At Home by the Sea

by Pam Weaver

  With no watch and no means of knowing the time, it seemed an age before the door finally flew open, and the inspector said, ‘You are free to go.’

  Izzie stared in disbelief. So, that was it? She’d been paraded through the streets like a common criminal, accused of stealing and stuck in a police cell overnight and now all he said was, ‘you are free to go’? She swallowed down the desire to rant and rave about the unfairness of it all, afraid if she made a fuss he’d lock her up for disorderly behaviour or something.

  ‘You rang them?’ she said coldly.

  ‘Yes and they verified your story.’

  ‘Does Mrs Shilling know?’

  ‘My officer has gone round there to explain.’

  Izzie waited. No apology. Nothing. He stepped back and she flounced past him with her nose in the air. In the custody room she was handed back her handbag and the bits and pieces she’d had in her pockets and then they opened the door. And oh the joy when she stepped out into the street.

  Eighteen

  Giacomo Semadini stepped back and looked around his new premises. The past few weeks had been a lot of hard work getting the paperwork done but everything was finally coming into shape. Before it opened, the Café Bellissimo had to be perfect. First he planned to change the brown and tan walls of Mabel’s café; Giacomo would paint them a very delicate shade of pink and the window frames would be white, giving the whole room a much lighter, brighter ambiance. The high backed chairs with crushed velvet cushions had arrived and soon they would be placed under the small round tables which would be covered with snow white table cloths. All that was left now was to sort out the kitchen and once his two cousins got busy in the kitchen, the counters would groan with their delectable cakes and pastries.

  Giacomo smiled to himself as he fingered the precious little toy mascot in his jacket pocket. Who knows? Perhaps his grandmother was right. Maybe one day this little bear would bring him luck and the girl he loved. He looked around once more and let out a satisfied sigh. There was no doubt about it, his creation for Worthing would be a masterpiece, a tea room unlike any other and a place where women (for most of his customers were women) would be seen and pampered according to his own unique style. All he needed now was to find some really good waitresses but, as always, he would be picky about his choice. The girls working in his shop had to be just right.

  *

  On a bright sunny afternoon in March, Izzie stood outside the Café Bellissimo smoothing down her coat and making sure her beret was on straight. She paused and looked up at the shop front. Newly refurbished, it looked much more attractive than it ever had done when it was called Mabel’s. She experienced a pang of loss which constricted her throat for a fleeting moment as she recalled the times when she used to wheel old Mrs Shilling past Mabel’s.

  When the feeling had passed, Izzie drew in a deep breath and wondered if she could face another disappointment. The past few weeks had been utterly awful. Since her arrest, the stigma had followed her everywhere like a bad smell. It didn’t seem to matter that she had been proven completely innocent. The fact that half the town had seen her being marched along the street between two burly policemen was all it took to label her as ‘unemployable’.

  ‘There’s no smoke without fire,’ people whispered behind her back.

  She’d become so desperate, she’d even asked her father if she could come back to the emporium.

  ‘It didn’t work before,’ he’d said bluntly. ‘You need to bring in some cash. I can’t afford to pay you.’

  Izzie had been for interview after interview but as soon as she said her name the job vacancy she’d seen advertised had either been filled or they would ‘let her know’, which of course they never did. She couldn’t go back to Mr Pierson’s tobacconist shop either. He had been ‘taken bad’ the day she’d been removed from the shop and was still in hospital. The shop was permanently closed and rumour had it that if Mr Pierson died, it would be sold, the first to be bought under a compulsory purchase order from the council who were keen to redevelop the area around Teville Gate.

  If Izzie had expected a little sympathy from her family, she was sadly mistaken. Nothing was said about her arrest but every day her father demanded to know if she’d got another job. He didn’t say anything when she told him no but she knew what he was thinking. She was useless and a liability. Linda behaved as if nothing had happened. On top of that, having no spare money meant that Izzie couldn’t go over to Brighton to see her mother. She wrote a letter to explain and her mother had kindly sent her a couple of pounds in the post to tide her over.

