Coffee, Tea, The Gypsy & Me...

by Caroline James

  “I love shoulder pads.” She brightened up as she thought about the outfit. “They give such a good shape.”

  “I wear them with everything, even me vest.” Hattie said. “Slims you down a treat.”

  Vicky bought out a succession of daytime dresses by Betty Barclay and Joseph Ribkoff in lovely colours and sexy stretchy fabrics, that hung beautifully and flattered Jo’s figure. For evening, Dorothy chose Dusk by Frank Usher. Jo initially rejected them, insisting that the dresses and black suit would be enough.

  “Do you want to look like your restaurant staff?” Hattie was annoyed. “Stand out Jo, you’re the boss! Tell her Dorothy.”

  “Mrs Edmonds will be more comfortable when she’s tried one on.”

  Dorothy helped Jo into a black and white jersey dress. A slim strap, tied with a soft draping bow, left one shoulder bare. Jo twirled in front of the mirror. Between them, Mrs Sherwin and Dorothy Osbourne had cleverly chosen garments that knocked two sizes off her size and transformed her figure. Jo was thrilled!

  “Well you open on Saturday and God willing the guests won’t confuse you with the staff now.” Hattie turned the car onto the hotel drive.

  “Is the world ready for me Hattie?”

  “Are you ready for the world Jo?”

  They collected the carrier bags and began to giggle.

  “There’s only one way to find out!” They cried in unison and ran into the hotel.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next morning Jo set off again. She had appointments all day at The House of Beauty in Marland and despite her protests, Jean and Hattie had persuaded her that the hotel would still be standing when she returned.

  Everyone was working hard in preparation for the trial run of the restaurant the next day. They officially opened the day after, but Jo wanted to give Sandra an opportunity to test her menu. The staff, their partners and family were to be guinea pigs and so far there were twenty four covers.

  Jo made plans as she drove.

  They hadn’t done any advertising yet and Jo hoped they wouldn’t have to, but the charts and diary were empty. Jo was nervous. Surely bookings would come once the doors were open?

  Jean was interviewing a nanny on Friday. The nursery in Marland recommended a girl from Stainton, who’d recently gained qualifications. The thought of leaving Thomas with a stranger added to Jo’s worries.

  Jo parked her car behind the church. She paid for a ticket from the machine and walked along the cobbled lanes to find The House of Beauty. The morning was clear and fine and the sun warm on her face. The wind however, was brisk. It whipped hair into her eyes and as Jo tucked it behind her ears, she wondered what style she’d have in a few hours time - maybe just a trim so she could tie it back?

  The cherry trees in the Vicar’s garden had blossomed late this year. Their fluffy pink blooms swirled in the breeze, reminding Jo of soft pink confetti as it fell to the ground around the church. There was a market today in the covered walkway and Jo could smell fresh fish. She looked over to the corner of the building where a large marble counter lay beneath a green and white striped canopy. Fish of all varieties were displayed on the slab.

  “Delivering to you tomorrow Mrs Edmonds.” Dougie Cannon called out.

  The son in D. J. Cannon & Son – Fresh Fish Daily, Dougie was an ex-trawler man, as knarled and wizened as the elements he’d faced, he knew the provenance of all his fish from coast to counter.

  “Thanks Dougie. We’re officially open on Saturday.”

  “Aye, the Missus is booking a table.” Dougie leaned over and straightened lines of plastic grass that separated rows of mackerel and salmon. “Our Annie doesn’t get out much. She’s faddy about her food.”

  “We’ll be happy to see you Dougie. Give my best wishes to Annie.”

  “Aye I will, I’ll have your order there first thing.”

  Jo continued her walk past the Westmarland Trust bank and turned into an alley running parallel to the town. Marland was full of tall buildings and narrow passages that went on forever, behind the façade of the town. Jo wondered if they were to deceive invading Scots in days gone by. She studied the numbers. Hattie had given her precise instructions to look for a brass plaque, by a dark blue front door. Jo found the plaque halfway down the alley, engraved with the words The House of Beauty. She crossed her fingers and climbed the steps then raised the heavy brass knocker and tapped once. A moment later, the door opened and a young girl wearing a clinical white tunic ushered Jo in.

