Dorothy had prepared a single outfit for Jo. It hung on a padded hanger in her dressing room and Jo stared in awe at the full length dress. A deep red velvet bodice laced at the back with soft marabou feathers off the shoulder. The scarlet fitted silk skirt fell into a fishtail train.
“I’m not so sure Dorothy, it looks terribly tight.” Jo touched the lacing and frowned. “The colour will clash with my hair…”
“Shall we just slip it on Dear?” Dorothy helped Jo. She laced the bodice then held out a pair of scarlet silk court shoes.
“Try these too, come out when you’re ready.”
Hattie was still twirling and tried various evening bags against her dress. Dorothy selected a clutch bag that matched perfectly.
Jo stepped out and they both turned.
“Holy Mother of Mary…” Hattie gasped.
“Walk round and see how you feel in it, have a look in these mirrors.” Dorothy stood to one side so that Jo could see her image.
It was incredible.
The dress fitted like a glove and gave Jo a perfect hour glass figure. The colour warmed her skin and toned the highlights in her hair.
“It’s fabulous Dorothy.” Jo whispered.
“I’m beginning to feel like one of the Ugly Sisters…” Hattie stared at the dress.
“Don’t be so silly – you look beautiful!” Jo pulled Hattie to her side and they looked at their reflections.
“Well Cinders,” Hattie smiled. “You most certainly shall go to the ball!”
“Put them on my account Dorothy.” Jo turned to Hattie and smiled. “Now if we could just find a couple of Prince Charmings…”
* * *
Greg was unhappy, things were definitely not going to plan. The hotel seemed to be having a mini boom - he couldn’t even park there some days when he went to collect Thomas. He sat at the kitchen table in the flat and with a sigh, opened the Westmarland Tribune.
The local rag was full of the same old rubbish, best cake at the Women’s Institute, a rosette for prize wining long-horn cattle at the agricultural show. He yawned and flicked idly through the paper. Celebrate the New Year, Kirkton House Gala Ball… What was this? Greg read on. He became angry as he digested the advert. A Ball? What the hell was she doing now? Dancing? Late bar? He closed his eyes as he imagined the till ringing all night. The odds were narrowing. Didn’t she know there was a recession out there? As if anyone was going to spend that sort of money on a night out in the middle of a village with some naff pork pie buffet and a few paper chains and crackers! He pushed the paper away.
Estelle was out at work. She’d picked up an evening job at the Butterly Arms Hotel where the owner said it was good to have someone bi-lingual on the staff, although Greg couldn’t for the life of him see that there was much call for Spanish conversation in Butterly. She was bringing in a tidy amount these days. He stared at the shiny shoes piled by the bedroom door and a new coat on the peg. Makeup was strewn over the dresser.
Greg thought about Jo. She was pleasant to him these days, but never spent any time with him, she seemed too busy. His attempts at conversation went in vain. It was all backfiring. He pulled the paper towards him. An idea began to form… New Years Eve - what better time to romance someone? Everyone went daft on New Years Eve and made promises as the clock struck twelve. He searched the advert for the price of the tickets. They weren’t cheap. He’d get Estelle to order some for the Butterly Arms. Hattie would say they were full if he called the hotel. The price of a new frock and a night out should encourage Estelle to sort it out. He wondered where he could hire a dinner suit and returned to the paper to scan the classifieds.
* * *
Robert unlocked his office door. He turned the radiator up by his desk and sat down in his comfortable old leather Captain’s chair. His secretary was now on holiday for two weeks. They seemed to take so much time off over Christmas these days. It would be the New Year before she was back. Still, there wasn’t a great deal happening in the property market, it wasn’t as though he’d miss her.
He’d certainly miss Jo though.
Robert stared at a letter on top of the pile on his desk. The header read Capital Country Houses – Small & Exclusive Properties. He sighed. The offer was too good to be true. It was twice what he’d expected. He half wished he’d never contacted his friend in Capital’s acquisition department. Roger had been more than interested when Robert told him the name of his client.
