by Maureen Lee
Annie felt as if she could cry. No-one had ever paid her such a lovely compliment before. 'I'd like it very much,' she whispered.
'In fifty years' time,' Sylvia said sagely, 'you will see this little orchid in your jewellery box, tarnished, faded and old, and will always be reminded of Sylvia Delgado and the day she bought it for you.'
'That's a very profound remark from such a young
ady!' the elderly assistant said, wrapping the orchid in issue paper and tucking it inside a cardboard box.
'Thank you,' Sylvia said demurely.
Annie noticed one of the pendants was shaped like a ose. She'd never bought a present for her mam before, t seemed a waste of time. 'I'll have a pendant, too,' she aid impulsively. A rose for a Rose!
Later, when they were having their lunch in Owen Dwen's restaurant - special Christmas fayre, roast :hicken and plum pudding - Annie said, 'Why didn't ^ou go to a private school, seeing as you're so well off?'
Sylvia made a face. 'Because Bruno doesn't believe in )rivate education. He considers it a basic right which hould be the same for everyone, rich and poor alike, vio-one should be allowed to pay for better teachers, )etter schools. He's the same with most things. When Hecy had me, he insisted she use the local hospital, vhere they left her in labour for days because they were ;o backward. Then she was stuck in a ward with peasant women who hated her. That's why I am a lone :hild. She had such a terrible time, she swore she'd lever have more children.'
'Bruno'd get on with me Auntie Dot and Uncle Bert, rhey're in the Labour Party.' Bert was chairman of the ocal branch.
'I doubt it,' Sylvia said darkly. 'He hates socialists ilmost as much as he hates fascists. Don't ask me *vhy, it's something to do with state ownership and 3anks and shares and capitalism.' She glanced at her Tiinute gold watch. 'We have half an hour before the film starts. Just time enough for you to show me St George's Hall.'
Annie gaped. 'What on earth do you want to see that for?'
'Bruno said it's one of the most beautiful buildings in Europe.'
'Is it really?' Annie had never noticed anything remarkable about it, 'I haven't bought you a present yet!' She'd got dad a tie, earrings for Marie, a box of handkerchiefs for Dot and tobacco for Uncle Bert. 'I told you, I'd like those red gloves.' Annie screwed up her nose. 'But they'll wear out.' 'What else do you expect gloves to do?' 'It means one day you'll throw them away. I'd like to get you something permanent, like my pendant.'
'Maybe we'll see something on the way to St George's Hall.'
But by the time the curtains closed on Three Coins in a Fountain^ and Frank Sinatra crooned the last notes of the haunting theme song, Annie still hadn't bought Sylvia a present.
Sylvia was in tears. The picture had made her feel homesick. 'The music is so beautiful,' she sniffed. 'I could listen to it for ever.'
Annie had a brainwave. 'I'll buy you the record for Christmas! In fifty years' time, when I look in my jewellery box and think of you, you can play Three Coins in a Fountain, and think of me!'
It was an anti-climax after the glorious day to walk into the house in Orlando Street: like entering a tomb, Annie thought miserably. The television was on without the sound and Dad looked up, but didn't utter a word of greeting. Mam's face was turned away. Annie wondered if they spoke to each other when they were alone.
Marie was out, as usual. Annie could go out later if she wished. She'd been invited to a party, but as Ruby Livesey would almost certainly be there, she decided to stay in and watch television.
She went upstairs to unpack the presents. She still had Sylvia's record, and had been invited to the Grand on
hristmas Eve to get her pendant. She opened the box Dntaining Mam's rose and touched the little petals ith her finger. Downstairs, her father's footsteps )unded in the hall and the door slammed. He must be Ding to the corner shop.
Annie was never quite sure afterwards what rompted her to do what she did. In fact she could ^member nothing between Dad slamming the door and nding herself standing in front of her mother, gazing own and marvelling at her girlish face. How incredibly retty she was! She hadn't aged a bit, not like Dad. In ict, she looked much younger than Cecy, who, :;cording to Sylvia, spent a small fortune on creams to eep the wrinkles at bay. Annie noticed the almost tiildish curve of her chin, the way her long dusky lashes ;sted on her smooth cheeks. It was such a shame, she lought sadly, such a waste.
