Only Time Will Tell Read online

  ‘But I couldn’t think of leaving Miss Tilly,’ interrupted Maisie. ‘She’s been so good to me over the past six years.’

  ‘I fully appreciate your feelings, Mrs Clifton. Indeed, I would have been disappointed if that had not been your immediate response. Loyalty is a trait I greatly admire. However, you must not only consider your own future, but also your son’s, should he take up the offer of a choral scholarship to St Bede’s.’

  Maisie was speechless.

  When Maisie finished work that evening, she found Eddie sitting in his car outside the tea shop waiting for her. She noticed that he didn’t jump out to open the passenger door this time.

  ‘So, where are you taking me?’ she asked as she climbed in beside him.

  ‘It’s a surprise,’ said Eddie as he pressed the starter, ‘but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’

  He pushed the gear lever into first, and headed towards a part of the city that Maisie hadn’t visited before. A few minutes later, he drove into a side alley and came to a halt outside a large oak door below a neon sign that announced in glowing red letters, EDDIE’S NIGHTCLUB.

  ‘This is yours?’ asked Maisie.

  ‘Every square inch,’ said Eddie proudly. ‘Come inside and see for yourself.’ He leapt out of the car, opened the front door and led Maisie inside. ‘This used to be a granary,’ he explained as he took her down a narrow wooden staircase. ‘But now that ships can no longer sail this far up the river, the company’s had to move, so I was able to pick up their lease for a very reasonable price.’

  Maisie entered a large, dimly lit room. It was some time before her eyes had adjusted well enough to take it all in. There were half a dozen men sitting on high leather stools drinking at the bar, and almost as many waitresses fluttering around them. The wall behind the bar consisted of a vast mirror, giving the impression the room was far larger than it actually was. At the centre was a dance floor, surrounded by plush velvet banquettes that would just about seat two people. At the far end was a small stage with a piano, double bass, a set of drums and several music stands.

  Eddie took a seat at the bar. Looking around the room he said, ‘This is why I’ve been spending so much time in America. Speakeasies like this are springing up all over New York and Chicago, and they’re making a fortune.’ He lit a cigar. ‘And I promise you, there won’t be anything else like this in Bristol, that’s for sure.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ Maisie repeated as she joined him at the bar, but didn’t attempt to climb up on to one of the high stools.

  ‘What’s your poison, doll?’ said Eddie, in what he imagined to be an American accent.

  ‘I don’t drink,’ Maisie reminded him.

  ‘That’s one of the reasons I chose you.’

  ‘Chose me?’

  ‘Sure. You’d be the ideal person to take charge of the cocktail waitresses. Not only would I pay you six pounds a week, but if the place takes off, the tips alone would be more than you could ever hope to earn at Tilly’s.’

  ‘And would I be expected to dress like that?’ asked Maisie, pointing to one of the waitresses who was wearing an off-the-shoulder red blouse and a tight-fitting black skirt that barely covered her knees. It amused Maisie that they were the same colours as the St Bede’s uniform.

  ‘Why not? You’re a great-lookin’ broad, and the punters will pay good money to be served by someone like you. You’ll get the odd proposition, of course, but I feel sure you can handle that.’

  ‘What’s the point of a dance floor if it’s a men-only club?’

  ‘Another idea I picked up from the States,’ said Eddie. ‘If you want to dance with one of the cocktail waitresses, it’ll cost you.’

  ‘And what else does that cost include?’

  ‘That’s up to them,’ said Eddie with a shrug of the shoulders. ‘So long as it doesn’t take place on the premises, nothing to do with me,’ he added, laughing a little too loudly. Maisie didn’t laugh. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘I think I’d better be getting home,’ said Maisie. ‘I didn’t have time to let Harry know I’d be late.’

  ‘Whatever you say, honey,’ said Eddie. He draped an arm around her shoulder and led her out of the bar and back up the stairs.

  As he drove her to Still House Lane, he told Maisie about his plans for the future. ‘I’ve already got my eye on a second site,’ he said excitedly, ‘so the sky’s the limit.’

  ‘The sky’s the limit,’ Maisie repeated, as they drew up outside No. 27.

  Maisie jumped out of the car and walked quickly to the front door.

  ‘So will you need a few days to think it over?’ said Eddie, chasing after her.

  ‘No, thank you, Eddie,’ said Maisie without hesitation. ‘I’ve already made up my mind,’ she added, taking a key out of her handbag.

  Eddie grinned and put an arm around her. ‘I didn’t think it would be a difficult decision for you to make.’

  Maisie removed the arm, smiled sweetly and said, ‘It’s kind of you to consider me, honey, but I think I’ll stick to serving coffee.’ She opened her front door before adding, ‘But thanks for asking.’

  ‘Anything you say, doll, but if you change your mind, my door is always open.’

  Maisie closed the door behind her.

  14

  MAISIE FINALLY SETTLED ON the one person she felt she could seek advice from. She decided to turn up at the docks unannounced and hope he’d be around when she knocked on his door.

  She didn’t tell either Stan or Harry who she was visiting. One of them would try to stop her, while the other would feel she’d betrayed a confidence.

  Maisie waited until her day off, and once she had dropped Harry at school, she took a tram to the dockyard. She had chosen her time carefully: late morning, when he was still likely to be in his office, while Stan would be fully occupied loading or unloading cargo at the other end of the dock.

  Maisie told the man on the gate that she’d come to apply for a job as a cleaner. He pointed indifferently towards the redbrick building and still didn’t remember her.

  As she walked towards Barrington House, Maisie looked up at the windows on the fifth floor and wondered which office was his. She recalled her encounter with Mrs Nettles, and the way she had been shown the door the moment she mentioned her name. Now Maisie not only had a job she enjoyed and where she was respected, but she’d had two other offers in the past few days. She didn’t give Mrs Nettles another thought as she walked straight past the building and continued along the quayside.

  Maisie didn’t slacken her pace until she could see his home. She found it hard to believe that anyone could possibly live in a railway carriage, and began to wonder if she’d made a dreadful mistake. Had Harry’s stories of a dining room, a bedroom and even a library, been exaggerated? ‘You can’t stop now you’ve come this far, Maisie Clifton,’ she told herself, and knocked boldly on the carriage door.

  ‘Come in, Mrs Clifton,’ said a gentle voice.

  Maisie opened the door to find an old man sitting in a comfortable seat, with books and other possessions scattered around him. She was surprised how clean the carriage was, and realized that, despite Stan’s claims, it was she, and not Old Jack, who lived in third class. Stan had perpetuated a myth that had been ignored when viewed through the eyes of an unprejudiced child.

  Old Jack immediately rose from his place and beckoned her towards the seat opposite. ‘You’ll have come to see me about young Harry, no doubt.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Tar,’ she replied.

  ‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘You can’t make up your mind whether he should go to St Bede’s, or remain at Merrywood Elementary.’

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’ asked Maisie.

  ‘Because I’ve been considering the same problem for the past month,’ said Old Jack.

  ‘So what do you think he should do?’

  ‘I think that despite the many difficulties he will undoubtedly face at St Bede’s, if he doesn