A Daughter's Choice (16 page)

‘No.' She smiled and said with an air of confidentiality, ‘I've come to offer my services.'

The woman drew back slightly. ‘I beg your pardon?'

‘I'm very experienced. I grew up in the business and can do a bit of everything. Wait at table – clean – handle Reception – balance the books – cook.'

‘You've come to the wrong place,' said the woman in a voice so frigid that Katherine almost winced. ‘Cuisine is our speciality heah! We are not looking for a Jill-of-all-trades, so if you could take yourself orf?'

She almost did but a man came through a doorway at that moment and smiled at her. ‘Who's this?' he asked.

‘No one for you to concern yourself with, Albert,' said the woman with a twitch of her majestic bosom. ‘If you could check today's newspapers are in a fit state in the lounge, I would appreciate it.'

The man, who was tall and gawky with a moustache and receding hair, continued to smile at Katherine. ‘Have I seen you before?'

‘Only if you've ever stayed at the Arcadia Hotel in Liverpool,' she said promptly, returning his smile.

‘I'd guessed the Liverpool,' said the woman, tut-tutting. ‘Southport is a very different kettle of fish, my girl. Now if you'd like to leave …'

‘I'm going,' said Katherine with a wry smile. ‘I can tell when I'm not wanted.'

‘Hang on there,' said Albert, resting an elbow on the desk and cocking one mobile eyebrow at the woman. ‘Maggie, old girl, haven't we anything?'

‘No, we have not,' she said crossly. ‘And for years I've been telling you that I hate being called Maggie!'

He turned to Katherine and said in a low voice, ‘Sorry, my dear. Do come and see us some other time. Staff are inclined to come and go pretty smartly here.'

She thanked him and thought if she'd only had him to contend with she would definitely come back, but the dragon in Reception had rather put her
orf
.

She tried several more places but it was definitely a no go area at the Mayfair, where dogs were welcome at three shilling and sixpence a day but not Liverpudlians who were seventeen with no references and only a boarding house for an address. She tried several more places and some told her to apply in writing as they might need extra staff later in the season and others met her request with a straight refusal.

Her feet began to ache in her high-heeled shoes so that she was almost hobbling when she headed once more in the direction of the Promenade where she remembered seeing a medium-sized hotel called the Lancaster which had looked a decent enough place.

The sea breeze blew moisture from the striped awning overhead and splattered her raincoat as she took the two steps leading to the hotel's entrance. She turned the brass knob on the front door and went inside.

The entrance hall was much of a muchness with the Arcadia and without hesitation she approached the man wearing a pinstripe suit sitting behind the reception desk. He had smoothed-back shiny brown hair and she guessed he was around the same age as Mick. He flashed her a smile. ‘Can I help you, miss?'

She did not hesitate. ‘Miss Katherine Mcdonald. Are you the proprietor?'

‘That's right. I'm Mr Walsh.' He flicked open the leatherbound book on the desk in front of him and lifted his eyes, which on close inspection were lugubrious and had bags under them as if he hadn't slept much lately. ‘Do you require a room, Miss Mcdonald?'

‘I'm sure your rooms are very nice,' she said with a candid smile, ‘but no. I'm seeking employment and wondered if you had any vacancies? I do have experience in the hotel trade and am prepared to do anything because due to family reasons I've had to leave my last job and –'

He interrupted her. ‘You
are
Liverpudlian?'

She said frankly, ‘Would you hold it against me if I said yes?'

He smiled. ‘My wife's a Liverpudlian. I'm sorry, but we've just taken on extra staff.'

Katherine's spirits sank and she was about to turn away when he stopped her. ‘You say you're prepared to do anything? Do you mean that?'

‘Yes,' she said swiftly, knees unexpectedly weak with relief.

‘And are you prepared to work in Liverpool?'

She could not believe it. ‘What is this? You're offering me a job in a hotel in Liverpool?'

He opened a flap in the desk. ‘Come with me. If you're not fussy, my wife may have something for you.'

