Inside Nash Grocery Store, Dolly was taking yesterday’s unsold, expired newspapers from the newspaper boy.
These expired papers were usually worthless—you could get a thick stack for very little money.
They were perfect for pasting into paper bags to use as the outermost layer of packaging.
After counting them, she handed the newspaper boy two farthings: “Give me a copy of today’s The Times as well.”
Taking the newspaper from the boy, Dolly lowered her head to read.
With just a glance, she spotted the front-page headline.
It was the Tower Bridge murder case. As time passed, the media outside was paying increasing attention to the case.
Without reading further, she set the paper aside just as a familiar customer walked in through the door.
It was the owner of Joel’s Coffee Shop on Dorothy Street.
Mr. Joel stood outside, closing his umbrella, his gaze carrying a hint of disdain as he surveyed the cramped little shop.
Although he also ran a cheap coffee shop in the impoverished East End area like Dorothy Street, his coffee shop netted fifty Pounds Sterling a month, and he considered himself solidly middle-class.
He lived in a terraced apartment in Bloomsbury, and his daily necessities were all bought from large department stores in the West End.
Or, he shopped at Piero Grocery Store on Jude Road.
A small grocery store like this one was usually only frequented by workers and people living nearby.
Joel didn’t want to be seen here.
But Dolly greeted him quite naturally: “What can I get for you, Mr. Joel?”
Joel stepped inside, looking around. His eyes fixed on a plate of Biscuits placed on the narrow counter in front of him.
“I’m here to buy some Diamond Cookies, that’s the name, right?”
Dolly nodded, picking up the plate from the counter.
“That’s the one. You can try a sample first.”
Mr. Joel looked at them. These were exactly the same kind of biscuits Fred had shared with them in the back kitchen that morning.
Triangular in shape, somewhat thick, with a crumbly, soft, and savory texture, coated in coarse sugar on the surface that resembled crushed diamonds—hence the name Diamond Cookies.
Because he’d never seen anything like them, he had tried one. After tasting it, he couldn’t stop thinking about it all morning. The flavor was truly unforgettable.
These biscuits were definitely not factory-made goods from the market, and no nearby pastry shops sold this variety. They must have been made by the Nash family themselves.
He wanted to buy some to study how they were made. If he could figure out the recipe and sell them in his coffee shop, that would be perfect.
As an experienced businessman, one taste told him that biscuits with this texture paired with coffee would definitely be popular.
However, this purpose made him feel somewhat inexplicably uneasy.
Here he was, a fairly established business owner, having to come to a place like this to secretly learn the ropes.
Joel nodded with a composed expression, opening his wallet: “No need for a sample. How much per pound?”
“They’re not sold by the pound. Seven pence a bag.”
Dolly brought over a freshly wrapped bag of cookies and placed it on the scale to show him.
Mr. Joel didn’t care about a few pence. Looking at the bag, which didn’t seem to contain much, he said:
“I’ll take four bags.”
“Are these made by your family?”
“Yes,” Dolly replied.
She wasn’t blind to Joel’s demeanor; she could tell at a glance what he was scheming.
But this wasn’t some television drama where you could just replicate something perfectly on a whim.
Every step in baking, from material selection to proportions, processing techniques, and baking time, is a matter of being off by a thousand miles due to a slight error.
By the time he managed to produce similar biscuits, Dolly dared say she would have already updated and iterated on her own.
Once imitators fall into the trap of imitation, they will forever be left trailing behind her.
Dolly quickly bundled four packs of biscuits together, tied them with hemp rope, and handed them over.
“I recommend brewing a cup of hot cocoa to pair with these biscuits. The flavor is absolutely exquisite.”
Joel was quite disdainful of the cramped space, feeling it was not a place he should linger in, but he maintained his composure nonetheless.
“Then give me a jar.”
Dolly smiled and nodded politely, then went to the counter to fetch a jar of Cocoa Powder that wasn’t from the latest batch.
After paying fifty pence, he left carrying an old newspaper bag.
In the kitchen, Mary was still baking these cookies. With the small oven at home, she could produce two pounds of biscuits in an hour.
Starting from last night, Mary had been strictly following the recipe to make them, and by morning, she had already produced six pounds of Diamond Cookies.
Seeing the rain outside, Mary thought business would surely be slower than usual and guessed that baking this much today would already be enough to meet demand.
After she cleaned the tools and warmed goat milk for the two babies at home, the sound of Dolly bustling about came from outside the curtain again.
It had rained in the morning, and now the customers were sparse, so Dolly began tinkering with goods other than food.
She cleared out old stock using discounts, and now Lobit was following her lead, willing to take a loss just to keep up.
Given this, Dolly no longer intended to offer purely discounted items. She wanted to see if Lobit could continue to imitate her.
She planned to tidy up the best-positioned display cabinet to create a three farthings cheap goods section.
For items that could be divided, she used special white paper to package them into small portions, enough for only one or two uses, priced extremely low.
These three farthings items were cheap, with thin profit margins, but they were still profitable—and even more expensive than buying by the pound.
