Behind the veil

Chapter 2

A young woman rocked back and forth gently as she connected the old fabric with her sewing needle, humming a lullaby from her childhood as she prepared her small home for the new child that would join her small family soon. In and out, in and out her small needle went, glinting proudly in the sunshine's glow. Clothes, blankets,etc had been made in preparation for the awaited day , even if they were made from old clothes of her already existing children: a boy and a girl.

"Come on Tommy, you need 'o finish these last few questions and then you're free, ok?" A young man called to his son as he tried to keep him still, his strong, warm sienna-tanned arms wrapping around a young ivory skinned boy who could be no more than 4 years old.

"But I'm bored" whined the young boy, " I wanna go play!"

The young woman sighed with a warm smile gracing her worn face, " Let the boy be, William, he's only four."

"Fine Anne, but 'e's picking up on this la'er" William replied with a small hint of reluctance at his son getting to play after only 1 hour of learning.

Tommy let out a shriek of glee as he ran off toward the front door to play on the wind-swept, cracked-stone front step with a bunch of twig and leaves he found by the water pump on his street, Chancery Lane.

"Ma I'm 'ome!" cried out a young lady with thick, wavy dark golden brown hair that came down to her waist as she trudged tiredly through the back door to the small home.

"Welcome home love, how was the market?" Anne asked her oldest child, Eliza after seeing her drop a heavy bag of flour in the corner of the fire-warmed stone floor: obviously relieved to rid herself of the heavy bag she had been lugging on her back on her way home from the market.

"It was fine Ma, Farmer Collins said that he should 'ave some eggs by Saturday's market so I'll 'ave to get them then, that ok?'' replied Eliza with a small smile at her brother's childish antics on the front step.

"Of course it is Hun, thank you for getting the flour." replied her mother as she carried on darning an infant's nightgown while turning to her husband, "Will, could you put that flour in the scullery please?"

"Yes dear" Eliza's father chirped back while crying out his wife's request.

Eliza had eyes as blue as sapphires, pale, full, peach lips and long eyelashes. A thin scar lay diagonally across her right eyebrow from an accident from her earlier years that seemingly complimented her honey glow skin. Her brown hair cascaded gracefully down to her slim waist, framing her face and hiding her slightly muscled arms.

She wore an old, patched dress that looked as if it had been put to good use as it contained stains and dirt and baking remnants alike. Her shoes were simple boots with worn heels and cracked patterns by the heels and toes.

"Hun, do you reckon you could make a start on the dough for today while me and your brother start opening up the shop to customers?" Her mother asked with a tired sigh; her stomach bulging out as she arched her spine to help her get out of her rocking chair, already taking her breath away from the effort of being active in her last few days of her third pregnancy.

"Of cou-Argh!" cried out Eliza as her younger brother ran past her, accidentally knocking her into the corner of a stained, wooden table, most likely leaving a bruise as a reminder of this. "Tom watch where you're going will ya? We can't have you being like this when the babe comes!"

"Sorry Liz!" squealed tommy as he ran into the front of the shop to start opening up causing Eliza and her mother to chuckle at him while going to separate areas to start opening the shop or making dough.

Eliza Baker had been doing this same routine since she was six: wake up, get washed and dressed, go to the market (though she used to go to just keep her father company while he bought the week's stock) and start making the dough for the day's customers. This routine was hard to start with but she was determined to help, especially when she found out she was going to have a younger sibling who came out after strenuous months, but now her mother was having another child and it scared her. Anne's body was becoming weaker as the days crawled by, each pregnancy making her worse and it scared Liz into believing that if this were to continue, she would lose her kind, caring mother and have to help her father raise a 4 year old terror and a newly born baby.

Ball after ball of dough was rolled and set into the shape of loaves of bread, small or medium puff or shortcrust pastries. Cookies in shapes of stars, animals, circles, etc were placed on tray after tray and put into the oven. Frosting and icing were already made and prepared to put on the sweet treats when they were ready; small amounts of flour were sprinkled onto freshly made loaves and put on display alongside the cakes and other delicacies that were just taken out of the oven by her father when she walked in.

Pinks, yellows, goldens, browns and all other decorated foods brightened the small bakery and attracted passer-bys to purchase the marzipans and buns, etc for snacks or to serve at the evenings dinner party. Another batch was taken out of the oven and some more went in, a tedious routine Liz was more than used to by now, smiling and greeting customers that walked in when she walked the latest batch to the front of house for her mother to sell with a warm smile and polite courtesies in an attempt to further satisfy the customers and give them a greater chance of returning to buy more.

Some faces were familiar by now but there were always the few that were new to the bakery and seemed intrigued or even just hungry as they went on about their days but couldn't resist the smell of fresh goods or the sight of perfectly cooked and decorated food.

Ding.

And here comes some more.