The Other Side of Wonderful

by Caroline Grace-Cassidy

  “Docket down! Two stews for seven!” Maeve shouted through the hatch as Cara pushed her pen behind her right ear and hopped back into work mode for the rest of the lunch rush.

  Chapter 5

  “I love it!” Jenny Brophy beamed as she looked around the new function room, twirling backwards as she went. It was for a Christmas wedding and Cara was so excited to start work on it. Her first real wedding. It didn’t give her much time but she loved to work under pressure. That’s why she’d loved the waitressing work so much. They had done mock-up weddings in college but this was planning for real with real people and food and flowers and music. For some the most important day of their lives.

  “Do you want to wait another while and see if Max shows up?” Cara asked the bride-to-be, as her fiancé had been delayed.

  “Ah no, I mean he said it’s all up to me anyway so I think I’m happy to book it. He’s booked up with tennis lessons all day and he’s doing commentary on TV this evening for the Templeogue Tennis Tournament. I’ve always wanted to get married here, Cara, but didn’t think the function room would be available at such short notice since it was being renovated.”

  “It’s been closed for six weeks so we couldn’t take any bookings just in case it ran over – so you’re lucky,” Cara informed the pretty, over-excited girl.

  “As soon as Max uttered those words I knew I wanted to march him down the aisle fast. I’m not getting any younger and I want a big family.”

  Cara smiled at her and nodded even though she thought Jenny looked about fifteen.

  The function room with its impossibly high ceiling was freshly painted and redecorated in warm creams and browns with heavy gold drapes and cream tie-backs. There was space for ten round tables on the newly sanded-down original wooden dance floor, each sitting eight comfortably. The long wedding table sat under the bay window with an incredible view of the sea behind. It was a warm romantic room, perfect for an intimate wedding, and soon Cara would be decorating it for Christmas. She’d do it now if she had her way but Jonathan didn’t want Christmas pushed on the guests too early. “Some people hate Christmas, Cara,” he’d said. “It’s November so they don’t expect to be surrounded in tinsel with Bing blaring out, or Michael Bublé – not just yet.” She had nodded and backed down immediately.

  “I’m so excited!” Jenny was snapping picture after picture of the room on her iPhone. “Okay, then, let’s mark the diary, Bride-to-be!” Cara opened the large red book on December 3rd, the preferred date.

  “Oh I’m so, so, so excited! Sorry!” Jenny was beaming from ear to ear.

  “Don’t be sorry! So the Brophy and Burrows wedding it is then.” Cara marked the book and they shook hands. “Now I need to talk to you about the one-thousand-euro deposit and when the rest is due and all that yucky unromantic stuff – but how about over a warm drink in the bar?”

  “Sounds great.” Jenny snapped another few pictures and they left the room together. “Good morning, Jonathan.” Cara smiled at the manager as he pointed to a black mark on the floor beside the reception desk that was being dutifully attended to by Big Bob the handyman.

  “Morning, Cara, how’s everything going for you today?” Jonathan smiled warmly at her. The past couple of weeks had been a bit of a blur.

  “This is Miss Jenny Brophy – she has just booked her wedding with us for December the third,” Cara said proudly with her hand on the small of the other woman’s back. She knew that it was important for Jenny to trust her completely from the offset, otherwise the girl would be constantly worried and that would make Cara’s job so much harder. The timeframe was so short Cara needed everything to run smoothly.

  Jonathan smiled widely and shook her hand. “Fantastic. Cara will make it a day to remember, I have no doubt.”

  “Good for you, girl!” Bob smiled up from his bended knee as he rubbed at the mark with a white cloth.

  Cara showed Jenny into the lounge and ordered two coffees and a selection of assorted biscuits.

  “It’s got something special, this place, hasn’t it, Cara?” Jenny asked as the open turf and log fire crackled in the grate and they sank into the two soft leather seats in front of it.

  “It’s really beautiful. I’d love to get married here myself – maybe one day.” The words had left Cara’s mouth before her brain had even processed them.

