A Cheat and a Liar, page 6
The large kitchen had two long tables, which seemed to allow the inhabitants to prepare food. No meals were provided, so guests seemed to wake early, go to the kitchen, and prepare whatever they had bought for their breakfast and probably lunch. There was a coal range, which heated that area of the house and was used for cooking whenever anyone felt enthused enough to do so. The mornings were a little chilly, and Doug found it nice to spend time in the kitchen early in the morning and keep warm whilst making something to eat. It turned out there was a wet-back heating system connected to the coal range, which heated water for baths and washing clothes, and an open-fire in the next room could also heat water. With the twenty-odd people who could stay there at any one time, Doug could not imagine how everyone managed to keep clean. There were three bathrooms, but he imagined if half the borders wanted a bath at about the same time, the hot water available could be quickly gone.
I won’t stay here long, he told himself. I will have a look around the city and then decide what to do. I should really be looking for work, but best I find somewhere better to stay and then make a few decisions. He was deep in thought. He was in Auckland. He had to make up his mind and get on with it. He would stay another day and then get out of the god-forbidden place.
Since he had arrived, he had wondered what he could see and decided to buy a newspaper and see what work is on offer, but, first, he had to move. A small house would be ideal, if I can find one to rent, but a better quality boarding house or a moderately priced hotel is what I need right now. This is well below what I ever dreamed I would stay in, he told himself. I must have been crazy not to have turned around the minute I walked in.
The place was shabby, tired, and in need of upgrading. Some of those who resided there seemed to have been there a long time—a year or more. Many of the people that Doug guessed were around his age, although he hoped he looked better, tidier, and more aware of his appearance than most of them. They looked as if they never changed their clothes from one day to the next; never washed, nor did their hair. Three-quarters of them were male smokers, drinkers, and layabouts. He didn’t think any of them worked. Doug often wondered how they paid their way in life and how it was that most had not been asked to leave, because he couldn’t image how they could ever afford rent. The second evening he was there, he was sitting in the lounge trying to see if he could get any conversation out of a guy who was probably about fifty years old.
‘What do you do to earn a living and pay for food and drink, and what’s your name?’ Doug asked.
‘Oh, I’m Joe,’ said the poorly dressed, half-intoxicated tramp. ‘If I find a paying job, I do it, and when I’ve made a few bob, I usually stop, ’cos I get a bit tired, and I like my free time, ya know, and sometimes my mate will turn up with things he’s found, and I knock them off around town. I am forced to do a bit of nicking myself, if nobody’s looking, as long as I don’t get caught; I know people say . . . “Crime doesn’t pay, but the hours are good”, and then he laughed at himself and coughed into his hand and then struggled to get his hand into his pocket for a handkerchief.
Other than the male inhabitants, there were seven or eight females living in the place as well; plus there was old Dimp, who, it seemed, was the cook for those that couldn’t, and she would evidently do washing for those that wouldn’t, and they probably didn’t have a change of clothes anyway.
Doug imagined they would probably go to bed, and Dimp would waddle in when the washing was done. He smiled to himself when he briefly thought of her hopping into the half-drunk’s bed at delivery time, probably to make an extra shilling or so for herself. A wry smile crept across his face.
There were two poorly dressed women whose hair went way down past their shoulders, and it looked like it hadn’t seen a brush since they left home twenty years or so ago. There were a couple of younger women who may have been twenty-five to thirty, and the first time Doug saw them, they seemed to have brought a friend with them, another female, and possibly a little younger but equally as rough and poorly dressed. One of the women approached Doug and said their friend had nowhere to stay. The first two said they were sharing a room and the single bed and then asked Doug if he would let their friend sleep in his bed. ‘She’ll be nice to you every night, to pay her share of the rent,’ she said.
Doug had had enough. He had to make a decision. Best I leave now, he said to himself, and right then, he made the decision to leave. He went up to his room. He had a plan. He put everything into his suitcase, cleaned his teeth, brushed his hair, and put on his hat, and, after locking the door to his room, he headed downtown.
