She had little time to ponder things any further before the phone rang again and Mr Hall was back on the line. “Does tomorrow evening suit you after work, Angela? Major Harrington has some business in town and he suggests you could meet up in The Gresham Hotel in O’Connell Street around half past five. How does that sound to you?”
She thought quickly. What did she have to lose? If she didn’t like the major or like the sound of the work, then she would just have to think of a reason to turn the position down. But if she didn’t give it a chance, she might never know what she could miss. “That sounds fine to me, Mr Hall,” she said. “And thank you for thinking of me.”
“As I said earlier, Angela, you’re a great worker and I’m happy to recommend you.”
“Thank you,” she said again, delighted to hear what he thought of her work. She suddenly thought. “Will you tell Major Harrington that I’ll be inside, sitting at one of the tables and I’ll be wearing a blue outfit.”
“I will pass those details on, Angela.”
It was only after Mr Hall had hung up that Angela realised that she hadn’t asked what her prospective employer looked like. She supposed it didn’t matter – he was obviously an older man and probably a bit like Mr Hall and the other directors who she had met on numerous occasions over the years.
When Angela walked into the lounge in The Gresham, she spotted an empty table in the corner with a sofa and two chairs, and she walked across to it. She sat down, slipped the long floral scarf from around her neck, carefully folded the silk material, then laid it down on the sofa beside her. She then unbuttoned her pale blue linen coat.
Although it was warm in the lounge, she decided to keep the coat on as it was more formal and suited to an interview. Left opened, it revealed part of the matching, sleeveless dress which had a white bow positioned beneath her breasts. Her outfit was classic without being old-fashioned, and it was not as outrageously short or modern as some of the styles that were now being sported around Dublin. She was surprised that some of the more abstract prints that were now appearing in the windows of Clery’s and Switzer’s – were beginning to grow on her. But the short styles, she knew, were something that she could never wear.
She reached up to pat the back of her dark, pinned-up hair, checking that no stray wisps had escaped from her neat chignon. She had no hat with her today, as she didn’t wear them quite so often as she used to. They were less fashionable these days – and she preferred the freedom of not wearing one.
She sat back in the tapestry-covered sofa, her manicured hands joined in her lap, then she casually looked around the half-filled room. Her slow entrance now would be almost forgotten, and anyone who had stared as she came in would have gone back to their own business. She hated herself for even caring what other people thought, but it was entrenched in her.
A handsome young waiter came towards her now, and she could tell by his confident, almost cocky approach that he had only just spotted her. She could always tell the difference between those who had only seen her sitting down and those who had seen her moving around.
“Good evening, madam,” he said. “Would you like a menu?”
She glanced down at her gold watch – a gift from her parents for her sixteenth birthday. “I’m waiting on someone, and we won’t actually be eating.”
She lifted her eyes and caught him staring straight at her. His look was so obviously admiring that she had to stop herself from smiling. It was nothing new. Men always stared at her. She could not deny that her face had helped her on many occasions – especially as a child – but there were times when she found it had also been a hindrance.
The waiter bent towards her now. “Would you like anything to drink while you’re waiting, madam?”
She smiled politely at him and said she was fine and would wait until the other person arrived. He went off to attend to people on the other tables and Angela sat back on the sofa and checked her watch again. It was now gone half past five and there was no sign of Major Harrington. She wondered now if she was doing the right thing having agreed to this interview. What if she took an instant dislike to him – and then was offered the job?
And even if she thought he was just okay, it would mean living in the house in very close proximity to him. Perhaps eating with him and possibly travelling around. She realised she would have to think things over very carefully, before deciding.
Several lone men came into the hotel foyer, but none of them glanced around the way people do when they are meeting someone they are not sure of. Then, she saw the young waiter heading towards the door and a few minutes later she saw him walk back in with another man. He was casually holding his tray to his chest whilst chatting with the man who was around average height and of a slim build, dressed smartly in a pinstripe suit. He had greying hair, slightly receding at the temples. He was, Angela thought, not particularly good-looking, but there was something distinguished about him.
Angela wondered if it could be Major Harrington. As they came closer she estimated him to be in his fifties – not much younger than her parents’ age – which was younger than she might have imagined someone who was writing their memoirs, and with the title of major, might look. The waiter and the man then stopped dead for several minutes, talking animatedly to each other. Then, the waiter put his tray between his legs to fish out his notepad and pen and write something down. When he had finished the older man said something and they both began laughing quite loudly, causing people to look around at them. Angela wondered if they were friends, but thought it odd that the waiter would behave that way when he was supposed to be working.
Then, the man in the suit consulted his pocket watch and his expression suddenly changed. He said something to the waiter and then both their heads swivelled in her direction. As they came walking towards her, Angela realised that it looked as though this was indeed her intended employer. As her heart started to beat faster, she took a deep breath to steady herself and shifted her gaze to the right-hand side of the foyer as though she hadn’t noticed them.
They came to a halt at her table.
“Excuse me, my dear,” the man said, smiling at her, “am I correct in assuming that you are Miss Tracey?”
She turned towards them now as though surprised. “Yes,” she said, “I am indeed.”
“I must apologise,” he said, “for being late. I met a neighbour outside and we got talking and I quite lost track of time.” He gestured towards the waiter. “And then Tony and I got into a discussion.” He reached his hand out. “I’m Edward Harrington. And again – my apologies for keeping you waiting.”
“Oh, there’s no need – I haven’t been here long,” Angela replied. She went to stand up.
“No, no,” he said, coming round the table towards her. “Please don’t stand up.”
They shook hands and then, still standing, he turned to the waiter. “I’ll have the usual, Tony, and whatever Miss Tracey would like.”
The waiter lifted his notepad and wrote down the order, saying aloud, “A large gin and tonic.” He looked at Angela and grinned at her. “I didn’t know who you were waiting for. Major Harrington here is a very good customer of ours. I served him the very first day I started.”
“You certainly did,” the major said, “and very efficient you were.”
Tony winked at Angela, as though they were fellow conspirators. “We’re always delighted to have the major here.”
“Thank you, Tony,” Major Harrington said, smiling, but with a slight tone of dismissal in his voice. “Now, Miss Tracey – would you like to join me in a gin and tonic or would you prefer a glass of wine or perhaps something else?”
Angela hesitated – she had expected him to order tea or coffee.
He looked from Angela to the waiter and smiled. “It’s Friday after all. Time to relax at the end of the week for those working their way through from a Monday. Don’t you agree?”
She looked back at him and something in his eyes made her realise that he
r answer would carry some weight – and might determine whether she got the job or not. She couldn’t say why – but his jollity and openness, and the way he had been with the waiter made her suddenly realise that there was something she already liked about him. Made her realise that she actually wanted this job.
“You’re right about it being Friday,” she said, smiling now, “and I would be very happy to join you in a gin and tonic.” When she saw his face light up, she knew she had made the right choice.
“Splendid, splendid!” he said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Now, Tony, you can make that two gin and tonics with the usual lemon and ice.”
As the waiter went off with the order, Major Harrington settled himself in the chair opposite her. “I’ve heard some very complimentary things about you and your work, Miss Tracey. I believe you have certificates in shorthand and typing and bookkeeping, and are generally very efficient. Would that be correct?”
“Well, I do have certificates, plus general experience in running an office on my own.” She thought for a few moments. “My typing speed is around seventy words per minute.”
“Seventy words per minute?” he repeated. His eyes narrowed as he considered the information. “Well, that sounds top notch – excellent. And how are your skills at accounting? I’m afraid mine are rather lacking, and if I’m not careful I tend to get behind with household bills and the like. I really need someone to take over that end of things.”
“Well,” Angela said, “I have been running the Polio Fellowship office accounts, things like the electricity and heating...” She paused to think. “Paying the coalman, the company that provides the office stationery, the petty cash...”
“Excellent,” Major Harrington said. “Just the sort of thing I was thinking of. We have the tradesmen like the butcher and the coal delivery service and the dry cleaner’s. I’m sure you know the sort of thing that makes running a household efficient, and my housekeeper is very good and will help out.”
Angela thought of Mary Ellen Mooney now and the great work she had done over the years for their own family. She organised lists for the butcher shop, the baker’s and paid electricity bills for them, dry-cleaning and that sort of thing. It wasn’t at all comparable with running a big house in Ballsbridge, but it gave her an idea of what to expect.
“My family have a shop and public bar, and I’ve helped out there when I’ve been home.”
“And where exactly would that be?” he enquired.
“Tullamore, in Offaly.”
“Ah...” Major Harrington said, “Offaly indeed.” He pondered it for a few moments, which led Angela to believe it was an area he wasn’t too familiar with. Then he suddenly said, “I have an old chum somewhere outside Birr, haven’t seen him in yonks. I wonder how he’s doing?”
Angela wasn’t sure if he was asking her or talking to himself, so she stayed silent for a while and when he did not elaborate any further, she leaned forward and said, “I should have mentioned that my shorthand is over one hundred words per minute, and I’m also a qualified audio-typist.”
He looked at her, beaming. “What can I say? You have a multitude of talents. Exactly what I’m looking for!”
Angela caught her breath, and then waited for him to elaborate on important elements of her new job, and perhaps ask her more questions. It all seemed somehow too easy to her.
“I’ve just thought of something...” His face became animated. “Isn’t Tullamore the town that had half the thatched houses burned down by a hot-air balloon?”
“Yes,” Angela said. “It is.” She remembered learning about it in her history lessons in school. “I think over a hundred houses were damaged.”
“Fascinating! Who would think that such an inconsequential place in the Midlands of Ireland would have a hot-air balloon crashing down in the eighteenth century?”
She shrugged and smiled. “It is surprising, isn’t it?”
