A Winter Bride (17 page)

The best table in the house was constantly reserved for the Rutherford family and friends. Harry entertained business clients here and, since Carol had left him, Johnny ate here almost every night, usually bringing one or two friends with him. That corner of the room was usually noisy, filled with bubbling conversation and bursts of laughter. May thought it brought a convivial atmosphere to her restaurant. It gave the impression that Rutherford’s was the place to come for a good night out. Although, since nobody at that special table ever paid, it occasionally crossed May’s mind that providing almost thirty free meals a week wasn’t very good for business.

Tonight, a Thursday, was piano night, as were Fridays and Saturdays. A sign on the door read
Musical Entertainment Provided by André Patterson at the Piano
. May was proud of this. As far as she knew, no other restaurant had such a thing. She thought the name – André – sounded musical. Certainly the man looked the part. He wore an evening suit complete with black bowtie. Both these attributes compensated for the manner of his playing. He wasn’t awfully good. May knew this, but figured that the noise in the room – crockery clattering, wine bottles popping, people talking – hid his wrong notes. He was paid to play at what May called pudding time. ‘When folk are full of good food, feeling mellow and contemplating something sweet to round off their meal.’ She often gave out free liqueurs to accompany the music. ‘Just a wee drink on the house so you’ll remember us kindly and come back to see us soon.’

When the final dish had been cooked and all that was left to do was serve coffee, May would emerge from the kitchen and, still in chef’s whites and hat, she’d lean on the piano and sing. She favoured torrid love songs and any song that featured food. Tonight’s offering was ‘Tea for Two’.

Desperately concentrating on remembering the lyrics, she always sang with her eyes shut. So she never saw Sylvie and Karen holding their hands over their mouths, stifling giggles or shocked diners, holding a spoon loaded with sticky toffee pudding, frozen midway between dish and lips as they tried to come to terms with what they were hearing.

Harry had once suggested that singing to people wasn’t an awfully good idea. May had scoffed at him. ‘Singing’s what you do when you’re happy.’ She’d pointed accusingly at him. ‘Your problem, Harry Rutherford, is that you’re not musical. You can’t hold a tune, so you don’t know a good song when you hear one. My singing may sound off to you, but in here—’ she had pointed to her head ‘—it’s lovely.’

Song over, May bowed to her audience and thanked them for their sprinkling of applause. She sat at the special table next to Harry and across from Johnny so she could gaze at him and wonder how someone like her could produce someone like him. As she ate her bacon and eggs – the only thing she could face after cooking so much rich food – she decided that he was her reward. At some time she must have done something good. She couldn’t imagine what that might have been.

Watching his mother mop up egg yolk with one of the bread rolls she’d made, Johnny said, ‘You want to keep an eye on those waitresses of yours.’

May asked why.

‘They giggle. They don’t understand a thing about the food they’re serving and they spend a lot of time at the window waving to their gang of admirers.’

May said she’d have a word. ‘They’re rough around the edges, but they’re cheap. Cheap is what I need right now.’ She sighed. ‘I thought the family would rally round. But they’re avoiding me.’

It was true. All of May’s relatives had suddenly become very busy when she’d asked if they’d help with the restaurant. In phone calls and gatherings she hadn’t been invited to, they’d agreed that May was wonderful, gregarious, generous and a gifted cook. But work for her? In a kitchen? The way she was? They didn’t think so.

Johnny said she should get a front-of-house.

‘What’s that?’

‘A meeter and greeter,’ he told her. ‘Someone to welcome your diners, show them to their tables, ask if they want to order a drink before they eat, and talk about what’s on the menu and the wine list. That sort of thing. You get them in posh restaurants.’

‘I couldn’t afford someone like that,’ said May. ‘I’m hardly making a penny in profit right now.’

‘You could get Nell,’ said Johnny. ‘She could do it. She’s not the mouse she used to be. Not since Alistair got to work on her.’

‘But she knows nothing about food and wine,’ said May.

Johnny shrugged. ‘So teach her. Once she knew nothing about pens and now she can shift about twenty a week. And that’s pens. I mean, who wants a pen? I’d have her in the showroom selling cars. But you can’t have a woman doing that. Cars are men’s business.’

‘Nell?’

