Gracie. Marie Maxwell
her time and money on the renovations of the hotel itself, which had become outdated and tired during the war years.
Despite her young age Ruby Blakeley had been bequeathed it nearly two years before in 1952, and Gracie, who had previously helped out there in between her own shifts at the Palace Hotel, now worked alongside her as manageress and general dogsbody, doing the job that Ruby herself used to do. But because it was a small hotel with few staff they both did anything and everything that needed doing around the hotel; they worked hard and had long hours but they both loved what they did and worked together well.
The Thamesview Hotel was not only Gracie’s workplace, it was also her home and she loved it there.
‘Where shall we live when we’re married?’ Sean suddenly asked, still looking ahead into the dark distance of the Thames Estuary
‘Dunno. We’ll have to start looking for somewhere but it’ll have to be somewhere near to both hotels. There are some nice small flats around the back here …’ Gracie felt a slight feeling of anxiety rise within her. She really couldn’t imagine leaving the hotel and Ruby; it was another thing she hadn’t given enough thought to when she had excitedly accepted Sean’s proposal.
‘Mind, you won’t be working here for long after we’re wed. You’re to be my wife and then, please God, the babies will come along. We’re going to need to look in Southend itself, near the Palace, near to where I work. My job has to come first, especially now I’m to get another promotion.’
Sean paused and smiled reassuringly before leaning over and kissing his new fiancée lightly on the lips.
‘It’ll be grand having our own lives, you’ll see. Maybe Ruby will see you right for everything you’ve done for her. As I said, a big bonus payment for services over and above. You’re entitled, you know, and we’ll need all the money we can get.’
Gracie smiled back, but said nothing. She knew Sean simply didn’t realise what a wrench it was going to be for her to move out.
That night as Gracie lay in her bed wide awake and deep in thought, she tried to envisage her new life with Sean in their own home, hopefully with a baby. It was all she had dreamed about, ever since the day she had had to give up her firstborn baby son forever. Gracie was excited at the prospect of making a home and a family with Sean, but she also felt nervous at the thought of such a complete change in her life. The euphoria of the day had been tinged with regret and while she wanted everything Sean was offering her, she also didn’t want to give up what she had.
Gracie went to sleep that night on the horns of a dilemma that she hoped would quickly resolve itself.
Feeling apprehensive, she stood on the edge of the pavement on the other side of the road and watched for a few moments, bracing herself to take the next step. As always, her stomach churned nervously; she wanted to turn and walk away as she had done on the previous occasion.
But this time Gracie knew she had to follow through so she stood perfectly still and gathered her emotions. As she breathed deeply she studied the man directly opposite her who was kneeling on a rolled-up newspaper, methodically tending the flower bed that edged a neat bungalow.
He was noticeably older and rounder, and his hair was thinner than when she’d last seen him, but there was no disputing who he was. Just looking at him nurturing his plants with his pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth, she could tell he was still a gentle soul. She felt immense guilt at the fact that she rarely saw him or any of her family any more, but she found it just too hard to be confronted with things from the past that she wanted to bury.
She crossed the road and stopped at the edge of the tiny front garden.
‘Hello Dad,’ Gracie said quietly. ‘How are you?’
Fred McCabe looked up from his gardening and smiled up at his daughter, his obvious pleasure at the sight of her increasing her guilt at having left it so long.
‘Gracie! Hello my dear,’ he said with joy in his voice as he stood up. ‘It’s so nice to see you. I thought you’d forgotten about your old dad, it’s been so long …’
Gracie looked sheepish. ‘I know, I’m sorry, but …’ she paused. ‘Well, you know what it’s like, it’s just easier to stay away and let things lie. I’m a bit of a coward under fire.’
‘I know what you mean dear, but it probably makes things worse,’ he said kindly. ‘Maybe if we didn’t only see you once in a blue moon your mother would have come round a bit more.’
‘I tried that …’ Gracie started.
‘I know but I don’t think you appreciate how hard it was for your mother. But no one knows about it here so perhaps there’s hope.’
‘But no one knew about it where we were before, she just thought they did,’ Gracie felt compelled to reply.
‘I know,’ Fred McCabe said with a gentle smile. ‘But your mother has always worried about the neighbours, and her mother before her; it’s the way of her side of the family. My way is live and let live. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone and all that.’
‘You could have come to see me; you know where I live, you all know where I live. It was hard at the Palace, I grant you, but the Thamesview is different,’ Gracie paused, suddenly aware that she was being defensive again. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t go on, I know! But it’s nice to see you now and I’ve got something to tell you, some good news …’
‘All in good time, Gracie, all in good time.’ Fred McCabe interrupted her quickly. ‘Your mother’s inside but your sisters are both out gallivanting, what with it being the weekend. You are coming in, aren’t you? Not just passing by?’
‘If you want me to … if Mum won’t mind. I want to talk to you.’
‘When we get inside. Mustn’t leave your mother out, eh?’ Fred smiled at his eldest daughter and patted her shoulder affectionately.
‘It’s nice round here, all peaceful and homely,’ Gracie said, putting off the moment she would have to face her mother once again. She looked around at the small, neat estate of pre-fabricated bungalows that had been erected just after the war to house many of the local residents who had been bombed out of their own homes. The small properties were all identical in design and colour but most showed their inhabitants’ identity via the lace curtains at the windows and flowers in the postage stamp-sized front gardens.
‘It’s really handy for everything,’ Gracie continued. ‘Blimey, you’ve got the buses on the doorstep and shops round the corner; and the airport within spitting distance for you.’
‘We were lucky to get housed here, what with me working at the airport. Now I walk over the road and there I am. I can even pop home for lunch if the mood takes me, and the pub is just down the road for when I need it.’
He laughed and Gracie joined in conspiratorially, even though she knew her father had never touched a drop of alcohol in his life. His only vice was the familiar old brown pipe that was either clamped between his teeth or in his hand being emptied and refilled almost ritualistically. At night it was always placed upside down in the large chipped glass ashtray that lived on the draining board. Gracie wondered nostalgically if it was still there in the new place or if her mother had succeeded in banishing it outside.
‘And I have a shed! It’s not big enough to turn round in but I’ve always wanted one,’ her dad said, grinning.
‘That’s good, Dad. You deserve it.’
‘I don’t know about deserve it but it’s nice to have my own little hidey-hole after a lifetime of living with all you girls,’ he laughed.
‘How are the twins?’ Gracie asked. ‘I saw Jenny some time back – I bumped into her in the