“Tell me,” he said, “do you know where the balloon was actually going? And where it had taken off from? After hearing that story I’ve often wondered about the circumstances.”
Angela regarded him now, thinking that his smiling face and his enthusiasm about the hot-air balloon reminded her of a young boy.
Before anything more was said, Tony appeared at the table with the tray holding the drinks. He set a small frilled white mat on the table and placed what looked like a very large bulbous wineglass on top of it. He then turned to Major Harrington and placed a similar glass in front of him. He then poured Angela’s tonic water into her glass, and then started to do the same with the major’s until he was halted when the bottle was still half-full when the major held his hand up saying, “Good man – we won’t drown it.”
The waiter immediately did as he was bid and put the bottle back on the table. “Is that everything?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
“For the time being,” the major said. Then, after Tony had gone to serve another table, he lifted his glass and held it out to Angela. “Here’s to our success as a good working team.”
Angela quickly lifted her glass and touched it against his. “Does this mean I have the position?” she asked.
He took a gulp of his drink. “Of course you do!” He said it with some surprise and then he smiled broadly at her. “I thought that fact was already quite clear. Your credentials are first class and you come highly recommended. And you seem a very personable young lady. The job, my dear, is yours.”
“In that case,” she said, “I am delighted to accept.” She lifted her glass and took a drink from it. The gin tasted stronger than she had expected, but the lemon and ice made it refreshing. She waited then took another drink and it tasted better. She sat back on the sofa. “I believe the main reason you need a secretary is that you are writing your memoirs. You must have had an interesting life.”
He nodded. “I have had a very varied life in many ways – and I would like to get it all down in print for those in the family who follow me. Not my own children, of course...I’ve never been married, you know, and my only brother died young.” He took a long drink from his glass. “I can’t say I didn’t have my opportunities, but nothing ever really worked out in the conventional way, as it did for some of my family. I spent twenty years escaping life and responsibility in the army, and that naturally isn’t conducive to relationships. And then, when I was discharged, I discovered that I missed the daily routine – was institutionalised, so to speak. Not surprising after years of boarding schools – but that, as they say, is another story.” He smiled at her. “Of course I found it hard to settle into anything, so to escape that feeling of being displaced, I travelled extensively. I enjoyed most places but there comes a time when you have to come home – wherever home is at that point. Time and years just pass without you really knowing.” He took another drink and then his gaze shifted across the foyer and off into the distance.
Angela sipped her drink, quite startled by the sudden change in her circumstances, and how she had accepted the post without asking for time to think about it or talk it over with someone else. And yet, she had a feeling that had she stalled for more time, she might find the opportunity drifting away from her. When would such a chance come her way again?
It was highly unlikely that it ever would. If she turned it down through fear of change in both her work and living situations, it would undoubtedly become one of those episodes in her life that she would look back on and regret – always wondering what might have been. And while she was much younger than Major Harrington, she could understand what he meant when he had said about time drifting away.
She gave him a sidelong glance now, still trying to work him out. All the years in hospital, often amongst strangers, had taught her about the range of human nature. He was, she had already ascertained, a peculiar sort of man – not just because of his slightly odd looks, or because of his upper-class manner – but odd in himself. And whilst she was intrigued and almost entertained by his forthright ways,
she still did not really know what to make of him. She had never met anyone of his age who had been so open about their life so quickly, but she reasoned that was probably because she was going to be privy to all these things when she started typing up his memoirs.
Major Harrington turned back towards her now. “How soon do you think you can start?”
“How soon would suit you?” she asked.
“I think in the next few weeks. However long it takes you to detach yourself from the Polio Fellowship office and your lodgings. I know these things can be tiresome, having to wait until someone else is ready to step into your shoes.”
“I don’t honestly know how long it will take,” Angela said, “but I’ll let the office manager know on Monday.”
“Splendid! I’ll get Mrs Girvin or Eileen to air out your rooms in Moorhill House, and have everything ready for your arrival.” He smiled at her. “I believe your current accommodation is rather cramped?”
Angela nodded her head. “Yes, and it can be noisy at times...”
He looked at her now – she felt almost studied her.
“You strike me as a young lady who would prefer peace and quiet – and maybe more privacy?”
“Yes,” she said, “I would.”
“Well, you will have all of that working with me. And time off for yourself. I suppose you go back down the country to visit your family regularly?”
“Mainly at the holiday times,” she said. “But I have an aunt in Dublin who I visit often.”
“The work you would be doing for me wouldn’t require much walking, it would mainly be sedentary. You would be sitting at the desk typing, reading through documents and books for research, using the phone, and of course the household accounting and so forth.”
She presumed he was referring to her bad leg, but she decided not to embarrass him by making an issue of it. “That all sounds fine,” she said. She was waiting for a suitable opportunity now to bring up the subject of wages. So far nothing had been mentioned, and she was slightly anxious about losing money if her living costs at the house were higher than she was currently paying, and were deducted from her pay.
A Letter From America Page 24