‘Yes, Nell,’ said Johnny. He looked at his mother and repeated, ‘Nell,’ and drifted into his private thoughts. This always made him look sulky. May’s heart went out to him. His heart is broken, she thought.

‘Are you missing Carol and Katy?’ May asked suddenly.

He waved the question away. ‘Nah. Well, I’m missing Katy.’ He hardly missed Carol at all. In fact, he was enjoying not having her around. He could come and go as he pleased. Now he was planning to sell the house they’d shared so he could buy a flat in town. He wanted a bachelor pad he could furnish with a huge leather sofa, a television, a hi-fi, a fridge and a bed – nothing more. He didn’t plan to cook. He’d eat out. He was looking forward to it.

May watched him. She loved him when he looked the way he looked right now. People thought he was sulky, but that was just the way his face fell when he wasn’t using it. She thought life must be hard for him. Well, it was probably hard for all beautiful people. So much was expected of them, they never got the chance to be ordinary.

May thought that while life must be hard for Johnny, it couldn’t be too hard for Alistair. He wasn’t beautiful. He’d gone his own way in life and had become a lawyer because he’d had no hindrances. He hadn’t had girls clustered round him. Nobody asked what he was thinking in the way they had of Johnny, who was so beautiful everyone thought he must have been thinking beautiful thoughts. In school reports teachers had called him lazy and sullen. Oh, how wrong they were, May thought. They hadn’t understood the trials those blessed with beauty suffer.

There was no doubt in May’s mind that Johnny would need help. He’d left school with nothing. He hadn’t passed a single exam. He’d gone into his father’s business working in every department, learning the ropes. He’d been useless as a mechanic and Harry said he wasn’t much of a salesman. Of course he wasn’t. People would be too busy looking at him to listen to a word he said. How awful it must be to be so misunderstood.

Harry was looking strained these days. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ he’d told her. May knew that when Harry said there was nothing to worry about, there was something to worry about.

Face it, May told herself, she wasn’t doing this for the family. She was doing it for Johnny. And if Nell was what he wanted to front this place, then Nell he’d get.

Chapter Seventeen

A Meeter and Greeter

For a moment, a flutter of dread ran through Nell. As her morning bus drew up at the stop a few yards from the pen shop, she thought she’d seen May standing in the doorway. Surely not, she thought. Not that she disliked May. She just didn’t want to talk to her at this time of day. A person needed to be properly awake to deal with the woman.

And Nell was not fully awake. She’d been up late last night discussing men, love and relationships with Carol. It had started when Nell asked if Carol was any further towards finding somewhere to stay.

Carol had shaken her head. Flats were pricey and she had no money. ‘Johnny’s refusing to give me anything. He says he doesn’t have to because I left him.’

Nell had looked at Alistair, expecting him to say something about Carol’s legal rights and those of her daughter. Katy was also Johnny’s responsibility, after all.

However, Alistair had only said that Carol was welcome to stay as long as she liked. ‘We enjoy having you around.’ Then he’d excused himself; he’d said he was tired after a hellish day and had a feeling the following day was going to be worse.

After he’d gone, Carol had said, ‘He’s lovely. You’re so lucky.’

Nell had agreed.

‘Isn’t it funny,’ Carol had said. ‘You’re the one who never reckoned on love. And you found it. I always wanted love and in the end I married Johnny for money and security, but mostly because I had to.’

Nell had shrugged. ‘Life’s unpredictable.’

‘I still think that if you never find love then your life has been for nothing.’

Nell had disagreed. ‘Lots of people have done wonderful things, lived marvellous lives without ever finding their true love, like Florence Nightingale and Mary Slessor.’ She had no idea if either of these women had ever been in love but reckoned Carol wouldn’t know either so her theory would go unchallenged. ‘And there are people who invented things and people who composed music and people who painted fantastic paintings. You can’t say these lives have been for nothing. It’s who you are and what you do that matters.’

Perhaps, Carol had agreed. But she’d still thought love was all that mattered. She had gone on to extol Alistair’s virtues. What a wonderful husband he was. ‘He’ll vacuum the floor and he puts Katy to bed. Reads her a story. Johnny never did that.’ She’d spoken about how lonely she was, and how she doubted she’d ever find another man. ‘Who’d love me now? I’ve failed at marriage. I’ve got a child. I’m not a good prospect.’ On and on she’d gone. Life was hard. Men didn’t understand how it was to be a woman. And wasn’t Nell lucky to have such a beautiful flat. The fire had faded, and the room had turned cold. Nell had yawned. She’d ached to be in bed. It had been after one in the morning before she got there.