  To keep herself busy, Izzie began to decorate the house. Her father gave her wallpaper and paint, mostly from house clearances he’d done, and Izzie made a good job of it even if some of the rooms were papered with two different designs. She was slowly transforming the house from dowdy to bright.

  The only other support Izzie had came from Esther and Patsy. She wrote long letters to Esther and she’d met Patsy to go to the pictures just after she’d got back home from her night in the cells. Patsy was very supportive but she had a new boyfriend, Dick, and it seemed things were getting serious. Patsy was all apologies but she explained that she and Dick were talking about getting engaged. She wouldn’t have much time for girlie nights out she said, and they hadn’t met since.

  Esther wrote back immediately. She stated her belief in her friend and went on to tell her in a chatty and fun way about her training. She was coming home on leave for a weekend in May and she promised that they would meet and catch up. Izzie was looking forward to seeing her but at the moment her meagre savings were so sadly depleted and if she didn’t get a job soon, she wouldn’t even be able to afford a cup of tea with Esther.

  The Café Bellissimo, as Mabel’s was now called, was Izzie’s last chance to find a place of work in Worthing. She would have preferred something more challenging but since her very public arrest, she had little choice. The café would be busy in the summer months although she wasn’t sure if it would have the same number of customers in the winter. There was every possibility that this could end up as a seasonal job, which was a bit disconcerting because she would then have to face another round of job hunting as soon as the summer season ended. Added to that, there was plenty of competition with Lyons tea rooms near the Old Town Hall and the two other cafés within shouting distance in South Street. Still, so long as the owner paid her wages every week, Izzie decided it didn’t matter. A job was a job and having been out of work for so long, she needed this one desperately.

  The tea room was crowded. The notice on the window said ‘Waitress wanted. Apply within,’ but Izzie was reluctant to go into the shop by the front door and run the risk of a public humiliation. She decided to go in the back of the shop and went in search of the tradesman’s entrance.

  The alleyway behind the shops was crowded with doorways but it was easy enough to find the one belonging to the Café Bellissimo. Several cats hovering around the dustbins fled as she approached. Izzie walked to the kitchen door and knocked. Immediately, the door burst open, making her jump, and a large man, aged about forty or forty-five, stood in front of her. She noticed his hair first. It framed his face like a million charcoal grey and black bubbles. His eyes, dark as oak, sparkled with mischief and he sported a small old-fashioned waxed moustache over his generous lips.

  ‘Look atta this!’ he exclaimed loudly as he threw his hands in the air and showered her with flour. ‘The Blessed Virgin has sent us an angel from Heaven.’ Then he threw the door wide open so that those inside could see her.

  Izzie blushed with embarrassment as he roared with laughter, his dark eyes twinkling and his giant belly wobbling under a big white apron smeared with pastry finger marks. Someone else appeared at his shoulder. He was a much younger and slimmer man but the similarity between the two was apparent. Izzie felt sure the two men must be related. Gently pushing the older man aside, he said with a smile and in a much less pronounced accent, ‘Have you come about
the vacancy?’

  Izzie nodded.

  ‘Please come in,’ said the younger man, stepping back. He was holding an icing syringe. ‘We already have two other ladies waiting.’

  The heat in the kitchen hit her like a wall. Izzie looked around. Sparkling pots and pans of every size and shape hung from hooks on the walls. On the kitchen table, a large chocolate sponge and a great many delectable pastries stood in rows and on wire cake racks. The younger man had been decorating a large cake covered with Royal icing. Tiny, perfectly formed pink roses waited for their place on the top of the cake. He threw the syringe down beside it as the big man who had opened the door went back to kneading a piece of dough on the huge table in the middle of the room. As she walked past him, Izzie caught a glimpse of someone else in the scullery doing the washing up. For someone who had grown up with the privations of war and now peacetime rationing, the whole kitchen seemed like Pharaoh’s store house.

