She looked out of the window as the train picked up speed, realizing that the fog was clearing and it was starting to get light. She’d been up all night. Leaning back with a sigh, she closed her eyes and within a few minutes, the rhythm of the train had lulled her into a deep sleep.
The train stopped a couple of times, but still she didn’t stir. The piercing shriek of the whistle and the whooshing sound of another train passing jerked her out of her troubled dreams. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, gasping as she saw the green fields and trees rushing past. Where on earth was she?
The train slowed, rounded a bend and pulled into the station. Ellie peered out, looking for the station sign. Chelmsford – how did she get here? She got off the train and stood for a minute looking around her. The platform was crowded, men in suits carrying briefcases, girls in smart two-piece costumes, workmen in dungarees. They all had somewhere to go, Ellie thought, a sob catching in her throat.
She went into the ladies’ cloakroom, feeling grubby and unkempt. As she splashed her face with cold water and combed her hair, she tried to work out what to do. She didn’t know anyone here but there was no one in London who’d help her either. She couldn’t go back. She’d just have to find a place of her own. She had enough money to tide her over till she could get a job – she’d have to draw some out of the post office and then set about finding lodgings.
Outside the station she looked up and down the busy road, trying to decide which way to go. The railway station seemed to be some distance from the town centre.
After walking for what seemed to be a long time she realized she’d made the wrong decision. The houses had petered out, giving way to a group of small factories and workshops. She should have gone the other way.
She sat down at the edge of the road, shivering as the cold of the damp and misty autumn day seeped through her clothes. Her feet were hurting and she took off her shoes, massaging her toes. Last night’s blisters had burst and her stockings were stuck to her feet. She’d have to draw some money out of the post office to buy new stockings and some plasters. That was if she could find a post office.
As she turned to retrace her steps, her brain fogged with exhaustion, she almost missed the sign: Best Breakfast this side of London – stop at Trev’s Transport Café.
It was probably too late for breakfast but at least she could get a cup of tea.
The potholed gravel in front of the long, low building was empty as Ellie stumbled towards the café. Trev’s breakfast can’t be that great if none of the lorries stop here, she thought. But at that moment she didn’t really care. It wasn’t until she reached the door that she saw the closed sign. She bit her lip in dismay – surely these places stayed open all day and most of the night?
She peered through the windows. But there was no sign of life. What should she do now – carry on walking or wait for the café to open?
The decision was made for her when her legs started to tremble and she knew that if she didn’t sit down, she’d pass out. The events of the previous night had at last caught up with her.
She sat on an empty lemonade crate and leaned her head against the wooden fence which enclosed a small yard to the side of the building. She was sheltered from the keen East Anglian wind here. At least it wasn’t raining and her feet didn’t hurt so much.
She’d almost dozed off when she felt a warm tongue on her cheek. She leapt up in alarm, backing away from the huge Alsatian.
‘Well, what do we have here?’ A big man with a shiny red face and thinning black hair was looking down at her. ‘Down, Rex.’ He pulled the dog away from her. ‘He won’t hurt you. He’s a big softie really.’ He bent to stroke the animal, giving a deep chuckle which shook his meaty frame.
Ellie reached out and tentatively ruffled the dog’s fur, smiling when he licked her hand. The man reminded her a bit of Sid – maybe that was why she decided to trust him.
When he asked what she was doing so far from town, she said, ‘I was hoping to get a cup of tea. But the café’s closed.’
‘Well, I’ll open up – just for you,’ the man said, laughing at her expression. ‘I’m Trev – Trevor Ridley at your service.’ He gave a mock bow, took a key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the gate at the side of the café.
‘Come on through,’ he said. ‘I’m not due to open for an hour or so yet. But you look dead beat. You can tell me what you’re doing out here on your own while I put the kettle on.’
