Shilling a Pound Pears

by Claire Rayner

  “Eat it!” John hissed. “And look as tough you’re enjoying it!”

  Jojo, after one incredulous look of pure joy, grabbed the nut, and nothing loth, set to work with a will, champing blissfully with his sharp white teeth.

  It worked like a charm. A rather distrait woman, hurrying by with a loaded basket in one hand, and dragging an unwilling small girl with the other, was pulled back by the child, who saw Jojo and whined plaintively, “Mum! G'is a piece of that! Mu-um! I want a piece of that.”

  The woman stopped, peered at the huge home-made sign that read “Coconut—fresh and clean—threepence a slice,” and with a lot of irritating tutting, fished a threepenny bit out of her purse. The child grabbed her piece of nut, handed to her in a piece of greaseproof paper by Hilary, and went on her way, happily munching.

  Another child, coming in the opposite direction, spotted her, and tugged at his other’s hand—and within minutes another five children had nagged their mothers into buying.

  “Psychology, that’s what that is.” John said to Stephen, as they began to serve the first customers who now began to stop at the stall. “Just let people see one person’s got something, and they all want it. Just get a few people walking round the market eating coconut and we’ll be well away.”

  He was absolutely right. The morning got hotter, and as more and more people bought pieces of the coconut—which was indeed very cool and refreshing—still more came to buy, some of them actually looking for the stall. The stall was never empty of customers, and what with the people who bought fruit, and the people who were clamouring for pieces of coconut, the eight young salesmen didn’t get a chance to stop and look around them.

  The cigar box began to fill up, and by half-past eleven, much to Barbara’s delight, the money they had already taken had to be stowed in various pockets among the company, for the little “till” threatened to overflow with crumpled bank notes and gleaming silver and bronze copper coins. They refilled the sink from the bread-bin several time, and by twelve o'clock, Richard said delightedly, “We’ll have to cut some more—we won’t have enough for the afternoon at this rate.”

  “Can’t,” Hilary said, fishing pieces out of the sink with rapid thrusts of her cake tongs, as she served eager customers. “There aren’t any more shelled—who’s got time to nip back and crack some?”

  “Help!” Jane looked worried for a moment, then said hastily to Richard, who had stopped to swig a drink from a bottle of lemonade to wet his parched throat, “How about Gregory?”

  Richard nodded, and wiping his hand across his mouth, put two fingers between his teeth, and copied the shrill whistle Gregory had used to call his four friends the first time they had met them.

  With their usual speed, the five small boys came dodging through the crowds in answer, and panted up to them.

  “What’s up!” Winston asked anxiously, his white teeth gleaming in his brown face. “You got trouble with ol' Barker?”

  Richard rapidly told them why he had called them, finishing businesslike, “Ten bob for you if you crack another hundred nuts and get 'em here before two o'clock.”

  “Make it fifteen bob and you got yourself a deal,” Gregory said promptly.

  Richard made a face at him, and fished in his pocket for the key to the house.

  “Extortionist,” he muttered, and tossed the key over. “O.K. Fifteen bob it is.” The boys grinned happily, Gregory fielded the key expertly, and they disappeared into the milling crowds in the middle of the market.

  There wasn’t the usual lunch-time- lull, for although the fruit buyers dropped off in number, as they normally did between one and two o'clock, lunch-time strollers were ready and willing to buy the coconut. By the time the five boys returned, at two o'clock, carrying the shelled nuts in some big brown-paper carrier bags they had managed to find in the Coopers’ kitchen, the first batch was quite sold out, and they all had to set to, cutting the fresh lot into slices, dropping them into the clear water. Even with most of them cutting, they were hard put to it to keep up with Hilary’s flashing tongs as piece after piece found its way into eager hands, and threepences threatened to overflow the cigar box yet again.

  Then, as Richard cut the last piece into its ten slices, and dropped it into the bread bin (for the sink was full at last) a man in a brown overcoat walked up to the stall, and stood watching for a moment, before calling Richard over with a jerk of his head.

