by Pam Weaver
‘What do you mean?’
‘She was fiddling the till. I noticed takings were down a bit weeks ago so I decided to keep an eye on her, and though I’m sorry to say it, Pearl, I had to check up on you too. It didn’t take me long to realise that Alice was always eager to take over the counter, and when I started to leave it more often, she got greedy.’
‘Well, Bernie, that’s got rid of her,’ Dolly said as she joined them. ‘You’d better stick a card in the window again and let’s hope we don’t have a long wait before someone applies for the job. It’s a bloody shame. I liked the girl and still can’t believe that she was robbing us.’
‘She was at it, all right, and for a good few bob too.’
‘Huh, well, at least you caught her out. The trouble is it ain’t the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last. Finding staff we can trust isn’t easy.’
‘We’ve got a good one in Pearl.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Dolly said, her face softening, and touching Pearl’s arm she added, ‘Until we find another waitress, I’m afraid you’ll have to cope on your own again.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘You’re a good kid and I’ll stick a bit extra in your wages again. In fact, we’ll give you a rise too. I know you’re only seventeen, but good staff are hard to find and we don’t want to lose you.’
Pearl was happy and relieved. She hadn’t really wanted to find another job and it would be awful to leave the Dolbys in the lurch. She liked working in the café, and as long as Kevin left her alone it would be fine, especially as she’d be earning more money.
When the costermongers began to arrive they showed no surprise that Pearl was covering the tables on her own. Waitresses came and went frequently in the café, but it was nice when some said they hoped she wouldn’t be joining the exodus. She was coping with the rush, but only just, and wondered how long they would have to wait before finding a replacement for Alice.
‘What happened to Boadicea?’ Derek asked during a lull.
Pearl leaned forward, saying quietly, ‘She got the sack for fiddling the till.’
‘Huh, I ain’t surprised. You must have been right about her pocketing your tips too.’
‘Yes, and maybe I should have told Bernie.’
Neither noticed that Bernie had left the counter and Pearl jumped when he spoke from behind her. ‘So, she was diddling you too, and yes, you should have told me.’
‘I … I’m sorry, but I was too frightened to accuse her without proof.’
‘I tried to keep an eye on her too, but couldn’t catch her at it,’ Derek said.
‘She was a fly one, that’s for sure, but don’t worry, the word’s already going round.’
Derek chuckled. ‘Talk about jungle drums. I doubt the girl will get another job in this area.’
‘One of the factories might take her on.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
Pearl saw customers waiting and, leaving Derek and Bernie chatting, she went to take their orders. Soon after, Frank Hanwell came in, and as he took a seat their eyes met. She had another customer to serve before going to his table, but was soon by his side.
‘Hello, Frank, what can I get you?’
‘I’ll have the sausages, onion and mash. I’ve got a bit of good news too. Eric seems to be coming round. He’s talking to me again, and last night he let me tuck him into bed.’
‘That’s wonderful.’
‘It’s a step forward, but I wonder if we’ll ever see him smile again. He’s still unnaturally quiet, and he won’t go to school. Not only that, my old woman wants us to move out of the area. Eric won’t come near the market and she thinks it would help if we make a fresh start somewhere else.’
‘Maybe she’s right.’
‘I’ve lived here all my life, and the stall was handed down to me from my father. It’s all I know.’
‘There are other markets, Frank.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so, but it’s still gonna be hard.’
‘If it helps Eric, it’ll be worth it.’
He nodded, but then three other costermongers sat at his table, bringing the conversation to an end. The pace slowed a little after that, but each time Pearl passed Frank’s table, she couldn’t help noticing how distant and distracted he looked. The other men were chatting, but Frank was picking at his food, his eyes faraway. Five minutes later he called Pearl over and, as though talking to her earlier had sealed his decision, his voice was lighter as he spoke.
‘Bring us all a cup of tea, would you, love? I’ve got something to tell this lot.’