  The younger man didn’t speak as he led her through the kitchen into a dark passage between the kitchen and the shop but a white aproned waitress carrying a tray of tea who bustled past them smiled. The man motioned for Izzie to sit down next to two other women who sat on wooden chairs outside a door marked ‘office’. One, a blonde girl, heavily made up, was very fashionably dressed. Her pointed bra divided her breasts in a seductive way under a tight white sweater and she wore a brown pencil skirt. She didn’t wear stockings but she had a pair of bobby socks and her flat lace-up shoes had a brown flash down the sides. The other woman was a lot older and a complete contrast. Her grey coat was shabby and her shoes down at heel. She sat bolt upright clutching her handbag, which she fingered nervously. Izzie couldn’t help noticing that her fingernails were bitten down to the quick and that she exuded a slightly unwashed aroma. Izzie sat on the chair in between them and waited.

  Izzie was the last to be called. When the other two came out of the office, they gave no indication as to how their interviews had gone, just made their way into the restaurant and sat at one of the tables where they were offered a free cup of tea.

  ‘Miss Baxter.’

  Izzie stood up nervously.

  The office itself was spacious. There was a desk with two chairs either side of it, a filing cabinet, a fairly solid looking wall safe and a small leather sofa. Izzie gaped in surprise when she saw the man who was about to interview her. It was none other than Mr Semadini, the owner of the café in Brighton where she and her mother had first met.

  He sat on one side of the desk with his head down, studying Izzie’s references. He was much as she’d remembered. She stared at the top of his dark hair, waiting for him to look up. He wore a smart suit with a colourful waistcoat. As he looked up he blinked in surprise. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said as he handed her references back.

  Izzie’s heart sank. Oh no, not again. It seemed as if her reputation had been sullied around here for ever.

  ‘Well, Miss Baxter,’ he went on in flawless English, ‘there is no contest. I have no hesitation in offering you the job. Your references are exemplary and because you had no hesitation in handing me back my wallet when I dropped it on the station in Brighton that time, I already know how honest you are.’ He rose to his feet and extended his hand for her to shake. ‘If you would like to come and work in the Café Bellissimo, we should be very pleased to have you on board.’

  Izzie beamed as they shook hands and they agreed that she should start work on Monday.

  Nineteen

  The rules in the Café Bellissimo were strict and the customer always came first. All waitresses were expected to be well turned out; their pink gingham dresses neatly ironed and the detachable Peter Pan collar absolutely spotless. They had a cherry coloured bow at the throat and their small white aprons were slightly starched. As soon as she got the job, Izzie was relieved to discover that Mr Semadini used a reliable laundry service so she wasn’t expected to wash her own uniform herself.

  There were even rules about their hair. Izzie’s was short (as soon as she knew she’d got the job, she’d treated herself to a Bob) so she was all right but the other girls had to have their hair in a neat roll at the nape of the neck or swept up at the sides with combs. The shop opened at nine but everybody had to be at work by eight-thirty for inspection. Mr Semadini lined them up before looking at their hands and finger nails. As soon as he deemed them fit, the menus were placed on the tables.

  He had modelled the Café Bellissimo on Lyons Tea Rooms with its famous Nippies, but the menu wasn’t nearly as comprehensive. As well as wonderful cakes and pastries, they offered simple affordable fare which would appeal to the locals as well as the day tripper. Crumpets, currant buns and fairy cakes stood alongside crab salad, egg sandwiches, bacon and onion pudding and locally caught fish with chips. For dessert, Café Bellissimo offered something completely unique in Worthing: freshly made Italian ice cream.

  It didn’t take long to work out that certain customers liked to sit in the same seat. Mr Pressley from the family jeweller’s sat near the back of the restaurant, he wanted privacy to look at some paperwork, whereas Mrs Templeton made sure of a table in the middle of the restaurant so that she could enjoy eavesdropping on other people’s conversations. Miss Cheeseman, head of ladies fashion in Bentall’s department store, preferred the window seat.

  There were several occasions when Izzie noticed Mr Semadini watching her. At first it unnerved her. She worried that she had done something wrong. Had she forgotten something? He never reprimanded her or questioned what she was doing but if she looked up and caught his eye, he would smile pleasantly and move on. In the end, she decided that it didn’t mean anything. It was just his way.

