by June Tate
‘Good morning. Jessie, isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s Mrs McGonigall,’ she said, giving him a hard stare.
He ignored this. ‘I just thought I’d pop in to let you know I intend to have this business. It’s a small gold mine, full every day with your regulars. You have built a fine reputation, Mrs McGonigall! We could do very well together. I’m prepared to double your salary to make you stay.’
‘Thanks, but I’m not interested,’ she said as she walked towards the kitchen.
‘I think you should know that I hate to lose,’ he called after her. Then he turned and left.
Standing in the kitchen, Jessie fumed to herself. This man, this stranger, was going to walk in and benefit from the years she’d spent building the business and that infuriated her. Well, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it! She went into George’s office, found a large piece of paper and started writing on it. Then with a satisfied smile, took it into the dining room and placed it on the counter.
As each of her customers arrived she quickly told them what had transpired and that she too would leave if the new man took over. They were in an uproar about this and all of them signed the petition she had prepared saying they would no longer use the cafe if someone else took over. By the end of the week there were so many signatures that Jessie had to make out another two pages to be signed. She then enclosed it in an envelope addressed to the stranger from the card George had given her, with a letter explaining that she felt he should know that if he did take over the cafe, he’d have very little business to start with and would have to build a new clientele.
Two days later, Larry Forbes walked into the cafe, his anger apparent to anyone who looked at him. He strode up to Jessie, who had just served a customer.
‘I suppose you think you’re very clever,’ he said.
She stared at him. ‘Not at all. I thought it only fair to inform you of the situation. You thought you’d be buying a going concern, when in truth you wouldn’t be.’
The dining room was silent, the customers listening to the angry exchange.
‘I’m not sure that the men who signed that bit of paper wouldn’t still come in anyway. They must have somewhere to eat.’
Before Jessie could answer, one of the men spoke up.
‘You’re wrong there, mate. We only come here for Jessie’s cooking. She leaves, so do we!’ There was a murmur of agreement from all the other customers.
Forbes studied the men’s faces. They all stared back at him. He turned on his heel and walked out.
Jessie was overcome with emotion. ‘Thank you all,’ she said and, before the tears began to flow, she fled into the kitchen.
The following day, George heard from the owners that the new man had withdrawn his offer, so they would be drawing up a contract for Jessie McGonigall to sign. She received a letter, explaining the situation, with a date and time for her to visit their office. Both were delighted, as were the men who used the cafe. Jessie thanked them profusely as she told them the good news.
‘Ah, Jessie love, you cook a bloody sight better than my old woman. Without a lunch here, I’d be starving to death!’
Although she was thrilled with the outcome, she knew that in Larry Forbes she’d made an enemy.
On the allotted day, she chose her best dress, put on her hat and gloves and presented herself at the owner’s office and signed the contract. She would take over the day George left, so the business could carry on immediately, without any closure.
After she signed the papers, she thanked the man profusely.
He shook her hand. ‘This wasn’t personal, Mrs McGonigall. We are business people, after all. But congratulations, we know how hard you’ve worked. Your customers will be happy, I’m sure.’
That evening she and Conor went to The Dolphin tap bar to celebrate. He lifted his glass.
‘To Jessie McGonigall, businesswoman of the year!’ He leant forward and kissed her. ‘Well done, darlin’. I’m really proud of you. This is the start of great things!’
Grinning broadly, she said, ‘In time, we’ll have our own house too, see if we don’t!’
‘Nothing you do would ever surprise me, Jessie. I’m only too happy to be part of it. Just don’t overwork yourself with your plans to improve what you have, that’s all.’
Chapter Five
It was now late September and Jessie was pleased with herself. Business had been good and she’d made money, despite having to pay off George for the equipment. Now she decided to have the dining room painted. One of the locals started after she’d closed on Saturday. He, Nancy and Jessie had moved and stacked the chairs and tables into the centre, and the man began washing the walls down in preparation.
In the morning, she and Conor went along to give a hand with the painting as the place had to be ready for business the following day. They all enjoyed applying the fresh magnolia to the walls and white to the ceiling, laughing and joking as they worked, but it was almost midnight when they finished.
Jessie made a mug of tea and some sandwiches to eat before they put back the tables and chairs ready for business. Then they stood and looked at the outcome of their work.
‘Bloody hell!’ Jessie declared. ‘The place looks twice as big!’
‘It’s grand, darlin,’ her husband agreed, ‘but I’m fair knackered. I think we could all do with a good night’s sleep.’
Jessie, aching in every bone of her body, agreed. She paid the man and locked up.
The following morning when her customers arrived, they were all very complimentary.
‘I hope you ain’t put up the prices, Jessie, to pay for this?’ one teased.
Laughing, she said, ‘Not yet, Charlie, but maybe at the end of the year by a few pence. The cost of living doesn’t stay the same, you know!’
‘Ah well, a few pence ain’t a great deal for a good meal.’
At the end of the day as she counted the takings, she let out a deep sigh of contentment. How lucky I am, she thought. I took the opportunity and it’s paying off. With the money she was making and Conor’s wage, she was managing to put a few shillings away towards her next dream, their own house. But a month later, those dreams were in tatters.
