spoil your day, Cora had to stop herself from saying. Then she gave herself a shake. This was an ideal offer. It might not bring Hazel the wedding dress of her dreams, but they would all eat better than they’d done for years and it would get Alison out from under her feet. ‘I have to warn you that she ain’t improved in looks or temperament at all,’ she said. ‘She might scare off your customers so you’ll want to keep her out the back. But credit where credit’s due,’ she added, hoping she hadn’t said too much and made him change his mind. ‘She’s reliable, that’s what her reference says.’
‘There you are then,’ said Fred. ‘I don’t need someone with film star looks round here. If she can add up orders and sweep a floor, that’ll do me to start with. And from what I remember she’s a bright girl.’
‘Well, I’ll get her to come down tomorrow and you can see if she’s suitable. She should be very grateful. You’re a good man, Fred Chapman, and don’t think I don’t know it.’
‘So we’ll be happy all round,’ beamed Fred. ‘You get that nice bit of beef home and have a slap-up meal. I’d stew it, myself. Tasty as can be when it’s stewed. And I’ll see your girl tomorrow.’ As Cora saw herself out, Fred hoped he’d done the right thing. But surely the daughter of his old friend couldn’t be all bad. Her mother was just tired. He knew how difficult it was to be cooped up with a family member all day every day. As for the girl, he’d find out soon enough what she was really like.
‘A butcher’s?’ said Alison as they were sitting at the dinner table that evening.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ demanded Cora. ‘There’s no room for you to be la-di-da, it’s a good honest job so make sure you’re there first thing tomorrow.’
‘But I don’t know anything about it,’ Alison said. She was terrified of the idea. A shop – talking to people who’d be whispering about her as soon as her back was turned. What if she got it all wrong? And there would be blood from the meat everywhere.
‘What do you need to know about it?’ Hazel was scornful. How typical of her sister to make a fuss before she’d even started. ‘You ain’t got to kill anything. You just shove it in bags and take people’s money. Even you must be able to manage that.’
‘But the blood …’ Alison began.
‘Don’t tell me you mind a bit of blood,’ Cora said. ‘You know where meat comes from. You’re happy enough to eat it.’ She looked pointedly at Alison’s empty plate. They’d all enjoyed the stew. Fred had been right – it had been a very tasty piece of beef and they hadn’t eaten that well for ages.
Hazel wasn’t going to back off. ‘You know we need the money. And you haven’t exactly been flooded with job offers, have you? So that settles it. End of.’ She got up to help clear the table. ‘Come on, pass me your plate. I’m in a hurry as I’m going to see Neville. He’s got a night off at last.’
Alison was silent as she did as she was asked. She tried to remember what Fred Chapman was like. She’d seen him when she was little but that wasn’t much help. Had he brought them sweets? It might have been someone else. Yet it was a rare enough event for it to have stuck in her memory.
‘Don’t just sit there, help your sister,’ snapped Cora.
Alison slowly got to her feet. ‘Did Fred once bring us sweets when we were kids?’ she asked.
Cora thought for a moment. ‘Don’t know. But it’s the sort of thing he’d do. He’s a kind man, Fred is. You’re lucky.’ Then she laughed. ‘At least you won’t be struck dumb by his good looks. He’s shorter than you are, twice as wide, nearly bald and wheezes like he’s just run all the way from the park up to Clapham Junction.’
‘You’ll be the perfect pair!’ crowed Hazel. ‘Short fat Fred and long tall Alison with the face that could sink a thousand ships. You’ll draw the crowds, you will. People will come for miles.’ She finished stacking the dirty dishes. ‘There you are, your turn to wash up. I’m off.’
‘Maybe I’ll be good for business then,’ Alison said, trying to persuade herself that this might turn out all right, despite her sister’s comments. ‘I must be good for something.’
‘First time for everything,’ said Cora dismissively.
Falcon Road was busy, full of people going to work, heading for Clapham Junction or coming from there, or waiting for buses to take them up the hill. Alison huddled in her gabardine mac, wishing she’d put on her worn-out coat, which although shabbier, was slightly warmer. Would it be any better in the shop? If there was raw meat around it would probably be cold. Just what she needed on a day like this. As she reached the door it started to rain and she hurried inside, chilled to the bone.
At once she was hit by the smell. It made her want to run outside again. But before she could turn to leave, Fred Chapman came through the plastic curtain that divided the shop area from whatever lay behind and smiled in welcome. She was trapped.
‘Alison! Well, look at you,’ he said, looking up at her – he was quite a bit shorter and she could see the top of his nearly bald head. ‘Grown so tall! I hope we can get you an apron to fit. The last assistant was much smaller than you.’
Marvellous, thought Alison. I’ve done something wrong already. What a good start.
But Fred was fussing round and found something he thought would do. ‘You take this and come through to the back. We won’t open until nine so we’ve time for a cup of tea and to get you settled in.’ He pushed his way through the curtain and gulping, trying not to breathe too deeply, Alison followed him.
There were two enormous fridges on the right but on the left, a door led into a surprisingly cosy room. A gas fire was on full and Alison was irresistibly drawn to it, holding out her red hands to warm them. Fred was making himself busy at a small counter in the corner, where there was a kettle and various tins. ‘Tea, sugar, and the milk’s in here,’ he said. ‘This big one’s for biscuits. Fancy a digestive to settle your stomach?’
Alison nodded. ‘How did you know?’
‘Happens to lots of people,’ said Fred. ‘You get used to the smell, you know. I’ve just been separating some cuts of meat. So that’s what you smelt when you came in. Can’t tell in here though, can you? So if it gets too much to start with, you come in here. Here’s your tea.’
‘Thanks, Mr Chapman,’ said Alison, shyly sitting down, wrapping her hands around the mug.
She helped herself to a biscuit and began to feel better.
‘You’d better call me Fred,’ said Fred. ‘Otherwise I shall be getting above myself. We won’t do too much today. You can just watch me and get to meet some of the regulars. You probably know lots of them.’ Alison was dreading having to come face to face with so many people every day, but said nothing. She knew that everyone whispered behind her back as soon as they saw her – somehow she’d have to deal with it as best she could. ‘You might weigh me out some sausages in a bit. That won’t be too bad, will it?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I think I could do that.’
Fred gave Alison all the easy things to do in the morning, showing her how to use the big scales, the till, where the change was kept and what went where in the giant fridges. He kept her away from where the big carcasses were hung and didn’t ask her to cut anything except sausages. He was quietly surprised at how quickly she seemed to pick things up and assumed her nervousness was down to being new at the job. He had no idea how awkward she always felt around people. She’d much rather stay in the back where no one could see her.
Alison avoided any of the building beyond the fridges as she had no wish to see the raw, bloody meat any more than she had to. By the time