Celebrations at the Toffee Factory

Book 0: The Toffee Factory Trilogy

by Glenda Young

Genres: Sagas; Historical Romance; Family Life

Synopsis

'Real sagas with female characters right at the heart' WOMAN'S HOUR

'Glenda Young brings a new freshness to the genre' MY WEEKLY

'Saga fiction at its best . . . I enjoyed it immensely' VICKI BEEBY

'A lovely read, full of highs, lows, friendship and foes' JOHANNA BELL

Discover the gripping conclusion to Glenda Young's Toffee Factory trilogy, set in a WWI toffee factory in the North-East!

World War One might be over, but Elsie, Hetty and Anne still have more than their fair share of drama, romance and secrets to contend with . . .

Praise for Glenda Young:

'A gripping saga' People's Friend

'Using her local knowledge and her eye for human frailty, Young creates a believable and richly detailed world in this emotive story full of hardship, kinship and resilience, and with a memorable cast of beautifully drawn characters' Lancashire Evening Post

'Will resonate with saga readers everywhere . . . a wonderful, uplifting story' Nancy Revell

'I really enjoyed . . . It's well researched and well written and I found myself caring about her characters' Rosie Goodwin

'All the ingredients for a perfect saga' Emma Hornby

'Glenda has an exceptionally keen eye for domestic detail which brings this local community to vivid, colourful life' Jenny Holmes

'The feel of the story is totally authentic . . . Her heroine in the grand Cookson tradition . . . Inspirationally delightful' Peterborough Evening Telegraph

Readers are hooked by Glenda's Toffee Factory trilogy!

'As always Glenda Young's books hold your interest from the first to the last page.
If I have one grumble it's that the books seem all too short as I never want them to end!' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'A delightful book filled with laughter, sadness, and numerous ups and downs' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'I loved this and didn't want it to end. The story was compelling and there were moments of happiness, sadness and joy too' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'I couldn't put the book down and have done nothing else but read all day - thank you Glenda' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'You can't not fall in love with the characters in this book! I absolutely loved it!' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Love Glenda's sagas? Don't miss her cosy crime mystery series starring Helen Dexter and her trusty greyhound Suki. Murder at the Seaview Hotel, Curtain Call at the Seaview Hotel, Foul Play at the Seaview Hotel and Deadly Dancing at the Seaview Hotel are all out now!

Release date: February 26, 2026

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 368

Sample

Spring 1919

The morning was warm and bright as two young women walked to work at Jack’s toffee factory in the market town of Chester-le-Street. Both girls were dressed in khaki and red overalls. Dark-haired Elsie and her friend Hetty linked arms as they turned into Market Lane. However, Elsie’s heart grew heavy as the factory came into sight, her pretty face clouding over.

‘Have you heard the rumours?’ she asked. ‘Some of the girls say we might be laid off now the men are returning from war. Aunt Jean’s already lost her job in London. She was driving trams when she first moved there with Alfie. Now she’s stuck at home cleaning and cooking while Alfie goes out to work. Her last letter to me said she was bored stiff after the excitement of working on the trams. She misses her friends at work too. And did I tell you what happened to my friend Laurel and the other girls at the munitions factory?’

Hetty shook her head.

‘They were sacked as soon as the Armistice was declared. On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, all the girls were told to leave. Just like that, no wages, nothing. They were forced out of the factory and haven’t worked since. Laurel’s rattling around the house now, cooking and cleaning for her brothers and her dad who work down the pit. Doesn’t seem fair if you ask me. Why can’t we stay in our jobs now that war’s over?’

‘The men have to get their jobs back. It’s the way things are,’ Hetty said, resigned.

‘It’s not like you to be so defeatist, Hetty Lawson. Where’s your fighting spirit gone?’

‘I’ve got a lot on my mind,’ Hetty huffed.

Elsie pulled her friend closer and began to speak in a whisper. ‘Some say the men who’ve returned from war aren’t all there.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘They’ve seen too much; it’s destroyed their minds.’

Hetty pushed a stray lock of fair hair behind her ear. ‘At least they’re home. A lot won’t be coming back.’

Elsie dropped her gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Hetty. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to upset you over Dan.’

They walked in silence for a few moments, both thinking about Hetty’s half-brother, who had been killed in action.

‘I daren’t think what might happen if I lose this job,’ Hetty said at last.

Elsie shot her a worried look. ‘Me neither. I’m skint.’ She could feel Hetty’s eyes burning into her and had a feeling she knew what was coming next. She wasn’t wrong.

‘You wouldn’t think about doing . . . you know, what you did before, would you?’ Hetty asked nervously.