Doug walked as briskly as he could. Whenever he had an idea, he always seemed to move faster than was usual for him. He noticed the change that new enthusiasm brought about, and it made him smile and walk even faster. He was soon in downtown Auckland, and, still, his packed suitcase did not seem heavy.
He stopped a well-dressed gentleman (solicitor, Doug told himself), apologised for any inconvenience, and said, ‘Excuse me, sir. I only arrived in this city a day or so ago, and I am looking for a menswear shop where I might purchase myself some clothing. Have you somewhere you would suggest?’
‘Yes,’ said the man, ‘just follow on down and on the right-hand side, you will see two or three that might be worthwhile.’
‘Thank you again, and good morning,’ said Doug, tipping his hat at the same time, and strode off to see what he could find.
The man was correct. There were in fact the three shops. The first, Doug thought, appeared to provide slightly more casual wear than Doug wanted right now, probably more suited to males in the twenty-to-thirty age bracket.
The shop assistant in Doug’s shop of first choice was very obliging to receive a client so early in the morning. ‘I’m looking to purchase a new suit,’ said Doug.
‘Certainly, sir,’ said the attendant. ‘If you don’t mind, I will just get a tape and measure chest, waist, outer leg, inner leg . . . And are you wanting tweed, navy, charcoal grey?’ and ‘Two-piece or three?’
And so it came about that Doug had a new suit.
‘Now, white shirts,’ said Doug.
‘Certainly, tape, collar size, and fixed collar or removable, sir?’
And it followed that Doug had two new shirts.
‘How about a new overcoat, sir?’ the assistant continued.
‘How about undergarments instead?’ said Doug. ‘And socks,’ added Doug.
And it came to pass that underclothes and socks, were added to the sale. ‘Overcoat now, sir,’ said the assistant.
‘No, I think I will be happy with just what I have,’ said Doug, ‘but perhaps you could show me what felt hats you have available.’
‘Colour, wide/narrow brim, what do you think, sir?’ And although an overcoat was not added, a modern felt hat was.
The account was tallied, Doug paid the assistant, who then asked, ‘Sir, as gratitude for your quite substantial purchase, I am authorised to offer you a gift, so would you like to inspect our wide selection of neckties and choose one you would like to wear with your new suit?’
Doug spent a little time selecting the tie he wanted and then turned and said to the assistant, ‘Sir, I’m excited with my purchases, and because I have an appointment in town in just over an hour, do you think I could trouble you to use one of your changing rooms to put on what I have just purchased?’
It was done. Even the underwear Doug had been wearing was removed and replaced with the new, and the old was placed in the bag.
Of course, Doug had his suitcase, so the suit he had been wearing was put into the box originally used to package the new, and everything else was forced into his case.
Everyone was happy. Doug tipped the brim of his new hat and bid the shop assistant, ‘Good-morning.’ Stage one of his plan was complete. He didn’t exactly know where he was now headed, but he had a few things in mind.
He walked more casually now. He looked like a smartly dressed businessman who had just arrived in town. He was still carrying the suitcase, so the smart businessman was just taking his time, seeing what the big city shops had to offer, as he made his way to his hotel.
As he wandered, he came across exactly what he needed—a laundry run by a Chinese gentleman who took the old suit after Doug had ensured all pockets were empty, took his shirt and underclothes, socks and handkerchiefs, which were all stuffed in the box that had held the new suit previously, looked up at Doug, smiled, and said, ‘All ready for you, sir, same time tomorrow.’ With that, he turned around and disappeared out the back and left Doug standing alone in the shop with a suitcase and an empty cardboard box.