'Mam,' she said loudly. 'I've got you a present.'
Mam didn't stir. It was as if Annie had never spoken.
'I've got you a present, Mam,' she said again, even )uder, but still there was no reaction. She leant down nd twisted the frozen face towards her. 'I've got you a resent. It cost nine and elevenpence and you've got to ike it off me,' she shouted.
Annie fell to her knees until the face was level with er own. It was of tremendous importance that she lake her mother hear. 'Look, Mam, it's a pendant, a Dse.' She took the pendant out of its box and dangled it y the chain. 'A rose for a Rose. I bought it specially ecause it's so pretty. Please, Mam, please take my resent.'
Mam opened her eyes and looked directly at her aughter, and Annie stared deep into the pools of grey, eeing little shreds of silver and gold that she'd never nown were there. Mam gave an almost audible gasp, s if she'd never seen Annie before.
'Let me put it on for you, Mam.' Annie's hands trembled as she reached behind and fastened the clasp. Mam's hands went up to her throat and she began to finger the little pink rose.
'There!' Annie said with satisfaction. 'It looks dead nice.'
'Thank you,' Mam whispered.
Annie felt the urge to weep. She stayed at her mother's feet and laid her head on her lap. Slowly, surreptitiously, she slid her arms around the slim legs until she was hugging them tightly.
They stayed that way for a long time. Then Annie felt her body tingle as there was a soft, almost imperceptible movement, and Mam was gently stroking her head.
'Oh, Mam!' she whispered.
There came the sound of Dad's key in the door, and the hand was abruptly removed. When Annie looked up, her mother's head was turned away and her eyes were closed.
She scrambled to her feet, heart thudding, and was in the kitchen by the time Dad came in. What did it mean? Had it been a charade all these years, a sham, as Dot suspected? Why did Mam stop when she'd heard the key?
Annie let the clothes rack down and began to feel the washing, removing the items that were dry, spreading the still damp clothes out so they'd be ready for ironing by tomorrow. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the rack up and wound the rope around the hook in the wall.
Could it be that Mam really was so full of a mixture of hate and love that she'd deliberately shut herself off from the world just to punish Dad? Or maybe it was herself she was punishing for leaving Johnny alone. Either way it wasn't fair, Annie thought bitterly.
In the end, she decided she'd probably imagined the whole thing. Mam hadn't been stroking her head, not really. It had merely been an involuntary action and she didn't know what she was doing.
Any other explanation didn't bear thinking about.
On Christmas Eve, Annie set off with Sylvia's record tucked under her arm and permission from Dad to stay out late - not that Marie, who came home at all hours, ever asked. After the Grand had closed they were all going to Midnight Mass, even Bruno, who, said Sylvia, had promised not to sneer. He'd offered to bring Annie home by car. Annie had been looking forward to the evening ever since Sylvia had suggested it.
'If you've nothing else to do on Christmas Eve, why don't you come and have supper? We could play records and talk.'
Supper! Annie hadn't realised you could ask someone to supper, and they were going to have a glass of wine with the meal!
Although it was only half seven, through the window she could see the Grand was already packed with customers. Every table was occupied and there were crowds massed around the bar. The noise was deafening.
She went round the side and ran
g the bell, and had to ring a second time before Sylvia answered. To Annie's surprise, she wore a plain black dress and a white apron. The scratch on her cheek had faded to pink.
'Oh, Annie!' she cried dramatically. 'How I wish you were on the telephone and I could have prevented you from coming!'
Annie's heart sank. 'What's wrong?' she asked, hoping her awful disappointment didn't show on her face.
'Two of the waitresses haven't turned up.' She dragged Annie into the lobby. 'We are all at sevens and eights at the moment.'
'Sixes and sevens.' Annie made an attempt at a smile.
'There's a dinner for thirty in the Regency Room and a party in the Snug. I'm so sorry, Annie, I was really looking forward to tonight, but I can't desert Cecy when she only has one helper.'
'I'll help,' offered Annie, praying the offer would be accepted. She would do anything rather than return to Orlando Street.
'Sylvia!' Cecy shouted impatiently. 'The soup's waiting.'