“Jo Edmonds?” Roger said. “Didn’t she buy Kirkton House about a year ago? Pipped us to the post, I hear she got it for a song?”
“Well, now she’s thinking of selling it.” Robert bit his lip as he explained. It was agony for him.
“Big old place too much for her?” Roger asked. “Expect it’s falling down.”
“On the contrary,” Robert bristled. “It’s booming at the moment, despite the recession, she has a well heeled bunch tripping through the doors and the place is quite magnificent.” He visualised the busy restaurant and exquisite surroundings as Roger took notes. He wanted to see details and assured Robert he’d get back to him. He asked Robert to give Capital first refusal.
And now Robert had an offer on the table. Jo would be crazy not to accept this. It would set her up for the rest of her life. He reluctantly reached for the telephone and with a heavy heart, dialled her number.
* * *
Alf and Judy walked along the high street in Marland. Judy linked her arm through Alf’s thick tweed jacket and cuddled into him. The sleet was horrible and she was pleased that she had a hood on her coat and wellies on her feet.
They stopped outside Braithwaite the Jewellers and stared at the hundreds of gleaming rings. Judy knew which one she wanted.
“Let’s get in then and see what they’ve got.”
Alf looked down at the two damp dogs by his heel. They sat on the wet pavement in their training harnesses and looked adoringly up at their master.
“Do you think it will be alright to take Sefton and Ceasar in?” Judy reached down to pick the puppies up. She handed Sefton to Alf.
“Course it will, money we’ll be spendin’” Alf tucked Sefton into the pocket of his shooting jacket then reached for Caesar and put him in the opposite side. The puppies snuggled into the warm lining and their heads poked out of the flaps.
The sales assistant could spot a couple about to get engaged at ten paces. He gushed over to them, admired the dogs and pulled out two chairs for Judy and Alf.
“Have you given any thought to the style of ring for Madam?” He tapped his long thin fingers on the glass counter. Judy told him what she wanted and with a quick flick he produced a velvet cloth and a tray of rings. She pointed to a small ruby set in old gold.
“Don’t you want a diamond?” Alf looked at the antique ring.
“Well, I like rubies and…” Judy hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Alf that she thought diamonds and rubies would be too expensive, and rubies were her favourite after all.
“Well I like diamonds, summat proper on your finger.” He looked up. The sales assistant nodded and disappeared into the back of the shop. He returned moments later with a leather box.
“This has only just come in. It came from an inheritance sale, an estate in Scotland. There’s a collection of precious items from the former Lady of the House but you may be interested in this ring.” He unclipped the fastening. A beautiful ruby set in white gold, surrounded by small diamonds sparkled at them. Judy gasped and Alf’s eyes lit up. The assistant took it out of the box and placed it on Judy’s finger.
It was perfect!
Judy turned to Alf. She had tears in the corner of her eyes.
“How much?” Alf asked. The assistant wrote a figure down on a piece of paper and discreetly handed it to Alf. Alf’s face was deadpan.
“Take twenty percent off and you’ve got a deal.”
“I couldn’t possibly go that low Sir.” The assistant motioned to Judy’s hand. “And it does look so wonderful on Madam’s finger.”
“Well I suppose I could…”
“That’s a deal then.” Alf held out his hand and crunched the assistant’s bony fingers. Judy flung her arms round Alf’s neck. She could hardly believe it! Alf placed a large pile of notes on the counter as the assistant, flexing his crushed fingers, wrote out a bill of sale and gift wrapped the ring in it’s pretty little box. He sighed as he tied the ribbon. But it was Christmas after all…
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
At last - Christmas Eve! Jo flopped down on a chair beside the Red Room fire and raised her glass to George.
“Here’s wishing you a happy Christmas Dad!”
“Thank you love, and a very happy Christmas to you too.”
George smiled as he looked at his daughter and took a sip of his malt whisky. He stroked Nipper, who was curled up on his knee. Their glasses sparkled in the glowing fire light and fairy lights on the tree twinkled above piles of wrapped gifts.
