by Helen Spring
She went to the kitchen larder, a large deep cellar which was ideal for storage. How or why it happened she was never to understand, but as she began to descend her foot missed the step. Even as she fell, a reflex twisting action enabled her to protect her bulging belly to some extent, but her shoulder caught a shelf opposite and she crashed heavily to the floor.
Lee Sung was there in seconds, his face horrified. 'Oh, Missis, Oh Missis...'
Anna gathered her wits. 'It's alright Lee, I don't think anything is broken, but I hurt my side.' She attempted to rise and a sudden wave of nausea and searing pain overwhelmed her. Lee Sung rounded on the kitchen maid, who seemed dumbstruck.
'Go quick Jennie, fetch someone... quick!' He cradled Anna's head on his arm. 'Then fetch Mr. Sullivan... quick Jennie!'
The last thing Anna remembered was Lee Sung's anxious face, and the sight of the big spoon still held in his free hand. Then the tearing pain enveloped her, racking her whole body with spasmodic shuddering, which rolled her back and forth like a rag doll, the pain increasing its terrible intensity until at last she sank into sweet oblivion.
~
Clancy stared at the doctor. It had been a long night and his brain would not function.
'I don't understand...' he managed at last. 'You said... I thought you said my wife was alright...'
The doctor, a kindly man with greying hair and a tired look, explained again.
'Yes Mr. Sullivan. Your wife will be fine in a few weeks, provided of course there is no infection. And the baby seems very healthy after all he's been through... a fine boy.'
'Then what...?' Clancy was still bemused.
'As I explained there were some injuries which made the birth difficult. We had to take... measures to save the baby and Mrs. Sullivan. Your wife no longer has the ability to bear further children.'
Clancy sat down on the hard chair which had been his seat during the horrendous hours of waiting. Their four lovely children... no five, he corrected automatically, the last one was a mistake... He put his head in his hands.
The doctor patted Clancy's shoulder in sympathy. 'Come on old chap,' he said. 'Your wife and baby are both doing well now.'
The doctor reflected briefly on the selfishness of men. After all that poor woman had been through... most families had too many children anyway.
'Your wife needs your support now,' he said firmly, and Clancy nodded and said, 'Thank you doctor, for all you did tonight.'
The doctor smiled. 'Well, you can go in now and meet your son, and remember, his being the only one is not the end of the world. It's not as though you haven't any children at all.'
Clancy nodded again, and entered the big ward, where he found Anna in a bed near the door. She had a large bruise on her cheek, and her eyes were bleak and dark rimmed with fatigue.
'There ye are darlin'. How are ye?' She noticed his accent, stronger now as always when he was upset.
'Oh Clancy, I'm alright now... but...'
Clancy smoothed strands of hair gently from her face and kissed her lightly.
'Sure ye look as if ye 've been in the wars, so ye do! That's a nasty bruise...'
'Oh Clancy...'
'And aren't we the lucky ones? A lovely boy, so the doctor said...'
He followed her eyes to the small crib at the foot of the bed. He got up and carefully looked in. When he turned to face her again his eyes were brimming. 'Can I pick him up?'
'Yes, I think so...' Anna glanced at a hovering nurse, who turned her back and walked to attend a nearby patient.
Clancy picked up the tiny bundle and brought him to Anna.
'He's a darlin' so he is. What shall we call him?'
'I had already thought... if you agree... I had a brother who died,... James. I'd like to name him for James.'
'James he is then.'
'Clancy... Clancy I’m sorry...’
He looked surprised. ‘What for?’
Her face creased. ‘You know what for... I can’t have any more children...’
‘Oh that!’ Clancy said lightly. ‘Who would want more when we have this little darlin’? He’s just perfect,’ he added, bending so that Anna could see the child. ‘Would ye believe the tiny fingers? Just look Anna...’
Anna smiled weakly. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘He’s lovely.’
And so are you, she thought. So are you, big Irish lummock that you are... so are you.
WINNING AND LOSING.
