Mr Tweedy’s face flushed crimson with rage when he took the phone call, a roast beef and mustard sandwich suspended halfway to his open mouth. He ordered Daniel’s locker to be forced open by the hotel handyman, and it was found to contain forty tins of Canadian salmon, twenty teaspoons, one hundred bars of lavender-scented soap and a silver-plated gravy boat. An investigation was launched, and the accounts were examined. It was concluded that Daniel Stanley had been stealing from the hotel for more than a year. The information buzzed through the building with feverish excitement. The female staff were nearly hysterical when they heard that Daniel Stanley was nothing more than a common criminal. They rushed home after work to tell their families all about it. Mrs Doherty, from the laundry-room, said that she always thought there was something fishy about the head chef. Nobody’s that perfect, she said, wisely.
Mr Tweedy had to sit at the bar and drink four brandy and ports to steady his nerves. His right eyelid twitched violently when he thought of the lovely painting of Portstewart Strand and Constance Delargy’s little clock, and God only knew how many tins of best Canadian salmon – all whisked away from under his large, purple nose by a man he would have trusted with his life.
When Daniel reported for work that evening, they were waiting for him in the staffroom. Mr Ivor Tweedy expressed his grave disappointment in his best chef, and dismissed him with immediate effect, and without references. It was all he could do not to punch Daniel Stanley square in the face, he said, but he was a religious man who did not believe in violence. He informed Daniel that he would not involve the police, in order to avoid a scandal, the Delargys being old friends of his. However, he would personally see to it that no other hotel in the country would give Daniel an interview. He knew all the hoteliers in Ulster, he shouted, and he would make sure that Daniel was not given alternative employment, not even in a back-street chip-shop!
The humiliated Daniel was swiftly escorted from the building by two sniggering doormen, one of whom whipped off his white chef’s hat, and closed the door in his face. He stood forlorn in the cement yard, beside the bins and the empty beer-kegs. It began to drizzle softly. For the second time in his life, Daniel Stanley was alone in the world.
For days afterwards, he sat brooding in his rented room on Palestine Street. Without references, he could not get another job. He had considerable savings, but nowhere near enough to set up in business on his own. Thank goodness he had the presence of mind to tell Mr Tweedy that he had gambled all his ill-gotten gains on the horses! At least he got away without returning the money. He studied his big blue eyes in the peeling mirror, and thought again of his lovely mother, Teresa – a beautiful woman who dreamed that her face would surely bring her good fortune.
Well, life had not been kind to Teresa. If it had, she would surely have come back for him. But there was more money about the city these days. Maybe there was a wealthy widow-woman or divorcee out there, who would be willing to share her earthly possessions with a charming companion?
And so, Daniel Stanley got himself done up in a new suit, an investment from Dodds & Sons of Chichester Street, and made his way to a fancy nightclub in the city centre, not far from the river. They were advertising a New Romantic night, whatever that was. Daniel thought it might attract revellers from the more select neighbourhoods of Malone and Cultra. His hand trembled as he handed over the five pounds entrance fee to a teenage doorman with two earrings in his left ear. He made his way to the bar and ordered a soft drink with ice and a slice of lemon. He leaned one elbow on the counter, struck a pose that he thought suggested worldly sophistication, and he waited. A spider on his web. Waiting for a juicy bluebottle.
Penny Muldoon was that bluebottle. She was waiting near the bar for her best friend, Millie, to arrive. She fell for Daniel the moment she laid eyes on him. She was wearing a new pair of shoes that crushed her toes together, but when she spied the mysterious stranger in the brilliant white shirt, the pain in her feet melted away. She felt as if her two legs were filled with fizzy lemonade and her heart began to batter like a whole regiment of drums. She thought the man at the bar had a look of Bryan Ferry about him, gazing into the middle distance with his ice-blue eyes. And he doesn’t even drink pints, she thought, as he sipped his tall glass of lemonade in a genteel way. A refined-looking, sober man. A rare enough sight in Belfast. And no sign of a girlfriend either. Or a wedding ring. Bingo!
