by Rosie Clarke
‘Then perhaps you ought to think of getting help for her – from the Sally Army or somewhere like that?’
‘I’m not sure the Sally Army would take her. She told me she is almost eighteen and the girls in their homes have to leave by the time they’re her age.’ Peggy sighed. ‘It would probably have to be a hostel of some kind. I feel she is too vulnerable and still not fully recovered from her ordeal. She is afraid to venture outside alone.’ Her forehead creased. ‘Yet she came round to the pub kitchen to tell me about the accident…’
‘I told her to,’ Able said. ‘She didn’t refuse, Peggy – she just did it—’ He looked thoughtful. ‘She may just be playing on your sympathy. Everyone knows you have a kind heart, hon.’
‘Yes, I believe in kindness and being generous when you can, but I’m not a fool, Able. If I thought she was a danger to the happiness of my family or my friends…’
He nodded his agreement. ‘Perhaps it was just a little mistake, Peggy – we should give her a bit longer.’ He smiled at her. ‘I will make enquiries – you said she came from Bermondsey, didn’t you? – see if I can trace anyone who cares for her, any remaining family…’
‘You know she hates her father and fears him?’
‘Yes, I know – and you think her mother is dead?’
‘Her gran too, I think. I don’t think she has any family, Able, though she mentioned an aunt, but if she had one, surely she wouldn’t have been on the streets half-starved. She needs a home to go to – but I’m not sure who would take her in.’
Able’s eyes were serious as they met hers. ‘She is not a part of your family, Peggy, and you’ve done more than most. She isn’t your responsibility – even though I know you feel she is.’
‘It’s daft and I know it,’ Peggy agreed. ‘I did what I thought right, Able – and if she was as innocent as she seemed at the start, I might have kept her – but not if she is a danger to any of us.’
‘Surely not a danger?’ he said. He moved towards her, putting out his hand to caress her cheek. ‘I shall find out what I can about her, and I’ll see if there is anywhere she can go. If it comes to it, we could get her a room with a decent, kindly landlady and pay for her keep.’
‘Oh, Able, would you be willing to do that for her?’
‘For her? No,’ he said with a loving smile. ‘For your peace of mind, anything, my love.’
‘You’re such a lovely man,’ Peggy told him. ‘I’ll never know what I’ve done to deserve you.’
‘Maybe it’s because you make the best apple pie I ever tasted,’ Able said teasingly. ‘Stop worrying, Peggy. She’s just a kid and even if she turns out to be a bit spiteful, I doubt she’s strong enough to be a danger to anyone…’
Gillian kept to her room the rest of that day, but the next morning she came down to breakfast and smiled at Able and Freddie. She sat next to the boy and asked him whether his sister was better, telling him she was sorry he was missing his skating practice.
‘I don’t mind. I only go to make it easier for Fay,’ he told her with a shrug. ‘I joined the ice hockey team so I can keep an eye on her, but I like football best, don’t I, Dad?’
‘Yes, son,’ Able said and looked straight at Gillian. ‘What do you like doing, Gillian? We’re going to the swimming pool later – would you like to come with us?’
She looked at him in horror and shook her head. ‘I can’t swim.’
‘We could teach you,’ Able said, but she just shook her head again. ‘So, is there anything we can get for you – books, puzzles, knitting wool?’
Gillian hesitated, then, ‘I like drawing with coloured pencils.’
‘The twins like that too,’ he said with a smile. ‘While we’re out, we’ll get you a pad and a box of pencils for yourself – anything else?’
‘Could I sew something for Peggy or the twins?’ Gillian asked tentatively.
‘Yes, of course,’ Peggy replied. ‘Able will get you some material to make yourself a dress – if you’d like?’
Gillian nodded, then said, ‘I’d rather make something for you. I can embroider well… Gran said it was the only thing I was good for…’
‘She doesn’t sound very kind,’ Freddie said, looking at her. ‘Is that why you ran away from her?’