1908
The kitchens at the Plaza hotel were beginning to return to some sort of order after the hectic madness of the lunch period. A waiter entered and after a quick glance around, realised it was now or never and approached the Chef with some trepidation.
‘Excuse me Chef... would it be convenient...?’
The great man’s eyebrows narrowed, and the waiter readied himself for a torrent of abuse. Instead, Chef simply barked ‘What is it?’
‘There is a customer, a lady who insists on speaking to you...’
‘I don’t speak to customers.’ The tone was dismissive.
‘I know, I told her. She said she would wait until you could spare her a moment.’
A faint memory stirred, and a look of enquiry crossed the Chef’s heavy features. ‘What is her name?’ he asked, with some interest.
‘Mrs. Sullivan,’ the waiter replied, pleased that he had not been sent away with a flea in his ear. ‘I have no idea who she is, she is not a regular.’
‘No matter,’ Chef interrupted. ‘I have been expecting Mrs. Sullivan.’ He glanced around the kitchen. ‘Tell her I shall be five minutes.’
The waiter scurried away, altering his gait to his usual smooth glide as he entered the restaurant. He approached a small table in the corner where the elegant Mrs. Sullivan was making a late lunch.
‘Chef will be here in about five minutes ma ‘am.’
‘Thank you so much.’
Anna gave him a winsome smile and ordered claret jelly for dessert. As she finished it Chef arrived.
‘Mrs. Sullivan?’
‘Chef, how kind of you to spare me a few moments, I know how busy you are. Will you join me?’
‘That... would not be quite correct Mrs. Sullivan...’ For once the Chef was discomfited. He had been told she was attractive, but was unprepared for such stunning looks. She turned the smile on again.
‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy Chef, sit down...’
She indicated the chair opposite and Chef sat down gingerly, it was unfair of her to put him in this position, he thought.
‘I wanted to congratulate you on a perfect lunch,’ Anna said enthusiastically. ‘The lobster cassolette was superb. Just the right touch of tarragon, and Calvados... I think?’
Her tone invited him to confirm the ingredients, and Chef pulled himself together.
‘You may be having success at other establishments Mrs. Sullivan, but not at the Plaza.’
‘I am not sure what you mean...’ Her lovely face held a look of polite enquiry.
‘I do not wish to appear ungracious Mrs. Sullivan. I appreciate your compliments on the meal, but I have been expecting you. Why did it take you so long? We are after all, the best restaurant in New York.’
Anna suppressed a half smile. ‘I did have an excellent lobster thermidor at the Ritz Carlton...’ Seeing the Chef’s face change, she relented quickly. ‘Come now Chef, I was only teasing, the cassolette was even better. You say you were expecting me? I did not realise I had been... noticed.’
One could hardly fail to notice you, Chef thought. Aloud he said, ‘I do not often meet my culinary rivals...’ He corrected himself, ‘Or those who believe they are my rivals... but I do have a few friends in the business. I have heard of you, Mrs. Sullivan. You eat in the best restaurants, usually choosing a speciality for which the place is famous. Then you ask to see the Chef to congratulate him... and wheedle as many tips and secrets from him as you can...’
‘Wheedle? Did you say wheedle?’ Anna looked quite shocked.
‘
What would you call it?’ Chef asked sardonically. You had to hand it to her, he thought, she was quite an actress.
‘I would call it an interesting exchange of information, and recipes of course... among people who are all interested in food...’
‘And what is your purpose?’ The Chef was not to be deflected. ‘I know you are not in the restaurant business, at least not in “haute cuisine.”’
‘No, I am not. I am interested in good cooking, that is all. I have lived in New York for three years now, and have discovered that even the most wealthy people eat out. Any special occasion, even a family dinner party, is held in a restaurant, as the standards at home are just not good enough.’
Chef smiled. So that was it, he thought. This elegant lady hoped to climb the social ladder by giving dinner parties at which the food compared with the best the hotels and restaurants could offer. ‘That is quite true,’ he smiled. ‘In any case, women cannot cook, not at the highest level...’