Doug didn’t have a plan and had no idea where he was heading. His usual brisk walk was now a very casual stroll. He reminded himself that he must purchase a newspaper and see what accommodation was on offer, and perhaps from wherever he ended up, he could answer a suitably sounding advertisement by phoning. Yes, that’s what I’ll do, he told himself. Without really any idea of where he had been heading, he eventually ended up in Princes Street and found himself outside the Grand Hotel. What a building. What a sight. He stood and gazed up at the three stories of ornate façade and wrought iron balconies. A couple of nights here won’t break the bank and will certainly be a step up from the rat hole I left this morning, he said to himself.
He felt hesitant. You shouldn’t be doing this, he said to himself. You’ve just arrived in the city, and you are treating yourself to the high life even before you have a new job. A bit of high living—it might be the only chance I ever get. A little bit of the high life before I find somewhere permanent and head back to work and the headaches and stress that can bring.
He stepped inside the hotel and immediately stopped. From the vaulted ceilings to the ornate mantelpieces and the plush red carpet under his feet, Doug had seen some nice buildings but had never seen anything like it in his life. He moved towards the front desk. A beautifully attired lady approached and asked if she could assist. ‘Thank you,’ said Doug and placed his hat on the counter. ‘Would you have a single room available, please?’
The receptionist moved away, opened a large book beside her, ran her finger down the page, looked up at Doug, smiled, and asked, ‘And may I ask your name, please?’
‘Ah, Doug Lawrence, ah, Doug,’ he answered.
‘Thank you, Mr Lawrence, and how many nights will you be with us?’
‘Ah, I’m not exactly sure, I’m sorry,’ said Doug. ‘Ah, what, say, we say three nights? Will there be a problem if I decide to stay a night or two longer than that?’
‘Perhaps, as soon as you know your exact plans, please confirm with us—just to be sure.’
‘Of course,’ Doug replied.
‘Now, just one final matter,’ the lady said. ‘Are you with one of our local companies who will take care of the account, or are you from out of town?’
‘Ah, I’m not local,’ he replied.
‘Then, Mr Lawrence, we do require you to pay for the three nights you require in advance.’
‘Of course, of course,’ said Doug, taken back a little by the request. ‘If you can make up the account, I will pay it now.’
The account was eventually written and handed to Doug, and he paid what was due. He stepped away from the front desk and looked up to admire the architecture and furnishings of the new complex. One of the male attendants stepped up to him, and said, ‘I can see you recognise quality when you see it, sir,’ and then told Doug he was one of the newest guests; just furnished, early 1913, and the large new extension to the hotel was completed just prior to that. ‘New dining room and kitchen, quality portraits by renowned artists from around the world, new plush carpets throughout, and on the way up to your room today, sir, you may ride in our brand-new open-cage lift.’
What have I discovered here? he asked himself. Doug made his way via the new lift to his room; single bed, with beautiful embossed quilt, a wardrobe to one side and an oak dressing table, with drawers, at the end, complete with mirror, and matching oak stool.
He decided he would put some of his clothes in the drawers, hang up his overcoat, and empty out the other items that were in the suitcase and then inspect as much of the premises as he could. Even the overcoat looked shabby in the wardrobe. ‘I should have bought a new one,’ he muttered to himself, but he wasn’t too serious about it. I’ve got a lot of things I want to do, and staying here is probably being more rash than I really should be, he thought.
Doug left the room and decided to see what he could of the hotel. Many paintings adorned the walls in the entranceway and lounge, many by artists of the Royal Academy, and others depicting famous people, like Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh. In the lounge, there was also a magnificent ten-foot-long fireplace surround, with mirror above all beautifully carved by a notable and obviously skilled Maori carver. The whole place, Doug considered, must surely be one of the most magnificent in the country.
While I am here, I might have some lunch, he thought and went to the dining room door and waited to be seated. Doug was shown to a table for two, close to the window, which was nice. He had the strong feeling he had entered another world where everybody wore their ‘Sunday’s best’. It was even better than that; he had attended church on many occasions, and nobody dressed this well; it was almost as if everyone had entered a competition for ‘best dressed’.
