MARJORIE GRANGER
SMILING IN THE GARDEN
A Thrilling Tale of a Dinner lady
By Zelda Zebra
Copyright
Published December 2012
By Zelda Zebra
Marjorie The Dinnerlady
Chapter 1
Marjorie the dinnerlady always buttered the bread in the kitchen at Robinsville School. It was her job in the grand plan of making a school dinner. The other dinner ladies all had their own individual jobs and expertise to do. Some did this well, some did it sloppily, some dinner ladies were experts. Marjorie just did her best.
She lived in a cottage that had lots of rose bushes and geraniums growing around it. It was a stone cottage in the middle of the countryside.
She enjoyed gardening when she was not being a dinner lady. Her ritual at the end of the walk home from school in the afternoon was to stand in the middle of the garden and breathe a huge sigh of relief at the peace and quiet of it all.
In her garden she had lavender bushes lining the paths and rose bushes in flowerbeds. In the spring she had fritillaries, daffodils and black tulips. In the summer she had busy dizzies, agapanthus and sunflowers.
Chapter 2
In her spare time Marjorie played the keyboard in the local church. She had done this for twenty years and was part of the furniture there.
She played lots of classical pieces and her favourite composer was Bach, he was very dramatic and did lots of interweaving melodies.
Marjorie had been a dinnerlady since the late sixties, and had seen lots of changes in fashion and attitudes.
The mothers in flared trousers and loud shirts came up to her in the Seventies and asked for the recipe for her bread and butter pudding, as did the mothers in the
Eighties, wearing their rare skirts and legwarmers.
In the seventies and eighties people were a lot more talkative and considerate to each other than they are now, they were not reliant on mobile phones and other electrical stuff. They walked to school with their children and used phone boxes to phone their husbands at work if they were in town, they did not have a dot on a map on their mobile phone that said where they were on screenfriend.
Chapter 3
In the 1970’s Marjorie always stood in the garden after work and laughed about the funny stories and conversations she had shared with the children that day.
The nineties and millennium bought with it selfishness and Iphones, social network sites, rude children, rude parents and sadness.
She had to sigh a lot in the garden at this behaviour.
Marjorie loved to dance and went to ballroom dancing classes every week with her husband Len. She always wore bright pink chiffon frilly dresses and silver high heels and enjoyed looking glamorous and pretty.
At the end of a Wednesday summers’ evening dancing she took Len into the garden and they both sighed and then they kissed.
Chapter 4
When Marjorie was in the school kitchen, she often closed her eyes and remembered herself dancing, to escape the noise and screeching of the children and the teachers in the playground. Failing that, she secretly put cotton wool in her ears and smiled and nodded at people.
Wet play was the worst, there was always someone banging away at the piano, or children running in the corridor.
The rain always splashed on the windows creating a rain patterned fence around the classroom, and the screaming shouting children’s voices seemed endless, the only thing that calmed them down was drawing on the scrap paper that was shiny and smelt of fish and chip newspaper.
Marjorie liked it on wet winter days when everyone was miserable and sulked about the school, then when she put her famous roast dinner with the fatty potatoes in it, their faces always lit up and it was a lovely sight to see.
If they got stuck in the school in the snow, Marjorie always made soup for the teachers to drink before they had to make their treacherous journey home.
Chapter 5
Marjorie loved Christmas and always had a red and silver tree. She liked to have a real tree, because she liked the smell of it, and her local greengrocer always had some nice ones in the old days, now she usually bought one from the local garden centre. Everything seemed to be mass produced these days.
She never entered the staff room in the school, preferring to eat her lunch in the kitchen and look out of the window at the children playing in the playground.
One autumn evening there was a knock at the door.
Marjory got up out of her armchair where she had been watching “celebrity foxtrot” and opened it.
A woman in a smart black suit stood in front of her. She had long black corkscrew permed hair and high heeled red shoes.
Chapter 6
“Hello Marjorie” she said. “Do you remember me? I’m Caroline Spence”
“My mother has just died and she has left you some money in her will”.
“Oh” said Marjorie, who was your mother?
“She was one of your pupils in the seventies” said the woman, brushing her hair aside.
Marjorie laughed “I wasn’t a teacher, I was just a dinnerlady” said Marjorie.
“Yes but she loved you, we all did, you used to teach us how to play hopscotch and plait our hair for us” said Caroline.
