CHAPTER 19
Jess settled into life at The Navigation as if she had been born to it. She was up at seven every morning to start her cleaning regime before anyone else surfaced, and in this role she had plenty of experience. She wiped down the bar tops, vacuumed and mopped the floors in all the public areas, cleaned and replenished the toilets and, once a week, cleaned the inside of the windows.
She didn’t have to worry about the kitchen – the KPs did that themselves – nor any crockery, cutlery or glassware, which was routinely loaded into the machines for washing at the end of each session, but there was always a stray item on the floor or in a strange place which needed washing up by hand. She was always done by 9 a.m. and so could have a quick breakfast and go for a walk along the canal before her next shift started at 11.30.
The staff had been generally welcoming and she had a new best friend, Jade, who had shown her all the workings of the bar and restaurant: laying tables, clearing tables, taking orders, understanding the meal tickets and the “pass” in the kitchen, and learning how to use the electronic point of sale system and the espresso machine. The girl called Alice had rapidly become adept at waitressing and curiously warmed to people, staff and customers in a way Jess never could. Within a week she was an established member of the crew.
It was Friday morning and Jess and Trish were in the office. Trish was pleased with her and was smiling broadly. Her new waif and stray had been a godsend, vastly exceeding her expectations. She had someone reliable to do the cleaning – the girl actually enjoyed it! – and after rent had been deducted for occupying the scruffiest room in the building, she was very cheap. Alice would have tips as well, of course, and as she had no expenses, she should be perfectly content with her pittance of a wage. Everyone was happy. She handed over a brown envelope.
“Here you are. Tips in there, too. You done well this week. I’m impressed.” Jess burst into a big smile and took the envelope. Trish lowered her voice and leant forward a little.
“Look. There’s no payslip. You’re off-grid. Thought you might prefer it that way and it suits me too. Just don’t mention it to anyone, okay? Shouldn’t do it really. Check you’re happy with the money.”
Keeping her off the books was not strictly legal, but she knew Alice was not her real name and demanding a National Insurance number might precipitate a crisis that she wanted to avoid for now. Her priority was to keep the place running smoothly, and not only had Alice proven herself to be highly capable, she seemed to be enjoying her job. The brewery would not be happy if they knew, but because turnover and profits were on or above target, she and Dave were left alone to run the place as they saw fit; and if that meant cutting a few corners here and there, Trish was sure they would turn a blind eye to what she regarded as a minor transgression. Anyway, all pubs and restaurants needed a bit of casual labour from time to time. It was the only way some of them could stay alive.
Jess peered in at the contents and her eyes widened at the bundle of cash.
“Thanks!” she gushed. Trish was genuinely happy for her, it seemed like the ideal arrangement, and within a week Alice had transformed from the shambling wreck of a girl who had walked through the door into an enthusiastic and bubbly member of staff. But she knew there was potential for danger and felt compelled to ask.
“Well, week one over and done. How’re you getting on with Dave?”
“He’s nice. Everyone’s nice.”
Trish was relieved to hear it but couldn’t help herself. Alice needed to be warned.
“Well, watch yourself. Wandering hands …” Jess’s smile began to drop. “Wandered over me, once,” said Trish, reminiscing momentarily before getting back to business. “Go on, then. Work to do!” she said with mock severity and Jess turned, smiling again. Trish watched her go. Nice girl. I wonder what story she has to tell. We’ve all got one, that’s for sure. Thank God Dave is behaving.
***
It was a warm Wednesday afternoon. Jess was sitting by the canal watching the boats go by, seemingly lost in thought. Trish was thoughtful too. She stood at the window looking out at the girl sitting on the grass, wondering what was going through her head. She sensed someone slide up behind her and look over her shoulder and knew immediately who it was. “Strange girl,” she said out loud to no one in particular. Dave scratched his nose.
“Yeah. She’s definitely got a hang-up or two.”
“She don’t say much. Never gives anything away.”
“You’ll have to get to the bottom of it.”
“Not yet. Don’t want to freak her out.”
“I could have a word,” he said casually
“You, will leave her alone,” snapped Trish, and although she didn’t have eyes in the back of her head, she could tell Dave was making a face.
