The Girl from the Docklands Café

by June Tate

  ‘Well this is a celebration, Mrs McGonigall,’ Forbes said, laughing after seeing the expression on her face.

  The meal was superb and, during their time together, Larry Forbes talked business and about the hotel. ‘If it’s a success, and I fully expect it to be so, Jessie, I’m thinking of opening another small one. What do you think about that?’

  ‘I think it’s far too soon to contemplate such a thing,’ she said without hesitation. ‘You have an investment in this one to recover first. Then, maybe, but certainly not for a while. This one must become established first, surely?’

  He looked at her with admiration. ‘You are a fine businesswoman and, of course, you’re right, but it is an idea for the future, don’t you think?’

  ‘Are you thinking of building an empire, Mr Forbes?’ she asked wryly.

  He started laughing. ‘Would that be such a terrible thing, Mrs McGonigall?’

  Shrugging, she retorted, ‘Not if it paid!’

  They finished the champagne and their meal, then they had a pot of coffee and a liqueur, at his insistence.

  ‘I came to work,’ Jessie argued. ‘At this rate I’ll not be in any state to do so.’

  He studied her for a moment, then quietly said, ‘After what you’ve been through, it won’t do you any harm. You have some difficult days ahead, Jessie. I know you are a strong woman and I do admire that, but you’re only human. You need to be kind to yourself, take it slowly. I don’t want to lose my manageress.’

  She was at a loss for words for a moment and emotion suddenly whelmed up inside her. She was fine as long as no one was kind to her – that she found hard to take. She swallowed and, taking a deep breath, said, ‘Thank you. I’ll be fine, you’ll see. Tonight, I’m moving back into the hotel. I don’t want to be in the house for the time being.’

  ‘That’s perfectly understandable. Do what is right for you.’ He folded his napkin and placed it on the table. ‘Thank you for joining me for lunch. I enjoyed your company. When you need to take time off for the funeral, just let me know. I’m at the end of a telephone if you need me. Just call.’

  They left the dining room together. Jessie returned to her office as Forbes left for his.

  She sent for another pot of coffee and sat thinking about the lunch and her companion. She really couldn’t make him out. There had been times when she’d hated this man, but ever since she’d worked for him, she’d seen a different side to him. As he’d often said, she didn’t know him at all. Well, that certainly seemed to be so. But he was a shrewd businessman and she admired that. He’d given her an opportunity to better herself, for which she’d be forever grateful. The saddest thing in her life was that Conor was no longer around to reap the benefit with her, so she’d have to go it alone. Well, if that was the case she’d damn well do it – and succeed!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was Christmas Eve. Jessie stepped out of the lift, ready for the evening’s business; she was dressed for the occasion in a long emerald green gown, with a high neck. The bodice swathed across her, with just a few gold sequins, which caught the light. Her hair was dressed in a chignon on the crown of her head with a tortoiseshell comb and a few tendrils of her vibrant red hair round her face.

  With a feeling of pride, she looked around the foyer. In one corner stood a tall Christmas tree, tastefully decorated. There were winter garlands draped along the front of the reception desk. Ivy twisted round the two pillars with colourful baubles intertwined. There was no mistaking that it was Christmas. She made her way to the dining room where a dinner dance was to be held that night. A small platform had been placed at one end to house a small five-piece band and in the centre of the room a space for dancers. The tables were laid with pristine white cloths and napkins folded artistically. Christmas crackers adorned each place setting and in the centre of each table a small, low flower arrangement, enough to dress the table, but not big enough to intrude.

  The head waiter came over to her. ‘Good evening, Mrs McGonigall, can I be of help?’

  ‘No, Henry, just taking a look and I must say the room looks wonderful.’

  He looked delighted. A compliment from the manageress was always appreciated, because she was quick to point out any discrepancies, if she found any.

  ‘Are the extra agency staff up to your standards?’ She smiled as she asked because her head waiter was like her, a perfectionist.

  ‘Oh yes! I gave them a good schooling yesterday and this morning. They’ll do.’

