‘He’s probably got a stone in his shoe and can’t be bothered to take it out,’ Cathy said.
A few weeks later Josie came in at the back door to Cathy’s house before the girls and Mick had left for school. ‘I couldn’t wait to tell you, Cath, there’s a job for you. I’ve got to take you to see Mr Ireland this afternoon. Waiting on at functions with me. You’ll love it.’
Fortunately everything happened so fast that Cathy had no time to be nervous. They went to see Mr Ireland who was a thin, harassed-looking man who could only spare them a few minutes. Josie started to introduce Cathy but he interrupted her.
‘Yes, yes. As long as you vouch for her, that’s all right. There’s a job tomorrow night. See Mrs Nuttall. Wear a black dress and a cap and apron, Mrs Er – er. All right?’
He dashed away and Josie laughed at Cathy’s bewildered expression. ‘Don’t worry, he’s always like that – meeting himself coming back.’
‘Who’s Mrs Nuttall?’
‘She’s the supervisor. She’s the real boss. There was no need to go and see him, but he likes everything done properly.’
They went in next to see Mrs Nuttall and she gave them details of the job. It was a dinner at an imposing building in Mount Pleasant and Cathy felt extremely nervous when she arrived there with Josie the following night. She was wearing a black dress of her mother’s, and in a paper bag carrying a cap and apron borrowed from Josie.
It was only when all the arrangements had been made about the job, that Josie admitted that she had told Mrs Nuttall that Cathy was a silver service waitress. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do,’ she said airily. She had given Cathy a lesson in serving vegetables with a spoon and fork, using pieces of raw potato and some sprouts, but they had both collapsed in giggles at Cathy’s efforts. As she tried to grip the vegetables between spoon and fork, the sprouts shot into the air and pieces of potato flew across the table.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon pick it up,’ Josie assured her, but Cathy was overcome with panic as she followed her friend into the building. Her hands trembled as she took off her coat and tied the strings of the small white apron. Josie arranged the cap on her hair.
‘I’ll look after you, and the other women are good sorts,’ she whispered, but Cathy was not reassured.
They went into a side room where four women were sitting. Josie made the introductions. ‘This is my mate Cathy,’ she said. ‘This is Cissie, Doris, Bella and Janey.’
‘Your first time, girl?’ Cissie said. She was a small woman with a thin face and protruding teeth. Her cap, a strip of starched cotton with fancy edges, threaded through with black velvet ribbon, was perched at a rakish angle on her untidy hair.
Cathy nodded, unable to speak, but Cissie said scornfully, ‘Don’t worry over this lot. They’re only tuppence ha’penny toffs. They’ll be too busy wondering what knife and fork to use to take any notice to you, girl.’
For a moment Cathy thought she meant the other women, then she realized she was referring to the diners. Mrs Nuttall bustled in. ‘Put your cap straight, for God’s sake, Cissie. You look as though you’ve been on the ale.’ She noticed Cathy. ‘All right, love? Josie’ll show you the ropes, or ask me. Cup of tea now, girls, before we start.’
A van arrived, and boxes and baskets were carried in, and suddenly the small room seemed to buzz like a disturbed hive. In a flash, it seemed to Cathy, the dining tables were laid with linen and cutlery and glass, and Cissie had claimed her to help unpack baskets of crockery.
Before she had time to realize what was happening, the diners were seated and she was serving soup, with Josie and Cissie rapidly serving extra people to make up for her slowness. A serving dish of meat was thrust into her hands then snatched away by Josie. ‘Take the spuds, Cath,’ she said, and set off down a row of seats, followed by Cathy with the potatoes and Cissie with vegetables.
The potatoes were mashed which made them easier to serve but Cathy was uncertain how large the portions should be. Josie was too far ahead for her to ask but Cissie noticed her dilemma. ‘Give him a bit more, girl, he’s a growing lad,’ she said. That solved one of Cathy’s problems but she was worried that she was too slow and was keeping Cissie waiting behind her, but that lady was unperturbed.
Hot and flustered, Cathy whispered to her, ‘I’m sorry, Cissie.’