***
Jess was busy stacking bottles in the saloon bar fridge. It was 11.30 a.m. and the pub was coming to life. There was the usual clattering of pots and pans and excitable chatter wafting out from the kitchen, and Jade was in the restaurant with two other girls, setting up for the lunchtime session. Dave appeared from around the other side of the bar and shuffled forward to where Jess was crouched in front of the bottle cabinet.
“Y’know, me and Trish are well pleased with you, Alice,” he said. She stood up and smiled at him, looking slightly embarrassed. Compliments had always been few and far between for Jess.
“Thanks, Dave, I’m grateful to you and Trish for giving me a chance.” It sounded lame but it was true. She was still a little apprehensive about being around Dave. She didn’t know what it was about him, but she always felt like he was looking at her strangely, making her ill at ease. Maybe it was the way he smiled at her, which always seemed forced or unnatural. Or maybe he just thought that he had to maintain a sense of superiority over his staff. She wasn’t the only one to feel a little unnerved; some of the other girls did too. It was irrational, she knew, but above all she didn’t want to say or do anything that might antagonise him.
“Yeah, well. It’s hard to get good staff. Especially English ones.” Dave was nothing if not patriotic, but evidently felt he had to explain himself.
“Don’t get me wrong, there’s nuffing wrong with yer Poles and yer Slovaks and that. Good workers. Knows their stuff. But they can be a bit bolshie, if you get my drift. Always pickin’ on this and that, moaning about the wages and the tips. And no sense of humour. Don’t get me wrong” he said again “nuffing against them as such, but they’re just not like us, are they?”
Jess always tried to agree with Dave as it was the safest option, but on the subject of the relative merits and work ethics of different nationalities, she had no view. Instinctively she thought his sweeping generalisations misguided, to say the least, and she was unsure how to respond to this, but mercifully, his rant was largely rhetorical and he went on, turning inquisitive.
“Whereas you … you’re a bit of a mysterious enigma, you are. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Just gets on with it. I like that. More to you than meets the eye, I reckon.”
Jess was suddenly nervous about where this one-sided conversation was going. Dave seemed to be showing an interest in her for the first time, and if she were to draw up a list of people to whom she might open up, he would probably be somewhere near the bottom. She smiled meekly and tried to busy herself around the bar.
“Thing is, I ain’t seen you have a proper laugh yet, Alice. Is there anything up? Anything I can help you with?”
It sounded innocuous, but there was something in the tone of his voice she found disturbing, as if he already knew something about her and was simply waiting for her confirmation, playing with her, provoking a reaction for no reason other than to see her react. Jess shook her head and shrugged. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her past, and he was the last person she wanted to discuss it with.
“Nothing’s up. I just keep myself to myself, I suppose.” Dave studied her closely and she felt a chill of discomfort she hadn’t felt for several weeks. He took a step closer and she had to fight the urge to flinch or step back. He put one hand on the bar, leant in towards her and lowered his voice.
“Well, if anything’s bothering you, if you ever want to talk about anything, private and confidential, like,” – he touched the side of his nose with one finger – “talk to Dave. Ain’t no problem that can’t be solved. Seen ‘em all in this business. Nothing’s going to shock or surprise me,” he announced with certitude, brushing past to get to the reservations book at the other end of the bar, but so closely she had to breathe in.
He flicked the pages and ran his finger down the list. “Now then. Party of twelve coming in for lunch today. British Legion Annual reunion. Oh dear, oh dear. Bunch of old geezers,” he scoffed. Jess wasn’t sure what he meant. “Now you watch yourself with them.” He wagged a finger at her. “One of ‘em ‘ll try and touch you up.”
She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Was he really warning her to be vigilant in case an elderly customer made advances, or worse? She frowned and, for a moment, looked alarmed; not at the threat itself, but at the warning and the way it had been delivered.
“I’ll be watching,” he made an attempt to reassure her, “but tell me if you get any hassle – I’ll sort ‘em out.” Jess decided it was time to go and fill the ice buckets.
***
MV Carician was moored close to the Biddington bridge, swaying gently backwards and forwards in the current as the river flowed south or as another boat passed by. The weather was warm and sunny, the trees were green and the sound of birdsong jostled with the lap of the water against the hull.
Peter sat on the rear deck, reading yesterday’s Times, a glass of white wine on the table before him. He had been out for a few days and his old lady, a Bates Starcraft of forty years vintage, had not let him down, so far.