Pearl saw the puzzled glances that passed between the men but hurried to the counter, returning with the teas to hear Frank telling them that he was leaving the market. ‘My stall’s up for grabs. If you know anyone who might be interested in taking the pitch, let me know.’
‘Blimey, Frank, what brought this on?’ Charlie Slater asked.
‘Her indoors thinks that Eric needs to get out of this area, and I reckon she’s right.’
They all nodded in understanding, Charlie saying, ‘I know a decent geezer who’s after a pitch. How much do you want for it?’
Pearl moved away, her face showing her confusion as she went to the counter.
‘What’s up?’ Bernie asked.
‘Frank’s moving out of the area and is giving up his stall. There’s talk of someone buying the pitch, but I thought they rented them from the council.’
‘You’re right, they don’t own their own pitches, but it’s a busy market and a spot rarely becomes available. They’re like gold dust, so when one comes up, someone who’s willing to pay is tipped the wink.’
‘But surely anyone can apply to the council for the empty spot?’
Bernie chuckled. ‘Yeah, that might be how it’s supposed to be, but the costermongers have got unwritten rules the council knows nothing about.’
Pearl shook her head, still bewildered as she walked away, but the lunchtime rush was almost over and it was time to finish clearing the tables.
Feeling tired and washed out, Pearl was glad when her shift ended. She had an art lesson that evening, but still hadn’t managed to get a grip on seascapes. Her efforts at painting the ocean lacked depth, colour, movement, and though she had studied other paintings on the subject, her own attempts looked flat.
As she walked through the market she was frowning, hardly aware that she had reached Derek’s stall.
‘Cheer up, it might never happen,’ he quipped. ‘What are you looking so down in the mouth about?’
‘It’s nothing really. It’s just that I’ve got art classes this evening and my attempts at painting the sea are dreadful.’
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘It doesn’t help that I’ve never seen the sea.’
‘Blimey, we can soon fix that. I tell you what, I’ll take you down to Brighton on Sunday.’
Pearl’s eyes lit up. ‘Really? Oh, I’d love that.’
‘You might not be so sure when we get there. It’s nearly the end of November and it’s bound to be a bit nippy.’
‘I don’t mind. In fact I hope the sea is rough and the waves huge.’
Derek grinned. ‘You’re a strange one, Pearl. Most people want sunshine when they go to the seaside.’
‘Yes, but then the ocean would be boring. Oh, Derek, I can’t wait to see it,’ she cried, giving a little skip of delight.
He smiled again, and as a customer walked up to the stall, showing an interest in a rather large teapot, Pearl said a hurried goodbye, her steps lighter as she made for home.
Derek was lovely, he really was, and her heart warmed towards him. He might not be an oil painting, but he had a heart of gold, and though she had at first baulked at the idea of marrying him, it might not be so bad after all.
Chapter Twenty-One
On Sunday, Pearl stood on Brighton beach, gazing at the scene in wonderment. Even the pebbles under her feet held fascination as she picked her way across them, stooping t
o pick up one after another as she studied the colours and strata, just as Miss Rosen had taught her to do at the orphanage.
Moving closer to the foaming waves, Pearl stood transfixed as they ebbed and flowed. She stepped forward, jumping back like a delighted child when the next wave tumbled in, almost soaking her shoes. She laughed, turning to look at Derek as he lumbered down to her side, face red from the whipping wind.
‘Have you had enough now, love? We’ve been on the beach for an hour and I don’t know about you, but I could do with some grub.’
‘Just five more minutes,’ she begged.
‘All right, and I’m glad to see you’re looking better.’
‘It must have been something I ate, but my tummy’s fine now.’
Pearl looked up at the sky, saw gulls soaring, wings silhouetted against the dark clouds, their plaintive cries echoing in the bleak seascape. Rain began to fall, and reluctantly she dragged her eyes away, trying to hold it all in her memory. Head down, she stooped again to pick up a shell, fascinated by the texture and colour. ‘Oh, Derek, isn’t this lovely?’
‘Yeah, if you say so, but you’re getting soaked. I think we should find some shelter.’
