Where passions lie, ideas blossom

Title – Where passions lie, ideas blossom.

The floorboards creek as the young Harry Butcher fumbles his way around the bedroom on a dark winter’s morning in the outskirts of Birmingham, November 1860. Harry tried intently not to wake his beloved wife from her restful slumber. He rubs his hands together then brings them to his mouth and blows warm air from deep within his lungs, before striking a match and igniting the candlestick on his bedside table. While shaking out the match, his hand connects with a book, knocking it to the floor with a thud.

“What’s going on darling. Why are you up so early? You’ll wake Mr. Williams downstairs.” Mrs. Butcher’s pale soft skin glows in the flicker of the light, her face appearing from between her homemade woolen night hat and thick grey duvet.

“Go back to sleep love, I must get to the butchery before they open and help my father.” Mr. Butcher leans over to kiss his wife on the forehead and tucked the duvet tightly under her chin.

“But you don’t work there anymore, you can’t do both jobs. You must not be late for Mr. Cadbury.” Mrs. Butcher shuffles up onto her elbows and frowns at her husband.

“I know love but I offered to help today because they are very busy. I won’t be late to work.” Picking up the candle holder Mr. Butcher leaves the bedroom clutching his coat together, trapping his body heat from escaping in the draughty corridor.

Mrs. Butcher whispers after him. “But he needs to replace you, he won’t if you keep helping.” With a huff, she flops back down and tugs the duvet over her head.

Harry gently closes the front door to the boarding house behind him, the sound of crunching snow beneath his boots sparks a smile across his face as he eagerly jumps down the 2 front steps. It’s usually a 5-minute walk to the butcher shop, but this morning, with a little skip in his step, Harry arrives within 4 minutes.

In the gutter outside the snow was black and noticeably dirtier than the rest of the street. Stepping inside a bell jangles above the door, at the same time a strong odour of raw flesh hits his nostrils and whirls around his lungs with a cold sense of death. He brings his sleeve to his nose as he eyeballs the carcasses of pigs and pheasants, swaying from the ceiling on sharply tipped hooks.

“Urgh, I don’t miss this stench.” He mutters to himself.

A loud familiar husky voice startles Harry as he closes the door behind him. “Harry boy, what are you doing here. Have you forgotten you abandoned us?”

“Hello father, hello brother.” Harry sheepishly steps up to the counter as though he were an unwelcome customer who has arrived too early.

“I didn’t abandon you father. You know why I moved to the chocolate maker. It’s a better fit for me.”

Harry’s father is laying portions of freshly cut meat in the display window and talks through the glass without making eye contact.

“Yes, that’s right, a better fit for your soft nature, soft chocolate for a soft man. That’s you.” Harry’s brother laughs loudly at their fathers’ taunts.

Harry looks down at his father’s muscular blood-stained hands before sliding his own hands in the pockets of his coat, out of sight. He turns to James.

“Oh shush you James. Are you going to tell me neither of you would eat the chocolate if I gave it to you for Christmas? Anyway. That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about. It’s valentine’s day tomorrow, and I want to get Bethany something that I need the last of my wages for. Please can I have it Father?”

“Ha. More soft talk from my squidgy son. What is it you’re getting? Fluffy Yellow undergarments for your fluffy wife.” Harry’s father was squashing a piece of pork flesh between his fingers as he ridiculed Harry and laughed along with his other son James.

“Don’t you bring Bethany into this. You keep her name out of your mouth if you’re going to be vulgar.” Harry’s voice was shaky, his face flushed red.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry. Calm down milky boy, your face is the colour of this mincemeat. You’ll give yourself an untimely heart attack. I will get your money. But don’t you think you can come crawling back here the moment you realise what you’ve given up. You’ve come from a long line of butchers and should be lucky to carry the name. It’s a good living and you’re throwing it away. I hope that chocolate man can pay your rent.” Mr. Butcher disappeared for a minute, leaving the two brothers ignoring each other as they waited.

Harry takes the coins from his father’s hand noticing his thick rough skin against his, before leaving the shop without saying another word. Outside he strides away hard and fast, staring at the snow-covered ground, his coat flapping in the cold wind.

The morning sun has begun to cast shadows from the rows of houses and bare trees, the sky is clear giving a bright blue backdrop over the dark red and brown brick. After a short but brisk walk toward the town center, Harry turns into a florist on his way. This time a higher-pitched bell jingles above the door which snaps Harry out of his thoughts.

“Good morning Harry. You’re up early. How can I help you dear?” Mrs. Parkin the florist was always so kind to Harry. She took pity on him after his mother passed away when the boys were young, knowing how harmless Harry was, but how harsh his father could be.

“Good morning Mrs. Parkin. I came in last week and asked your Sarah if she could weave me a basket in the shape of a heart.”

“Oh yes Harry, that was for you.” Mrs. Parkin gave a warm smile as she offered the uniquely shaped hand weaved basket from behind a display of large bouquets exhibiting more colours than Harry knew existed.

Harry glances at the price tags on the bouquets, each one costs 10 x more than his small basket.  He took the basket with both hands before tucking it under one arm and reaching into his tatty trouser pocket for the coins he had just collected. Mrs. Parkin put one hand on his shoulder and reached down to stop Harry from pulling his coins out. He looked at her with bewilderment and froze for a moment of silence between them. Mrs. Parkins smiles and nods her head.  

“Oh thank you Mrs. Parkin. Thank you so much. That is most kind. I am sure I can get some chocolate from my new work to fill it. They always keep a few bars for the workers to purchase at half price. I’ll ask Mr. Cadbury.”

Harry bounds down the road once more, much further into the center and away from his dingy neighbourhood. Arriving on the High Street he stops outside a grand shop front, with swept stone slabs and stained-glass windows with a dusting of fresh snow on the sills. He composes himself, pocketing his hat and straightening his hair before entering.

“Good morning Mr. Cadbury, good morning Mr. Giles. Are you both well?” The sweet and bitter aroma of cocoa butter, sugar, and milk powder was a welcome scent and a reminder of what Harry had left behind. A small fire crackles to one side of the shop. On the opposite side of the room, away from the heat, was a floor-to-ceiling display of chocolate bars and chocolate-making equipment as well as porcelain cow figurines at either end of each shelf.

“Good morning Mr. Butcher. Welcome back for another wonderful day of chocolate fun.”

Harry’s shoulders relaxed as his spirits lifted with the personal reception from his new boss. He hangs his coat behind the counter and approaches Mr. Cadbury with his empty basket cradled in one arm.

“Excuse me Mr. Cadbury, I was hoping that It would be ok to purchase some chocolates for my wife for valentine’s day. I don’t need advance, I have the money.”

“Why of course.” Mr. Cadbury replies, looking over the top of his spectacles at Harry. “What’s that you have there?”

“Oh, this is a basket I got from Mrs. Parkin, the florist down the way. I ordered it shaped like a heart and I want to fill it with chocolate on a bed of holly I’ll get from the park later. It’s a gift for my Bethany. For Valentines.”

Mr. Cadbury gently takes the basket from Harry, examining every inch of it through his glasses as he turns it every which way.

“That’s a splendid idea. Holly you say, what a thoughtful young man you are.” He pauses for a moment and stares across at his display of square chocolate boxes and cylindrical tins in the window. “Mr. Giles” He exclaims. “I have an idea.”

Later that evening Harry comes bursting through his front door, startling Bethany as she lays the table for dinner.

“Bloody hell Harry, you scared the life out of me. Be careful with that door.”

Harry pants, while trying to speak. He holds up his gift with a grin from ear to ear.

“Bethany, this is for you. It’s for valentine’s day. But you….” Bethany cuts him off.

