“The Emperor Hoisin Sauce and his Consort!”
Paulie ducked under the red curtain and swept into the bar. He towered above the girls in a magnificent colourful kimono and headdress. Robbie appeared, looking equally as regal.
“Darlings!” Paulie squealed and embraced them both.
“Let’s have a toast to the evening.” Paulie raised his glass. “And to Hattie – thank the Lord she’s back with the living, I never thought I’d peel her off that vile sofa! She was drowning in Draylon…”
Paulie gave a conspiratorial wink and Jo realised who’d finally got Hattie going again. She winked back and mouthed a Thank You!
More guests arrived. Alf led a party of eight lads from the pub. Heading them up as the War Lord Chin, he explained that they were his warriors taking a break from building the Great Wall. Jo and Hattie stood in amazement as they all trooped into the dining room. They wore an assortment of old farming clothing and carried pitch forks and spades.
“More like the Worzles.” Hattie commented as they watched the lads necking shots of Sake and cheering each other on. “Things could get messy.”
The meal was a success. Course after course of delicacies poured from the kitchen, and each was greeted with enthusiasm by the more than merry diners. Alf explained that the shredded duck had never flown anywhere near Peking and was swimming about on the estate pond a couple of days ago. Paulie was in raptures over the sweet and sour pork, declaring that he simply had to have the recipe before he left the building. Sally was playing a medley of pop songs on the piano, the Chinese music tape having been wrenched from the stereo before the second course.
“It’s a great atmosphere Jo.” Hattie stood by the Rose Room doorway watching keenly over both restaurants.
“Yes and it’s made totally complete because you’re here.” Jo felt her eyes welling up again.
“Don’t start. You’ll have me going… It was time I got a grip.” She looked round the room and her eyes rested on Paulie. “It took a bollocking from the Emperor to get me here though.” She shook her head. “He told me you were going under and to get off my fat arse and help where helps needed, so here I am.” She turned to Jo. “And Bertie wouldn’t want me to leave you on your own; he’ll be up there in his kimono too, doing a jig and raising a glass.” She smiled. “Come on – we’ve a raffle to do.”
Hattie picked up a spoon and banged it on a glass bowl. Jo announced that if everyone would like to get their tickets ready, the raffle was about to be drawn. Hattie had folded the raffle tickets into a silver ice bucket and she went to one of the guests and asked them to pull the first ticket. Jo announced the number and a guest in the panel room pagoda held up her ticket with delight. Jo selected one of the wrapped prizes from the top of the piano and handed it to her. The guest had the wrapping off the box of chocolates before she got back to her seat and was greeted with applause. The second ticket was drawn and another happy diner received a bottle of red wine. The third ticket went to one of the lads on Alf’s table. He beamed as he felt a glass bottle through the paper, then sat down and began to unwrap it.
“Are you takin’ the piss?” A voice bellowed out.
Jo and Hattie spun round and saw the lad holding up a half-empty bottle of soy sauce. Its rim was crusty and congealed matter stuck to the neck of the bottle.
“Fuck!” Hattie whispered. “I was talking to Sandra, I must’ve wrapped up her ingredients!” She dived through the swing door to the wine cellar and came out with a bottle of Blue Nun.
“Just a little joke.” Jo called out. She’d managed to retrieve the situation but glared at Hattie as the lad grabbed the wine.
“No offence taken.” He grinned back.
The raffle continued and Jo made a point of feeling each prize as it left the top of the piano. On the final prize she hesitated before handing it out.
“It feels like a tube.” She hissed to Hattie.
“That’s all right – its body lotion.” Hattie whispered back.
Paulie swept forward with his winning ticket and claimed his prize. He flounced back to his chair to cheers of “All Hail the Mighty Emperor!” from Alf’s table.
“And his Queen!” Paulie replied looking lovingly at Robbie and handed him the prize.
“They’ll love it.” Hattie referred to the body lotion and Jo sighed with relief. Sally began to thump out Elvis numbers as the staff pulled back tables and guests began to dance.
The evening was a triumph. Hattie and Simon were glued to the bar and served until well after closing time as guests partied after the meal. The staff never stopped and the kitchen was a mass of dirty china and pots. Gerald stepped into the still room.
