but she was sure it would become easier once she got the hang of it, and if they found another waitress it could be a doddle. She would be finished at three thirty, leaving her lots of time to study, her goal now becoming a little closer.
‘Are you all right now?’
Yes, I’m fine thanks, Gertie.’
‘Right, I’ll get back to the kitchen. There’s only one more customer waiting to be served on table eight, and a few more to clear.’
‘Thanks,’ Pearl said again.
She glanced around the café, but there was no sign of Derek Lewis. Determined to thank him for his help on her way home, she later asked Bernie where she could find him.
‘He’s a costermonger selling china about halfway down the market.’
‘Why are they called costermongers?’ Pearl asked.
‘It’s an ancient name for men selling stuff from barrows or stalls, especially fruit and vegetables. I know it isn’t used much nowadays, but I like to keep up the old traditions. Most of the men working in the market have had their pitches handed down from father to son, and though they may sound a bit rough at times, they’re a good crowd.’
Pearl listened with interest, and then glanced at the clock. It was after two thirty. All the unoccupied tables were cleared, and apart from one or two late customers, the café was nearly empty. Pearl’s feet were throbbing, but at least her tummy was full, and despite the constant ribbing from some of the male customers, she’d enjoyed her first day.
Bernie gave her a tray of tea to take to the kitchen, saying he would pour one for her when she returned.
‘I don’t want any more fainting fits, girl,’ Dolly said. ‘See that you eat something before you start work in the morning.’
Pearl agreed, about to leave the kitchen when her employer spoke again. ‘You did well for your first day. Keep it up.’
Pearl smiled, unused to praise, and was still smiling as she returned to the dining room.
‘Blimey, Dolly, what’s come over you?’ Gertie asked.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘If I’m not mistaken, you actually praised the new waitress.’
‘Yeah, well, this one’s a bit different. She shows me some respect, which is more than I could say for Rita.’
‘Things ’ave certainly changed since the war,’ Mo said as she came over to take a cup from the tray. ‘Kids ain’t got any respect nowadays. My Emma came down this morning dressed in something she called Capri pants. They looked daft, if you ask me, and I told her they were too short, but she just laughed. She said it’s the Brigitte Bardot look. I ask you, who’s Brigitte Bardot? She’s got herself a bleedin’ record player too, a Dansette, and it cost twelve quid. Now all I hear day and night is flaming rock-and-roll music.’
‘Twelve quid! Where did she get that sort of money?’
‘She got it off the club, and I just hope she keeps up the payments. Gawd, I wish her father was still alive. He’d ’ave sorted her out.’
‘Yeah,’ Gertie agreed. ‘And as for that Brigitte Bardot, she’s a French actress, and from what I’ve heard she’s a right sexy piece.’
‘It’s disgusting, that’s what it is,’ Dolly said. ‘The way young girls flaunt themselves nowadays they’re just asking for trouble. Still, as I said, Pearl seems different, and she doesn’t wear make-up plastered all over her face.’
‘She seems a nice enough kid,’ Gertie agreed.
‘Right,’ Dolly said, putting her cup back on the tray, ‘let’s get finished up. I don’t know about you two, but I’m fair worn out.’
The back door opened and Kevin appeared, his look furtive as he clutched a bag behind his back.
‘Hello, love. What have you been up to today?’
‘Not now, Mum,’ he said, hurrying through the kitchen without stopping.
Dolly frowned, wondering what was wrong with the boy. She went back to her tasks, rushing to get them finished so she could go upstairs to their flat. Kevin looked upset, and she wanted to know why.
As she walked along the market, Pearl’s eyes were peeled for Derek Lewis. When he saw her approaching him he quickly finished a sale, moving to the front of his stall.
‘Are you feeling better now?’
‘I’m fine and wanted to thank you for helping me.’
‘Leave it out. It’s the first time I’ve had a girl swooning at me feet and it won’t do me reputation any harm.’
‘Here, Derek, got yourself a bit of stuff, ’ave you?’ a voice called from the next stall. ‘Hang on, ain’t that the little mouse from the café? Well, at least you’ll only ’ave to leave her out a bit of cheese.’
Derek laughed, shouting back to the stallholder, ‘Shut up, Frank! You’re just jealous.’
‘Not me, mate. I like a bit of meat to get hold of, and you’ve seen the size of my wife.’
‘Yeah, nobody could miss Lucy when she’s in full sail.’
‘You cheeky bugger,’ Frank Hanwell called, but then had to serve a customer. ‘What’s that, missus? Of course me lettuce is fresh. Hand-picked from Covent Garden this morning.’
Derek chuckled and then turned his attention back to Pearl. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather when you passed out. What brought it on?’
‘Oh, nothing really. It’s just that I hadn’t eaten.’
She saw Derek frown, his soft voice at odds with his build as he said, ‘Are you all right for money, love?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, but I must go now. Thank you again for your help.’
As Pearl walked away she kept her head low, but as she passed Frank’s stall he started to sing again. ‘“Pussycat, Pussycat, where have you been? I’ve been up to London to visit the Queen. Pussycat, Pussycat, what did you there? I frightened a little mouse under her chair.”’
She picked up her pace, and with the raucous voices of the other traders calling their wares, she didn’t see or hear Derek Lewis approaching Frank Hanwell, his fists clenched threateningly.
When Pearl walked into her bedsit she sighed with appreciation. The room was small, with just a built-in cupboard and chest of drawers, but to her it was heaven, a place of her own.
In one corner there was a curtained-off area, behind which was a sink and a single gas ring. In a tiny cupboard there were a few pieces of crockery, a small saucepan and a frying pan.
After kicking off her shoes, Pearl went to the tiny kitchen, placing the kettle on the gas ring. She wasn’t hungry after that wonderful meal in the café and was counting her blessings, especially as she was down to her last tin of soup.
Who’d have thought she’d get a job with a meal thrown in? She turned on the gas tap, frowning when she realised she’d have to feed the meter. Her precious few tips were just enough to cover the shilling needed, so feeding the coin into the slot, she hoped there would be more tips forthcoming in the morning.
There were used tea leaves in her small strainer and, carefully pouring boiling water over them, she frowned at the weak brew. Still, things were looking up and soon she’d be able to get a bit of shopping. Not only that, now that she was earning again her dream of taking art classes felt a little bit closer.
After drinking the tea, Pearl had a strip wash, carefully hung up her one and only decent dress, then threw on an old pair of pyjamas. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she picked up her sketch pad and pencil.
Everything