The Rainbow Years

by Bradshaw, Rita

  Charles blinked as the door shut. Cheeky hound! Was Robin suggesting people might think he had designs on the girl? Damn it, she was a child, fourteen years old, and he was a grown man of twenty-six who had buried his wife and baby two years ago. For a moment or two he was inclined to call his manager back and tear him off a strip. ‘Damn cheek,’ he muttered out loud, shaking his head with some bewilderment before he reached for the pile of papers on his desk and tried to clear his mind of everything except the accountant’s report in front of him.

  But the desire for another drink had left him for the present.

  PART THREE

  1932 Suitors

  Chapter 7

  Amy stood quietly in front of Mr Mallard, her hands folded behind her back, her eyes downcast and her feet together as each waitress had been drilled to do if she was ever summoned into the holy of holies - the girls’ nickname for the manager’s office. Since Mr Mallard had called for her a few minutes before, she’d been racking her brains to think what she might have done wrong, but thus far nothing had presented itself. She hoped it wasn’t too awful. She loved her job, she had never been so happy in all her life and she would just die if she got the sack as one or two other girls had done who hadn’t measured up to Mr Mallard’s high standards. But he was always fair, she had to give him that.

  ‘Ah, Miss Shawe.’ Mr Mallard looked up at last from the papers on his desk. He always kept the junior staff waiting a minute or so before he deigned to speak to them, and although Amy was used to this strategy it still unnerved her. ‘A full twelve months since you joined us. I hope you have enjoyed your time here.’

  ‘Very much, sir.’ Her stomach was turning over.

  Mr Mallard nodded. ‘Good, good,’ he said. He gestured to the chair to the side of her. ‘Please be seated.’

  Amy’s eyes widened as she did as she was told. In the last year she had been in this office several times but she had never been asked to sit down before.

  ‘You have become a very good waitress, Miss Shawe, mainly because you listen to those more experienced than yourself and put what they say into practice.’ Mr Mallard smiled at her and she was so surprised she didn’t even smile back. ‘For that reason I am going to give you the chance of working upstairs for a period of three months to see how you get on. If in that time you show yourself to be worthy of my confidence in you, the position will become permanent. If not, you will return to the café and tea shop. Do you understand? ’

  ‘Yes, Mr Mallard.’ Amy’s eyes were shining. ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you.’ The restaurant! Where the waiters and only a select few of the waitresses worked, and where the tips were said to be amazingly generous on occasion. And it was so grand in there. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, great big mirrors and glittering glass cabinets everywhere, and the tables covered with the most exquisite linen cloths and napkins.

  ‘Your hours will remain the same in number but will obviously have to meet the requirements of the restaurant so a substantial part of your time here will be in the evening. Might this be a problem?’

  It might but she wasn’t going to admit to it. ‘No, Mr Mallard.’ She’d cross the bridge of how she was going to get home late at night when she came to it.

  ‘Mr Duckworth will show you how things are run in the restaurant later and once you are working there you will report directly to him.’

  Amy nodded. She liked Mr Duckworth, the head waiter, all the staff did, although she had come to like Mr Mallard too since she had been working at Callendars, deciding her first impression of the manager hadn’t been fair. He was just a bit unapproachable.

  ‘Now as I’ve explained, you will be on probation for three months starting from next week.You will receive an increase in pay of two shillings per week forthwith. If at the end of this time you are considered suitable to continue working upstairs, your pay will be reviewed again. I think that’s all for now, Miss Shawe.’

  Again Mr Mallard smiled, and this time Amy smiled back before saying again, ‘Thank you, Mr Mallard. I’ll do my very best not to let you down.’

  ‘If I doubted that you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Hard work and trustworthiness are rewarded at Callendars.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Amy rose to her feet and all but floated out of the office.The restaurant! This was her first step up the ladder and she would make sure it wasn’t her last. And a two shilling rise, with more at the end of three months. That would persuade Aunt May to agree to the late hours, especially now that both Perce and Bruce were on short time. Mind, they’d probably have lost their jobs altogether if it wasn’t for their granda manoeuvring things - as Aunt May reminded Uncle Ronald at every opportunity.

  The light in Amy’s eyes dimmed a little as the situation at home swept over her, but then she shrugged it aside and stepped into the bustle of the café. Immediately Verity was there. ‘Well?’ The other girl caught hold of her arm, drawing her to one side. ‘What did old Mincing Mallard want?’

  Amy kept her voice low as she said, ‘He’s offered me a chance to work in the restaurant for three months to see how I get on up there.’

  ‘You? But I’ve been here longer than you, so’ve Ellen and Hilda.’ Verity didn’t actually add, ‘It’s not fair,’ but she might as well have.

  Amy stared at her friend. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said awkwardly.

  ‘Oh, it’s not your fault.’ Verity’s tone was grudging. ‘It’s him, Mincing Mallard. He’s never liked me much, nor any of us who don’t suck up to him and think he’s the next thing down from God Almighty.’

