“It’s like a horror film!” Hattie muttered beneath armfuls of sodden wet wool. “I’ll put this lot in the cellar to dry off before you put me up for Miss Wet T-Shirt.” The tweeds clung to her thin blouse.
Jo was tempted to ask Lady Malvern if she needed assistance, but decided to send Simon.
“Like a lamb to the slaughter.” Hattie said. She tugged at her blouse and watched him cross the gravel. Lady Malvern waved her knife perilously close to his face and indicated that she wanted a drink. Simon flew through the door to the bar.
A voice boomed down the corridor.
“I say! Is that our Hosty?” Hattie and Jo dived into reception and crouched behind the desk.
“The Hosty with the Mosty! What?”
“Too late.” Hattie whispered and gave Jo a shove. Hugo Mulberry leaned over and waved an empty glass.
“Lost something ladies?” His eyes glued to Hattie’s damp blouse.
“You’ll loose your friggin’ eyeballs in a minute…” Hattie mumbled under her breath.
“Dropped our pencils.” She beamed. “What can I get you Sir?”
Hugo thrust his glass out. “Large Scotch old gal!”
“Large one it is Sir.” Hattie took the glass and disappeared with Hugo in hot pursuit.
The shooting party took tea in the Green Room then retired to freshen up before dinner. Jo was in the shower when Hattie interrupted her.
“The Spanish Love Machine’s on the phone.”
Hattie held the shower curtain back. Jo gesticulated but Hattie thrust the phone towards her. Jo grabbed it crossly and leapt out onto the bath mat. Hattie threw a towel at her and with a smirk, retreated.
“Hello?”
“Hi Babe, you busy?”
Jo felt herself bristle as she heard Greg’s voice. His smooth words would have pleased her once, now she felt her hackles rise.
“What do you want Greg?”
“Thought I’d drop by tomorrow, take the little chap out for the afternoon. That’s if you have no plans?”
Jo’s thoughts went fast forward. The shoot would be out on the moor and the hotel quiet. It was as good a time as any.
“You can come for Thomas at two o’clock, but I want him back by six.” That gave her time to get Greg off the premises before the evening rush began.
“Sure thing. You seem to have the place rocking, judging by the cars…”
Jo hung up. She didn’t want a conversation with Greg.
She looked at her face through the misted mirror. Why do I have to be so aggressive with him? She asked herself and wrapped the towel tightly round her damp body. Probably because he walked out and left you! She sighed and went to get ready for evening service.
* * *
Greg stared at the phone. The line was dead - she’d hung up on him! He replaced the phone on its cradle and opened the heavy door of the telephone box. He fumbled in his shirt pocket for a cigarette, flicked his lighter and inhaled deeply. He told himself that she must be busy, she usually held onto his every word. But this new Jo was different and Greg felt uneasy.
He’d had quite a start in the pub yesterday. A man had approached him. He was dressed in shooting gear and seemed to know everyone. He nodded curtly then leaned over and spoke quietly into Greg’s ear.
“You need to stay away from lass over th’road.”
“I beg your pardon?” Greg was startled.
“You ‘eard.” The stranger replied. “She’s a lot on and don’t need the likes of you getting’ in the way.” The man glared at Greg then turned and left. Greg downed his pint and pushed the glass forward for a refill. The landlord, who’d been chatty until then, pumped beer into the glass, took Greg’s money then turned his back and began a conversation with a bunch of drivers who seemed to be staying at the pub. Greg stroked his glass. This was going to be tricky. Clearly Jo had a following, not surprising as she employed half the village. Greg wasn’t used to not getting his own way and felt depressed. He could usually charm his way out of most situations. He thought about Estelle. She’d nagged all morning and complained that he never took her anywhere. In the end he’d stormed out. How he longed to be back with Jo! To be comfortably ensconced over the road with a loving wife and son. What a bloody fool he’d been! Greg finished his drink and banged the glass down. He picked up his cigarettes and slammed out of the pub.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Jo sat in The House Of Beauty and relaxed in a comfortable leather chair, as she watched an assistant pour coffee into a china cup. Paulie painted colour onto strands of Jo’s hair, then folded them into strips of silver foil.
“Well I never…” He said and leaned in close to listen to Jo’s gossip.