‘You think not?’ Her voice had a steely edge. ‘Chef, which night do you have off?’
‘Me? Oh... er... Mondays.’
‘Good. To show you I mean what I say, I would like you to come to dinner on Monday evening. I shall cook.’
‘Oh... that’s very kind Mrs Sullivan but I don’t think...’
‘Come now Chef, you have handed out a challenge have you not? Here is my card, be there at seven thirty, to eat at eight.’
‘But Mrs. Sullivan...’
‘You have given me an excellent lunch Chef, please let me return the favour. There is only one condition.’The winning smile again.
‘And that is?’
‘If you agree I am a true cook, I want that recipe for lobster cassolette.’
~
When Anna left the Plaza she took one of the new metered taxi cabs home. She had enjoyed riding in them since the first fleet had arrived in New York from France a year earlier, in a blaze of publicity. It was silly, she supposed, but she liked to sit in the back seat and know that the cab had also been in France, as she had, and she would dream a little about those long lost days as she rode around New York like a lady.
When she arrived at the elegant house on 65th Street which was now her home, she immediately went to the nursery, where Lottie Wilson, the elderly English nanny she had engaged for James, was delighted to see her.
'Oh ma 'am, it's you,' she whispered, her face beaming with pleasure, 'I'll put the kettle on right away. The little one is fast asleep bless him. He'll be awake soon no doubt.'
Anna took a quick peep at her son, then took off her hat and sat down in a comfortable chair near the fireside. She liked being in the nursery with Lottie, the plain furnishings and simple fare reminded her of home.
Lottie busied herself with the tea things and said quietly, 'Did you get what you wanted?'
Anna sighed. 'No. The Chef knew I was there to pick his brains and wouldn't tell me anything.'
'Oh dear!' Lottie said with concern.
'It's not so bad. I've invited him to dinner on Monday. If he likes my cooking he'll give me the recipe.'
Lottie's face lit up. 'Then it's in the bag. There's not a better cook in all New York than you ma' am.' She poured boiling water into the teapot and stirred thoughtfully, saying 'You may not get much more information though.'
'It's no matter, I have all I need.' Anna answered. 'I shall be making up my own menu's when we open our first restaurant.' She smiled at Lottie. 'And how are you feeling my dear? Have you heard from your son?'
'No, ma'am. Not since the letter from Philadelphia when he was trying for a job on the railroad.'
'Don't worry, he'll be alright. He was probably right to leave, things are not easy now for immigrants.' Anna's mind went back to her own arrival in New York, and she continued, 'It was better when we came. President Roosevelt made it clear that immigrants of the right kind were welcome.'
Lottie nodded. 'And now we get blamed for every single thing wrong with this country, especially if we happen to be Catholic.'
Anna frowned. 'Surely not, Lottie. I am not a Catholic but I employed you to care for James because I know you are a good woman.'
Even as she said it some trick of memory caught her suddenly, and she was in Paris, and Jacques was explaining that Catholics didn't really worship pictures. Anna tried to concentrate. Was it possible that simple incident had affected her decision to employ Lottie?
'I know that ma'am,' Lottie was saying. She seemed to have something on her mind. 'Mrs. Sullivan, there was something I wanted to say to you...' she ventured.
Anna waited as Lottie poured the tea. She handed Anna her cup and then said hesitantly, 'You will recall I told you I would have to leave here, as soon as my son sent for me to join him?'
'Yes.'
'I want to say that even if he sends for me, I don't need to go until you are ready. It isn't as though Eddie needs me, in fact I'd be a liability for the first few years, until he's got himself settled. I'd love to look after James until he goes to school, if that's alright with you.'
'You know it is Lottie.' Anna was pleased.
'I've become so fond of him,' Lottie confessed. 'He's a lovely boy and that's the truth.'
Anna laughed. 'That's not what you said when he tipped the tea leaves into the rice pudding...'
Lottie joined in the laughter. 'He's mischievous right enough, but there isn't an unkind or ungenerous bone in his body.' She beamed at Anna. 'Just like his Pa,' she added.
