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‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what young lads are like. We were always up to mischief.’
Pearl shook her head, unable to make sense of it all. She was sure that Kevin had said he didn’t know Nobby Clark. He had lied. But why?
Kevin climbed into his car and, leaning over, he opened the passenger door for Nobby, his mind on Pearl Button. Shit! The bloody girl had seen him with Nobby and that was the last thing he wanted.
‘Bloody hell, Derek and Pearl Button. Talk about beauty and the beast,’ Nobby chuckled as he climbed into the passenger seat.
‘Beauty? Pearl ain’t a beauty.’
‘Take a closer look, mate. Her clothes aren’t up to much, and she doesn’t wear a scrap of makeup, but when you get a good gander at her face, she’s a bit of all right.’
‘Don’t tell me you fancy her too?’
‘Nah, she’s too scrawny for me, but I can see the attraction for Derek. He always was a soft bugger and I think the girl brings out his protective instinct.’ He chuckled again. ‘When we were kids, do you remember that dog? Derek went mad when we chucked stones at it.’
‘Yeah, I remember. He nearly blew his top. When Derek’s got his pepper up he can be a nasty sod.’
Kevin revved the car, but before driving off he paused. ‘Look, mate, I ain’t sure about casing this joint. It’s a bit too soon after the last job and I thought we were going to lay low for a bit.’
‘We only got peanuts for those fags and I need more dosh. Dick Smedley said this job would be a doddle. Come on, it won’t hurt to take a look.’
In half an hour they were sitting outside the storage depot. It was in total darkness and there was little to be seen, but even so, Nobby peered through the windscreen. ‘Dick’s right, it looks a piece of cake. It’s still in Vince’s manor so we’ll have to clear it with him, but as long as we offer him the gear, I reckon he’ll be OK.’
‘What makes Dick so sure they store booze?’
‘’Cos he went there pretending to apply for a job.’
‘What about the alarm system?’
‘According to Dick it’ll be easy to nobble.’
‘Huh, and he’s an expert, is he?’ Kevin’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
‘What’s the matter? Turning chicken, are you?’
‘You know me better than that. Anyway, it’d be a waste of time using my car. We’d only get a few cases in the boot.’
‘Like I said, you should’ve got a van, you daft sod. Still, it shouldn’t be a problem. We can nick a van and dump it afterwards.’
Kevin chewed his bottom lip. Up to now, Nobby and Dick had only attempted petty thieving, low risk, but small returns. Now they were looking for bigger jobs, bringing him on board as the driver. There was no doubt this one could make them a lot of money, and at that thought he grinned. ‘All right. I’m in.’
‘Good boy. Right, let’s get back to Battersea.’
Kevin drove home, dropped Nobby off outside his house, and then parked at the back of the café.
His thoughts turned to Pearl Button again, and he scowled. On occasions, until they could shift it, they stored a bit of stolen gear in the back room of Nobby’s empty shop. What if Pearl got nosy again? What if she found it? And if she did, would she link it to him? He was frowning as he quietly went up to the flat, holding his breath as he tiptoed past his mother’s room. Maybe he should have a quiet word in Pearl’s ear. The girl needed a hint that if she was going to live around here, no matter what she saw, or heard, if she wanted to stay in one piece the best policy was to keep her lips zipped.
Chapter Nine (#ulink_2263fa99-ece7-58c8-915c-e79d416f6cf2)
Pricilla Unsworth sat behind her desk at the orphanage, relieved that she had finally sorted the records in preparation for her retirement. They were all in order, but one remained, one that had been carefully guarded from prying eyes. It was Pearl Button’s, the child who had provided her nest egg, and taking out all but the barest details, she was going to destroy it, leaving no trace behind.
When she’d been approached all those years ago, she’d agreed to the ruse, and made sure that she was the one to find the new-born baby on the steps.
Everything had been done by letter; unsigned, with a box number as the return address. With so much to gain, Pricilla had diligently followed the instructions. The person who’d abandoned Pearl wanted no risks, and certainly no questions asked. To that end he, or she, had insisted that Pearl Button was never fostered out, or put up for adoption. Pricilla had thought this over-cautious in the extreme, but financially the arrangement suited her well. For each year that Pearl Button remained in the orphanage, Pricilla had been paid, the money building up to a nice little nest egg.
She picked up the thin file. No doubt the child had been born out of wedlock, perhaps another victim of a wartime romance, but it was almost as if this person wanted to punish the baby along with the mother. Many times she had wondered who she’d dealt with, and had decided it was a man. Of course she couldn’t be certain, but surely only a man could act so callously.
