Bye Bye Love (27 page)

Everything was going his way, but somehow he wasn’t quite as excited about it all as everyone expected him to be. He wasn’t as excited as he thought he should be. Somewhere beneath the perfect surface, there were nagging doubts.

He tried to put them aside the next morning when he and Corinne set out to look at the two premises he thought were most suitable for their venture. First they caught the white open-topped bus to Chalkwell to see a place opposite the park. Corinne liked the park but not the flat over the restaurant.

‘It’s too small and too dark. And there is a strange smell,’ she said, wrinkling her nose.

‘I expect the smell will go when it’s all cleaned up and painted,’ Jonathan said.

But Corinne was not convinced, so they caught the bus back again, past the Trafalgar and the Kursaal to the quiet end of the sea front nearer to Thorpe Bay. The building there was one of the ones that Jonathan had shown the details of to Scarlett. This time Corinne was far more enthusiastic.

‘Oh, yes, it is a very pretty place. I like the railings and the steps. We could have window-boxes there with geraniums, and a tub by the door with a bay tree.’

Jonathan felt his spirits rising.

‘Wait till you see inside. It’s not big, but it’s got everything we need.’

He fitted the key into the door and they stepped into a big dusty room that still had a couple of cheap tables and some chairs abandoned in it.

‘Look, we could put six tables of four and two twos in this part,’ Jonathan said, ‘and then we could knock down this wall, or maybe partially knock it down, and have a bar area and a couple more tables in the back here.’

Corinne looked slowly round, nodding.

‘Yes, yes. I can see it. We shall have very sophisticated colours—eau-de-nil and dark green maybe, or sky-blue and white with a touch of gold—and mirrors and candles and fresh flowers and crisp white linen.’

‘Wonderful,’ Jonathan agreed. ‘Now, come through here and see the kitchen. It’s pretty crummy, but there’s space for improvement.’

It was pretty crummy. There was a large stained sink, a couple of worktops, some built-in cupboards and a capped-off gas pipe. But it was a large enough room with natural light and ventilation and a back door leading to a large yard. Jonathan could immediately see how he would divide up the space to make an efficient working kitchen.

‘The toilets are horrible,’ he warned Corinne.

They both looked at the Ladies and Gents cloakrooms and agreed that, like the kitchen, they would have to be completely refurbished.

‘So—the restaurant is fine, or will be when all the work is done. What about the apartment?’ Corinne asked.

Jonathan led the way up a dark staircase to the living accommodation. It was on two levels, with a large sitting room overlooking the sea, a kitchenette and bathroom on the first floor and three bedrooms under sloping ceilings on the second floor. Corinne was delighted.

‘Oh, yes, I can make it so pretty! We will have a sofa just here, and we will sit together in the afternoons between lunch and dinner service and look at the sea and the ships. We will be so happy, and so successful!’

Jonathan could see it all. The busy kitchen where he would produce food that would have all of Southend and the surrounding area flocking to his door, the elegant eating area buzzing with happy diners, the comfortable apartment to which he and Corinne could retreat. It was on this last point that his imagination blurred over a little and the nagging doubts crept in. He pushed them aside. He was committed now. He smiled at his fiancée.

‘Shall we buy it, then?’

Corinne beamed and threw her arms round him.

‘Oh, yes! Oh, I am so happy! We must go and buy it straight away!’

I
T WAS
at the beginning of September that Nell said to Scarlett that she needed to have a serious chat.

‘Oh, dear,’ Scarlett said. ‘That doesn’t sound too good. What’s the matter?’

‘Come upstairs. I’ve put the kettle on,’ Nell told her.

Bert was sitting with his feet up reading the newspaper. He smiled at her a bit uncertainly when she came in. Scarlett was beginning to feel distinctly unsettled. Something was going on here. Nell brought cups of tea and slices of brightly coloured angel cake.

‘Now then,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid we’ve had a bit of a shock.’

Fear snatched at Scarlett’s heart. ‘Are you all right? You’re not ill, are you, either of you?’

‘No, no, dear. Nothing serious. But I suppose that’s got something to do with it, in a way. No, you see, yesterday evening we had a phone call from our daughter.’

‘Our Thelma,’ Bert supplied.

‘Yes, our Thelma. In a right state, she was, feeding pennies into the phone box at her end and crying. Her husband’s been made redundant. Terrible shock, it was. That’s five hundred of them all out on their ear at the same time, and no jobs going up there. Well, not five hundred jobs, anyway. Poor Thelma doesn’t know which way to turn. They’ve got all this stuff on the HP and rent to pay and all the rest of it and she doesn’t know how she’s going to manage. Well, after she’d rung off, Bert and me had a long talk.’

‘We’re not getting any younger,’ Bert said. ‘And we can’t do the standing, not any more.’

‘And we have still got that flat upstairs,’ Nell said.

Scarlett suddenly saw where this was leading. A feeling of doom settled on her stomach. She pushed the slice of angel cake away. She wasn’t feeling hungry any more.