Once he had charged the batteries and got the twin Volvos throbbing back to life, he had stocked up on provisions, locked the old house and taken off upriver. He didn’t know how long he would be away, but it didn’t matter. He just needed to escape. Clear his head. Think about what he was going to do next.
He hadn’t given it any thought so far; he was too busy doing nothing, as the saying went. His biggest task was deciding what he would have for supper. In the absence of a decent hostelry at his evening moorings, it would be beans on toast. Again. No matter. He slurped a mouthful of Sauvignon Blanc and put down his glass next to his phone. It rang. Bugger. Should have switched it off. Probably another PPI call or some other crank. He looked at the screen. Michael Goodman. He smiled and swiped the green blob with his index finger.
“Michael! How the devil are you?”
“Very well, thanks, Peter. Are you fit?”
“Yes, thanks, couldn’t be better. Just messing about on the river, as it happens. Thought I would get away for a few days in the warm weather.”
“Lucky for some,” mused Michael, and Peter could imagine him sitting at his desk, surrounded by papers and folders, and decided to have a poke at his old friend.
“Perks of retirement, old boy. You ought to try it sometime,” he scoffed.
“Some of us still have to prop up the economy, old boy. Earn a crust, pay for those little necessities in life,” said Michael with mock weariness. Peter latched onto it immediately.
“Ah yes, there is that. And how is the lovely lady then? Still spending your money?” He enjoyed being provocative, but they had known each other for long enough and he knew Michael would see the joke. Michael and Emma were his oldest friends. Perhaps his only friends, and he loved them as family. “Well, give her a big hug from me. We must get together sometime.” There was a pause before Michael answered.
“That’s actually why I was calling. Since you got back from Nepal,” he said carefully, “I have been looking at your situation and I think it’s time we had a review.” Peter’s smile dissolved as Michael spoke, and the dread came flooding back.
“It breaks my heart to think about it,” he said, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice, “but in the circumstances, another look might be in order. You’re right, Michael, as always.” He sighed.
“When do you expect to be home?”
“Early next week, I suppose. Rather depends on the weather. I’ll call you then and we’ll set up a meeting.”
“Okay. Have a good trip, Peter, bye for now.”
“Bye. Oh, and love to Emma.”
***
The old soldiers and sailors from the British Legion were charming. They came dressed in their berets and regimental blazers adorned with medals. They were polite, disciplined and respectful of their surroundings and all the young waitresses who served them their three-course lunch. They drank modestly, conducted themselves with good humour, and Jess enjoyed serving and chatting to them all over the course of the afternoon.
One or two of them were veterans of WWII and to her that may as well have been ancient history, like the Romans and the Greeks she had read about at school. But she felt at ease with this group of old gentlemen, more so than she had ever thought before, and she couldn’t understand why Dave had been so disparaging about them.
The oldest member of the group was well into his nineties, and although he walked with some difficulty and needed a stick, he insisted on getting himself back to the bus without resorting to the wheelchair they had brought with them for emergencies. Jess could see he was unsteady on his feet and she took his arm as they walked slowly down the sloping path to the car park where the bus was waiting.
The old boy climbed the steps to the minibus and, raising his stick in triumph, received a rousing “Hurrah” from his comrades. The driver slammed the sliding door shut and the bus moved off, Jess smiling and waving a fond farewell. She turned and strode back to the pub, pleased with herself. The pub and restaurant were largely empty now and she found Dave leaning against the bar, looking decidedly grumpy.
“That went well,” she said, still buzzing from the excitement of it all and the pleasure she had got from the many compliments she had received. Dave was not so happy.
“See, Alice. Was I right, or was I right?” he said truculently.
“What?” She was genuinely puzzled. She had no idea what he was talking about and feared she may have done something to displease him.
“I saw old squadron leader whatshisname with his arm round you, having a good feel, randy old bastard,” he grunted. Jess was a bit shocked but relieved; it was just a misunderstanding.
“Oh, no, he has trouble walking. I was just helping him on the bus.”
But Dave was having none of it.
“Don’t give me that,” he sneered, “he can walk, all right. He tried that with Olga when she was here, and she didn’t half slap him one.” Jess’s smile had vanished. “Had to let her go, of course. Can’t be having that, slapping the punters.”
Trish appeared from behind him.