Doug was in the dining room of the Grand Hotel, and it was not quite half full. Over one side, a group of six men sat at the one large table, but most of the others were couples, or couples with a child or two, of various ages. There were only himself and one lady over near the door that were sitting by themselves.
The menu had a big selection; Doug guessed it depended on what one had eaten for breakfast, if anything, as to what sized meal was ordered for lunch. He had a small salad, with ham, a croissant, and a pot of tea, which was ample for him.
He took the serviette from his lap, wiped the last of the tea from his mouth and moustache, placed it on the plate, and stood up. As he moved, a couple of the men he passed nodded out of politeness, not recognition, and the lady by the door looked up, smiled with a generous smile, and said ‘Good afternoon!’ confidently. Doug replied and carried on down to the foyer. There, he asked at the front desk what hours the dining room was open for dinner and asked if he needed to book. ‘It is safer to book if you like to eat at a particular time each evening,’ she replied, ‘but, generally, after 8.00 p.m., it starts to empty out, and there is no need. The dining staff stop taking orders during the week at 9.00 p.m., but it doesn’t close until everyone has left,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ said Doug. ‘By the way, is there a spare copy of today’s paper I could take or purchase to read?’ he added.
‘Papers are free at the Grand Hotel,’ she said, turning and presenting a copy to him.
This place is something extra, he thought to himself and made his way to the huge lounge, where he found a seat and started to read the city’s and country’s latest news.
After an hour or so, Doug left the lounge and went back to his room. It was 2.30 p.m., and, at first, he sat on his bed and removed his shoes and then his suit coat and waistcoat. The bed felt great, so he pulled back the quilt and lay down. I’ll just lie here until 3.00 p.m., he told himself and shut his eyes.
Doug awoke with a start. It was almost dark outside. It was just after seven o’clock. He got off the bed, put on his shoes, and left his room to freshen up in the bathroom, just down the passage. He cleaned his teeth, did his hair, washed his hands, and returned to his room. He was going to have dinner, so he put on his waistcoat and jacket, locked the door to his room, and headed for the dining room. It was still more than half full, but there was plenty of room. He stood at the door and waited to be shown to a table. It was a different table for two than what he had sat at for lunch. He put his serviette on his lap and looked to see if there by chance was anybody there that he knew. There wasn’t, and he had not expected to see any such person, but a couple that was in the room at lunchtime he recognised, and the lady who had eaten by herself was again alone at a table for two. Interesting, he thought, I wonder what she is doing in town or, more particularly, doing in the hotel.
Doug ate his meal slowly and, once finished, signed the account and stood up, turned, and walked towards the door. He passed near where the other lone diner was sitting, and as he approached, she looked up. ‘We meet again,’ said Doug, and she smiled. ‘Pardon my asking,’ he said, ‘but are you going to be dining here by yourself tomorrow evening? I hate eating alone, and if you are here, I would much prefer to dine with someone I could chat to,’ he said.
She raised her eyebrows, and Doug was unsure what she was thinking. ‘I’ve been here nearly a week, and I’ve barely spoken to anyone other than staff. If you would like to join me, I would be delighted,’ she said and continued. ‘I shall consider, I have a date, then.’
‘My privilege,’ said Doug, ‘It’s a date. Shall we meet at, say, 7.00 p.m.?’
‘Perfect,’ she replied.
He turned and left, walking briskly as he went. Since he had arrived at the Grand, he had frequently made comparisons between previous events he had experienced in the past and those as they were happening now. Even the brief conversation he had just had with a lady and the females he had encountered at the boarding house were a million miles or a world apart.
Doug got back near his room, checked the bathroom was unoccupied, and then washed and prepared for bed. It’s been a great day, he told himself. ‘Let’s see what tomorrow brings.’
Chapter 6
Stephen turned over onto his back. He tried to open his eyes, but even with curtains closed, everything seemed so bright. His first thought was, Is it Monday? Am I meant to be at work? Why does my throat feel so dry and sore?
