Nobody’s Girl

‘Yeah, and he certainly ain’t a chip off the old block. He looks nothing like Dolly or Bernard.’

‘If I wasn’t a married woman, I might be tempted.’

‘Leave it out. Your old man would skin you alive.’

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Glancing out of the window, she added, ‘Sod it, we’d best be off. My baby’s waking up.’

As they hurried out, Pearl only had one table left to check and it was where the two elderly ladies sat. Smiling shyly at them, she picked up the salt pot, carefully removing the lid.

‘How are you getting on, dearie?’ one asked.

‘Fine,’ Pearl told her.

‘Just keep your head down and you’ll be all right. What’s your name?’

‘Pearl Button.’

‘Blimey,’ she said, unable to keep a straight face and echoing Dolly Dolby as she added, ‘Your parents must have a sense of humour.’

Pearl just nodded, and as she made to move away Kevin Dolby reappeared, taking a seat in the dining room. The old lady put a hand on her arm, whispering urgently, ‘Dolly Dolby can be a dragon, but she’s as soft as shit when it comes to her son. If you want to stay in her good books, take my advice and stay away from Kevin.’

Puzzled, Pearl now went to the counter, but she had hardly reached it when the kitchen bell rang. When she hurried to answer it, Dolly said, ‘Give that breakfast to my son.’

Pearl picked up the huge fry-up and carried it through to the dining room, her mouth salivating. It was nearly eleven, and with no breakfast that morning her stomach growled with hunger.

Nervously she placed the plate in front of Dolly’s son, relieved when, after giving her a cursory glance from hazel eyes, he went back to reading his newspaper, only murmuring, ‘Get me a couple of slices of bread.’

She went to the counter to find Bernard chalking a list of lunchtime meals onto a blackboard. There was steak-and-kidney pie, sausages and mash, pork chops, or liver and bacon. Apple or Bakewell tarts were added for pudding, along with custard. Once again Pearl’s mouth salivated, her stomach growling as she buttered the bread.

With more important things on his mind, Kevin hardly noticed the new waitress. He finished his breakfast, stood up and, leaving his empty plate on the table, went back to the kitchen.

‘Mum, can I have a word?’

‘What is it, love?’

‘Most of me mates have got cars, but I’m still riding a scooter.’

‘Blimey, Kevin, that Lambretta was a lot of money and you’ve only had it for a year.’

‘Yeah, I know, but I’ve been offered a lovely Vauxhall Wyvern for two hundred quid.’

‘Two hun—’

‘Listen, Mum,’ Kevin interrupted, ‘a new one would be five hundred and fifty, not forgetting the purchase tax. This one’s only a couple of years old and it’s a bargain.’

‘It’s still a lot of money, son.’

Please, Mum,’ Kevin wheedled. ‘All me mates have got cars now. Scooters are for kids.’

‘Kevin, I threw a big party for your twenty-first birthday and it cost me a pretty penny. Now you want money for a car. It doesn’t grow on trees, love.’

Kevin pouted, his expression for a moment that of a small boy. ‘Pleeease, Mum.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

He smiled secretly, knowing that with a bit more persuasion he’d get his own way. He could pull the asthmatic trick again, say it was due to the dust he breathed in when riding his scooter. That would give her a fright and with any luck she’d give in.

‘We could do with a hand at lunchtime.’

The smile left Kevin’s face. ‘I’ve got things to do, Mum. Can’t you manage without me?’

‘We’re a bit pushed. Rita walked out and the new girl’s inexperienced. I doubt she’ll cope with the lunchtime rush.’

Kevin knew what buttons to push. ‘From what I saw she’s doing all right, and I must say she ain’t bad-looking.’

‘She’s just a kid and far too young for you,’ Dolly snapped.

Pearl came in carrying Kevin’s empty plate, and as she placed it on the table he moved to her side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. ‘Hello, we haven’t been introduced.’

The girl flushed, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes, her words sounding breathless as she said, ‘Er … hello.’

‘Kevin, we can manage without you,’ Dolly said hurriedly.

He smiled inwardly. ‘Thanks, Mum. I’ll see you around tea time.’

‘Don’t stand there gawking, Pearl. Get back to your work!’

‘Yes. Sorry, Mrs Dolby.’

Dolly’s face softened almost imperceptibly as the girl ran back to the dining room. At last, a youngster who showed a bit of respect. Mind you, she’d have to keep an eye on her when Kevin was around. Pearl was just a bit of a kid, and as she was an orphan there was no knowing what sort of background she came from. There might be bad blood in her family and she was therefore totally unsuitable for her son.

