Authors: Rita Bradshaw
The Rainbow Years (17 page)
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?’
She supposed her face had already given her away and after closing the door behind her she walked across to stand in front of the desk. He waved at the chair she usually sat in while he drank his tea or coffee and they had their little chats but today she remained standing. ‘I need to ask you something, sir,’ she said evenly.
‘Yes? What is it?’
‘Did you tell Mr Mallard to give me the job in the restaurant? ’ She was watching him closely but the only reaction was a wrinkling of his brow.
‘I’m sorry, Amy, I don’t quite understand.’ He leaned back in the big chair, resting his elbows on the upholstered arms. ‘Mr Mallard has offered you a position in the restaurant?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘And why would you think I had asked him to do that?’ She knew her face was red because she could feel the hot colour burning her skin. ‘I didn’t, not at first, but then . . .’ She didn’t know how to go on. She took a deep breath. ‘People seem to think it was because you had singled me out for the position. They think it was favouritism.’
‘People?’
‘I . . . I can’t say who, sir. I’m sorry. I promised, you see, and I wouldn’t want to get anyone into trouble.’
‘That’s not good enough. If there is talk of this nature it needs to be stopped. I insist on knowing, Amy.’
She hadn’t heard him speak in such a hard voice before and now a sense of panic was uppermost. He was going to be awkward and she couldn’t blame him but she hadn’t been prepared for this. She threw caution to the wind. ‘The thing is . . .’
‘Yes, what is the thing?’ he asked when she stopped in confusion.
‘The thing is most of the people employed here have families who are out of work. I know the slump is bad in the south where you come from, Mr Callendar, but it’s worse here. The shipbuilding and the mines are on short time and shifts are being cut, everyone’s scared to death of the workhouse. ’ She stopped, he wasn’t interested in all this. ‘I really can’t say who told me,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘I see.’ Charles waved at the chair again. ‘Well, sit down at least.’
Nothing more was said until she sat down. A good ten seconds ticked by and then Amy said again, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Stop apologising, for crying out loud.You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.’
The bark in his voice brought her stiff and tense but to her horror she felt the pricking of tears at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t cry, not in front of Mr Callendar, she told herself, fighting the tears.
Then he said in a much quieter voice, ‘I’m the one who is sorry, Amy, for snapping at you, but this sort of thing makes me so mad. Look, I had absolutely nothing to do with Mr Mallard offering you the job, all right? Mr Mallard is my manager and he makes those sort of decisions with the staff who work here. I still like to have the final say in any new staff we take on but once people are working here, any promotions are left to Mr Mallard. Like the old Chinese proverb goes, why keep a dog and bark yourself?’
He was trying to make a little joke but for the life of her she couldn’t respond by smiling. But his voice had carried the ring of truth and she didn’t doubt him.
‘If Mr Mallard thinks you’re good enough to work in the restaurant it’s because you are and that’s all.’ He paused. ‘I should imagine the extra money will come in very handy at home so just look forward to the new opportunity and forget all this. I’m afraid when you get a bunch of women working together there are always petty jealousies and friction if one person does particularly well.’ He grimaced. ‘Oh dear, did that sound bigoted? Emmeline Pankhurst would be turning in her grave, no doubt. Thirteen years after the vote for women and I make a statement like that. I suppose you’re a champion of women’s rights like most girls these days.’
Was she? She didn’t really know enough about all that or lots of other things if it came to it but that was another thing she could look up at the library when she got the chance. Mr Callendar often set her mind thinking by the odd little remark he made, and since her chats with him she had realised how ignorant she was.
She smiled, eager to promote the lightness which had come into their conversation. ‘If by that you mean me telling my aunt I wasn’t going to be chief cook and bottle-washer at home any more now I was working, then yes.’
He nodded. ‘Good grief, yes, I’d forgotten about that. It caused ructions for days, didn’t it? But you were wise to start as you meant to carry on.’
‘That’s what Kitty said.’ There followed a silence during which their eyes met and held. Suddenly Amy felt flustered. She was finding Ellen’s words had changed the way she looked at Mr Callendar somehow. She’d always regarded him as her employer, and during their talks she had often felt sad for him when he had revealed what his family were like, but now she was seeing him as a man. A very attractive, engaging man. And she realised just how much she would miss their private talks if they stopped.
She stood up hastily. ‘I had better get back to the café.’
‘Of course. And please don’t concern yourself about this.’ He stood up with the politeness which was habitual with him and she inclined her head before turning and walking over to the door. She left the room without glancing backwards.