“Soon have this lot sorted Mrs E.” He assured Jo and instructed the part-time students to get stuck in.
Jo took a round of drinks into the kitchen and placed the tray on Sandra’s spotless steel table.
“Good night eh?” Sandra smacked her lips together as she tasted her pint of ale.
“Brilliant Sandra – the food was fantastic.” Jo picked up a wonton and bit into it. “These are very good.”
“Aye we’ll make something of the lad yet.” Sandra smiled over at Gerald. He blushed but looked pleased as he sipped his shandy. Arthur had joined him. He wore a rubber apron and was carefully drying glasses. He waved when he saw Jo.
“Sorry about the ingredients getting mixed up in the raffle.” Sandra gulped the pint back.
“Well at least it was only one that went wrong, I can’t blame Hattie – I’m too pleased that she is back.”
“What’s that about me?” Hattie came out of the bar and flopped on the table.
“Talking about you not to you” Sandra said and swept the glasses off the table. Clear off. We’ve got a full house of breakfasts tomorrow and I need to get finished.” Sandra looked fondly at Arthur and shooed them away.
“I’ll get on with the bills.” Hattie headed off to reception.
Jo checked her watch and decided to slip to the loo before checking the restaurant again. She returned to reception and leaned on the desk as Hattie prepared guest accounts and slotted them into the bill folders.
“I’ll check the restaurant and make sure the stragglers are happy. It’s time Elvis left the building.” Jo said. “Paulie was doing a Chinese Little Richard impersonation last time I looked. It wasn’t going down too well with the Worzles.”
“Pitchforks and handbags at dawn.” Hattie mumbled as she totted up the bills.
“I thought he was very good about the mix up with the body lotion.” Jo poked Hattie on the shoulder.
“Alright. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t wrap up that half empty tube of tomato puree on purpose.” Hattie looked at Jo. They both began to giggle. The front door buzzer sounded and Hattie turned her head.
“Who can that be?”
“Probably a taxi.” Jo turned to find out. A man had his back to the corridor as she approached. He turned round.
“Nice get up.”
John Doherty looked Jo up and down. Jo’s heart crashed through her chest.
“You have to be joking!” She stammered.
“Not at this time of night.” John looked at his Rolex.
Jo could barely speak. She felt a wave of pleasure at seeing him but that quickly faded into a storm of anger. He was so flippant!”
“Still serving?” He asked.
“No.”
“Got a room?”
“No chance. We’re full.”
“Come on Jo, we need to talk.” John stepped towards her but she moved away.
“I’m sure the North Westmarland Hotel will have a room, you should try there.” Jo was adamant, her face set. John watched her for a few moments.
“OK. Fair enough.” He nodded. “But come and have a coffee with me in the morning, I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you ever again.” Jo coolly replied. She turned and walked down the corridor. She tried to keep control, it was so hard to send
him on his way and she felt her heart pulling her back.
“Jo!” John called after her.
“What?” She snapped back.
“Your dress is caught in your knickers.”
Jo spun round and felt for the hem of her dress. Sure enough, it was embedded in the waistband of her large flesh-coloured control pants.
“Fuck!” She exclaimed as the front door closed behind John.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
“Oh Lord Hattie! Will you just look at them!”
Jo lay on the floor in her lounge. Her blue silk dress was crumpled and stained and tears streamed down her tired and unkempt face. She reached into the mound of blankets under the stairs and stroked Pippa’s head lovingly.
“You’re a beautiful girl.” Jo cooed as Pippa nuzzled her hand. The dog turned to lick the bodies of the squirming puppies vying for position on her swollen nipples. Hattie handed Jo a glass of champagne and smiled. It’d been a long night and even longer morning.
Contrary to Martin’s assurances that Pippa would ‘get on with it,’ they’d spent the whole night chasing round after her. Pippa had managed to slope into the panel room when Hattie was locking up, and it was the dog’s plaintive howls that had alerted Jo. Screaming for Hattie to bring hot water and towels, Jo sank to her knees and tried to coax Pippa out from under the tables and chairs. She wanted to lead the dog back into the house to the comfort of her warm box but Pippa was having none of it. Panting heavily, she darted away from Jo and made it as difficult as possible to let anyone near her, then proceeded to intermittently pop puppies out as she travelled round the room. Jo was almost hysterical.