'Coming!' Sylvia shouted back. She turned to Annie, looking sceptical. 'Another pair of hands would be more than welcome, but it's not a very exciting way to spend Christmas Eve.'
'I don't mind a bit what I do.'
Sylvia still looked sceptical. 'Are you sure?'
Annie nodded with all the enthusiasm she could muster. 'Positive!'
'In that case, hang your coat up and come into the kitchen.'
'Sylvia! ' Cecy screamed.
The kitchen was a long room at the back which ran the entire width of the hotel. Several pans, lids rattling, steamed on the eight-ringed stove. Wearing a white overall, a red and perspiring Cecy was carving a massive turkey. A middle-aged woman dressed like Sylvia was just leaving with a tray laden somewhat precariously with bowls of soup.
'Annie's come to help,' said Sylvia.
'Take those sandwiches to the Snug,' Cecy snapped.
'I'll show you.' Sylvia picked up a tray of soup. As they went upstairs, she said, 'My grandparents are asleep in all this chaos. Their plane was held up, the train was late and they're exhausted. That's the Snug.' She nodded towards a door on the left.
Annie knocked. There was a buzz of voices inside,
It no-one answered, so she cautiously opened the door
d went in. The room was thick with smoke. A dozen
ople in armchairs seemed to be engaged in a furious
gument with everyone else. A dozen hands reached
r the sandwiches and she found herself holding a
agically empty plate.
A voice called, 'I say, miss, we'd like another round
drinks.' The man turned to the others. 'What are you
ving?'
'I'll have a beer.'
'Me, too.'
'Whisky and ginger for me.'
The orders came thick and fast and Annie did her best
memorise them; four beers, three ciders, a whisky id ginger, two gin and tonics, a Pimms No i, an ange cordial. Repeating the order under her breath, she raced back
the kitchen. 'Four beers, three ciders . . .' She arched wildly for paper and pencil and wrote it all )wn with a sigh of relief.
'Whew!' She mopped her brow. 'The people in the lug want these,' she said, handing the list to Cecy. 'Take it to the master in the bar,' Cecy said cuttingly, ay it's for his bloody Marxist friends. Once you've )ne that, there's sausage rolls to take up. I daren't give em all the food at once, else they'd eat the lot and still k for more.'
After trying several cupboards and a lavatory, Annie lund the door to the bar. It was like walking into a all of noise. She gave the order to a tall, incredibly indsome man with smooth jet-black hair and the face ■ a Greek god, whom she assumed was Bruno. 'It's for the people in the Snug,' she yelled. 'Who are you and why aren't you in uniform.^' His ancing brown eyes belied the apparent curtness of the iiestion.
'I'm Annie, Sylvia's friend,' Annie explained. 'I've got to rush, I've something else to do.'
She had 'something else to do' for the next three hours. It wasn't how she'd expected to spend Christmas Eve, but she enjoyed herself immensely. She made more sandwiches when the bloody Marxists declared themselves on the verge of starvation, and helped wash and dry the dishes when they appeared out of the Regency Room in great numbers, thirty of everything.
It was almost half ten by the time Cecy sank into a chair, crying. 'Why did I let Bruno buy this place? I've never worked so hard in my life.' Her eyes lighted on Annie. 'What are you doing here.-*'
'Who do you think looked after the bloody Marxists?' Sylvia laughed.
'Was that you, Annie, dear? I was too busy to notice.'
'Is it all right if I go now, Mrs Delgado?' The other waitress had removed her shoes and was wearily massaging her feet.
'Of course, Mrs Parsons. Would you like a lift home?' Cecy was gradually becoming her normal charming self.
'No, ta. It's only round the corner.'
'Now, what do I owe you? The master insists I pay double for anti-social hours, so five pounds should do nicely. Is there much in tips?'
'There's a pile of silver from the Regency Room.' Sylvia pointed to the plate of coins on the table. 'You take it, Mrs Parsons.'
'Oh, I couldn't, miss. You did half the work.' The waitress eyed the money longingly.
At Sylvia's insistence, Mrs Parsons emptied the coins into her bag. 'Happy Christmas!' she cried happily as she left.
'The bloody Marxists didn't leave a penny,' Sylvia
)rted. 'I bet they'd say the workers should be better d and not rely on tips.'
