by Isla Dewar
Sometimes, Nell would stare at André, the piano player, trying to remember where she’d seen him before. He was very familiar, but she couldn’t place him. In the end she supposed his face was just one of the faces she’d seen about. It’s like that in cities, she thought. People hang out in bars and cafés and eating places, and you recognise them even though you don’t know who they are.
It was exhausting. Nell’s working hours whizzed past – she ran from table to table and from bar to table and kitchen to table.
‘Stop running,’ May said. ‘You make people nervous. They’re here to enjoy themselves. They mustn’t know it’s bedlam behind the scenes.’ She was, at the time, scooping a peppered steak from the floor. It had fallen as Nell, plate in hand, had whirled round as she headed out of the kitchen towards the dining room. May had picked up the steak, examined it and put it back on the plate. ‘They’ll never know.’ She scowled at Nell. ‘Don’t run, glide.’
‘I’m too busy to glide,’ said Nell.
‘Glide quickly, then.’ Then as Nell slid away, she added, ‘I need a word with you later.’
It spoiled Nell’s night. Shouldn’t have whirled, she told herself. Whirling’s not good, not with a plate in your hand. She worried that May was going to fire her. At half-past ten, May burst out of the kitchen and took a bow. A small cheer rippled round the room – this is what they’d been waiting for. May nodded to André. ‘Maestro,’ she said. André started to play. Tonight’s offerings were ‘Mountain Greenery’ and ‘Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries’. She resisted the calls for an encore, telling the crowd she was absolutely bushed, tired out, exhausted. ‘Time for a wee sit down and a little something to drink.’
She went to the special table where her bacon and eggs were waiting for her, along with a large glass of Burgundy. ‘Excellent.’ She took an enormous swig. ‘Been needing that.’ She signalled Nell over to join her. ‘Take a seat.’
Nell sat opposite.
‘What I need you to do is give up your stupid day job,’ May said. ‘I can see that working in two places is getting too much for you. You’re doing too much running and whirling and not enough gliding.’
Nell nodded.
‘You’re to come in at lunch times. We need the extra hand now we’re getting busy.’
Nell said she’d think about it.
‘No need to think,’ said May. ‘The deed’s done. I phoned your shop this afternoon and told them you wouldn’t be back.’
‘You what?’
‘I told you. I handed in your notice for you. I haven’t time to wait for you to think about things. You’d take too long. You’re indecisive.’ She reached for the bottle of wine on the table, refilled her glass, and continued, ‘You’ve been at that shop for years now and you’re no further forward. You’ll be teetering in when you’re ninety and you’ll still be behind that counter. I’m offering you opportunities. I’m offering you a life. In two years you could be running my next restaurant. After that, the sky’s the limit.’
‘Gosh.’ It was all she could think of to say.
May winked. ‘Stick with me, kid.’ The matter of Nell’s employment done with, she turned to Harry and started to talk about finances at the garage.
Nell wasn’t interested and stopped listening. Instead, she drifted into a small fantasy of her future. She’d manage a restaurant. It would be in the West End. She’d wear a smart business suit and carry a leather briefcase with her initials engraved in gold letters on the side. She’d have an office with a large black desk that would be polished to a glisten and would have a fresh bunch of white roses placed on top every day. They’d sit next to the white phone. She’d work hard. She’d push her staff to perform well but she wouldn’t bully. I’ll be firm but fair, she thought.
It was a comfort to have someone like May who’d take her hand and lead her through life. She no longer had to worry. She had someone to lean on. May was wonderful. Nell stared at her, noticing for the first time how beautiful she was. Oh, she wasn’t gorgeous like Sophia Loren or Marilyn Monroe; May had a painful beauty. Every single thing she’d gone through in her life was written on her face. Nell could see it all: May’s early poverty; her struggles; her love of Harry and her children; her determination; her generosity; her ambition. It was what made May truly beautiful.
Sensing the stare, May turned. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘Nothing,’ said Nell. ‘I was day dreaming.’