Dear gussy! Alone again, Charles plumped down in his seat with enough force to make the chair creak in protest. Well, he had known it would happen one day, hadn’t he? Ironic it had come about by something he’d had no hand in whatsoever, though. But of course all these months of having her bring his morning coffee and afternoon tea had set the tongues wagging, and he
had
arranged that. But the need to talk to her, to find out more about this child woman had been overwhelming in the beginning, and then the more he’d discovered, the more fascinated he’d become. And she
was
fascinating, Miss Amy Shawe.
had
arranged that. But the need to talk to her, to find out more about this child woman had been overwhelming in the beginning, and then the more he’d discovered, the more fascinated he’d become. And she
was
fascinating, Miss Amy Shawe.
He swivelled round in the chair to face the window. But she was still a complete innocent, even if her outward form had matured dramatically in the last year. It had seemed quite incredible to him at first, the fact that she had come from the tangle of mean streets in this dockside town and yet was as she was. Damn it, he’d been an arrogant so-and-so when he had first arrived here. A grim smile touched his mouth. Thinking that only the upper classes could have finer feelings. He had since learned that working-class respectability was fiercer and more unforgiving than anything he had known in his hitherto sheltered life.
He half turned, reaching into the drawer for the whisky bottle and glass. He would have to stop drinking so much. It was something he told himself several times a day, every day. The neat alcohol warmed him and the bottle had gone down an inch or two by the time he replaced it in its hideyhole.
He shouldn’t have put Amy in the position where she could become a focus of common gossip. He’d had his warning from Robin even before the girl had started working for him. He sighed, shaking his head. But he had found he was selfish where Amy was concerned, selfish and weak. The only thing to his credit was that he hadn’t told her how he felt, nor would he until she was some months older, perhaps approaching sixteen or just after. Of course he had no idea how she’d view his attentions or whether she would think he was too old for her. She liked him, but liking wasn’t loving.
He sat for some minutes more, lost in thought, his eyes cloudy, and this time when he reached into the drawer he did not reproach himself.
Chapter 8
Bruce glanced round the table as Amy told them her news. His family’s reactions varied but none was a surprise to him. His father was genuinely pleased for her, his mother was thinking only of the extra housekeeping coming her way, Eva was as jealous as blazes and Harriet, as ever, was taking her cue from Eva. Betsy and Ruth and the youngest two were interested only in their dinner. These responses, if not all favourable, were relatively normal. And then there was his brother. Bruce turned his head and looked directly at Perce who was stolidly eating, his eyes on his plate, but his brother’s impassive stance didn’t fool him.
When had it first dawned on him that Perce liked Amy, and moreover that his cousin was aware of Perce’s feelings and did not welcome them? He wasn’t sure. It could only be a matter of weeks ago. He was probably as thick as two short planks not to have noticed earlier.
Bruce speared a piece of mutton with his fork and began to chew, his thoughts centred on Perce. He had hero-worshipped his brother at one time. Perce had always been broader and bulkier than him and had made sure the school bullies left him alone when they were younger. Lately, though, since Perce had got mixed up with Stan and his cronies, his brother had changed. Or perhaps he’d always had a bit of a nasty streak, like their Granda Shawe, and he’d never noticed. Whatever, since they had been on short time he had the feeling Perce was sailing close to the wind more and more, involving himself in shady deals with the motley crew from the East End he was so pally with. Not that his mam minded, not with Perce slipping her extra housekeeping often as not. Perce wasn’t mean, he’d say that for him.
Thomas, sitting at the side of him, spluttered over a piece of the mutton stew he was eating, half choking, and Bruce’s mind returned to concrete things for a moment. ‘Steady on, you.’ He patted the small boy on the back, half laughing, and Thomas’s bright eyes laughed back at him. It was no coincidence the child was sitting next to him. Thomas looked up to him in the same way he himself had looked up to Perce in years gone by, and the pair of them had a bond which didn’t exist with his other siblings.
He took his eyes from the child and glanced at his father who was congratulating Amy on her move to the restaurant.
Ronald’s gaze met his in the next instant and as though he knew Bruce was the only member of the family who would give the right response, he said, ‘Doing all right for herself, isn’t she? Twelve months and she’s already on her way up.’
Bruce smiled at his father but spoke directly to his cousin when he said, ‘More than all right. You’ll be manageress of that place before you’re finished, lass.’
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