The hotel was closed for three days. Jo had decided to have a family Christmas and her parents had arrived that afternoon. Ann had gone home to her family in Marland and Jean was bathing Thomas. Pippa stretched out in front of the fire, a sleepy Bertie snuggled beside her. Hattie, her Mam and the boys would arrive at any moment.
The staff had worked hard throughout December and could now all enjoy Christmas with their families. Sandra and her mother were having Arthur and Gerald over for Christmas lunch and Gerald was cooking for them all on Boxing Day. He’d been planning the menu carefully and was going to roast a joint of pork with all the trimmings. Trevor Pigmy dropped it off when he delivered Jo’s Christmas Turkey.
“May I wish you the compliments of the season, Mrs Edmonds.”
Trevor’s head shone, the black hair slicked into place. Add a few cherries and he’d look like a Christmas pudding, Jo thought as she gasped and admired the size and quality of the bird, now spread-eagled on the kitchen table. They’d be eating turkey for weeks...
Alf and Judy had been over that afternoon and proudly showed off the engagement ring. Judy glowed and Jo was delighted for them. She’d bought an engagement gift and watched with apprehension as they opened it.
“His & Her matching bathrobes, lovely!” Judy clapped her hands. “Look Alf, the pockets are deep enough for Sefton and Caesar!”
Alf examined the items. He wasn’t sure that he approved, there was nothing wrong with his flannel nightshirt.
They celebrated the engagement with champagne and Old Johnny, who swept snow off the front door step, came in to toast the happy couple. He declined champagne and had a measure of whisky with George.
Jo sipped her drink and stared into the flickering flames. Robert had told her about the offer from Capital Country Houses. It was simply too good to refuse. Jo could hardly believe that they wanted the hotel so badly, but Robert said the group was looking to the future. The location was perfect for their chain. When the recession was over they would build at least forty more bedrooms and the garden could easily take a large extension, possibly a leisure club too.
Jo sighed. She didn’t know how she was going to tell everyone, especially Hattie, but knew it would have to wait until after the New Years Party. She didn’t want anything to spoil that. She’d told Robert that she’d agree in principle but he wasn’t to breathe a word until the New Year.
“Problems Love?” George had been watching Jo.
“No Dad, not at all.” She sat up and finished her drink. “I was just thinking what a strange year it has been, so up and down.” Surely her Dad would be pleased that she’d clear such a big profit? He’d be the first person she’d break the news to in the New Year.
“At least you’re finishing on a high, the party sounds great.”
George held his glass out and Jo topped it up from a decanter on the coffee table. “Too much excitement for your Mum and me, but we’ll be with you in spirit.
“I hope it’s a success Dad. It’s costing a bomb.”
The door opened and Jean came in with a sleepy Thomas on her shoulder. She peeled him away and handed him to Jo. He wore a red sleep suit trimmed in white with a hood. Pretty embroidery across the front read Santa’s Little Helper. Jo took the tired child and stood by the Christmas tree.
“Look at all the pretty lights Thomas.” His eyes were wide as he sucked on his thumb. She walked over to the fireplace. A plate with a carrot and mince pie sat next to a small glass of Cointreau.
“Roodof!” Thomas pointed at the carrot. “Santa!” He pointed to the Cointreau. Jo looked over his head at George.
“Santa has a sweet tooth.” George winked.
A car pulled up on the drive and they heard the doors slam and footsteps crunch.
“That sounds like Aunty Hattie, here go to Gran for a moment.” Jo handed Thomas over to Jean.
Hattie’s Opel Cadette was splayed at an angle by the front door and the boys carried cases and black bin liners, filled with presents. Her Mam flicked a cigarette butt into the border then hurried into the porch. Hattie followed. It was freezing and as Jo looked out she could see that the trees were white over with frost.
“Bleedin’ Hell, I hope you’ve got that fire on.” Hattie shivered as she shook herself in the doorway. The boys raced past her and pulled their grandmother into the Red Room to see the tree.
