Chapter 193.
Once in Lavinia’s car, Timothy turned to her.
“Who were they? And why was that other girl wearing that hood fing? Are they friends of Nicole’s? How do they know Bobby?”
“Oh, Kaiya and Barbara. Yes. Miss Poole once employed them as maids - that’s to say waitresses – at one of the Centre’s parties. Then they sort of, er, helped out at another party. Sort of acted as Bobby’s chaperones…”
“Chaperones?”
“Well, I don’t know, friends, whatever… Anyway, you can ask Bobby about it. He knows them better than me. Sounds like you’re going to meet them yourself soon, anyway.”
“What did you mean by a “session”? What sort of session?”
“Timothy, I don’t think that’s really our business, do you?. For now, let’s just focus on your training, right?”
“Sorry…”
“No problem. Now, you’re going to need to learn fast. We’ll talk about different types of boots – riding boots, fashion boots – ankle boots, calf boots, knee boots…”
“Thigh boots,” added Timothy.
Lavinia glanced sideways at him. “Yes…thigh boots. Do you think you’ll be able to handle thigh boots? On a girl with a mini-skirt, for example?”
Timothy shivered, and bit his lip.
“I told you, it’s not an easy job. But if you want out, this is your last chance. I heard from Miss Poole this morning. She’ll be there today, and your contract’s all ready for signing.”
“Oh. Brilliant. It’s so exciting. My mum’s dead chuffed I got such a good job.”
“Yes. Lucky you asked about Bobby when you did. A day later and someone else would probably have got it.”
She turned the car down the short track to the car park.
“We’re here. We’ll go straight to the place – it’s right at the end of the new stable block.”
They walked down the hill between the two lines of stables to the yellow doors. Now there was even a painted sign attached to the wall, “Boot Parlour. Opening Hours 9am to 12 noon, 1pm to 5pm, Mon-Fri, 9am to 1pm Sat. Please book at Reception.”
Lavinia led the way in, along a short corridor with a window at the back, and opened a door on the left. The room was painted yellow, with blue tiles on the floor, and seats along the walls. The walls were hung with horsey pictures.
“This is the waiting room.” She gestured towards the left-hand wall. “You can get water, coffee, and even a snack. Now on the right we have the toilet, and that” - she pointed to the door in the corner – “is the door to the inner sanctum. Let’s take a look.”
The boot parlour was ready for business, with two special padded reclining chairs with foot-rests, a bit like dentists’ chairs, at the far end, under high windows, and one at the near end next to the door. They were fully adjustable for height, back and knee angle, and had foot-rests that were also adjustable, and could be folded up if not required. The cupboards were finished and packed with kit, there were washing facilities to the right of the two chairs, and drains for washing muddy boots. On the right side there were two simple waiting-room chairs for family, friends, or observers. Timothy looked around, and examined the special chairs.
“Wow. Cool. What are these for?” He pointed to pairs of steel rings fixed to the wall at varying heights either side of the main chairs.
“Oh… They’re probably for hanging up tools or brushes or something. Yes, she hasn’t skimped on anything, has she?. And did you know you’ll have your own private room as well, in case you want to stay overnight? I’ll show you on the way out.”
They spent a few minutes looking through the contents of the cupboards, which contained everything imaginable that they might need, as well as two largish cases with the basic tools.
“These are for use if you have to attend to someone who doesn’t have time to come to you – for instance, someone who needs a quick clean or polish in between events – say between show-jumping and dressage. That may be important especially if, say, it’s a wet day. So when you’re working you’ll also be on call. I don’t know how it’s going to work out - it may be you’ll have quiet periods, or you may be worked off your feet. No-one knows till it happens. The whole thing’s a bit of an experiment.”
“What’s in them locked cupboards?”
“Don’t know. I haven’t got a key. More kit, presumably.” She looked at her watch. “Right, we need to walk up and see Miss Poole. I’ll show you your quarters first, though.”
They made their way out through the waiting room into the corridor. Lavinia opened a door opposite. It was a large room with a sofa, a table and chairs, a television and a computer. Three doors led off it.
“The kitchen’s through there, and you have two ensuite bedrooms. She’s really thought of everything. I hope it pays off…”
“This is really for me an’ Bobby? It’s amazing! So cool. Our own place! We can ‘ang out ‘ere instead of going ‘ome?”
“I think so. You’d better ask Miss Poole. Come on.”
Miss Poole was waiting for them in her office.
“Come in! Welcome, Timothy. Good to have you on board.”
“Good to be here, thank you, Miss Poole.”
He was learning fast the importance of politeness. He had realised already that that was a vital part of the job – keeping the customers sweet. It also meant bigger tips!