‘Mo,’ Dolly shouted, ‘have you finished the spuds?’

‘Not yet, but I won’t be much longer.’

‘We’re all behind ’cos of your bleedin’ trip to the doctor’s. When you’ve finished, get on with the onions. There’s liver and bacon on the menu today so make sure you do enough.’

‘Yeah, all right, Dolly.’

It was quiet for a while as the women worked, Dolly placing the pork chops in the oven before laying out the pies ready for warming. Next she part-fried the liver, ready to be finished off with bacon when she got an order. There were only the sausages to get on now. So after vigorously forking them, Dolly placed them on a tray to cook later.

She glanced up at the clock. ‘Gertie, you’d better have your break, and you, Mo, get the spuds on.’

Mo placed the large pans on her cooker, added a generous amount of salt and lit the gas. ‘There, done, and once I’ve finished the onions I’ll get on with the cabbage and carrots.’

The Bakewell and apple pies had been delivered yesterday, and the custard already mixed, so after giving Gertie a bacon sandwich, the woman’s usual fare, Dolly took this opportunity to have a break too.

In the dining room there were only a few customers, but Dolly knew it was the calm before the storm. At lunchtime the place would be heaving and she hoped the new girl would cope. After a quick look at the tables, she sat down near the counter, her eyes now on Pearl.

Bernie was showing her how to make the tea, water pouring into the pot from the hot-water urn, a cloud of steam momentarily obscuring Pearl’s face. As it cleared, Dolly saw that the girl’s cheeks were pink from the heat, and she frowned, noticing for the first time how pretty she was. She hadn’t seen it when interviewing her, and wondered why.

As though suddenly aware that she was being observed, Pearl quickly lowered her head. That’s it, Dolly thought. It was her mouse-like demeanour, the way she kept her eyes down and her shoulders hunched.

‘As that tea is freshly made, you can pour me a cup and take a couple through to the kitchen for Mo and Gertie,’ she said, thankful that at least the girl wasn’t plastered with make-up. Kevin usually went for the obvious types, and had made a play for several of her previous waitresses. Of course, as soon as this happened she got rid of them, vowing never to employ a girl with looks again.

Had she made a mistake with Pearl? Yet as the girl came from behind the counter and carefully placed a cup of tea on the table, she doubted it. Once again she looked like a mouse, with a slim figure that was almost boyish. No, she definitely wasn’t Kevin’s type.

Chapter Three

As the first lunchtime customers entered the café, Pearl took a deep breath in an effort to steady her nerves. She waited until they had sat down before approaching their table, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Her pad was poised.

‘What can I get you?’

‘Hello, who’s this?’ the costermonger asked his companion.

‘I dunno. Rita served me for breakfast. Has she left, darlin’?’

‘Yes, this morning. Now, what can I get you?’ Pearl asked again.

‘Blimey, she talks well, Charlie.’

‘Yeah, I’ll grant you that.’

The door opened again, four men walking to a nearby table and, seeing them, Pearl’s hands shook. She hadn’t taken this order yet, but already had to take another. ‘Please, what would you like?’

‘You on toast will do. Mind you, with the amount of meat on you I wouldn’t get much of a mouthful.’

Pearl reddened, relieved when the one called Charlie placed his order. ‘I’ll ’ave the steak-and-kidney pie, love.’

‘Yeah, I’ll ’ave the same.’

She scribbled it down, dashing to the kitchen, but as she laid the order on the table, Dolly spoke sharply. ‘What do you call this?’

‘It … it’s an order.’

‘There’s no table number on this slip, and this copy goes to the customer. If they’re paying separately they have a slip each. I have the bottom copy.’

‘I … I’m sorry. I’ll write it out again, but I don’t know if they’re paying separately.’

‘Make sure you ask next time.’

‘Yes, sorry.’ Then hurriedly leaving the kitchen, Pearl approached the table again, her head bowed.

‘I’m sorry, I forgot to ask if you’re paying separately for your meals.’

‘Yeah, but don’t worry, love. We’ll split the bill between us.’

‘Oh, thank you.’

‘Here, miss, are we getting served today?’

‘Yes, sorry,’ Pearl said as she went over to the other table, her head once again low and feeling that she had said nothing but ‘sorry’ since she started. She flushed as one of the men at the table began to sing.

‘“Pussycat, Pussycat, what did you there? I frightened a little mouse under her chair.”’

