Kitty Neale - Nobody’s Girl

‘You can’t, mate. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Anyway, I don’t know what you’re worried about. She can only say no, and there’s plenty more fish in the sea.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Derek murmured as Kevin walked away. It was all right for him – he was a good-looking bloke and obviously had no trouble finding women. Derek thought back to the one time he’d asked a girl out, and she’d made her distaste plain. Would Pearl be the same? Would she tell him to bugger off too?

A customer came to the stall and, pushing his worries to one side, Derek went to serve her, pleased when she purchased a tea set.

Pearl was relieved when her shift finished and was just preparing to leave when Dolly came out of the kitchen. As she walked the length of the café, her eyes inspected each and every table, but thankfully they were all clean and tidy.

Pearl’s ears pricked up when Alice said, ‘Mrs Dolby, can I have a word about our tips?’

‘What about them?’

‘It’s a bit frantic in here, both for the breakfast and lunch servings, and I’ve noticed that Pearl ain’t quite got the hang of it yet. To help out I’ve cleared a few of her tables, but some customers leave tips and in the rush I might have put hers in with mine by mistake. I wonder if it might be better if we have a jar on the counter to pool them in, sharing the money out at the end of the week.’

‘Surely mixing Pearl’s tips with your own won’t happen very often?’

‘That’s just it. I don’t know. As I said, there’ll be time when I’ll have to clear Pearl’s tables, and it’s easy to get in a muddle.’

‘What do you think about this, Pearl?’

‘I … I’m not sure. Maybe it would be better to keep them separate.’

‘You should think yourself lucky that Alice has helped you out, and by clearing your tables she takes on extra work. If you ask me she should keep any tips she finds.’

‘Oh, no, Mrs Dolby,’ Alice protested. ‘That wouldn’t be right. I’d rather we share them.’

‘Very well then, until Pearl gets up to speed you can put a jar on the counter. If and when she improves, we’ll discuss it again.’

Pearl wanted to protest, to tell Mrs Dolby that she didn’t need Alice’s help. With only half the tables to do now she could easily manage, but seeing impatience on her employer’s face, she was held back by fear.

Both she and Alice took their handbags out from under the counter, saying goodbye as the left together, but when the door closed behind them, Alice turned to Pearl, her smile ingratiating. ‘I hope you don’t mind my suggestion, love. After all, we don’t want to get our tips mixed up, do we? See you tomorrow.’ With this she walked off in the opposite direction to Pearl.

For a moment Pearl watched her, unhappy but helpless. Alice had made her look bad in front of Mrs Dolby, and she should have had the courage to speak up for herself. Yet both women were dominant, assertive and she just didn’t have the nerve. Kevin was walking towards her, heading for the café, and once again her heart skipped. It wasn’t often that he spoke to her, but just a rare smile in her direction was enough to bring the colour flooding to her cheeks. Would he speak to her now?

‘Watcha, Pearl.’

‘Er … hello,’ she stuttered, but he walked straight into the café without breaking his stride. Disconsolately she started to stroll along the market, berating herself for being silly. Kevin Dolby would never look at her twice. He had the pick of the girls and she could never compete.

Derek was looking out for Pearl and at three forty-five he saw her meandering down the market. Fingers crossed, he went to the front of his stall, smiling when she drew near.

‘Hello, love. Off home, are you?’

‘Yes, I’ve finished my shift.’

‘Er … Pearl. I … I was wondering if you fancy going to the pictures one night?’

Her huge eyes rose to meet his and he gulped. Christ, she was such a lovely little thing. She looked so innocent, so frail, and he held his breath for her answer.

‘The pictures? Well, yes, I suppose so.’

‘That’s great. How about tonight?’

‘Yes, all right. Can we go to the Granada? There’s a Marlene Dietrich film on that I’d love to see.’

‘Fine with me. How about I pick you up at seven?’

‘Yes, do that.’ And smiling shyly, Pearl walked away.

Bloody hell, he’d done it! With a little skip, Derek was grinning as he returned to the back of his stall, and was busy for the rest of the afternoon.

As Derek walked in the door that evening, Connie Lewis assessed him shrewdly. ‘What are you looking so happy about?’

‘I’ve got a date, Gran.’

‘Have you now? And who with? I hope she’s a nice girl and not one of these painted tarts you see nowadays. Does she live around here?’

‘Now then, Gran, I’m twenty-six, not sixteen, and don’t need an inquisition. But yes, she’s a nice girl and I think you’d like her. Now, I’m off upstairs to have a bath.’

Connie frowned as her grandson left the room. Derek wasn’t one for the girls so she was surprised to hear he had a date. She was under no illusions. Derek couldn’t be described as handsome. He’d been a plain little boy when he’d come to live with her, and was plain now, but of course boxing hadn’t helped.

Yet he was a lovely lad, kind and caring, in fact, sometimes too caring. She smiled, remembering all the lost and wounded animals he’d brought home over the years, from wild birds to cats. In fact they still had one of the cats now, a fat and lazy creature that spent all day asleep on a chair.

As if knowing she was thinking about him, Marmalade opened one eye, yawned and stretched, rousing himself enough to settle in another position before closing his eye again. Connie smiled. Yes, Marmalade was a good name for the ginger cat, and she was quite fond of the old thing really.

She rose to her feet, walking across the kitchen to feed cabbage into the pan of boiling water on the stove. Unbidden, Connie found herself thinking about her daughter, an expression of sadness crossing her face. Mary had got herself pregnant and had never revealed the name of Derek’s father, but she didn’t deserve to die that way – trapped under the rubble of a pub when it had been bombed during the war.

‘What’s for dinner, Gran?’ Derek asked as he returned downstairs, towelling his hair dry.

‘Stewed steak.’

‘Smashing.’

‘Where are you taking this girl tonight?’

‘We’re going to the flicks.’

‘Well, just make sure you behave yourself!’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh, sorry, love. Take no notice of me. I know you’ll be a perfect gentleman.’

‘What’s up, Gran? You not only sound snappy, you look a bit down too.’

‘I was just thinking about your mother. It’s her birthday tomorrow.’

‘We’ll take some flowers up to the cemetery as usual.’

‘She seems to fill my mind more than ever around this time. I don’t know why. It’s almost as though she draws close to me on her birthday. I know she wasn’t much of a mother to you, but I’ll never forgive myself for the way I treated her.’

‘Gran, it was a long time ago and about time you forgave yourself. And, well, to be honest, I can hardly remember her now.’

Connie checked the vegetables and, seeing they were ready, she drained them before dishing up their dinner. As she placed the plates on the table and sat opposite Derek, her eyes flicked to an old black-and-white photograph of her daughter on the mantelpiece. Mary had been such a pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes, and Connie couldn’t help the comparison. Derek bore no resemblance to his mother at all. In fact he didn’t look like anyone in the family. He was big, lumbering, with wide shoulders and a large head. There was something Slavic-looking about his features – Polish, maybe? She heaved a sigh, knowing full well that Derek’s origins were something they would never know. And now as she began to eat, she was just praying that this girl he was taking out wouldn’t hurt him.