‘Don’t worry, girl. Take yer time. These aren’t going anywhere, are yer?’ she said to a man who looked round in surprise.
‘Er – no,’ he said, turning away quickly. Laughter bubbled up in Cathy and suddenly she felt that she could manage quite well. Josie had also noticed her friend’s dilemma and slowed down in serving the meat so that Cathy was not too far behind her.
The same frantic pace of activity continued in the kitchen. Very soon, it seemed to Cathy, the meal had been served, with Josie and Cissie like guardian angels beside her, showing her what to do and covering for her slowness or mistakes.
The diners moved to another room and the tables were cleared as swiftly as they had been laid. Cathy helped to pack the dishes into baskets then went to fold the tablecloths and collect cruets. Small silver dishes of sugared almonds had been placed at intervals down the tables and few of the nuts had been eaten, so Cathy was surprised when Cissie handed her several empty dishes to take back with the tablecloths.
The dessert had been a rich chocolate cake and Cathy watched in amazement as Cissie cut a tiny slice from a whole cake and crammed it into her, especially as there were several cut cakes on the side table.
When a young man arrived to supervise the packing of the unused food she saw the reason for Cissie’s action. Several whole cakes were packed away and the young man looked at the cake that Cissie had cut.
‘Good God, look at the bit out of that,’ he said.
‘A man just asked for a taste, Mr Owen,’ Cissie said glibly.
‘Aye, and pigs might fly,’ he said. ‘All right, girls?’
He pulled a bag from his pocket and handed out the wages. Four shillings for each woman and something extra for Mrs Nuttall.
‘The carrier’ll be here in a minute,’ he said. ‘Good night, girls.’ He departed, and Cathy saw the reason for the small cases the other women used to carry their caps and aprons. The leftover rolls and fragments of cheese were shared out, and the chocolate cakes that had been cut into were divided between them.
Cathy had taken her cap and apron in a paper bag but Cissie found another bag and put Cathy’s share of the spoils in it. ‘You’ve got kids, haven’t you?’ she asked, and when Cathy nodded her hand went under her apron and then into the bag too quickly for Cathy to see what had happened.
When she reached home she found a pile of sugared almonds at the bottom of the bag, and Josie told her that Cissie had also given some to her.
‘I didn’t tell you about the loot, Cath,’ she said, ‘because it would’ve looked bad if you’d seemed to expect it – if you’d taken a case the first time – but it’ll be all right now.’
The children enjoyed the cakes and sweets and Cathy took some to her parents. Her father laughed heartily when she told them about Cissie.
‘The quickness of the hand deceives the eye,’ he chuckled. ‘She could’ve made a living as a conjuror.’
‘She was awful good to me, and so was Josie,’ Cathy said. ‘I’d have been in a right mess if they hadn’t helped me the way they did. All the women were nice. They all mucked in with one another and we had a good laugh. Cissie’s a comedian.’
Later Lawrie said to Sally, ‘I saw you give me an old-fashioned look when I laughed about that food, Sal, but I reckon those women are entitled to it. Four bob for working all those hours! I wouldn’t say anything to Cathy about being exploited, though, because she’s made up with the job.’
‘It’ll be a help for her and a change from the house too,’ Sally said. ‘I’m not worried about the food either. It’d be thrown away otherwise and the boss seemed to know about it.’
The four shil
lings Cathy received provided the meal for the following day, and extra fruit, and she looked forward eagerly to the next job.
Within a few days a postcard arrived for her, saying briefly, “Please be at Horton Lodge, Meadowsweet Lane, at 2 p.m. on Tuesday”. Cathy hurried to see Josie and found that she also had received a card.
‘It’ll probably be a tennis party,’ she explained. ‘I haven’t been there before but I think some of the others have.’
Cathy enjoyed that job too and found the serving less nerve racking.
They served strawberries and cream to players and guests, and a selection of tiny sandwiches and delicious fancy cakes. The sun shone and everyone seemed happy, and Cathy felt that she was seeing another side of life as she served tea in the marquee on the lawn of the mansion, and to older people who sat on the terrace. The women joked lightheartedly as they worked, and Cathy felt that she had been quickly accepted by them.
