Princess of the 19th Century Department Store - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After a simple afternoon tea, Daisy sat behind the counter waiting for customers while dividing the wholesaler’s large sacks of sugar and flour into smaller packages.

She had to weigh them with an old-fashioned balance scale. The weights she used most often were one pound, along with smaller eight-ounce weights, which made half a pound.

She folded white paper into packets, wrapped a layer of newspaper around the middle, pasted another sheet of white paper on the outside, and tied everything up with hemp string.

Before long, the stationery she had ordered that morning was delivered as well. Daisy inspected it carefully before arranging it inside the counter.

The first customers were the cooks who worked in the restaurants on Dorothy Street. After the lunch rush, they had a little time to rest.

When the brass bell hanging at the entrance of the little grocery shop rang, Daisy looked up and saw two middle-aged women walk in. Both wore brown cotton dresses and small caps, with wicker baskets over their arms. One had a pockmarked face, and the other had a pointed chin.

She stood with a smile. “What can I get for you? We have quite a few new goods in today.”

The two women lived nearby and were regulars here. They had heard that the little grocery shop was closing, so they had come to take a look.

To their surprise, the moment they stepped inside, they caught a faint scent of soap. It seemed as though the entire place had been cleaned from top to bottom, everything neat and orderly-more carefully arranged than usual. It hardly looked like a shop about to close.

Smelling the soap reminded the pockmarked woman that her own household was out of it.

“I’ll take two bars of soap, eight ounces of salt. How much is flour per pound now?”

Daisy listened, then calmly weighed out the salt behind the counter. Without even glancing at the purchase list, she answered, “Flour is two pence a pound. We also have fresh cornmeal in today, three pence for two pounds…”

Both women bought groceries and cooked for their families every day, so they knew the prices of daily necessities by heart. One listen was enough for them to tell whether something was cheap or not.

Daisy guessed they had just been paid their weekly wages of twenty shillings and were preparing to buy enough food and vegetables for the coming week. They counted as excellent customers.

The pockmarked woman added, “Then I’ll take two pounds of wheat flour, two pounds of cornmeal, eight ounces of butter, two cans of tomatoes, and two boxes of matches.”

As Daisy patiently introduced the new goods, her hands never stopped moving. In no time, she had wrapped up the salt with practiced ease.

Seeing this, the pockmarked woman couldn’t help raising her brows. “That’s a beautifully tied paper packet. No worse than a paper box.”

“Oh, do you have candy and biscuits? Pack me one pound of each, just like that.”

Daisy agreed and turned to take two large tin boxes from the shelf. Inside were brown, hard toffee balls and honey biscuits, both items they had in relatively large stock.

“Would these do? The candy is twelve pence a pound, and the biscuits are six pence. You can try them first.”

Using a piece of paper, she pinched out samples and handed them over. Then she spread a sheet of wrapping paper over a tray. Her movements were as graceful as a dance, and her hands were so well practiced that one scoop from the tin came out to exactly one pound.

After tasting them, the pointed-chin woman also bought a great many food items, then said, “Pack me a portion of the candy and biscuits like that too. Saves me from buying a paper box.”

Once everything was wrapped, Daisy asked whether they were taking the packages as gifts. If so, she could write a card and paste it on for them.

They were indeed giving them to a coworker who had just set up a new household, but neither of them knew what the card should say.

After asking for their coworker’s name, Daisy wrote one out as an example.

The two women held it up and read it, then nodded. “Very proper. Write it just like that.”

Before long, both women’s baskets were filled with all sorts of goods, and they were also carrying tied paper packets in their hands.

Daisy counted the coins on the counter. Ninety-two pence in all.
Before the two women walked through the door, they had absolutely no intention of spending that much money.

In her previous life, when Daisy had first started her business, she had done every job there was-including working the counter.

She knew better than anyone how much a good clerk could affect sales.

After serving two or three more scattered customers, the tavern across from her shop opened for business after two in the afternoon.

The one responsible for shoveling the snow, hanging the open sign, and lighting the gas lamps was a handyman named Nathan, one of only two employees at the tavern.

Nathan wore an old tweed suit, a flat wool cap on his head, and an ugly pair of worn-out shoes. As soon as he finished hanging the sign, he dashed over through the snow.

He ducked into the grocery, rubbed his hands together, and familiarly asked Daisy for a box of cheap matches.

Nathan opened the matchbox, pulled an unsealed cigar from his pocket, and slowly toasted it alight with a match.

“I heard your family was planning to close up shop. Is Mrs. Nash better now?”

By the customs of the time, the eldest couple in a family was addressed as Mr. and Mrs. So this Mrs. Nash referred to her grandmother.

Daisy finished repackaging the last bag of powdered sugar, then turned and stacked it into a paper box.

“Much better. And we’re not closing. From now on, I’ll be watching the shop.”

At that, Nathan curled his lip and gave a somewhat contemptuous smile.

He knew Daisy had always been the quiet, gentle sort. She had not inherited even a shred of Mrs. Nash’s fiery temper. Her, run a shop?

Besides, the tavern was full of drunks. She was a pretty girl-wasn’t she afraid of being harassed?

Though, admittedly, her father Fred was built like a bear.

Nathan took a drag of his cigar, then suddenly noticed the tightly wrapped paper packets on the counter. Every one of them was exactly the same size.

Their corners were neat and square, as handsome as if they had been made by a machine.

He praised them a couple of times, then casually asked why those policemen had come by that morning.

His eyes drifted around the shop as if by accident.

The grocery counter seemed better stocked than before, and someone had clearly taken care arranging it. The bottles and jars were lined up in perfect order.

At a glance, the place was crowded, yet unexpectedly pleasing to the eye. It even made a person want to buy something.

He looked for quite a while, but did not see any tobacco or alcohol.

As for the police, Daisy brushed him off with a few simple words and lied as naturally as breathing.

“They were investigating a case. Said someone died near Tower Bridge.

From what I heard, the victim seemed to be connected to a smuggling case.

Those policemen were all from Scotland Yard, so it looks like it’s become a big deal.

But I might have heard wrong.”

Daisy’s face was full of confusion. She still looked as quiet and gentle as ever, not at all like someone capable of lying.

When Nathan heard they were investigating smuggling, he was briefly stunned. His expression shifted, and he hurriedly found an excuse to leave.

Only after watching him go did she lift her chin and tug her lips into a faint, disdainful smile.

The cigar Nathan had held between his fingers just now was produced in the Philippines. It was called a Luzon Cigar.

Both ends of the cigar were left unsealed, so there was no need to cut it open. It was exactly the sort of stock Lobit liked to bring in.

The laborers who ate on Dorothy Street loved this kind of cigar best. It had a strong kick, and sometimes it was even cheaper than ones made in England.

She shook her head. Lobit had sent someone to snoop around, yet he was only willing to hand out such a cheap cigar. How stingy.

Daisy sat behind the counter, facing outside as she watched the fine snow whirl through the alley and fell into thought.

In truth, for a grocery store, Lobit Grocery occupied an excellent location.

It was close to a dense street of restaurants, where the flow of people was heavy at all three mealtimes.

Unfortunately, the place had simply ended up with the wrong owner.

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