‘Well, don’t. It won’t get you anywhere. So you’ll turn up here to help with the lunches on Monday and on Sunday you’ll also be here to learn about cocktails. I’m going to be serving them. They’re sophisticated.’
‘Who’s going to teach me?’ asked Nell. ‘A cocktail tutor? Some sort of master of mixing drinks?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said May. ‘I’ve bought a book. We’ll get all we need from that.’
Chapter Nineteen
The Love Speech
‘We’re not going to offer a range of cocktails,’ said May. ‘Just one rum and one whisky.’
‘But,’ Nell protested, ‘some people prefer gin.’
May agreed. ‘OK. One rum, one whisky and one gin.’
Johnny said that a lot of women drank vodka these days.
‘Fine. One rum, one whisky, one gin and one vodka,’ said May. ‘That’s four.’
Nell said she thought champagne cocktails were posh.
‘Oh yes. We’ve got to have them. So it’s one whisky, one rum, one gin, one vodka and a champagne one. Five. No more.’
She put the book on the bar counter and thumbed through it. ‘We want drinks that people have heard of. A Manhattan, that’ll be good. It’s the sort of thing film stars drink in the movies.’
‘Martinis,’ said Nell. ‘They have them in films.’
As each cocktail was chosen, May placed the required bottles on the bar. They would start with martinis as she considered them to be the classic cocktail. ‘Shaken, not stirred,’ she said.
They each took a cocktail shaker and measured the gin and vermouth into it along with a splash of bitters and a dash of lemon. They shook the mixture, and Nell quickly got a ticking off for being too flamboyant.
‘You’re not playing the maracas. You’ve got to look professional.’
They poured their drinks into cocktail glasses, added ice and an olive, and drank. They exchanged glasses, drank again. Exchanged glasses once more, drank again and all agreed Nell’s was best. Nell admitted she’d skimped on the gin and added more vermouth than the recipe recommended.
‘This is what we want,’ said May. ‘Cutting costs is a priority. We’ll be giving these cocktails away. Though only on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, our quiet nights. Anything to bring the punters in.’
They worked their way through Daiquiris, Moscow Mules and Manhattans, working out just how little alcohol and how much lime juice and sugar syrup made a reasonable drink. By the time they started on the Champagne Charlies – a mix of champagne and apricot brandy – nobody was sober.
Johnny said it was time to go. He had a date tonight and wanted to shower. Nell wondered if perhaps he ought to order a taxi. ‘You might not be fit to drive, and the roads might be frosty.’
But May said if there was one thing about Johnny, it was that he was an excellent driver. ‘That’s one thing he does really well.’ She started to clear up, washing glasses, putting bottles away. ‘I’ll put the cocktail spirits apart from the normal spirits. We’ll be watering them down a little. Saving money, that’s the thing.’
‘Isn’t that against the law?’ said Nell.
‘Not when the drinks are free,’ May said. ‘Besides, who’s to know?’
‘I just think it’s wrong,’ said Nell.
‘Nonsense,’ said May. ‘It’s business and all’s fair in love and business. I’m not selling anything that isn’t what it purports to be. I’m giving away something that isn’t what it purports to be. There’s a difference. I’m not a cheat.’
Nell nodde
d. She was impressed. May was such an astute businesswoman, Nell thought her a wonderful role model. One day, she’d be like that.
She asked, as she dried the glasses, how Harry was. ‘He looks a little down these days.’
‘Oh, he’s got his worries. Who hasn’t? Life isn’t easy. If your life is easy, you’re doing something wrong. It’s overcoming the difficulties that make a man of you.’
Nell decided not to mention that she wasn’t a man and asked what Harry’s difficulties were.
