by June Tate
He looked bemused. ‘How marvellous! Oh, I’ve been to too many funerals that were dire and full of gloom. Where are you holding his?’
‘In our local pub, of course! Where else? Where everybody knew Conor, where we used to go for a drink and a game of darts. It’s been our local ever since we married.’
‘How many are you expecting to attend?’
‘I’ve no idea, but there will be plenty of food. All the wives contribute.’
‘But you won’t have the time to do that, Jessie. Get the chef to make whatever is your share – and a little extra with my compliments.’
She was completely taken aback by the generous offer. ‘Well, thank you, Mr Forbes, I appreciate that.’
‘Get one of the kitchen staff to deliver it to the pub. You’ll have your hands too full to be concerned about it.’ Before she could thank him, he walked to the door of her office.
‘I hope it all goes well, Jessie.’ Turning on his heel, he left.
It was a crisp, cold January day when Conor McGonigall was laid to rest. His coffin, carried in a horse-drawn hearse, stood outside his house in Union Street. Jessie had slept there the previous night, and had eaten with Daisy and Bill after she’d checked that all was fine at the pub for the following day. Now it was time.
Dressed in black and widow’s weeds, Jessie stepped out of her house. She walked behind the hearse and stood there, pulling up her fur collar against the cold. She was joined by Daisy and Bill, then Maisie and Percy Williams came out of their house, joined by two solemn-looking boys. Behind them a few of the locals took their place. The procession started. At every turn it was joined by others. Dockers who’d worked with Conor. Four docks police in full uniform joined in. As it continued there were customers from the cafe. Nancy had closed for the day and she too was there. The numbers grew.
Daisy took hold of Jessie’s hand and quietly said, ‘Look behind you, you won’t believe your eyes.’
Jessie looked over her shoulder and all she could see was a mass of people following the hearse. She couldn’t see where it ended. She stared at her friend in disbelief.
Daisy squeezed her hand. ‘It’s for Conor, love.’
The church was full, with people standing at the back. Jessie sat in the family pew, and asked Daisy and Bill to sit with her. The vicar had said one or two people had asked to speak during the service and she’d agreed. The first hymn began.
Jessie went through the service in a haze, really. She followed the service subliminally; spoke the twenty-third psalm automatically. The vicar took his place in the pulpit.
‘We are gathered here today to pay our respects to Conor McGonigall. I didn’t know the man, but I’ve read about him from the notes his wife, Jessie, gave to me. From this I learnt that he was a good man, a loving husband and a friend to those he liked. But I’ve only to look around at this crowded congregation to see that he was a man to be admired, too. It takes a special person to earn this much respect from his peers. But I’ll let those who knew him speak for him.’
To Jessie’s surprise, John Irving, Conor’s old boss, walked to the lectern to speak and Jessie wondered what he was going to say.
‘Conor McGonigall was a fine man. He had worked in the docks for many years working his way up to stevedore. He was good at his job, strict but fair and, above all, he was reliable. His men knew that, with him, they were safe working in the hold of these ships, that Conor was a perfectionist and never ever took chances with the lives of his men. Apart from which, he was full of Irish charm. He was liked and admired by his peers. I am proud to say he was one of my men. He was a real man and he will be missed!’
Jessie felt the tears fill her eyes. This indeed was a compliment to her late husband.
Then Bill stood up and walked past her and Daisy to take his place. He was not as assured as his employer, but it was obvious to all he wanted to say a few words.
‘Conor was my neighbour and my mate,’ he began. ‘Times were hard when I first came to Southampton from the north. I joined the queue in the dreaded call-on every morning, trying to be chosen, and we all know how difficult that is. But eventually I was chosen to belong to a gang and had a permanent job as long as there was work. I only discovered some time after that this was through Conor. He never mentioned it so neither did I, knowing he wouldn’t be pleased that I knew. But that was the manner of the man. I feel privileged to have been called his friend.’ He stepped down, wiping his eyes, overcome by his speech.
The final hymn was sung and the service brought to the end. The vicar told the congregation that, after the burial, they would be welcome at the Builders Arms. Jessie left the pew and stood by the door to speak to the mourners as they left the church. It took a while as there were so many. Then they made their way to the cemetery.
‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,’ intoned the vicar. Daisy and Bill stood either side of Jessie, holding her by the arm until she stepped forward and picked up a handful of soil and dropped it on the coffin. Silent tears ran down her cheeks and she felt rooted to the spot until Daisy joined her, threw her soil on the coffin and led Jessie firmly away.
As she left with Daisy and Bill, the vicar told her there was a car to take her and her friends to the pub, compliments of Mr Forbes. They all climbed inside, as well as the Williams family, to be driven to Union Street in style.
When they arrived, they were surprised to see trestle tables laid outside and the landlord waiting to greet her. She climbed out of the car and looked around.
Charlie Watson, the landlord, said, ‘Mr Forbes attended the funeral, but when he saw how big the congregation was he realised that we wouldn’t be able to accommodate everyone inside,’ he explained. ‘So he left and sent over some tables, more food and a couple of waiters! The food is laid out; ready to bring out when they arrive.’