Bernard Dolby wandered over. ‘Give Pearl a chance, Frank. It’s her first day and she hasn’t done the job before.’

The man slowly scrutinised her and she held her breath, thankful when he finally said, ‘Liver and bacon for me.’

The other three men gave their orders and this time, asking if they were paying separately, she had to make out four slips. As she tore them off and handed them out, it seemed a daft idea to her. Why write separate orders for each customer? Surely there was a more efficient way? However, as the café began to fill she dismissed it from her mind, and after dashing to the kitchen with the orders she almost ran to the next table.

Having finished their meal, the four men on table five stood up. As they walked towards the counter, one beckoned to Pearl, saying, ‘Do you want a tip, love?’

She didn’t know what to say. Yes, she needed tips, but hadn’t expected to be asked.

‘Here’s a good tip for you. Have a bet on Imperial Lad running in the three thirty at Newmarket.’

All the men burst into laughter. ‘Gawd, that’s a good one, Frank.’

Humiliated but determined to hide it, Pearl went to clear their table. It was only as she picked up the last plate that she saw the threepenny bit underneath. Pearl looked up quickly, just in time to see Frank giving her a wink as he went out of the door. Oh, he was nice really, and somehow she would have to get used to these rough men’s humour.

It was chaos by one thirty and Pearl could hardly keep up, her brow beaded with perspiration as she carried yet more plates out of the kitchen. She glanced at the clock, praying the lunchtime rush was almost over. Her lips were parched, throat dry, and she felt weak with hunger, legs wobbling beneath her.

Bernie was standing at table one, talking to a huge, fair-haired, craggy-faced man who looked like he’d been in a fight. She shuddered, hating violence, but when she finished giving the customers on table seven their order, Bernie beckoned her over.

‘Pearl, this is Derek Lewis. He’s an amateur boxer and a good one. Take his order next, will you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Blimey, girl, there’s no need to call me sir. Bernie will do.’

‘Is there any steak-and-kidney pie left?’ Derek asked.

‘No, I’m afraid not, but the liver and bacon is very tasty.’

Pearl saw that Bernie was looking at her with approval, and when Derek agreed to have the liver, Bernie positively beamed.

‘Well done, love,’ he whispered as she hurried past, slip in hand and heading for the kitchen.

When she had cleared three more tables and taken another order, the bell rang in the kitchen. Pearl went to get the order, which was the liver and bacon for table one.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ said Derek Lewis, when she brought it over. ‘Bernie tipped me the wink and I’ll have a word with the other costermongers. They’ll leave you alone in future.’

‘Oh, no, don’t do that. I don’t want them to think I’ve been complaining.’ Pearl’s eyes were wide with appeal, but then she suddenly swayed. The room dimmed, voices came as though from a distance, her knees buckled, and she knew no more.

When Pearl opened her eyes, she saw unusually pale blue ones looking back at her and it took her a moment to realise she was in Derek Lewis’s arms.

She struggled, but became still when he said softly, ‘It’s all right, pet. I’m just taking you through to the kitchen.’

‘Wh … what happened?’

‘You fainted.’

Pearl was placed on a chair and, dizzy again, she leaned forward.

‘What’s going on?’ Dolly asked sharply.

‘She passed out, Mrs D. Your old man told me to bring her in here.’

‘Yeah, well, you can go now.’

When Derek left the kitchen, Gertie hurried over. She gave Pearl a glass of water, and then asked, ‘’Ave you been sick in the mornings, love?’

‘Sick … no.’

‘So you ain’t up the duff then?’

‘Up the duff?’ Pearl parroted, her head still swimming.

‘She’s asking if you’re in the family way,’ Dolly snapped.

‘No, of course I’m not.’

‘Why did you faint? Are you ill?’

‘Oh, no. It’s just that I didn’t have any breakfast this morning and—’

Bernie stuck his head around the door. ‘How is she?’

‘She’s just hungry. Can you manage without her for a while?’

‘No, not really. There’s customers waiting to be served.’

‘I can give him a hand for a little while,’ Gertie offered.

Dolly exhaled loudly. ‘All right, go on then, but just while I give this daft cow something to eat, and then she can get back to work.’

Gertie scampered out, and as Dolly shoved a pork chop onto a plate, Pearl sat watching, mouth salivating. Her head was clearer now, but her stomach rumbled.

A dollop of mash was added, then some vegetables and thick gravy, Dolly’s voice gruff as she plonked it in front of her. ‘Right, get that down you.’