‘Oh, just a little hiccup with the Inland Revenue. They think he hasn’t been paying enough tax. Well, nobody pays any tax if they can avoid it. My money is for the family, not the government. I don’t like governments and I don’t like politicians. I want my loved ones to benefit from my work. I mean, what does the government do with my money? It builds nuclear bombs. Well, that’s not on. Nobody asked me if I wanted nuclear bombs. I’m not paying for them. They can’t tax you on what they don’t know you have.’ May looked about the room, embraced it with a sweep of her arms. ‘All this is about love. My love for you, Harry, Alistair and Johnny.’ Her voice softened as she said that last name. ‘He needs this. He needs a mother to protect him.’
Nell said nothing. May was plainly on a roll.
‘These cocktails, this restaurant, the food, the wine, the singing, the plans for the future – it’s all for love. I love my family. This is what I do for my boys.’ She looked at Nell. ‘You know nothing about poverty. You know nothing about being hungry. Well, I do. I remember when we had no food and no money to buy food. Harry and me and us not long started out – hadn’t sold a car in months. I had two boys at the table and not a scrap to give them.’
‘What did you do?’ Nell asked.
‘I went out and stole two tins of beans and a pack of sausages. I’d do it again if I had to. I stole and it was love made me do it. So only my family gets my money. Nobody else. I work my fingers to the bone, charge reasonable prices and people go away happy. Same with Harry. He works all the hours God sends. And, when people drive out of his garage in a car, they’re happy. So maybe the car’s done a little more mileage than is on the clock, and maybe the rust has been glossed over and a few holes in the bodywork have been patched up with this and that, but the car’s shiny and smells of being new and they’re happy. That’s what Harry and me do – we make people happy. And we do it for love.’ She plonked a glass on the bar, filled it with gin and just a splash of tonic. ‘Love,’ she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Love, it’s all for love. I love my family.’
Nell stopped drying the glasses and stared at May, eyes aglow. This woman was marvellous. She was more that a businesswoman, she was the complete woman: a mother; a cook; a wife; a lover; a woman of many opinions and passions who gave her family everything she had. Nell wanted to be like that. She wanted to live in a big house, dote on her children, lavish money on clothes and food and furniture. She wanted to boldly start new businesses, come up with innovative ideas that would push them forward. She wanted to wear extravagant styles. She wanted to be May.
A car drew up outside. May perked up and smiled. ‘That’s Harry now, come to take us home.’
In bed that night, Nell said, ‘Your mother’s remarkable.’
‘Is she?’
‘Yes. She told me that everything she does, she does—’
‘For love,’ said Alistair. ‘Oh God, she gave you the love speech.’ He pulled the blankets over his head. He squirmed remembering it.
‘I think it’s wonderful,’ said Nell. ‘She works her fingers to the bone for her family. For love of the family.’
‘Did she mention not paying taxes because the government used her money to build bombs?’
‘Yes,’ said Nell. ‘I think she’s right. Except it’s illegal not to pay taxes.’
‘Too true,’ said Alistair. ‘Did she mention stealing two tins of beans and a pack of sausages?’
Nell said that she did. ‘Endless amazing devotion. She risked everything for you.’
‘The first time I got pocket money I bought beans and sausages and went to that shop and put them on the shelves. I think stealing is wrong. I think just about everything my mother does is wrong.’
‘But she does it for love. She does everything for love. I think it’s wonderful don’t you?’
Alistair sighed and said he didn’t. ‘I think the woman loves too much. I think she loves to love and doesn’t know the guilt it causes. I never asked to be loved that much. It’s embarrassing. It’s tiring. I feel weak just thinking about it.’ He turned away from Nell, pulled the blankets over his head, shutting her out, and tried to sleep.
Nell settled herself into her sleeping position and pulled her pillow down so it met the top of the sheet and eliminated all draughts. She didn’t sleep. She didn’t want to, not yet. She had plans to make. In a year, maybe two, she’d be managing a restaurant. She had to make a go of this; she had to prove to May, a woman she now found inspirational, that she was worthy. She wondered what she’d wear when the day of the new job came. A suit, she thought. The sort of thing Doris Day wore in Pillow Talk, business-like but feminine. And a hat, a neat perky, witty number that would perch nicely on the side of her head, ‘A hat,’ she said out loud.
