Coffee, Tea, The Gypsy & Me...

by Caroline James

  * * *

  New Years Eve morning began with another hard frost. Jo woke early and threw her bedroom window open, she breathed in the crisp cold air and gazed at the garden below. The top of the marquee was almost as tall as her window. It stretched out before her like a shimmering silver screen as the sun’s wintry rays reflected across the large expanse of canvas. Jo wanted to leap out of her window and bounce over it like an acrobat on a huge trampoline.

  “Don’t jump!” Hattie came through the bedroom door carrying a tray of tea. She placed it on the table by Jo’s bed then gathered her thick housecoat around her and climbed under the duvet.

  “Shut the bleedin’ window and get us a cup of tea, my fingers are too numb to grip the pot.”

  Jo closed the window and poured two mugs of steaming tea.

  “There’s nothing like the first cup of the day.” Hattie cradled the mug in her hands contentedly and sank deep into the warm bed.

  “Well this is it.” Jo shoved Hattie to one side and climbed in beside her. “I’m really excited.”

  “Been a funny old year hasn’t it.” Hattie was thoughtful. “I don’t just mean with Bertie dying, and I’m not going on about that or I’ll get upset.” She sipped her tea. “But you did a hell of a lot this year you know, and you changed my life when you offered me a job.”

  “I don’t know how I would have done it without you Hattie.”

  “Ah rubbish, you’ll always be fine. By the way, you mustn’t think folk don’t know about the offer.” She looked over at Jo. “There’s been surveyors taking photos and Peter Gavmin was pissed in the Templars the other night and said he’d have a big conveyancing job soon. Folk aren’t daft. They soon put two and two together and they’re naturally worried about their jobs.”

  “Oh bugger!” Jo was furious. “It’s supposed to be confidential. Capital Country Houses have no right to have surveyors sneaking round and I’ll kill Peter Gavmin…”

  “Never trust a fat man with round eyes.” Hattie muttered.

  “The staff have nothing to worry about – quite the opposite if Capital get planning permission for another forty bedrooms.”

  “It’ll be like a Travel Lodge.” Hattie went deeper into the bed.

  “Anyway,” Jo gave her a nudge. “We’ve got tons to do and a party to get organised, move your fat arse!”

  “It’s curvy and cuddly.” Hattie retorted. “Wait ‘till I strut my stuff in that green dress tonight - Westmarland Wives better watch out!”

  She leapt out of bed and headed for the shower. As she went through Jo’s dressing room she stopped and looked at their dresses hanging on the wardrobe. Jo’s red creation was a stunner, even on the hangar. Hattie started to hum Chris De Burgh’s hit song Lady In Red – if only Jo had someone special to dance with!

  Hattie wondered what Gypsy John was up to. No doubt married at long last and organising a Romany revelry to bring in the New Year. Well bloody good luck to him! She thought angrily and stomped into the bathroom.

  * * *

  For the last two days, households throughout the county had been gearing themselves up for this evening’s frivolity. The Atkinsons had arranged to have a drinks reception at home at six o’clock for their party of twenty family and friends and Billy had two mini buses laid on to take them all to the hotel.

  Paulie was made away in the salon with ladies wanting upswept styles like Princess Di, to go with cocktail dresses that had been resurrected from the back of closets, camphor bags having been removed and mothballs brushed out.

  Jo had been in the salon the day before for a cut and highlights.

  “Everyone’s talking about it Sweetie, it’s the hottest ticket in town.”

  Paulie whirled round in a frenzy; cutting and tinting two clients at once. They had London friends arriving today for the party and Robbie was meeting the afternoon train.

  “Make sure we’ve got the best table!” He watched Jo’s reflection in the mirror, then leaned over and whispered in her ear,

  “A little bird’s told me that you may be sprouting wings?”

  Jo couldn’t hold his gaze.

  “You mustn’t believe what you hear, you gossip too much.” She picked up a magazine and began to take interest in Mrs Thatcher’s visit with Falkland war veterans. She felt guilty that she couldn’t tell Paulie the truth.

  “Well it’s none of my business I’m sure.” Paulie pulled a face then flounced off to his other client.

