A Winter Bride

by Isla Dewar

  ‘You could get Nell,’ said Johnny. ‘She could do it. She’s not the mouse she used to be. Not since Alistair got to work on her.’

  ‘But she knows nothing about food and wine,’ said May.

  Johnny shrugged. ‘So teach her. Once she knew nothing about pens and now she can shift about twenty a week. And that’s pens. I mean, who wants a pen? I’d have her in the showroom selling cars. But you can’t have a woman doing that. Cars are men’s business.’

  ‘Nell?’

  ‘Yes, Nell,’ said Johnny. He looked at his mother and repeated, ‘Nell,’ and drifted into his private thoughts. This always made him look sulky. May’s heart went out to him. His heart is broken, she thought.

  ‘Are you missing Carol and Katy?’ May asked suddenly.

  He waved the question away. ‘Nah. Well, I’m missing Katy.’ He hardly missed Carol at all. In fact, he was enjoying not having her around. He could come and go as he pleased. Now he was planning to sell the house they’d shared so he could buy a flat in town. He wanted a bachelor pad he could furnish with a huge leather sofa, a television, a hi-fi, a fridge and a bed – nothing more. He didn’t plan to cook. He’d eat out. He was looking forward to it.

  May watched him. She loved him when he looked the way he looked right now. People thought he was sulky, but that was just the way his face fell when he wasn’t using it. She thought life must be hard for him. Well, it was probably hard for all beautiful people. So much was expected of them, they never got the chance to be ordinary.

  May thought that while life must be hard for Johnny, it couldn’t be too hard for Alistair. He wasn’t beautiful. He’d gone his own way in life and had become a lawyer because he’d had no hindrances. He hadn’t had girls clustered round him. Nobody asked what he was thinking in the way they had of Johnny, who was so beautiful everyone thought he must have been thinking beautiful thoughts. In school reports teachers had called him lazy and sullen. Oh, how wrong they were, May thought. They hadn’t understood the trials those blessed with beauty suffer.

  There was no doubt in May’s mind that Johnny would need help. He’d left school with nothing. He hadn’t passed a single exam. He’d gone into his father’s business working in every department, learning the ropes. He’d been useless as a mechanic and Harry said he wasn’t much of a salesman. Of course he wasn’t. People would be too busy looking at him to listen to a word he said. How awful it must be to be so misunderstood.

  Harry was looking strained these days. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ he’d told her. May knew that when Harry said there was nothing to worry about, there was something to worry about.

  Face it, May told herself, she wasn’t doing this for the family. She was doing it for Johnny. And if Nell was what he wanted to front this place, then Nell he’d get.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A Meeter and Greeter

  For a moment, a flutter of dread ran through Nell. As her morning bus drew up at the stop a few yards from the pen shop, she thought she’d seen May standing in the doorway. Surely not, she thought. Not that she disliked May. She just didn’t want to talk to her at this time of day. A person needed to be properly awake to deal with the woman.

  And Nell was not fully awake. She’d been up late last night discussing men, love and relationships with Carol. It had started when Nell asked if Carol was any further towards finding somewhere to stay.

  Carol had shaken her head. Flats were pricey and she had no money. ‘Johnny’s refusing to give me anything. He says he doesn’t have to because I left him.’

  Nell had looked at Alistair, expecting him to say something about Carol’s legal rights and those of her daughter. Katy was also Johnny’s responsibility, after all.

  However, Alistair had only said that Carol was welcome to stay as long as she liked. ‘We enjoy having you around.’ Then he’d excused himself; he’d said he was tired after a hellish day and had a feeling the following day was going to be worse.

  After he’d gone, Carol had said, ‘He’s lovely. You’re so lucky.’

  Nell had agreed.

  ‘Isn’t it funny,’ Carol had said. ‘You’re the one who never reckoned on love. And you found it. I always wanted love and in the end I married Johnny for money and security, but mostly because I had to.’

  Nell had shrugged. ‘Life’s unpredictable.’

  ‘I still think that if you never find love then your life has been for nothing.’

