Yew Tree Gardens (11 page)

She enjoyed writing numbers neatly in the long columns, proud of her penmanship, practising on odd pages that Mr Greaves provided, which had a few figures crossed out neatly at the top. She loved to see the way the money balanced out at the bottom.

Such big sums of money! So many details to get right! It was even more complicated running a big hotel than she’d expected.

Her love affair with accounts continued when she went back to the catering side. This time it was Miss Green who took her through the tea shop accounts and, when she picked that up quite quickly, said grudgingly that she could see she had little to teach Irene.

After that Miss Green was a bit friendlier to her. It was as if the new assistant had passed some sort of test.

Next Renie was passed to Monsieur Leduc, who ran the restaurant, but before she started, Mrs Tolson said she needed smarter clothes now. They found her a very attractive skirt and
jacket, dark grey with black braid round the hem and jacket edges. There were also three white blouses. And she was told to pull her hair back into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Wisps came out, of course, because her hair was fine and slightly wavy, but she tucked them in again whenever she noticed.

All these clothes had to be paid for, but as they were second hand, they weren’t as expensive as Renie had feared. Apparently some people left clothes behind in their hotel rooms – either intentionally or by mistake, no one knew which – and they didn’t bother to send for them. Imagine having so many clothes you could lose some and not care, perhaps not even notice! She moved some of her well-worn old clothing up to her trunk in the attic.

Renie hardly recognised herself in the mirror the first morning she wore the new outfit. Looking so smart gave her confidence. When she went into the staff dining room, everyone fell silent and stared at her.

‘You look lovely,’ Daff said loudly.

‘Thank you.’

Another girl said, ‘I like the shape of that skirt.’

Most of them gave Renie dirty looks, though.

She was so nervous, she couldn’t eat her breakfast. When she pushed her food to the side of her plate and set down her knife and fork, Daff whispered, ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’

Her voice came out as a croak. ‘I’m too nervous.’

‘I would be too, if I had to deal with His Majesty.’ She rolled her eyes. Mr Leduc was universally feared by the waitresses, for his scorn and his loud voice, his complaints and his tendency to tip a plate of food on the floor if they disturbed the food on it, and tell the waitress to carry it properly next time.

Renie got to his office ten minutes early. She didn’t know whether to go back and wait until the exact time he’d specified, or whether to stay outside. In the end she stayed, because she was terrified of something making her late if she left the area.

As it turned out, he seemed to sense that she was there because he poked his head out of the door and stared at her. ‘Why did you not knock, Miss Fuller?’

‘I’m too early.’

He shrugged. ‘Come in. Punctuality is, at least, a proper start.’ He went to sit behind his desk and studied her. ‘You are a good girl?’

She gaped at him, then drew herself up. ‘If you mean what I think, yes, I am.’

‘I ’ave not seen you flirting, that I will admit. See that you continue to behave yourself when you work with the men. I will not allow flirting in my area.’

‘Then I’d be obliged if you’d tell your cooks and waiters the same thing. We girls have trouble with them.’

He became thoughtful. ‘It is natural for men to look.’

‘And touch?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘They do that?’

‘Yes.’

‘That is too much. I do not believe in women working as waitresses, but since the ’otel chooses to do this, I shall speak to my staff about you. You will ’ave no trouble in my area.’

‘Thank you, Mr Leduc.’

‘You will call me “Monsieur”. It is the French for “mister”. Just “Monsieur”.’

‘Very well. Could you say it again, please? I’d only read it in books till I came to the Rathleigh and I said it wrong in my head.’ She listened and repeated the word after him till he nodded.

‘
Bien.
You ’ave it perfectly correct now.’

‘Thank you, monsieur.’

‘Today you stay with me. You follow be’ind me, or you stand where I tell you, and you watch. Very carefully, you watch. Nothing more yet. You are to learn first ’ow the restaurants and kitchens operate.’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

It was a long, tiring day. And to her embarrassment, she had to explain to him when she had to go to the lavatory because he allowed her no time for this. He didn’t seem embarrassed by it, but when she came back, he said, ‘I will give you five minutes every two hours to attend to your needs. Also, you will be provided with lunch and a cup of English tea or of coffee, as you prefer, whenever I myself take refreshment. Is that satisfactory?’