Penny walked straight up to Daniel. He noticed a golden necklace glinting against her white throat. It said: Penny.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you waiting for anyone?”
Daniel looked at her necklace, which was catching the light.
“Penny,” he said. “Is that your name?”
“Yes,” she replied, forgetting the necklace, and thinking of the gypsy’s words.
“That’s a lovely name,” he said.
“Thank you. What’s yours?” She sat up on a high stool, beside him.
He was rigid with embarrassment, but he managed to stay calm. Some waiters from The Imperial Hotel had just come in and were standing near the bar, and he knew they were watching him. The woman was very young, about seventeen. He did not think she was rich enough or lonely enough to be of any use to him, but he put on his brightest smile, for the benefit of the watching waiters. He liked her name. It was a suitable name for the wife of a thrifty man like himself. The lights dimmed and the glitter-ball began to twirl. The music became louder. Daniel offered to buy the young lady a drink. It was either that, or he would have to ask her to dance. He had never danced in his life, and he was not about to start now, with his ex-colleagues looking on. Penny ruffled her hair and smiled and asked for champagne.
“Thank you, I just love champagne,” she said. “Although I must warn you, the bubbles make me quite giddy. I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new in town?”
“No,” he replied. “I was born and reared in the city. I just don’t go out socialising much, that’s all. I’m not much of a dancer, I’m afraid.”
They began to talk. By the time Millie came hurrying into the nightclub half an hour later, Penny was already in love.
The waiters, watching keenly, were amazed to see Daniel Stanley in a nightclub, all dressed up in a fancy suit. Brand new, by the look of it. Shiny shoes, fashionable haircut. A white shirt, open at the neck to reveal a golden chest, tanned by several months selling stolen goods in the open air. And talking casually to a pretty girl half his age. “It just goes to show you,” they said. “You never know what is round the corner.”
There used to be talk in the hotel that Daniel Stanley was not interested in women at all. That he might have leanings in the other direction. Why else would a man of acceptable appearance stay well away from the women, when other, plainer men spent all their waking hours in pursuit of the fairer sex?
“Isn’t life just full of surprises?” they said. “On the rob, for ages, he was. And got away with it, too. Old man Tweedy was too proud to go to the Peelers. No prison sentence for Daniel Stanley. Oh, no! And here he is, large as life, out romancing a real dish. Barely out of school, by the look of her. Lucky old dog!”
Daniel and Penny went to sit at a tiny, marble table, and the conversation moved up a gear. Millie had to sit with some other girls she knew, and watch helplessly while Penny flirted and batted her eyelashes at the older man. Millie was dying to meet Daniel, and ask him a few searching questions. Belfast was a small city, in many ways, and it made sense to know what you were dealing with from the start. It wouldn’t take long to find out everything there was to know about this new man. Where he went to school; where he worked; if he had any money, jealous ex-wives, or dependent children. Or a criminal background, maybe? Some men forgot to mention certain details to new lovers. But Penny did not wave her friend over to the table once that night. She had met the man of her teenage fantasies and she was not going to let him get away. She would not be able to seduce him with Millie looking on. Penny sat up straight and squared he
r shoulders, in order to make the most of a small bust, and she twirled her hair round her fingers and made plenty of eye-contact.
Daniel leaned over to hear what Penny was saying, and nodded a lot, and went to the bar for more drinks at regular intervals. Millie and the waiters watched, fascinated by the age-old courtship ritual taking place before them.
Penny did most of the talking while Daniel kept his eye on the door, looking out for a better proposition. Penny was telling him she had once met a film-star in a chip-shop in Blackpool. The man was so drunk, she said, that he could not get the money out of his pocket to pay for his supper, so the owner of the chippy let him have the meal for nothing. Daniel was not interested but he smiled. He was thinking that perhaps he ought to join a golf club, or enrol in a night class at Queen’s University. Where did the rich go to pass the time these days, he wondered.