  Nell had disagreed. ‘Lots of people have done wonderful things, lived marvellous lives without ever finding their true love, like Florence Nightingale and Mary Slessor.’ She had no idea if either of these women had ever been in love but reckoned Carol wouldn’t know either so her theory would go unchallenged. ‘And there are people who invented things and people who composed music and people who painted fantastic paintings. You can’t say these lives have been for nothing. It’s who you are and what you do that matters.’

  Perhaps, Carol had agreed. But she’d still thought love was all that mattered. She had gone on to extol Alistair’s virtues. What a wonderful husband he was. ‘He’ll vacuum the floor and he puts Katy to bed. Reads her a story. Johnny never did that.’ She’d spoken about how lonely she was, and how she doubted she’d ever find another man. ‘Who’d love me now? I’ve failed at marriage. I’ve got a child. I’m not a good prospect.’ On and on she’d gone. Life was hard. Men didn’t understand how it was to be a woman. And wasn’t Nell lucky to have such a beautiful flat. The fire had faded, and the room had turned cold. Nell had yawned. She’d ached to be in bed. It had been after one in the morning before she got there.

  Now she was sticky-eyed, grumpy and a little bit sweaty as she hadn’t had a bath.

  It had been three weeks since Carol had turned up at Nell and Alistair’s door and she had established her own routine. She took control of the bathroom every morning. Before bathing herself, she’d bathe Katy, hanging over the side of the bath, splashing the child and singing her favourite songs. At the moment ‘Nellie the Elephant’ was top choice.

  This was irritating. Worse though was the clutter of toys – a family of yellow plastic ducks, a wooden boat, a blue submarine and a large red ball – Nell had to remove every time she wanted to get into the bath. The clutter wasn’t restricted to the bathroom. It was everywhere, a spreading of clothes, gaudily coloured toys, baby lotions and potions, and Carol’s magazines, make-up and shoes that stretched from the front door to the kitchen. Every night when Nell arrived home, she walked the few yards down the hall to the living room bent double picking things up. There was more picking up and tidying to do in the living room, and then much sighing in the kitchen as she washed the dishes Carol had used during the day. All this and then Nell had to cook the supper.

  She was surprised that the clutter and the intrusion didn’t also annoy Alistair, but he seemed to be delighted by it. He’d step over any obstacles on the floor as he headed for Katy. He’d sweep her up, saying, ‘How’s my girl?’ He’d ask Carol what sort of day she’d had and listen with interest as she recounted her doings. Carol had a knack of making a day spent reading magazines, doing her hair, going to the park and chatting to the woman in the chemist’s shop about the benefits of teething gel sound fascinating. This intensified Nell’s annoyance and, as she peeled potatoes and grilled chops, she’d make faces and bob her head from side to side as she silently mimicked her friend.

  Going through all this as she walked from the bus stop to the shop door shoved the dreadful, fleeting sighting of May out of Nell’s mind. She jumped when the woman appeared at her side, gripped her arm and said, ‘I need a word.’

  It was May.

  ‘I don’t want to be late for work.’

  ‘You’ll just have to be late. This is important.’ May didn’t loosen her grip and led Nell away to a small café round the corner.

  They sat at a corner table. May ordered two cups of tea. ‘Never ask for coffee in a place like this. They don’t understand coffee. Tea they do.’ She too
k a hanky from her pocket and wiped the tabletop. ‘Filthy. Can’t be doing with germs. Now, you have to come and work for me.’

  Nell said she couldn’t. She already had a job she loved. ‘And, if I say so myself, I’m good at it.’

  ‘I know,’ said May, ‘that’s why I need you to work for me.’

  Nell looked at her watch and repeated that she was late for work.

  ‘I’m glad to see you take it so seriously,’ said May. ‘I like my workers to be punctual.’

  Nell said she didn’t want to be a waitress.

  ‘Did I not tell you what you’d be doing?’ asked May. ‘That’s not like me. You wouldn’t be a waitress. You’d be a meeter and greeter, front of house. You’d welcome people when they arrived, chat to them sort of thing, make them feel at home. Then you’d show them the menu and discuss the dishes and you’d talk them through the wine list.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about wine,’ said Nell.

