Page 131 of The Sisters of Sea View
A few doors ahead, Viola knew, was the Nicholls lace shop. A young woman sat on a little stool out front, bent over the plump pillow on her lap, bobbins moving in her hands, making lace. Glancing up and seeing them, the woman rose and disappeared into the shop. To avoid them, or just a coincidence?
“That’s her daughter, Caroline,” Miss Denby said in an awed voice. “How grown she is.”
“Shall we continue on, or...?”
“I’d just like to look in at the window.”
Viola rolled her in front of the shop, turned the chair to face the bow window, then came around to stand beside her.
Above the window, the wordNICHOLLSwas painted in large, no-nonsense lettering.
Beside the door, a modest trade card announced,
M. & C. Nicholls
Honiton Lace Manufacturer
A choice selection on hand. Prices moderate.
Laces cleaned, repaired, and restored.
Patterns always in stock.
From cords strung behind the glass hung various finished articles of lace for sale. Table centres, dinner mats, collars, fichus, and handkerchiefs edged in queen shell lace and lover’s knots. On the ledge below were arranged smaller articles and dress trimmings, lace borders and ruffles, as well as supplies of thread, pins, bobbins, and patterns.
Viola’s gaze was drawn to an intricate black lace mourning veil with a honeysuckle border, until she reminded herself she was trying to grow accustomed to going without.
Mrs. Denby, on the other hand, stared longingly at a shawl displayed prominently in the center of the window, in pride of place. The antique shawl had an intricate pattern of flowers, leaves, and birds.
Following her gaze, Viola leaned closer to admire the fine details. “It’s beautiful.” She glanced back at Mrs. Denby and saw the woman nod.
“My sister, mother, and I helped to make it. The sprigs, you see? The flowers and leaves and birds?”
“How wonderful to see your work on display.”
She nodded. “Does my heart good, I admit. Takes me back too. I told you how it was. All of us sitting in our cottage, or outside for the light if the weather was fine, working away. Sometimes we chatted, but even if we were silent, their company was pleasure enough, though I didn’t always appreciate it at the time.”
The shop door opened, and a white-haired woman stepped out, pristine apron over black dress, mouth a thin, downturned line.Mary Nicholls. Although the two women were of similar age, she appeared far straighter and stronger.
Mrs. Denby stiffened, then said, “Good day, Mrs. Nicholls.”
“Jane.”
“I was just showing my young friend here your excellent collection. You always did have the best patterns.”
The woman in black gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you. We have not seen you in an age.”
“I don’t get out much these days.”
Viola was tempted to say,“She lives just up the road. You could visit her anytime.”But she held her tongue.
Mrs. Nicholls said, “It’s good to see you.”
Mrs. Denby blinked in apparent surprise. “And you.”
“There are not many of us left from the old days.”
“True.” Mrs. Denby managed a weak smile. “Well. Good-bye.”
