After years of giving homemade soap as Christmas presents, Mum finally began selling it.
Her brother ordered twenty bars, without perfume, coloured flowers or her usual name stamp. Mum was delighted by the large order.
Then she asked why he wanted all the details removed….
Pam had been making soap for six years. Every Christmas, the family received a little parcel tied with ribbon.
The soap smelled of lavender. Sometimes it smelled of roses. Once it smelled of something Pam described as a forest after rain.
Her brother, Alan, said his bathroom had smelled like a wet hedge until March.
Pam thought he was complimenting the strength.
Her daughter encouraged her to sell the soap at the village market. They bought paper wrappers, printed price labels and arranged the bars in neat rows.
Each bar had PAM pressed into the top.
That’s important, Pam said. People should know who made it.
Alan stopped at the stall on the first Saturday. He picked up a rose bar and turned it over.
Could you make some plain ones?
Certainly.
No flowers?
Of course.
No perfume?
Some people prefer that.
And no name on top?
Pam looked surprised, but agreed. Alan ordered twenty.
She wrote the order in her new book. It was her biggest sale.
Would he like the usual wrappers?
Plain paper would do.
And ribbon?
He had his own.
Pam said she could stamp a little message on the bars instead. A birthday wish, perhaps, or the name of a hotel.
Alan declined. Completely plain was best.
Her daughter asked whether he was starting a guesthouse.
He said no. These were for Christmas.
Pam was touched. She hadn’t realised he liked her soap enough to give it to other people.
He counted out the money. She asked whether the whole family would be receiving it.
Quite a few of them, he said.
Then why remove the flowers, the smell and my name?
Alan glanced at the stall, where his sister’s details appeared on every label.
Because they already know who gave it to me last year.
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