“Call an ambulance!” She screamed as Hattie dashed in with armfuls of towels and told her not to be so bleedin’ stupid. The dog was doing what dogs did.
“Oh my God Hattie there’s one wriggling by the coal scuttle!”
Jo crawled along the floor and gently scooped the minute puppy onto her palm.
“It’s so tiny!” She whispered. “Oh God, what do we do?”
“Give it ‘ere.” Hattie crawled along the floor behind Jo and scooped the puppy out of her hand. She tucked it in her cleavage. “I’ll keep the little bugger warm ‘till his Mam’s ready for him.”
By dawn they’d managed to cordon Pippa off and lead her back into the house. She’d had five puppies. Jo breathed a sigh of relief as Pippa settled into her box, which was stuffed with soft, clean blankets. Hattie made a cup of tea and handed one to Jo as they watched the puppies wriggle like maggots.
“Why isn’t she feeding them?” Jo looked worried.
“I don’t know.” Hattie replied. “I think we should put them somewhere separate or she’ll crush them, she looks restless.”
“It’s no good Hattie, go and wake Martin up.” Jo elbowed Hattie and tea slopped onto her trousers.
“Watch me outfit!” Hattie looked at the remnants of last night’s fancy dress gear.
“Sod that – get round there and wake him up.” Jo grabbed Hattie’s tea, put the mug on the floor and reached into the box to separate the puppies from an anguished Pippa.
A few moments later, Martin appeared in his pyjamas.
“Thank God you’re here.” Jo stood up and moved back to allow Martin access to the box.
“I could hardly refuse. Its not often you have one of the Crankies banging your door down in the middle of the night.” He glared at Hattie then took his stethoscope out, knelt down and began to examine Pippa. Jo pulled Hattie back as she took a swinging kick at Martin’s behind.
“There’s at least three more to come.” Martin stood up. “Give the others formula milk until she’s ready to feed.” He took a tin and a bag of pipettes out of his leather case. “Call me if she struggles but please try and leave it ‘till at least lunchtime.” He glared at Hattie, then turned on his slippers and marched out of the room. Ann was leaning over the banisters.
“Want any help?” She trotted down the stairs. “Gosh they’re beautiful. Alf will be delighted, a collie and lab mix – perfect for the farmers.” She picked one of the puppies up and stroked it.
“Sod Alf.” Hattie said. “Can you show Mother Theresa here how to feed these little blighters?”
Ann went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. She made up the formula, let it cool then drew it up into five small pipettes. She took a puppy in one hand and fed it from a pipette in the other.
“Look! He’s hungry. Come on Hattie – get busy.”
Jo had returned to the box and was back on her stomach stroking Pippa.
As Martin had predicted, three more puppies were born during the morning. Hattie tidied the box and put clean blankets down. Sandra crept in with some finely minced chicken and gravy for the new mother and Gerald bought two brand new shiny dog bowls wrapped in gift paper, with a ribbon and a card from Arthur and himself. Judy knelt down with a pen and pad and began to make a note of names. Old Johnny knocked at the window and handed them huge bunch of roses. The last of this year’s blooms, he whispered.
Jo was in raptures over the eight magnificent puppies she had squirming before her. They settled Pippa with her brood and watched in awe as they gravitated to a nipple each and began to feed. Pippa sighed and closed her eyes. Ann handed Thomas to Jo and they all sat round the box watching the new arrivals.
“Uppies Muma! ‘Oof!” Thomas stared in wonder. The kitchen door opened. Alf banged into the room and placed planks of wood on the floor beside a hammer and nails.
“You’ll be needing a whelpin’ box.” He said, as he too knelt down and looked at the new arrivals.
“Bonny.” He spoke softly and smiled. “Little beauties! All black like their Dad.” He thought fondly of Sefton.
Jo moved away from the box. She looked around. Things were tough right now and she knew in her heart that business was a struggle - it had a knock on effect on them all. But she was safe in her warm home with new life happily being nourished and everyone helping in their way. She looked over at Hattie. Minus the wig, Hattie’s hair was flattened to her head and her body burst out of the too small outfit she still wore. Hattie looked up and caught Jo’s eye. She smiled and held out her hand.