Cissie was the comedian of the group, but she was kind-hearted too and had evidently decided to take Cathy under her wing. Cathy had provided herself with a small case, and at the end of the day it contained not only her cap and apron but also a basket of strawberries and a large medicine bottle full of cream, and a selection of sandwiches and fancy cakes.
Cissie had provided the medicine bottle and packed Cathy’s case, handing it to her with a wink and a stage whisper of, ‘You’ll soon get to know the ropes, girl.’ The sandwiches and cakes were rather squashed when Cathy unpacked the case but they were thoroughly enjoyed by the family. They enjoyed the strawberries and cream too, and as Kate finished her portion she closed her eyes and sighed.
‘When I grow up I’m going to live on strawberries and cream,’ she announced.
A memory pricked Cathy and a cloud came over her happiness for a moment. She remembered her sister Mary announcing her plans for a future life of luxury when she was still a child, and thought of the unhappiness her ambitions had brought her. Was Kate going to follow the same path?
Not if I can help it, Cathy thought. We’ll just have to be careful not to spoil her because she’s the baby, and as soon as she’s old enough I’ll warn her about these ideas.
Cathy had again received four shillings for the job and it was a great help with her housekeeping. She told her friend how grateful she was to her for recommending her, but Josie said she had been glad to do it.
‘I know what a help the money’s been to me,’ she said. ‘It’s only four bob, but you get it in your hand, no waiting, and very often it buys the dinner for me. Mind you, Cath, some weeks there might be nothing, and then another week you might get three jobs. There’s usually a lot round Christmas, Cissie told me.’
‘She’s a case, isn’t she?’ Cathy laughed. ‘But awfully kind.’
‘She doesn’t give a damn,’ Josie said. ‘No matter who the people are. She dropped a sprout on the Bishop of Liverpool once, and she just said, “Sorry, cock,” and wiped his sleeve with her cloth before she went on serving. Mrs Nuttall was having a fit. She gets the jobs, though, because she’s a gear worker, quick as a flash.’
‘She’s been very good to me, and so have you, Jose.’
‘What does Greg think about you working?’ Josie asked.
‘He only said he didn’t want me to get too tired. He knows I enjoy it, and the money’s so handy. We have a good laugh when I tell him some of the things that go on.’ She said nothing to Josie of how careful she was to stress that the money she earned only put jam on the bread he earned for his family, in case his pride was hurt.
She knew that her father had never felt diminished by the fact that her mother’s sewing had provided part of the family income, but then her father never held the orthodox view. Cathy felt that her care for Greg’s pride might be unnecessary, but she knew how easily he could be hurt and that most men were ashamed if their wives needed to work.
As Josie had warned Cathy, the postcards announcing a job came irregularly but they were always very welcome and the family learned to look eagerly for the “Please be at’s”, as they were christened.
Cathy was very happy at this time. The extra money made many small treats possible for all of them, and life seemed to be flowing smoothly.
Even the tension between Greg and John was less evident, although it still showed itself in small ways. After the first of Cathy’s jobs she had been excited but tired and Greg had taken her coat and pushed the armchair forward for her. He had turned to get the stool for her feet, but John had been before him, lifting Cathy’s feet on to the stool and easing off her shoes.
Not an important incident but made so by the challenging look John had given his father. Cathy had hastily made a joking remark about the fuss they were making of her.
Thankfully such incidents were rare nowadays, especially as John was either up in his room studying or out playing cricket and Greg was spending so much time on the allotment. Lawrie was often with him and Sarah liked to go there, but Greg insisted that Lawrie did only the very lightest tasks.
‘Just tell us what to do, and Sarah and I can do it,’ he said. ‘You’re the one with the green fingers.’
‘Sarah’s got a knack for gardening too,’ Lawrie said. ‘She’ll soon be telling us both what to do, won’t you, love?’
‘Oh, no, Grandad. I like gardening but I don’t know all about it like you,’ Sarah said seriously. Greg and Lawrie exchanged a smile, careful not to let Sarah see.