  “Oh, aren’t you married?” Jenny looked slightly shocked.

  “No,” Cara said and shook a sugar sachet fiercely. “I’m divorced.”

  ***

  It was bitterly cold as Sandra took her lunch break beside the stables on one of the rustic picnic tables. She had to take a packed lunch to work with her now. Even with the staff discount she still couldn’t afford Delphine’s delicious homemade soup and homemade tomato bread which she used to devour in the bar area of the hotel. They really were penniless. She pulled the leather belt on her green Oasis coat tighter and pulled the collar up. She couldn’t find her scarf this morning and she was really feeling the cold. She opened her lunchbox and took out a rather pathetic cheese-spread sandwich and a small yogurt.

  “Lunch for a mouse?”

  Dermot Murray approached her and she had to laugh. She loved Dermot – he was so full of life. He was slightly weather-beaten but still very attractive with long blond floppy hair and twinkling green eyes – early forties, she knew, although she didn’t know his exact age. Hands like shovels. She had known Dermot almost all her life and she had often talked to him while growing up. She usually saw him in Hines of a Friday or Saturday night and she always went over to chat with him. Dermot never failed to have a smile and a word for Sandra. It had been ages since they had talked properly though.

  He was dressed today in his usual husky jacket, hat, cream jodhpurs and black riding boots.

  “Ah, you know how it is, Dermot – penny-pinching as usual!” She pushed up on the bench, gathering her black skirt under her, and made room for him.

  “Really?” He took off his riding hat and rubbed at his floppy blond hair. “I thought you were one of the fancy yuppies now up in the new builds?” He flicked under his nose with his index finger and smiled a great big smile. His eyes crinkled. Perfectly straight teeth.

  Sandra grinned back. “Well, I am, we are, but as I’ve no doubt you’ve heard around this village Neil’s lost his business – he had to close Darragh Electrics – there are no jobs and the last few months have been . . . well . . .” She couldn’t believe this was happening: she was welling up. She tried to swallow the tears but it made it worse as what happened next was an explosion of emotion that, judging by the look on Dermot’s face, was enormous.

  He grabbed her lunch box, shut it tightly and put his arm around her as he ushered her into the tack room of the stables. She sat under the racks of saddles and cried her heart out, the smell of saddle soap and hay filling her overworked nostrils. Dermot hugged her gently and said all sorts of comforting things she couldn’t really hear through her sobs. Eventually she managed to pull herself together.

  “I’m so sorry, Dermot, I am mortified. I don’t know what on earth came over me.” She blew her nose into the white soft tissue he handed her. “I don’t know what came over me,” she repeated and tried to stand up.

  “Shush, Sandy, sit still for a while and let me put the kettle on, will you?”

  She nodded and blew her nose again then leaned her head against the cold steel saddle-racks, inhaling the smell of leather and freshly laid shavings. What had she done? This was so embarrassing. She knew Dermot well enough to know he wouldn’t spread it around the hotel but she needed to cop herself on.

  Things at home were worse and she was finding the lack of time in her life totally draining. Neil was definitely up to something. She had called his brother Tom in his shop this morning just to say she was worried about the lack of work, but Tom told her he had enough problems of his own and to “tell the lazy fucker to get his big white arse out of bed and go work in McDonald’s”. So no help at all. As usual
. She had taken to sleeping in the spare room. There was no wallpaper on the walls in there and no curtains on the windows but it didn’t matter so much in November as it was dark at the time she got up and when she went to sleep. Neil never once asked her why she wasn’t in his bed.

  Dermot returned and handed her a chipped blue Royal Dublin Horse Show mug with the sweetest-tasting tea ever. She sipped it gratefully. “Thanks,” she said, smiling at him.

  He put his big hands around her still shaking ones, steadying the mug, and said, “Listen, I’m always here if you want to talk. I would do anything for you, but you already know that. However, we are under pressure now to get to the monthly staff meeting – you know what Big J’s like for timekeeping.”