“Bertie loved dogs.” Hattie spoke. “He had a soft spot for old Pippa.” Tears dripped down her cheeks.
“Then we’d better call our first born Bertie.” Jo took Hattie’s hand.
They looked down at the sleeping form of baby Bertie, who they’d found beside the coal scuttle and kept warm in Hattie’s bra. He was lying on his back with his paws in the air, his soft pink tummy exposed to the world. Hattie chuckled.
“Aye,” she whispered “And doesn’t he just look like him.”
Jo squeezed Hattie’s hand. She turned to them all.
“Judy, open some champagne and take it through to the kitchen – I want everyone to toast this little lot.” Pippa snored loudly. “Could you bring a bottle in here for me and Hattie please. I think our new arrivals need some peace and quiet but thank you all for everything.”
“You simply cannot beat the taste of bubbly.” Jo lay on the floor. Hattie lay comatose beside her. Both stared up at the ceiling.
“We ought to get out of these mucky clothes.” Hattie said.
“Yes. And get a couple of hours sleep. The weekend is getting busy.”
Jo thought about the diary. It was remarkable, since yesterday they’d taken several bookings. The weather had improved and the sun shone like lozenges through the leaded windows of the house. Pippa was licking her puppies and they began to squeal. Feeding time again! The girls sat up and Jo knocked over the empty bottle.
“Shit, we’ve drunk it all.”
“I think we deserved it.” Hattie shook her head. “I’m off for a shower.” She stood up unsteadily and began to climb the stairs.
“What time is it?” Jo looked anxiously at the wall clock. It had stopped.
“Why?” Hattie held onto the banister. Please God! May Jo not remember that trouble with a capital T had arriv
ed last night, and asked her to meet him this morning. “It’s well after lunchtime.” Hattie crossed her fingers and continued to climb the stairs.
Jo crawled to her knees and looked into Pippa’s box. The dog looked content as the puppies began to feed again.
“Well I’ve buggered that up Pippa.” Jo whispered and stroked the tiny bodies as she thought about John. He would’ve checked out of the hotel now. There was no chance of her ever seeing him again. But maybe that was for the best? If he really wanted to speak to her, he would have phoned or called in this morning. Jo sighed. Her heart felt a stab of pain again, as if a cold steel was being twisted through it. Come on Jo – get over it! You’ve a business to run! With any luck things were starting to turn around a bit. She leaned in and tickled Pippa’s ears. As if I haven’t got enough to do… She stood up and straightened her dress then ran up the stairs to her bathroom.
“I hope you haven’t had all the hot water.” Jo called out to Hattie. Hattie stood under the shower. She closed her eyes and looked heavenward.
“There is a God – thank you Bertie!” She whispered to the ceiling. Jo hadn’t mentioned John. Smiling to herself, Hattie picked up a tube of Jo’s most expensive shower cream and liberally squeezed it all over her body, then luxuriated in the hot jets of rejuvenating water that poured down.
* * *
Greg drove along the main road and happily contemplated the day. He was picking Thomas up for the afternoon and with any luck, he’d see Jo and continue his charm offensive. He felt she was ready for it; Black Monday will have hit her hard. No one was spending any money - even the pub had been empty last night. Greg had decided on a few carefully chosen words of wit and charm and subtle hints that his cup still overfloweth. He’d be home and dry in no time!
She must be having sleepless nights with all those overheads. Anyway, the place was too posh by far, no wonder she was struggling. Greg dug in his pocket and pulled a cigarette out. He fumbled with his lighter, lit the cigarette and dragged deeply. The place should be one big pub, decent bar meals, with a kid’s play area in the back - they’d make a mint! Never mind fancy bedrooms – he’d rent the rooms out as bed-sitters. He’d heard that Heaven Holiday Parks had planning in for a site in Marland Forest – they’d have staff from all over wanting rooms. That land at the back of the hotel should be grazing, think what the travellers would pay in Fair Week! He pulled into the hotel gates and noticed a red Ferrai. He’d seen it before. It was some piece of metal, must be worth a fortune. A man came out of the front door. He looked angry as he got in the Ferrai, slammed the door and roared away.
Coffee, Tea, The Gypsy & Me... Page 27