  “You in charge here?” the man asked.

  “What if I am?” Richard asked belligerently. “What’s it to do with you?”

  “Quite a lot,” the man said equably, peering at Hilary as she served three slices to a boy in blue jeans. “I’m from the police—plain-clothes.” He looked up at Richard’s suddenly crestfallen face. He laughed. “Not to worry. Just checking up on a complaint.”

  “A complaint?” Jane had come over too, to find out what the man wanted. “What sort of complaint?”

  “We were told you lot were contravening the Clean Food Act,” the man said, never taking his eyes off Hilary and the sinkful of coconuts. “There’re pretty stiff laws about the way food’s handled, you know.”

  “Why shouldn’t we sell the nuts like this?” Richard said defensively. “People buy apples and cherries and things and eat them right away—and that stuff hasn’t been washed. These pieces of nut have.”

  The man looked at Richard and smiled again. “Oho! Barrack-room lawyer, are you? Yes—I suppose you’ve got a point there— but apples and cherries aren’t necessarily sold for immediate consumption, are they? The seller’s entitled to expect his buyers to wash the stuff before they eat it. If they don’t that’s the buyers lookout. Now, pieces of ready-cut coconut—that’s different, isn’t it.”

  Richard made a face, and tried another tack. “We’ve done our best to make sure the nuts are quite safe to eat. Every piece is in water—and that water’s changing constantly—see?” He pointed to the rigging of rubber tubing running from the shop to the sink, and the piece of tubing running to drain. “And we don’t touch the pieces once they’re washed—my sister’s picking every one up with tongs, so they don’t get handled. And we’ve got a cover over the sink, too, when we aren’t actually selling pieces from it.”

  “All right, all right,” the man said soothingly. I’ve got eyes in my head. I can see for myself. And you’re quite right. As far as I can see, you aren’t doing anything at all dangerous, not breaking the law. So, like I said—not to worry!”

  Richard relaxed, and said a little sheepishly, “Oh, well. Sorry I was a bit snappy. But you never know who people—I mean, you can’t be sure—”

  The man nodded understandingly, and turned to go. “That’s all right, boy. I know what you mean. Just make sure you go on handling those nuts the way you are, and you’re O.K. as far as we’re concerned. See you!” He began to walk away.

  “Just a minute—” Jane put a tentative hand on his brown sleeve. “Can I ask— I mean— well, who was it made the complaint?”

  The man looked at her earnest face consideringly, and then said slowly, “Well, I’m not at liberty to tell you that, I’m afraid— but I’ll say this: there’s someone around here who isn’t too fond of you lot. Just watch out, will you? And you know where we are if you want us.” He nodded at them in a friendly way, and went off down the market.

  They went back to the stall slowly to answer the others’ clamouring questions. When Richard had explained, he said worriedly, “I thought things had been too quiet. That was Barker who complained, I’ll lay a pound to a penny. And something tells me that if he can’t get rid of us legally, he’ll try the other way again. We'd better keep our eyes open.” The others nodded soberly and returned to work.

  But things stayed “too quiet” for the rest of the ay, and for the rest of that week too. By Friday, they had finally sold every one of Jojo’s nuts, and made a very handsome profit into the bargain. Indeed, they had done so well out of them, that they seriously considered buying more coco
nuts, and continuing their “special line.”

  “It’s a tempting idea,” John said, in his practical way, “but I don’t think we ought to let the idea run away with us. We’ve been extraordinarily lucky with the weather. It mightn’t stay as hot as it’s been this week, and I don’t think people will buy slices of nut when it’s old or rainy, do you?”

  So, after much discussion, they decided to stop when they were winning, as Richard put it, and dismantled their patent coconut fountain, not without considerable regret, particularly on Richard’s part, who, as its inventor, was quite fond of his contraption. Sophie, in the sweet shop, however, was clearly glad to get rid of it, and told Richard frankly that she'd just about had enough of it, what with the way the tubing tended to leak on the shop floor, and the difficulty of having to fill kettles for her morning cup of tea from the sink on the stall.