Miss Poole beamed. “So… You’ve had a look at your premises… What do you think?”
“It’s amazing, miss! It looks so professional.”
“And do you like your quarters?”
“They’ll really be ours?”
“Yes. Is was an afterthought, but the adjacent stable was empty, so I had it converted, as you see. Rent-free, Timothy. I hope it will reinforce your commitment to the job, and to maintain the Centre’s reputation for good service.”
“I’m really grateful, miss. And I’m sure Bobby is too.”
“It means that if you have to work overtime, or outside normal hours, you’ll have the option of crashing out here.”
“I really ‘preciate the fought, miss… It’ll be like our first flat…”
“Good. Excellent. So, I’ve prepared your contract…” She slid a slim sheaf of papers across her desk. “Please read it carefully. If you’re happy with the terms, sign it and return it to reception.”
“What about Bobby?”
“Oh, he signed his weeks ago.”
“Then I’ll sign it now…”
“No, Timothy, please… Read it carefully and make sure you agree to all the fine print…”
Timothy flicked through it. There were lots of clauses numbered and under various headings: “Hours”; “Payment Options”; “Duties”; “Uniform”; “Conduct”; “Penalties”; and so on. He glanced at the payment options, just to confirm the sums Miss Poole had mentioned were correct. They were. He noticed that hours could be extended “in times of high demand”, and that such hours would be designated as overtime. Duties? It was along paragraph, but he knew what his duties were – so he skipped that. Under “Uniform”, he noted that the responsibility for design, fitting and supply were delegated to Nicole and some company called Fantastex – that must be Cynthia. Okay. He’d negotiate with them about what he was prepared to wear. He skimmed “Conduct” – “presentable at all times”…”uniform must be worn at all times on the Centre premises”…”attention to clients’ satisfaction”…”politeness”…yeah, he knew all that stuff. “Penalties” was divided into sub-headings: “Contract Term” [yawn]. “Conduct and Behaviour” – yeah, be nice to the punters, right? No probs. Well, if it was good enough for Bobby…
He borrowed a pen and signed it on the spot. Miss Poole signed another copy and handed it to him. She looked extremely pleased. She folded the copy he had signed with great care, slipped it into a large envelope, and put it in her safe. She rubbed her hands.
“There. I think we’re done. Lavinia, why don’t you introduce Timothy to Jasmin and Ellie? You’ll find them at the far end of the old block – stable with a green door.”
They walked back down the hill along the old stable block. Girls were mucking out, horses were being saddled, a couple were mounted and trotting around the field to his left. So many cute girls, mostly about his age to! Some dressed in old jeans and T-shirts, working around the stables, others immaculate in boots and breeches. Several, he noticed, seemed interested, looked him up and down. Yeah, well, don’t suppose they see many good-looking blokes here. Looks like it’s all women. I’ve come to the right place. Many seemed to smile as he passed. One or two laughed, and one got the giggles and actually snorted with mirth! What’s her problem? Just wait till I’m Assistant Boot Boy! Then you’ll be pleading with me to squeeze you in ahead of someone else, right?
They had arrived. Lavinia knocked end entered. Jasmin and Ellie were seated on haybales laughing about something. They jumped to their feet and tried to look serious.
“Miss. Good morning.”
“Hi girls. Well, meet Timothy. Timothy, this is Jasmin…and Ellie. They’ll be doing most of your training. Probably in here…is that right, Jasmin?”
“Yes, miss. We have everything we need.” She glanced at Ellie, and Timothy could see they were struggling to keep straight faces. What was the matter with the staff here? In any case, he was senior to them now – mere stable-girls. He tried to look stern, but they couldn’t meet his eye. Ellie bit her lip and looked at the ground.
“What shall we call you?” asked Jasmin, composing herself.
Timothy was about to say “Mr Painter”. It was as well Lavinia spoke first, or the girls would probably have collapsed.
“Yes. Timothy, Timmy, Tim?” said Lavinia. “Actually, let’s go for Timmy. Then it’ll be Bobby and Timmy, Boot Boys. That has a nice pretty sound to it, I think. Yes. We should have another notice made for the main door of the parlour.
Timothy didn’t much like being called “Timmy”. It made him sound about six. But he was in no position to object.
“Okay, that’s settled. Right, now I’ll take Timmy for lunch in the staff canteen, show him around, and then leave him in your hands for the afternoon.” She looked around. “I see you’ve got a good selection of boots. Were you in the Scouts, Timmy?”
“I am…in the Scouts…”
“Still? Excellent! Because you’ll need to be prepared…for anything!”
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Topic: His Aunt Nicole (Read 75505 times)
