venture.’
‘You make it sound very grand.’ Alice smiled.
‘It
is
very grand. I feel dead proud that you’re my friend. Hold on, I’ll just get some glasses from the kitchen.’
While she was gone, Alice glanced around the big, rather gloomy room that was at least warm. A big fire burnt in the massive fireplace. The book Bernadette had been reading was lying face down on the floor alongside an empty cup that had obviously contained cocoa. She wouldn’t have wanted to be in Bernie’s shoes, not for a moment, but just then she felt a certain amount of envy for her friend for being able to do as she pleased – go to bed when she liked, stay out as long as she cared to without someone breathing down her neck wanting to check up on her every single moment. She squirmedguiltily when she considered how much nicer life would be without John.
Oh, Lord! Alice felt sick. According to the sideboard clock it was ten to nine. But, she reasoned, if John was worried it was his own fault. She couldn’t confide in him any more, tell him about Myrtle’s. Even when she got back she could tell him where she’d been, but not
why
. He would be quite likely to tear up the cheque, say he didn’t want her working. Best to leave telling him till Myrtle’s was actually
hers
.
‘Hey! I’ve just thought of something.’ Bernadette returned with the glasses. ‘How did Cora know who to make the cheque out to?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Alice took the cheque out of her bag and read it properly for the first time. ‘It ses “Pay Flynn Properties”.’ She read it again, frowning. ‘
Flynn Properties
’?
Bernadette shrieked, ‘The bitch! Myrtle’s belongs to Horace Flynn.
He’s
the owner of the property company that awful daughter was on about. Oh, Al! Right now, I bet Cora Lacey’s laughing up her sleeve.’
Myrtle came into the salon wearing a slightly bald astrakhan coat with a brown fur collar, a dusty black hat shaped like a turban and fleece-lined ankle boots. The lace on one of the boots was undone. Alice made her sit under a dryer while she tied it. ‘In case you trip over, like.’ She stroked the creased, bewildered face. ‘Take care, Myrtle, luv. Look after yourself, won’t you? We’re not half going to miss you.’
‘Here, here,’ echoed Florrie Piper who had just arrived for her weekly shampoo and set.
A taxi drew up outside and Olive Cousins came downstairs dragging a large, shabby suitcase. ‘Gerra move on, Mam,’ she snapped. She went pink. ‘I mean, dohurry, Mother.’ She turned to Alice. ‘Good luck with the salon,’ she said shortly. ‘I hope you do better with the place than Mother did. I must say you could have knocked me down with a feather when you turned up this morning with that cheque.’
Mrs Glaister, Myrtle’s friend, appeared. ‘You forgot your handbag, luv,’ she said gently. ‘I’ve put a clean hankie inside and a quarter of mint imperials, your favourite.’
‘Ta.’ Myrtle smiled tremulously at everyone. ‘Can I have a cup of tea?’
‘No, you can’t, Mother. The taxi’s waiting. Say goodbye to your friends.’ Olive roughly dragged the old woman to her feet. She glanced sneeringly around the room. ‘It won’t exactly break my heart not to see
this
place again.’
The door closed and Myrtle Rimmer left Opal Street for ever. Mrs Glaister burst into tears. ‘It won’t exactly break my heart not to see
her
again either. Expecting to find Myrtle had saved thousands of pounds, she was, when all she’d saved was hundreds. Mind you, she’s taken every penny.’
‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea to make that cup of tea, Alice,’ Florrie Piper said. ‘Forget about me and me hair for the minute, though I wouldn’t mind a cuppa meself.’
Alice hurried into the dingy back kitchen to put the kettle on, remembering that Olive Cousins had emptied the till last night, but hadn’t thought to pay her. She’d worked four days for nothing. But never mind, from now on she would
‘You make it sound very grand.’ Alice smiled.
‘It
is
very grand. I feel dead proud that you’re my friend. Hold on, I’ll just get some glasses from the kitchen.’
While she was gone, Alice glanced around the big, rather gloomy room that was at least warm. A big fire burnt in the massive fireplace. The book Bernadette had been reading was lying face down on the floor alongside an empty cup that had obviously contained cocoa. She wouldn’t have wanted to be in Bernie’s shoes, not for a moment, but just then she felt a certain amount of envy for her friend for being able to do as she pleased – go to bed when she liked, stay out as long as she cared to without someone breathing down her neck wanting to check up on her every single moment. She squirmedguiltily when she considered how much nicer life would be without John.
Oh, Lord! Alice felt sick. According to the sideboard clock it was ten to nine. But, she reasoned, if John was worried it was his own fault. She couldn’t confide in him any more, tell him about Myrtle’s. Even when she got back she could tell him where she’d been, but not
why
. He would be quite likely to tear up the cheque, say he didn’t want her working. Best to leave telling him till Myrtle’s was actually
hers
.
‘Hey! I’ve just thought of something.’ Bernadette returned with the glasses. ‘How did Cora know who to make the cheque out to?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Alice took the cheque out of her bag and read it properly for the first time. ‘It ses “Pay Flynn Properties”.’ She read it again, frowning. ‘
Flynn Properties
’?
Bernadette shrieked, ‘The bitch! Myrtle’s belongs to Horace Flynn.
He’s
the owner of the property company that awful daughter was on about. Oh, Al! Right now, I bet Cora Lacey’s laughing up her sleeve.’
Myrtle came into the salon wearing a slightly bald astrakhan coat with a brown fur collar, a dusty black hat shaped like a turban and fleece-lined ankle boots. The lace on one of the boots was undone. Alice made her sit under a dryer while she tied it. ‘In case you trip over, like.’ She stroked the creased, bewildered face. ‘Take care, Myrtle, luv. Look after yourself, won’t you? We’re not half going to miss you.’
‘Here, here,’ echoed Florrie Piper who had just arrived for her weekly shampoo and set.
A taxi drew up outside and Olive Cousins came downstairs dragging a large, shabby suitcase. ‘Gerra move on, Mam,’ she snapped. She went pink. ‘I mean, dohurry, Mother.’ She turned to Alice. ‘Good luck with the salon,’ she said shortly. ‘I hope you do better with the place than Mother did. I must say you could have knocked me down with a feather when you turned up this morning with that cheque.’
Mrs Glaister, Myrtle’s friend, appeared. ‘You forgot your handbag, luv,’ she said gently. ‘I’ve put a clean hankie inside and a quarter of mint imperials, your favourite.’
‘Ta.’ Myrtle smiled tremulously at everyone. ‘Can I have a cup of tea?’
‘No, you can’t, Mother. The taxi’s waiting. Say goodbye to your friends.’ Olive roughly dragged the old woman to her feet. She glanced sneeringly around the room. ‘It won’t exactly break my heart not to see
this
place again.’
The door closed and Myrtle Rimmer left Opal Street for ever. Mrs Glaister burst into tears. ‘It won’t exactly break my heart not to see
her
again either. Expecting to find Myrtle had saved thousands of pounds, she was, when all she’d saved was hundreds. Mind you, she’s taken every penny.’
‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea to make that cup of tea, Alice,’ Florrie Piper said. ‘Forget about me and me hair for the minute, though I wouldn’t mind a cuppa meself.’
Alice hurried into the dingy back kitchen to put the kettle on, remembering that Olive Cousins had emptied the till last night, but hadn’t thought to pay her. She’d worked four days for nothing. But never mind, from now on she would
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