  “Have a seat.” The girl motioned to a chair. She glanced at a leather bound appointment book, that lay on a Regency desk, then traced Jo’s appointment with a polished nail and ticked it off.

  Jo studied her surroundings, where many doors led off a circular reception area. She gripped her bag. The hair salon was on a raised gallery and Jo looked up at the large gilt mirrors and ornate coving that surrounded swivel chairs and counters.

  “Would you like a drink?” The girl stood next to her.

  “I’d love a black coffee please.”

  For the next three hours Jo tried hard to enjoy her experience in the salon. Naked, but for disposable paper pants, she lay face down on a table while Peruvian pan pipes played softly in the background. The haunting whine annoyed her. Lily, a tiny oriental lady, introduced herself and proceeded to pummel and push Jo’s pressure points as she massaged her back. Her tiny probing fingers irritated Jo and she longed for the treatment to end. Worse was to come. She was plucked and waxed in places she didn’t realise hair grew and silently cursed Hattie, as she endured the pain and embarrassment. At long last, wrapped in a fluffy white towelling robe and slippers, she was led up the stairs to the gallery, where she was seated in a comfortable cream leather chair. Jo glared into the mirror, her blotchy face stared back and as she slumped miserably, she yearned for something stronger than coffee.

  A flurry of activity made her sit up. A tall thin man glanced over the gallery rail and clapped his hands.

  “Ellen get off your arse!” He shouted to the receptionist. “Get some champagne up here pronto.” He spun Jo’s chair round. “This lady’s gasping after all she’s been through.”

  Jo recoiled. Male piercings were a rare sight in Marland and the stylist had a large diamond stud in his left lobe with a tiny silver bar through his eyebrow. They matched the huge diamond in his signet ring.

  He stroked Jo’s hair.

  “Mrs Edmonds.” He smiled. “Are you ready for me?”

  He wore a colourful Versace shirt and drainpipe jeans, tucked into cowboy boots. A heavy chain bounced off his waxed and tanned chest. The receptionist appeared with a laden tray and placed champagne and two glasses beside Jo.

  “Call me Paulie.” He popped the cork with finesse and poured. “Here’s to success in your new venture.”

  Paulie knocked back the drink and topped his glass up. He ran long fingers through his closely cropped hair and glanced in the mirror to tweak a blonde streak on his forehead.

  “We’ve heard all about you and Robbie and I can’t wait – at last, somewhere decent to dine!”

  He spun Jo round to face the mirror and plucked a comb from his pocket. “Now what are going to do with this lot?”

  Paulie lifted strands of Jo’s hair and pulled a face. The hair fell limply to her shoulders.

  “Are we going to be brave today and let your Uncle Paulie transform you?”

  The champagne had mellowed Jo and she could feel her aching muscles relax as she stretched her legs, wriggled her toes and held her glass out for a top up.

  “I’m in your hands Paulie, make me beautiful.”

  Paulie beamed and swung into action. A glossy magazine appeared as a manicurist slid into place and dunked Jo’s fingers into bowls of warm fragrant water. Paulie reached over to a hi-fi system and flicked a switch. The salon reverberated to Annie Lennox and Aretha Franklin as they belted out Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves!

  Paulie spun round and punched the air as he joined them in the chor
us.

  “I just love this song!” He exclaimed, then separated Jo’s hair with large clips and began to cut.

  For the next forty minutes Jo buried herself in the magazine. She feigned an interest in Caroline of Monaco’s latest escapade and Princess Diana’s fabulous outfit at the Cannes Film Festival. She was terrified of looking up, as Paulie’s scissors whirled round her head and chunks of long hair began to pile up on the floor. Jo was wheeled around the gallery from backwash to blow dryer and the final stop was by a counter of makeup.

  “Nearly there.” Paulie stroked her arm encouragingly.

  Fifteen minutes later he whisked her gown away.

  “Close your eyes.” Paulie whispered. “Eh Voila!” He spun her round to face the mirror.

  The face that stared back at Jo was unrecognisable.