“But valentine’s day is tomorrow! You’re early.” She giggles, taking the basket in her hands. “It’s beautiful Harry, thank you.”

“No wait.” Harry continues his story. “That’s not even the best part. I showed my basket to Mr. Cadbury to fill with chocolate and he….”

Bethany cuts him off once again. “You mean you demanded chocolate from your new boss? You’ve not been there 2 weeks and you're making demands. You want to be careful…”

“No Bethany, wait a minute, let me speak. I got the basket from Mrs. Parkin and explained to Mr. Cadbury that I wanted to purchase the chocolate to fill it for you. He was so impressed by the idea, we spent all day talking about how we could turn this into a new idea for the business. Mr. Giles’s made some drawings, and we designed a new chocolate box in the shape of a heart, which will only ever be sold once a year on valentines. The box will be filled with only the sweetest chocolates.”

“That’s amazing Harry. It sounds like you are getting along just fine.” Bethany puts down the basket and throws her arms around her husband and squeezes tightly.

“And that’s not all.” Harry continues. “Mr. Cadbury was so impressed with my basket idea that he has appointed me a new role of creative thinker.”

“Creative thinker. What’s that? Sounds made up.” Bethany plucks and prods at the basket with delicate touches.

“It means I get to spend all day coming up with new ways to help sell the chocolates. It means I will have a job for as long as I can come up with ideas, and you know I always have ideas.”

Harry and Bethany spent that night, and every night that week sharing ideas over dinner about new and unusual ways to sell chocolate. Day after day Harry impressed Mr. Cadbury with his new designs and elaborate ideas. Over the next six months, Harry got paid as much as he had in the previous 3 years working for his father.

It had been 4 months now since Harry had stepped foot in the butchery, having only briefly encountered his father and brother on occasion when passing in the street, so he decided to make a visit.

Turning the brass handle to the butchery with a deep breath the familiar jangle from the bell sent a shiver down Harry’s spine, tensing his body he stepped inside. He wondered for a moment what was different until he realised the stench was much fainter than he remembered. He glanced around, noticing the windows were open and the floor had been cleaned. Harry stood in silence waiting for his father to appear.

“Harry boy.” Mr. Butcher came out from the rear, wiping his hands on his apron while looking up and down at Harry’s clean new clothes. He glances between the large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a shiny tin in the other.

“Well, I guess there’s money in chocolate then. You’re looking well son.” He announces croakily before clearing his throat.

Harry’s face relaxed instantly; his lips slightly open as a faint grin tries to breakthrough. He quickly stopped himself from showing the pleasure in hearing his fathers’ compliments, fearing a meat clever may be about to follow hurtling through the air in his direction.

“No, I mean it Harry. I’m pleased to see it. Look at those new shoes you’ve got there. I’m glad it worked out alright boy.” Mr. Butcher reassures Harry.

“Looks good in here too father, you’ve been tidying.” Harry remarks.

At that moment James appears from the back room and bursts into laughter.

“What’s this then, chocolate boy been dressed by his boss to look pretty for him? Given him flowers and all, must fancy our Harry.” James laughs loudly until his voice is smacked from his mouth by a hard whip of his fathers' blood-soaked cloth across his ear.

“Have some respect boy. Proved us wrong, didn’t he?” Mr. Butcher looks back at Harry and firmly nods his head with approval.

With James rubbing his face Harry steps up to the counter and places the tin of assorted chocolates on the counter.

“Here you are both, from me to you. The flowers are for Beth.” He pauses a moment. “I thought maybe you might like to come around for dinner this Saturday. See the new place. Beth and I would like that.”

Mr. Butcher snaps a look at James to stop him from what he was about to say, then looks back at Harry. “Yes Harry, we will be glad to come.”

Harry lets his smile break free and his shoulders relax, a feeling of pride overwhelms him which he had not felt for a very long time.

“Brilliant.” Harry replies. “Brilliant.”