‘The thing is, dear, we’ve got to think of our future,’ Nell carried on. ‘We did hope as you’d see your way to coming and living here and being a sort of manageress for us, but I can quite see how you can’t, what with your dad and all. So you see, we thought we’d offer the flat to our Thelma and her Andy, and they could run the place for us. There’s two of them, you see, so they could do it between them. We’d only have to fill in if it was very busy. We could retire and still live here. It’d be ideal. We’ve nowhere else to go if we leave here, but with them here running the place we’d be able to stay, and they’d have a home and a living.’

‘I see,’ Scarlett said. ‘It’s all very neat. Works perfectly.’

‘Well, it does,’ Nell agreed. ‘And we had been getting a bit worried about what we was going to do in our old age. I mean, we got our pensions, but that’s all. And now, with Thelma’s Andy being out of work, like, it solves two problems.’

Scarlett could understand that all right. But she couldn’t see a place for herself in the scheme.

‘So—you won’t be needing me any more?’ she said.

Nell and Bert both looked very uncomfortable.

‘We hate doing this to you, dear,’ Nell said.

‘You been a real little grafter. A godsend,’ Bert agreed.

‘But it’s family, you see—’

Scarlett did see. It was just very hard when you didn’t have any family yourself to stand by you and help you through the bad times.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Of course.’

‘You’re to stay on until you’ve found somewhere else. And just tell them you work here and we’ll give you a glowing reference.’

‘Yeah, anyone’d be pleased to have you,’ Bert said.

‘Right,’ Scarlett repeated. ‘Thank you.’

So it was back to looking at the local paper and the newsagents’ windows. There were cleaning and bar jobs going, but no employers were as accommodating as Nell and Bert had been when it came to allowing the children to be with her in the mornings. She had to settle for just an evening job for the time being, and prepared to cut down on the very few extras she had come to allow herself. She bade a tearful farewell to Bert and Nell, and wished them well in their retirement.

‘We’ll miss you, dear, and the kiddies,’ Nell told her. ‘So we bought a little present for them to remember us by.’

Little wasn’t quite the word to describe it. The brown paper parcel was as tall as Simon. Both children ripped the paper away to reveal a horse that moved along when you bounced up and down on it. Joanne and Simon were at first speechless with amazement, then wild with excitement. They couldn’t wait to get it home and play with it. Scarlett gave Bert and Nell a last hug, loaded the toy horse onto the pram and left the Horse and Groom and the happy times she had had there.

The new job wasn’t half as nice as working for Nell and Bert. It was at a big pub just off the High Street. There were lots of staff, so she was bottom of the heap instead of the trusted almost-manager, the customers weren’t so nice and at times could be far too friendly and it was further to walk to and fro. The long trek back along the London Road at night was not pleasant. She didn’t tell the Harringtons that she had lost her job at the Horse and Groom, but of course Joanne let it slip, being far too young to understand the need to cover things up.

‘So you’re finding it hard to keep the children, are you?’ Mrs Harrington said.

‘The children never go without,’ Scarlett assured her, and went onto the offensive. ‘Have you heard anything more from Ricky? Is he settling in Liverpool?’

Mrs Harrington’s mouth went into a hard straight line.

‘He hasn’t any fixed plans at the moment. He’s considering his career.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean? Is he going to send any money for the children’s winter shoes? I want them to have proper ones that fit their feet, not any old rubbish that might cramp their little toes.’

She managed to shame Mrs Harrington into submission. She couldn’t very well suggest that Scarlett was incapable of providing for her children when it was her own son’s fault that Scarlett was in this position. Then she attacked while she had the advantage.

‘Has he got a girlfriend up there in Liverpool? Is that why he’s not contacted me, or made any move to come and see his own children?’

‘No, of course not. He’s a married man,’ Mrs Harrington told her.

‘Then perhaps he’d better remember that,’ Scarlett retorted.

The children were beginning to look upset over the simmering tension. Scarlett decided to quit while she was ahead.

‘Thank you for looking after them,’ she said. ‘It’s a nice day. I think we’ll go for a walk along the sea front. Get some nice healthy fresh air into their lungs.’

Usually she walked along the Westcliff part of the sea front, but today Scarlett decided to go the other way, under the pier and along the Golden Mile. They passed the Trafalgar, and Aunty Marge’s chip shop, and the Mancinis’ café. It was too early in the day for any of them to be open. The street cleaners were still clearing up after the evening trippers who came down to see the Illuminations and stayed on to enjoy the fun of the Golden Mile. At the Kursaal corner she paused. They had come quite a long way and it was even further to go back. Joanne would be tired long before they reached home and she would have to push both of them. But there was something calling her on. She knew it was stupid, but she’d heard where Jonathan was going to open his restaurant and she just wanted to see it.

‘Come on,’ she said to Joanne. ‘Just a bit further. Then, if Aunty Marge is open on the way back, we’ll get a bag of chips to help us along.’

