I back away without a word, sliding into my assigned spot against the wall. Once I am there, I drop my chin, the picture of humility. Lucky for me, her attention is caught by something that someone in her party has said, and I hear her chuckling self-consciously with her friend. Only then do I dare look, and that’s when I see my ploy worked. When she faced me, she let the young waiter go. He has moved on and is finishing his job at the table. He is also watching me covertly. He knows exactly what I did.
I hope no one else noticed. I hate to think what Mrs. Evans might say. But still, I’m awfully glad I did it.
The rest of the night passes without incident, which is a great relief. I could sleep standing up, so I could. Sure, all I did was stand motionless, never mind all the work we’d done earlier, but still. I’m knackered.
At last, Mr. Burke escorts the final guests out, thanking them for coming and smoothly inviting them back the next day to view the rest of the hotel. At his suggestion, they stroll through the lobby with lazy smiles, lulled by the fine food, the music, and the champagne toast at the end of the evening, and when they step out the front door, into the bustle of Front Street, they are already glowing with memories.
The rest of us stand silently in place, waiting for instructions. Bartenders, waiters, and bellboys have come to stand with us. I hear the clattering of dishes being washed beyond the ballroom.
“Well done, everyone,” Mr. Burke announces in a booming voice, striding into the room. I’m glad he’s addressing us now. It means we can go home soon. “You have helped to make tonight a great success. Thank you for all your work.”
We’re all of us tired beyond belief. No need to say a word about it, for ’tis plain to see in our glazed stares. My feet are fair burning, Kiera is slumped in place, and I notice Deirdre is limping from a blister. We’ll have to bind that up before she heads home, because we’re meant to be back here bright and early in the morning.
The waiter from before is standing in the corner of the room with the others, and he is watching me. He’s a fine-looking, tall fella, and from the tightness of his shirt across his shoulders, I’m guessing he’s strong. His hair is light coloured, almost orange, like so many of us Irish. Somehow, I missed out on that bit of the craic. My own hair is long and black and dull as ditchwater compared to his. Even from here I can see how green his eyes are. His smile grows seeing mine, and I am fair startled to feel a flip in my chest. Well now. That cannot happen, I tell myself. The last thing I need in my life is a man. I must keep this job. Any sort of carrying-on would only be a distraction.
chapterFOUR
We are dismissed. The other chambermaids and myself, we flee to our room to get changed. I wrap my coat around my sweater and swap out for my regular shoes, then I’m out the staff door, inhaling cool, fresh air. I’m a few steps along the sidewalk when I hear a voice behind me.
“Beg pardon, miss, did you drop your napkin?”
I see that brazen grin again, and his hair looks nearly blond under the streetlamps. As tempted as I am to wait, I keep walking. He, apparently, is not easily shaken off. I hear his brogues catching up. When I can ignore him no longer, I stop.
“Wanted to thank you,” he says.
The rascal is even more handsome up close. How confident he appears outside of the hotel, no longer invisible. His skin is the pale sort on most of the Irish lads I know, with freckles across his face. I’ve always liked freckles. Da says a face without freckles is like a sky without stars. His light stubble is barely there, but I see it. Gone is the young fella’s neat suit and waistcoat. He’s got on a loose white shirt that’s seen better days, braces hold up his trousers, and he’s got an old, battered fedora on his head.
“You’re welcome.”
He twists his mouth a bit. “No telling what that woman was up to.”
I have a pretty good idea, don’t I? I’m sure he does, too. The lad’s no spring chicken, as much as he plays coy. From the sass in his expression, I can tell he’s a ladies’ man. I do not want to weaken, but there goes my stomach again, warm in all the right places. Even worse because I’m hungry.
“Have a good night,” I say, walking again, but I know he’ll follow. He has that manner to him.
“Where you off to?”
“Where do you think? Home to eat and sleep, then back here again.”
“What will you eat?”
I scowl at him. “Don’t be daft.”
“I ask because I’ve something you might like.”
He holds out a bag, like he’s presenting it to me. When he opens it, I smell the kitchen.
My hunger must show on my face, because he chuckles, confident now. Cheeky lad, he is.
“Follow me. Let me show you.”
Granny’d be shaking her head at me, but God help me, I do. I stop short when he heads into an alley, but he only smiles.
“I may look like trouble, miss, but I’ve no ill wishes toward you. It’s only I grabbed a bit of dinner from tonight, see?” He cocks his head. “Every plate I carried out smelled better than anything I’ve had before.”
I’m shook some by his nerve. Stealing food is punishable by firing. Maybe worse. I don’t know the truth of it. “That’s reckless. What was in your head?”
“Only that I wanted to thank you right proper. Maybe take you out for a fine dinner.” He lifts the bag again, his eyes laughing. “May I show you to your table, miss?”
