Clifton Chronicles 01 - Only Time Will Tell (16 page)

Maisie wasn’t sure who to discuss the problem with. Stan was bound to be against the idea, and wasn’t likely to consider the other side of the argument. Miss Tilly was too close a friend of Miss Monday’s to give a dispassionate view, and the Reverend Watts had already advised her to seek the Lord’s guidance, which hadn’t proved particularly reliable in the past. Mr Frobisher had seemed such a nice man, but he’d made it clear that only she could make the final decision. Mr Holcombe hadn’t left her in any doubt how he felt.

Maisie didn’t give Mr Frampton another thought until she’d finished serving her last customer. She then exchanged a pinafore for her old coat.

Miss Tilly watched through the window as Maisie set off in the direction of the Royal Hotel. She felt a little anxious, but wasn’t sure why.

Although Maisie had never been in the Royal before, she knew it had the reputation of being one of the best-run hotels in the West Country, and the chance to see it from the inside was one of the reasons she’d agreed to see Mr Frampton.

She stood on the opposite pavement and watched as customers pushed their way through the revolving doors. She’d never seen anything quite like them, and only when she felt confident she’d got the hang of how they worked did she cross the road and step inside. She pushed a little too hard and found herself propelled into the foyer more quickly than she’d anticipated.

Maisie looked around and spotted Mr Frampton sitting alone in a quiet alcove in the corner of the foyer. She walked across to join him. He immediately rose from his place, shook hands with her, and waited until she had taken the seat opposite him.

‘Can I order you a coffee, Mrs Clifton?’ he asked, and before she could reply he added, ‘I should warn you, it’s not in the same class as Tilly’s.’

‘No, thank you, Mr Frampton,’ said Maisie, whose only interest was to find out why he wanted to see her.

Mr Frampton took his time lighting a cigarette, then inhaled deeply. ‘Mrs Clifton,’ he began as he placed the cigarette on the ashtray, ‘you cannot have failed to notice that I have recently become a regular customer at Tilly’s.’ Maisie nodded. ‘I have to confess that my only reason for visiting the café was you.’ Maisie had her well-prepared ‘amorous suitor’ line ready for just as soon as he stopped talking. ‘In all the years I’ve been in the hotel trade,’ he continued, ‘I’ve never seen anyone do their job more efficiently than you. I only wish that every waitress in this hotel was of your calibre.’

‘I’ve been well trained,’ said Maisie.

‘So have the other four waitresses in that tea shop, but none of them has your flair.’

‘I’m flattered, Mr Frampton. But why are you telling—’

‘I am the general manager of this hotel,’ he said, ‘and I’d like you to take charge of our coffee room, which is known as the Palm Court. As you can see – ’ he waved a hand expansively – ‘we have about a hundred covers, but less than a third of the places are regularly occupied. That’s not exactly a worthwhile return on the company’s investment. No doubt that would change if you were to take over. I believe I can make it worth your while.’

Maisie didn’t interrupt him.

‘I can’t see why your hours should differ greatly from those of your current employment. I’d be willing to pay you five pounds a week, and all the tips earned by the waitresses in the Palm Court would be split fifty-fifty with you. If you were able to build up the clientele, that could prove very remunerative. And then I—’

‘But I couldn’t think of leaving Miss Tilly,’ interrupted Maisie. ‘She’s been so good to me over the past six years.’

‘I fully appreciate your feelings, Mrs Clifton. Indeed, I would have been disappointed if that had not been your immediate response. Loyalty is a trait I greatly admire. However, you must not only consider your own future, but also your son’s, should he take up the offer of a choral scholarship to St Bede’s.’

Maisie was speechless.

When Maisie finished work that evening, she found Eddie sitting in his car outside the tea shop waiting for her. She noticed that he didn’t jump out to open the passenger door this time.

‘So, where are you taking me?’ she asked as she climbed in beside him.

‘It’s a surprise,’ said Eddie as he pressed the starter, ‘but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’

He pushed the gear lever into first, and headed towards a part of the city that Maisie hadn’t visited before. A few minutes later, he drove into a side alley and came to a halt outside a large oak door below a neon sign that announced in glowing red letters, EDDIE’S NIGHTCLUB.

‘This is yours?’ asked Maisie.

‘Every square inch,’ said Eddie proudly. ‘Come inside and see for yourself.’ He leapt out of the car, opened the front door and led Maisie inside. ‘This used to be a granary,’ he explained as he took her down a narrow wooden staircase. ‘But now that ships can no longer sail this far up the river, the company’s had to move, so I was able to pick up their lease for a very reasonable price.’

Maisie entered a large, dimly lit room. It was some time before her eyes had adjusted well enough to take it all in. There were half a dozen men sitting on high leather stools drinking at the bar, and almost as many waitresses fluttering around them. The wall behind the bar consisted of a vast mirror, giving the impression the room was far larger than it actually was. At the centre was a dance floor, surrounded by plush velvet banquettes that would just about seat two people. At the far end was a small stage with a piano, double bass, a set of drums and several music stands.

Eddie took a seat at the bar. Looking around the room he said, ‘This is why I’ve been spending so much time in America. Speakeasies like this are springing up all over New York and Chicago, and they’re making a fortune.’ He lit a cigar. ‘And I promise you, there won’t be anything else like this in Bristol, that’s for sure.’

‘That’s for sure,’ Maisie repeated as she joined him at the bar, but didn’t attempt to climb up on to one of the high stools.

‘What’s your poison, doll?’ said Eddie, in what he imagined to be an American accent.

‘I don’t drink,’ Maisie reminded him.

‘That’s one of the reasons I chose you.’

‘Chose me?’

‘Sure. You’d be the ideal person to take charge of the cocktail waitresses. Not only would I pay you six pounds a week, but if the place takes off, the tips alone would be more than you could ever hope to earn at Tilly’s.’

‘And would I be expected to dress like that?’ asked Maisie, pointing to one of the waitresses who was wearing an off-the-shoulder red blouse and a tight-fitting black skirt that barely covered her knees. It amused Maisie that they were the same colours as the St Bede’s uniform.

‘Why not? You’re a great-lookin’ broad, and the punters will pay good money to be served by someone like you. You’ll get the odd proposition, of course, but I feel sure you can handle that.’

‘What’s the point of a dance floor if it’s a men-only club?’

‘Another idea I picked up from the States,’ said Eddie. ‘If you want to dance with one of the cocktail waitresses, it’ll cost you.’

‘And what else does that cost include?’

‘That’s up to them,’ said Eddie with a shrug of the shoulders. ‘So long as it doesn’t take place on the premises, nothing to do with me,’ he added, laughing a little too loudly. Maisie didn’t laugh. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked.

‘I think I’d better be getting home,’ said Maisie. ‘I didn’t have time to let Harry know I’d be late.’

‘Whatever you say, honey,’ said Eddie. He draped an arm around her shoulder and led her out of the bar and back up the stairs.

As he drove her to Still House Lane, he told Maisie about his plans for the future. ‘I’ve already got my eye on a second site,’ he said excitedly, ‘so the sky’s the limit.’

‘The sky’s the limit,’ Maisie repeated, as they drew up outside No. 27.

Maisie jumped out of the car and walked quickly to the front door.

‘So will you need a few days to think it over?’ said Eddie, chasing after her.

‘No, thank you, Eddie,’ said Maisie without hesitation. ‘I’ve already made up my mind,’ she added, taking a key out of her handbag.

Eddie grinned and put an arm around her. ‘I didn’t think it would be a difficult decision for you to make.’

Maisie removed the arm, smiled sweetly and said, ‘It’s kind of you to consider me, honey, but I think I’ll stick to serving coffee.’ She opened her front door before adding, ‘But thanks for asking.’

‘Anything you say, doll, but if you change your mind, my door is always open.’

Maisie closed the door behind her.

14

M
AISIE FINALLY SETTLED ON
the one person she felt she could seek advice from. She decided to turn up at the docks unannounced and hope he’d be around when she knocked on his door.