It had started as a normal day, and it wasn’t until she’d taken her last orders that the cafe door opened and one of the docks police walked in.
This was not unusual, as those on duty would often pop in for a mug of tea during a break or before going home.
‘Hello, Jim! Be with you in a moment … nice mug of tea?’
But Jim continued to walk towards her and she realised that something was wrong from the set look on his face. He took her by the arm and walked her into the kitchen.
‘What is it?’ she asked fearfully.
‘It’s Conor, Jessie. There’s been an accident.’
She felt the blood drain from her. ‘Is he … is he…?’
‘No, love, he’s not dead, but he is seriously hurt. One of the loads slipped the net and fell on top of him, I’m told. He’s in hospital.’
She staggered and grabbed hold of the countertop to stop from falling.
Nancy, her helper, pushed a chair forward for her to sit on and passed her a glass of water.
‘I must go to him,’ Jessie exclaimed as she took a sip.
‘I can manage on my own, Jessie,’ Nancy ventured. ‘There’s only three meals to serve. You go to your man.’
Jessie removed her apron, donning her coat and hat before rushing out of the cafe and catching a tram to the hospital. Once there, she rushed up to the reception.
‘My husband, Conor McGonigall, was brought in after an accident in the docks,’ she gasped.
The nurse looked at some notes on her desk and said, ‘He’s in surgery, Mrs McGonigall, take a seat in the waiting room. I’ll tell the doctor you’re here so then he’ll come and see you when he comes out of theatre.’
Jessie made her way to the waiting room, feeling sick to her stomach, praying silently tha
t her man would be all right.
It seemed an eternity before she heard footsteps and a man in a surgical gown entered. She got to her feet.
‘Mrs McGonigall?’ She nodded. ‘Please, let’s sit down.’ Once seated, he said, ‘Your husband has had a lucky escape. He could have been killed this morning, but, fortunately, it appears he saw what was happening and almost managed to get out of the way.’
‘Almost?’
‘Yes, the heavy crate still caught him, but only half of it, so I’m told. But he has sustained several serious injuries.’
‘Like what?’ Jessie unconsciously crossed her fingers.
‘He has a fractured pelvis, several broken ribs and a broken leg, but, mercifully, no head trauma.’
‘Is he going to die?’ She could hardly utter the words.
The surgeon took her hand. ‘No, Mrs McGonigall, he isn’t going to die, thankfully; however, he’s going to need nursing for some considerable time. We will be keeping him here for a while, of course.’
‘Will he ever be able to work again?’
‘Let’s get him better first, then we’ll talk about that.’
‘Can I see him?’
‘He’s still in recovery and, of course, unconscious. I suggest you go home, have some strong tea and something to eat. Come back this evening. When he’s awake he’ll be anxious to see you, I’m sure.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Try not to worry. Your husband looks a strong, fit man and that will be a great help to getting him back on his feet.’
On her own, Jessie felt the tears well in her eyes. Conor! Her rock in all things, now lying injured and incapacitated. It was so foreign to the picture of him in her mind. The vibrant man, striding into the living room after a heavy day’s work. Tired but able. And now …
Daisy saw her walking up the street and realised from her demeanour that something was wrong. ‘What is it, Jessie?’ When she heard, she ushered Jessie into her house and made her a cup of tea and a sandwich. ‘I know you don’t feel like eating, Jessie, but now of all times you need to keep up your strength. Don’t you worry about when you come back from the hospital tonight, I’ll have a meal keeping warm for you and you can tell me how Conor is. Now, is there anything I can do?’
‘No, Daisy love, you’ve done more than enough already.’
‘What about the cafe?’
‘Nancy is finishing off for me; she has the keys and will open in the morning ready for when I go in. I still have a business to run, and now more than ever I need to do that as we no longer have Conor’s money. I’ll be able to visit him in the afternoons and evenings as thankfully my business hours fit in with that nicely.’
Putting an arm around her friend’s shoulders, Daisy said, ‘Look, Jessie, you’ve had a dreadful shock. I suggest you go home and climb into bed and try and get some sleep. You’ve been up early and working, now you’ll need to be fresh for this evening’s visit.’
It was sound advice and, to her surprise, once she was enclosed in the warm bedclothes, Jessie slept solidly for two hours.
The alarm clock she’d set just in case she slept rang loudly, making her wake with a start, then she remembered why she was in bed in the afternoon. She lay for a moment gathering her thoughts. She’d need to take pyjamas for Conor and some toiletries. She’d better pack a couple of towels too, just in case. She got out of bed and walked downstairs to make a cup of tea, pull herself together and pack Conor’s bag.
Eventually, Jessie arrived at the hospital, asked which ward her husband was in and made her way there, her heart pounding. Outside the door to the ward, she took a deep breath. The last thing Conor needed was a wife in tears. She pushed open the door, asked the sister which bed was her husband’s, and was ushered to one with the curtains pulled round.
‘He’s asleep,’ she told Jessie. ‘Just sit quietly and I’ll bring you a cup of tea in a minute. Mr McGonigall needs to take his medication soon.’