Before Katherine could even think of asking him what he meant by ‘not fussy' he vanished through a door to the right of the desk. She followed him into a small sitting room where a woman lay stretched out on a sofa with a plaid rug thrown over her legs. There was a Moses basket on two chairs beside her and from it came the mewling of a very young baby.

‘Hettie, this is Miss Katherine Mcdonald and she's looking for a job. She says she'll do anything and I've told her you might have a job for her in Liverpool. I'll leave you two alone.' He smiled encouragingly at them before closing the door behind him.

‘Well! The nerve of the man!' exclaimed Mrs Walsh as soon as he had gone. She looked to be at least ten years younger than her husband, with hair cropped close to her head and curled in an unruly fashion about her small face. She gave an impish smile. ‘He didn't tell you what the job is, did he? You probably won't want it when I tell you.'

‘I'll do it! Just tell me what it is,' said Katherine, almost jumping up and down with impatience.

Mrs Walsh shook her head. ‘You won't want it.
I
don't want it! Even if I could do it, which I can't with the baby and this place to run. Besides, you're probably too young.' She looked doubtfully at her. ‘Although young and strong is just what she needs …'

‘Who?' cried Katherine, liking the look of the woman but wishing she would get to the point.

‘My gran!' wailed Hettie Walsh, staring helplessly at her. ‘She's an awld bitch but she needs help … not that she'll admit it.'

‘What kind of help?' asked Katherine cautiously.

‘In her shop. She's almost crippled with rheumatism but refuses to give up the shop. It's been a way of life with her since before she was married. She's had more assistants than I've fingers since my mother died, but none of them'll put up with her because she's her own worst enemy. It's the pain that makes her like that, you understand. She hasn't always been that way. She won't come and live here – not that I believe that'd work – so the only thing I can think of is for me to pay for help so she can carry on as long as possible where she is.'

‘But we've no place to live in Liverpool.'

‘That's OK. If you're not fussy there's a couple of empty rooms above those which my gran uses over the shop. She could do with someone there round the clock. By the way, who's we?'

Katherine barely hesitated. ‘My mother.' The job was not what she really wanted but it was better than nothing. Besides she was used to being nice to people, especially elderly ladies who came into town from the wilds of Lancashire or Wales to see a show or go shopping. Although sick, stubborn old ladies who wanted to carry on running a shop weren't her style – but maybe that was where her mother would prove useful.

Mrs Walsh sighed. ‘You don't want the job? I knew it. It's a tough one, isn't it?'

‘You've been very honest.'

‘No sense in lying,' interrupted the older woman. ‘You'd soon find out the truth. It would need a saint to take on the job.'

‘It's not what I was looking for, but maybe I would be interested. What kind of shop is it?'

‘A pet shop. That's another problem – not everybody can cope with animals.'

Katherine stared at her and vaguely remembered Celia mentioning something about her mother's having kept a pet shop. Perhaps this offer of a job could be the one to tempt her away from taking too long a holiday? ‘My mother worked in a pet shop when she was a girl. If she can come too then maybe we'll consider it.' She felt certain that she herself would be able to find something else, if the job Mrs Walsh had described was not enough for two of them. After all, the country was supposed to be crying out for workers now the dark years of austerity were behind them.

A grin lit up Mrs Walsh's face. ‘She sounds like the answer to my prayer, but perhaps the pair of you had better have a look at the place first and meet Gran?'

‘No harm in having a decko,' said Katherine. ‘Do you want to know something about us? I mean, you don't know us from Adam.'

‘You look OK to me,' said Mrs Walsh cheerfully. ‘Now let me give you Gran's address and you can get back to me as soon as possible.'

Celia was standing at the window looking out for her when Katherine arrived back at the boarding house. As soon as she entered the room, her mother pounced. ‘Where've you been? I thought you must have gone back to
her
, the time you were!'

‘I wouldn't go off without telling you,' said Katherine, as Celia helped her off with her raincoat and hung it on the back of a chair. She kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes. ‘How d'you feel about going back to Liverpool?'

Celia sat down heavily on a bed. ‘Is that where you've been?'

