Clifton Chronicles 02 - The Sins of the Father (8 page)

‘You want me to do what?’ said Maisie.

‘Take me on as a waitress.’

‘But why?’

‘I’d prefer not to tell you.’

‘Do you have any idea how hard the work is?’

‘No,’ admitted Emma, ‘but I won’t let you down.’

‘And when do you want to start?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’

‘For how long?’

‘One month.’

‘Now let me try and get this straight,’ said Maisie. ‘You want me to train you as a waitress, starting tomorrow, and you’ll be leaving in a month’s time, but you won’t tell me why?’

‘That’s about it.’

‘Are you expecting to be paid?’

‘No,’ said Emma.

‘Well, that’s a relief.’

‘So when do I start?’

‘Six o’clock tomorrow morning.’

‘Six o’clock?’ repeated Emma in disbelief.

‘This may come as a surprise, Emma, but I have customers who need to be fed by seven, and at work by eight, so you’ll have to make sure you’re at your station by six – every morning.’

‘My station?’

‘I’ll explain if you turn up before six.’

Emma wasn’t late for work once in the next twenty-eight days, possibly because Jenkins tapped on her door at 4.30 every morning, and Hudson dropped her off a hundred yards from the staff entrance of the Grand Hotel by 5.45.

Miss Dickens, as she was known by the rest of the staff, took advantage of her acting skills to make sure that no one worked out that she was a Barrington.

Mrs Clifton showed Emma no favours when she spilt some soup over a regular customer, and even less when she dropped a stack of plates that shattered in the middle of the dining room. The cost would normally have been deducted from her pay packet, if she’d had one. And it was some time before Emma got the knack of using her shoulder to barge through the swing doors that led in and out of the kitchen without colliding with another waitress coming from the opposite direction.

Despite this, Maisie quickly discovered that she only had to tell Emma something once, and she never forgot it. She was also impressed how quickly Emma could turn a table round, although she’d never laid one before in her life. And while most trainees took several weeks to master the skill of silver service, some never managing it, Emma didn’t need any further supervision by the end of her second week.

By the end of her third, Maisie wished she wasn’t leaving, and by the end of the fourth, so did several regulars, who were insisting that only Miss Dickens must serve them.

Maisie was becoming anxious about how she was going to explain to the hotel manager that Miss Dickens had given in her notice after only a month.

‘You can tell Mr Hurst that I’ve been offered a better job, with more pay,’ said Emma as she began folding up her uniform.

‘He’s not going to be pleased,’ said Maisie. ‘It might have been easier if you’d turned out to be useless, or at least been late a few times.’ Emma laughed, and placed her little white cap neatly on top of her clothes for the last time.

‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Dickens?’ asked Maisie.

‘Yes please,’ said Emma. ‘I need a reference.’

‘Applying for another unpaid job, are you?’

‘Something like that,’ replied Emma, feeling a little guilty that she wasn’t able to take Harry’s mother into her confidence.

‘Then I’ll dictate a reference, you write it, and I’ll sign it,’ she said, passing Emma a sheet of the hotel’s headed notepaper. ‘To whom it may concern,’ Maisie began. ‘During the short time—’

‘Could I possibly leave out “short”?’ asked Emma.

Maisie smiled.

‘During the time Miss Dickens has been with us at the Grand’ – Emma wrote ‘Miss Barrington’, but didn’t tell her – ‘she has proved hard-working, efficient and popular with both the customers and staff. Her skills as a waitress are impressive, and her ability to learn on the job convinces me that any establishment would be fortunate to have her as a member of their staff. We will be sorry to lose her, and should she ever want to return to this hotel, we would welcome her back.’

Emma smiled as she handed the sheet of paper back. Maisie scribbled her signature above the words
Restaurant Manageress
.

‘Thank you,’ said Emma, wrapping her arms around her.

‘I have no idea what you’re up to, my dear,’ said Maisie, once Emma had released her, ‘but whatever it is, I wish you luck.’

Emma wanted to tell her, I’m going in search of your son, and I won’t return until I’ve found him.

8

E
MMA HAD BEEN
standing on the dockside for over an hour when she spotted the
Kansas Star
nosing its way into port, but it was another hour before the ship finally docked.

During that time, Emma thought about the decision she’d made, and was already beginning to wonder if she had the courage to go through with it. She tried to dismiss from her thoughts the sinking of the
Athenia
a few months before, and the possibility of never even making it to New York.

She had written a long letter to her mother, trying to explain why she’d be away for a couple of weeks – three at the most – and only hoped she would understand. But she couldn’t write a letter to Sebastian to let him know that she was going in search of his father, and was already missing him. She kept trying to convince herself that she was doing it as much for her son as for herself.

Sir Walter had once again offered to introduce her to the captain of the
Kansas Star
, but Emma had politely declined, as it didn’t fit in with her plan to remain anonymous. He’d also given her a vague description of Dr Wallace, and certainly no one who looked remotely like that had disembarked from the ship that morning. However, Sir Walter was able to pass on two other valuable pieces of information. The
Kansas Star
would be departing on the last tide that evening. And the purser could usually be found in his office between the hours of two and five every afternoon, completing embarkation forms. More important, he was responsible for the employment of non-crew members of staff.

Emma had written to her grandfather the day before to thank him for his help, but she still didn’t let him know what she was up to, although she had a feeling he’d worked it out.

After the clock on Barrington House had struck twice, and there was still no sign of Dr Wallace, Emma picked up her small suitcase and decided the time had come to walk the gangplank. When she stepped nervously on to the deck, she asked the first person she saw in uniform the way to the purser’s office, and was told lower deck aft.

She spotted a passenger disappearing down a wide staircase, and followed her to what she assumed must be the lower deck, but as she had no idea where aft was, she joined a queue at the information desk.