  As Jo walked back to her car she saw Dougie Cannon wiping down his fish counter. He called out to her.

  “We’re looking forward to the party Mrs Edmonds. We’ve a table booked with Arthur Harrison. Annie’s had a new dress!”

  Jo called back that she was looking forward to seeing them too. She headed back to the hotel and remembered that Sandra’s mother was joining the Cannon party.

  * * *

  Peter Gavmin was nursing the mother of all hangovers that was running from one day into the next. Christmas was a time when he could drink in abundance, his office being closed for two weeks. Like Robert, things were quiet over the festive period but he was relishing the thought that Kirkton House would soon change hands. Robert had told him in confidence and Peter was certain he’d handle the legalities for Jo. That would be a nice little earner for the New Year!

  They were travelling by taxi to the event tonight with the Mann’s and had Dick Littlefair, the greengrocer and his wife on their table alongside Trevor and Prue Pigmy. Peter rubbed his hands together, it was always good to socialise with the clients. He looked at his watch, three o’clock – no harm in having a livener, get a couple or so ahead of the others. He poured himself a large scotch.

  * * *

  Linda and Kath stood by the mirror in Margaret’s bedroom and complimented each other on their smart get-ups. They wore black dresses (which they normally wore for the Church choir) and had added white lace collars. It was a nice change from their normal chambermaid’s gear. They pulled on warm coats, said goodbye to Margaret’s husband and walked together through the snowy village to the hotel. The trio were in charge of the cloakroom tonight and would have three hundred coats to take responsibility for. They discussed how to hand tickets out, and pin the corresponding numbers on the numerous coats, scarves, brollies and hats they would be accountable for.

  * * *

  Mr Knight from the bank and his good lady wife were staying with their friends the Capsticks, who lived in the village. Capsticks Carpets had supplied the hotel in the refurbishment and the close friends had arranged for Phillip Campbell to transport them to the hotel at seven twenty five sharp. Mr Knight was looking forward to the evening. He’d had the unpleasant task of reminding Jo every time she went over her overdraft limit and it had been stressful. Left to him, he wouldn’t have bothered her, but head office at the Westmarland Trust Bank had very strict rules. Thankfully she had ridden through her little storm and was now back on track. Although he’d heard that she may be selling up? That would be a pity as he’d always enjoyed having her as a client.

  * * *

  Jo watched the band unload their instruments and set their equipment up on the stage. Casually dressed in jeans and trainers they’d asked for a changing room and Hattie had instructed them to use the staff room.

  Agency staff had arrived and Judy showed them what to do. She handed out long black aprons with Kirkton House embroidered on the bib - they looked smart against in crisp white shirts and black trousers. Simon, Steven and Penny would each take charge of a team. Bottles of champagne in huge plastic boxes were chilling in mountains of ice and Hattie supervised the brewery staff as they set up the bar.

  In the catering tent Sandra had the starters stacked on tall plate racks, a medley of seafood or game terrine was carefully plated, covered and ready to go. Thank God we don’t have to wash this lot up! Jo thought. The catering company who hired the china offered that service and Jo had taken advantage of it.

  Sandra supervised last minute details of
the meal. Sumptuous joints of meat were ready to be carved hot at the buffet table and salads and savouries were being piled high in huge serving dishes, with dozens of different accompaniments to the lavish spread. Gerald and Marian ran around as Sandra barked out her final instructions.

  * * *

  In the town house flat in Butterly, Estelle dressed very carefully. She was every inch a Spanish Flamenco dancer tonight, in her tightly fitted Salsa style dress with a thigh high split. Fancy combs and a mantilla looked splendid in her hair.

  Greg hunted for cuff links and thrust his wrists out so that Estelle could fasten them. He had to admit - she looked stunning. Her glossy black hair was pile high on her head and she towered above him in black stilettos.

  She leaned into a mirror and painted her full lips with a scarlet lipstick.

  “You’re hair too long in that suit.” Estelle frowned as she watched his reflection. “Look stupid.”

  Greg lifted his locks off the collar of his dinner suit. She was right. It was far too casual for this penguin look. She tossed one of her elastic bands over to him.