  “Oh shit, the meeting, I forgot!” For some reason she suddenly did want to tell him everything. She felt so comfortable around him, always had. She sipped the tea. “Take me for a drink after work, will you, Dermot?” she almost whispered.

  “Sure, of course. I’ve a long hack out into Knocknoly woods and up the back mountain at four o’clock with six Australian guests but I’ll be back by six. Say I meet you in Hines – that be okay or would you rather somewhere more private?”

  “No, no, Hines is fine.” She drank some more of the comforting sweet tea and then handed him the cup.

  He held out his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her up gently. Then they made their way back into the hotel.

  ***

  “Okay, great, that’s everyone.” Jonathan discreetly glanced at his Tag watch as Dermot and Sandra entered the room. Her red-rimmed eyes were not lost on him. “So the meeting today as always is to communicate with one another. If anyone has any business now’s the time to share. Cara booked her first wedding today so bualadh bos for her!”

  Everyone clapped. Cara blushed and looked around the table. There were seven people here and she tried to see if she could remember their names and job descriptions. There was Jonathan – manager of course. Sandra who didn’t look herself today – head receptionist. Dermot – stable manager. Big Bob – handyman. Mike – bar manager. Tiffney – restaurant manager. Old Mrs Reilly – head of housekeeping. Yes. She was delighted with herself. She was getting to know everyone. She would ask surnames and try to get to know people individually as the days progressed.

  Old Mrs Reilly, as she was known, was a total character. She was probably in her seventies although Jonathan had mentioned she always said she was sixty-four so no one knew her actual age. “She’s been sixty-four for the last ten years, I think,” he had told Cara, laughing. She managed her bedrooms to the highest standard and she had a couple of local girls working alongside her. She had her hand up now.

  “Mr Redmond, I have asked Big Bob again and again this morning to please go up and change the light bulbs in sixteen and twenty-one. He still has not done this. I wonder if perhaps you could ask him as I feel he may be holding a grudge against me as I refused to go on a date with him. He wanted me to go up above to Dublin, to see the Pussycat Dollies at the O2 arena.”

  Everyone around the table laughed and the older woman buffed her slightly purple-tinted hair with her hand. She wore enormous silver dangly earrings and bright cerise-pink lipstick.

  “I did not ask you on a date to the Pussycat Dolls!” Bob raised his voice and pushed his large brown glasses high onto the bridge of his red-veined nose. “’Twas you who asked me to go and me a good Catholic man, and I don’t approve of filth like them girls, parading around in their undergarments – it’s disgraceful if you ask me! I hear they don’t even eat food – they eat pepper and water and maple syrup. I read the fancy magazines the guests leave lying around too, you know, Mrs Reilly.” He removed the glasses now and rubbed them viciously with the end of his white shirt.

  “Whatever you say, dear Bob!” Mrs Reilly winked at Cara. “Talk to the hand!” She clicked her fingers at him, raised her left hand and shook her head from side to side as he sat open-mouthed staring at her.

  Cara stifled a giggle.

  “In fact, you are correct, Bob,” Mrs Reilly went on. “It was only when I saw yer nose buried in the article about them in that English magazine and you devouring the pictures with yer eyes – well, I just presumed you were a fan of the girls.” She was smirking wildly now. “I happen to think they are terrific, fair play to them, that’s what I say! If I’d had the opportunity to dress in me knickers and bra and parade around Knocknoly in the fifties, I surely would have. I was quite the fox, you know – in fact I stopped the traffic.”

  “There was no traffic here in the fifties!” Big Bob snapped back. “You daft old bat!”

  “Thank you, Mrs Reilly, Mr Bedford.” Jonathan smirked despite himself. “Bob, what about the bulbs?”

  “Do them now, sir!” Big Bob answered and saluted, sliding his glasses back up his nose with his index finger.

