Page 37 of The Armor of Light
There was a pause, and Spade waited on edge for Midwinter’s reaction.
At last he said: ‘Yes, I’d be glad to put in ten pounds.’
Spade breathed easier and moved on. ‘We’d have to set a repayment date in, say, ten years from now.’
‘I agree.’
‘And charge Amos interest.’
‘Of course.’
Jane said thoughtfully: ‘Amos will have to save all his money to pay back the loan. He’s going to be poor for ten years.’
‘True,’ said Spade. ‘And most important of all, I’d like you, Canon Midwinter, to be treasurer of the fund.’
Midwinter shrugged. ‘You could be treasurer. People know you’re honest.’
Spade smiled. ‘But you’re a canon of the cathedral. You’re gilt-edged.’
‘Very well.’
Jane clapped her hands. ‘So Amos will be rescued...eventually.’
‘I haven’t done it yet,’ Spade said. ‘I’ve only started.’
*
Spade liked his sister’s shop. He and Kate shared a love of fabrics: the colours, the different weaves, the soft touch of merino, the sturdy heft of tweed. Their father had been a weaver and their mother a seamstress, so they had been born into the clothing industry just as princes and princesses were born into idleness and luxury.
He examined the coat Kate had made for Arabella Latimer, the bishop’s wife. It had a three-tier cape collar, tight sleeves, and a high, gathered waist that fell in pleats to the ankles, showing off the rich colours and understated check pattern of the material. ‘That will look gorgeous on her,’ Spade said. ‘I knew it would.’
‘It had better,’ Kate said. ‘She’s paying a lot for it.’
‘Trust me,’ said Spade. ‘I know what pleases a woman.’
Kate made a scornful noise, and Spade laughed.
Kate herself was wearing a lot of lace: a lace scarf over her shoulders, long lace frills to her sleeves, and a lace overskirt. She had a pretty face, and lace suited her; but the real reason was that she had invested in a large stock and was showing it to the customers.
The shop occupied the ground floor of a house in the High Street that had been Kate and Spade’s childhood home. Kate lived there with her partner, Rebecca. On the floor above were bedrooms that could be used as changing rooms by customers trying on clothes. Above that level were Kate and Rebecca’s rooms, and the kitchen was in the basement.
While Spade was admiring Mrs Latimer’s coat, his brother-in-law came down from the upstairs wearing a brand-new militia uniform. Kate did not normally make clothes for men, but Freddie Caines was the young brother of Spade’s late wife. Freddie was eighteen, and had just been recruited into the militia; and Kate had made his uniform as a special favour.
‘Well,’ said Kate, ‘you look quite splendid!’
He did, and the grin on his face said he knew it.
Spade said: ‘You’ll be the only recruit in the entire Shiring Militia wearing a made-to-measure uniform.’ Officers had their uniforms tailored, but other ranks wore cheap ready-mades.
‘Can I keep it on?’ Freddie said. ‘I want to show it off.’
‘Of course,’ said Kate.
‘I’ll come back for my old clothes – they’re upstairs.’
As Freddie left, Mrs Latimer came in through the street door, the end of her nose red with cold. Spade bowed and Kate dropped a curtsy: a bishop’s wife merited respect.
But Arabella Latimer was always informal and friendly. She immediately saw the new coat on the table. ‘Is this it?’ she said. ‘It’s gorge0us.’ She stroked and squeezed the fabric with both hands, evidently enjoying the feeling. She’s a sensual woman, Spade thought; wasted on that fat bishop.