  ‘You will when I’m done with you. You’ll wear smart clothes – a long black skirt and a white shirt. You’ll work from six-thirty to eleven every night, except Sunday obviously, and I’ll double your present pay.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts. You’re family and the family needs you. You can hand in your notice today and start with me a fortnight on Monday. And, of course, when I open up my next restaurant, Rutherford’s In The City, you’ll be manager. So I’m offering you more money and a chance of promotion. More than you’ll get in your present job.’

  ‘I like to be at home with Alistair in the evening,’ Nell said. ‘I like to spend time alone with him.’

  ‘You’ll not be alone with Carol there. Never did like that girl. She tricked my Johnny into marriage. How is she, by the way?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Nell.

  ‘And the little one?’

  ‘Fine, too. She’s getting big. Well, bigger.’

  ‘Good,’ said May. ‘Alistair can come eat at the restaurant any time he likes. We have a special family table set aside. You’ll see him then. Don’t invite Carol.’ She slapped the table and stood up. ‘Well, I’m glad that’s all settled.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘See you half-past six prompt a fortnight on Monday.’ She gathered her handbag, put the money for the tea neither of them had touched on the table and left.

  At six-thirty that evening Nell walked in through her front door. There was a new addition to the mess: a huge yellow plastic tortoise. She stepped over it and went into the living room. Carol was lying on the sofa. She put her finger to her lips, and then pointed to Katy fast asleep on top of her.

  ‘Bring me a cup of tea,’ said Carol. ‘I’m stuck here. Don’t want to wake the baby. She’s been howling all day.’

  Nell sighed, turned, headed for the kitchen, tripped over the giant tortoise, hit her head on a pile of building blocks, cracked her knee on the floor and yelled in agony. The child woke and howled. Carol shouted, ‘Can you not watch where you’re going?’

  Nell heaved herself from the floor and, clutching her wounded knee, hobbled to the kitchen. She sat at the table, one hand on the knee, the other on the rising bump on her head. Carol appeared at the door, carrying the child. ‘Don’t bother making tea. I’ll do it myself now.’

  ‘I think you should make an effort to clear the toys away. It’s dangerous leaving them lying around,’ said Nell.

  ‘Well, that tortoise is big enough. You should have seen it.’

  ‘Well, I did when I came in. I didn’t when I went out again. Where did you get it? It’s hideous.’

  ‘I saw it in a shop and I just knew Katy would love it. And she does. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘Where did you get the money? I thought you didn’t have any?’

  ‘Took it from that jug.’ Carol pointed to a blue jug on the dresser. ‘There’s usually a few pounds in there.’

  Nell said that the money in that jug was for the milkman and the paperboy. ‘We pay them on Saturday mornings.’

  ‘Well,’ said Carol. ‘You’ll just have to pay them with money from your purse. The jug’s empty now.’ She looked at Nell. ‘That’s quite a lump coming up on your forehead.’

  ‘I think it’s time you found a place of your own.’

  ‘Are you throwing me out?’

  ‘No. Not exactly. But sometimes me and Alistair like to be alone together.’

  ‘So you are asking me to leave? You’re putting me and my child on the streets? We have no place to go. We’ve no money. We’ll be wandering about in the cold and the rain, sleeping on park benches.’

  ‘Johnny should give you money. He should provide for you. Have you asked him?’

  ‘You know I have,’ said Carol, ‘but he’ll only give me enough to feed Katy. He says he owes me nothing since I left him. I told you that.’

  Actually, Johnny had told Carol she was welcome to stay at the house she used to live in with him. He’d said he planned to sell the place, but when he did that, he’d offered her half the profit so she’d be able to find somewhere comfortable for Katy. ‘Somewhere with a garden,’ he’d suggested. But Carol wasn’t going to tell Nell about this. She liked it here. She loved this flat. She enjoyed seeing Alistair play with her daughter.