Anna did not reply. She sipped her tea as Lottie chattered on.
'What I mean ma'am, is I'm glad you didn't give me that job in the kitchen I applied for. I'm so much happier looking after James. Mr. Sullivan relies on you for the business, and you need someone to rely on too. All I'm saying is ma'am, that someone is me...'
'Thank you Lottie, it's a relief to know you can stay for another couple of years, for James's sake.' Anna stopped, and then said carefully. 'It's been good to have you here Lottie, for me as well as James. Good to have someone to talk to about the business...'
'What me? Lord ma'am, I've no head for business...'
'No, but you are interested, and it helps me to talk over my ideas with someone who isn't directly involved.' Anna smiled sadly. 'It helps me to know someone is on my side.'
As Anna kissed her sleeping son and then left the nursery, Lottie pondered on her words. Whatever made Anna Sullivan imagine no-one was on her side? Why was everything such a battle for her? It was plain her husband worshipped her, surely he was the one to talk to about the business?
Lottie got up stiffly as she heard James begin to stir. Her feeling for Mrs. Sullivan was not simple gratitude, she felt genuine affection for the family, and didn't like to think the mistress was unhappy. Perhaps it was because there had been no more babies, she reflected.
Lottie lifted James from his bed and kissed him gently.
'There we are now, just woken up have we? Come with Nanny and have some milk...'
She sat the two year old in the small chair which his doting Pa had made with his own hands, and went to pour the milk, still considering Anna's words. The simple truth was probably, she thought, that young Mrs. Sullivan misses her mother.
~
When Clancy arrived home he was none too pleased to hear that the Chef from the Plaza was to dine with them on the following Monday.
‘I don’t know why you can’t leave well alone,’ he grumbled. ‘I don’t have the social chit chat for these people...’
‘What people?’ Anna retorted. ‘Anyone would think I had invited high society. The Chef is a very hard worker, like you and I. I will take care of the small talk,’ she added, ‘It will all be about food.’
Clancy frowned. ‘Does he have a name, this culinary wizard?’
‘I’ve no idea. I just called him “Chef.”’
‘I can’t call him “Chef” all evening...’
‘Well call him “Maitre” then if you prefer...’ Anna said tartly.
Clancy tried
a different tack. ‘When you go to these places dressed up so... so...’
‘Beautifully?’
‘I was going to say expensively,’ Clancy retorted. ‘People will think you have the money to back it up. This Chef will expect...’
‘He will expect a good dinner and he’ll get it. And I’m sure he has never been invited to a better address.’
‘That’s true. We should never have spent so much on this house. The area is beyond us...’
‘Of course it isn’t. We are as good as anyone else. This is America Clancy, we are not limited by ideas about what is “our place in society.” Money is what matters here.’
‘And we don’t have enough to live in a place like this,’ Clancy retorted.
‘Of course we do! It’s already worth twice what we paid for it, property prices are going through the roof!’
‘Yes, we’re so well off we only have one downstairs room furnished!’ Clancy reiterated.
Anna laughed out loud. ‘Yes, but what furnishing. You must admit we have done it right, haven’t we?’ She looked around the elegant drawing room with delight, where Sylvie’s painting held pride of place over the fireplace. ‘Honestly Clancy, did you ever think we should have a place like this? I’m sure it’s right to furnish only one room at a time and do it really well. Everything we buy will be of the very best quality...’
‘Everything you buy you mean...’
For once his tone seemed to reach her, and she said slowly, ‘You don’t mean that do you? You don’t really think I’m spending too much money? We are doing so well...’
Clancy relented. ‘It isn’t the money sweetheart, it’s just that I don’t know where we are going. We have a good business, yes, over fifty accounts now. But no matter how many accounts we get, we shall never be in the class of our neighbours...’
‘There you go again! Class!’ Anna said vehemently. ‘I want James to have...’
‘I know.’ Clancy interrupted. ‘You want a good future for him and so do I. But Anna, I don’t want to belong to so called high society. I wouldn’t be comfortable...’