  ‘Then I’ll leave you to it. Have a good night.’

  She then made her way to the kitchen to see the chef. Everything was up to scratch there, too. She complimented him on his menu, which pleased him, and then, just as she was about to go to her office, Larry Forbes arrived, wearing evening dress.

  ‘Jessie! May I say how elegant you look. That gown is exquisite. You look beautiful, Mrs McGonigall!’

  She felt her cheeks flush. ‘And you, Mr Forbes, are, as usual, well turned out!’

  ‘Everything ready for tonight? Although I don’t know why I ask as you run a tight ship, as my grandfather would say.’

  ‘Yes, everything is fine.’

  ‘Good, then you and I can go to the bar and have a quiet drink before everything starts. Come along.’ He took her arm and led her away.

  ‘Good evening, madam, sir,’ said James.

  ‘What can I get you?’ Forbes looked at Jessie.

  ‘I would love a gin and tonic with ice and lemon please.’

  ‘Make that two,’ Forbes said. ‘I must say the hotel looks very festive. The decorations are very tasteful, not cheap and cheerful. Your choice, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes. Classy not brassy was what I wanted and I am pleased with the result. The staff were so helpful giving up some of their free time to lend a hand.’

  ‘You have earned their respect, that’s why. Believe me, I know about staff!’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ she said, ‘what happened to Henry Marshall, the young man you sent to the cafe to take the money just in case I cheated you?’

  Forbes gazed at her with a look of uncertainty at her tone. ‘He’s fine, working well, a less pompous young man after his time at the cafe.’ He paused. ‘I had to be sure, Jessie; after all, I’m a businessman.’

  ‘Of course you are, and a successful one, but also ruthless, when necessary. Without knowing it, Mr Forbes, you’ve taught me a lot.’ She smiled at him, leaving him wondering if he’d misheard the rebuke she’d thrown his way.

  Jessie picked up her glass. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take this to my office and have it when we close. I don’t like to drink when I’m on duty as a rule, but that one sip was very welcome. I’ll see you later.’

  Forbes sipped his drink, wondering why Jessie was so different tonight. But, of course, talking about business, he’d forgotten for a moment about her personal situation. She was grieving for her husband after his unexpected death; mentally she’d be coping with that while trying to work. How difficult that must be for her.

  The bar started to fill up and Forbes greeted the customers, playing the host and owner, charming everyone as was his way when the situation called for it.

  Jessie was doing exactly the same as the guests entered the hotel. Those going to the bar were offered tasty canapés while they drank, which impressed them. The diners were led to their tables as dinner was to be served at eight o’clock. And so it began.

  It wasn’t until she knew that the dessert course was served that Jessie entered the dining room. She went round every table asking the clients if they were enjoying the food. All of them agreed that it was excellent. Knowing that most people would be eating turkey or goose on Christmas Day, the chef had offered two courses as an alternative. Roast beef or salmon, with apple charlotte or lemon soufflé for dessert, followed by a cheeseboard. All of which only enticed more to make a booking.

  The five-piece band had been playing quietly in the background, but when the coffee was ser
ved, they started playing dance music. Jessie was delighted to see several people take to the floor, and by the third number the floor was a little crowded. Yet after a fine meal and plenty of wine, the diners didn’t seem to mind. Jessie had had the licence extended until midnight and as the bandleader announced the final waltz, she let out a sigh of relief, went into the kitchen to thank the chef and his staff for their hard work, and to tell them how successful it had been. She stood behind the reception desk as the guests left, and only then did she go to her office and drink her gin and tonic.

  Larry Forbes tapped on her door and walked in. He sat in a chair opposite her desk.

  ‘Well, that went even better than I expected. One or two men have spoken about holding business lunches here in the future, which is excellent. Would you like me to send to the kitchen for some coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you, I would appreciate it if you didn’t,’ she said, staring at him with a steely glint in her eyes. ‘The staff are on their knees, ready to go home. They’ve done enough for tonight!’