They're just too mean to put their hands in their :kets.' Cecy looked disgusted. 'Annie! I seem to recall ed-haired young person dashing in and out all night j washing loads of dishes. I insist on paying for your rd work. You weren't here as long as Mrs Parsons, t you didn't get a single tip.' She handed Annie a five und note.
But I didn't expect to be paid,' Annie said faintly. It would have cost twice that if the other waitresses d turned up.' Cecy adamantly refused to take the »ney back.
Ta very much,' gulped Annie. Five pounds! 5runo appeared at the door. 'How did things go, rling?'
Don't darling me,' Cecy snapped. 'We've been •rked off our feet whilst you've been in your element lind the bar.'
Bruno laughed and blew a kiss. Despite Cecy's cross •rds, she smiled and blew one back. Annie sighed, :ause it seemed terribly romantic. They obviously ed each other very much.
I suppose I'd better wake the old folks ready for iss,' Cecy said wearily, 'but how anybody can sleep this din is beyond me. As for you pair, help Lirselves to food. There's wine opened in the fridge.' iylvia piled sausage rolls and mince pies onto a plate. 3me on, Annie. I'm dying to hear my record.' Halfway upstairs, she paused. 'You can see every-ng going on from here. It's how Bruno keeps an eye the bar when he's not there.'
/Vnnie hadn't noticed the little oblong window in the .11 before. The girls sat on the stairs and peered ough. The bar was more crowded than ever and 3ple were still coming in. A few customers were
singing drunkenly and there was the sound of breaking glass.
'Normally, we'd be closed by now,' Sylvia explained, 'but there's an extension because it's Christmas Eve. It's not usually so crowded, either. Scarcely any of these are regulars and one or two are getting out of hand. Bruno will throw them out if they continue. He's very particular who he allows in his pub.' She pointed. 'See that lot over there! They look awfully common and are very much the worse for wear.'
Annie followed her gaze. Half a dozen men and two young women were at a table in the centre of the room. As she watched, one man knocked a glass onto the floor with his elbow, but was too engrossed in the woman next to him to notice. The woman said something and the man grinned and kissed her full on the lips.
Oh, Jaysus! Annie felt her blood run cold. The young woman was Marie! She wore a tight-fitting black jumper, emphasising her budding breasts. Annie gasped as the man on her other side angrily pushed the first away, and it looked as if there coul
d actually be a fight, Marie appeared quite unconcerned. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and threw back her head, laughing uproariously, as the second man dragged her into his arms. The first got up and made his unsteady way towards the Gents.
'Is something the matter?' Sylvia asked.
Annie nodded numbly. 'The girl in the black jumper is me sister!'
Sylvia frowned. 'But you said your sister is at Grenville Lucas and she's younger than you!'
'That's her. That's our Marie. She's only thirteen.'
'But she looks years older,' Sylvia gasped. 'Shall I tell Bruno? He'll throw them out immediately. He's strict about that sort of thing.'
['d sooner you didn't.' Annie felt unable to watch )ther minute. What on earth was she going to do )ut Marie?
Come on, Annie,' Sylvia said gently. 'I'll play my V record and you can tell me all about it.'
vas half one when Annie let herself in and she felt lost cheerful again. She'd told Sylvia everything, m living with Dot and moving to Orlando Street, to im stroking her head - or possibly stroking her head le other day. It was a relief to share her worries with neone else.
)he crept upstairs and felt in the dark for her night-:ss so as not to disturb her sister, but as her eyes got :d to the darkness, she realised Marie's bed was pty and her heart sank. Where was she? Despite being so tired after all her hard work, she ildn't sleep. She tossed and turned, thinking about • sister. They weren't 'boys' she'd been with, but >wn men. Did they know she was thirteen? eventually she began to doze, but was jerked awake a sharp noise. She sat up, trying to work out what the ise had been when it came again. Stones were being own at the window. Marie!
nnie got out of bed. Her sister was in the yard about throw another stone. She flew downstairs and let her 'Where the hell have you been?' she demanded. Out and about,' Marie said airily. 'Ta, sis. I forgot ; key and I didn't want to wake the old fool up.' 'He's not old, and he's not a fool,' Annie hissed when ly were in the bedroom. 'He's a poor helpless man ing to do his best for us.'