“Ah yes, I remember” said Marjorie with a smile.
“Unfortunately she died last month after a long battle with cancer”
“I’m so sorry to hear that” sympathised Marjory. She felt shocked and the need to sit down.
“What was her name?”
“It was Rosemary” said the woman.
“Come inside” said Marjorie.
Caroline sat down in an armchair in Marjories’ front room.
Marjorie had a large front room with a big tv and a cabinet full of Lladro and Capo de Monte figures.
There was always an elaborate flower display on the dining room table.
Caroline glanced at these in an interested way. She sat down on the sofa opposite Marjory.
“My mother said that you were a lovely woman and that you were always kind to her and made her feel happy” said Caroline.
“She told me lots of happy things about her life before she died, such as how she always played hopscotch in the playground at school, and loved to go out dancing with her husband and how she loved to spend the summer holidays taking her children to London and on picnics in the local park.
Marjory nodded, she remembered Rosemary, she was one of her best friends, she always made lovely tea and made cakes when she came round, and was always on the end of the phone if she needs advice.
Just then the phone rang.
“Excuse me a moment” said Marjory.
Chapter 7
It was Irene on the phone wondering whether Marjory was making a Christmas cake this year, she usually came round and they made their Christmas cakes together as Irene only had a small kitchen.
“Yes that would be lovely” said Marjory “I have someone with me at the moment, so I will have to go, but I will catch up with you soon” she said.
Caroline sat thoughtfully on the sofa waiting for Marjory to finish her phonecall.
Marjory put the phone down and sat next to Caroline on the sofa again.
“My mother has left you £300” said Caroline, “it will be posted to you next week”
“Thankyou very much” said Marjorie “it is lovely to meet you, and I am not sure I am worthy of that amount of money, but thankyou very much.”
Marjorie shut the door after Caroline had left and put the TV on.
There was a game show on which had some blonde ladies tr
ying to win a holiday in Spain, with a villa and spending money on it, they had to answer 20 questions about cooking a Sunday lunch, but they weren’t doing very well. Marjory found herself answering their questions for them, and she felt that she should be winning the holiday.
Tomorrow she would be going back to work after the weekend. She had packed her work bag with her packed lunch, her magazine and her change of clothes, for when she had finished work. Len was due home from work at 7pm.
Chapter 8
Marjorie was happy at her demure thinking woman’s’ age of 52, she had been through it all, children, career and indigestion eased by apricots.
Marjorie found that she was a lot more candid at her age than she had been in her twenties and thirties and spoke her mind at a customer service desk when taking back a faulty toaster or in the exit queue from the car park in Sainsburys.
She liked to plume forth and be splendid in life, rather than be a shrinking violet.
Len however, was more laid back and passive and took a cautionary step back in her weekly rants with the bin men when they had spilt rubbish all over their front lawn.
The old wooden clock in the lounge with the pendulum and the roman numerals struck seven exactly as Lens’ key turned through the door.
Chapter 8
Len came into the hall and put his coat on the pegs by the telephone table then went into the kitchen to make him a cup of tea.
“I’ve come into some money, and I’ve decided I’m going to open a flower shop” announced Marjorie.
“Yes dear” said Len, laughing and shaking his head; Marjorie was always coming out with these wild fantasies. He had lived through her electric guitar playing, her hairdressing, and her flower arranging at the local church.
“I have enough experience from my flower arranging days” said Marjorie, “I was at St Stephens for about fifteen years!”
Marjorie had it all planned out in her head and she began to write her flower shop plan in a large notebook that she found in the dresser in the corner of the lounge.
“So where has this money come from then?” asked Len
“It was from a pupil that I served dinners to in the 1970’s”said Marjorie, apparently she died and she has left me some money, which was very kind of her indeed, and I’m so excited, I can put it towards my dream of opening a florist!.”
That night Marjorie trawled the internet and found a lovely glamorous American lady in New York doing all sorts of wonderful things with flower arrangements, even putting asparagus in vases with the flowers! She would have to try that out in the church this Sunday!
The next morning Marjorie got up at 8.00am and drove straight to Sainsbury’s to buy some asparagus, and then she bought some carnations and Lilies and went to the local hardware store to buy some stones and some cheap glass vases.