“Happy Christmas to you too!” Jo took Hattie’s coat.
Hattie paused and looked at her reflection in the hall mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced down at the nativity scene on the table. Mary, Joseph and the Three Kings huddled round a crib containing a knarled baby.
She turned to face Jo.
“Are you alright?” Jo asked. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
“You’re selling it aren’t you?”
“How did you know?” Jo was shocked.
“Call it intuition.” Hattie looked up. “Or maybe an Irish angel?”
Hattie stared at Jo’s anxious face. “Don’t look so panic stricken, I’d do exactly the same if I was in your shoes and I won’t tell anyone – get the party over first eh?” She linked Jo’s arm. “By the sound of things they’ve made you an offer you’d be bloody mental to refuse.” She raised her eyebrows and looked around. “I’m not half going to miss it though.” She looked fondly at Jo. “Happy Christmas Jo, you deserve it.”
“Thank you Hattie and so do you, happy Christmas!”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
The weather stayed bitterly cold and although the village resembled a pretty Christmas card scene, with banks of snow sweeping across the green and icicles hanging from hedgerows, Jo was worried that it might affect the party.
The marquee company assured Jo that their generators could function at temperatures as low as minus twenty degrees and they’d never yet had a problem. But as the party got closer, Jo began to worry about everything.
The marquee was erected three days before the event and a team of men spent a day securing it down and laying the flooring. Hattie watched with interest. The main person in charge was a cousin of Arthur’s. He was a stickler for detail and placed each piece with precision. He stood up as Hattie handed him a mug of tea.
“Hope that floors’ strong.” She nodded at his work. “There’ll be plenty of bodies jigging about on it.”
“It’ll take an aircraft landing by the time I’ve finished with it.” He smiled and sipped his tea. Maurice was a well muscled man with a weathered complexion. Hattie smiled back and continued her inspection of the marquee.
“Looks like a circus tent.” She commented as she gazed at the pointed ceiling. Chairs were stacked in groups of ten and table bases and tops rested against them. A stage was set at the top end, opposite the entrance.
“Give us a twirl!” Jo called out as she walked over carrying a pile of chair covers and matching ribbon tiebacks. Hattie skipped across the floor and spun hers
elf round on one foot. She tripped and fell, landing on her bottom by Maurice.
“I hope that’s just your practice run.” He offered her his hand.
“Very funny.” Hattie scrambled to her feet. “I’ve got bleedin’ splinters where I’ve no right to have splinters.” She grumbled.
“Need a hand to get them out?” Maurice gave her a wink. She grabbed his empty mug and stomped away.
Sandra, Gerald and Marion had the immense task of creating a grand buffet for three hundred hungry revellers and had been hard at it since they returned from their Christmas days off. With only one day to go, they were working round the clock. In the days before New Years Eve, Jo restricted restaurant meals to residents only to take the pressure off them, but there was still a massive amount of work to do. In the marquee, guests would be seated at circular tables and in turn help themselves from the buffet. Starters and desserts would be served by the waiting team, supervised by Judy. The catering tent had filled with china, utensils and glassware, Judy had a clip board and was busy ticking things off on her lists.
Car parking seemed to be in order. Pete Parks had organised two coaches to bring his guests to the party and taxi numbers had been given to everyone when they booked their tickets. Phillip Campbell had a seven-seater jeep and would ferry guests over from the village green, where the police had suggested additional parking. Martin next door offered his large driveway and Old Johnny was busy getting notices ready. The hotel was full. The bedrooms had sold quickly and with the overflow, the pub now had a no vacancies sign outside.
The phone rang constantly. Hattie glued herself to reception and monitored all the calls from the florist, the brewery, the wine merchant and numerous suppliers who confirmed what time they would be delivering or setting up. People still called asking for last minute tickets, but the event had been sold out for over a week and Jo couldn’t increase the numbers.
Coffee, Tea, The Gypsy & Me... Page 30