‘Thank you,’ Pearl said, and though she tried not to scoff, in a very short time the food disappeared.

‘I don’t think going without breakfast is reason enough to faint. When was the last time you had anything to eat?’

‘I … I had some soup yesterday lunchtime.’

‘Christ, will you speak up, girl?’

‘I said I had some soup yesterday.’

‘Is that all? No wonder you passed out. Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry?’

‘I didn’t like to, and as I started after ten, I didn’t think I was entitled to a break.’

‘For goodness’ sake! We aren’t bad employers and you only had to say.’

‘There’s something else, Mrs Dolby …’

Pearl paused and Dolly snapped, ‘Well, spit it out.’

‘I don’t think I’ve got enough tips to pay for this meal.’

‘Pay for it? You don’t have to pay for it! Lunch is a perk of the job.’

Pearl’s eyes lit up and, having, gulped down the glass of water, she rose to her feet. A free lunch every day would make all the difference. She would be able to manage on the wages and wouldn’t have to look for an evening job after all. Things were looking up.

‘Thank you for the meal. It was wonderful, but I’d best get back to work.’

‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right now?’

‘Oh, yes, I’m fine,’ Pearl said, still smiling as she hurried out of the kitchen. She’d been warned about Mrs Dolby, but the woman wasn’t so bad. The job was hard, but she was sure it would become easier once she got the hang of it, and if they found another waitress it could be a doddle. She would be finished at three thirty, leaving her lots of time to study, her goal now becoming a little closer.

‘Are you all right now?’

Yes, I’m fine thanks, Gertie.’

‘Right, I’ll get back to the kitchen. There’s only one more customer waiting to be served on table eight, and a few more to clear.’

‘Thanks,’ Pearl said again.

She glanced around the café, but there was no sign of Derek Lewis. Determined to thank him for his help on her way home, she later asked Bernie where she could find him.

‘He’s a costermonger selling china about halfway down the market.’

‘Why are they called costermongers?’ Pearl asked.

‘It’s an ancient name for men selling stuff from barrows or stalls, especially fruit and vegetables. I know it isn’t used much nowadays, but I like to keep up the old traditions. Most of the men working in the market have had their pitches handed down from father to son, and though they may sound a bit rough at times, they’re a good crowd.’

Pearl listened with interest, and then glanced at the clock. It was after two thirty. All the unoccupied tables were cleared, and apart from one or two late customers, the café was nearly empty. Pearl’s feet were throbbing, but at least her tummy was full, and despite the constant ribbing from some of the male customers, she’d enjoyed her first day.

Bernie gave her a tray of tea to take to the kitchen, saying he would pour one for her when she returned.

‘I don’t want any more fainting fits, girl,’ Dolly said. ‘See that you eat something before you start work in the morning.’

Pearl agreed, about to leave the kitchen when her employer spoke again. ‘You did well for your first day. Keep it up.’

Pearl smiled, unused to praise, and was still smiling as she returned to the dining room.

‘Blimey, Dolly, what’s come over you?’ Gertie asked.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘If I’m not mistaken, you actually praised the new waitress.’

‘Yeah, well, this one’s a bit different. She shows me some respect, which is more than I could say for Rita.’

‘Things ’ave certainly changed since the war,’ Mo said as she came over to take a cup from the tray. ‘Kids ain’t got any respect nowadays. My Emma came down this morning dressed in something she called Capri pants. They looked daft, if you ask me, and I told her they were too short, but she just laughed. She said it’s the Brigitte Bardot look. I ask you, who’s Brigitte Bardot? She’s got herself a bleedin’ record player too, a Dansette, and it cost twelve quid. Now all I hear day and night is flaming rock-and-roll music.’

‘Twelve quid! Where did she get that sort of money?’

‘She got it off the club, and I just hope she keeps up the payments. Gawd, I wish her father was still alive. He’d ’ave sorted her out.’

‘Yeah,’ Gertie agreed. ‘And as for that Brigitte Bardot, she’s a French actress, and from what I’ve heard she’s a right sexy piece.’

‘It’s disgusting, that’s what it is,’ Dolly said. ‘The way young girls flaunt themselves nowadays they’re just asking for trouble. Still, as I said, Pearl seems different, and she doesn’t wear make-up plastered all over her face.’

‘She seems a nice enough kid,’ Gertie agreed.

‘Right,’ Dolly said, putting her cup back on the tray, ‘let’s get finished up. I don’t know about you two, but I’m fair worn out.’