After three exhausting days and nights, Jo had despatched the shooting party on their way that morning. It had been mayhem. Staff flew about, fetching luggage and returning abandoned items to their rightful but clueless owners, who eventually stumbled into the chauffeur driven vehicles.
The guests had toasted each other as they enjoyed a raucous breakfast-come-brunch. Lady Malvern knocked back several brandies then nodded off in her Westmarland grill and egg yolk clung to her chocolate coated earing. Hugo Mulberry had a final feel of Hattie’s ample behind and roared with laughter when she slapped his hand.
“I love a gal with spirit!” He’d bellowed.
Henry Mulberry settled the bills. He never flinched as Jo produced the total amount. She had a full breakdown of everyone’s account for him to inspect but he waved it away and signed a Coutts cheque with a flourish, then produced a large envelope of cash and counted out five hundred pounds.
“You’ve done us proud. Thank you M’Dear.” He asked Jo to put the cash in the staff box. “We’ll be back next year but I’m sure you’ll see some of my guests well before then.” He looked around and seemed to search for something. “Have you seen Sefton this morning?” Henry’s Labrador was missing.
“I think you’ll find him in the back of Cider 4 Sir.” Jo had replied. She’d winced and hoped that Pippa wasn’t in there too…
“The bedrooms are bombed Paulie.” Jo took a sip of the strong coffee.
“Darling, I can imagine.” Paulie cooed sympathetically.
“None of them paid a scrap of attention to our no smoking policy and they were completely blotto for three days, there’s such a mess everywhere.”
Paulie shook his head in wonder.
“I’ve left the staff blitzing the place.”
“Best way, it’ll be sparkling when you get back.” He pursed his lips and fiddled with the gown around her neck.
Jo was exhausted but felt elated. The shoot was great success and she’d deposited the considerable cheque into the bank - it would more than take the pressure off for a week or two. Many of the guests had asked about future shoots, they belonged to a number of consortiums who’d be interested in shooting near Marland. Alf would have no trouble in securing the rights and he’d done a fine job with the supply of birds, ensuring that even the worst shot went home happy. The cold room was full of grouse. Autumn menus sorted, Jo thought as she finished her coffee.
“Isn’t Hugo Mulberry an MP?” Paulie clicked his fingers for a refill. The assistant rushed forward and filled Jo’s cup.
“A true blue if ever you saw one.”
“Very blue by the sound of things…” Paulie pulled a face.
“Hands like an octopus Paulie.” Jo said. “But my wine cellar’s empty and the bar dry so it was worth every grope and grapple.”
“And what about Sefton? Where on earth did you find him?” Paulie raised his eyebrows. Jo closed her eyes…
She’d been certain when she’d locked up the previous night that Pippa was alone in her box under the stairs. This morning however, two dogs slumbered happily in the box, their snores clearly audible as Jo flew down. Pippa thumped her tail, she was curled up alongside the sleek and shiny Sefton.
“Holy shit!” Hattie exclaimed as she descended the stairs in her dressing gown. “I wondered what
the noise was – their snores have been raising the roof, I thought it was you… Sefton looks buggered!”
“So does Pippa…”
Neither dog moved.
“You’ll have to get him out of there.” Hattie whispered. They could hear voices from the restaurant. “Henry will have a heart attack if he sees his precious dog in with her.”
“Get dressed quickly and find Alf.” Jo said. “He’s bound to be waiting for his tips.”
Alf immediately took control.
“The Master’s lookin’ everywhere for this un.” He clipped a lead onto Sefton’s collar and tugged hard. The weary dog edged out of the box and Pippa howled.
“I’ll get him in a vehicle and no one will be any the wiser.” Alf disappeared through the side door.
“What a naughty girl!” Paulie clapped his hands to his face.
“Henry would have shot her if he’d found his precious Sefton anywhere near an unkempt mongrel, she’s lucky to be alive.”
“Is she in season?”
“Oh who knows Paulie…”
“Well I’m delighted that the weekend was a success for you Sweetheart, perhaps you’ll pop into Mondi on your way home and treat yourself eh?”
“I might just do that.” Jo said. There’s a lovely white crochet suit in the window.”
“Got you name on it Darling, but you need a hot date to go with it.”
