Paper Daisies - #wattys2017

Henry

Henry awoke to complete silence. It was still dark outside and the rain from the previous day ha stopped. Looking out the window, Henry could see that it was near dawn, cracks of sunlight seeping over the neighbouring buildings. Knowing he wasn't going to get anymore sleep he left the warmth of his bed and got ready for the rest of his day.

He went down into the shop and lit the new gas lamps he had had installed the previous month, grabbing a little something for Charlie. He sat behind the counter and started work on the last few gloves he had.

It wasn't too much later, when the sun had just risen, visible through the London smog that Charlie came in.

"Mornin' Mr Parker, sir." The boy said cheerily. In his skinny arms he held a small box, that looked much larger then it really was in the boy's grasp.

"Morning there, Charlie." Henry said. "What's this then?" He asked getting up from his seat.

"Arti... Arti..." Charlie stumbled, trying to interpret the label on the box.

"Artificial?"

"Yeah." Charlie grinned. "They're artificial flowers."

"Thank you." Henry said, taking the box from Charlie and bringing it to the back room. Calling over his shoulder he said, "There's some breakfast for you under the counter."

Henry put the box down and turned to see through the door, Charlie bending over, searching the shelf beneath the counter for the piece of cheese Henry had left there, wrapped in grease-proof paper.

Henry turned back to his box of artificial flowers. According to the label they were meant to arrive along with the ribbons, gloves and bonnets that had come yesterday. At they had arrived in the end, and that Henry had busied himself with making the rest of his order, it was going to take all day to make the ten corsages required. If he finished in time he would fix some of the left over flowers to the embellished hats he had done the day prior. He gathered his materials and returned to the front counter, which doubled as a workbench.

Charlie was on the other side, wolfing down a carefully halved piece of bread and crumble of cheese. Once he was finished he lightly dusted off his fingers and neatly folded the reminder in it's greaseproof paper and slipped it into his pocket.

"Is that for your sister?" Henry asked, noting the pocketed food.

"Yes, sir, it is."

"How old is she?" Henry was quite a curious person, and often ended up prying a bit to far into people's affairs because of this.

"She's six, sir." Charlie didn't seem too fazed with Henry's interrogation.

"An what of your family? Do have parents or any other siblings?"

"No parents, they died a few years ago. And no, I don't have any other siblings. It's just Sophie and me." He said matter-of-factly.

Henry nodded and there was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "Where is Sophie when you're out working?" He was genuinely curious. His family had never been in the position of children having to work, and as far as he was aware none of his family had ever been orphaned. Henry wanted to know how Charlie's family unit worked, with it being from what seemed like a different world to his own.

"She works at the match factory." Charlie said simply.

"But she's only a child, she should be in school. So should you." Henry said.

Charlie shrugged. "We do what we've got to do. I don't want her working, but I don't get paid enough for us to have food and a roof over our heads."

Henry shook his head in disbelief. True, he wasn't as well off as some, but he did make enough to put food on the table and have a roof over his head. He was able to provide for his family. His son was able to go to school and his wife didn't need to work. He knew a bit about the conditions that the poor lived in from what Amelia had told him, but it seemed so much more real when he learnt of Charlie living like this.

"Well I better get going." Charlie said, breaking the silence, leaving his place at the counter. "Thank you for the food." He slipped out of the shop door to the tinkle of the bell.

"Who was that?" Timothy asked entering the room from the back staircase.

"Just he delivery boy." Henry now returned to his work. He continued in silence as Timothy left for school. Henry pondered over Charlie's situation. The boy's lively hood was temperamental. If he or his sister didn't work, they wouldn't be able to survive. Henry wished he could do something, but a bit of food was all he was able to do. He sighed; at least he did a little something.

The day dragged on for what felt like an endless age. Henry was on repetition of making corsages, occasionally pricking his finger on his needle. Amelia only appeared to deliver him his lunch and a few cups of tea. Eventually Timothy came home, not even greeting his father as he climbed the stairs to the main apartment.

Just as the sun disappeared from the sky Henry sighed in relief as he finished sewing the last flower onto the last corsage. He had completed his order and would be able to continue putting food on the table, which no doubt his wife was setting at that moment, preparing for dinner.

He walked up the stairs and joined his family for they're evening meal. It was a nice stew that had been cooking slowly all afternoon. It was absolutely divine and was the perfect way to celebrate the completion of an order.

Soon after the family retired to they're own rooms and Henry fell into a swift and deep sleep.