However, most customers didn’t calculate by weight. Even the poorest people on Clark Street could easily afford several three farthings.
It was a bit like how people could buy a pile of items priced at nine ninety-nine but hesitate over something costing a hundred.
Before long, Dolly had tidied up the three best-positioned compartments at the back.
In order, she packaged classifiable foods such as candies, floral tea, dried lemons, Cocoa Powder, coffee powder, and dried fruits into small bags of a few ounces each.
For items like tea leaves and coffee that were prone to moisture, she packaged only enough to sell for a day.
Then, she neatly arranged them in paper boxes and placed the boxes into the cabinet.
She also wrote a list for the three farthings section, intending to post it on the counter so customers could see and choose as soon as they entered.
After spending over an hour dividing and packaging everything, a few customers walked in together, asking to buy Diamond Cookies.
These people were part-time workers hired by a small restaurant.
Their shift ran from five in the morning to ten in the morning, serving the busiest breakfast crowd, and they were now off duty.
Without a doubt, this group had also tried the samples in the morning and came specifically for these Diamond Cookies, which resembled French pastries.
However, after Dolly told them the prices, some gave up awkwardly, some hesitated, others felt for their purses, and some even tried to haggle.
For a moment, the whole room was bustling with noise.
Dolly remained unflustered, generously handing each of them a sample piece to try. Clearing her throat, she continued:
“Besides Diamond Cookies, there are two other types of biscuits: plain sweet hard biscuits at seven pence per pound, and cocoa-flavored honey biscuits at ten pence per pound. These are also newly stocked and perfect for afternoon tea.”
She handed the catalog of the three-farthings section to the people in front of her, pointing to the tea and snacks area.
“Lemon slices, cinnamon powder, and Cocoa Powder are also three farthings per bag, enough for one serving.”
As she spoke, someone inquired about the floral teas. Dolly randomly opened a sample bag of osmanthus Assam and a bag of Darjeeling rose tea, handing them over for a sniff.
The tea leaves, having been scented overnight, carried a faint floral fragrance that was clearly detectable.
These restaurant workers, who usually only drank tea dregs, saw that the tea in the bags consisted of proper leaves with visible strands—not just dregs—and contained no added dyes. Each bag was enough for a large pot or two small cups, with floral notes and scattered dried fruit pieces. They immediately felt it was a great deal.
Splurging on slightly more expensive biscuits didn’t seem like much now.
Under Dolly’s calm and steady Shopping Guide, the group lined up, each selecting what they wanted.
“I’ll take a bag of Diamond Cookies, a bag of Darjeeling tea, a bag of Cocoa Powder, and some lemon slices,” said the first in line, a dishwasher in a blue dress.
She was already imagining returning home, sipping rose-scented black tea with a plate of uniquely flavored Diamond Cookies—all for less than ten pence.
This was something she couldn’t enjoy at a proper dessert shop.
Dolly acknowledged her, picking up an old newspaper bag and filling it with various pre-packaged small bags as if dispensing medicine.
“That’ll be nine pence and one farthing. How about adding a bag of raisins for free if you spend ten pence? You could also choose another three-farthings item—I recommend cinnamon powder. It can be brewed with Cocoa Powder. I hear it’s all the rage in Paris.”
The customer nodded without hesitation, so Dolly added a bag of cinnamon powder and raisins to the bag.
Most of the others in line made similar choices, with each person spending over fifteen pence.
Regardless of origin, the floral tea was packaged in eleven-gram bags, with one pound divided into forty bags. Each bag sold for three farthings, totaling thirty pence—over a dozen pence more profitable than selling a whole pound at once.
The weights of other powdered goods varied. Dolly had brewed and tasted each beforehand, packaging them according to the most balanced flavor concentration.
For example, Cocoa Powder, which cost twenty pence per pound wholesale, originally sold for twenty-two pence per full jar. Now, each pound was divided into forty-five bags, selling for thirty-three pence in total. Even accounting for the cost of the brand-new white packaging paper, the profit still reached ten pence.
Though three farthings seemed trivial, this was actually the most profitable sales method.
After serving this batch of customers, the total sales amounted to one hundred and five pence.
While it didn’t seem like much, because the customers received smaller quantities of goods, the net profit was twice the usual twenty-five percent.
That is to say, out of one hundred and five pence, she could easily earn half.
Dolly thought to herself, this method was much more difficult than simply offering discounts.
Everything from pricing and portion sizes to product quality had to be perfectly balanced.
It had to be flawless, making customers willing to spend their money without hesitation.
However, this approach was only suitable for items that were slightly expensive for the target customers.
It was perfect for low-income individuals who occasionally wanted to reward themselves.
As for everyday household goods like rice, flour, grains, and oil, they were still sold using promotional methods to rely on high volume and low margins.
If she tried to play tricks with these essential goods and got caught by the Inspector, it wouldn’t end well.
Having been in business for two lifetimes, her success relied on being a law-abiding citizen, doing her best within the rules.
Locking the small drawer, Dolly turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Author’s note: