run into little George, who was carrying a bundle and trying to flee in the chaos.

George had left the workhouse when he was only a few years old and come to Lobit’s shop. They called him an apprentice, but in reality, he was a slave.

It was bad enough that he had to do every dirty and exhausting job. He was also beaten, and he was barely paid any wages.

He had thought about running away, but he was afraid Lobit would accuse him of theft and have the police arrest him.

Whitechapel was large, but he had no money on him and no acquaintances to turn to. Where could he possibly hide?

George had been waiting for the best chance, the most suitable moment.

When Lobit was taken away for investigation because of smuggling, George’s head buzzed, and he realized his chance had come.

That day, Mrs. Lobit was completely at a loss and sent him everywhere to ask about the situation.

George pretended to cooperate, but in reality, while Mrs. Lobit wasn’t paying attention, he secretly slipped into the place where Lobit kept his money and pried out the wages he should have received over the years.

Then he packed up his things and planned to make his escape, heading to Canary Wharf to find a sailor friend he had come to know over the past few years.

Unexpectedly, it was as if God was playing a trick on him.

Clearly, the whole street had already been searched once. Everyone was on edge, no one dared to wander outside, and all the grocery store owners had been taken in for questioning. He had deliberately chosen what should have been the best possible moment!
But just then, Daisy Nash drifted out of the alley like a ghost, her expression grave, and instantly saw through what he was doing.

George had clearly seen her and Mr. Nash being taken away by the police!

Terrified, he hid the bundle behind his back.

In the kitchen, Daisy picked up a cup of warm black tea, poured in a little milk to soften the bitterness, then took a sip.

“I gave him a decent sum for travel expenses, and I promised to keep what happened today a secret for him. He has no reason not to do us this favor.

“As the old saying goes, there are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and a friend can be brought to our side.”

Mr. Nash sat down at the table, thought for a long while, then accepted the tea Daisy handed him.

“Where is that old saying from?”

The old gentleman pondered for ages and still could not remember.

“That isn’t important.”

Daisy said, “What matters is that what little George knows is very useful to us.”

Mr. Nash agreed wholeheartedly. He nodded, stroking his full beard, and said hesitantly,

“Lobit is in prison now. Doesn’t that mean this shop is something we can…”

Before he had even finished, Daisy took a letter sealed with wax from her pocket.

“A letter to the property agent. I’ve already written it. When the newspaper boy comes later, have him drop it in the postbox.”

“We’re going to rent this shop.”

Daisy’s gaze was firm.

The storefront that housed Lobit Grocery belonged to a private landlord but was handled by a property agent.

Most of the shops on Dorothy Street were managed by property agents.

Whenever there was a shop rented directly by a private landlord, those agents would find every possible way to make sure the business could not survive.

The property agents had ruthless methods and powerful backers. How could ordinary people stand against them?

With no other choice, private landlords could only hand their shops over to those agents to manage and collect a fixed rent each year.

As for occasional rent increases and the routine hounding for payment, those no longer had anything to do with the landlords.

That was also why Mr. Nash and Lisa had chosen to open their shop in a little alley back then. The location had little foot traffic, a scrap of meat stuck between the teeth, too small for the property agents to bother with.

Mr. Nash took the letter, feeling no small amount of admiration for his granddaughter’s decisiveness.

Then he heard Daisy continue,

“The average monthly rent for shops on Dorothy Street is around seven to ten pounds.

“Lobit’s shop rents for nine pounds a month.”

“Based on my observations, Dorothy Street has a stable daily foot traffic of about four thousand people.”

“All the grocery stores on Dorothy Street receive, on average, one twentieth of that traffic as walk-in customers every day. In other words, two hundred people.”

Daisy’s eyes lifted toward empty air, as though a Turing machine were calculating there.

“But Lobit Grocery’s average daily customer count is only one hundred and twenty, and the average transaction is only five pence.”

“If it were in our hands, I could at least double the customer count and triple the average transaction.”

Mr. Nash quickly ran through the numbers in his head as Daisy described them.

If they could really reach that figure, daily revenue would be as high as fifteen pounds!

In this field, Daisy was extremely confident.

“In half a month, I can earn back the entire year’s rent and still have money left over.”

“Only, we will definitely need to invest now. Although I’m the one keeping the money, you and Grandmother still have to agree to this.”

Mr. Nash had no doubt whatsoever about the returns Daisy promised.

Never mind the average income of the grocery stores on Dorothy Street.

The facts were right in front of him. After Daisy began managing the shop, the grocery’s daily profit had become four or five times what it was before.

Her words truly carried weight and were enough to convince people.

Mr. Nash tucked the letter away and rose to his feet, sighing to himself. He had lived all these years and weathered every storm imaginable, yet somehow he still did not have as much nerve as his granddaughter!

But he was also gratified. One generation surpassing the last-that was where hope came from, wasn’t it?

“Your grandmother will definitely agree. If she can stomp Lobit into the dirt and take over his place too, she’d borrow from loan sharks to make it happen.

“You go on and get busy. I’ll go upstairs and talk to her about it. I guarantee she’ll be so happy she’ll jump for joy.”

Daisy smiled faintly.

Borrowing from loan sharks, leveraging debt, signing massive performance-bet agreements-that was how she had gotten her start in her previous life.

Only with money falling from the sky could she spread out her stall and achieve the greatest expansion in the shortest amount of time.

Unfortunately, the gentlemen on the streets of London these days were very good at chopping off hands and feet, mincing people into fine bits, and tossing them into the Thames to feed the fish.

Her family had no solid backer now, not even half an umbrella of protection. They did not even dare offend the vicious dogs by the roadside.

If she wanted to live a few more days, she absolutely could not provoke those people.

Ah, she still had to build it brick by brick.

After quickly finishing a few slices of bread, Daisy went back out, pulled herself together, and took over from Mary.

As soon as she was behind the counter, she became more energetic than anyone, sweeping piles upon piles of coins into the drawer. Before noon, the shop had already served no fewer than three hundred customers.

Revenue was no less than ten pounds.

…

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