She hadn’t told him the whole story of course – just a little white lie about her Gran having died and that she was on her way to stay with her sister. He’d given her a stern lecture on the dangers of hitch-hiking and, when she’d mentioned needing a job, had offered to take her on temporarily until she found something better. Norah only worked part-time and he was desperate for another pair of hands.
Six months later, she was still here. She picked up a tray and went to clear the tables. The door banged open, bringing in a blast of cold March wind. The men sitting near the door grumbled as usual, but their moans turned to laughter as a thin little woman in a plastic mac and brightly printed headscarf stamped in, swearing. ‘Bloody bike – got a puncture, didn’t I? Had to walk to work, didn’t I?’
Norah was often late and her excuses were colourful and varied. Ellie wondered why Trevor kept her on when she was so unreliable. But he’d told her that Norah’s husband had been his best mate when they were in the forces during the war. They’d both come through it all right and Bob had gone back to his old job in the silk mill on the other side of Chelmsford, the place where he and Norah had both worked since leaving school. Not long afterwards he’d been killed in an accident with one of the machines, leaving Norah very badly off. Trevor had given her the job out of sympathy and now he hadn’t the heart to fire her. Besides, he said, when she was here she worked like a Trojan and the customers liked her.
Ellie liked her too, although her tongue could be a bit sharp at times. But there was a rough kindness beneath the brusque manner.
Now, Norah breezed through the café, pulling off her headscarf as she went to hang up her coat. When she came back, tying her flowered wrap-around overall and patting her hair into place, she grabbed a tray and darted between the tables, loading the dirty plates and mugs dangerously high.
‘You get on with the sandwiches, love,’ she said. ‘I’ll get this lot cleared. I expect you’re all behind with me being late.’ She dashed around as she spoke, returning with the loaded tray and pushing the swing door open with her hip.
‘Sorry, Trev. I’ll make it up to you.’ The words were flung over her shoulder and by the time Trevor turned to answer, she was gone again.
‘She may be little, but she’s a real bundle of dynamite, that Norah,’ one of the men said, coming up to the counter with his mug held out for a refill. Ellie laughed and poured the tea, then started buttering bread for the sandwiches. She was glad the other woman had turned up. The work was easier when it was shared. Maybe it wasn’t so bad here after all.
She was absorbed in her work when Norah came back with her empty tray. But she looked up quickly at the older woman’s words.
‘By the way, Trev. I saw your missus when I was in town yesterday. She asked me if you’d come to your senses yet.’
Trevor gave Norah a lift home in his old van when the café closed that afternoon. But for Ellie, work wasn’t finished for the day. She wiped the counter down, put out clean mugs, changed the tablecloths and laid the tables for the afternoon and evening rush. They weren’t usually quite so busy during the second session.
It was mostly fried food, sometimes steak-and-kidney or shepherd’s pie. But these days Trevor didn’t have time for all the preparation, although he was a good cook and Trev’s Café used to be famous for its home cooking.
As Ellie worked, she wondered what Norah had meant by her remark about his wife. She looked up at the photo on the mantelpiece. Gloria Ridley was a pretty blonde with a well-developed figure who looked younger than her ye
ars. She had her arm round a young girl of about thirteen and both of them were laughing into the camera. The girl, Julie, had dark hair and brown eyes like her father.
Ellie picked the photo up, wondering what had made Gloria leave a nice man like Trevor – he was kind, hard-working and, as Norah had told her, he idolized Julie. She was still holding the photo when Trevor came in, Rex gambolling at his heels. He took it from her and sat down at the table in the middle of the room, sighing heavily and gazing at the picture. The dog put his head on Trevor’s knee and he fondled it absently.
‘You know, Helen – that day I first saw you – I thought it was Julie come back to see me. You still remind me of her a bit – not just your hair. You’ve got spirit – you don’t let people walk all over you.’
If only he knew, Ellie thought. It had taken a great deal of determination to stand up for herself – to stick her chin out and pretend she didn’t care when the customers tried it on. But Trevor was right. No one was going to tread on her ever again. She turned away and started to dish up their meal. It wouldn’t be long before they had to open again and they should make the most of the brief break.