Penny told him she did not usually approach strange men, but that she felt there was something special about him. Something dignified and old-fashioned. He was not interested, but he smiled. She told him that she was an only child, the daughter of elderly parents. And that she helped them to run the family business, a tea house on Mulberry Street. Muldoon’s Tea Rooms, it was called. Now he was interested. He knew the place. It was only a couple of streets away from his own humble bed-sit. A small, little place, it was. But well-placed in the middle of the student quarter; completely surrounded by young people away from home for the first time. Middle-class, most of them; they probably couldn’t even butter their own bread. Likely, the cafe was a proper goldmine. Daniel smiled his brightest smile and Penny’s heart turned over.
The DJ played a record that Penny loved. ‘Spend How Ballay’, he thought she said, was the name of the band. But it was Spandau Ballet, with a Belfast accent, he later learned. Some people had made their way onto the dance-floor and were beginning to make strange jerking movements, their arms raised in the air, as if playing invisible drums. Daniel thought one of the men on the dance-floor was wearing eyeliner, but he couldn’t be sure. And he counted twelve buckles on each of his black suede boots. What a carry-on, thought Daniel, in the middle of dear old Belfast! Well, it hadn’t harmed the man’s chances with the women: he was dancing with a real stunner in a velvet dress. Daniel watched them for a few seconds. The girl wore lots of silver bracelets on her bare white arms. They reflected the flashing lights on the ceiling. The dance did not look too difficult, Daniel thought, as he studied the bohemian couple.
His young companion was tapping her feet and nodding her head in time to the music. He asked her to dance. They stood up. Penny was tall and so was he. They looked well together as he led her out onto the floor. They stayed there for half an hour, and when the slow set began, Daniel slipped his arms round Penny’s back and her arms went round his neck in a gentle movement that was both tender and erotically charged. They were pressed close together like lovers, swaying together like professional dancers. Daniel whispered something into Penny’s ear and she laid her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes. The waiters were dumb with jealousy, and Millie knew she would have to find a new friend to trail round the pubs and clubs of The Big Smoke.
They married quietly. It was New Year’s Eve, 1982. Daniel was approaching thirty-one and Penny was just eighteen. There were only twenty guests at the wedding, all from Penny’s family circle. Daniel’s Aunt Kathleen was dead and gone, hopefully to better things. He had no other relatives. He kept his mother’s disappearance and his recent dismissal a secret. He told Penny that his late mother was called Kathleen, but that he did not go to visit her grave often as it upset him too much. He told her that his boss thought the world of him, and had given him as much time off for the wedding as he wanted. He invited none of his old friends from The Imperial. He said that he would not invite a coach-load of guests, when Penny’s father was paying for the whole thing. And he had so many friends, it would be hard to narrow it down. And what was the point, anyway? He was so in love with Penny, he would not care if they were all alone in the church. Penny was enchanted. He gave his bride a lovely painting of Portstewart Strand as a wedding present.
It rained all day. They drove in a convoy to a crumbling hotel in Portrush, on the north coast, for the reception. The small group posed for a photograph on the promenade, where a sudden gust of wind blew Penny’s hat over the railings and into the sea. The silk flowers on the brim turned a dark colour in the freezing water. The hat bobbed up and down for a minute and then sank quietly beneath the waves, like a wreath at a burial-at-sea. If she had been there, Brenda Brown would have pronounced it a bad omen but, as Penny’s wedding hat was going to its watery grave, Brenda, aged seven, was colouring in the patterns on her mother’s new wallpaper with a packet of permanent markers.
The dining-room in Portrush was draughty, but the small party put on a good show of merriment. They had home-made vegetable soup and soft bread rolls with butter curls, and then stuffed breast of chicken and creamed potatoes. The waitresses served baby carrots and cauliflower florets from stainless steel dishes, scraping the spoons loudly against the metal containers. Daniel let his eyes wander over the silver candlesticks, but he kept his hands under the table. Tiny bowls of sherry trifle and cream were served for dessert. The wedding-cake, with its pretty silver horseshoe decorations, was cut, and the teas and coffees were poured from scalding pots.