‘She died and then—’ Gillian’s eyes clouded with tears. She looked towards Peggy for help.
‘Gillian’s father was unkind to her, too,’ Peggy told him. ‘Go up to Fay, Freddie love, and ask her if she wants anything more.’
He got up obediently and went.
Able had continued to watch Gillian and now he asked, ‘Why didn’t you tell the police about what your father did to you?’
Gillian’s eyes flashed with sudden fear. ‘He would kill me if he knew where I was, he would come after me, and he would kill me…’
‘Don’t worry,’ Able said with a gentle smile. ‘It doesn’t matter. But if the police arrested your father, it would make you safe.’
Gillian shook her head, got to her feet and fled the kitchen.
Able looked at Peggy apologetically. ‘Sorry, hon. I thought if I talked to her, she might open up a little—’
‘She isn’t like most girls,’ Peggy told him. ‘I’ll let her get over it, Able. You look after the twins – and make those enquiries we spoke of.’
‘Are you going up to her?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Peggy said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll let her come back to me when she is ready.’
She and Alice were clearing the breakfast things from the guests’ dining room when they returned to the kitchen to discover Gillian washing up. Pearl had scrubbed the pine table and was about to leave with the carpet sweeper and her polishing cloths.
‘Is everything all right?’ Peggy asked, giving Pearl an enquiring glance.
‘Yes, fine,’ Pearl replied. ‘Gillian asked me for a job and I told her to do the washing-up for you. If you wanted, you could go to the swimming pool with Able and the twins.’
‘Well, I could help Fay in the changing rooms—’ Peggy smiled at them. ‘If you’re all sure you can manage without me?’
‘Yes, of course we can,’ three voices said and Alice went to assist Gillian with drying the dishes.
Peggy decided to leave them to it. Having more time to spend with her family was the main reason she’d moved back to London and she might as well make the most of it.
10
Shirley looked around the small, plain but neat bedroom she’d been shown to on her arrival. She’d been delighted to discover that she had her own room in the boarding house and was not sharing with one of the female medical students, as she’d expected. It turned out that only one had intended to come, but, in the end, two had decided to take advantage of the opportunity.
‘I was lucky enough to get you your room at the last minute,’ Richard had said, kissing her softly on the mouth when he met her from the train. ‘You were going to share with Tosy, as I told you, but at the last minute, Katie decided she wanted to come too. She’d been hoping her boyfriend would get home on leave – but his leave has been delayed so now she’s going to work with us.’
‘Oh—’ Shirley’s heart had sunk, because Katie was the girl who she’d suspected Richard might have had a fling with the previous term, before he’d told her he was in love with her. He’d said the nasty anonymous letter she’d received before the previous Christmas was just spite and there was no truth in it, but she couldn’t help wishing Katie hadn’t come along. ‘Well, it will be nice to have my own room and it’s not far from where we work, just a street away, so I can walk there in the morning.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought,’ he’d said and smiled at her. ‘I’m sharing with two other students in a boarding house down the road on your left. Jeff and Bob, my room mates, have both got jobs on the seafront, but Katie is working in the kitchen with me. She has done it before and they were glad to get her, because she’s quite good at cooking – although she never offers to cook anything for
us at the hospital.’ He grinned. ‘She won’t even make the tea unless we force her.’
Shirley had nodded. Katie was a good friend as far as Richard and the other students were concerned. They often went drinking together in the evenings and watched the various sports events or ate in the same venues, though Richard had to work two or three nights a week at a local pub to earn some extra money. His father had given him all he could to help him through his medical training, but he needed more and that was the main reason for this working holiday – that and the chance for them to spend some time together away from their families.
The boarding house had taken the students on bed and breakfast terms. They would get fed at the restaurant where they lived in their break and then at night it would be some chips in a bag on the front, unless they felt rich enough to go out for a proper meal, perhaps once a week.