He blew her a kiss and left her with magazines, a newspaper and a fresh coffee and went to attend to his next client. Jo turned the pages of the paper, her mind a million miles away from the photos of a smiling Duke and Duchess of York, celebrating the birth of their daughter Princess Beatrice. John had said he’d call and her heart skipped a beat as she thought about him. Why didn’t Mark Pucker have that effect? Jo flicked the page and scanned the headline. Mrs Thatcher was visiting a navy patrol in the Gulf. Jo wished the Prime Minister would stay at home and sort out rising interest rates. She pushed the paper to one side. John wouldn’t phone, it was no good getting her hopes up. With a sigh, Jo reached for a magazine and focussed on the glossy pages.
* * *
“By heck, she’s a new woman!” Hattie looked up from her paperwork as Jo stepped into reception and deposited several carrier bags. “And you’ve been spending your ill gotten gains?”
“It’s exhausting keeping up appearances Hattie.” Jo slumped into a chair.
“Not as exhausting as re-stocking this place.” Hattie drew a pencil line through a long list and Jo leaned over to check it. Hattie had completed all the orders and new supplies had begun to arrive.
“The phone’s been ringing while you were out, and guess what?”
“What?”
“Mark Pucker’s booked the Rose Room for a one day conference on Thursday.”
“God that was quick.” Jo sat up. “I thought he was away with his kids.”
“He is, but wants to get his team together and says it’ll be handy to do it here.”
“Well that’s easy enough. Flip charts, boardroom seating, coffee, some lunch and afternoon tea.” Jo said.
“He’s asked for a barbeque lunch in the garden, if the weather’s still fine. Gerald is wire brushing that old oil drum as we speak and Alf’s rigged up a frame. Is Greg having Thomas on Thursday?” Hattie concentrated on the diary and braced herself for Jo’s reply.
“He thinks he is, but he can bloody well think again.” Jo snapped. She was furious with Greg. The day before, he’d returned Thomas two hours later than agreed and Jo had been frantic with worry. She’d had visions of the child being whisked off to Spain. Greg had pulled up at eight o’clock, just as the restaurant was getting busy and the shooting party about to sit down.
“Well I don’t know what you expected, after the way you spoke to him.” Hattie stifled a grin as she recalled the previous afternoon.
Greg had pulled onto the drive at two o’clock precisely and parked by the house. Jo had Thomas in her arms and Ann carried a bag that bulged with everything the child could possibly need for a few hours with his father. Hattie dragged the buggy over the gravel and began to collapse it down. Greg was utterly charming as he greeted everyone. He wore a pale blue cotton shirt and printed in the fabric was a bikini clad girl holding a beach ball. Around her smiling face was the motif - Lovers Do It Better In Espana! Hattie nudged Ann as they watched Jo read the words. Her face was a picture.
“Lovers do it better in Espana?” Jo said incredulously. “You couldn’t do it very well here, never mind bloody Spain!”
Greg’s face turned purple and he was about to retort but Jo thrust the car seat into his arms. She handed Thomas to Ann, kissed his head and threw a parting shot.
“Back by six and no later!”
“Don’t you think it was a bit harsh?” Hattie tried not to laugh. Greg had regained his composure quickly and was sickly smooth with Ann.
“Oh he deserves it Hattie, it was horrible handing Thomas over to him.” Jo looked perplexed. “I suppose it was a bit cruel though. But if he will wear such a stupid shirt…” She trailed off.
Hattie snapped the diary closed.
“Well I thought it was hilarious, he needs that smirk wiping off his smug face.” She grinned. “But you can’t blame him for being late. He had to get back at you somehow.”
“No, I suppose not.” Jo shook her head. “But I hate the thought of him driving off with Thomas, and Estelle being a few hundred yards away. He couldn’t cope with Thomas on his own.”
“Well you’ll just have to get used to it.” Hattie reached for her bag. “That sod I was married to doesn’t come near my boys. At least Greg’s making an effort.”
“I can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive.” Jo said. “Anyway, you’ve got Bertie now; he’ll be a good influence.” Jo watched Hattie’s face light up.
“Aye and talking of Bertie, I’m off to get some decent tackle. See you later.” Hattie threw her bag over her shoulder and ran down the hallway. She was travelling to Ireland on Sunday and Bertie’s money was burning a hole in her pocket.