  They had a rip-roaring Saturday, to finish off a very good week, and at the end of it, there was nearly a hundred pounds profit to be put away against Yossell’s return.

  “Very nice indeed,” Jane said, flushed with pleasure, as she folded the crumpled bank notes carefully, late on Saturday night. “I’m having a marvellous time, and all this money to— I can’t remember every enjoying a holiday more, can you?” She looked enquiringly at the others, who were sitting round the table over the last cup of hot chocolate they always had before falling wearily into bed.

  The boys and Barbara agreed with her enthusiastically, and even Richard, after a momentary hesitation, agreed that, taking it all round, there could have been a worse way to spend the holiday.

  “But don’t get too excited,” he said warningly, as they put the money away carefully between the cover of an old encyclopedia on the bookshelf, and made their way towards bed. “We’ve still a fortnight to go, and though we’ve heard nothing much from Barker, he’s still around. Any anything might happen.”

  Chapter Eleven

  WEDNESDAY started out as bad a day from the very beginning. Richard and Hilary overslept, and consequently everyone else did—which meant that the buying party, led by Richard on this particular morning, got to the wholesale market late. This meant that they had to lose a lot of time queuing to get into the market, and by the time they got in the best produce was gone. It was small wonder that Richard was in another of his towering tempers by the time they got back to the stall, only to find that the others still in that dazed condition that comes when you’ve overslept, and haven’t had time for any breakfast, still hadn’t got it up. It was nine o'clock by the time they reached the pitch, and the market was already buzzing and shoving with customers.

  “We’ve lost about ten pounds’ worth of good trade this morning,” Richard grumbled. “Why couldn’t you wake up in time, Hilary? it’s your fault.”

  “It is not!” Hilary said furiously. “You’ve got an alarm clock to—why didn’t you get up in time?”

  “Oh, stop bickering, you two,” Jane said wearily. “Bad enough we’re late without a lot of childish niggling.”

  “Childish yourself,” flashed Hilary, with a regrettable lapse into extreme childishness. “Don’t be so sanctimonious.”

  And then Peter came gasping up to the stall, obviously having run all the way from the supermarket, for his white coat was flapping round his shoulders. He looked round wildly, grabbed Barbara and Jojo, who were both leaning sleepily against the back of the stall, and ignoring their surprised protects hustled them both away.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder. “Hang on.”

  The others were too surprised to do anything but stare after him. He came back after about five minutes, and collapsed breathlessly against the stall.

  “What in the name of all that’s holy are you up to?” Richard asked icily. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Where are Barbara and Jojo?”

  Peter shook his head, unable to talk for breathlessness. And before he could explain, the man in the brown raincoat came up out of the crowds to nod unsmilingly at the young people.

  “Morning,” he said. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  Richard looked at him suspiciously. “Very nice,” he said guardedly. “What can we do for you on such a nice morning?”

  The man shoved his hands deep into is coat pockets and teetered back on his heels, looking the group over with considering eyes.

  The he said: “Another complaint. And rather a serious one this time.”

  “Now what is it?” Richard said wearily. “We’ve finished with the coconuts, we’ve got a licence—”

  The man shook his head. “Nothing to do with those things. Matter of exploiting of juveniles.”

  “What?” Hilary stared at him in amazement. “What’s that?”

  “We’ve had a report that there are two children under the age of twelve working on this stall. And that’s against the law. What have you to say about that?”

  Peter had regained his breath by now, and stepped forward to join in the conversation.

  “What juveniles?” he said smoothly, looking round at the other innocently. “All this lot look well over fourteen to me. They’re entitled to work, aren’t they? As long as they don’t work too long hours?”

  “Hello, Minsky.” The man nodded briefly at him. “Don’t horn in boy. This is none of your concern.”