She didn’t tell either Stan or Harry who she was visiting. One of them would try to stop her, while the other would feel she’d betrayed a confidence.

Maisie waited until her day off, and once she had dropped Harry at school, she took a tram to the dockyard. She had chosen her time carefully: late morning, when he was still likely to be in his office, while Stan would be fully occupied loading or unloading cargo at the other end of the dock.

Maisie told the man on the gate that she’d come to apply for a job as a cleaner. He pointed indifferently towards the redbrick building and still didn’t remember her.

As she walked towards Barrington House, Maisie looked up at the windows on the fifth floor and wondered which office was his. She recalled her encounter with Mrs Nettles, and the way she had been shown the door the moment she mentioned her name. Now Maisie not only had a job she enjoyed and where she was respected, but she’d had two other offers in the past few days. She didn’t give Mrs Nettles another thought as she walked straight past the building and continued along the quayside.

Maisie didn’t slacken her pace until she could see his home. She found it hard to believe that anyone could possibly live in a railway carriage, and began to wonder if she’d made a dreadful mistake. Had Harry’s stories of a dining room, a bedroom and even a library, been exaggerated? ‘You can’t stop now you’ve come this far, Maisie Clifton,’ she told herself, and knocked boldly on the carriage door.

‘Come in, Mrs Clifton,’ said a gentle voice.

Maisie opened the door to find an old man sitting in a comfortable seat, with books and other possessions scattered around him. She was surprised how clean the carriage was, and realized that, despite Stan’s claims, it was she, and not Old Jack, who lived in third class. Stan had perpetuated a myth that had been ignored when viewed through the eyes of an unprejudiced child.

Old Jack immediately rose from his place and beckoned her towards the seat opposite. ‘You’ll have come to see me about young Harry, no doubt.’

‘Yes, Mr Tar,’ she replied.

‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘You can’t make up your mind whether he should go to St Bede’s, or remain at Merrywood Elementary.’

‘How could you possibly know that?’ asked Maisie.

‘Because I’ve been considering the same problem for the past month,’ said Old Jack.

‘So what do you think he should do?’

‘I think that despite the many difficulties he will undoubtedly face at St Bede’s, if he doesn’t take this opportunity, he could well spend the rest of his life regretting it.’

‘Perhaps he won’t win a scholarship and the decision will be taken out of our hands.’

‘The decision was taken out of our hands,’ said Old Jack, ‘the moment Mr Frobisher heard young Harry sing. But I have a feeling that wasn’t the only reason you came to see me.’

Maisie was beginning to understand why Harry admired this man so much. ‘You’re quite right, Mr Tar, I need your advice on another matter.’

‘Your son calls me Jack, except when he’s cross with me, then he calls me Old Jack.’

Maisie smiled. ‘I’ve been worried that even if he did win a scholarship, I wasn’t earning enough for Harry to have all the little extras that the other boys at a school like St Bede’s take for granted. But fortunately I’ve just been offered another job, which would mean more money.’

‘And you’re worried about how Miss Tilly will react when you tell her you’re thinking of leaving?’

‘You know Miss Tilly?’

‘No, but Harry has spoken of her many times. She’s clearly from the same mould as Miss Monday, and let me assure you, that’s a limited edition. There’s no need for you to concern yourself.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Maisie.

‘Allow me to explain,’ said Old Jack. ‘Miss Monday has already invested a great deal of her time and expertise in making sure that Harry not only wins a scholarship to St Bede’s but, far more important, goes on to prove himself worthy of it. My bet is that she will have discussed every possible eventuality with her closest friend, who just happens to be Miss Tilly. So when you tell her about the new job, you may well find it doesn’t come as a complete surprise.’

‘Thank you, Jack,’ said Maisie. ‘How lucky Harry is to have you as a friend. The father he never knew,’ she said softly.

‘That is the nicest compliment I’ve received for a good many years,’ said Old Jack. ‘I’m only sorry that he lost his father in such tragic circumstances.’