  Amy didn’t know what to say. There was no truth in the veiled accusation. She didn’t suck up to the manager but neither was she prone to coming in late now and again like Hilda or dropping things like Ellen.And Verity, although good at her job, usually made sure she was out of the door on the dot at six o’clock and would wriggle out of the more mundane duties like cleaning the tables and sweeping the floor if she could. And Mr Mallard noticed such things even if he didn’t always mention them.

  ‘When do you start upstairs?’ Verity asked after a short, tense silence.

  ‘Monday,’ said Amy flatly, all her joy in the wonderful opportunity gone, even as she told herself she should have expected this. She liked Verity, she liked her very much but she wasn’t blind to her friend’s nature.Verity was funny and bright with a wicked sense of humour that had them all in fits of laughter most of the time, but as an only child whose doting parents had given up on ever having their own baby by the time she arrived, she was used to having her own way.

  ‘I suppose it’s more money too.’Verity was allowed to keep most of her wage for herself but money seemed to slip through her fingers like sand.

  Amy nodded. ‘Which will come in handy with the lads on short time and Eva not leaving school till the summer. I don’t suppose she’ll earn much in service even then.’

  The two girls looked at each other for a moment and then Verity’s gaze dropped away.‘I’d better see to my customer,’ she muttered shortly.

  ‘Verity, don’t be like this.’ Amy caught at her friend’s arm as she turned but it was jerked away.

  Verity’s voice was sharp as she said, ‘Be like what? I’m doing my job, that’s all. Isn’t that what we’re here for? To wait on people?’ And she hurried away.

  Amy stood looking after her. Should she tell Mr Mallard she had changed her mind about the job in the restaurant? Not that he’d necessarily offer it to Verity, of course. He could even advertise for someone from outside to replace the waitress who was leaving. And they did so need the extra money at home. The huge row between her aunt and uncle over dinner last night had boiled down to things being so tight.

  She bit hard on her lip as she started to clear the table nearest to her. Aunt May had begun the argument by saying that her da had offered to help out with new shoes for all the bairns. Uncle Ronald had forbidden it, as Aunt May must have known he would, and then the mother and father of an argument had ensued which had culmin
ated in her uncle storming out of the kitchen, shouting he was master in the house, not Mr O’Leary.

  Amy frowned. Her Aunt May and Verity were quite similar in some ways if she thought about it, although it had never struck her until now. Both thought they could always have exactly what they wanted. But she couldn’t see Verity ending up as bitter and disgruntled with her lot as Aunt May was, and she didn’t want to lose Verity’s friendship.

  She carried the tray piled high with dirty dishes out to the kitchen before returning with fresh cutlery and a clean cloth.

  She had never had a real friend of her own age before, she reflected. Her aunt hadn’t allowed any of them to bring other children into the house or even the backyard, and because she’d been kept busy with household chores in the evenings and at weekends she hadn’t played out in the street with neighbours’ bairns like her cousins had.

  She’d talk to Verity in their lunch break and sort something out then. The two of them got on so well, after all.

  The lunch break for the waitresses who worked in the café and tea shop was staggered so that none of them were away from Callendars at the busiest time of the day, namely from twelve o’clock until two. Ellen and Hilda took an early slot from eleven o’clock to midday, Amy and Verity left at two and returned at three o’clock and the two most recent girls had the short straw of waiting until three before they could eat. After gulping down their sandwiches in the little room off the kitchen designated for staff use, Amy and Verity would always wander round the surrounding shops together, so when Amy reached the room to find it empty she stood for a moment blinking uncertainly. She was sure she’d seen Verity leave the café dead on two but because she herself had been tied up with a customer she hadn’t been able to follow straightaway. Just to make sure, Amy popped her head round the door leading into the café and peered around.

  ‘Looking for Verity?’ Ellen stopped on her way to the kitchens with a tray of dirty dishes. ‘She’s already gone and I might as well tell you she’s got her bloomers in a twist about you having the job upstairs.’

  ‘Oh, Ellen.’

  ‘Aw, don’t look like that.’ Ellen’s tone softened.‘I can understand her in a way. I suppose me an’ Hilda felt a bit miffed when she told us earlier but I don’t hold with falling out over it. When all’s said and done, it’s not us who decide such things.’

  ‘She thinks I’ve tried to get on Mr Mallard’s good side but I promise you I’ve only done my job as I saw it, Ellen.’

  ‘Aye, well, it’s not Mr Mallard—’ Ellen stopped abruptly and to Amy’s surprise turned pink. Her voice was flustered as she mumbled, ‘I’d better get this tray to the kitchen.’

  ‘What’s not Mr Mallard?’

  ‘Nothing. Look, don’t let Verity upset you.’

  ‘What’s not Mr Mallard, Ellen?’ Amy repeated quietly.

  Ellen stared at her helplessly for a moment or two before she said, ‘It’s not Mr Mallard who decides which one of us goes upstairs, is it?’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Amy was genuinely surprised.

  Ellen shifted from one foot to the other.‘It’s Mr Callendar. This is his place, after all. That’s what Hilda says anyway.’

  Something in the other girl’s face made Amy say, ‘What else does Hilda say?’

