home, though she knew that Tom vaguely disapproved, instead of being thankful for a good, hard-working, home-loving son.
As for Grace, the episode with Mrs Bentley-Foulkes still rankled, and she had begun to feel a little bored with the refinement of Stepaside, therarefied atmosphere of high-class tea rooms presided over by a lady of quality who swanned among her guests, just as if she had not been cake-making all the morning. Grace liked earning a small wage of her own, and she told herself that it didn’t cost anything to bow and scrape, but Stepaside was not the only place to eat in Everham. The Railway Hotel did brisk business with the dinner trade or, as it was beginning to be called,
lunch
, served from midday to businessmen, commercial travellers and representatives of firms – and more recently, the military and naval personnel travelling between London and Southampton. These clients needed more than soup and little bits and pieces on toast, and when Grace heard roars of male laughter from the hotel restaurant, her curiosity was aroused; she wondered how much could be earned by a waitress serving steak-and-kidney pies and mutton chops to its patrons – men who would give her a second look and might even exchange pleasantries with her, not to mention the tips pressed into her hand. There was only one way to find out: by going to see the manager as soon as she left Stepaside at closing time, even if it meant missing her bus.
With a thumping heart she entered the Railway Hotel by the front door which opened into a narrow lobby. A middle-aged man in shirtsleeves and smoking a cigarette stood talking to a younger man.
‘Mr Coggins won’t want to be disturbed at this time o’day,’ he told Grace when she asked if she might speak to the manager. ‘What’s it about?’
Grace knew that a firm approach would be preferable to the shyness she felt.
‘I’m enquiring about any vacancies for staff to serve lunches,’ she said boldly.
‘We don’t need no extra kitchen staff,’ the man replied with a discouraging shake of his head, and for a moment Grace’s hopes were dashed. She was not going to be put off by this man, however.
‘Well, perhaps my name could be put down as a possible future waitress,’ she volunteered, raising her voice, and at that moment Mr Coggins called from his office.
‘Who is it, Tubby?’
‘Only a slip of a girl askin’ about a job servin’ lunches,’ the man called back.
‘How old?’
‘I’m sixteen, sir!’ cried Grace, adding a year to her age.
‘Fetch her in, Tubby, and let’s have a look.’
Grace didn’t need Tubby to fetch her anywhere, but stepped smartly to the half-open door where Mr Coggins sat at a desk, a glass at his elbow. He looked her up and down.
‘We’ve only just taken on that lad from the Union, CC,’ said Tubby irritably.
‘Yeah, but this is a girl. Any experience, missie?’ asked Mr Coggins.
‘Yes, sir, I’m at present employed by Mrs Brangton at Stepaside.’
‘Oho, so you know your manners. Well, I’m sorry, Miss…er, what was the name?’
‘Miss Munday, sir.’
‘Sorry, Miss Munday, but I don’t need any new staff right now.’
‘But Mr Coggins—’
‘Right, you ’eard what Mr Coggins said, so off yer go,’ said Tubby nastily, but Mr Coggins held up his hand.
‘Wait a minute, there might be a job for her later on, Tubby, and not so far off, neither,’ he said in a low tone but perfectly audible to Grace.
‘’Ow’d yer make that out, CC?’
‘We could get a lot busier if there’s any, er, trouble,’ said Mr Coggins cryptically. ‘All right, Miss Munday, you can go back to your posh Mrs Brangton, and I’ll know where you are if I need more staff, right?’
To which Grace could only smile, nod and say politely, ‘Thank you very much, Mr Coggins. Good evening.’
And ignoring Tubby, she walked out of the Railway Hotel with her head held as high as if she had not received a disappointment.
July, 1914
It was
As for Grace, the episode with Mrs Bentley-Foulkes still rankled, and she had begun to feel a little bored with the refinement of Stepaside, therarefied atmosphere of high-class tea rooms presided over by a lady of quality who swanned among her guests, just as if she had not been cake-making all the morning. Grace liked earning a small wage of her own, and she told herself that it didn’t cost anything to bow and scrape, but Stepaside was not the only place to eat in Everham. The Railway Hotel did brisk business with the dinner trade or, as it was beginning to be called,
lunch
, served from midday to businessmen, commercial travellers and representatives of firms – and more recently, the military and naval personnel travelling between London and Southampton. These clients needed more than soup and little bits and pieces on toast, and when Grace heard roars of male laughter from the hotel restaurant, her curiosity was aroused; she wondered how much could be earned by a waitress serving steak-and-kidney pies and mutton chops to its patrons – men who would give her a second look and might even exchange pleasantries with her, not to mention the tips pressed into her hand. There was only one way to find out: by going to see the manager as soon as she left Stepaside at closing time, even if it meant missing her bus.
With a thumping heart she entered the Railway Hotel by the front door which opened into a narrow lobby. A middle-aged man in shirtsleeves and smoking a cigarette stood talking to a younger man.
‘Mr Coggins won’t want to be disturbed at this time o’day,’ he told Grace when she asked if she might speak to the manager. ‘What’s it about?’
Grace knew that a firm approach would be preferable to the shyness she felt.
‘I’m enquiring about any vacancies for staff to serve lunches,’ she said boldly.
‘We don’t need no extra kitchen staff,’ the man replied with a discouraging shake of his head, and for a moment Grace’s hopes were dashed. She was not going to be put off by this man, however.
‘Well, perhaps my name could be put down as a possible future waitress,’ she volunteered, raising her voice, and at that moment Mr Coggins called from his office.
‘Who is it, Tubby?’
‘Only a slip of a girl askin’ about a job servin’ lunches,’ the man called back.
‘How old?’
‘I’m sixteen, sir!’ cried Grace, adding a year to her age.
‘Fetch her in, Tubby, and let’s have a look.’
Grace didn’t need Tubby to fetch her anywhere, but stepped smartly to the half-open door where Mr Coggins sat at a desk, a glass at his elbow. He looked her up and down.
‘We’ve only just taken on that lad from the Union, CC,’ said Tubby irritably.
‘Yeah, but this is a girl. Any experience, missie?’ asked Mr Coggins.
‘Yes, sir, I’m at present employed by Mrs Brangton at Stepaside.’
‘Oho, so you know your manners. Well, I’m sorry, Miss…er, what was the name?’
‘Miss Munday, sir.’
‘Sorry, Miss Munday, but I don’t need any new staff right now.’
‘But Mr Coggins—’
‘Right, you ’eard what Mr Coggins said, so off yer go,’ said Tubby nastily, but Mr Coggins held up his hand.
‘Wait a minute, there might be a job for her later on, Tubby, and not so far off, neither,’ he said in a low tone but perfectly audible to Grace.
‘’Ow’d yer make that out, CC?’
‘We could get a lot busier if there’s any, er, trouble,’ said Mr Coggins cryptically. ‘All right, Miss Munday, you can go back to your posh Mrs Brangton, and I’ll know where you are if I need more staff, right?’
To which Grace could only smile, nod and say politely, ‘Thank you very much, Mr Coggins. Good evening.’
And ignoring Tubby, she walked out of the Railway Hotel with her head held as high as if she had not received a disappointment.
July, 1914
It was
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