  “Well, if Brad and Angie are quite finished arguing,” Jonathan laughed, “has anyone else anything work-related to discuss?”

  Mike spoke now. “Just to check with you, Jonathan. I spoke with the lovely Nicola Pawley at Diageo and she said she’d give us those extra coolers for the bar if we display product for one year. That okay with you?”

  “I’m okay with that as long as it’s not advertising those Alcopop thingies. I hate how they look and I don’t even like the message they send out – but if it’s Guinness or brand beer then that’s fine, Mike,” Jonathan said.

  Tiffney now raised her hand. She was Eastern European but Cara wasn’t sure yet from where exactly. She was very quiet and a really hard worker. Cara guessed Tiffney probably wasn’t her real name but maybe easier for working in Ireland.

  “Yes, Tiff?” Jonathan pointed to her.

  “Please, if I may, I need new covers for the bar and restaurant menus. The older ones are – what’s the word? – grotty – and I feel guests deserve nice covers. I have looked in Eason on the net in Sandra’s office and they do very nice ones for a good price. I will print out pictures and a price list and leave it in your office, yes?”

  Cara watched the other girl talk. She could be anything between twenty-five and thirty-five. She had sad eyes, limp hair and was hunched over. Her body language spoke volumes to Cara who was an expert on body language.

  “That’s fine, Tiff – you just go ahead. I trust you so just send me up the invoice.” Jonathan poured some water from the clear glass jug with sliced lemons on the table.

  Mike coughed and looked at Tiff before saying, “If you want, Tiff, I could drive you to the Eason’s on O’Connell Street up in Dublin and we could take a look round? Check the rotas when they come out on Friday and see if we have a slot where we are off together. Maybe grab a bite to eat while we are there? Show you some of the old country, ya know?”

  “Thank you, no. I will stay here, Mike.” Tiffney didn’t raise her eyes from her notebook.

  The young man just nodded and grabbed for the water jug.

  “Okay, so December will be on top of us before we know it,” Jonathan went on. “Cara is going to decorate the hotel, with Big Bob helping her. We now have a wedding to host as well as the Christmas programme so it’s going to be full-on. Bookings for Christmas are flying in, Sandra says, so that is great. If any of you have any ideas on your sections, please speak to Cara. I haven’t done the Christmas rota yet – I’m mulling that over still. The Christmas party will not be until the end of January, I’m afraid, as we will be just too busy. However, if we have a really good Christmas, I promise you a special treat. I’m always on your side so remember that, and we are all a team. There is a list in my office and on the staff bulletin board behind reception, of the different events we will be hosting. Cara will now be taking them over so liaise with her from now on. It’s a busy time. We don’t have a lot of staff because that’s the way I like it – a smaller ship sails quicker – so you all need to pull together. Any questions?”

  The table remained silent.

  “Okay then, thank you all for your time, my door
is always open and have a nice day.” Jonathan lifted his green folder and banged it gently up and down on the table before pushing back his seat and leaving the room.

  ***

  The hotel was busy today, Cara noted, as she made her way to the staff bulletin board which was in the small office behind reception. She needed to copy whatever was on it and to sit down and study it.

  Cara was feeling confident and optimistic. It was a feeling she was beginning to remember well. She caught sight of her reflection in the large mirror in the lobby. She had teamed her Stella McCartney suit with a tight pale-blue shirt from Gap and had stuck one of the small purple flowers from the garden in her lapel. Her red hair was pulled back in a slick high ponytail and she looked fresh and business-like.

  Sandra was already back at her post on reception and Cara smiled at her as she passed. There were no slackers in this job. Not like in The Law Top where she used to have to scream at the kitchen staff out the back to put out their cigarettes and come back in to work. All the time. She had begun to feel like a mother to some of them. There was no appointed bar manager for whatever reason so she had to pull her weight to get people to do their jobs. It drove her mad that she and Steve and Aoife and Maeve worked their butts off and the part-timers couldn’t give a damn. The staff at the Moritz were there to work.