Pearl slipped the small shell into her pocket, her heart once again going out to this lovely man. He looked so wet, miserable, his expression hangdog. All right, he wasn’t much to look at, but nowadays she hardly noticed. Instead it was his personality that shone through, and suddenly she knew without a doubt that she really did want to marry him.
Pearl grabbed his hand, smiling widely. ‘All right, come on then. Food it is.’
They scrambled across the beach, Pearl throwing a last look over her shoulder before they headed for the nearest café. She shivered as they entered the warmth, the smell of food suddenly making her stomach turn. Mo had insisted she have a huge breakfast before she left, but she’d been unable to eat more than a few mouthfuls before being sick. Now once again she felt queasy.
When the waitress came to their side, Derek ordered roast lamb, but Pearl shook her head. ‘Just a cup of tea for me, please.’
‘You need more than that,’ Derek said, looking at her with concern.
‘I had a big breakfast,’ she lied. ‘Honestly, I’m not hungry.’
He shook his head doubtfully, but said no more, and as his meal was put him front of him, Pearl looked away as he ate. The clouds thickened, rain teeming down and beating against the widows of the small café as though trying to gain admittance.
‘I reckon we’ll have to make our way home,’ Derek said as he finished his meal and sipped his tea. ‘I can’t see the weather brightening up.’
Pearl didn’t mind. She had seen the sea, it was etched into her memory, and once again her fingers itched to paint. Derek paid for the meal and, head down against the driving rain and wind, they hurried to the railway station.
In the waiting room, a small fire burned in the hearth and they made for the nearest bench, hands in pockets as they huddled inside their coats. Fortunately they didn’t have long to wait for a train back to London, the carriage empty as they climbed inside. As they sat down, Derek put his arm around her and Pearl sank against him, the smell of his damp clothes assailing her nostrils.
‘Shame about the weather, but at least you’ve seen the sea now.’
‘Yes, and it was wonderful,’ Pearl said. She yawned, her eyes closed, and then she knew no more until they arrived at Clapham Junction.
‘Wake up, sleepy head, we’re home.’
Pearl opened her eyes, for a moment bewildered, and then realising that she had slept for the whole journey, she stumbled to her feet. ‘Oh, Derek, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be daft, love. I think working the tables on your own in the café must be wearing you out.’
Derek took her arm as she alighted from the carriage, but as her feet touched the platform, she swayed.
‘I don’t think this is just tiredness, Pearl. I think you’ve caught a chill or something. Come on, let’s get you home.’
She knew Derek was right, but as the only waitress in the café they’d be in a terrible fix without her. Maybe Mo would have a couple of aspirins or something, and if she went straight to bed, she’d be all right in the morning.
Pearl did feel better the next morning, and though she couldn’t face food, she felt strong enough to go to work.
The breakfast rush was almost over when a woman came into the café, Bernie greeting her. ‘Hello, Madge, long time no see. How are you?’
‘I’m fine, and I’ve come about the job.’
‘Blimey, are you sure?’
‘Yeah, I’ve had enough of working evenings and weekends.’
‘Right, you’d better have a word with Dolly.’
Bernie went to the kitchen, whilst Pearl surreptitiously studied the woman. She looked to be in her mid-to-late forties, her eyes small, but bright. With short, coarse brown hair and a thin face, she reminded Pearl somewhat of a fierce terrier dog.
Dolly came bustling out of the kitchen, a smile on her face. ‘Madge, nice to see you. Bernie tells me that you’re looking for a job.’
‘That’s right.’
‘After being a silver service waitress, it’ll be a bit of a comedown.’
‘All the functions are in the evening or at weekends. My boys are grown up now and I’d rather do day work.’
‘What about the money? I can’t pay you what you’re used to.’
‘With two of my lads at work, they’re stumping up their keep. I don’t mind taking a drop in wages.’
‘Well, if you’re sure, Madge, the job’s yours. It’ll be nice to have you working here.’
‘Smashing, and if you like I’ll start straight away.’
