“Good morning Mrs Wylie, how lovely to welcome you once again at The Rogano, Glasgow’s premier eating establishment, after supper at your much sought after and rarely found town house of course.”
“You are too kind, one does what one can with a year’s intensive cordon bleu training in the culinary capital of the world. I am so grateful to my dear late parents for the opportunities they gave me.”
“I imagine Madame they must have realised your potential for gracious living at an early age.”
“Guilty as charged! As the director of the school commented on the very first day, rarely have we seen a student fill a bain marie with such studied emotion and my cheese soufflé was something of a talking point in the 15th Arrondissement. Of course, Grandpapa (on my father’s side) kept an eye on me as being in the fine furnishing trade he had frequent trips to Paris in search of a Bergère day-bed. I remember there was one particular lady he liked to do business with and I once overheard him say that no one could cane a bottom like her. I still have one or two pieces of her handiwork in my store. They look rather smart in a small apartment; the cane lets the light through, creating an allusion of space. There are few who can do that sort of work these days.”
“Are you wishing to reserve a table for luncheon?”
“Not today thank you, but I am going to London for a few days and of course there is Dining Car strike involving the pullman trains – as if Mr Macmillan does not have enough to deal with. I read in The Glasgow Herald, and therefore it must be the case, that you are offering packed lunches for those inconvenienced by such matters. I have the cutting here and I quote:
The thought of foodless trains does not appeal to the growing number of rail travellers who now use this Rogano Service. Chose your food menu, (hot or cold) and make each journey memorable. For reservations see the manager.
So now I see you and would like to make a reservation for something memorable.”
“Mrs Wylie it would be an honour. Are you doing something special in London?”
“I am giving some advice to a Mr Scott who is opening a new Jazz Club in Soho. It’s your little touches we need he said and so I have a range of suggestions including glassware with the Club name on it.”
“So clever Mrs Wylie and no doubt with your influence the Club will be going strong in 60 years time.”
“Just like The Rogano.”
“One can hope Mrs Wylie, but we will all be pushing up daisies by then or in your case marguerites.”
“Always one with a compliment, even backhanded.”
“Comes to us all Mrs Wylie’ now will I speak to chef and we can finalise the details by telephone?”
“Simply marvellous, now I must dash. Mrs Macaulay will be onto her second choux bun in Fullers by now. Merci and au revoir”
“Always a pleasure Mrs Wylie.”
“I know.”
“Lottie so sorry to keep you, that choux pastry looks delicious. Just be careful, you seem to have rather a large splodge of cream down your décolletage. It’s not a good look with pearls. Are you sure that was a good choice of outfit for a November morning?”
“Oh good morning Muriel. I was feeling a bit peckish, actually it’s my second but who’s counting? Anyway, had an early breakfast. Mr Macaulay is away to a Concrete Symposium in Nethy Bridge, a likely story. Sorry you don’t approve of my dress. All I can say is the Manager in Galloway’s likes it.”
“He likes anything that appears to be oxygenated Lottie, especially a well upholstered specimen like yourself.”
“That’s a bit unkind Muriel; a girl has to make the best of her assets and I am sure something alive comes as a welcome change when one works in a butcher’s.”
“I am sorry Lottie. I am just having one of those mornings trying to stand up to people holding the country to ransom, when I am simply trying to make sure I can have a meal on a train. Anyway what were you doing at the butcher’s? I thought they delivered to you.”
“They do, I was just paying my account and I have foolishly agreed to host a dinner party for my husband and some of his concrete friends. I was thinking pork en croute with a wild mushroom sauce?”
“Good choice and after all there is an ‘r’ in the month.”
“Strange as it may seem Muriel despite my nouveau riche credentials, I do know the alphabet and the months of the year. Even we got that in junior secondary in Airdrie. Not every conversation has to be a lesson Muriel.”
“My! Someone got out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”
“It’s still the spare room, despite his offer of a new mink from Karter’s.”
“A girl can never have too many fur coats, it’s money in the bank Lottie.”
“I know Muriel, but any more fur coats and I will be able to open a branch of the ‘Hudson’s Bay Company’ in Byres Road.”
“Did you get a piece of pork?”
“No; the man in Galloway’s said that as we Scots do not eat much pork it would need to be ordered.”
“Well order it, then.”
“Just put me off, so I just got some bacon and even that doesn’t come from Britain now. Apparently, we now have the wrong type of pigs in this country and the market for Danish bacon is wide open.”
“Actually Lottie, I read something like that in The Herald.”
“So it must be true.”
“Indeed; according to the M.P. for North Sunderland, which presumably is somewhere near the other Sunderlands, the whole of the Bacon Industry is disturbed.”
“Coffee Ladies?”
“Did you enjoy the Bonfire Night Party at Lady Pentland-Firth’s Muriel?”