Elsie shook her head. ‘No way. Walking the streets, selling my body to any Jack, Tom or Bobby? No, I learned the hard way how dangerous that was, even if the money was good. Don’t worry, I’ll never go back to that. But you’re one of the lucky ones, why should you worry about money? You’ve got two jobs.’

Hetty gave a wry smile. ‘Working in the kitchen at Lumley Castle doesn’t pay as much as my job at the toffee factory. And I need to earn as much as I can so that I can look after Hilda. You know how much the doctor’s bills are, and there’s the medicine she needs. It costs a small fortune.’

Elsie laid her head on Hetty’s shoulder as they walked. ‘I’ll help as much as I can. It’s the least I can do after you and your mum took me in.’

‘Hilda’s not my mum, remember,’ Hetty said sharply.

Elsie bit her tongue. ‘Sorry, love. Sometimes the word slips out when I’m not thinking. It happens to you too; I’ve heard you call her Mum now and then. But look, it was months ago that you found out the truth about her. You’re not still angry, are you?’

Hetty slowed her pace and turned to face her friend. ‘It seems I’m angry a lot lately. It’s stress caused by worry.’ She nodded towards the iron gates of the factory, where young girls and women were streaming through. ‘If we lose our jobs when the soldiers come home, I might lose the house if I can’t pay the rent. Hilda’s still poorly and needs looking after. And then there’s . . .’

‘Man trouble?’ Elsie grimaced.

Hetty nodded and gave a small smile. ‘Man trouble indeed. Oh, Elsie, I don’t know what to do. Dirk says he loves me, but he’s leaving to return to Belgium soon. And now Bob’s on his way back from war, and in his last letter he said he’s going to propose to me the minute he sees me. One minute I think my future should be here, safe with Bob—’

‘Safe but dull,’ Elsie chipped in.

Hetty let the comment slide. ‘And the next minute I can’t bear to think of life without Dirk. But he has to go home, and I can hardly go with him.’

Elsie looked at Hetty with her big brown eyes. ‘If I were you, I’d go.’

‘To Belgium? Don’t be daft. A girl like me doesn’t leave Chester-le-Street. Anyway, if I went, I wouldn’t know anyone!’

‘You’d know Dirk,’ Elsie said gently.

Hetty picked up her stride, dragging Elsie with her as they made their way through the factory gates. ‘I won’t talk about this now,’ she said sternly.

‘You started it,’ Elsie sulked.

‘I did not,’ Hetty replied.

‘Did so,’ Elsie said with a smile.

Hetty looked at her and the pair of them burst into giggles.

‘Have you seen anything of Anne lately?’ Hetty asked once they’d stopping laughing.

‘No, I haven’t,’ Elsie replied. ‘You know what things are like since she married Mr Jack and had her baby. We hardly see her outside of work any more. Do you ever wonder what she sees in him?’

An image of Mr Jack popped into Hetty’s mind, and she tried to suppress a smile. He was a short man, much shorter than Anne, and the pair of them looked quite comical when they walked around the factory together.

‘What does she see in him? You mean apart from him idolising her and being the head of a toffee empire, with enough money to fulfil her heart’s desire? Not to mention the big house he provides for her to live in, the gorgeous little girl they have at home, the housekeeper who cooks and cleans, the garden Anne sits in on a sunny day . . . Need I go on? The last time I saw her, she said she’d asked Mr Jack to teach her how to drive his car.’

Elsie’s eyes opened wide with surprise. ‘No!’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen a woman driving in Chester-le-Street before. Do you think he really will teach her?’

‘I don’t think he’ll have a choice,’ Hetty replied. ‘You know what Anne’s like; when she wants something, she gets it.’

She nodded towards the long, low buildings that made up the toffee factory. Ahead of them was a tall, thin chimney belching smoke into the air. It loomed high above the railway lines that ran in one direction to Scotland and in the other to London. The logo of Jack’s toffee factory was painted high on the chimney for the hundreds of train passengers to see.

‘Come on, let’s get to work. We don’t want a ticking-off from Mrs Perkins for being late.’

They headed towards the slab room, where they worked cutting warm, freshly made toffee into delicious bite-sized pieces. From the slab room the toffees were sent to the wrapping room, where every single toffee was wrapped by hand. And each wrapper had to display the Jack’s logo perfectly straight. Before they reached the slab-room door, however, a thickset man appeared pushing a wheelbarrow. It was Stan Chapman, the gardener. He had hands like shovels, a broad chest and strong arms. His face was open and honest, weather beaten and ruddy from years spent outdoors doing the job he adored. His thick brown hair was hidden under his flat cap and his hazel eyes lit up when he saw Elsie.