‘I think you’ve inherited a love of flowers from Grandad,’ Greg said. ‘Another few years, love, and you’ll be working among them all day.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Sarah said, but her father and grandfather both told her not to wish her life away.
Sarah had grown tall and her resemblance to her grandmother was even more marked, although her hair was darker than Sally’s had been. Sarah’s hair was obstinately straight and resisted Cathy’s attempts to curl it, but it was a true chestnut colour – ‘Like my conker,’ Mick had said – and thick and shining with health.
She still went to the flower shop whenever she could but she had less free time now. Since living in Egremont Street she had made many friends and there were always games to play. All the girls were expected to help their mothers in the house, and Sarah was a great help to Cathy. She was quick and deft and seemed to enjoy housework, which was invaluable to Cathy now that she was so often out working for the caterer’s.
Sometimes Cathy’s jobs involved travelling to the Wirrall or to Southport, which meant that she was often out all afternoon and early evening. She knew that some of the women she worked with would have to return to an untidy house and piles of unwashed dishes, and take up the burden of housework immediately, no matter how tired they felt, but she was more fortunate. When she returned, Greg and Sarah between them would have ensured that the house was orderly, the dishes washed and put away, and a welcoming cup of tea was ready for her.
Chapter Twelve
The last outdoor job of that summer was at a large house in Southport where a charity garden party was held. The film star Daisy Duval was invited to open the garden party and Sarah listened eagerly to her mother’s account of the star’s clothes and the speech she had made.
Cathy unpacked her case which held several small pots of jam as well as egg and cress sandwiches and cakes, and put some of the food to one side for her mother.
‘Take this over to Grandma, Sarah,’ she said. ‘I’m too tired to go over there tonight, but I’ll see her in the morning. You’re a good girl to have everything so nice for me.’
As soon as Sarah left, Cathy turned to Greg, her eyes sparkling. ‘Oh, Greg, we had such a good laugh but I couldn’t tell you while Sarah was here. You know we got the train to Southport. Well, there were two journalists in the carriage with us, going to the garden party because of Daisy Duval.
‘When we went through the tunnel at Moorfields it was all dark, of course, and Doris leaned over and ran her hand up Cissie’s leg. Cissie thought it was one of the journalists, and
you should have heard her!’
Cathy began to laugh helplessly at the memory and Greg laughed with her. She wiped her eyes. ‘Oh, Greg, those poor young men. She ranted and raved and told them she was a respectable married woman and just because she came out to work they needn’t think they could take liberties with her. The two men were looking at each other, each thinking that the other one had done something awful, and Cissie was threatening them with her husband.’
‘With Bert?’ Greg said, laughing.
‘Yes. I forgot we’d met them that day in town. You know the size of him. I was laughing at the idea of him tackling these hefty young men, but at the same time I was indignant. It was only when we got off the train and Cissie was still going on that Doris told her she’d done it. The men had dashed off as fast as their legs would carry them, and they kept out of our way all day.’
‘A monstrous regiment of women,’ he laughed. ‘You’re seeing another side of life with these jobs, Cath.’
‘I’m seeing the lives some posh people have,’ she said. ‘But I suppose you mean I’m getting to know people like Cissie as well. They’re good women, Greg. They might be a bit tough but they’re really good-hearted and we always have a good laugh.’
‘So do I when I hear the tales,’ he said. ‘When you’ve had a rest, why don’t you go over and tell your dad that story? It’ll cheer him up before he goes to bed.’
Cathy’s smile faded. ‘Yes, I think I will. I never thought I’d have to cheer Dad up, but he can’t seem to throw this off, can he?’
‘He will,’ Greg comforted her. ‘The effects of shingles can last for a hell of a long time, you know.’
As Greg had predicted Lawrie laughed heartily at Cathy’s tale, and Sally smiled too, but more because she was pleased to see Lawrie laughing, Cathy suspected, than because she appreciated the joke. They were all worried about Lawrie. Some of his strength had come back after his illness but all the fire seemed to have gone from him.
There is a Season Page 15