  ‘Very well, Mrs McGonigall! You made your point very clearly.’

  She rose from her chair. ‘I too am tired, Mr Forbes, so I’m afraid I am leaving. My bed calls. The bar is open for two hours tomorrow but after that the hotel is closed for the day. Happy Christmas!’

  As he walked with her out of the office, he asked, ‘What will you be doing, might I ask?’

  ‘I’m spending it with my neighbours, like last year.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, not quite like last year.’

  He didn’t know what to say, hearing the sudden emotion in her voice.

  ‘I’ll see you on Boxing Day, Jessie, and thank you for all your hard work.’

  She just nodded and walked to the lift, got in it and closed the door.

  Larry Forbes stood for a moment. Jessie would find tomorrow difficult, but he hoped her friends would be able to lift her spirits. He bade goodnight to the night porter and left the building.

  Jessie undressed, ran a bath, poured some salts in the water and stepped in. Lowering herself into the water, she lay with her head against the back, tears running down her face.

  The following morning, Jessie was soon up and ready for work. She went into the kitchen and cooked eggs and bacon, toast and coffee for her and the night porter. They sat together in the kitchen and ate.

  ‘This was most kind of you, Mrs McGonigall, but I could have done this and saved you the trouble.’

  She smiled at him as she poured the coffee. ‘I know, Tony, but I needed to be occupied; after all, I made my reputation as a good cook. I wanted to prove I hadn’t lost my touch.’

  ‘I can testify that you haven’t,’ he said as he tucked into his food.

  ‘But you can wash up!’ she said, laughing.

  Eventually, Jessie collected her suitcase packed with gifts and a change of clothes, put on her coat and hat and walked towards Union Street, her friends and her house. She’d sleep there tonight. But her first stop was at Daisy’s front door, where she tapped on it and waited.

  Her friend greeted her warmly with a hug and a kiss, then ushered her to a chair by the fire. ‘I’ll make a nice cup of tea,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Just grab a couple of glasses instead, love, I’ve got something much better!’ Jessie held up a bottle of whisky. ‘One of my satisfied customers sent it in to me for Christmas. It’s just what we need on such a cold day.’

  The two friends sat chatting, discussing food for Christmas, Jack and Tommy, the two children next door, Daisy’s sewing and her clients – everything but Conor, until Daisy took Jessie by the hand, looked at her intently and asked, ‘And how are you, Jessie? Really, I mean.’

  ‘Numb! If I’m honest, just numb. At the hotel, I’m kept busy, which is my saving grace, but at night, alone in my room … I’ll just be glad when the coroner says we can have the funeral, then I’ll have some sort of closure. At the moment everything feels unfinished, does that make any sense?’

  ‘Of course, it does. Now, then … is there anything you need next door? I’ve put some bread and butter in the larder and a couple of eggs. I thought you’d probably enjoy breakfast in the quiet tomorrow, before the day began and you could wake when you liked. Bill lit the fire earlier, so the place should be warm.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  He popped next door with a couple of gifts for the kids, but he’ll be back soon.’ She hesitated. ‘Once everything is cooking we will be going across the road to the pub when it opens, like always. Do you want to come with us, Jessie?’

  She knew this was a probability; after all, it was a Christmas Day ritual and she didn’t want to ruin anyone’s enjoyment. ‘Yes, of course I’ll come. Give me a call when you’re ready.’ Picking up her suitcase, she left her friend and went next door.

  The curtains were open and the fire was burning in the grate, but there was a musty scent in the air that lingers when a property is empty. It’s almost like a breath of despair from the house at being left unattended and unloved.

  Despite the cold, Jessie opened a window to let some fresh air in, then she went into the kitchen and did the same. Out of her bag she took a couple of cake boxes filled with petit fours and home-made biscuits, with gingerbread men for the children, a large pork pie made by the chef, for Daisy to help put on Boxing Day, and a bottle of white wine for the Christmas dinner. Then she unpacked two large kites she’d wrapped for the boys. Picking them up and the cake box, Jessie slipped out of her house and on to her other neighbour.