  ‘Aw, come on, lass.You know he likes you. I’m not saying you’ve ever done anything . . .’ The expression on Amy’s face caused Ellen to pause a second before she rushed on, ‘But he likes you, everyone knows that.’

  Amy was flabbergasted. ‘You think . . .’ She couldn’t go on for a moment. ‘You’re all saying I’ve been carrying on with Mr Callendar?’ She couldn’t believe this was happening. Mr Callendar had always been kind to her since the episode with the letter shortly before she had started work here, and she knew it was because he didn’t want her to think he believed the lies which had been written about her, but that was all it was. How could they think for one moment she had been . . .

  ‘Does everyone think this?’ she asked fiercely.

  Ellen’s chin came up and her tone if not the words she used said quite clearly, Don’t take that tack with me. ‘Well, it’s not surprising, is it? He doesn’t stop and have a chat with the rest of us like he does you, and you’re always the one who takes his tea tray up and sometimes it’s five or ten minutes before you come down.’

  Amy didn’t say, But we’re only talking. He asks me about my life at home and how things are, and I tell him about little happenings here and at home, things to make him laugh because he’s lonely. Lonely and sad. Can’t you see that? Instead she said, ‘Mr Mallard asks me to take the tray.’ But her voice carried no conviction because for the first time it dawned on her that Mr Callendar had probably told the manager to arrange it that way.

  Ellen gnawed at her lower lip, aware she had said too much and this might rebound on her badly. ‘It’s none of my business anyway. I’m just saying what the others think.’

  Amy stared at her, her mind in turmoil.

  ‘You won’t say anything, will you? To him, Mr Callendar?’ Ellen’s voice was urgent. ‘You know how things are at home with me da and the lads on the dole. Me mam would go barmy if I lost this job. Da came in last night soaked to the skin after trying to get work round the doors all day, gardening and such. But there’s nowt going. You won’t drop me in it, will you, Amy?’

  ‘No, I won’t drop you in it.’

  ‘Oh ta, thanks, lass, I knew you wouldn’t.’ Ellen stood a moment more and then bustled away, wishing she hadn’t opened her mouth in the first place. She had always thought the same as the others but now she wasn’t so sure. And Hilda would kill her if she found out she’d quoted her.

  Amy went back into the small staffroom and stood staring sightlessly at the row of coats hanging on pegs all down one wall. She sat down on one of the two benches the room held, her legs trembling. They all believed she was carrying on with Mr Callendar; they’d probably been gossiping about her for weeks, months. It was utterly devoid of truth but that wouldn’t make any difference. Was that the reason she had been given the job in the restaurant, because Mr Callendar had told Mr Mallard it had to be her? Not because of merit?

  She shut her eyes tightly, running her hand over her forehead before opening them again. If so, it would have been due to his kindness again, nothing else. Nothing else except perhaps pity? As the thought struck, she physically reared up against it, jumping to her feet. Why hadn’t she ever considered before that Mr Callendar might be feeling sorry for her? That it was a kind of charity which had prompted him to talk to her? If she had been given the job in the restaurant out of pity she couldn’t accept it.

  Her pride, always tender because of the manner of her birth, was smarting. She glanced round the room wildly, wondering what to do. She was still pacing about some ten minutes or so later when Jinny, one of the restaurant waitresses, walked in. Unless there was a special function of some kind the restaurant opened to the public at five o’clock, an hour before the café and tea shop closed, but the restaurant staff came on duty at half past two in the afternoon and worked until eleven or later, depending on how busy they were.

  Jinny’s entrance reminded Amy that the room would soon be full of the upstairs staff taking off their coats and changing their outdoor shoes for the black leather ones Callendars provided as part of the uniform. After saying hello to Jinny - a nice motherly kind of woman whom Amy had always liked but who now, she felt, might be thinking all sorts of things about her - Amy left the room and walked along the corridor towards the back stairs which led to Mr Callendar’s office on the first floor. Sometime during the last ten minutes her mind had been made up, she realised, and she had to deal with this immediately if Mr Callendar was in. Before she lost her nerve. Before she let the prospect of the new job and better money persuade her to say nothing and just avoid the restaurant owner in future. That was the easy way out and she couldn’t do it. She had to know the truth. But she wouldn’t drop Ellen or any of the others in it
. She’d promised Ellen that and she wouldn’t break her promise.

  Her heart was beating a racing tattoo as she made her way upstairs, praying she wouldn’t meet Mr Mallard who would be bound to ask her what she was doing. She wouldn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t know how she was going to broach the matter with Mr Callendar either, but once she was actually face to face with him she’d take it from there.

  She didn’t hesitate before she knocked on the door of the office and when his voice called, ‘Come in,’ she opened it immediately. She saw him glance up from the papers strewn on the desk in front of him and then his eyes widened slightly in surprise. ‘Amy?’ He had long since dropped the ‘Miss Shawe’ when he spoke to her in private but she was always careful to address him as Mr Callendar or sir. She didn’t want him to think she was taking liberties. ‘Is anything the matter?’