The Carpenter's Children by Maggie Bennett Page A

with you in that place where we first declared our love. If only we could be together again, I wouldn’t be bothered by these rumours from abroad, whatever Mr Saville says.’)
    Tom Munday folded the letter and put it in its envelope, ready for posting. And at that moment he made up his mind to discontinue this censorship of their letters. His daughter and Mark Storey had proved the enduring nature of their love, and had earned the right to privacy. It had been two years,for heaven’s sake, and as far as Tom Munday was concerned, the couple could meet and make plans for their future.

    Stepaside was a high-class tea room in Everham, known for its excellent home-made cakes and atmosphere of quiet refinement; it was situated conveniently for lady shoppers, and Lady Neville always took refreshments there when she came to Everham on business or shopping. It was run by a Mrs Brangton and her daughter Miss Brangton, and when an advertisement appeared in the
Everham News
for a suitable young lady to work as a waitress and assist in the kitchen at Stepaside, Grace Munday saw it and begged her father to let her apply, even though she had not yet had her fifteenth birthday, and was still a pupil at the council school. When approached Mr Chisman made no objection, and Grace, overjoyed at the prospect of escape from boring lessons and spiteful teachers, attended an interview with Mrs Brangton, where her pretty manners and dimpled smiles won her the place. Overnight she turned into Miss Munday, a young lady dressed in a long black skirt and high-necked white blouse, who earned her own living and travelled daily on the horse-drawn omnibus between North Camp and Everham. Her parents had mixed feelings at first, but she settled well, and her obvious happiness reassured them.
    Stepaside opened at midday, but behind itsgenteel frontage the morning activity in the kitchen was intense. Miss Munday arrived at eight, donned an overall and tied a triangular white square around her head, to assist both ladies in their tasks. Miss Brangton baked the cottage loaves which went into the oven at nine, having been ‘proved’ and rekneaded since the dough was made at seven. Mrs Brangton made the cakes of all kinds – fruit, chocolate, coffee and walnut (a great favourite), and sponges plain and flavoured, halved and filled with buttercream. While she wielded her wooden spoon and poured the mixtures into baking tins, Miss Brangton sliced vegetables for soup, simmering them with ham or beef bones, and Miss Munday had to assist both ladies who frequently needed her at the same time. At half past eleven she sat down to a delicious bowl of freshly made soup and a slice of home-baked bread, still warm from the oven, and at five to twelve she put on a frilly white apron with a matching cap, ready for her duties as waitress, in which she was joined and supervised by Miss Brangton. A stout woman called Mrs Hodge arrived to do the washing up; she stayed in the kitchen, while Mrs Brangton disappeared into an inner sanctum to do her accounts, issuing forth from time to time to greet her customers and exchange a word here and there – as if she hadn’t been working her socks off all the morning, thought Miss Munday admiringly.
    Lunches consisted of the delectable soup andbread, with the addition or alternative of something on toast – poached or scrambled egg, cheese or grilled tomatoes. Miss Brangton prepared these, and kept two big kettles on the boil for tea. Lunches continued until two o’clock when there was a lull before teas began at three and continued until half past five. This was the busiest time, when the afternoon shoppers arrived for their usual treat, tea at Stepaside. Miss Munday welcomed all the ladies and the occasional gentleman, usually a husband, with smiling deference, taking their orders and dealing with each one promptly. She loved it.
    But one afternoon there was a difficulty. Mrs Bentley-Foulkes, a very elegant lady and regular patron,