‘Yes. Thank you very much, monsieur.’

That was only one of the embarrassing things about working in a man’s world. The men still looked at her. They might have been warned not to say anything or touch her, but they still looked at her in ways that made her feel uncomfortable, as if she had no clothes on.

She couldn’t let this continue, so practised in front of a mirror to get the right expression on her face for dealing with them. She managed a cool, scornful look similar to one she’d seen a young lady use in the café when a flashy gentleman, who was trying to flirt with her, said something that made her draw herself upright and stop talking to him.

It wasn’t going to be easy working with Monsieur, though. He wanted you to be perfect in everything.

The trouble was,
he
seemed never to make a mistake.

Two weeks later when Renie was on the way back to the hotel after a brisk walk on her afternoon off, she noticed a man sitting in Yew Tree Gardens with his face turned up to the spring sunshine. It wasn’t really warm today, but she too was enjoying the brightness, which took her mind off her worries about her sister, so she smiled sympathetically.

It was his smile that attracted her and the way he was enjoying the same simple pleasure she did. Then she couldn’t help noticing how handsome he was, a bit older than her, but still not all that old. From his clothing, he was a gentleman, so would never look twice at her. If he was a customer at the hotel, she shouldn’t be staring at him. Or was he a customer? She had a feeling she’d seen him before in the gardens, in the distance. Perhaps he lived nearby.

She looked away and saw a flower bed filled with tulips. It was so pretty, she went across to admire it. She loved flowers, always had. Their colours seemed so much more alive than the same colours in magazines or dress materials. There had been few flowers in her life in Swindon, and even fewer in Lancashire.

They had vases of flowers in the hotel, but she preferred the ones in gardens. They looked happier, somehow, and would surely last longer.

As she turned to continue her walk, the man stood up and started off towards an older man, who had come along the street. She saw that the younger man was walking with a limp and there was something wrong with his arm, too. He must have been in an accident, poor fellow.

But if you were rich, that wouldn’t make half as much difference to your life as it would if you were poor. He’d not lose everything.

Suddenly she heard a newsboy calling out shrilly, followed by cries and shouts. She turned to see what had made the regular newsboy behave like that in front of the Rathleigh, because he surely knew better.

Only this time the doorman didn’t come out to chase him away and he continued to yell.

People in the street and park had turned to see what was going on and those closer began making their way towards the lad.

The words he was shouting and those on his poster sank in and she too gasped.

‘The
Titanic’
s sunk!’ yelled a man hurrying past.

She was shocked rigid. It was a brand-new ship and she’d heard guests talking about it, seen it in the newspapers. How could a brand-new ship sink?

And, oh dear! Miss Cholmondley-Berne had been sailing
on it. She was a dear old lady, a regular customer who always tipped well and was liked by the staff.

Renie was so upset to think of her drowning, she didn’t look where she was going and bumped into someone. It took her only a few seconds to realise it was the man she’d been watching. She had to steady him because she’d hit him hard and caught him off balance. ‘I’m so sorry, sir! I wasn’t watching where I was going.’

‘I’m all right. Are you?’

‘Oh yes, I’m fine. I was just upset about the news.’

He turned to look towards the news seller and called to the older man, who was now a few paces away. ‘Walter, could you get me a paper? I don’t want to risk myself among those crowds.’

The older man went off and Renie lingered, wanting to see what the newspaper said. She looked at her companion uncertainly. If he seemed annoyed that she was still there, she’d move on. But instead he spoke to her.

‘Do you want to hear more about the
Titanic
, too?’

‘If you don’t mind, sir. One of our favourite customers from the hotel was sailing on it.’

His face went suddenly white. ‘Dear God, my eldest brother was on it, too. How could I possibly have forgotten that? Not only him, but his wife and two little children.’

Her heart went out to him. ‘All the passengers can’t have died, surely?’

‘I pray not. They do carry lifeboats on those big ships. It depends how quickly it sank, I suppose.’ He watched his friend join the queue and wait for a newspaper.

He spoke to Renie again, but absently, as if his thoughts were elsewhere and he was only being polite. ‘What do you do at the hotel?’