  “Yes it is,” Hilary said swiftly. “He’s an—an equal partner in this enterprise.” She smiled at Peter. “And as he says, where are the juveniles? I’m seventeen, and so is my cousin here—and my brother and Peter are nineteen, and the boys are all over fourteen. We’re all allowed to work, aren’t we? Lots of people our age have full-time jobs.”

  The man sighed, and said patiently, “I’m not arguing about you lot. I’m interested in the other two—little boy and a young girl. Don’t try to come the innocents over me. I saw 'em here myself the other day— though I didn’t think they were actually working at the time.”

  “Oh!” Richard gave a nice performance of a young man suddenly understanding what the conversation was about. “Those two!”

  “Those two,” mimicked the man, “Yes, they’re the ones. What about them? Are they, or are they not, working on stall? We’ve had a report that they are.”

  Peter gave a ghost of a wink at the others, and turned again to the man.

  “Well, I ask you, Can you see them? They aren’t here now, are they?”

  “Hmm.” The man looked around, and then back at them. “O.K. They aren’t here now, so I can’t say anything about it. But be warned, you lot. We’ve had a lot of trouble about this sort of thing— kids working and being exploited— and we’re dead set on putting a stop to it. So make sure they don’t work here.”

  “Look,” Richard said. “Those two—they’re our kid brother and sister. Is there anything against just— well, just being with us, while we work? I mean, you wouldn’t want them to be running riot round the streets, would you? And we’ve got to keep an eye on them, haven’t we?”

  “Where’s your folks? Can’t the kids stay at home with them?”

  “They’re away—out of town for a few days,” Hilary said. “So the young ones have to stay with us.”

  The man looked dubious. “Well, all right— but make sure they don’t work. No serving, no fetching and carrying, no handling money, O.K.?”

  It was at this point that Barbara and Jojo suddenly reappeared.

  “Is it all right to come back now, Peter,” Barbara said breathlessly. “Jojo wouldn’t stop at your grandmother’s another minute, and anyway, I want to come and sport the till out.”

  The man whirled and looked at them. “Hello, you two,” he drawled. “Where’ve you been all this time?”

  “Peter made us go to his grandmother’s,” Barbara said blithely. “Something to do with the law and a policeman coming—what are you making faces at me for, Hilary? Hasn’t the policeman gone?” She peered round enquiringly.

  The man put his hand out, looked warningly at the grimacing Hilary. “Never m
ind that for a minute.” He smiled at the two young ones pleasantly. “Tell me, what do you two do on this stall?”

  “I look after the money,” Barbara said importantly. “I’m jolly good at arithmetic, so I do all the change and that.”

  “An' I look after the paper bags, and put things on the scales sometimes,” Jojo said shrilly, not to be outdone. “I work very hard, I do. Just as much as the others—” His voice faltered to a stop as he became aware of the consternation on the faces of his sister and brother and cousins. “What’s the matter, Jane? Have I said something I shouldn’t?” he asked, wide eyed and puzzled, as he looked round at them.

  “So they don’t work, eh?” the man said, turning again to look at the guilty faces around him. “And you must have known it wasn’t right, or you wouldn’t have shifted 'em so sharp when you thought someone might come investigating.” He looked at Peter. “What happened, Minsky? Got a tip-off did you?

  Peter shrugged sulkily, “Well, what if I did?” Believe me, these kids aren’t doing anything they shouldn’t—there’s no need for them to, anyway. There’s six people working this stall, apart from them, and what the two kids do, they do because they enjoy it.

  “That’s perfectly true,” Hilary said eagerly. “If you knew Jojo like we do, you'd know you couldn’t get him to do anything he didn’t enjoy anyway.”

  “Never mind the excuses.” The man pulled a notebook from his pocket. “I’m disappointed in you lot. Thought you were sensible kids—but you can’t be too careful, these days.” He looked at Richard. “Now then, you’re the one in charge, I gather. Let’s have your names and addresses, and the address where we can reach the parents of these kids—have to lodge a formal report on this.”

  “Don’t do that—” Jane said hastily, and then bit her lips as the man turned to stare at her.