When she put Trevor’s plate in front of him, he was still staring at the photograph.
‘You must miss them very much,’ Ellie said, sitting down opposite them. She hadn’t liked to mention his family before but she couldn’t help being curious, especially after what Norah had said earlier about him coming to his senses.
‘It’s my fault she went,’ Trevor said. ‘I thought she’d come back after a couple of weeks – just teaching me a lesson, she said. But it’s been more than a year.’ He sighed and pushed his plate away.
‘What did you do? Was it something very bad?’ Ellie wondered if he’d had an affair. But poor Trev – what chance did he have, working all the hours there were?
Trevor laughed. ‘If you can call being a boring lump with no ambition something bad,’ he said. ‘She was right though. I’m happy here – I like having my own business, I like cooking and I like knowing my customers, having a bit of a laugh with them all.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Ellie couldn’t see that Gloria had anything to complain about – unless she didn’t like having to work as hard as her husband. She had seen in the short time she’d been here that it needed more than one person to keep the business going.
‘Gloria had plans – big ideas. And why not? When we first got married I was a chef in a big hotel – I was trained by a top French chef – cordon bleu, me.’ Trevor stuck his chest out and grinned. ‘Gloria was pleased I wanted my own business and we saved for years. But this was the only place we could afford. Gloria wanted somewhere posh – worthy of my talents, she said.’
Ellie nodded sympathetically. ‘Is that what she meant by coming to your senses – she wants you to sell up and move on?’
‘That’s right, love. But the posh stuff isn’t really me, love.’ Trevor sighed and ran his hands through his thinning hair. ‘Gloria took Julie and went to live in town – said she’d come back when I saw sense.’
‘Do you miss them?’ Ellie asked.
‘I did at first – Julie more than anything. I let the business slide for a while. Then Norah gave me a good talking-to.’ He gave a little laugh and Ellie smiled.
‘She’s good at that,’ she said.
‘You can say that again. Anyway, I pulled meself together and now at least I’m doing well enough to make sure Julie’s OK.’ He pulled his plate towards him and started to eat. But Ellie noticed that he left most of it.
She scraped the remains into Rex’s bowl and washed up while Trevor rolled himself a cigarette. It was nearly time to open up again and she went to switch on the illuminated sign at the entrance to the car park.
It was late when the last customer left and they locked up. Ellie cleared the tables and relaid them for the morning before going through to the kitchen and starting to run hot water into the large stainless-steel sink.
‘Leave that,’ Trevor said. ‘You’ve done enough for one day. Norah can do it in the morning.’
‘How will she get here without her bike? It’s quite a way from the village.’
‘I’ll pick her up in the van first thing – and she’d better be ready.’
Ellie laughed at Trevor’s mock angry expression.
‘Seriously, Helen. I had a chat with her earlier and it seems she’s not been too well lately – she keeps getting these pains in her legs. But she didn’t want to let me down, she said.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Silly mare. Anyway, I’ve arranged to pick her up and take her home – at least until she’s feeling better. And she’s promised to see the doctor about her problem.’
‘You’re a good boss, Trev,’ Ellie told him.
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. ‘Like I said, Norah’s a friend, not just an employee.’ He stood up. ‘You’d better be getting off to bed. It’s been a long day.’
Ellie went along the passage to her room. The pictures pinned to the wall above her bed – a black-and-white enlargement of Pat Boone and a coloured poster of Dickie Valentine, all dark curly hair and white teeth – reminded her that this was still Julie’s room. A china doll in a pale-blue crinoline sat on top of the chest of drawers, next to a framed photo of Trevor and Gloria. A bookcase against the far wall held School Friend and Bunty annuals and a selection of pony stories. Perhaps Gloria had told her they wouldn’t be away for long. Ellie wondered what would happen to her if they came back. Where would she go?