“Yes, although I always have my reservations about money going up in smoke, Lottie. It was certainly more entertaining than the speaker talking about the story of gunpowder, the night before at the Hysterical Society.”
“You mean historical?”
“One does not preclude the other dear.”
“I would have thought that might be quite interesting.”
“It might have been. Just a pity the indoor fireworks set the pulpit falls alight. Mind you, come to think of it, that was the most exciting bit. Who would have thought there were so many chemical equations involved in a Roman Candle. Doubt the Kirk Session will let Jasper use the vestry again.”
“What did you think of the Guy, Muriel?”
“Well Lottie someone had gone to a lot of trouble, but it did seem a bit strange having a woman sitting on the bonfire. Come to think of it having a woman sitting at all is a novelty. Mrs Travers, our woman what does but not a lot, says it broke through the barriers regarding traditional historical and gender based views of the role of 17th century women in conspiracies and to paraphrase ‘Now who do yoose think made the pieces for the traitors night in the parliamentary vaults?’ She does have a point”
“Do you think that twilight course was wise Muriel?”
“Sometimes I wonder Lottie, when I said I wanted to widen her recreational opportunities I was thinking more about marquetry rather than Karl Marx. I am sure Jasper put her up to it.”
“There were one or two unexpected absences from Bonfire Night. I didn’t see your cousin Lulubelle, she always likes a few fireworks.”
“Didn’t I mention? She has gone back to the States. Now that Reginald Maudlin has removed import controls, she has gone home to see what opportunities there might be for American goods coming into the country. She is talking of bringing some cars over.”
“Really Muriel those ones with the wings. I would love one of those, but who has a garage big enough to take them?”
“Talking of loving things Lottie, that was rather splendid Shepherd’s Pie you made for the Bonfire Party, perhaps a bit heavy on the seasoning but I rather liked the unconventional cheese topping.”
“You are too kind Muriel, which is a pleasant change from your usual comments about my cooking but I cannot claim the credit I sub contacted the work to Cynthia Savage, the pickle queen, and I think her generous provision of Savage’s spicy condiments made all the difference. I just didn’t have the time. I did the baked potatoes and sausages. It was supposed to be Bunty Haystack’s contribution, but she seems to have forgotten. I certainly did not see her at the party. By the way your crumble was delicious.”
“Naturally Lottie. Naturally. Keeping the custard warm was tricky. Honestly if it were not for Jasper I could have got away with Carnation milk.”
“I am surprised he has not turned yellow Muriel, your Jasper certainly likes his custard.”
“Lottie you must be assuming we all make our custard from shop bought powder. I am talking fresh vanilla pods and the best cream.”
“Sounds too much like hard work to me Muriel. Would you like to come over for a drink this evening, seeing as I am on my own. I have a bottle of “Emva Cream”.”
“Too kind Lottie but I think not. I would rather like to see Gigi at the Cosmo tonight. This is Jasper’s night for The Brains’ Trust with Lord Shackleton as special guest and he has promised Mrs Travers that she can stay and watch the new STV programme ‘The British as Murderers’ which this evening has a Jack, the Ripper, special.”
“I thought you did not approve of Independent Television Muriel, with all those adverts?”
“Did I say that I would be watching it? I think it’s quite suitable for domestics and husbands providing it is nothing too sensational or disturbing.”
“At least Muriel you know exactly where the members of your family and staff are. My husband is supposed to be in Nethy Bridge, up to his eyes in concrete developments but you can bet your bottom dollar he’s not in Nethy Bridge, but he’ll certainly be up to his eyes in something.”
“Sometimes Lottie you just have to plough your own furrow.”
“Yes Muriel and on that note I think I might go back to Galloway’s and pick up a bit of beef.”
“Wellington?”
“Oh I don’t think that’s his name. Bye”
“Goodbye Lottie, I’ll get this as usual.”
“Muriel… just before you go.”
“Oh Professor Sir BoozeyHawkes, from the good varsity here in Glasgow, it is yourself.”
“I believe so Mrs Wylie. I am on my way to “Patterson’s” for some harpsicord music.”
“On account of you being an expert on that strange instrument?”
“Too kind Mrs Wylie, but I was hoping I might bump into you here in Buchanan Street. The Handsome Stranger wants to know if you have any intelligence on the whereabouts of Bunty Haystack, well known author of the Rural Mysteries. She was supposed to be at the Lenzie and District Rotary Club for a talk on Great Farmyard Murders. She has not been seen for several days and according to the district nurse her prescription for ointment for her damaged bahookie peppered with shot has not been picked up from Timothy White’s.”
“But she always goes to Jesse Boots.”
“Exactly, Mrs Wylie exactly. Now tell me where do you stand on Scarlatti, and while you tell me is that half of a cream chocolate choux bun going begging?”
à bientôt
Muriel Wylie
November 1959
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