  * * *

  The wind blew robustly as Jo stepped onto the cobbles in the alleyway. She patted her hair and hoped that Paulie had used plenty of spray to keep it in place.

  The change was dramatic.

  Jo felt like an overexcited child and wanted to run and jump through the alley, such was her joy in her new look! Instead, she braced herself against the wind and hurried along, but stopped as she caught her reflection in the market hall windows.

  A striking image stared back.

  Cropped hair framed her face and emphasised the high cheekbones, subtle copper shades warmed her skin and she glowed from all the treatments. Her makeup was perfect and shades of green and brown shadow matched her eyes and made them look huge. She wore a long-line coat suit that Dorothy had recommended for the day. It had three quarter sleeves and two gold buttons.

  Jo was mesmerised.

  “Beautiful!” A voice called out and Jo spun round.

  Pete Parks leaned casually against the wall of the Westmarland Trust Bank and grinned. He had one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket and the other held a battered briefcase.

  “Suits you.” He said.

  Jo blushed. She was tongue tied and couldn’t think of a thing to say. She gripped her bag, gave him a wave and ran back to her car.

  “Be seeing you Saturday.” Pete flicked the heavy black fringe off his forehead and admired her retreating bottom, in the tight fitting skirt. “Make sure you’ve got steak on!”

  As Jo drove home she glanced at her reflection in the rear view mirror. This new image was going to take some getting used!

  She skidded her car onto the driveway and parked under the trees, then ran across the gravel to the side door. Hattie and Judy were in reception, deep in conversation.

  “Bleedin’ Hell.” Hattie looked up.

  “Mrs E you look amazing!” Judy clapped her hands together.

  “Well, that gentle soul certainly knows how to cut hair, I’ll hand it to him. You look great.” Hattie poked at Jo’s short crop. “Just lose a stone and I think we’re in business.”

  “You could have warned me about Paulie.”

  Jo darted away from Hattie’s probing fingers and thrust her bag on the desk.

  “Anyone who can make you look like that in a couple of hours can be as camp as Christmas in my book. He deserves a medal.” Hattie said.

  “He knows what he’s doing,” Jo agreed. “But this cut will be high maintenance.” She postured in front of the mirror. “I’ll have to go back every month.” She pouted her glossy lips and turned her head from side to side. “I do like it though.”

  “Well you better come down off planet pose pretty sharp. The phone’s never stopped ringing.” Hattie flicked her pencil. “Restaurant’s full on Saturday and I’ve had to turn bookings away in case the bedrooms fill up.”

  “Crikey Hattie, are you sure?”

  Jo gasped as she read the diary. A long list of names and telephone numbers filled the page. A birthday cake was ordered too.

  “Wow, we really are in business. Girls you’re brilliant!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Friday morning and Jo woke early. It was rehearsal day today - tomorrow they’d be open to the public.

  She took a quick shower and rubbed her hair with a towel. Very gently, she blow-dried the style and watched with pleasure as it fell into place. Determined to recreate her new look, she carefully applied make-up then wriggled into Mrs Sherwin’s firm foundation wear and added silky hold-up stockings, a red lace camisole, the black suit and court shoes.

  Jo stood in front of the mirror and sucked her tummy in as she posed. The suit fitted snugly over her hips and the jacket accentuated her shape.

  She was ready.

  She tucked a lipstick into her bra and ran up the stairs to the playroom. Jean sat on the floor with Thomas on her lap; they studied a book of nursery rhymes.

  “Look at Mummy Thomas, doesn’t she look smart.” Jean smiled as Jo leaned down and scooped Thomas into her arms.

  “Wish me luck Mum and you too young man.” She kissed Thomas.

  “You look like a different girl.” Jean nodded approval. “Don’t forget to show your Father.”

  “Thanks Mum, I will. See you later.” She tousled Thomas’ hair then left them to their rhymes and skipped down the stairs. She stopped at the guest bedroom and knocked gently.

  “Dad?”

  Jo opened the door. The room was quiet and dark. She crept across to part the curtains and a beam of sunlight lit the room. George was asleep. A lump under the covers bobbed up the bed. Nipper appeared on the pillow, her eyes bright.