Hattie planned to be away for the rest of the school holidays but in reality, Jo knew it was unlikely she’d be back. Her new life was in Ireland. Jo sighed.
“Shall I take over Mrs E?” Judy appeared from the kitchen. Jo glanced at her watch and began to gather her bags.
“Please Judy.”
“Fancy a cup of tea before you disappear?” Judy asked.
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Jo took in Judy’s neat new blouse and freshly washed hair, which softened her pretty face.
“You look nice. Is Alf on his way in, by any chance?” Judy blushed and hurried off to get the tea. The phone rang.
“Good afternoon, Kirkton House.” Jo put her bags on the chair and reached for a pen.
“Hope you’ve got something sexy to wear on Thursday?” John Doherty whispered. Jo’s heart missed a beat and her eyes flew to the embossed Escada carrier bag, where the white crochet suit lay wrapped in layers of soft tissue.
“Underneath too.” He teased. “I like the red lace best.”
Jo sucked her stomach in and closed her eyes.
“I’ll pick you up at twelve.”
“Er, OK. I’ll be ready.” Her pulse raced.
“I take it you’ve ditched the rugby player?” John’s voice had an edge.
“There’s nothing to ditch.” Jo crossed her fingers. Thursday? She opened her eyes, bugger! Mark was here with his conference…
“Good. I’ll see you then.” John hung up.
“Here’s your tea Mrs. E. You alright?” Judy asked. “You’ve gone all flushed.”
“I’m fine Judy. It’s very warm in here.” Jo put the phone down and picked up the mug of tea. Judy held the door.
“See you later, get some bookings in - we’re going to need them soon.” Jo skipped past Judy and headed off to try on her new suit.
* * *
Hattie floored the accelerator pedal and forced the Opel Kadette along
the main road out of Kirkton Sowerby. It chugged along in the traffic, which was unusually light for an August afternoon. Even with the glorious weather, holiday makers seemed thin on the ground - people had begun to feel the pinch.
Hattie felt very content. For once, the worries weren’t hers. She’d a fantastic man who was going to spoil her rotten and make a home for her. They would be a proper family and Hattie couldn’t wait. She slowed down as she approached the motorway, then drove onto the slip road and indicated to join the fast moving traffic. A huge green and red truck flashed its headlights to let her in. Betty Marie was embossed across its cabin. Good old Eddie Stobart Hattie thought, as she held her hand up to thank the driver of the local fleet wagon, the most courteous drivers on the road.
Hattie was going to treat herself today. She was determined to buy at least one decent outfit, more if Dorothy had a sale on and a couple of decent bras from Camille’s. She wondered if Vera would be sober. She’d treat the kids too. Hattie planned her route round the shops, which included a trip to the boys department in Hoopers store, and a nice dress for her Mam. She’d booked for her to come over to Bertie’s farm during the last week of their stay in Ireland and had been amazed that her mother had willingly agreed.
“There’s no bus back from Heaven our Harriet.” Her mother lit another cigarette from the butt she’d just finished. “I’ll take me chances like you and get some memories under me belt, afore it’s too late.”
Hattie knew her mother loved her grandsons too much to be parted from them for long. She sighed happily. It was all going to be fine for her family. If only it could work out well for Jo too. Hattie thought about Mark Pucker. He seemed keen but Hattie knew that it wasn’t reciprocal, and no amount of encouragement was going to make Jo see things differently, not as long as John Doherty was on the scene. What was it with him? For the life of her, Hattie couldn’t understand Jo’s attraction. Hattie thought he was trouble in capital letters. But even Bertie had admitted a soft spot for John and he’d known him for years. Hattie would have to find out more about him and made a mental note to question Bertie when the opportunity next arose. Greg was a pain in the arse. He was trying to worm his way back in… He must have some money left from the settlement maybe he could help Jo. Estelle couldn’t have ploughed through that lot could she? But it would mean Jo taking him back and Hattie knew that would never do. What a sod that the economy was struggling so badly. Jo had set up a cracking business which bought life to the village, they all loved working there. All Jo needed was more customers. Hattie wracked her brains. She’d leave no stone unturned before she went away.
Coffee, Tea, The Gypsy & Me... Page 22