‘Morning, Elsie!’ he called.

Hetty tried to peel away, but Elsie held her tight.

‘There’s your fella, I’ll let you go and speak to him,’ Hetty said.

‘He’s not my fella,’ Elsie hissed.

‘I thought you liked him?’ Hetty whispered.

There wasn’t time for Elsie to reply, as Stan walked up to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. She kept tight hold of Hetty’s arm, not allowing her to enter the slab room without her.

‘Morning, Stan,’ she said coolly.

Stan nodded at the wheelbarrow. ‘It’s a big day for me and my team,’ he said proudly. ‘We’re finally putting back the flower beds and digging up the vegetables. It’s been a long time without flowers during the war. Now it’s time to get the factory garden back to the way it once was.’ He raised his cap to Elsie. ‘Could I take you out for tea one night? Perhaps tonight after work?’

Elsie bit her lip. ‘Not sure I can, Stan. I’ve got things to do.’

‘Another time, then,’ he said, and walked off with his wheelbarrow.

Hetty looked askance at her friend. ‘I thought you and Stan were courting these days. Why did you give him the brush-off?’

But Elsie didn’t reply, her attention focused on two strapping men heading into the sugar-boiling room. As they walked, they kept turning to look at her. She undid the top button of her overall and stuck her hand on her hip. One of the men winked at her and she waved in return.

‘Oh, Elsie. Don’t say you’ve started flirting with those fellas again. You’ll get a bad reputation. You’re still a married woman, remember,’ Hetty chided.

Elsie’s face clouded over. ‘As if I could forget. I wish I’d never met Frankie Ireland.’

‘Have you seen him lately?’ Hetty asked.

Elsie shook her head. ‘No, and I don’t want to after what he put me through. I hear things about him from Cathy in the Lambton Arms. She tells me he drinks himself into oblivion most nights then falls down outside the pub. She says if it was up to her she’d leave him there all night, but Jim insists on bringing him indoors. Well, he is his brother. Jim lets him sleep on the pub floor, but he won’t have him upstairs in the family’s living area. He keeps Frankie away from their boys in case he lashes out at them like he did to me.’

‘I’m sorry you went through all of that,’ Hetty said.

Elsie shrugged. ‘It’s water under the bridge now,’ she said with a catch in her voice.

Hetty looked at her. ‘Well, Stan clearly thinks the world of you.’

‘I know he does, and I like him a lot. But I’m scared that if I choose Stan, I might miss out on someone better, more exciting and fun,’ Elsie replied, casting another look at the door of the sugar-boiling room.

‘You’re terrible, Elsie Cooper,’ Hetty laughed.

A mischievous smile played around Elsie’s lips. ‘At least I’d never settle for a dull man, like someone else I could mention,’ she replied, raising her eyebrows and throwing a knowing look at her friend.

‘That’s enough now, Elsie.’ Hetty sighed. ‘Come on or we’ll be late for work.’



Hetty threaded her arm through Elsie’s and they walked into the slab room. From behind them they heard a car engine stutter and knock. The unholy noise was followed by a screech of gears and brakes, and they turned, stunned to see Mr Jack’s gleaming black car jolting and jerking through the iron gates. It shuddered to a halt outside the factory reception. By now the car had attracted a curious crowd.

Jacob, the factory receptionist, came running out to greet Mr Jack. It was the first time Hetty had seen him move at anything more than a snail’s pace. And his face seemed animated too, which was unusual. She had only seen him looking surly and miserable as he worked on his ledgers whenever she called at reception on an errand for their supervisor.

‘Sir, whatever is the problem with your motor?’ he called as he ran to the driver’s side of the car. However, it wasn’t Mr Jack who stepped out from behind the wheel; it was Anne. Hetty watched as Mr Jack slowly unfurled himself from the passenger side, his short legs finally reaching the ground. His normally round and cheerful face was set stern with a worried expression, and he ran a blue linen handkerchief across his bald head, which was covered in perspiration. His trademark bow tie in the same colour blue as the factory logo was skew-whiff.

Anne walked around the car to her husband and straightened his tie. ‘I think I managed to park quite well this time, William,’ she said cheerfully.

William gulped. ‘At least you didn’t hit the gate, dear.’

Hetty noticed a scratch on the front of the car, then watched as Jacob and Mr Jack had a discussion about moving the car to a more appropriate space. It was blocking entry through the gates, and women were having to squeeze past on both sides.

‘Morning, Anne!’ Hetty called.