  “Morning Kiddo.” George yawned and turned over. He opened his eyes. “My, don’t you look grand.” He shuffled into a sitting position. “I like your get-up.”

  “Go back to sleep Dad, it’s still early.” Jo kissed his forehead. “I’ll get you a cup of tea and let Nipper out.” Nipper bounded off the bed and shot past Jo on the stairs.

  Jo opened the side door that led to an enclosed yard and Nipper flew out.

  “Behave yourself Nipper. Stop yapping!”

  The terrier raced happily round the raised flowerbeds. Jo left the door ajar and opened the concealed door that accessed the hotel from her home. She stepped through and closed the door behind her.

  “Morning Mrs E.” Judy called out, she stood by the mahogany cabinet and dipped cutlery into a jug of boiling water. “Thirty for lunch today, I’m so excited are you?” Judy polished the silverware with a soft cloth.

  Jo thought she was going to be sick with nerves but smiled at Judy and went through to the kitchen.

  “Morning Sandra, how’s it going?”

  Michael rinsed pots in the deep sink under the window and looked round. Jo reached up and took the menu from a bull-dog clip on the wall.

  Champagne & Canapés

  * * * * *

  Brandy Pate with Caramelised Onions and Melba Toast

  Roasted Red Pepper Soup with Sesame Seed Bread

  * * * * *

  Sole Veronique

  Fillet Steak with Rich Brown Sauce

  * * * * *

  Sandra’s Sticky Toffee Pudding & Vanilla Ice-cream

  Lemon Panacotta

  * * * * *

  Coffee and Fudge

  “You need to be organised Sandra.” Jo looked around the kitchen. “I know it’s a simple menu today, but it’ll three times that size tomorrow.”

  “We won’t let you down” Sandra assured her. “Michael needs a rocket up his arse, mind.”

  Jo prayed that Sandra would cope. She desperately wanted to put her chef’s whites on and get behind the stove, but her role was front of house and she was going to have to get used to it, no matter how much she longed for the security of the warm kitchen.

  “Thanks Sandra.” Jo said. “Could you ask Judy to take my Dad a mug of tea?”

  The front door buzzed. Jo left Sandra to her chores and went to reception. She poked her head over the desk and saw Hattie bustle down the hallway.

  “Suppose I should be using the tradesman’s entrance now, eh? By heck you look good.”

  “Good Morning Hattie, you look pretty
tidy yourself.”

  Hattie shrugged her coat off, hung it on the back of the door and pushed her handbag under the desk. She wore a black skirt and a white blouse with pretty lace edging.

  “You need to button up a bit.” Jo looked at Hattie’s blouse. The top four buttons were open and large amounts of creamy cleavage burst over the top of Hattie’s Wonderbra.

  “It’s got a life of its own this shirt.” Hattie pushed her wayward bosom into the constraints of the blouse and fastened two buttons. “Right, shall we start with a coffee and get cracking?”

  * * *

  As the morning wore on Jo paced round the hotel, she tried to reassure herself that she’d be better once the lunch was underway.

  The hotel looked lovely. Bees wax polish mingled with sweet smelling logs that crackled welcomingly in open fires. Jo flicked table lamps on and for the umpteenth time, plumped cushions as she checked every detail. The florist had created a stunning arrangement of tall tiger lilies on the hall table and their heady fragrance wafted through the rooms. The restaurant shone and crystal and silver sparkled on crisp white cloths with fan-shaped serviettes. A single yellow rose in a clear vase, sat in the middle of each table.

  Jo joined Judy in the wine cellar and carefully selected wine for the lunch.

  “There’s a visitor for you.” Hattie called down the steep steps.

  Jo checked that Judy had the correct white wine chilling and knew when to decant the red, then ducked her head under the low ceiling and ran up the steps.

  Robert Mann stood by the door with a huge bouquet in his arms.

  “Hello Robert, how lovely to see you.” Jo beamed as she saw the flowers.

  Robert was lost for words. Jo had cut her hair and looked striking! Her hourglass figure was elegant in a smart suit and heels and he was mesmerised by the red lace that peeped out of the suit jacket. She was positively seductive!