Kevin.â
âYou donât know that. Give it a go, mate.â
âNah, itâd be a waste of time.â
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 wasnât 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 didnât 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 â talk of keeping to your own patch and not treading on anyoneâs toes â but had no idea what it meant.
It was a busy morning, about a month afterPearl had started working at the café. She wiped a hand across her forehead. âCan I have my break now, Bernie?â
He was about to answer when a tall, buxom woman walked into the café. As she approached the counter Pearlâs ears pricked up.
âAre you still looking for a waitress?â
âYes, we are. Take a seat and Iâll get my wife.â
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, sheâd 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. âRight,â she said brusquely, as she sat opposite the woman, âmy husband tells me youâve come about the job.â
âThatâs right.â
âHave you had any experience?â
âIâve been a waitress in the Trafalgar Café at Clapham Junction for three years, but now theyâve sold the place to Greeks and theyâre turning it into an omelette bar.â
âAn omelette bar? Thatâs a new one on me.â
âMe too. I could stay on, but donât fancy it somehow.â
âI canât believe the old Trafalgar Café has been sold. Itâs been in the same family for years.â
âI know, but old Mrs Watson wanted to retire and none of her lads would take it on.â
âTell me a bit about yourself.â
âMy name is Alice Freeman. Iâm thirty-two and live just off Falcon Road. Iâm married, with one daughter.â
âHow old is she?â
âYvonneâs eleven.â
Dolly pursed her lips. âThe hours are six thirty to three thirty. How are you going to manage that with a kid of eleven?â
âIt isnât a problem. My mother lives next door and already looks after Yvonne while Iâm at work.â
âRight, so I suppose itâs down to pay. What are you earning now?â
âIâm on three pounds a week.â
Once again Dolly pursed her lips. âAll right, we can match that. When can you start?â
âOn Monday.â
âRight then, the jobâs yours.â
âThank you,â Alice said, smiling widely.
Pearl picked up the plates, her thoughts racing as she took them through to the kitchen. It didnât seem fair that Dolly had offered Alice three pounds a week when she, Pearl, was earning only two. Theyâd be doing the same hours, the same amount of work, but because the woman was older, sheâd be paid more.
Gertie turned to give Pearl a grin. âIf someoneâsapplied for the
Shelley Bates
Randall Lane
Debra Webb
Benjamin Kelly
Bianca D'Arc
Sara Brookes
S.K. Munt
Mary Jo Putney
Sandip Roy
R.L. Stine