At that moment the waiters were bringing plates of sandwiches, pork pies and sausage rolls, with plates and paper napkins. Shortly after, as people started to arrive, Jessie saw the wisdom of his idea.
The beer flowed, the pianist played, songs were sung and Conor was remembered long into the night. There were a few tears, but it was a joyous occasion. A real Irish wake.
When eventually the mourners had gone home, many of them somewhat unsteadily, Bill, Daisy and the Williams family congregated at the Browns’ house and drank a welcome cup of tea. The two boys came over to Jessie.
‘We are so sorry about Uncle Conor dying, Auntie Jessie,’ young Jack said. ‘We remember how he rescued us when we went to the pier on our own and nearly drowned.’
‘And how he taught us to swim in the summer,’ added Tommy.
She smiled at the recollection. ‘He didn’t want you to be scared of the water and wanted you to be able to swim so you’d be safe in the future.’
‘We loved him, Auntie Jessie, and we love you too.’ Both the boys hugged her. ‘We’ll look after you,’ they said as they clung to her.
It was all she could do to stop crying, but she managed to stammer her thanks. Their mother came over and rescued her, then took the boys off home to bed.
Daisy and Bill, kicked off their shoes and drank some of Jessie’s whisky with their tea. As Bill sipped his drink he turned to Jessie.
‘Conor will be bloody furious that he missed such a good party,’ he said.
She chuckled. ‘So he would. I’m amazed that so many people came. It was incredible.’
‘You didn’t notice, of course, but they seemed to come out of every corner and didn’t stop. I’ve never seen the like,’ said Daisy. ‘But now he’s at rest and you have to take a deep breath and get on with your life. That’s what he would expect of you, love.’ She held Jessie’s hand. ‘You can’t let him down, you know that.’
Jessie nodded. ‘I know.’
She eventually took her leave and let herself into the house. She picked up the photo of Conor from the mantelpiece and kissed it. ‘That was a hell of a party, darlin’. There’ll be a few thick heads tomorrow, I c
an tell you.’ She sat down in a chair, still looking at the picture.
‘Oh, Conor! I still expect you to come walking through the door, even now.’ Shaking her head, she had to accept that this would never happen. She had good memories of their life together; however, she never could linger on the way that he died. That was far too painful. She shut that away in a box at the back of her mind until the day she could cope with it. But not right now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Three months later
It was now April and Jessie had been working long hours in the hotel. It was her way of coping with her grief. At night she was so tired, she’d crawl into her bed after soaking in a bath and fall asleep through sheer exhaustion.
Larry Forbes watched her closely, aware that this was her way, but concerned that she would go too far. Early one evening he walked into her office with a pot of coffee and sat down. He poured two cups and handed one to her.
‘You are finished for the night!’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘I have—’
He didn’t let her finish. ‘Jessie, it’s time to slow down or you will make yourself ill and be no use to anyone. I need you to be on top of your form. Enough is enough!’ He sipped his coffee. ‘I realise this is your way of shutting out the loss of your husband and we all handle grief in our own way, but you need to slow down, work reasonable hours. When was the last time you left the hotel?’
Jessie just shrugged.
‘Right, go and get your coat, we’re going for a walk. It’s a reasonable night so let’s get some fresh air. I’ll wait in the foyer!’
From his tone she knew that argument would be useless, so she finished her coffee, rose from her chair and left the office. As the lift took her up to her rooms, she had to agree that her boss was right. She hadn’t been out for over a week, and she had the sense to know she was driving herself too far. She just didn’t seem able to stop. No, that wasn’t it at all. She was too frightened to stop, because then she’d have to face the fact that Conor was dead. She let out a deep sigh. It was time to come out of hiding.
Larry Forbes offered her his arm and they walked along the road towards the high street. People were milling around, looking at the shops, enjoying the early spring weather after the cold winter. Daffodils were blooming in the parks. Trees were beginning to bud. Nature was renewing itself and, as Jessie walked, she realised that was what she needed to do. She had never been a person to run away from a problem or trouble, quite the opposite. For the first time in her life, though, she’d done just that. Conor wasn’t a problem, her facing being without him was. What had Daisy said that day? ‘You can’t let him down.’ She straightened her back as she walked, took a deep breath and made a promise to herself. Conor will be proud of me.
Her companion had been silent during their walk, sensing that she needed time to unwind, but as they approached Scullards restaurant he turned to her.
‘Have you eaten today?’
‘I sent for a sandwich at lunchtime.’
He shook his head and propelled her through the door and into the dining room.
The head waiter hurried over. ‘Mr Forbes, how nice to see you. Good evening, madam. A table for two, is it?’
The waiter took their coats and left them with a menu.
Jessie felt herself relax for the first time in an age. Looking around the room, she said, ‘This is nice, could do with a few changes in the decor.’
Larry started to laugh. ‘Will you stop. Just sit back and enjoy the food. The chef is good, I promise you.’
‘Better than ours?’ she asked, trying to hide a smile.
He looked at her and said, ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile for a long time. Let me order some wine and we can celebrate the fact.’
