Kitty Neale - Nobody’s Girl

As she dashed around, Pearl knew why she had agreed to go to Derek’s house. She was curious – curious to see what a normal home looked like. All she had known was the orphanage and then the hostel, family life a mystery to her. She’d heard talk, of course. When girls came back to the orphanage after being fostered for a while, they spoke of the families they had stayed with and she had listened to their stories with avid interest. Of course, not all of the tales were good ones, and some were horrible. One girl of thirteen had been used as a servant, forced to do housework from early morning to night, and had slept in a small, cold room under the eaves of the house.

When she heard a knock on the street door, Pearl shook her thoughts away as she hurried downstairs. The orphanage held mostly bad memories, ones she wanted to forget.

‘Hello, love,’ Derek said. ‘I’ve told Gran I’m bringing you round and she’s looking forward to it.’

‘Is she?’ Pearl found she was suddenly nervous and as they walked along the High Street she clung to Derek’s arm. He looked down at her, smiling with pleasure and she managed a small smile back. Oh, he was a nice man. Would his gran be the same?

It didn’t take them long to reach Derek’s house. As they walked in Connie Lewis stepped forward.

‘Hello, ducks, nice to meet you,’ she said, leading them into a small room at the front.

‘It’s nice to meet you too,’ Pearl said, smiling shyly. Derek’s gran was a surprise. She was a tiny, thin woman with sharp features, but like Derek, her eyes were kind.

‘Take a seat, love,’ she invited.

‘Thank you,’ Pearl said, doing so.

‘Derek tells me you’re an orphan.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘How old were you when you were put in the orphanage?’

‘From what I’ve been told, I was a new-born baby and left on the steps.’

‘Oh, that’s awful. Your mother must have been desperate to do that.’

Pearl looked down at the threadbare rug under her feet. Yes, her mother must have been desperate, perhaps unmarried, but Pearl would never know the answers. Over the years she had thought about her. Did they look alike? She had read a novel once in which a servant had been taken by the master and then thrown on to the streets. Was that what had happened to her mother? Scenario after scenario filled her mind. Had her mother been ill – too ill to look after her – and, as she had never come back to claim her, had she died?

‘I’m sorry, love. Me and my big mouth, and now I’ve upset you,’ Connie cried.

‘No, please, I’m all right.’

‘I’ll go and make us all a cup of tea,’ she said, bustling from the room.

‘Sorry about that, Pearl. My gran does have a tendency to put her foot in it, but she doesn’t mean any harm.’

‘It’s all right. There’s no need to apologise.’

Pearl gazed around the room with interest. There was a three-piece suite, and she was sitting on one of the rather lumpy chairs. Under the window she saw a highly polished sideboard, with a lace runner across the top on which sat a few china ornaments. The fireplace was small, and covering the grate there was a little painted paper screen in the shape of a fan. There was a carved fender, and in one alcove a small table on which sat a rather ugly plant. Even with so little furniture the room was crowded, and there was the faint scent of lavender in the air. Pearl found it cosy and wondered what the rest of the house was like.

‘Here we are,’ Connie said as she came back into the room.

Derek took the rather laden tray from her, admonishing, ‘You should have called me, Gran. This weighs a ton.’

Pearl saw pretty china cups and saucers, a teapot, and a plate piled with slices of cherry cake. Connie moved the plant from the small table, and as Derek laid the tray down she bustled out again, calling, ‘I’ll just get the milk and sugar.’

Derek grinned. ‘To tell you the truth, Pearl, we hardly use this room. We live and eat in the kitchen.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t have minded the kitchen.’

‘Well, tell Gran that.’

‘Tell me what?’ Connie asked as she came back into the room.

‘That Pearl would’ve been happy to sit in the kitchen.’

‘Blimey, and there’s me trying to make an impression. Well, we’re in here now, and here we’ll stay. Do you take milk and sugar, love?’

‘Yes, please.’

Connie handed her a cup of tea, followed by a plate with a slice of cake on it. Pearl floundered; with both hands full she couldn’t drink her tea or eat the cake. Maybe she could balance one on her lap?

Connie followed the same procedure with Derek, but instead of consternation, he roared with laughter. ‘I’ve only got two hands, Gran. Am I supposed to eat the cake with me toes?’

Connie laughed too, her eyes bright as she looked at Pearl. ‘As you can see, we ain’t used to airs and graces. All right, I give in, let’s go to the kitchen and at least we can sit around the table.’

‘Thank Gawd for that,’ Derek said.

Pearl stood up and followed Connie through to the kitchen, Derek behind them with the tray. The room was larger with a well-scrubbed table in the centre.

‘Sit down, love,’ the old lady said.

From then on it was more relaxed, the ice broken, and soon Connie was asking Pearl questions again, this time about her job in the café, and Dolly Dolby.

‘I hear the woman’s a bit of a battle-axe. Is that right?’

‘She isn’t too bad. Well, unless she’s in a bad mood.’

‘And that’s every other day,’ Derek said with a chuckle.

‘Derek tells me you live in a bedsit.’

‘Yes, I’m renting it from Nobby Clark.’

‘Is he that tyke you used to knock around with, Derek?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

‘Huh, he’s nothing but trouble. When he was left the shop he could have done all right, but from what I heard he got hooked on gambling. It’s a mug’s game and the shop went under, all the profits going to the bookies. All right, he was only nineteen at the time, but that’s no excuse. You were running the stall on your own, and you’ve done well. What’s Nobby up to these days?’

‘Nothing honest, that’s for sure.’

Pearl thought about the cartons of cigarettes she had seen, wondering if she should mention them, but then Derek stood up.

‘I’m just going out back for a Jimmy Riddle.’

‘A what?’

‘You explain, Gran.’

‘Jimmy Riddle – piddle, its cockney rhyming slang. He’s gone to the outside toilet,’ Connie said, and as the door closed behind him she leaned forward, her eyes now hardening. ‘How old are you, Pearl?

‘I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen.’

‘Christ, you’re just a kid. Look, I know you’ve become friends with my Derek, but I don’t want him hurt. He likes you, I can tell, but you’re a bit young for him.’

‘We … we’re not courting. We’re just friends.’

‘That’s as maybe, but I still think he’s looking for more than that. I don’t want to cross-examine you, but I can’t see why you’ve latched on to Derek. Surely you’d prefer friends, girls of your own age?’

‘I don’t know any girls, and those that come into the café seem to be a bit stand-offish.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s probably because you talk like you’ve got a plum in your mouth. You stand out as different, an outsider, and they’re bound to be suspicious.’ Connie leaned back and sighed heavily. ‘All right, I’ll say no more, but if you don’t want things to go any further with Derek, it might be better if you stop seeing him.’

‘Gran!’

Connie’s head shot round. ‘Derek, I didn’t know you were there.’

‘That’s pretty obvious. Now what’s going on? I only heard the tail end of what you were saying, but why are you telling Pearl to stop seeing me?’