‘You will probably do better than me overall,’ Richard had told her. ‘The waitresses get tips – but the kitchen staff only receive their wages and a bonus at the end of the season if we’ve done well.’
‘Do we have to put the tips in a pot and share them?’ Shirley had asked him. ‘My friend said she did it in a café in London once for pocket money and all the tips were pooled and shared out according to how long you’d been there – she only got half what the others did…’
‘I think you get to clear your own tables and pocket what is left for you,’ Richard had said. ‘If a customer is very pleased, he might give it to you to make sure you get it. I did six weeks as a waiter the first time I came down, but then I transferred to the kitchen. The work is even harder, but the money is better for a start and I got four pounds bonus last year – but you get tips and that can be a lot more if you’re lucky.’
‘I wish I’d come with you last year,’ Shirley had said wistfully and he’d smiled and squeezed her waist.
‘Your parents wouldn’t have let you,’ he’d replied. ‘It was better to wait until this year – and we’ll have lots of fun together this summer, Shirley.’ He had looked at her seriously. ‘Have you got any postcards or stamps so you can write home? I’ve got some stamps if you need them.’
‘Thanks. I’ll send them one later today – and Claire, Peggy and Sheila too.’
‘That will keep them happy.’
‘Yes.’ She’d smiled up at him. ‘I was a bit nervous, but I’m so glad I came.’
Three days later, Shirley was still glad she’d come down, though her first two days at the restaurant had been hard. She’d been taught how to carry a tray and how to serve – both things she’d thought she knew until she was shown the right way. She’d also learned how to set a table, how to clear it – and how to negotiate the swing door to the kitchen with her backside. There was no smiling father to get up and hold the door to the scullery for her here and she’d had to learn to hold her own with the other girls, who would shove her out of the way to get their dishes first if they could.
Shirley was a bright girl and it hadn’t taken her long to catch on to what they were up to. If they could serve more tables, they got more tips and it didn’t take much to see that some of them were ruthless and selfish, wanting all the best customers for themselves.
‘We’re all supposed to have our own set tables,’ Tosy had told her at the end of the first day. She’d done the work before so had already started to serve customers while Shirley was still learning. ‘But if some of them see customers going to another table, they’ll tell them it’s reserved so they use theirs.’
‘But that’s dishonest…’
‘They don’t care,’ the other girl had said and gave her a friendly smile. ‘I know this is your first time, Shirley, so I’m warning you. Don’t stand back politely and let them get to the cooks’ station first. If it’s your turn, get there, load your tray and go, and then look for the next table and show people to it – otherwise, you’ll be left with the worst clients.’
‘Who are the worst clients?’ Shirley had asked, puzzled. Surely, they were all the same?
‘Elderly couples or gentlemen on their own tip the most,’ Tosy had told her with a grin. ‘Families are more difficult. The kids take ages to make up their minds and they often change it. They keep asking for more bits all the time – and then they leave you sixpence or a shilling at most. Gentlemen on their own often leave half-a-crown or a florin.’
Shirley had nodded. She thought that sounded so mercenary and awful – and she rather liked serving the children. They reminded her of her family, and one little boy had looked so much like Robin – the brother she’d loved and lost – that it had brought a lump to her throat. It was true that the tip was usually sixpence, but with a big family they didn’t have much to spare and Shirley didn’t mind; tips were extra after all, and she was being paid a wage. Besides, her father and mother had given her as much as she would need to spend and more. She’d locked the money in her suitcase and the key was carried in the pocket of the skirt she wore for work. She had it with the key to her room on a little ring and transferred it from her jacket to her skirt every morning and evening.
Once she started the proper work, Shirley found it hard but enjoyable. She liked helping her customers to make their choices and told them frankly what she thought of the food on offer. The staff were allowed to choose one main and one starter each day as their own lunch, and Shirley very much liked the tomatoes on toast or the cheese omelette with either salad or chips. As yet, she hadn’t had the fried chicken or the ham salad or the quiche; all three were very popular and she was gradually working her way through the menu so that she could give her opinion if asked.
