Bitter Eden by Sharon Anne Salvato Read Free Book Online Page A

turned as Callie began to close the door. "Don't close it," he said. "Some of my friends are coming too. I'm just the first to get here. I like being first."
    "I don't understand. Who else is coming here? Why?"
    The man smiled and placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Don't fash yourself, girl. We're all friends of your papa's comin to wish him well in the next life. Didn't he tell you anything about his doings?"
    "His doings? My father was working with members of the House of Lords and the House of Commons for labor reform. Is that what you mean?"
    "Of course, that's what I mean. Well, miss, we're the men your father was working to help. We're the ones needing reforms." He laughed aloud. "And maybe a bit of reforming."
    Several other men and three women came up the stairs and into the Dawson flat. They all seemed to know each other, and were laughing, talking rapidly

    and somewhat shyly, Callie thought, offering her their condolences. Slowly Callie lost her fear and began to enjoy these raucous and jovial people, who all seemed to have loved her father.
    "Shall we have a little morsel?" one of the women asked Callie, then went with her to the pantry to help her prepare food for the guests. "Oh! Rum cakes!" the woman exclaimed. "How I love them! Shall we put them on a separate plate . . . just for you an' me, honey?" She winked at Callie.
    Callie laughed, more at ease now. "Put them on a plate just for yourself. I'd like you to have them."
    "You've a kind and generous heart, just like your papa. I was tellin Jane as we came up here you'd be a good sort. I knew you would with a papa like yours."
    Callie blushed with pleasure, murmuring thanks.
    "Been raised to be a lady, haven't you?" the woman said through a mouth filled with cake. "That'd be Ian's way too." Laughing, she went back into the main room to rejoin her friends.
    Callie brought out platters of sandwiches, biscuits, and cakes and placed them on a low table near the sofa. She was appalled, then gratified to see grubby hands grabbing the dainties from the platters and mashing them into mouths. Callie ignored the rising noise level and the crudity of her guests. They roamed freely about the apartment, poking their noses into cupboards, handling figurines and ornaments. They went into her bedroom, inspected all the rooms and cabinets of the flat. After her initial shock at such behavior wore off, she accepted these people for what they were. Inside she felt warm and pleased. They had known her father, and it was for these people he had worked every day of his life. She began to think warmly of the nights when he had talked to her of Parliament and how laws were made and why change

    came about. It had sounded so grand and important, and now it seemed her first opportunity had come for her to see the people her father wanted to help. In her very young, very innocent mind she tried to imagine how different these people would be after reform, when their manners would improve and their clothing would match the garments of the men her father had let her meet. She tried to place dignity on the bloated, frazzle-haired women who were now laughing too loudly in her flat.
    No one paid any attention when one more voice was added to the cacophony. Then suddenly there was a sharp piercing shriek. Callie jumped to her feet.
    "Out! Out of here, you scum! Go, before I beat your knotty heads in!" Mrs. Pettibone's broom swished through the air, striking heads and backs. She smacked the last ill-clad, foul-smelling man from the flat, then planted her foot on his rear end and sent him tumbling down the stairs to the landing. Breathless, she slumped into a chair. "My word, child! What possessed you to let that rabble in here?"
    "You shouldn't have done that, Mrs. Pettibone. I invited them in. They came to pay their respects," Callie said excitedly. "What will they think of me?"
    'Think of you? You're lucky they didn't slit your throat. You can thank your papa for that, I suppose.