“Not a patch on you.” Hattie whispered. She pulled on a beer tap and poured a pint of ale for Maurice, who thanked her and handed over a ten pound note.
“Take one for yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Hattie grinned back.
With the main courses out of the way, the staff tidied the tables. Judy synchronised the team and desserts went out. Christmas Pudding with fudge and brandy sauce, Lemon Panna Cotta and Westmarland Cheeses.
Jo stood in the catering marquee surveying the activity and felt proud of her staff. Sandra, Gerald and Miriam hovered, checking plates as they left their kitchen. Jo wanted to hug them all, who would have thought that their modest little team could pull this off! Sandra gave Jo a thumbs-up. Coffee followed and the tables were cleared of any debris.
The band took to the stage again and announced that dancing was about to begin, there was a loud cheer and people took their partners for the first dance. Jo slipped away. She needed to check her make up and decided to use the ladies room in the hallway. As she went to push the door open she heard female voices. She paused.
“Did you see her face?” A woman giggled.
“Aye covered in slap but you could see she’d been crying.”
“Billy’s gone ballistic, threatened to divorce her!” They both gasped. “Once a gambler always a gambler.”
“But I’ve heard she’s no more funds coming in.”
Jo could hear the women spraying perfume from the complimentary bottles.
“Some gypo’s been bailing her out. She told him she was buying horses with Billy’s approval, but the pikey’s found out that she’s been gambling it away and has called in the loan…”
The words trailed away but their impact hit Jo like a blow and she staggered back. She groped her way into reception.
“You alright Mrs E?” Sally stood up and motioned for Jo to sit down.
“I’ll be fine Sally.” Jo fell into the chair and stared at the desk as the words sank in. He’s been lending her money! Jo couldn’t believe it! Minutes ticked by. The door opened and a glass of Cointreau appeared.
“I heard you needed this.” Hattie said. Jo looked up gratefully.
“You’ll never believe what I’ve just heard.” Jo repeated the conversation.
“Friggin hell.” Hattie chuckled. “And all the time you thought he was bonkin’ her! It seems our Jinny’s been leading everyone a merry dance.” They both shook their heads.
“It doesn’t change anything Hattie. He doesn’t want me.” Jo finished the Cointreau. “He’ll be married by now, making things right with his parents.”
“He probably will.” Hattie sighed and picked up the empty glass. “Come on, get back to your party, it’s going brilliantly out there and there’s a tale Old Johnny’s telling that I think you should hear.”
The marquee was in full swing and the Cumbrian Quartet in their stride, as they belted out boogie tunes to a packed dance floor. Estelle danced with the landlord of the Butterly Arms Hotel and as she strutted her stuff she seemed to be having a wonderful time.
“Her Mantilla runneth over.” Hattie said as they watched Estelle jive and spin around the floor. Her long legs kicked out and her thick glossy hair, tumbled from the decorative combs.
Greg leaned against a pillar and flirted with Christine Harrison from the Lemon Tree Café.
“That’s Arthur’s niece” Hattie explained. “She’s a right little raver by all accounts.”
Greg looked up and saw Jo watching him. He abandoned Christine and hurried to Jo’s side.
“I’ll get back to the bar” Hattie said. “That a dead rat on your neck Greg?”
Greg glared at her but composed himself and turned his charm on Jo.
“You look absolutely amazing.” He stroked her arm. “That’s a lovely necklace.” Greg didn’t remember it and frowned. Jo touched the diamond. She couldn’t believe that she’d briefly considered taking Greg back a few weeks ago, but she supposed she ought to be nice to him, it was Christmas.
“Thomas enjoys his time with you. You’ve been very good with him.”
“I love that little fella.” Greg looked misty eyed. Jo hoped he wasn’t going to cry. Greg took a deep breath. It was now or never.
“Just knowing that it’s only a matter of time before we’re all a proper family, keeps me going.”
Jo thought she’d misheard as he went on.
“I know you’ve been going through some difficult times emotionally and financially and… I’ve decided to help you.” Greg leaned in so that Jo could hear him over the music.
“What are you saying Greg?” Jo was confused.
“I’ve still got plenty of money and I’ll put it in the business when we get back together. With winter set in, I suggest that happens soon.”
He stood back, reached for her hand and gave his most engaging smile. Jo could see Christine hovering in the background.
“I think we should get back together again, I’m ready to move in with you and our son – I know that’s what you want.” Greg laced his fingers through Jo’s and pulled her to him.
Jo was horrified. The scene in the Red Rooster Café flashed through her mind. Surely he hadn’t forgotten what she’d said to him? She hadn’t changed her mind! Jo removed her hand and gently pushed Greg away.
Its Christmas Be Nice… “I’m very flattered Greg, and it is very sweet of you, but getting together again is not an option.” She stood firm.
Greg looked shocked. Surely she didn’t mean it?
“You’re a great Dad and you can see Thomas whenever you want, but not as a family with me, that’s not going to happen.” Jo began to move away and Greg looked like he was about to burst into tears.
“What about that drink you promised me?” Christine tugged on his arm.
Jo made her exit.
“Marvelous party Darling!” Dorothy Osbourne sashayed past.