  “Tie it back.”

  Greg caught the band and looked at her with surprise. She was very bossy recently and her command of English was improving by the day. He combed his hair into a pony tail and twisted it into the band.

  “Better.” Estelle walked confidently past him. She towered over him in her high heels.

  Greg sighed as he liberally applied Jo’s favourite aftershave. Not for much longer! He thought…

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The Clock on the hall table chimed seven o’clock. Jo and Hattie kneeled on the window seat and looked out of the long window to the driveway below, where snow was falling in soft spongy blobs onto the gravel.

  The ‘A’ board on the verge was covered in a large poster which read - GALA BALL TONIGHT! Stationed by the door, the twins waited to greet guests, take their tickets and direct them to the marquee. They looked handsome in their black dinner suits with tartan bow ties and cummerbunds.

  Jo took a deep breath. Her stomach lurched like a bouncing ball. There was nothing more she could do to prepare and the scene was now set for the party.

  Hattie pointed to a vehicle making its way across the village.

  “Looks like Phillips’ started all ready.”

  They could see coloured balloons bouncing from the roof rack of Phillip Campbell’s jeep. The words SHUFFLE BUS in Old Johnny’s bold print were emblazed across the bonnet.

  “Shouldn’t that read Shuttle?” Hattie asked.

  “Yes, but we won’t dwell on it.”

  Hattie and Jo turned and faced each other. Both were resplendent in their party outfits.

  “God we look good!” Hattie thrust her shoulders back and pushed her chest forward. Jo fiddled nervously with the diamond necklace that she had, at the last minute, decided to wear.

  “Come on Cinders – you shall go to the ball!”

  Hattie held out her arm and Jo took it. They slowly descended the stairs.

  “Feels like a scene from Gone with the Wind,” Hattie whispered as they negotiated the turn in the stairway. “You make a good Scarlett O’Hara in that get up.” She held onto the banister. “You go first.”

  Jo lifted the front of her dress as she began her descent, the fishtail fanned out behind her.

  The Gavmin party had arrived and were being greeted by the twins. They looked up as Jo and Hattie appeared on the staircase. Peter wolf whistled and Robert’s jaw dropped. Lady Miriam scowled and tugged at Robert’s sleeve.

  “You’re making a fool of yourself!” She hissed.

  “Quite frankly My Dear – I don’t give a damn!” Robert gazed at Jo with complete adoration. She looked absolutely beautiful in her red gown.

  “Good evening everybody.” Jo welcomed the guests.

  Penny came forward to take them through to the marquee.

  “There’s trouble there.” Hattie nodded at the retreating backs.

  Lady Miriam’s head bounced as she told Robert off. Peter Gavmin swayed from side to side, he was half cut already and Jo wondered who else he might have indiscreetly told her news to.

  Taxis and cars were pulling up and Judy came forward with her team of staff to greet the guests and guide them through to the marquee.

  Jo and Hattie wandered past reception where Sally, pretty in her prom dress, sat behind the desk and manned the phone. She smiled as she saw them. Hattie leaned over and pulled out a glass of Cointreau from under the counter. She handed it to Jo.

  “You’re usual bracer Madam.”

  “Thanks Hattie.” Jo let out a deep breath. “I need this.” She tossed the liquid back and shuddered. “Right, let’s get going!”

  * * *

  The marquee looked magnificent. The red carpeted tunnel was lined with little silver lights and opened up to a stunningly decorated room.

  The roof was lined in black and fairy lights twinkled like stars. Pillars were covered with winter garlands tied up with tartan bows, and colourful festive swags draped in huge loops were hung around the sides of the room. The tables were set with white linen and crystal with tall arrangements of poinsettias and candles in the centre. Red chair covers trimmed with tartan ribbon, draped to the floor. Guests mingled in the centre of the room as staff circulated with champagne cocktails and canapés. Piped music played softly in the background.

  Hattie shot off to supervise the bar, where several men had gathered and were ordering pints of beer.

  Jo moved around the room and greeted her guests. The seating plan seemed to be working and slowly but surely everyone was settled at their tables. Pete Parks crept up behind her and gave her bottom a squeeze.