  Percy Williams opened the door and, inside the room, Jessie could see wrapping paper and gifts, in the midst of which were Jack and Tommy, looking flushed with excitement.

  ‘Auntie Jessie!’ they called at seeing her. ‘Merry Christmas!’

  ‘Merry Christmas to you, too. What did Father Christmas bring you?’ They both spoke at once showing her their presents, until she said, ‘Well, this is from me,’ and handed hers to them. The children tore off the paper and let out cries of joy when they saw the kites.

  ‘Dad, can we go and fly them now?’

  It was Jessie who answered. ‘Now listen to me, you two. Christmas Day is busy for parents, there’s so much to do, so you be patient because Mum and Dad need time to enjoy part of it too. There’s plenty of time for kite flying another day. In any case, there isn’t much wind about today.’

  Just after noon, Jessie, Daisy and Bill went across the road to the Builders Arms as they had done in past years on Christmas Day. They were all very aware of the missing person, who had yet to be mentioned. Bill and Daisy were reluctant to upset Jessie and so were unsure of what to say.

  This was soon solved by the customers in the bar who immediately came over to Jessie with their condolences, but what made it acceptable and eventually enjoyable was the first man who said, ‘That Conor, he got me into real trouble with my missus one year. He took me out and got me so drunk, I forgot her birthday!’ That was all it took. After that there were so many memories of the man who had earned so much admiration and affection from those he knew. It was indeed a kind of healing for Jessie and the heavy sense of loss she’d been carrying seemed lighter at the warmth of their words.

  Some of the men had worked with him in the docks and praised his ability as a stevedore and the way he handled his men, all agreeing Conor was a tough boss, but fair.

  Another chirped up with his own story. ‘I was in the cafe, Jessie love, the day that Conor walked in. I remember you telling him the food was simple as was the menu and if he wanted a posh place go elsewhere, or words to that effect.’

  Jessie roared with laughter. ‘So I did. Ah, but he had a way with him even then.’

  ‘I saw the way you flirted with him, Jessie McGonigall!’ As she went to argue, he pointed his finger at her. ‘Now don’t you dare deny it! I was there. I saw the way you tossed your head at him.’

  Jessie smiled softly. ‘I did, didn’t I?’ She looked at her accuser and grinned. ‘I tell you, it never failed, ever!’ She tossed her h
ead and her hair, which today was worn loose about her shoulders, swished like flames of fire in the wind.

  ‘I’d fall for that Jessie, that I would,’ called another and everybody laughed.

  The rest of the day went well and when, eventually, Jessie climbed into bed, she sighed happily. She’d been dreading today, the first Christmas without Conor, but instead it had been fun. People had such good memories of him, as she did. They were to be treasured, stored away for those days that were hard to handle. She settled down for the night and, as usual, she clasped his pillow to her and slept.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Christmas was over and at last Conor’s body had been released for burial, so Jessie could make arrangements for the funeral. Daisy accompanied her friend to the funeral directors. It was a soulless feeling, choosing a coffin, hymns for the service and talking to the vicar of St Mary’s Church about a man he’d never met.

  ‘How can you talk about a man you didn’t know?’ Jessie demanded. She was feeling aggrieved at this fact.

  ‘I do it all the time, Mrs McGonigall. It’s part of my job.’

  ‘But my husband was a special person.’

  ‘I’m sure he was. Perhaps you could write a few things about him for me to read before the funeral. I want to do him justice.’

  She nodded. ‘I’d like to do that. Thank you.’

  Jessie had returned to work on Boxing Day afternoon, but when she was at last free to book Conor’s funeral, she informed Larry Forbes, who had called into the hotel.

  ‘You’ll be pleased about that, I’m sure. Take whatever time you need. Are you having a wake?’

  She looked up at him and grinned. ‘Are you kidding? Conor was Irish, as am I. A funeral is to be enjoyed. It’s a celebration of a person’s life, so it is. It’s not a place for tears.’