Jessie looked down at the pale features of her man. It nearly broke her heart. He had a few scratches and a few stitches on his cheek. But the bruises were beginning to show and he looked as if he’d certainly been in the wars, as her mother used to say. She kissed him on the forehead, then sat beside him taking his hand.
‘Oh, Conor!’ The words slipped out as she gazed at him and the tears gathered in her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief. Everybody knew that such accidents happened when cargo was being loaded, but, of course, you never expected it to happen to one of your own. Jessie knew how careful and watchful Conor was, so it obviously took him by surprise … or so she assumed. He began to stir.
‘Conor,’ she said quietly.
He opened his eyes. ‘Jessie?’
‘Yes, my darlin’, I’m here.’ She stood up so he could see her clearly. ‘How are you?’
He tried to move and moaned. In a faint voice, he said, ‘I feel as if a bloody ship just sailed over me.’
‘A load slipped out of the net and fell on you, I was told.’
He frowned. ‘Oh yes, now I remember. It came over the hold too quickly and when the crane driver tried to slow it, the bloody thing tipped. Jesus! I remember seeing it hurtling towards me and I tried to dive out of the way.’
‘Just as well,’ Jessie said, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.’
The curtain was opened and the doctor appeared. ‘I hear you’re awake, Mr McGonigall. How do you feel, or is that a silly question?’
Conor managed a sardonic smile, but his voice faltered as he said, ‘I can’t find any part of me that doesn’t hurt, Doctor, so what’s the damage – and please give it to me straight!’
‘You have a fractured pelvis, a couple of broken ribs and a broken leg. It could have been much worse.’
‘Frankly, as the crate fell I thought I was going to die, so I figure I got off lightly.’
Jessie smothered a cry of anguish at his words. ‘Oh, Conor!’
He gripped her hand. ‘Now don’t fret, darlin’ I’ll recover eventually, won’t I, Doctor?’
‘Indeed, you will, but it’ll take time and you’ll have to learn to be patient.’ He turned to Jessie. ‘Another five minutes with your husband, Mrs McGonigall. We mustn’t tire him.’
Jessie could soon see the exchange with the doctor had wearied Conor and she rose to leave. ‘I’ll be in tomorrow,’ she said and kissed him.
He was fighting to keep his emotions in check, but he managed to smile at her. ‘Now, you’re not to worry, I’ll be fine.’
Jessie walked away hurriedly, but once she was outside the ward, the tears flowed. At least Conor was alive, and she was grateful for that, but how long before he’d be well enough to come home?
The following morning in the cafe, Jessie had to answer numerous questions as word had spread of the accident. Eventually, Nancy, seeing how it was distressing her employer, went into the cafe while Jessie was in the kitchen.
‘Now you all listen to me: stop asking questions! Can’t you see how upset Jessie is? For goodness’ sake think and pass the word round to the others that come in!’
There were murmurs of apology as she walked away.
But it had the desired effect, and the morning passed with Jessie able to work and shut her mind to her problem until closing time. Then after clearing up, she packed some sandwiches to take to the hospital in case Conor hadn’t fancied hospital food. But just as she was leaving, Larry Forbes arrived.
‘Mrs McGonigall! I’ve just heard about your husband and called in to say how sorry I am.’
She gazed at him with suspicion. What was this man up to now? ‘Thank you.’
‘If there’s anything I can do, you only have to say.’
He gave a benign smile, but the ice-cold expression in his eyes chilled her.
‘Thank you, but I’m fine,’ she said, and she walked away muttering, ‘the only thing you can do, Mr Forbes, is leave me alone!’
Chapter Six
For the next few weeks, Jessie’s life followed a pattern. She would go to
work, hurry home to freshen up, then go to the hospital to see her husband, returning to an empty house. That was the worst part. Daisy would pop in for a quick chat to see if Jessie needed anything, for which she was grateful, but the evenings would drag and she would clean her house from top to bottom, then black-lead the stove to within an inch of its life, to stop her from fretting and worrying about the future. Once Conor had recovered, would he return to work and would he still be able to keep his job as a stevedore? If not, how would he feel? Conor was a proud man. After being in charge he’d find it difficult to work in a lesser position, but maybe he’d have no choice. Would he have to join the dreaded call-on each morning? All these thoughts tormented her and interfered with her sleep, which made her even more tired as the days passed. To make matters worse, she’d had another visit from Larry Forbes, who stopped by for a mug of tea.
As she served him, he looked up and studied her closely.
‘Good morning, Mrs McGonigall, I can see that your husband’s accident is taking its toll on you too.’
She looked startled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You have dark circles under your eyes and you’re much quieter than usual. If you’re finding it all too much I’d be happy to give you a good price for the cafe.’
Glaring angrily at him, she said, ‘You never give up do you, Mr Forbes? Don’t waste your time coming in here to see me. I have absolutely no plans to leave my business, now or in the future!’
He was unfazed by her anger. ‘Just so you know, should an emergency occur and you need to offload it, that’s all.’ He rose from his seat. ‘I’ll leave you to get on, but remember I’m only trying to help.’