Her partner was immaculately dressed in a pin striped suit and spats and she guided Dorothy in a waltz around the room. Jo was gobsmacked.
“Love the garlands! I’ve got those at home!” Dorothy pointed to the bar where a crumpled Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs hung over the optics. Hattie grinned and gave a wave.
Wine flowed as the staff began a table service for drinks. Jo noted that lots of champagne had been ordered for midnight, she hoped that she’d ordered enough and went to check on stocks in the cellar. As she passed through the conservatory she saw Old Johnny and his wife sitting quietly in the corner. He raised his pipe and beckoned her over.
“I want to ask thee a question.”
Jo gathered her skirt and squeezed into a cane chair.
“Have you felt ‘owt strange in ‘ere?” Old Johnny asked.
“Yes I have.” Jo looked at the doorway. “There’s an icy chill sometimes by the door and I feel terrified when I stand next to it. Even Pippa cowers away.”
“Well we can explain that to thee…” Johnny lit a fresh pipe and nodded to his wife, who started to explain his tale…
“In 1730 the family who owned Kirkton House, bought a slave named Abraham to the property.” She began. “They were prosperous from the slave trade in Whitehaven and a sugar cane plantation in Jamaica and thought it would be a novelty to have a slave to work for them in Westmarland. So, Abraham was set to work on the large garden.”
Old Johnny puffed on his pipe and nodded his head. His wife continued.
“Abraham liked to dance and was badly homesick. In his home village in Africa, he danced all the time and he took to dancing round the garden here, to remind himself of home. Most of the time he forgot to do his jobs.”
Old Johnny shook his head.
“The family became impatient and forbade him to dance again - he was here to work! But without his dancing Abraham became more and more depressed. He told the cook that he’d put an African curse on the house and his masters and he’d forever haunt the place.”
She stopped and looked at the doorway. Jo fe
lt herself grow cold.
“Early one morning he tied a rope over the lintel in that doorway and in despair, hung himself.”
Old Johnny shook his head and Jo shivered.
“His masters felt so guilty about his death that they decided to lay him to rest in the garden, and folklore says he’s buried under the croquet lawn.”
Jo rubbed her arms, she was freezing. “But what was the curse?” She asked.
Old Johnny’s wife smiled and continued.
“He told the cook that only a thousand dancing footsteps on his grave would let his soul rest.”
Old Johnny knocked his pipe on the ashtray as Jo let his words sink in. They could hear the music from the marquee and the sound of people dancing. The room began to feel warm and Jo threw her head back and laughed. Old Johnny and his wife joined in with her.
“I think we should drink to Abraham.” She signalled to Simon who was passing with a tray of champagne. Jo took three glasses.
“To Abraham.” She toasted. “May your dancing soul finally find peace.”
They chinked their glasses and looked out to the marquee where three hundred folk danced ecstatically round the floor.
“To Abraham!”
* * *
Midnight approached. Jo stood by the entrance and watched Mrs Brough and Ivan do the jitterbug, her blue perm bobbed up and down as they bounced around.
Jo waived Hattie over and she hurried from behind the bar to join Jo.
“The jungle drums are beating.” Hattie whispered.
“Please don’t use that expression.” Jo thought of poor Abraham.
“Alright then Chinese whispers!” Hattie snapped.
“We had enough of those a couple of months ago…”
“Folk think you’re leaving.” Hattie was serious. “They’re expecting an announcement at midnight. You’ll have to tell them Jo and now’s the perfect time.”
Hattie was right. It was wrong of Jo to wait, she felt like she was deceiving everyone. At least she could assure the staff of their jobs with the new owners and that the place would continue as a hotel. It was a beginning not an ending! She’d explain it that way. She braced herself.
“Need a Cointreau?”
“Nope. I need a clear head.” Jo took a deep breath.
“Good Luck.” Hattie called after her and watched Jo walk across the dance floor. Hattie looked at the clock - ten to twelve.
The room began to fall silent as the guests watched Jo walk up the steps and stride across the stage. The music came to a discreet end and Jo reached for the microphone.
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” She began nervously. “It’s nearly midnight and I hope you’re all having a wonderful evening.” She looked around. “I know that I am.” The room was quiet. A pot crashed in the kitchen and Sandra could be heard yelling at the staff to be quiet.
“This last year has been a real merry-go-round for me.” Jo felt their eyes bore into her as they hung off her every word. Peter Gavmin smiled with anticipation.
“We began with the enormous task of putting this lovely old place back together…”
Jo paused and looked around. Pete Parks winked at her. Paulie and Robbie stood arm in arm shaking their heads sadly. Judy and Alf held hands.
“You all helped me so much. You pulled out all the stops and made sure that we’d open on time.” She felt a choke in her voice. Sandra wrung a tea towel in white knuckled hands and Arthur and put his arm round her shoulder.
“And when we did open our doors, you supported me. You came and dined and bought all your friends and recommended us all over the county.”
Hattie wiped her eyes with a hanky.
“The autumn was tough...”
Mr Knight took a swig of his drink.
“I had a bit of a panic, and we were very saddened by the loss of a dear friend.” The twins put their arms round Hattie.