‘Oh dear, has it been that bad?’
He nodded. ‘You’ve smiled at the clients, of course, but that’s being professional. I would expect no less from you.’
The waiter came with the wine list and returned with a bottle of champagne.
When Jessie saw this, she looked at her boss with raised eyebrows.
‘It’s the best pick-me-up I know, so drink up. Doctor’s orders!’
The change of scenery and the champagne did indeed lift Jessie’s spirits as did the excellent food, and she once again began to feel like a human being. She looked across the table and, picking up her glass, held it up.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘For the champagne?’
‘No, for dragging me out of the deep pit I was in.’
‘You’d have made it on your own eventually, Jessie. I just couldn’t wait, that’s all.’
They talked about many things. Her homeland, her parents. Conor and his life. The business, but on a light level – and of the news. The threat of war. Churchill as Lord of the Admiralty, causing mayhem in the House of Commons.
‘Do you think there’s any truth behind it?’ Jessie asked.
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘What would happen to the hotel if there was a war? Would we still be in business?’
‘I would hope so – we are a port, after all – but let’s hope it doesn’t come to anything.’
At the end of the meal, they walked slowly back to the hotel. Forbes stopped at the entrance where he turned and stared at her.
‘Right. Tomorrow I want to see the old Jessie McGonigall on duty. I don’t want to have the trouble of finding her replacement!’
Seeing the steely look in his eye and the timbre of his voice, she knew this was no idle threat. She smiled to herself. That ruthless streak was still there, then. It was somehow comforting, in a strange way.
‘I wouldn’t dream of putting you to so much trouble. In any case, I didn’t put in all this hard work for some bloody stranger to walk in and take over!’
He started laughing. ‘Now that sounds like the stroppy manageress I hired. I’m happy to know that you’re back on board. Goodnight, Jessie.’
She watched him strut away; knowing he’d made his point. Shaking her head, she thought, He really hasn’t changed. She walked into the hotel, checked with the receptionist that all was well and went to her rooms.
Once there, she took off her coat and put it away, kicked off her shoes and sat down. Going over the conversation she’d had with Larry Forbes she was disturbed about the uncertainty of a war. Should such a thing happen, would the hotel still be in business? She still had her interest in the cafe. Workers and dockers would always need feeding, so she would have some income. But it was a worry. It would be a pity, as the hotel was thriving, but Forbes’s hopes of opening another wouldn’t be viable, that was for sure. She undressed and climbed into bed without having any solution. Time alone would tell.
It didn’t take long before Jessie’s concerns began to take shape. Two months later, on 28th June, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife were shot in Sarajevo and the country was in uproar. Both Jessie and Larry Forbes were fearful as to how this would affect their business.
‘So far we’re fine,’ he said. ‘The bookings are still healthy, but there is no way of knowing how this will affect the country – and then us.’
July was busy and the August Bank Holiday, but on 4th August, Britain declared war on Germany and the atmosphere changed. Lord Kitchener’s posters were all around the town, calling for volunteers. ‘Your Country Needs You’, it proclaimed.
It wasn’t long before the troops came to Southampton, marching to the docks and the waiting ships, taking them across the Channel to face the enemy. Some of their staff volunteered; carried away with the thought that it would all be over by Christmas and things would get back to normal if they did their bit.
Trade dropped off. Business luncheons were cancelled. Clients were afraid to spend too much company money, uncertain of how the war would affect them. There were still those who were able to continue with their lives. The men with private money, who were not affected financially, but the business was suffering and takings were f
alling rapidly.
Troops had started marching through the town making for the docks. There was no doubt, watching them, that the war had truly started.
A month later, Larry Forbes came to the hotel for a meeting with Jessie. He looked strained and she wondered what news he had to impart.
He sat opposite her and without preamble he told her.
‘I’ve sold the building,’ he said.
‘You what?’ Jessie was so shocked, she thought she’d misheard him.
‘I’ve sold up. As you know, I invested a great deal of money in this venture and if I don’t want to lose most of it, I have to sell the property. I’m sorry, Jessie. You of all people don’t deserve this, but I have no choice.’
‘Is it still being run as a hotel?’ she asked hopefully.
‘No, not exactly. The Admiralty want to buy it and use it as offices and a place to house some of their staff. They are prepared to pay a good price and I can’t afford to turn it down. I will give you a good severance pay. It’s the least I can do.’
She was stunned. ‘How long have we got until they take over?’
‘One month. They’ve bought it lock, stock and barrel. They didn’t want to have the trouble of furnishing it.’
‘What will you do once it’s gone?’
With a grimace he said, ‘I have other business interests. I never believed in putting all my eggs in one basket, and soon, not having to concern myself with the financial running of the hotel at a loss, I will be able to sleep at night.’
‘What about the staff we have left? What about them? They will have lost their living.’
‘I know, and I feel badly about that, but had we continued, they would eventually have been unemployed anyway. I’ll give them some extra in their pay packet to tide them over. I’m not a monster. I do understand their predicament, but I’m a businessman, Jessie. You know that!’