Next morning Trevor was in his usual place at the stove, expertly flipping sausages and bacon so that they browned evenly. He looked up as she came through to the café and put down his spatula. ‘I’m just off to get Norah – won’t be long. Keep an eye on these for me. If any lorries turn up, you can let them in and take their orders. Won’t hurt them to wait.’
Left alone in the café, only the quiet gurgling of the tea urn and the spattering of the frying food breaking the silence, Ellie’s concerns about the future resurfaced. She knew she couldn’t stay here for ever. Already there’d been sly remarks and knowing looks about Trev’s ‘new girl’. Perhaps she should be looking for another job, or at least somewhere else to live.
Beyond the steamy window, the pink-streaked sky heralded another bright spring day and, already, a couple of lorries had turned into the car park.
Ellie unlocked the door and switched on the outside lights indicating that Trev’s was open for business. She stood by the open door, breathing in the country smells until another lorry pulled into the car park, bringing with it a whiff of diesel, and listening to the roar of traffic, reminding her of London; but the noise and smells were all she missed, she told herself.
By the time Trevor returned with Norah, the café was full and Ellie was rushed off her feet. There was no time to dwell on her problems while trying to sort out who had ordered two eggs with their sausages and bacon, and who wanted fried bread but no tomatoes, or bacon but no eggs. Even in a brief lull there were tables to be cleared and re-set, sandwiches to make, tea to be poured. Norah, in deference to her poor legs, was spared the running around, ensconced in the kitchen, up to her elbows in sudsy hot water.
Ellie and Trevor worked side by side until the morning rush was over and he locked the door behind the last customer. This two-hour break before they opened again for the evening was usually just as busy with preparations and clearing up. But today Norah had worked hard behind the scenes. The kitchen surfaces were sparkling, the floor had been mopped and the smell of something other than fried food warmed the air. The table in the centre had been laid with a white cloth and sparkling cutlery. As Ellie and Trevor sat down, Norah brought a steaming meat pie, its crust light and crisp and golden, to the table.
‘What’s all this in aid of then?’ Trevor asked, holding his plate out for Norah’s generous dollop of mashed potato.
Norah flushed. ‘It’s just my way of saying thank you for being so understanding about my problems. You know how much I need
this job – not just for the money.’ She flushed, then with a return of her old tartness, she said, ‘Go on then – eat up. Don’t let it go cold.’
‘Good pie, Norah. Can’t beat home cooking,’ he said with his mouth full.
Norah went red again, and with a sudden flash of insight Ellie realized that the older woman was in love with Trevor. And why not? With her hair in its tight bun, her wrap-around overall and her ‘poor legs’, Ellie had thought her old, comparing her with Gran. But she’d been at school with the glamorous Gloria and must be about the same age – barely into her forties.
And, knowing the glamorous Gloria with her red mouth and blonde locks, Norah must feel she couldn’t compete. Poor Norah, Ellie thought. She would never let Trevor know how she felt, while Trevor, being a man, wouldn’t see the treasure right under his nose.
As she put the remains of the pie into the fridge, Ellie smiled. Norah wasn’t silly. She must know how a man like Trevor could be wooed – hence the home-made steak-and-kidney pie.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A few days later, when they were locking up after the morning and lunchtime session, Norah asked Trevor to take her in to Chelmsford instead of going straight home.
‘How long will you be? I’ve got to open up again at five,’ he said.
‘I only want you to drop me off at the hospital. The doctor’s given me a letter about my veins. I don’t expect you to wait around for me. I can go home on the bus,’ she said.
Next day she told them she wouldn’t have to wait long for her operation.
‘Well, until you get it done, I’m not having you standing,’ Trevor said. He found a tall stool in the shed out the back and cleaned it up for her. Now she could ‘take the weight off’ as she put it, while washing up or doing the sandwiches. Not that Norah had a lot of weight to take off. Her problems had been caused by years of standing at the machines when she worked in the silk mill.
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