‘No! I've been looking for hotel work but with no luck. I've been offered something else instead.' She leaned forward. ‘You did work in a pet shop when you were a girl, didn't you?'

Celia's grey eyes showed surprise. ‘What's that got to do with anything?'

‘This woman, Mrs Walsh, whose husband owns the Lancaster Hotel, has asked me if I would like the job of helping her elderly gran who has a shop in Liverpool?'

‘I knew it! You're already fed up with me!' Celia's eyes filled with tears. ‘Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm not much company and –'

‘Shut up, Celia!' Katherine was tempted to give her a good shake.

‘See! You can't even call me Mother!'

‘No, I can't,' she said crossly. ‘And I'm unhappy about that but it can't be helped. Maybe when we're more used to each other and I know you better I will. For now, listen while I tell you about this job. We can
both
go. There's rooms above the shop. They're empty but I'm sure we can buy some bits of furniture secondhand and do them up. The old woman's crippled with rheumatism, she needs someone to help her.'

There was a silence.

‘Both of us! A pet shop, you say?' asked Celia cautiously.

‘You've got it in one.'

Another silence.

‘Where in Liverpool?'

Katherine glanced at the slip of paper Mrs Walsh had given her. ‘Everton. Here, have a look. The old lady's a Mrs Evans. I know it'll be a big change from Southport but –'

‘If it's Everton, it's far enough away from the Arcadia for me. Not that I know this part well and it's not too far from town, but still they won't know to come looking for us there.'

Katherine ignored all that. ‘So you like the idea?'

‘It depends on the old woman. But if you say we can both do it, I think it's worth a try.'

‘Of course we can do it,' said Katherine positively. ‘We'll have a decko in the morning and see how things go. Now isn't it time we were going down for dinner? I'm starving!'

Katherine only narrowly missed falling over a half-full sack of dog biscuits in the open doorway as she entered the shop. Celia was not so lucky but that was probably down to her stopping to admire a couple of silky-haired angora rabbits in the window and pausing to place a couple of pennies in the head of an artificial dog left outside for donations towards an animal charity. ‘That needs moving,' she said, kicking the sack.

Katherine nodded absently and her nose twitched as different smells assailed her nostrils. A couple of flies buzzed as she glanced round the interior which was a mishmash of everything a pet might need. There were feeding bowls, rubber bones, thick studded leather collars and tiny ones with bells on. Dog leads hung from the ceiling as well as cages, millet sprays, and a fly paper with several flies stuck to it.

On shelves closer to hand there were more bells with tiny mirrors. There were chocolate drops, peanuts, sunflower seeds, rabbit food and sacks of straw bedding. Budgerigars twittered, several puppies yapped and a marmalade cat uncurled itself from a patch of sun on the counter where there was a marble slab, a pair of brass scales and various-sized weights, as well as a pile of newspapers.

The cat stretched and yawned before springing down from the counter and purring loudly as it stropped their legs.

‘At least he's friendly,' said Katherine, bending to stroke the animal.

‘Who's there?' There was the tap-tap of a stick and a curtain which hung beyond the rear end of the counter was pushed aside as the bent figure of an old woman appeared. She peered at them through thick-lensed spectacles as she rested a claw-like hand on the counter. A black shawl shrouded her shoulders and she wore a pine green frock buttoned up the front which almost reached her ankles. She wore slippers on her feet and her hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush in a month. ‘Where's that lad?' she demanded.

‘There was nobody here when we came in,' said Katherine.

The woman scowled. ‘He's a blankety-blank nuisance! I'm not paying him to skive off as soon as me back's turned. You can't trust lads these days. What is it you want?'

‘We've come to help you,' said Celia before Katherine had a chance to get another word in. She took off her coat and squeezed round the other end of the counter, her freckled face bright with excitement. ‘I see you don't have mice?'

‘Mice! Who sez I have mice? Why d'yer think I keep that no-good cat? Lazing about all day without a care in the world. What d'yer mean, you've come to help?'

‘Your granddaughter –' began Katherine, only for Celia to get in first again.