‘I’m assistant to the housekeeper. It’s a new sort of job, to help our lady customers.’

‘What they call a
new woman,
are you, eh?’

She smiled. She’d read that phrase but no one she knew had ever used it about her. Still, she liked the idea. ‘I hope so. As much as I can be. Times are changing, aren’t they?’

The older man returned just then and her companion stopped trying to smile and make conversation.

The two of them studied the front page of the newspaper, looking upset, searching for a certain name: Rycroft. From what they said, the younger man was called Gil. Short for Gilbert, probably. And if he had the same surname as his brother, it was Rycroft. The other was called Walter. They didn’t seem to want her to leave, so she waited, standing quietly next to them. She tried to work out what had happened as she listened to their exclamations and comments.

‘It says the early reports which stated that all the people on board had been saved were wrong,’ Gil said.

Their heads bent closer to the newspaper.

‘Oh, no! It’s now believed that two-thirds of the passengers and crew have been lost!’ Gil stopped reading for a moment. ‘That’s shocking. Surely they had enough lifeboats for all? It was a modern, well-found ship. Everyone was proud of it. My brother was excited to be going on its first voyage, said it would be an experience of a lifetime.’

‘They can’t have had enough lifeboats if they’ve lost so many people,’ Walter said. ‘Or else it happened too quickly.’

‘We must pray that Robert and his family were among the survivors. Poor Harriet! And those two little girls! What must they have gone through!’

Renie laid one hand on his arm without thinking. ‘I’m so sorry, sir. I hope they’ll be all right.’

She shouldn’t have touched a stranger like that, but she could see how upset he was.

He patted her hand before she took it away, as if he found her sympathy comforting.

She knew better than to linger and pester a gentleman, let alone a person facing such a terrible family tragedy. ‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate you letting me know more.’

‘Good luck with your new job.’

Even in his distress, he’d tried to be kind to her. What a nice man! Pity the hotel guests weren’t all like him.

Gil watched her go and admitted to himself that when she’d touched him, for the first time – the very first time since his accident – he’d felt a twinge of desire. And he hadn’t been imagining it, because it was the last thing he’d expected after hearing such news.

He didn’t even know her name, but she was pretty and fresh-looking, with a lively, intelligent expression. Any man would find her attractive. In the past, he’d usually gone for pretty faces and soft, plump bodies, never mind whether the women were stupid, but this woman was … different somehow.

Anyone could tell that she wasn’t a loose woman, so he could do nothing about his feelings. He didn’t believe in corrupting innocent young women, even if they were from the lower classes, whom some men of his acquaintance considered fair game.

He’d enjoyed hearing her speak, too, a slower, gentler accent than you normally heard in London. Come to think
of it, she sounded as if she was from Wiltshire, but with something else in her voice, as if she’d lived elsewhere.

He’d probably never see her again, but he was deeply grateful to her for wakening his senses. It gave him hope that one day he might feel himself a proper man again, even be able to marry and have children. Was that possible? Dare he hope?

What was the old saying?
One swallow does not a summer make.
He mustn’t get his hopes too high. But still …

Then he remembered his eldest brother Robert, who had children, two delightful little daughters. Gil dismissed his own problems, which were minor matters. Robert and his family had been on the
Titanic
, might even have been killed.

Please, God, let them all have got off the ship safely!

‘We’d better visit my parents, Walter, and catch a later train back to Swindon. They might need me.’ He didn’t always visit them when he came to London, because they always found something to nag him about, couldn’t seem to believe that he was happy living at Oakdene House. But this was a time for families to stick together.

He found his mother at home, trying and failing to keep a stiff upper lip. She fell into Gil’s arms and for the first time he found himself in the comforting, supporting role with her.

‘They must be safe. They must be. They can’t be dead. Not my lovely boy! Not those little girls.’ She sobbed against his chest.

‘We must hope for the best, pray for them.’ Such trite words, but what else could he say? He felt so helpless.

‘Your father’s gone to the club to see if he can find out more there.’ She mopped her eyes again. ‘I don’t know why he thinks he will. He should have stayed home to comfort
me, be with me, in case we … heard something.’

Gil could guess exactly why his father had gone out. His father couldn’t cope with sadness and tears, even in a minor way. And now, with a family tragedy possible, he wouldn’t know how to deal with a wife in such distress.

