When she checked the lunch bookings that Sunday, Maisie quickly realized she’d have to make sure that two of her customers were seated as far away from each other as possible. She put Mike Mulholland on his usual table, and Patrick Casey on the far side of the room, so there wasn’t any chance of them bumping into each other.
She hadn’t set eyes on Patrick for nearly three years, and wondered if he’d changed. Did he still have those irresistible good looks and Irish charm that had so captivated her when they’d first met?
One of her questions was answered the moment he entered the room.
‘How nice to see you after all this time, Mr Casey,’ she said before accompanying him to his table. Several middle-aged women took a second look at the handsome Irishman as he crossed the room. ‘Will you be staying with us for long this time, Mr Casey?’ Maisie asked as she passed him a menu.
‘That depends on you,’ said Patrick. He opened the menu, but didn’t study its contents.
Maisie hoped that no one noticed her blush. She turned, to see Mike Mulholland waiting by reception; he would never allow anyone but Maisie to show him to his table. She hurried across and whispered, ‘Hello, Mike. I’ve reserved your usual table. Would you like to follow me?’
‘I sure would.’
Once Mike had turned his attention to the menu – although he always had the same two dishes every Sunday, soup of the day followed by boiled beef and Yorkshire pudding – she walked back across the room to take Patrick’s order.
During the next two hours, Maisie kept a close eye on both men, while at the same time trying to supervise a hundred other customers. When the dining-room clock struck three, there were only two people left in the room; John Wayne and Gary Cooper, thought Maisie, waiting to see who would draw first at the OK Corral. She folded Mike’s bill, put it on a plate and took it across to him. He paid it without checking.
‘Another great meal,’ he said, before adding in a whisper, ‘I hope we’re still on for the theatre Tuesday night?’
‘We sure are, honey,’ said Maisie, teasing him.
‘Then I’ll see you at the Old Vic at eight,’ he said as a waitress passed by his table.
‘I’ll look forward to that, sir, and you can be sure I’ll pass on your compliments to the chef.’
Mike stifled a laugh, before leaving the table and strolling out of the dining room. He looked back at Maisie and smiled.
Once he was out of sight, Maisie took Patrick’s bill across to him. He checked every item and left a large tip. ‘Are you doing anything special tomorrow evening?’ he asked, giving Maisie that smile she remembered so well.
‘Yes, I’m attending an evening class.’
‘You’re kidding me,’ said Patrick.
‘No, and I mustn’t be late, because it’s the first lesson of a twelve-week course.’ She didn’t tell him that she hadn’t finally decided whether to go through with it or not.
‘Then it will have to be Tuesday,’ said Patrick.
‘I already have a date on Tuesday.’
‘Do you really, or are you just saying that to get rid of me?’
‘No, I’m going to the theatre.’
‘Then what about Wednesday, or is that your night for algebraic equations?’
‘No, composition and reading out loud.’
‘Thursday?’ said Patrick, trying not to sound exasperated.
‘Yes, I’m free on Thursday,’ said Maisie, as another waitress passed by their table.
‘That’s a relief,’ said Patrick. ‘I was beginning to think I’d have to book in for a second week, just to get an appointment.’
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.