She got them home and set to work filling the first vase with asparagus, all pointing upwards like grass, then she gradually interlaced the lilies and some fern that she had growing in the garden. She took a picture of it and emailed it to her daughter Jenny who lived in London.
Her daughter emailed her back and asked if she could come down that evening and help out.
So at 7pm Jenny rang the doorbell, she hugged her mother, and told her she was proud of her. After that, they got stuck in with the flowers. Jenny had bought with her some Agapanthus flowers and some papyrus grass.
Chapter 9
Marjorie walked into the school kitchen the next Monday morning, and there was a hush everywhere from her colleagues, they were all talking quietly at the kitchen sinks or quietly going about their business. She had decided not to tell anyone about the money yet, as it could cause jealousy or smart remarks from the mouthier of her colleagues, but she felt that a great weight had been lifted from her, and she felt more enthusiastic about the day. She was going to cash the cheque in today after work.
As it was Monday, it was her job to peel all the potatoes and mark all the dinners off from the registers onto her list, so that they knew how many vegetarian meals there were, and how many free meals and whether there were any teachers who wanted extra vegetables or potatoes. Mr Smith the football teacher did not like peas, so they always gave him extra carrots, it was always worth doing this as when you gave him his plate of food he broke into a magnificent huge grin on his face.
Miss Meredith the geography teacher was back from maternity leave, she had a sad drained look on her face, but seemed to have lost all her maternity weight and was wearing a smart short black dress with red high heels and she looked very pretty.
“Just a small dinner for me today” she said at the canteen counter “I’ve got to watch my figure now”.
While she was pregnant, Miss Meredith had loved to eat two bowls of custard for pudding every day, and then have a ten minute sleep in the staffroom.
It was while she was asleep in the staffroom that Marjorie popped in to return some mugs from the kitchen dishwasher.
“Ooh, hello Miss Meredith” said Marjorie, perhaps you should be at home, tucked up in bed”
“Well Marjorie, I come here to get away from the four walls of home, and my anxious husband!” she said “this place is a sanctuary compared to living with my neurotic other half!”
Marjorie nodded sympathetically and sat down “you must look after yourself my love” she said.
“Thankyou” said Miss Meredith.
Marjorie walked back to the kitchen and got on with finishing the washing up and washing the canteen floor before she went home at 2.30pm.
The rest of the day dragged, and then she went home on the bus. She was looking forward to going home and sitting down with a nice cup of tea at the computer to look for ideas on her floristry venture.
The bus journey home seemed long; it always seemed to take twice as long when there were bus driver changeovers or someone with one of those huge buggies that do not fit in any of the buses doorways, which cast her mind back to Miss Meredith, and what she had ahead of her.
Marjorie had two daughters, one lived in London and worked in a bank, and she was called Jenny and was 32 and lived with her boyfriend in a flat in south London. The other daughter was called Amanda and lived in Berkshire in a four bedroom house in the middle of the countryside. It was always a pain to get there in the motorway traffic, but Amanda always gave her a huge hug and made her a lovely cup of tea.
Jenny was very sensible and looked after her money carefully; she went on lovely holidays to Spain and always sent Marjorie a postcard.
Amanda however, lived the high life, and was always out partying with her friends and getting the latest phone gadget, Marjorie remembered how at the age of seven Amanda had beat her fists on the table and demanded a “Girls World”. Amanda’s husband was fairly arrogant and always had a lot to say for himself. He always made sure he won at card games that they played after dinner and had a posh laugh that made Marjorie cringe a little.
Marjorie had enjoyed being pregnant with Amanda and Jenny, and had looked after herself by eating lots of vegetables and fish, and resting a lot.
In those days, if you were pregnant, then you had to give up your job – working mothers were unheard of then. You would have to have monthly meetings with your matronly 1950’s style midwife who would tick you off for having biscuits before bedtime or too much sugar in your tea, and they would recommend that you read the Dr Gluck book “A Mothers Guide” that seemed so amazing and informative, but in today’s’ world it would probably be seen as quite patronising and politically incorrect. However, it laid the foundations for parenting for Marjorie quite nicely.
Luckily life today was a little more liberal than that, and more and more shops were selling maternity clothes that you did not have to make yourself as Marjorie had done, and mothers went back to work when babies were young. However, most girls would not know how to sew a button on these days, or cook a casserole. Marjorie sighed out loud to herself at this thought, but then smiled
and picked up her magazine.