  When it came to his customers, Mr Semadini had a wonderful gift of knowing exactly what to say. With some he was almost familiar. ‘How are we today, my darling?’ he would ask some elderly woman as he kissed both of her wrinkly cheeks. With others he was more formal. Holding out his hand to shake, he would say in his reappearing Italian accent, ‘I’m delighted to see you again. We have missed you. I hope you have been keeping well?’ He’d have just the right sort of banter for the men as well. ‘Looks like the perfect weather for a bit of sea angling, George. Are you going to join the boys on the pier?’ Or if he saw someone struggling with the sleeve of his coat he’d say, ‘Here, let me help you with that, Sir.’ And when he found out that one old lady had a sick grandson in Worthing Hospital, he put an empty sweet jar next to his lucky mascot by the till and told his customers he was saving odd change for the children’s ward. It wasn’t long before the coins in the jar began to creep up the sides. Kind gestures like that meant Izzie was thinking about him all the time. At home, she wrote letters to her mother and Esther telling them all about it.

  *

  When Christmas came around, Izzie and her fellow waitresses were pleasantly surprised to receive several gifts from customers and Mr Semadini gave everyone an extra two pounds in their wage packet. Between them, the girls exchanged Secret Santa presents. Izzie’s gift was a lovely woollen scarf guaranteed to keep out even an arctic winter.

  At home, she wrapped presents for her father and Linda and prepared a Christmas meal. This year, she was determined that they celebrate with roast chicken, carrots and Brussels sprouts, and roast potato, followed by tinned peaches and custard. There had been no time to make a Christmas pudding but she had managed to win a small Christmas cake in a raffle. The meal was a success and the three of them got on quite well. Her father had already told them he would be out in the evening so Linda had invited John to the house. He, Linda and Izzie played Monopoly until it was time for him to go. Climbing wearily into bed, Izzie wished every day could be as happy as this one had been.

  *

  On New Year’s Eve, a large car drew up outside in the street and young Mrs Shilling came into Café Bellissimo with a couple of friends.

  ‘Good heavens, Izzie!’ she cried as she was handed the menu. ‘Well, I never expected to see you here.’ There was a condescendi
ng sneer in her voice.

  I bet you didn’t, Izzie thought to herself as she smiled sweetly.

  Her old employer was looking every inch the lady in a very expensive day dress and a matching jacket. Obviously Muriel had come into quite a bit of money when the old lady died.

  As Izzie had expected, Mrs Shilling was an awkward customer who demanded instant service even though she could see that Izzie and the other girls were rushed off their feet. She fingered a cake, then said she didn’t like it, telling Izzie to, ‘take it away, girl,’ in ringing tones. After that, she complained that the tea was cold. Izzie was tempted to tip the tea pot over her head but she had a shrewd idea that to arouse her temper was exactly what Mrs Shilling wanted. Izzie smiled and apologised in a professional way. Mrs Shilling left the café announcing in a loud voice that she wouldn’t be returning and that she much preferred the tea room in Hubbard’s department store. She left no tip.

  ‘Do you know that lady?’ Mr Semadini asked as he helped her prepare the table for the next customer.

  ‘She was the mother-in-law of my old employer,’ said Izzie.

  Mr Semadini shook his head. ‘You must be a saint to put up with the likes of her.’

  Their eyes met and Izzie grinned.

  Izzie loved her work and the people she worked with were a happy-go-lucky bunch. Mr Umberto, the large man in the kitchen, was always jolly and the younger man, Mr Benito, was serious minded but very kind. She discovered that they were all cousins and lived in the flat above the shop although it was rumoured that they were all looking for houses in town. It was also a source of gossip that Mr Semadini had a habit of starting a business and then leaving it in the capable hands of a relative before he moved on to the next project. His first restaurant in Hastings was run by two of his brothers and the one in Brighton had been left in the capable hands of his uncle and another cousin. He clearly had a flair for business planning but Izzie hoped he didn’t move on to pastures new just yet.