sweater. To Pearl she looked the ultimate in sophistication.
‘Watcha, Pearl, it’s nice to meet you at last.’
‘Hello,’ Pearl replied shyly.
‘So, you work in the café? Rather you than me.’
‘It’s not too bad.’
‘What, you must be kidding. That Dolly Dolby is a right old dragon.’
‘Now then, Emma,’ Mo admonished. ‘Dolly might be hard, but she’s fair.’
‘Yeah, if you say so, Mum. Anyway, Pearl, what sort of music do you like?’
‘Er … I don’t know really. I don’t get the chance to listen to much music.’
‘Well, we can soon sort that out. If you ain’t got anything planned, come up to my room and we’ll play some records.’
‘Not now, Emma,’ Mo protested. ‘It’s Sunday morning so let’s listen to something soothing for a change. How about putting a few of my records on instead? Pearl might like Frank Sinatra, or maybe Doris Day singing “Secret Love”. That one’s got a smashing tune.’
‘No, thanks, Mum, I don’t want putting to sleep.’ She turned to Pearl. ‘I suppose we’d better keep the old girl happy. We can listen to Bill Haley later.’
‘Old girl! Who are you calling an old girl? I’m only forty-three.’
‘All right, keep your hair on.’
‘Yours could do with a brush, my girl.’
‘You must be kidding. It took me ages to get it like this.’
‘You’ve wasted your time then. Why don’t you have a nice perm like me?’
‘Mum, it’s nineteen fifty-six, not ’forty-six. Perm indeed. They’re for old ladies.’
Pearl listened to this repartee, unable to help smiling. The banter between Mo and her daughter was all light-hearted, with smiles to take the sting out of the words.
‘Why are you wearing those daft trousers again?’ Mo asked her daughter.
‘Daft! They ain’t daft. They’re the latest fashion.’
‘Huh. What do you say, Pearl? Don’t you think they look soppy?’
Pearl floundered. She didn’t want to offend either of them. ‘Er … I think they’re nice, and they suit Emma. I don’t think I could wear them, though.’
‘Of course you could,’ Emma said, looking Pearl up and down. ‘We’ll still go up to my room but instead of playing records, we’ll do something about your wardrobe.’
‘My wardrobe?’
‘Yeah, you need bringing up to date and I’ve got just the thing.’
Pearl followed Emma upstairs, surprised when instead of going to Emma’s bedroom, they went into hers.
‘Right, let’s have a look at your gear,’ Emma said, sitting on the side of the bed.
‘I haven’t got many clothes,’ Pearl told her and, going to her sparse wardrobe, she pulled out the lovely rose-patterned dress. ‘I got this from the second-hand shop, but I haven’t had the chance to wear it yet.’
‘Gawd blimey, it looks like something a posh bird would wear to a royal garden party. It’s way too old for you.’
‘Is it? But I think it’s lovely.’
‘I can see you need teaching a thing or too. What else have you got?’
‘Just a few skirts and blouses.’
‘Come on, I’ll show you some of the latest gear,’ Emma said, going into her room. She pulled out a pair of trousers. ‘I got these Capri pants in Petticoat Lane last week, but they’re a bit too tight. Try them on.’
Pearl looked at the pale blue trousers doubtfully, but at Emma’s insistence she slipped them on. ‘Here, try this sweater with them,’ Emma said, holding out a black polo neck.
Once again Pearl did as she was told, and when she turned to look at herself in the mirror her eyes widened.
‘Sit down and I’ll have a go at your hair. That style looks schoolgirly. You need to fluff it up a bit, like this,’ Emma said, picking up a comb and vigorously backcombing Pearl’s hair. ‘Don’t you wear make-up?’
‘Er … no.’
‘Right, more to sort out. I’m gonna enjoy you living here, Pearl. It’s sort of like having a kid sister. Here, try this,’ she said, spitting on a block of mascara and rubbing it vigorously with the small brush. ‘Put some of this on your eyelashes, and then try some lipstick. You need a bit of powder too, but my shade would be too pale for your skin.’
Bemused, Pearl applied the make-up, astounded at the result. Her eyes looked larger, her lips fuller, and though the backcombed hair looked strange, it did add height.
‘Come on, let’s go and show Mum your new look,’ Emma urged. ‘I can’t wait to see her face.’
Pearl took one last look in the mirror before following Emma downstairs, and as they walked into the kitchen, Mo gaped. ‘My God, what has my daughter done to you?’
‘Leave it out, Mum. She looks great.’
‘She looks like a clone of all your friends. If you ask me, these new teenage fashions are like a uniform. Teddy boys all dress alike and you girls are the same.’
‘Take no notice of her, Pearl. In fact, next week I’ll take you up to Petticoat Lane and you can buy a few things of your own.’
‘Thanks, Emma, but I’m afraid I can’t afford new clothes. Any spare money I have goes on painting material.’
‘Painting! What do you mean?’
‘I … I go to art classes.’
‘Do you?’ Mo said, and turning to her daughter she added, ‘You could do with taking a leaf out of Pearl’s book. Instead of spending all your time going dancing you could be learning something too.’
‘Oh, yeah, like what?’
‘Well, how about dressmaking? That would come in handy.’
‘Mum, all my life I’ve had to wear clothes that you made for me, and jumpers that you knitted. It’s the last thing that I want now and I’d sooner buy them off the rails.’
Mo’s face saddened. ‘I didn’t know you felt like that. I … I did the best I could.’
‘Oh, Mum, please don’t get upset. I didn’t mind when I was a kid, honestly I didn’t, but it’s different now that I can afford to buy my own clothes. Look, I’ll think about learning something, maybe typing and shorthand.’ She turned to Pearl, an appeal in her eyes, ‘Here, why don’t you show us some of your paintings?’
Pearl took the cue. Emma had upset her mother and obviously wanted to divert the conversation. ‘I haven’t done many paintings yet. But I’ve got lots of sketches.’
‘We’d still like to see them.’
Pearl hurried upstairs, grabbed her folder and riffled through it until she found the one of Mo. It was a good likeness, but unsure of how the woman would feel about it, she stuffed it into her dressing-table drawer before returning downstairs.
‘Gawd, look at this one of Dolly Dolby,’ Mo said as they went through the folder. ‘And there’s one of Gertie too. These are really good, Pearl.’
‘Thank you,’ Pearl said, gratified to see Mo looking cheerful again.
‘Oh, look, here’s one of Nora.’
‘It’s not very good.