Anne strode over to the girls. She was dressed in a smart navy jacket with matching skirt and flat shoes. Under her jacket she wore a cream lace blouse and at her neck was a beautiful brooch of blue stones, a present from Mr Jack.

‘How are you both?’ she asked.

Elsie nodded at Hetty. ‘Well, she’s down in the dumps, but I’m all right.’

‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind,’ Hetty snapped. ‘Anyway, she’s flirting with the sugar boilers again.’

Anne tutted. ‘Oh, Elsie. Haven’t you learned your lesson after what happened with Frankie? The sugar boilers are a rough lot, leave them be. Stan’s the man for you. Everyone can see it.’

‘Everyone but her,’ Hetty quipped.

Anne nodded at Elsie’s overall, which strained across her ample bust and revealed more cleavage than the girls were allowed to display. ‘You might want to fasten that button before Mrs Perkins catches you and tells you off. It’s always best to keep on her good side.’

‘She hasn’t got a good side, she’s an old dragon,’ Elsie muttered, doing up the button.

‘She’s not so bad,’ Anne said gently. ‘You just need to get to know her, that’s all.’

Hetty made to leave. ‘See you later, Anne. We really must get to work.’

When Elsie hesitated, Hetty saw that her friend’s gaze was firmly fixed on Anne’s brooch.

‘Elsie, come on,’ she said, gently pulling Elsie into the slab room to begin their day.

Working in the slab room was hard work, physically tiring, and their muscles ached by the end of the day. But it paid well, and for that Hetty was grateful, yet she constantly worried about how much longer her job would last. She forced a smile as she walked into the room. Mrs Perkins, their supervisor, was sitting at her desk in the corner, and Hetty saw her look up before taking a pencil and marking two ticks on her list, confirming, Hetty knew, that she and Elsie had arrived.

Mrs Perkins was middle aged. Despite her title she was a spinster, although there had been rumours that she’d married once and that her husband had left her for reasons unspecified but much gossiped about by the factory girls. She was older than any of the girls at the factory. Her long brown hair was plaited down her back and she always wore the same blue skirt. Hetty found her firm but fair to work for, yet she knew that Elsie had suffered a few run-ins with her, mainly to do with Elsie disappearing to flirt with the men behind the sugar-boiling room. Hetty and Elsie had worked under Mrs Perkins almost continuously since they’d started at the factory. They’d worked in the wrapping room first, twisting waxed papers around toffees. They’d wrapped thousands each day and their fingers had ended up swollen and sore. Then they’d been transferred to the packing room, away from Mrs Perkins and her strict no-talking rule, but now the supervisor had been moved by Mr Jack to the slab room to oversee the levelling and cutting of warm toffee.

As more girls streamed into the vast space, Mrs Perkins kept looking at the door and ticking names off her list. The slab room was noisy, with the sugar boilers carrying large pans of hot, bubbling toffee to the cooling tables where Hetty and Elsie worked. The sugar boilers were all men; no women were allowed in the sugar-boiling room, such were the dangers of working with hot toffee and heavy pans. Lifting the pans required brute force, a strength that not even Mrs Perkins possessed.

As Hetty took up her position on one side of the cooling slab, she looked across at Elsie opposite her. Her friend was a beauty. She had olive skin, dark eyes and thick black hair piled up on her head and wrapped in a khaki turban. She wore heavy make-up, not just for nights out dancing in town but also for work. Her lips were painted scarlet. However, her smouldering looks often got her into trouble, attracting the wrong kind of man. Hetty shuddered at the thought of Elsie’s husband Frankie. He’d once worked as a sugar boiler before he was sacked by Mr Jack for stealing boxes of toffee. Frankie was a violent, evil man whom Elsie had been forced into marrying when she fell pregnant. The worse for drink on their wedding night, he had beaten her so badly that she’d lost the child. Since then, the pair had gone their separate ways, although Frankie had tried to win her back. However, Elsie had stayed strong and was determined not to fall for him again. It had been Stan who’d helped her during that awful time. That was why Hetty couldn’t understand why she was shunning him to flirt with the factory men again. She sighed and shook her head. ‘It’s none of my business,’ she muttered under her breath.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a swish of blue material, and Mrs Perkins appeared.

‘Hands, please, Miss Lawson,’ the supervisor barked.

Hetty held out her hands for Mrs Perkins to inspect. When the woman was satisfied that they were clean enough to work on the cutting device, she moved on to inspect the next girl, then the next.