Alistair heard and turned, but couldn’t think of anything to say on the matter of hats.
Nell said, ‘Do you think we ought to ask Carol to go? We could give her the money for the deposit on a flat of her own.’
Alistair didn’t answer. He liked having Carol here. He had someone to talk to in the evenings. He loved his niece. He loved watching her grow, listening as she started to speak, watching her wonder at the world. When she discovered a butterfly, he felt he was discovering one too. He thought the child a marvel and didn’t want her to leave. So rather than reply, he let out a soft snore and pretended to be asleep.
Chapter Twenty
Born With a
Disadvantage
The phone woke them. Alistair jumped from bed, ran to the kitchen and answered it. Phone calls that came in the night never brought good news.
It was May. Johnny had been in an accident. ‘His car’s a write-off. He drove it into a tree. He’s broken his leg and several ribs. They had to cut him free. His beautiful face is all swollen and bruised. I think he’s broken his jaw. He’s lucky he didn’t break his neck.’
‘You’re at the hospital now?’ asked Alistair.
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Because you’re sounding sane.’ May only fell apart in private. She’d wait till she got home before she started weeping.
‘How well you know me. You’ve got to come. I need you here.’
Alistair said he was on his way.
He found May sitting on a plastic chair in the corridor outside the ward. Her handbag was on the floor beside her. She had her hands folded in her lap and was staring at the wall. She looked suddenly unusually small. Her face, stripped of its usual enthusiasm, looked gaunt. He sat down next to her, took her hand and squeezed it. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Bearing up,’ she said. ‘They’ve set his leg and his jaw. He’s sleeping now.’
Alistair asked if his brother had been drinking.
‘Cocktails,’ said May. ‘Him and Nell and me were testing out which ones we’d serve.’
‘Ah.’
‘I told him not to drink them. “Just taste,” I said. But no he knocked them all back. He’s like that. Never knows when to stop.’
Alistair suspected this wasn’t true, but that May had made it up to ease her conscience. He thought it was likely she’d encouraged Johnny to drink, but by now she’d have convinced herself she’d told him just to taste. In time, when Johnny’s accident became part of family lore, it would be true. There would be no doubting the story the way May would tell it. He looked round.
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Sleeping,’ said May. ‘He’s had an awful day. Hours and hours with the account
ant planning what to say to the tax inspector at the meeting tomorrow. Now this.’ She sighed.
Alistair didn’t ask why his father had a meeting with his tax inspector. Instead he asked May how long she’d been here.
‘Since six this evening. Sitting here smelling that hospital smell, worrying and waiting for the doctor to come and tell me what’s happening.’
‘I think it’s time we took you home,’ said Alistair.
‘I’m not going home. I need to be here in the morning when Johnny wakes.’
‘I don’t think they’ll let you see him till visiting time.’
‘There’s no visiting time for me. I don’t do visiting times. Soon as he wakes I’m going into the ward to see him.’
He draped her coat over her shoulders and took her arm. ‘You’ll do what you’re told. You’ll go home and get some sleep.’
She didn’t resist. She walked with him to the car park, and insisted he drive her home. ‘I’m too upset to drive. Leave your car here. You can pick it up later.’ She gave him her keys.
‘What are we going to do about Johnny?’ she asked. ‘He was born with such a disadvantage.’
‘He was?’ This was news to Alistair.
‘Oh yes, he’s beautiful. Not like us people who have ordinary faces. His is perfect. That’s why I called him Johnny. He needed an easy name, but one that was also romantic. His beauty might be ruined now. Glass from the windscreen. He’ll be scarred.’
It started to rain. Alistair switched on the screen wipers and said that scars heal.
‘Yes, but they leave their mark. You and me were blessed to be born ugly. If you’d been beautiful you’d never have become a lawyer.’
‘I think I would have.’
‘No. Coping with beauty would have worn you out.’
Alistair said he hadn’t known being beautiful was exhausting. ‘Anyway, I don’t think I’m ugly. Plain, perhaps, but not ugly.’