Maisie laughed. 'So what do you have in mind?'
'I thought we'd start by going to - '
'Mrs Clifton.' Maisie swung round to find the hotel manager, Mr Hurst, standing behind her. 'When you've finished with this customer,' he said, 'perhaps you'd be kind enough to join me in my office?'
Maisie thought she'd been discreet, but now she feared she might even get the sack, because it was against company policy for members of staff to fraternize with the customers. That was how she'd lost her previous job, and Pat Casey had been the customer in question on that occasion.
She was grateful that Patrick slipped out of the restaurant without another word, and once she'd checked the till, she reported to Mr Hurst's office.
'Take a seat, Mrs Clifton. I have a rather serious matter to discuss with you.' Maisie sat down and gripped the arms of the chair to stop herself shaking. 'I could see you were having another busy day.'
'A hundred and forty-two covers,' said Maisie. 'Almost a record.'
'I don't know how I'm going to replace you,' he said before adding, 'but management make these decisions, not me, you understand. It's out of my hands.'
'But I enjoy my job,' said Maisie.
'That may well be the case, but I have to tell you that on this occasion I agree with head office.' Maisie sat back, ready to accept her fate. 'They have made it clear,' continued Mr Hurst, 'that they no longer want you to work in the dining room, and have asked me to replace you as soon as possible.'
'But why?'
'Because they're keen for you to go into management. Frankly, Maisie, if you were a man, you'd already be running one of our hotels. Congratulations!'
'Thank you,' said Maisie, as she began to think about the implications.
'Let's get the formalities out of the way, shall we?' said Mr Hurst as he pulled open his desk drawer and extracted a letter. 'You'll need to study this carefully,' he said. 'It details your new terms of employment. Once you've read it, sign it, return it to me, and I'll send it back to head office.'
That was when she made the decision.
29
MAISIE WAS FEARFUL of making a fool of herself.
When she reached the school gate, she nearly turned back, and would have done, if she hadn't seen another woman older than herself entering the building. She followed her through the front door and along the corridor, stopping when she reached the classroom. She peeped inside, hoping to find the room so full that no one would notice her. But there were only seven other people present: two men and five women.
She crept to the back of the classroom and took a seat behind the two men, hoping she couldn't be seen. Maisie immediately regretted her decision, because if she'd taken a seat by the door, she could have escaped more easily.
She bowed her head when the door opened and Mr Holcombe swept into the room. He took his place behind the desk in front of the blackboard, tugged the lapels of his long black gown and peered down at his pupils. He smiled when he spotted Mrs Clifton seated near the back.
'I'm going to start by writing out all twenty-six letters of the alphabet,' he began, 'and I want you to call them out as I write them down.' He picked up a piece of chalk and turned his back on the class. He wrote the letter A on the blackboard, and several voices could be heard in unison, B, a veritable chorus, C, everyone except Maisie. When he came to Z, Maisie mouthed the letter.
'I'm now going to point to a letter at random and see if you can still identify it.' The second time round, Maisie called out over half of them, and on her third attempt she was leading the chorus. When the hour was up, only Mr Holcombe would have realized it was her first lesson in twenty years and Maisie wasn't in any hurry to go home.
'By the time we meet again on Wednesday,' said Mr Holcombe, 'you must all be able to write the twenty-six letters of the alphabet, in their correct order.'
Maisie intended to have the alphabet mastered by Tuesday, so there would be no possibility of her making a mistake.
'To those of you who are unable to join me in the pub for a drink, I'll see you on Wednesday.'
Maisie assumed you had to be invited to join Mr Holcombe, so she slipped out of her chair and headed for the door, while the others surrounded the schoolmaster's desk with a dozen questions.
'Will you be coming to the pub, Mrs Clifton?' asked the schoolmaster just as Maisie reached the door.
'Thank you, Mr Holcombe. I'd like that,' she heard herself saying, and joined the others as they left the room and strolled across the road to the Ship Inn.
One by one, the other pupils drifted off, until only the two of them were seated at the bar.
'Do you have any idea just how bright you are?' asked Mr Holcombe after he'd bought her another orange juice.
'But I left school at twelve, and I still can't read or write.'
'You may have left school too early, but you've never stopped learning. And as you're Harry Clifton's mother, you'll probably end up teaching me.'
'Harry taught you?'
'Daily, without realizing it. But then, I knew very early on that he was brighter than me. I only hoped I could get him to Bristol Grammar School before he found it out for himself.'
'And did you?' asked Maisie, smiling.
'It was a damn close-run thing,' admitted Holcombe.
'Last orders!' shouted the barman.
Maisie looked at the clock behind the bar. She couldn't believe it was already 9.30, and blackout regulations had to be adhered to.
It seemed natural that Mr Holcombe should walk her home; after all, they'd known each other for so many years. On the way through the unlit streets, he told her many more stories about Harry, which made her both happy and sad. It was clear that Mr Holcombe also missed him, and she felt guilty for not thanking him many years before.
When they reached the front door of her home in Still House Lane, Maisie said, 'I don't know your first name.'
'Arnold,' he said shyly.
'It suits you,' she said. 'May I call you Arnold?'
'Yes, of course.'
'And you must call me Maisie.' She took out her front door key and placed it in the lock. 'Goodnight, Arnold. See you on Wednesday.'
The Sins of the Father
An evening at the theatre brought back many happy memories for Maisie of the days when Patrick Casey would take her to the Old Vic whenever he visited Bristol. But just as the memory of Patrick had faded and she'd begun to spend time with another man with whom she felt there might be a future, the damned leprechaun bounced back into her life. He'd already told her that there was a reason he wanted to see her, and she wasn't in much doubt what that reason was. She didn't need him to throw her life into turmoil yet again. She thought about Mike, one of the kindest and most decent men she'd ever come across, and guileless in his attempts to hide his feelings for her.
One thing Patrick had instilled in her was never to be late for the theatre. He felt there was nothing more embarrassing than treading on people's toes as you made your way in darkness to the inevitable centre seats after the curtain had risen.
Mike was already standing in the foyer holding a programme when Maisie walked into the theatre ten minutes before the curtain was due to rise. As soon as she saw him she smiled, and couldn't help thinking how he always raised her spirits. He returned her smile, and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek.