Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle (6 page)

His mother’s voice rang out again and, hearing it, Kevin’s determination was renewed. Not for him someone like his mother. Not for him a woman with a forceful personality. If the day ever came, and he doubted it, that he got married, he would make sure his wife was a pretty little thing. Someone meek and mild, who would have no chance of dominating him.

Chapter Six

‘I’m home, Gran!’ Derek Lewis called as he stepped into the small terraced house. It was Monday and he’d been delayed, but now hurried upstairs. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said.

Derek gazed down at his beloved gran, and frowned worriedly. She still looked frail, despite the doctor saying she had only a touch of bronchitis. Connie Lewis was a tiny woman, grey-haired and thin, but she was wiry and rarely ill. ‘Sorry I’m late but I had a bit of stock to pick up. Have you had your medicine?’

‘Yes, and stop looking so worried. I think I’ll be well enough to come downstairs tomorrow.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘We won’t. If I have to stare at these four bloody walls for much longer, I’ll go batty.’

‘All right, keep your hair on. I’m off to make us something to eat. What do you fancy?’

‘Something light. Perhaps a boiled egg, with bread and butter.’

‘You need more that that. How about a pork chop with mashed potatoes?’

‘No, thanks, but you have a chop. Is it your night for the gym?’

‘Yes, but I don’t want to leave you if you still feel rough.’

‘I told you, I feel fine, and a fraud for laying here.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’

‘Gawd, Derek, will you stop treating me like a bleedin’ invalid? I ain’t ready for the knacker’s yard yet.’

There was a spark in her eyes now and Derek grinned. When his mother had been killed during the war, he’d come to live with his gran. At the time he’d been ten years old, a lost and frightened little boy, but she had taken him under her wing, showering more love on him than he’d ever received from his flighty mother.

He’d questioned Gran about his father, but she fobbed him off so many times that he’d given up asking. It was only as an adult that he found out why. On his birth certificate, the space for listing the father’s name was blank.

Derek bent forward, planting a kiss on his gran’s papery cheek. ‘I’m off to put your egg on.’

‘It wouldn’t suit you, love.’

‘Very funny, and if you’re cracking jokes you must be feeling better.’

‘I am, and put plenty of butter on me bread.’

As Derek went downstairs he found his thoughts turning to the café and the new waitress. Pearl looked such a frail little thing, too frail to be working for Dolly Dolby. When she fainted and he’d carried her to the kitchen, she was as light as a bird, her huge eyes full of fear as she looked at him. Well, she had no need to fear him. In fact, he was determined to look out for the girl.

In no time his gran’s egg was ready, and having spread the butter thickly on the bread, he carried the tray, complete with a cup of tea, upstairs. ‘There, get that down you.’

‘Thanks, pet, and what are you having?’

‘I think I’ll pop into the chippy on me way back from the gym. It ain’t good to spar on a full stomach.’

‘Derek, you’ve had fish and chips three times this week!’

‘It won’t kill me, Gran. You’ll be up soon and no doubt shoving vegetables down me throat again.’

‘I will, and I’ll make sure you eat the lot.’

They smiled at each other. Then Connie tapped the top of her egg, and Derek went to the bathroom for a wash. He stood looking at his face in the mirror over the basin. For a moment a frown
creased his forehead. Boxing had certainly taken its toll, and was that the start of a cauliflower ear? Yes, maybe, but what did it matter? He’d never been much to look at in the first place.

An hour later he’d given his gran another cup of tea, and was ready to leave. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’

‘Derek, for goodness’ sake just go. Those kids you’re helping along will be waiting for you.’

‘All right, I’ll see you later,’ he called, clattering back downstairs and out of the house.

In no time he reached the gym, a few kids crowding round him as soon as he walked in. His eyes flicked round the large room, noting a few other nippers having a go on the punch bags, their thin arms making little impact. A couple of blokes were sparring in the ring, a trainer watching them avidly, but other than that the place was empty.

Derek tousled the nearest boy’s head. ‘Right, let’s get you lot sorted. Jimmy and Bill, you do some skipping, and, Ricky, get your gloves on ready for a spar when the ring is clear.’

They all ran to do his bidding and he smiled. They were good kids, better off in the gym than running the streets.

Jimmy, though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, was Derek’s favourite, a kid he was sure he had turned round. The lad had hesitantly entered the gym six months ago, and it hadn’t taken Derek
long to learn that the boy was regularly beaten by his drunken father. He’d been running wild on the streets, rebelling, nicking stuff off stalls, but coming to the gym had changed all that. At first he’d seen the boy taking his anger out on the punch bag, but gradually he had grown in confidence.

Yes, Jimmy was a lot happier now, especially since Derek had taken it upon himself to have a quiet word in his father’s ear.

The following morning, Pearl was dashing along the High Street. Some costermongers were already setting up, and as she passed Derek Lewis he raised his hand to wave.

His stall was half ready, piled with china, and Pearl looked at some of the sets with interest. Maybe in another couple of weeks she could buy cups and saucers to replace the old chipped ones she’d inherited with the room.

She reached the café, rushing inside to see Bernie behind the counter as usual. ‘Hello, love,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ve just made a pot so do you want a cuppa before you start?’

‘Yes, please,’ she said, taking her apron from the hook and tying it around her waist.

‘Here you are then, and take this one through to Dolly.’

Pearl took the cup, careful not to slop any tea in the saucers. It was something she knew Dolly
Dolby hated, and had felt the sting of her tongue the first time the tea had over-spilled.

Gertie didn’t start work until seven, and Mo nine, so there was only her employer in the kitchen.

‘Good morning, Mrs Dolby,’ she said, hoping that the woman was in a good mood.

‘Morning,’ Dolly said shortly, adding, ‘I thought I told you to tie your hair back.’

‘I’m just about to do it,’ Pearl said, hurriedly fishing for the elastic band in her apron pocket.

‘Get it done and go back to the dining room. It won’t be long before the breakfast rush starts.’

Pearl scrapped her hair back, hopes dashed. Mrs Dolby was obviously in a foul humour, and she dreaded the rest of the day. When her employer was in a good mood – if any of her moods could be called good – the job was easier, but when bad-tempered, like today, she would build mountains out of molehills, making all their lives a misery.

She went back to the dining room, and as she swiftly drank her tea, Bernie gave her a sympathetic smile.

‘I can see by your face that you’ve found Dolly with the hump. It’s Kevin’s fault. He didn’t come home until one in the morning on Saturday and he was out all hours last night too. Dolly was out of her mind with worry.’

‘One o’clock in the morning! My goodness.’

‘Yeah, and God knows what the young tyke was up to.’

Pearl wondered too, but then the café began to fill with costermongers, all ready for large breakfasts. They took it in turns, watching each other’s pitches, but even so, the café was soon packed.

Derek Lewis came in at eight, but ordered only two bacon sandwiches to take away.

‘No breakfast this morning?’ Pearl asked.

‘My gran’s a bit under the weather so I’m popping home to give her one of these. Frank’s keeping an eye on my stall.’

Pearl watched him leave, wondering if she could tell him about her landlord and his threat on Saturday night. She was frightened of Nobby Clark, needed someone to protect her, but didn’t feel she knew Derek 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.’