‘You won’t leave me, Gil, will you?’ she begged. ‘Not till we know?’

‘Of course I won’t.’

In the end, he sent Walter to buy a few things they needed and used his old clothes from the attic, sharing some of them with Walter. His mother wanted him with her at all times and clung tightly to his hand every time the parlourmaid brought in the latest edition of a newspaper.

He realised in mild surprise that his parents had probably never faced anything so disastrous. They’d had a pleasant, uneventful life and hadn’t lost a child, as so many families did. His own accident had been the worst they’d faced.

If Gil hadn’t learnt the hard way to cope with problems, he’d be no use to them now. Strange to be thankful for that. He knew now that you could face major upsets in life and continue. They had yet to learn that.

But perhaps Robert and his family would be all right. After all, a third of the people on board the ship had survived, so there was a fairly good chance Robert might have been among the lucky ones.

Not as good a chance that all four of them had survived, though. He shivered. What a dreadful thought.

Renie hurried round to the rear of the hotel and went in by the employees’ entrance. She found the staff upset by the tragedy, stopping in small groups to discuss it and share
the latest news. She didn’t join in these conversations, but nodded occasionally or muttered, ‘Mmm’ or ‘Terrible’.

It seemed that several of their regular customers had been on the ship. That wasn’t like having family on it, though. She felt sorry about the customers in a vague way, but she felt far more sorry for that poor young man whose brother had been involved. She remembered his surname, would check the lists of deaths that would surely be published in the newspapers to see if anyone called Rycroft was on it.

It was none of her business, but she couldn’t help being interested. Gil was such a good-looking man, and so kind. Very different from her brother-in-law Cliff, or the men who sometimes pestered her at the markets. She’d have liked to get to know Gil.

There she went again, daydreaming like an idiot. A gentleman like that wouldn’t even look twice at a girl like her, and even if he did, he’d not marry her, even if she wanted to get married, which she didn’t. At least most of the time she thought she didn’t …

But still …

‘Oh, Irene, there you are.’

She turned. ‘Yes, Mrs Tolson?’

‘Could you please stay in the foyer and keep an eye open for lady customers who might need soothing.’

Renie did that, and was able to provide cups of tea and encouragement to keep their hopes up to two elderly ladies, whose nephew was on the
Titanic,
and later to the wife of a regular customer who had also sailed on that ship.

It was a strange sort of day at the hotel. Customers were upset by the sinking of the
Titanic,
even when they didn’t have friends or relatives involved. Staff were upset
too. New editions of each newspaper were rushed in and snatched from the counter before their purchase could be noted against the room numbers.

In the end, Mr Greaves sent a message round to all staff to stay calm, and they tried, they really did. But it was such a terrible tragedy that the smallest thing would set some of the women off weeping.

Mrs Tolson came to find her later. ‘You’ve done well today, Irene. Mr Greaves saw you help those old ladies and was very pleased about how you did it. They needed a woman, not a man, at a time like that.’

‘Thank you. I was glad I could help them.’

‘Once this fuss is over and done with, we’ll be moving you into the office for a while.’ She smiled as she added, ‘And you’ll have a new title from now on – “housekeeper’s assistant”. We’ll raise your wages to go with that. You’ve worked very hard, and both Mr Greaves and I are proud of you. Young as you are, you’re doing just what he wanted.’

When she was alone, Renie couldn’t help beaming. She had tried her hardest not to let them down. She’d paid for her new status in loneliness and less money, but now she was about to get her reward. Housekeeper’s assistant! How grand that sounded. Nell would be so pleased.

The news came to the Rycrofts at last and it was very bad. Gil’s father was at his club, his brother Jonathon was at home in Tonbridge Wells, where his wife had inherited a house. As second son, Jonathon had become a lawyer and had joined his wife’s uncle’s practice. In fact, it had been a very useful marriage in several ways and Jonathon was doing very well for himself. He was now awaiting the birth of his first child.

When the butler brought the telegram in to Gil’s mother, she took it with a hand that trembled and dismissed him with a mutter.

She sat staring at the telegram for so long, Gil took her hand. ‘Shall I open it for you, Mother?’