Chapter 9: Chapter 9

He tucked his head down as the incessant rain seemed to be bent on hitting him in the face, and tugged his cap as low as it would go. Small cakes. Small cakes and biscuits to go with the drinks. He had absolutely no idea how to make such things, but his mother might be able to help with that. Before his father had died, and they had been respectable, he remembered his mother in her neat apron and his father in his smart suit and hat. His smile at the memory was sad for a moment, but then he recalled the treats his mother used to bake and was sure she would know what to do and how to make them. It also struck him quite forcibly that if he could make money he could share with his mother, and possibly keep it away from the thieving hands of Stanley March, she might even be persuaded to get away from him altogether. His heart thumped at the notion as he headed to his mother’s house.