‘With only one waitress, it’d be a godsend.’ Dolly turned, beckoning Pearl to her side. ‘This is Madge Harding, my cousin.’
‘Hello,’ Pearl said shyly.
‘Nice to meet you, love. Perhaps you could show me the ropes?’
‘I’d be pleased to.’
‘Right, I’ll leave you to it,’ Dolly said brusquely. ‘I’ve still got Gertie and Mo working for me, and once the tables are cleared we’ll have a gossip over a cup of tea.’
As soon as Dolly was out of sight, Madge turned to Pearl again. ‘How do we split the tables?’
‘We split them in half, one section at this end, and the other nearest the kitchen.’
‘Well, as I’m the last in, I suppose I’ll be doing this end.’
‘Er … well, no, not if you don’t want to.’
‘Bless you, love, I don’t mind. In fact it’s only fair. Now, what else do I need to know?’
Pearl told Madge all she could think of, both women working happily together as they cleared the tables. Despite her fierce demeanour, Madge turned out to be a friendly soul, and when they took the stacks of crockery out to the kitchen, both Gertie and Mo greeted her with delight.
Dolly told Pearl to fetch them each a cup of tea, and when she returned it was to hear Madge saying, ‘That Pearl seems a nice girl, but where on earth did you find her? She talks like she’s got a plum in her mouth and certainly doesn’t come from these parts.’
‘As she’s right behind you, why don’t you ask her yourself?’ Gertie chuckled.
‘Gawd, sorry, ducks,’ Madge said, her face red as she turned. ‘Well, at least I wasn’t running you down. I’m a nosy old biddy and must admit I’m curious about where you hail from.’
‘I was brought up in an orphanage in Surrey.’
‘You poor kid. Don’t you know who your parents are?’
‘No. I was left on the steps.’
‘Christ, that’s awful. So you haven’t any family at all?’
‘None that I know of.’
‘Where do you live now?’
‘I have a room in Mo’s house.’
‘Yeah, and she’s fast becoming one of the family. Her and my Emma are now as thick as thieves.’
‘That’s nice,’ Madge said
. ‘What about you, Gertie? How are you doing these days?’
‘I ain’t too bad, but my stomach still plays me up now and again.’
Dolly spoke, her voice sharp. ‘You and Mo are both Mrs Neverwells. You’re never out of that doctor’s surgery and he must be sick of the sight of the pair of you.’
‘Now then, Dolly, don’t exaggerate,’ Gertie protested.
‘I ain’t, but enough gossip for now. You can get on with that washing-up, and you, Mo, get back to the vegetables.’
Madge winked at Pearl, the two of them going back to the dining room. ‘I see Dolly’s as bossy as ever. I know we’re related, but she still scares the shit out of me.’
‘And me,’ Bernie called, ‘but if you don’t want her to hear you, you’d best keep your voice down, Madge.’
The woman’s head shot round, eyeing the kitchen door with fear, whilst both Pearl and Bernie broke out into laughter.
‘Only kidding,’ Bernie spluttered.
‘Oh, you bugger,’ Madge said, but she soon joined in the laugher. ‘Well,’ she said, wiping eyes, which were wet with mirth, ‘at least it’s going to be all right working with you two.’
Pearl placed the tray of cups on the counter, deciding that she already liked Madge, and though she’d miss the extra money in her wage packet, she was glad that the woman had applied for the job.
Madge turned out to be a comic and often had Pearl helpless with laughter. As a local she knew many of the costermongers, giving them as good as she got in light-hearted fun.
Nearly two weeks had passed, and the only problem was Pearl’s continuing ill health. It was becoming a real concern.
When she got up on Friday morning she was once again feeling nauseous, and as she sat opposite Mo at the breakfast table, her food uneaten, the woman eyed her thoughtfully. She then dropped the bombshell.
‘Pearl, have you … well … have you been with Derek?’
‘Been with him? What do you mean?’
‘Er … have you slept with him?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Blimey, that’s a relief, and I’m sorry for being suspicious. I thought with you being sick in the mornings that you might be pregnant.’