The little girl ran ahead of her, shouting at the seagulls to make them take off from their lookout spots on the railing posts. They passed the gasworks and came out onto the prettier part of the sea front. And then there it was. She recognised it straight away from the description she had read on the estate agent’s leaflet. There was a big
Sold
notice attached to the railings on one side of the door, and on the other side a board announcing
Coming soon—Petit France—Fine French Cuisine
. The front door was open and a builder’s truck was parked outside. A sound of hammering came from within. Scarlett stood and gazed across the road at it. If only. Her life seemed to be full of If Onlys.

Joanne tugged at her arm. ‘Come on, Mummy.’

‘Yes, yes. In a minute.’

There was no point in staying. She turned the pram round.

‘Scarlett! Wait!’

Her heart twisted painfully. There, in the doorway, was Jonathan, waving and smiling. Scarlett stood still. Jonathan ran across the road to join her. He looked bright and happy, his hair tousled and his face alight with enthusiasm.

‘Scarlett, how are you? Did you come to have a look at the place?’

‘No,’ Scarlett lied. ‘I just happened to be walking along here with the children.’

‘Well, now you’re here you must come inside. See it as it is now and then see the improvements as we go along.’

‘You’re not open already, are you?’ Scarlett asked. He was wearing a navy sweater over his chef’s trousers.

‘Open? Oh, no, I’m just talking to the builders before I set off for work. I’ve got a temp job to keep the money coming in. We only signed the papers yesterday. It’s finally ours! Isn’t it brilliant?’

‘Lovely,’ Scarlett said. Somehow, she couldn’t get anything near the right amount of pleasure into her voice.

Jonathan didn’t seem to notice.

‘It’s going to be tough getting it all ready for opening in November, but as long as we’ve got the restaurant part done, then we can do up the apartment as we go along. I’m so excited about this, Scarlett. It’s a bit of a gamble, bringing fine French cooking to Southend, but I think we can succeed. Are you coming over to look inside?’

‘No,’ Scarlett said. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

Jonathan finally realised that she was not as thrilled as he was about the new venture. He gave her a level look.

‘I hoped you might be pleased for me, Scarlett. For old times’ sake, you know.’

Scarlett took a long shuddering breath. ‘I am pleased for you. Really I am. I know it’s what you always wanted.’

This was his pet project, what he had talked of ever since she had known him—a restaurant of his own where he could use all the skills he had learnt. This was what he had worked so hard to achieve, his dream, and it was coming true at last. It made her own life seem emptier than ever.

‘So why don’t you want to come in?’

Pride stopped her from admitting that she was jealous—jealous of his success and even more jealous of Corinne, who was sharing it with him.

‘I just don’t, that’s all,’ she said. She could hear how sulky that sounded.

‘I see.’ Jonathan looked disappointed. ‘I had hoped—well, never mind. Look, will you do something for me? I’ve had these cards printed, and some leaflets. Will you give them out to people at the Horse and Groom? People you think might be interested in the restaurant.’

‘I’m not working at the Horse and Groom any more.’

‘You’re not? Why? I thought you liked it there.’

Scarlett explained. Jonathan looked sympathetic.

‘That’s rotten luck, Scarlett. It’s a pity we can’t offer you anything here. It’s going to be just the two of us at first until it takes off. But we might be able to take you on later. I know you’d be able to turn your hand to anything.’

Scarlett looked at him in amazement. He didn’t really think that would work, did he? It would be her idea of hell, working for him and that Corinne, seeing them happy together, taking orders from them. And she couldn’t see Corinne being very pleased about it either. It would cause endless stress.

‘Jonathan, this is the last place I’d want a job,’ she told him.

He looked quite hurt.

‘I thought we were friends, Scarlett. We could have worked well together.’

Scarlett nodded. The pain and regret were so overwhelming she could hardly speak. She and Jonathan would have made the perfect team. But not now, not when he was about to be married and thought of her as nothing closer than a friend. It was all far too late.

‘Gotta go,’ she managed to say. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks.’ Jonathan pressed one of the cards into her hand. ‘Take this anyway. Don’t lose touch.’

Scarlett nodded, thrust the card into her pocket and started back along the sea front.

When she finally arrived home, she found a letter on the mat. She picked it up and frowned at it. She hardly ever received letters. She looked at the postmark. It was a bit blurred, but she could still make it out—Liverpool.

‘Ricky,’ she said out loud.

She hadn’t recognised his writing.

Intrigued but wary, she walked through to the kitchen, still holding it in her hand. Why was he writing to her now, after all this time? Did he want to come back? She rather thought not. Knowing him, he would just turn up, expecting to be received with open arms. She made tea and took it in to her father, who was hardly awake, then sat the children down with a drink and a biscuit each. She took a comforting gulp of tea herself, then she tore open the envelope. The letter was short and to the point.

‘No hard feelings?’ Scarlett said out loud. ‘No hard bloody feelings? After all you’ve done? You’ve got a nerve, Ricky bloody Harrington!’

Both the children were looking at her uneasily. Simon’s face was already beginning to crumple.

‘It’s all right,’ she said to them. ‘Mummy’s not cross with you.’

But she had to let off her feelings somehow. She went and locked herself in the outside toilet, dug her fingers into her scalp, stamped her feet and growled with fury.