challengingly. ‘Did you have one customer complaint? Did someone break a tooth on a Sample’s scone, or have hot tea spilt into her lap? Come along now, let’s hear the worst. Where’s the complaints book? I suppose you had to start one if your customers were so dissatisfied.’
Despite herself, Dana felt a smile curl her lips, and catching Caitlin’s eye she saw that her friend, too, was trying to stifle her amusement. ‘All right, you’ve got a point; no one complained,’ she admitted. ‘In fact several people – the ones who bought pots of tea and not just cups – asked for more hot water. I suppose that’s quite a good sign.’
‘And I had to go up to the dairy for more milk,’ Caitlin said eagerly. ‘The trouble is I think we over-bought; we were careful with bread, not knowing how much toast we would sell, but we honestly believed the scones would go like hot cakes. When we were working at the Willows, the women who came in for a sit down and a cuppa aftertheir shopping nearly always asked for a scone. It was the men who went for toast, but there aren’t many offices round here so we thought our customers would mainly be women and we thought—’
James Mortimer cut across her ruthlessly. ‘Don’t make excuses, because they ain’t necessary,’ he said sharply. ‘I’m telling you you’ve done well; at least as well as I expected, and I know a good deal more about the catering business than you’d credit. We’ll sell these scones off cheap tomorrow, even cheaper than what we bought them for from Samples.’ He gave her the benefit of his most engaging grin. ‘What attracts a customer to scones and cakes is the smell of baking. Tomorrow I want you and Dana to come in at nine o’clock and make a batch of fresh scones. I guess there’s ordinary scones and what they call rich ones, and I want you to make the richer sort; put plenty of sultanas into the mix, and more sugar, maybe? Anyway, make ’em good, real special.’
Dana remembered her mother making scones for special occasions and being allowed to scrape the bowl out. ‘Mammy used an egg instead of water to bind the flour and shortening and all that,’ she said eagerly. ‘She made the best scones in the whole of Ireland. I know the recipe and could whip up a couple of dozen in no time.’
James Mortimer nodded his approval, then gave Caitlin’s shoulders a squeeze. ‘See?’ he said, grinning and pointing at Dana. ‘You’ve got a partner who knows what’s what. But don’t forget the importance of the smell of baking. Your customers can go along to Samples and buy themselves a scone any time, but they can’t have a cup of tea with it, nor a sit down …’
‘And it won’t be buttered, or have jam on,’ Caitlin finished for him. ‘Oh, James, you’ve cheered me up no end. I was thinking you’d be upset and cross and want to close us down. Wasn’t I foolish?’
‘No, no; it’s just that you’re new to the business. You’ll soon grow accustomed and get to know your customers’ likes and dislikes. Before long you’ll be able to predict how many scones or slices of toast you will sell on a rainy day and how many when the sun is bouncing off the pavement. Now come along. You’re much too tired to cook so I’ll take you out to Lyons Corner House and buy you a slap-up supper. How does that appeal?’
Dana and Caitlin beamed at him, then Dana rushed across to the customers’ coat rack and took down her jacket and Caitlin’s. ‘We’ve had nothing to eat all day because we were so anxious,’ she said, unlocking the door. ‘Come along, Caitlin. It’ll be grand to be waited on for a change!’
As time passed, it was soon clear to both girls that James Mortimer knew what he was doing. His prophecy regarding the tea drinkers had proved correct, and soon Dana was coming down to the storeroom kitchen by eight o’clock in order to bake her scones. At the end of the first month, they invested in a larger and much more
Despite herself, Dana felt a smile curl her lips, and catching Caitlin’s eye she saw that her friend, too, was trying to stifle her amusement. ‘All right, you’ve got a point; no one complained,’ she admitted. ‘In fact several people – the ones who bought pots of tea and not just cups – asked for more hot water. I suppose that’s quite a good sign.’
‘And I had to go up to the dairy for more milk,’ Caitlin said eagerly. ‘The trouble is I think we over-bought; we were careful with bread, not knowing how much toast we would sell, but we honestly believed the scones would go like hot cakes. When we were working at the Willows, the women who came in for a sit down and a cuppa aftertheir shopping nearly always asked for a scone. It was the men who went for toast, but there aren’t many offices round here so we thought our customers would mainly be women and we thought—’
James Mortimer cut across her ruthlessly. ‘Don’t make excuses, because they ain’t necessary,’ he said sharply. ‘I’m telling you you’ve done well; at least as well as I expected, and I know a good deal more about the catering business than you’d credit. We’ll sell these scones off cheap tomorrow, even cheaper than what we bought them for from Samples.’ He gave her the benefit of his most engaging grin. ‘What attracts a customer to scones and cakes is the smell of baking. Tomorrow I want you and Dana to come in at nine o’clock and make a batch of fresh scones. I guess there’s ordinary scones and what they call rich ones, and I want you to make the richer sort; put plenty of sultanas into the mix, and more sugar, maybe? Anyway, make ’em good, real special.’
Dana remembered her mother making scones for special occasions and being allowed to scrape the bowl out. ‘Mammy used an egg instead of water to bind the flour and shortening and all that,’ she said eagerly. ‘She made the best scones in the whole of Ireland. I know the recipe and could whip up a couple of dozen in no time.’
James Mortimer nodded his approval, then gave Caitlin’s shoulders a squeeze. ‘See?’ he said, grinning and pointing at Dana. ‘You’ve got a partner who knows what’s what. But don’t forget the importance of the smell of baking. Your customers can go along to Samples and buy themselves a scone any time, but they can’t have a cup of tea with it, nor a sit down …’
‘And it won’t be buttered, or have jam on,’ Caitlin finished for him. ‘Oh, James, you’ve cheered me up no end. I was thinking you’d be upset and cross and want to close us down. Wasn’t I foolish?’
‘No, no; it’s just that you’re new to the business. You’ll soon grow accustomed and get to know your customers’ likes and dislikes. Before long you’ll be able to predict how many scones or slices of toast you will sell on a rainy day and how many when the sun is bouncing off the pavement. Now come along. You’re much too tired to cook so I’ll take you out to Lyons Corner House and buy you a slap-up supper. How does that appeal?’
Dana and Caitlin beamed at him, then Dana rushed across to the customers’ coat rack and took down her jacket and Caitlin’s. ‘We’ve had nothing to eat all day because we were so anxious,’ she said, unlocking the door. ‘Come along, Caitlin. It’ll be grand to be waited on for a change!’
As time passed, it was soon clear to both girls that James Mortimer knew what he was doing. His prophecy regarding the tea drinkers had proved correct, and soon Dana was coming down to the storeroom kitchen by eight o’clock in order to bake her scones. At the end of the first month, they invested in a larger and much more
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