Behind the counter stood two girls, dressed in dark blue uniforms and white blouses. They were attempting to answer every passenger’s query while keeping smiles etched on their faces.

‘How can I help you, miss?’ one of them asked when Emma eventually reached the front of the queue. The girl clearly assumed she was a passenger, and in fact Emma had considered paying for her passage to New York, but had decided she was more likely to find out what she needed to know if she signed on as a member of the crew.

‘Where will I find the purser’s office?’ she asked.

‘Second door on the right down that companionway,’ replied the girl. ‘You can’t miss it.’

Emma followed her pointing finger, and when she reached a door marked
Purser
she took a deep breath and knocked.

‘Come in.’

Emma opened the door and stepped inside to find a smartly dressed officer seated behind a desk that was strewn with forms. He wore a crisp, open-necked white shirt which had two gold epaulettes on each shoulder.

‘How can I help you?’ he asked in an accent she’d never heard before, and could hardly decipher.

‘I’m looking for a job as a waitress, sir,’ said Emma, hoping she sounded like one of the maids at the Manor House.

‘Sorry,’ he said, looking back down. ‘Don’t need any more waitresses. The only available position is on the information desk.’

‘I’d be happy to work there,’ said Emma, reverting to her normal voice.

The purser gave her a closer look. ‘The pay’s not good,’ he warned her, ‘and the hours are worse.’

‘I’m used to that,’ said Emma.

‘And I can’t offer you a permanent position,’ continued the purser, ‘because one of my girls is on shore leave in New York, and will be rejoining the ship after this crossing.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ said Emma without explanation.

The purser still didn’t look convinced. ‘Can you read and write?’

Emma would like to have told him that she’d won a scholarship to Oxford, but simply said, ‘Yes, sir.’

Without another word, he pulled open a drawer and extracted a long form, passed her a fountain pen and said, ‘Fill this in.’ As Emma began to answer the questions, he added, ‘And I’ll also need to see a reference.’

Once Emma had completed the form, she opened her bag and handed over Maisie’s letter of recommendation.

‘Very impressive,’ he said. ‘But are you sure you’re suited to being a receptionist?’

‘It was going to be my next job at the Grand,’ Emma said. ‘All part of my training to be a manageress.’

‘Then why give up that opportunity to join us?’

‘I have a great-aunt who lives in New York, and my mother wants me to stay with her until the war is over.’

This time the purser did look convinced, as it wasn’t the first time someone had wanted to work their passage in order to get away from England. ‘Then let’s get you started,’ he said, jumping up. He marched out of the office and led her on the short journey back to the information desk.

‘Peggy, I’ve found someone to replace Dana on this voyage, so you better get her started straight away.’

‘Thank God for that,’ said Peggy, lifting a flap so Emma could join her behind the counter. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked in the same almost impenetrable accent. For the first time Emma understood what Bernard Shaw had meant when he suggested that the English and the Americans were divided by a common language.

‘Emma Barrington.’

‘Well, Emma, this is my assistant, Trudy. As we’re so busy, perhaps you could just observe for now, and we’ll try to fill you in as we go along.’

Emma took a pace back and watched as the two girls handled everything that was thrown at them, while somehow managing to keep smiling.

Within an hour, Emma knew at what time and where passengers should report for lifeboat drill, which deck the grill room was on, how far out to sea they had to be before passengers could order a drink, where they might find a partner for a round of bridge after dinner, and how to get to the upper deck if you wanted to watch the sunset.

For the next hour, Emma listened to most of the same questions being asked again and again, and during the third, she took a step forward and began to respond to the passengers’ queries herself, only occasionally needing to refer to the other two girls.

Peggy was impressed, and when the queue had dwindled to a few latecomers, she said to Emma, ‘Time to show you your quarters and grab some supper while the passengers are having a pre-dinner drink.’ She turned to Trudy and added, ‘I’ll be back around seven to relieve you,’ then lifted the flap and stepped out from behind the desk. Trudy nodded as another passenger came forward.

‘Can you tell me if we have to dress for dinner tonight?’

‘Not on the first night, sir,’ came back the firm reply, ‘but every other night.’

Peggy never stopped chatting as she led Emma down a long corridor, arriving at the top of some roped-off steps with a sign declaring in bold red letters,
CREW ONLY
.

‘This leads to our quarters,’ she explained as she unhooked the rope. ‘You’re going to have to share a cabin with me,’ Peggy added as they walked down, ‘because Dana’s bunk is the only one available at the moment.’

‘That’s fine,’ said Emma.

Down, down and down they went; the stairwells becoming more cramped with each deck. Peggy only stopped talking when a crew member stood aside to let them pass. Occasionally she would reward them with a warm smile. Emma had never come across anyone like Peggy in her life: so fiercely independent, yet somehow she managed to remain feminine, with her bobbed fair hair, skirt that only just fell below the knees, and tight jacket that left you in no doubt how good her figure was.

‘This is our cabin,’ she said finally. ‘It’s where you’ll be sleeping for the next week. I hope you weren’t expecting anything palatial.’

Emma entered a cabin that was smaller than any room at the Manor House, including the broom cupboard.

‘Ghastly, isn’t it?’ said Peggy. ‘In fact, this old tub has only one thing going for it.’ Emma didn’t need to ask what that might be, because Peggy was only too happy to answer her own questions, as well as Emma’s. ‘The male to female ratio is better than almost anywhere else on earth,’ said Peggy, laughing, before she added, ‘That’s Dana’s bunk, and this is mine. As you can see, there isn’t enough room for two people in here at the same time, unless one of them is in bed. I’ll leave you to get unpacked, and come back in half an hour to take you down to the staff canteen for supper.’