“Ain’t that right, Trish? That Russian girl Olga gave old Douglas Bader a poke in the eye last time he was here.” Trish seemed to take a moment to work out what her idiot husband was going on about and then gave him a withering look.
“Czech.”
“Check what?”
“She was Czech, and her name was Katya.” Jess almost snorted trying to stifle a laugh.
“Yeah, well. Whatever,” said Dave. “We had to let her go, didn’t we?”
“She walked out, if you remember.” Trish tried to correct him but it was futile.
“Yeah – before she got the order of the boot.” She raised her eyebrows and shook her head then turned to Jess and put a friendly hand on her shoulder.
“Well done, Alice. I think you made an impression today.”
“I think I need a lie down after that,” said Jess, face beaming with pleasure at the compliment but also at Dave’s twisted expression, and with that they parted, leaving Dave huffing and puffing at the bar.
***
It was 11.45 p.m. The evening shift was over and all the staff had either gone home or upstairs to sleep, apart from Jess who was wiping down the saloon bar. She would only have to do it in the morning if she didn’t do it now. Dave strolled in from the empty restaurant as she was trying to stifle a yawn with one hand.
“All right, Alice?” he said as she quickly took her hand away.
“Yes, just tired. It’s been a busy day.”
“Welcome to 24/7 hospitality – no rest for the wicked!”
“Oh, I’m enjoying it” she protested. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was complaining or not up to the task.
Dave had hung back after his wife had gone up, saying he wanted to check on the cellar cooling and review the proposed new menu. He had really wanted to have a quiet word with Alice when no one was about, and this seemed to him like an ideal opportunity. He had made several attempts at ingratiating himself with her, but his jokes had always gone over her head and his little asides and quips had fallen on deaf ears.
She was just like the others, he thought. The foreigners had the excuse that they couldn’t be expected to understand good English humour, but even that Aussie bird Jade had given him short shrift. Admittedly, he did put his arm around her waist once to give her a friendly squeeze and the girl had firmly removed it, suggesting that he “keep his fucking hands to himself”, so he had got the message and stayed well away from that one, permanently filed in the “too difficult” category. There were easier mountains to climb.
But Alice was a difficult animal altogether. She was quiet, enigmatic and had an air of vulnerability which he thought was a turn on, just the sort he liked best. So far, she hadn’t given any indication that she was motivated by money or in any way dissatisfied with her job or pay, but he wondered whether perhaps a few words of praise accompanied by a small reward might smooth the way. She would see that he not only valued her as a worker but was kind and generous too.
“Now look, like I said before. You’ve been brilliant.” Her eyes lit up and he was instantly encouraged. She turned to face him and spread her arms across the width of the bar.
“Thanks, Dave.” She looked pleased and a little embarrassed, and that especially gave him a thrill. He took a step forward and lowered his voice to just above a whisper.
“Now listen. Trish normally does the wages” – he looked from side to side to make sure they were alone – “but I think you deserve a bit of a bonus for all the work you’ve done.” Jess looked surprised and delighted by the compliment.
“You don’t need to do that, Dave. I’m just happy to be here.”
“I do need to do that,” insisted Dave. “I want to,” he said emphatically, and to add gravitas, “I own the business, it’s my money and I can do what I want with it. So I’m going to give you a bit extra.” He watched with satisfaction as she appeared to wilt under his piercing stare and then give in.
“Well, if you really want to. Thanks, Dave.” He took another step and his voice got lower still.
“Yeah, well. Just don’t tell Trish. Don’t want her thinking I got any favourites” – he slid his left hand on top of her right wrist, and she looked down, instantly alarmed – “even if I do.” She swivelled her head to her other wrist as his right hand alighted there. She jerked her head up. Her smile had gone as quickly as his had arrived. It was only a second or two, but she tugged both hands free and he frowned at her as she stepped back.
“Goodnight, Dave,” she said and backed out of the bar. Dave watched her go, annoyed she hadn’t responded and a little worried he may have gone too far. But he had to be sanguine about it. There would be another chance. Soon.
“Goodnight, Alice” he whispered to himself, smirking. “Sleep tight.”
***
Jess tried to stay out of his way for the next few days and made sure never to be caught in a situation alone with him again. She told herself she was overreacting. They had both said how much they valued her, and although she knew their words of praise were reward enough, she should not be surprised if at least one of them backed it up with something tangible.