Now she was sticky-eyed, grumpy and a little bit sweaty as she hadn’t had a bath.

It had been three weeks since Carol had turned up at Nell and Alistair’s door and she had established her own routine. She took control of the bathroom every morning. Before bathing herself, she’d bathe Katy, hanging over the side of the bath, splashing the child and singing her favourite songs. At the moment ‘Nellie the Elephant’ was top choice.

This was irritating. Worse though was the clutter of toys – a family of yellow plastic ducks, a wooden boat, a blue submarine and a large red ball – Nell had to remove every time she wanted to get into the bath. The clutter wasn’t restricted to the bathroom. It was everywhere, a spreading of clothes, gaudily coloured toys, baby lotions and potions, and Carol’s magazines, make-up and shoes that stretched from the front door to the kitchen. Every night when Nell arrived home, she walked the few yards down the hall to the living room bent double picking things up. There was more picking up and tidying to do in the living room, and then much sighing in the kitchen as she washed the dishes Carol had used during the day. All this and then Nell had to cook the supper.

She was surprised that the clutter and the intrusion didn’t also annoy Alistair, but he seemed to be delighted by it. He’d step over any obstacles on the floor as he headed for Katy. He’d sweep her up, saying, ‘How’s my girl?’ He’d ask Carol what sort of day she’d had and listen with interest as she recounted her doings. Carol had a knack of making a day spent reading magazines, doing her hair, going to the park and chatting to the woman in the chemist’s shop about the benefits of teething gel sound fascinating. This intensified Nell’s annoyance and, as she peeled potatoes and grilled chops, she’d make faces and bob her head from side to side as she silently mimicked her friend.

Going through all this as she walked from the bus stop to the shop door shoved the dreadful, fleeting sighting of May out of Nell’s mind. She jumped when the woman appeared at her side, gripped her arm and said, ‘I need a word.’

It was May.

‘I don’t want to be late for work.’

‘You’ll just have to be late. This is important.’ May didn’t loosen her grip and led Nell away to a small café round the corner.

They sat at a corner table. May ordered two cups of tea. ‘Never ask for coffee in a place like this. They don’t understand coffee. Tea they do.’ She took a hanky from her pocket and wiped the tabletop. ‘Filthy. Can’t be doing with germs. Now, you have to come and work for me.’

Nell said she couldn’t. She already had a job she loved. ‘And, if I say so myself, I’m good at it.’

‘I know,’ said May, ‘that’s why I need you to work for me.’

Nell looked at her watch and repeated that she was late for work.

‘I’m glad to see you take it so seriously,’ said May. ‘I like my workers to be punctual.’

Nell said she didn’t want to be a waitress.

‘Did I not tell you what you’d be doing?’ asked May. ‘That’s not like me. You wouldn’t be a waitress. You’d be a meeter and greeter, front of house. You’d welcome people when they arrived, chat to them sort of thing, make them feel at home. Then you’d show them the menu and discuss the dishes and you’d talk them through the wine list.’

‘I don’t know anything about wine,’ said Nell.

‘You will when I’m done with you. You’ll wear smart clothes – a long black skirt and a white shirt. You’ll work from six-thirty to eleven every night, except Sunday obviously, and I’ll double your present pay.’

‘But …’

‘No buts. You’re family and the family needs you. You can hand in your notice today and start with me a fortnight on Monday. And, of course, when I open up my next restaurant, Rutherford’s In The City, you’ll be manager. So I’m offering you more money and a chance of promotion. More than you’ll get in your present job.’

‘I like to be at home with Alistair in the evening,’ Nell said. ‘I like to spend time alone with him.’

‘You’ll not be alone with Carol there. Never did like that girl. She tricked my Johnny into marriage. How is she, by the way?’

‘Fine,’ said Nell.

‘And the little one?’

‘Fine, too. She’s getting big. Well, bigger.’

‘Good,’ said May. ‘Alistair can come eat at the restaurant any time he likes. We have a special family table set aside. You’ll see him then. Don’t invite Carol.’ She slapped the table and stood up. ‘Well, I’m glad that’s all settled.’