  “You’re lookin’ bonny.” He breathed onto her neck. Jo wanted to step back and impale him to the floor with her heel, but she turned and smiled sweetly. He needn’t think he could pull in any sexual favours in return for the booking. Mrs Parks, head to toe in acres of creased taffeta, waved to her.

  “I hope everything’s alright for your party?” Jo said and waved back.

  “Aye, all set for a good night. The place looks grand.” Pete touched her arm and whispered “I hear you’re leaving, it’s not true surely?”

  Before Jo had time to reply, Pete’s wife summoned him. With a formal nod to Jo, he moved away to join her.

  The room filled up and there was an excited buzz of laughter and expectation as everyone took their seats and began to pull the crackers that rested beside their place settings. With party hats at jaunty angles, key rings, whistles and corny jokes were exchanged. It was nearly eight o’clock.

  Jinny and Billy Atkinson’s party were all seated but their hosts were no where to be seen. Jo paced nervously down the hall to see if the Atkinson’s needed anything. The door to the Green Room was closed and Jo could hear raised voices. Billy was shouting.

  “How much!” He yelled. “You stupid, stupid bitch!”

  Jo reeled back, Billy sounded absolutely furious! Jinny was mumbling and Jo couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she sounded as though she was crying. Jo decided not to intervene and headed back to the party.

  As Jo entered the marquee, Judy took her place in line with the staff and indicated that they were ready. Jo swept across the floor and nervously walked up the steps to the stage. The Cumberland Quartet were checking their equipment and tuning up. Jeans and trainers abandoned, the band looked classy in smart dinner jackets, drainpipe trousers and shoe string ties. More like the high school hop… Jo thought as they welcomed her onto the stage and handed her the microphone.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen.” She began. The audience shushed each other and someone rattled a spoon against a glass.

  “Thank you.” Jo smiled. “I’d like to say a very good evening to you all and thank you for joining us here tonight, to celebrate the start of the New Year.”

  She looked around the room. Annie Cannon sipped an orange juice, whilst Dougie drained his pint glass and indicated to Arthur tha
t he was ready for a refill. Sandra’s mother sipped gin and bitter lemon and smiled up at Jo.

  “It is absolutely wonderful to see so many familiar faces and I’m sure that we’re going to have a great night.”

  Peter Gavmin banged the table with his empty scotch glass and cried out “Hear Hear!”

  “We’ve got a delicious meal for you to enjoy and Sandra and her team will start to serve shortly.” Jo glanced around the room. She saw Greg and Estelle sitting with a party from the Butterly Arms Hotel. Greg lifted his glass and waved. Did Greg have a pony tail? Hattie stood behind the bar, she followed Jo’s gaze and mouthed the word “Wanker.”

  Jo quickly composed herself and continued. “After dinner we’d like you to enjoy yourself and dance the night away to the fabulous Cumberland Quartet.” She introduced the band and they all took a bow as the guests whooped and cheered. “We have a great raffle tonight and all proceeds will go to the Marland Dogs Home.” Alf raised his glass. “Many of you know that our local gamekeeper is patron of the charity, so please dig deep. There are some super prizes.”

  “Any tomato puree?” Paulie squealed from across the room. Robbie smiled charmingly at their smart London guests.

  “Then of course, just before midnight we’ll join with the band and countdown to the New Year.” Everyone cheered. “So please enjoy yourselves and have a wonderful evening.”

  Jo stepped down from the stage.

  “Well done.” Hattie said and handed Jo a Cointreau.

  Staff glided around the room in a well executed service and Sandra and Gerald, in starched whites and tall chef’s hats took their places behind the buffet. Platters of sliced meats were pile high and they began to carve more from huge joints of meat.

  Jinny and Billy Atkinson finally joined their party. Jinny moved elegantly across the floor and Jo looked at her in wonder. No one would know that a few moments ago she had been bawling her eyes out! Jinny wore a black sequinned, ankle length dress with long sleeves, cut low at the back. Diamond clusters twinkled on her ears as she made her entrance.