That morning, her first customers were a family of four. They spent a few minutes deliberating over the menu, but when she was summoned most knew what they wanted.
‘Two egg and chips with beans and trifle to follow. One ham salad, one gateau – and what did you want, Sally Ann?’
The little girl pouted and frowned, at a loss to answer. She looked at Shirley for help.
‘Why don’t you have some ham and chips?’ she suggested. All children ate most of the chips, but often left whatever was with them. ‘Or a fried egg and chips?’
‘Can I have one of those?’ Sally Ann pointed to something on a plate being carried by and Shirley smiled.
‘That’s a toasted tea cake with butter and jam.’
‘Yes, please,’ the child said and smiled. ‘And ice cream after please…’
‘Yes, of course,’ Shirley said and turned to her father. ‘Anything to drink, sir?’
‘Fizzy Vimto for the children please – and I’ll have a glass of shandy. My wife would like?’ He raised his brows at her.
‘Just a glass of iced water.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Shirley said and smiled, taking her order into the kitchen. She just made it before a plump girl named Rita barged into her, trying to make her move on. Shirley held her ground and gave her the look she’d seen Maureen give difficult customers in the shop. ‘I believe it is my turn,’ she said and gave her order to the cook’s assistant, who nodded and began to plate up her bread, butter and drinks.
Her tray loaded with the complimentary bread and butter and the drinks, Shirley returned to her table and unloaded. Another family had just arrived at her second table and she stopped to take their order, getting back to collect her first order just as it was served piping hot.
‘Those egg and chips are mine,’ Rita claimed rudely, trying to grab them.
‘I think that order is mine,’ Shirley insisted as the teacake and ham salad was added to the tray.
‘Table four,’ the cook’s assistant said, which was Shirley’s order.
Rita glared at her and deliberately barged her as she passed by, almost causing her to lose the tray’s balance and drop something.
‘Careful,’ Shirley said, frowning at her.
‘You’re the one who wants to take care,’ Rita threatened.
‘Leave her alone,’ Tosy was suddenly there at Shirley’s side, glaring a
t the plump waitress. ‘You’re a bully, Rita Jason, but if you do that again, I’ll report you to the management.’
‘And you want to take care, too,’ Rita hissed, then swooped onto her order and carried it off in triumph.
‘Take no notice of her,’ Tosy advised. ‘She’s a bully if you let her be – but put her in her place and she folds.’
Shirley nodded. ‘We had them at school just the same. Thanks, Tosy. She isn’t very nice, but I shan’t let her bully me, don’t worry.’ It was nice of Richard’s friend to look out for her, she thought.
She carried her tray to table four and unloaded the plates carefully, making sure everything was as it should be before she went to take the order from her third and fourth tables. The dining room was filling up and Shirley knew that all the tables would eventually be filled with customers – which made it foolish to fight for customers in her opinion. Shirley had six tables to look after and each of them would probably be used twice, so she would need to serve two courses and the drinks, clear and reset for the next serving each lunchtime. She found it hard work to keep the families happy, as they always ordered more or different things after they’d been served; children sometimes got their order then didn’t like it and asked for something else. The waitress had to be on her toes, watching all her tables and looking after the customers’ needs.
Her first family that morning ate everything and then asked for their bill, tipped her sixpence and left. Shirley cleared their table and put the clean cloth and cutlery down and then went to serve meals to two of her other tables. When she looked round, she saw an elderly couple seated at her table. It was the only free table left. She walked up to them with a smile.
‘Good morning, sir, madam – have you seen the menu?’
‘Oh yes, dear,’ the elderly lady said with a sweet smile. ‘We come here every day of our holiday, but we haven’t been on your table before…’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Shirley said. ‘What would you like today?’