Look, Winnifred didn't like her mother-in-law, but she liked to keep the peace. The old Mrs. Dawson did have it rough, with her husband gone and three of her four children living far away. Could she be blamed for being overinvolved in Hugo's life?

Yes. Yes, she absolutely could.

But Hugo didn't see it that way. So here his wife was, keeping the peace. 

The old widow's birthday was coming up, and Winnie was determined to make a good impression and get the old witch off her case. (The drawing room wasn't dusted often enough. The front step looked unpolished. The meat was overcooked. What brand of tea did she buy? Fortnum? Oh no, Fortnum was no good. She should buy Jacksons. How much did she pay the maids? Oh, no reason, just a question. What? She was overpaying the maids. That dress was rather out of date. Hugo should be more attentive to her and give her a bigger allowance. Never worry, mother would talk to him!)

Jet jewelry would do. Old Mrs. Dawson had never come out of mourning, and it matched the colour of her heart. 

Winnie mentally corrected herself as she stepped into one of Whitby's many jet shops. Kind thoughts now. For Hugo's sake.

Christana was busy in her shop working on shaping a new  piece of jewellery when a woman came into the shop. Of course Christana  stopped her work to smile and give a warm greeting.


“Hello there welcome to to Porter Whitby jet shop.” Chrisana welcome cheery 


She stepped out fromm behind the counter.


“We have different kinds of jewelry  in this jet shop. We have brooches, necklaces, earring and special ornaments.”


The ornaments were special and rare she rarely made them.

Winnifred wrinkled her nose at the sight of the young woman at work. Jet turning was no work for a woman, and also, she wished it happened elsewhere. The thought of what dust such work created, what dust there had to be in the air, what dust she might get on her person and bring back into her perfectly clean house... It almost made her turn on the spot.

Unfortunately the woman had already seen her and greeted her, and courtesy forced Winnie to straighten her face and approach the dual horror of dust and unwomanly ways.

"Good afternoon. I'm looking for a gift for my mother-in-law. Might I have a look at your brooches?" Involuntarily, her eyes moved back to the machinery and the half finished ornament the woman had been working on and she decided that this was even worse than the fishwives gathering bait with their skirts hoisted halfway up their knees. Worse than ankles!