The speeches were short. Penny’s father coughed to hide the falter in his voice as he told the guests how much joy Penny, a surprise late baby, had brought to their lives. He said that he hoped that Penny and Daniel would be as happy all their lives as they looked on this day.
He then announced his intention to retire from the catering trade and give his beloved tea house to the happy couple as a wedding gift. There was a little flat above the shop, he said, which would suffice for living quarters until they bought a house of their own. Everyone clapped and cheered, and stood to drink a toast to the handsome groom and his blushing bride. Daniel put his arm round Penny and kissed her warmly. Penny’s father signalled to the band that it was time to begin the music and the dancing, and everyone stood and raised their glasses.
Daniel and Penny were jostled onto the floor and they began an unsteady waltz. Penny closed her eyes and was completely happy. Only months before, a fortune-teller in Bundoran had told her she would marry young. And here she was, swept off her feet by this gorgeous man. A mature man of thirty, she thought. Not an awkward boy her own age, trying to get the clothes off her on the first date, and not even looking at her face.
She was delirious with happiness. She could barely wait for the honeymoon to begin. Her bridesmaid, Millie, had warned Penny that it might be a good thing to wait a while, and get to know Daniel better before tying the knot. He was too good to be true, that’s what Millie said. But Penny knew that poor Millie was sick with jealousy. Millie’s latest boyfriend, Jack, worked in the shipyard and had a face that literally frightened small children.
Daniel was delighted with himself. He had hoped to be offered a position in the family business, and now he was being handed the whole thing on a plate. (Pardon the pun, he thought.) His ship had come in at last. He wondered if his father was still alive; maybe sitting on a rocking chair, on a porch somewhere in America, eating corn bread. He thought of Teresa, and he knew she would be proud of him. She would have enjoyed this party, everyone dancing so close to the sea. And he thought of his Aunt Kathleen, stern-faced and silent, still looking after her heavenly pennies, high above him in the darkening sky.
Chapter 7
A LADY IN A VELVET HAT
The night that Penny brought up the unfortunate subject of trying for a baby, Daniel slept in the spare room. He tossed and turned on the stiff mattress all night. He briefly considered giving in to Penny’s desire to reduce her working hours. But that would mean hiring new staff. And if Penny had more time off, she would only spend it looking at baby clothes in the shops, and begging him to give her a child. And if they had a new baby, what
then? She would want a new house to live in. A proper house with its own front door, and a garden with a swing. And maybe another baby to keep the first one company? That was the problem with women, they were always having ideas. They would be bankrupt in less than five years. He couldn’t support a family home and extra staff out of selling tea and sandwiches, no matter how hard he worked.
The next morning he brought Penny a cup of tea in bed and told her he would think about what she had said, hoping to buy himself some time.
“In the meantime,” he added, “we’d best go on as usual. Right, I’ll start the baking and you tidy up the cafe. I notice the floor could do with a wash.”
“Listen to me, Daniel,” she said, slowly, settling back on the pillows. “I’m not cleaning the cafe today, or ever again.”
“What?”
“Not ever. Do you hear me?”
“Have you gone mad?”
“I’m worn out and that’s the truth. Either a cleaner does it, or you can do it yourself. It’s up to you.”
“But I do all the baking!”
“I’m working eight hours a day from now on, and not a minute more. It’s my cafe too, you know! I’m entitled to some say in the running of it.”
“Is that so? Well, what are you going to contribute to the business, exactly?” he asked.
“I am going to start work at nine o’clock, and serve the customers and make the soup for lunch. Now, let me get back to sleep, or there’ll be ructions in this flat. If you want the floors done, you’d better shake a leg. I’ll not detain you any further.” And she finished her tea, lay down again and pulled the duvet up to her nose.
The Tea House on Mulberry Street Page 6