Jo took a deep breath. She had to tell them.
“And I know that there’s been a lot of speculation in the last week or so about my future here...”
She put her shoulders back and stared at the faces before her. They waited patiently for confirmation of her news. Jo looked round the room and felt an overpowering wave of kindness, these people weren’t just customers and employees - they were her friends!
She gripped the microphone and looked at the clock, it was almost midnight.
“And I’ve come to a decision...”
Everyone was silent as they waited for her news. Robert hung his head, he couldn’t look at Jo.
“I’ve no intention of moving anywhere!” She announced suddenly. “Kirkton House is my home and you all feel like family to me, so here’s to 1988 and another great year!”
A huge cheer broke out as the news sank in!
Peter Gavmin groaned and made his way to the bar. Jo handed the microphone to the band leader and he began the countdown to the New Year.
“Ten, nine, eight!” Everyone joined in. “Three, two, one!”
The cheer raised the roof of the marquee as balloons fell and poppers exploded and everyone kissed and hugged each other. The band began to play and as Jo left the stage she was pulled into the middle of the floor. Someone shouted out:
“Three Cheers for Jo! Hip hip hurrah!”
Everyone joined in and followed it up with ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.’
Across the room, Maurice asked Hattie to dance.
The party continued and Jo managed to make her escape as a conga began, led by a very squiffy Vera, supported by her husband Victor.
Jo went through to reception where Judy and Sally sorted out bills and counted money. Judy packed a pile of notes it into a metal box and locked it in the safe.
“It’s a great party Mrs E.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you all, you’ve been brilliant.” Jo said.
“We’re so relieved that you’re not going.” Judy looked tearful. “It would never have been the same without you.”
Jo waved her hand in dismissal.
“Have you heard that Arthur has proposed?” Judy clapped her hands together. “And Sandra’s said yes!”
“Oh how marvellous! A joint wedding then?” Jo grinned at Judy.
“Hattie looks like she’s copped off too.” Sally said.
“He’s very fit and owns a flooring business.” Judy beamed.
The girls discussed Maurice’s merits as they filed the bills.
“Did you know that Estelle is moving in with landlord of the Butterly Arms?” Judy watched for Jo’s reaction.
Jo’s eyes widened as she digested all this information. The night was full of surprises! To think that she’d started the year longing for Greg to come back…
She suddenly felt exhausted and in need of a few quiet moments. She left the girls to it and wandered down the hallway.
* * *
Jo stood at the door of the hotel and gazed out at the inky, snow laden sky. In the distance, the band struck up Auld Lang Syn and she imagined the revellers joining hands as they sung their hearts out and promised eternal friendship tonight and evermore.
The beginning of 1987 had been life-changing for Jo and now, as it rolled over into 1988, she’d made another monumental decision.
It was freezing. She should have put a jacket over her gown but Jo was unaware of the cold as she watched the snow begin to fall. She wondered where her gypsy was – what night sky would he be watching?
The snow came down in a sudden flurry. Jo held her face up to the heavens and closed her eyes and as the giant flakes caressed her skin.
The temperature had dropped and Jo felt the bitter cold. She stirred herself and noticed that the Christmas tree by the door bowed; its branches heavy and as Jo looked at the top of the tree, she saw a full breasted plastic fairy lean to one side, her open mouth full of snow. Good old Hattie!
A car approached in the distance. Jo saw dimmed headlights as the car made its way slowly through the oncoming blizzard. Who could it be? She r
ubbed her hands up and down her arms to try and get warm. The snow was ruining the velvet of her bodice and the feather trim was damp.
The engine stopped and the headlights went out. Who on earth was travelling in this weather? Perhaps they needed a room? You couldn’t get near the hotel for cars parked along the verges but the snowy Kirkton House Hotel sign still glowed under the yellow lamp.
Jo peered into the darkness but snow blurred her vision. No one was there. She shivered and decided to go back in, her dress would be ruined. As she turned, a figure, huddled into an overcoat, appeared at the gate.
“Are you alright?” She called out.
A man came into view, his head was down as he entered the driveway and Jo tried to make out a face. Perhaps he needed the breakdown service?
“Do you need any help?”
The figure got closer. Something was familiar and Jo strained to see who it was. She caught her breath, was she dreaming… Could it be?
John came towards her.
“Jo! Whatever are you doing out here?”
He tried to run across the icy drive and stumbled. Jo raced forward and tripped too, she fell into his arms. John’s blue eyes gazed lovingly at her as Jo melted into his embrace. He wrenched at the buttons of his coat to wrap the warm cashmere tightly round her trembling body.
“You’re frozen.” He whispered. “Get inside.”
He took her hand and they fell into the porch.
“What are you doing here?” Jo hardly dared ask.
“Shh…” John put his finger on her lips. He dug into his pocket and reaching for her left hand, gently pushed a diamond ring onto her finger.
“Jo will you marry me?”
Jo gasped. It matched the necklace perfectly.
“But what about your family?”
“They’ll get over it.” John was serious.
“But what about Romany tradition and never marrying out?”
Coffee, Tea, The Gypsy & Me... Page 32