  A stab of loathing for her friend sliced through Nell. She thought, it’s her or me. And since Carol had showed no interest in finding somewhere else to live, Nell decided: it’ll have to be me. She’d take the job May was offering – anything to get away from Carol.

  Later Nell realised working for May in the evenings would leave her at home all day with Carol. She decided to keep her day job. She’d be out of the house from half-past eight in the morning till after eleven at night. Tiring, but perfect.

  *

  A fortnight later, Nell started her evening job. May supplied her with her work outfit – a long black skirt, white shirt and black waistcoat – discussed the menu and showed her the big book: a leather-bound tome that was kept on the desk at the door for bookings. Nell leafed through it. ‘It’s empty. The pages are blank.’

  ‘For the moment,’ said May. ‘Once we take off, when word spreads, that book will be full. It’s only temporarily empty. When people arrive, you ask their name and check the book even though the pages are blank. It makes us look efficient.’

  It seemed to be remarkably easy. All she had to do was show diners to their tables, hand them a menu, chat about the dishes and ask if they’d like something to drink as their meal was being prepared. When the diners had finished eating, she’d prepare the bill in the beautiful handwriting she’d perfected during slow times at the pen shop and take it to them on a silver platter.

  The wine was tricky. The only thing she knew was that red was usually drunk with meat, white with fish. Usually when asked to recommend something, she’d excuse herself and go into the kitchen to ask for May’s advice. May would always tell her to pick something with a flashy label and display it with reverence to the customer. It usually worked.

  ‘Remember to sniff the cork when you’ve opened the bottle,’ May said.

  When Nell asked why, May said, ‘It lets the customer know you’re checking to see if the wine is corked.’

  ‘Corked?’ said Nell. ‘What’s corked?’

  May said she wasn’t sure, but that it had something to do with the cork not sealing the bottle properly and the wine being off.

  ‘How will I know?’ said Nell. ‘It all smells like wine to me.’

  ‘The cork smells of old underpants,’ said May. ‘Pour the wine anyway. If the customer notices bring them another bottle. If not, carry on. And—’ May waved a spatula as she spoke ‘—look superior and knowing so that when you give them a little smile to let them know they’ve made an excellent choice, they’ll feel smug. Even if they’ve made a terrible choice.’

  It was all a matter of looking serene, Nell told Alistair, who hadn’t been entirely happy when he’d heard that Nell had started working for his mother. ‘I walk about with my head u
p and smile and get paid for it.’

  At the end of her first week, May had given Nell a brown envelope containing her first week’s wages. It was several pounds short of the amount she’d been promised. When asked about it, May had explained that the shortfall was simply the money used to buy her work uniform. ‘I’ll see you all right next week.’

  Nell put her earnings into the running-away fund account. She told Alistair she was keeping this money separate from their joint account savings. ‘I’ll be able to dip into it now and then without touching our savings.’ She didn’t mention anything about not paying tax. She knew he wouldn’t approve.

  Nell was happy. She was back in the bosom of the Rutherford family. Harry would put his arm round her, and kiss her cheek every night when he arrived. Johnny grinned to her. May clapped her hands and told her she was doing a great job. And, every night, when she climbed into bed, Alistair was waiting for her. He’d put his arms round her, hold her and say, ‘At last, you’re home. Couldn’t sleep without you here beside me.’ Nell thought life couldn’t get better than this.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Singing Chef

  Life did get better. By January, Rutherford’s had become fashionable; it was the place to be seen. The pages in the big book were no longer blank. Every table was filled. Late in the evening, when May emerged from the kitchen, people would nudge one another and nod towards the piano, anticipating a little light entertainment.

  Nell realised that this was why people came. Word about the singing chef had spread and everyone wanted to say they’d been to Rutherford’s and had heard her.

  Perhaps she wasn’t so terrible after all. Or maybe it was her warmth and enthusiasm that enraptured people. After all, Nell thought, Marlene Dietrich can’t really sing, but her audiences love the way she performs a song. Nell decided May had charisma. That was what it was all about. May nodded to the piano player, cast her eyes round the room, taking everyone in, making them all feel she was their friend and she sang. It was simple. People loved her because she made them feel loved.