Forgotten Child. Kitty Neale

Jennifer Lavender and I recently moved to Chelsea from Wimbledon.’

      ‘I’m looking for waitresses. Have you any experience?’

      ‘Er…no,’ she said. Thinking on her feet, she added, ‘But I’m a fast learner.’

      Once again a look of amusement crossed his face and for a moment Jenny began to hope. It was short-lived, as he said, ‘I want trained staff. However…’

      As he paused, Jenny blurted out, ‘I’ll do anything, any job.’

      ‘The only thing I can offer you is kitchen work, cleaning, washing up, that sort of thing.’

      Without a thought, Jenny said hurriedly, ‘I’ll take it.’

      ‘So without asking me about the hours, the pay, you’ll take it?’

      ‘Well…no…but…’

      ‘But you’re desperate,’ he interrupted. ‘Yes, I thought so, and I also doubt you’re sixteen. What are you, a runaway?’

      ‘Of course not.’

      ‘Do you live with your parents?’

      ‘Not now. I share a flat with my friend. She’s over there,’ Jenny said, nodding towards Tina.

      His eyes narrowed, scrutinising Tina, then he crooked a finger to beckon her over. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that you’re sixteen too?’

      ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

      ‘And, like your friend, you’ll take any job on offer?’

      ‘I don’t know about that. It depends what’s on offer and the pay.’

      ‘Have you any experience?’

      ‘Look, we both left school recently so the answer is no, and we never will have unless someone gives us a chance.’

      Jenny hid a smile. Unlike her, Tina didn’t seem nervous or browbeaten as she looked the man in the eye. He shrugged, then said, ‘As I told your friend, all I can offer is kitchen work. It’s eight-hour shifts, six days a week, and the weekly pay is eleven pounds.’

      ‘Eleven quid! Is that all?’

      ‘Take it or leave it.’

      ‘We’ll take it,’ Jenny said quickly.

      ‘Hold on, Jenny. That’s crap pay.’

      ‘Tina, it’s a job and we need the money.’

      ‘Yeah, yeah, all right, I won’t turn it down.’

      Jenny sighed with relief. ‘Thank you for giving us a chance, Mr…Mr…er…’

      ‘Mr Cane.’

      ‘Cane,’ Jenny said, surprised, ‘but I thought…’

      ‘My mother’s Italian,’ he said dismissively, as though used to this reaction to his looks. ‘You can both start your first shift on Monday morning, eight o’clock sharp when we will be serving breakfast and ending at four. Every four weeks your shift will change and you’ll be working from four until midnight.’

      Jenny was about to thank him again, but he was already looking at the next person in line, his voice strident as he called, ‘Next!’

      

      Tina waited until they were outside before she spoke, her tone scathing. ‘Eleven soddin’ quid a week and kitchen work! We must be mad. I know I’m not posh like you, but we could both do better than that.’

      ‘I think he offered us employment because he felt sorry for us. I know it isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.’

      ‘Sorry for us! Don’t make me laugh. I saw the way he was looking at you and it wasn’t with pity.’

      ‘What! Don’t be silly.’

      ‘Whatever you say, but there’s something not right about him. He was trying to sound posh, but unlike you, it was false. Still, come on, however shitty they are, we’ve got jobs and should celebrate,’ Tina said, trying to cast off her bad mood. ‘If you don’t mind stumping up again, we could go for a snack in Boris’s sandwich shop. Susan said that he’s had some famous customers, including Mick Jagger, John Lennon and Yoko. You never know, we might spot a famous face.’

      ‘Yes, all right,’ Jenny agreed.

      Since moving into their flat they had got to know Susan, who lived in the studio flat below them. Susan was older than them, in her mid-twenties and she had taken them under her wing. Her style was hippie: maxi dresses, or skirts with peasant blouses and strings of beads. Tall and slim, with long brown hair, Sue completed the look with flat sandals instead of high heels. It wasn’t a look that Tina felt she could pull off though, and as they passed a boutique she paused to look at a lovely mini-dress in the window.

      ‘Jenny, look at that.’

      ‘It’s lovely,’ Jenny agreed, her eyes flicking around as they walked on. ‘Look at everyone, Tina. They’re all dressed in a mixture of styles from hippie to rock and here’s me in clothes chosen by my mother. I feel gauche, out of place…I wish I could afford a new look.’

      ‘Yeah, me too,’ Tina agreed, her tummy rumbling as they reached Boris’s. She felt rotten that Jenny had to pay for everything – the rent, their food – but at least she’d be able to put her share in soon. Eleven quid a week, Tina thought again disgustedly, but knew she’d have to stick it out until she found something better.

      ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Jenny said. ‘After we’ve had something to eat, I wouldn’t mind looking in that shop at our end, the one called Paradise Garage.’

      ‘What for?’ Tina asked. ‘From what Susan said they sell American gear, second-hand denim jeans, along with Hawaiian shirts, some retro rock, and boiler suits or dungarees.’

      ‘If it’s second-hand it’ll be cheap.’

      Tina laughed. ‘Oh yeah, I can just see you in a boiler suit.’

      ‘Still, it might be worth a look.’

      ‘It’s weird enough on the outside, what with that 1950s petrol pump and the tiger-striped car, a Mustang, Sue said, sometimes parked close by. I’m game though. It might be fun to take a look inside.’

      They had a quick snack but saw no sign of any famous faces, so they then headed off for Paradise Garage. They had often passed the shop, which was painted from top to toe in what looked like green bamboo but was in fact corrugated iron.

      The Mustang wasn’t outside today, but the interior had their eyes widening in amazement. There were caged lovebirds, an American jukebox playing rock and roll, and even a tiny dance floor. However, a quick look at the clothes on offer was enough for Jenny to see that they just weren’t for either of them. She picked out a boiler suit, holding it against her, and they both giggled.

      ‘Very fetching,’ Tina told her.

      ‘You’ve got to admit it’s been worth a look, if only for the fun factor.’

      ‘Yeah, but come on, you daft moo, let’s go,’ Tina urged. She was still putting on a front, pretending that she didn’t have a care in the world, but in reality her stomach was churning. She really had seen the way that Mr Cane had looked at Jenny, a look she’d seen many times before in her father’s eyes. Tina shivered, regretting that they had taken the jobs and wished she’d made more of a protest. Her lip curled into a scowl. If the bloke made one move – said one thing out of place – she’d get Jenny out of there.

       Chapter Thirteen

      In Wimbledon, the telephone continued to ring. Unable to ignore