Nobody’s Girl. Kitty Neale

well enough yet. This was a tight-knit community and she knew she had a long way to go before she was accepted. Until then, it might be more prudent to keep her mouth shut.

      Pearl was taking her break, tucking into her meal, when Kevin came down from the upstairs flat.

      His eyes flicked around the dining room, but then he walked towards her table. Pearl’s stomach fluttered and she quickly lowered her head.

      ‘Hello. Pearl, isn’t it? How are you getting on?’

      ‘F … fine, thanks,’ she said, amazed and gratified that he had spoken to her.

      Her eyes rose, and as they fastened momentarily on his, she flushed. God, he was gorgeous, yet why did he look so anxious?

      ‘Do you live around here?’

      ‘Er … yes, I live over the empty shop further along the High Street.’

      ‘All right, is it?’

      ‘Yes, it’s fine.’

      ‘Who’s your landlord?’

      ‘Mr Clark. Nobby Clark. Do you know him?’

      He smiled, perfectly even, white teeth flashing. ‘No, not really. See you,’ he said abruptly, walking away.

      Pearl was thrilled that Kevin had spoken to her, but puzzled by the strange conversation.

      Gertie then dashed out of the kitchen, looking harassed. ‘One of the ovens isn’t working and Dolly’s doing her nut,’ she told Bernie.

      ‘All right, I’m coming,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on things out here, Pearl.’

      She rose to her feet, unable now to think about Kevin’s strange behaviour as three young women came in, asking for teas.

      Kevin was still smiling as he strolled along the High Street. Christ, he’d been shit scared that the new waitress had clocked him on Saturday night, but a short conversation had allayed his fears. When Pearl had asked if he knew Nobby Clark, it was obvious that she hadn’t seen him in the shop. If she had, she wouldn’t have asked the question.

      ‘Watcha, Kevin. With that smile on your face you must’ve got your leg over last night.’

      ‘Morning, Frank, and yes, I did,’ he lied.

      ‘You jammy young git. My old woman had a headache as usual.’

      ‘So much for marriage,’ Kevin quipped back.

      ‘It’s got its compensations, and she ain’t always under the weather.’

      Kevin pictured Frank’s wife and shuddered. Like his mother, she looked a right battle-axe and he wouldn’t fancy waking up alongside her every morning.

      ‘Morning, Derek,’ he called as he reached the next stall.

      ‘Watcha, Kevin. How’s the new waitress? She ain’t fainted again, has she?’

      Kevin frowned. Fainted? It was the first he’d heard of it. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about and as far as I know she’s fine.’

      ‘She passed out cold on her first day and I had to carry her through to the kitchen. Ain’t she a pretty little thing?’

      Kevin’s eyes widened. Pretty! Blimey, Derek must need his eyes tested. Pearl was thin, pale and insipid, without an ounce of femininity. ‘Can’t say I think much of your taste, mate. Still, if you like her, as far as I’m concerned, she’s all yours.’

      For a moment Derek’s face saddened. ‘She wouldn’t want me, Kevin.’

      ‘You don’t know that. Give it a go, mate.’

      ‘Nah, it’d be a waste of time.’

      Kevin called goodbye, sauntering along the High Street, his arm lifting to acknowledge other stall-holders. He was still smiling happily, thinking about the money in his pocket. Yeah, he had plenty of dosh now, and would take another trip to Soho tonight.

       Chapter Seven

      During the next couple of weeks Pearl made a point of chatting to Derek Lewis whenever she got the chance, and this had certainly done the trick. The other costermongers still ribbed her, but in a friendly way, and their jokes were no longer smutty. On the whole she enjoyed the waitressing job. As long as she kept her head down and showed Mrs Dolby respect, the woman wasn’t too bad.

      Pearl still felt like an outsider, but had learned a lot. There seemed to be unwritten rules in this little community. There was a strict code that no matter what you saw, or heard, you didn’t speak to the police. People round here took care of any problems in their own special way, but how they did it was still a mystery to Pearl. She had heard snippets of conversation – talk of keeping to your own patch and not treading on anyone’s toes – but had no idea what it meant.

      It was a busy morning, about a month after Pearl had started working at the café. She wiped a hand across her forehead. ‘Can I have my break now, Bernie?’

      He was about to answer when a tall, buxom woman walked into the café. As she approached the counter Pearl’s ears pricked up.

      ‘Are you still looking for a waitress?’

      ‘Yes, we are. Take a seat and I’ll get my wife.’

      Bernie winked as he passed her, but Pearl frowned. It was hard work managing all the tables on her own, but if Mrs Dolby took this woman on, she’d miss the extra ten shillings a week in her wage packet.

      When Dolly came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her large white apron, Bernie followed behind. ‘Right,’ she said brusquely, as she sat opposite the woman, ‘my husband tells me you’ve come about the job.’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘Have you had any experience?’

      ‘I’ve been a waitress in the Trafalgar Café at Clapham Junction for three years, but now they’ve sold the place to Greeks and they’re turning it into an omelette bar.’

      ‘An omelette bar? That’s a new one on me.’

      ‘Me too. I could stay on, but don’t fancy it somehow.’

      ‘I can’t believe the old Trafalgar Café has been sold. It’s been in the same family for years.’

      ‘I know, but old Mrs Watson wanted to retire and none of her lads would take it on.’

      ‘Tell me a bit about yourself.’

      ‘My name is Alice Freeman. I’m thirty-two and live just off Falcon Road. I’m married, with one daughter.’

      ‘How old is she?’

      ‘Yvonne’s eleven.’

      Dolly pursed her lips. ‘The hours are six thirty to three thirty. How are you going to manage that with a kid of eleven?’

      ‘It isn’t a problem. My mother lives next door and already looks after Yvonne while I’m at work.’

      ‘Right, so I suppose it’s down to pay. What are you earning now?’

      ‘I’m on three pounds a week.’

      Once again Dolly pursed her lips. ‘All right, we can match that. When can you start?’

      ‘On Monday.’

      ‘Right then, the job’s yours.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Alice said, smiling widely.

      Pearl picked up the plates, her thoughts racing as she took them through to the kitchen. It didn’t seem fair that Dolly had offered Alice three pounds a week when she, Pearl, was earning only two. They’d be doing the same hours, the