Around Hetty the slab room rang with noise and chatter. Mrs Perkins couldn’t enforce her no-speaking rule here, as the girls needed to shout instructions about their work to each other to be heard. The room was bustling with sugar boilers coming and going. Some were ex-soldiers who’d already returned from the trenches. The war had brought many problems to the factory, not least sugar rationing, which had caused production to drop to three days a week. There was still no news from Mr Jack about when, or if, this might change. Some of the men were stripped to the waist to deal with the heat of working with boiling sugar. The hot toffee oozed from the pouring spouts of the pans and filled the metal slab where Hetty and Elsie stood waiting. As soon as the pans were emptied, the men returned to the sugar-boiling room to make more delicious creamy toffee.

When Hetty told anyone where she worked, the first thing they asked about was the wonderful smell of toffee. And it was true, the smell was as sweet and welcome as anything she had known. If she stuck out her tongue, she could taste toffee on the air. There was so much sugar in all of the rooms at the factory that it made the floors sticky to walk on, even though they were cleaned at the end of each day. The girls had to wear clogs in case they got stuck to the floor. If that happened, they would be lifted out of them by two strong-armed sugar boilers.

Hetty had worked at the factory for so long now she hardly noticed the smell any more. She’d also grown used to the sticky floors and having to grip her toes to keep her clogs on. She and Elsie had worked at Jack’s toffee factory since the outbreak of war. Back then, women had been recruited en masse to replace the men who’d been sent to war. It was the first time women had worked outside of the home, and friendships had soon been forged. Hetty had met Elsie and Anne and now she had two best friends.

Working at the factory had given her confidence. She’d stood up for girls who’d been unfairly treated. She’d helped get gas lamps installed to light up the dangerous lane at the back of the factory where her friend Beattie had been attacked. And she’d even become the face of Lady Tina toffee by winning a competition. Now Lady Tina was the factory’s best-selling toffee, and each tin had Hetty’s face on the lid.

‘How will I manage if I lose my job?’ she sighed.

‘Are you all right, love?’ a voice asked.

Hetty turned to see Beattie watching her quizzically.

‘You seem to be talking to yourself a lot this morning,’ Beattie said.

‘Was I?’ Hetty said, distracted.

‘Watch out, here it comes.’ Beattie handed Hetty a long, flat metal bar. Hetty leaned forward and began smoothing the bubbling toffee with it. She was careful not to let any part of her skin touch the toffee. She’d seen too many girls suffer burns.



Up and down the rows, on both sides of the slabs, women and girls quickly levelled toffee while it was warm. Leave it too long and it’d go hard and be uneven, consigned to the reject bins. Mr Jack had very high standards.

‘Ready!’ Beattie called from the top of the slab. She was a strong, sturdy woman whose family ran a farm on the outskirts of town.

The girls stood back as large metal grids were lowered onto the slabs where the toffee was starting to cool. It needed to be at the perfect consistency to be cut into the right size. The cutting grids were made up of small squares with sharp edges and were lowered to the toffee by pulleys from metal bars. Hetty always marvelled when she watched the toffee being cut; it was a magical sight. While she might have grown used to the sweet smell of sugar, seeing the toffees cut into shape and sent off to the wrapping room made her heart swell with joy. She took great pride in her work.

She exchanged a smile with Elsie and the girls got to work scooping the toffees into barrels to be wheeled to the wrapping room. As each slab was cleared, more pans of boiling toffee were carried into the room, and the whole process of pouring, spreading, cooling and cutting was repeated. Delicious scents drifted on the air: peppermint from one corner, strawberry from another. These were welcome aromas that had been missing from the factory during the years while war had raged.

‘I smell fruit. More supplies must be getting through at last,’ Beattie noted.

‘What’ll you do once the men return and we have to leave our jobs?’ Hetty asked.

‘I’ll go and work on the farm with my family,’ Beattie replied. ‘I’ll be all right, although I much prefer working here. What will happen to you? Will you look after your mum at home?’

Hetty bit her tongue. She didn’t want to talk about Hilda. She shrugged. ‘I’ve still got domestic work at Lumley Castle for two days a week. But it doesn’t pay well.’

Beattie stiffened, then tapped the side of her nose. It was the signal that Mrs Perkins was on the prowl.

The offices at the factory were in a separate building, away from where the toffee was made, wrapped and packed. There was a hush in the office building, with deep, soft caramel-coloured carpets laid from wall to wall. The walls were panelled in dark wood and decorated with framed certificates awarded for quality toffee.

Anne worked in a plush corner office that had once belonged to the factory’s sales manager, James Burl. Mr Burl was tall and good looking, with fine features and a firm jaw, and he considered himself Mr Jack’s right-hand man. However, while there was no denying he was excellent at his job, he treated his off. . .