Dave was a funny guy in many respects. She had always thought of him as a harmless, cack-handed buffoon and it was Trish who really ran the show. But she didn’t feel he was genuinely affable; she felt there was an ulterior motive behind his actions, and he had said some things that made her and the others feel uncomfortable.
What had Trish said? “Watch yourself, wandering hands.” She hadn’t fully understood what she meant at the time. Maybe Dave was just a tactile person for whom it was natural to show friendship and affection by placing a hand on the shoulder or arm, or wrist. In which case Jess was worried that she may have gone down in his estimation, may have offended him such that he might tell Trish and they both might look at her in a less favourable light in future.
She didn’t want to appear unfriendly or ungrateful but when he had touched her that night, she had felt fear, a fear she had not known for a long time and certainly never before at The Navigation. It’ll be fine, she told herself. It was just an awkward situation and best forgotten about.
She confided in Jade one night when the pub was quiet. “Ah, we’ve all had that. Dave’s just a prize arsehole,” Jade had said, “thinks he’s a babe magnet.” They had both laughed at that. “He’s easy to deal with, he backs off as soon as you let him know what’s what.” The trouble with that, Jess thought, was she was not one for asserting herself. But she had rebuffed his advances, if that’s what they were, and he hadn’t bothered her again since.
She was now in her fourth week at The Navigation and she had put the incident firmly behind her. She entertained no thoughts about leaving. She was comfortable in her work and wanted it to continue indefinitely but always knew that one day she would have to move on. All things come to an end.
One evening, at the end of her shift, she was climbing the stairs to her tiny room, undoing her apron as she walked, and met Trish coming down.
“You off now?” said Trish.
“Yes, if that’s okay.” It was after midnight so she didn’t really need to ask, but she was perfectly willing and able to do another job for Trish if it needed doing.
“Yes, of course. Get some rest, lots of bookings tomorrow. Goodnight.” They passed on the stairs with a smile.
Before Trish had taken another step, she stopped.
“Oh, by the way” – Jess turned to look down the stairway at her – “I put a bottle of perfume and some other bits in your room. Dave gave it me a while back and it really doesn’t suit me. If you don’t like it, just bin it, but I ain’t going to use it.”
“Thanks,” said Jess. She was touched by that. Perfume? What else? She hadn’t worn perfume or make-up … well … ever, and she wondered what else Trish had left. She went upstairs to bed. She would have something to look forward to in the morning.
Trish watched Jess go. She quite liked the perfume really, but as soon as he had told her it was what one of his old girlfriends used to wear, she went right off it. Tosser! But she wanted to be kind to Alice and the girl always looked a bit dowdy compared to the others. And sometimes she could detect a faint whiff of disinfectant or cleaning fluid, especially in the mornings. Probably from the chemicals, but it did her no favours. Nice to do something for the staff.
***
“No you ain’t!” Joe is screaming at her in rage and he’s grabbed her arm. “Not with no fucking Paki you ain’t.” Madge is behind him clinging on to his other arm which is raised and about to hit Jess and she’s waiting for the blow, but he’s big and he’s strong and instead he whips his arm free, whirls around and punches Madge on the side of the head, “Geroff!” and she tries to grab the sideboard on the way down but hits her chin instead and lands on the floor in a heap. His eyes are bloodshot and wild and there’s foam around his mouth and he stinks of sweat and booze. “No daughter of mine is going with no fuckin’ Paki, you hear me? It ain’t fuckin’ happenin’, all right? I’ll beat seven bags of shit out of him and then … oi! Bitch!” And then she’s wrestled herself free and she’s crashing out the room and he’s behind her but he’s drunk so he falls over the edge of the sofa and there’s a banging on the wall from next door, “Shut up, Butlers!” and she’s reached the front door, but the bolts are done up and she grabs them but they’re stuck and she can’t move them and she’s panicking, terrified she can’t get out before he gets up and grabs her and then the top bolt springs loose and then the bottom one and the door flies open and bangs the wall and she’s out in the street, in the cold night air, running, running for her life … running to Mo.
Jess woke and after a moment, realising where she was, wiped her brow and got out of bed. The window shutter had opened and was banging in the wind. She breathed in the night air and exhaled a cloud of condensing breath. You’ll be all right here.