The back door opened and Kevin appeared, his look furtive as he clutched a bag behind his back.

‘Hello, love. What have you been up to today?’

‘Not now, Mum,’ he said, hurrying through the kitchen without stopping.

Dolly frowned, wondering what was wrong with the boy. She went back to her tasks, rushing to get them finished so she could go upstairs to their flat. Kevin looked upset, and she wanted to know why.

As she walked along the market, Pearl’s eyes were peeled for Derek Lewis. When he saw her approaching him he quickly finished a sale, moving to the front of his stall.

‘Are you feeling better now?’

‘I’m fine and wanted to thank you for helping me.’

‘Leave it out. It’s the first time I’ve had a girl swooning at me feet and it won’t do me reputation any harm.’

‘Here, Derek, got yourself a bit of stuff, ’ave you?’ a voice called from the next stall. ‘Hang on, ain’t that the little mouse from the café? Well, at least you’ll only ’ave to leave her out a bit of cheese.’

Derek laughed, shouting back to the stallholder, ‘Shut up, Frank! You’re just jealous.’

‘Not me, mate. I like a bit of meat to get hold of, and you’ve seen the size of my wife.’

‘Yeah, nobody could miss Lucy when she’s in full sail.’

‘You cheeky bugger,’ Frank Hanwell called, but then had to serve a customer. ‘What’s that, missus? Of course me lettuce is fresh. Hand-picked from Covent Garden this morning.’

Derek chuckled and then turned his attention back to Pearl. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather when you passed out. What brought it on?’

‘Oh, nothing really. It’s just that I hadn’t eaten.’

She saw Derek frown, his soft voice at odds with his build as he said, ‘Are you all right for money, love?’

‘Yes, I’m fine, but I must go now. Thank you again for your help.’

As Pearl walked away she kept her head low, but as she passed Frank’s stall he started to sing again. ‘“Pussycat, Pussycat, where have you been? I’ve been up to London to visit the Queen. Pussycat, Pussycat, what did you there? I frightened a little mouse under her chair.”’

She picked up her pace, and with the raucous voices of the other traders calling their wares, she didn’t see or hear Derek Lewis approaching Frank Hanwell, his fists clenched threateningly.

When Pearl walked into her bedsit she sighed with appreciation. The room was small, with just a built-in cupboard and chest of drawers, but to her it was heaven, a place of her own.

In one corner there was a curtained-off area, behind which was a sink and a single gas ring. In a tiny cupboard there were a few pieces of crockery, a small saucepan and a frying pan.

After kicking off her shoes, Pearl went to the tiny kitchen, placing the kettle on the gas ring. She wasn’t hungry after that wonderful meal in the café and was counting her blessings, especially as she was down to her last tin of soup.

Who’d have thought she’d get a job with a meal thrown in? She turned on the gas tap, frowning when she realised she’d have to feed the meter. Her precious few tips were just enough to cover the shilling needed, so feeding the coin into the slot, she hoped there would be more tips forthcoming in the morning.

There were used tea leaves in her small strainer and, carefully pouring boiling water over them, she frowned at the weak brew. Still, things were looking up and soon she’d be able to get a bit of shopping. Not only that, now that she was earning again her dream of taking art classes felt a little bit closer.

After drinking the tea, Pearl had a strip wash, carefully hung up her one and only decent dress, then threw on an old pair of pyjamas. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she picked up her sketch pad and pencil.

Everything had looked dire that morning, and she had been in despair when she’d seen the advert for a waitress. Her elfin face lit up with a smile and she began to draw a face from memory. Dolly Dolby slowly emerged on the page, but when the sketch was finished Pearl flung it aside, wishing she could afford paint and brushes.

Painting was all Pearl lived for, and never a day went by when she didn’t try to create something. With no money for paint she would sketch, burying herself in the task of perfecting whatever she was drawing. In the orphanage it had been her refuge, a way of blanking out all that went on around her.

She was constantly picked on by the other children, all laughing at her because she was never chosen for fostering or adoption. From the day she had been found on the steps until the day she left, the only home Pearl had known was the grey and forbidding orphanage, her bed one among twenty that lined the dormitory. She had plucked up courage once to ask why she couldn’t be put forward for a foster home, only to be told by grim-faced Miss Unsworth that she wasn’t suitable. When she dared to ask why, she had received a slap, Miss Unsworth telling her that she should count herself lucky that she had a home in the orphanage.