There had been just one sticky moment that occurred during Pearl’s last year, but thankfully it had passed. Pricilla had been surprised when she’d received a letter from a woman enquiring about an abandoned baby, giving only the date of birth. When Pricilla realised it was Pearl’s, her heart had missed a beat. She’d replied, denying any knowledge of the child, and to be on the safe side had arranged for Pearl to leave the orphanage earlier than anticipated. Thankfully that there had been no further enquiries.
It was over now, the girl no longer under her care. Pearl Button had left the orphanage, she had been found employment, a place in a hostel, but that was as far as Pricilla’s authority went. She had no idea where the girl was now, and didn’t care. It was done, finished with, and Pricilla smiled. The money she’d received for Pearl Button had provided a decent retirement fund, and now a nice little cottage in the country beckoned.
About to tear the letter to pieces, she was annoyed to hear a knock on the door. ‘Yes, what is it?’
The art teacher came into the office, her eyes puzzled as she gazed at Pricilla’s poised fingers. Quickly stuffing the letter back in the file, she saw Emily Rosen placing an envelope on her desk.
‘What’s that?’
‘I’ve come to tender my resignation.’
‘Really?’ Pricilla said. ‘And may I ask why?’
‘There is no longer any reason for me to stay.’
Pricilla shook her head impatiently. The woman wasn’t making any sense, but what did it matter? She was leaving too and wouldn’t have the task of finding a replacement. In truth, she had never liked the woman, finding her too inquisitive about the children, asking to see records that were none of her business. There was another knock on her door, and heaving a sigh of exasperation she called, ‘Come in.’
‘Oh, Miss Unsworth, can you come quickly?’ the harassed teacher begged. ‘A serious fight has broken out in the playground and I can’t break it up.’
Pricilla tutted with impatience. ‘I can’t deal with it now.’
‘But, Miss Unsworth, it’s the older girls and I can’t get through them to the poor child they’re picking on. She’s on the ground and looks to be in a dreadful state.’
Pricilla rose hastily to her feet. ‘I’ll have to sort this out,’ she told Miss Rosen.
The woman nodded, saying quietly, ‘Very well.’
Pricilla hurried from her office, but had she looked back, she would have seen the art teacher surveying the file she’d mistakenly left on her desk. Emily Rosen reached to pick it up, flicking it open. As she scanned the contents, a gasp escaped her lips. Her face lit up with joy and for a moment she hugged the file to her chest. Then, carefully replacing it in the exact position she had found it, Emily Rosen scurried out.
In Battersea, Pearl was looking at her sketches. Of all of them, the drawing of Derek stood out as best. His kind eyes looked incongruous against his craggy features, but Pearl thought she had captured the essence of the man. She picked up the sketch of Nora and frowned. She didn’t see much of the cleaner, and the sketch was one she wasn’t happy with. Nora had a round face that was somehow featureless, making it difficult to capture on paper. There was something missing, and as she tried to picture the woman in her mind, she realised it was Nora’s childlike innocence. Placing Nora’s picture to one side, Pearl lifted one of her favourites, a sketch of Frank Hanwell’s son.
She had seen the lad a couple of times hanging around his dad’s stall and was taken by the eight-year-old’s features. He had dark, unruly hair, a tiny nose sprinkled with freckles, but it was his cheeky, gap-toothed smile that Pearl had wanted to capture. She gazed critically at the sketch. It wasn’t perfect, and without paint she had been unable to capture the boy’s wonderful emerald-green eyes.
Placing the drawing back inside the folder, her thoughts returned to Derek Lewis. He’d looked disappointed when she told him they could only be friends, but had still invited her to meet his gran. Thinking of that, her eyes widened. He’d be here soon and she wasn’t ready!
As she dashed around, Pearl knew why she had agreed to go to Derek’s house. She was curious – curious to see what a normal home looked like. All she had known was the orphanage and then the hostel, family life a mystery to her. She’d heard talk, of course. When girls came back to the orphanage after being fostered for a while, they spoke of the families they had stayed with and she had listened to their stories with avid interest. Of course, not all of the tales were good ones, and some were horrible. One girl of thirteen had been used as a servant, forced to do housework from early morning to night, and had slept in a small, cold room under the eaves of the house.
When she heard a knock on the street door, Pearl shook her thoughts away as she hurried downstairs. The orphanage held mostly bad memories, ones she wanted to forget.
‘Hello, love,’ Derek said. ‘I’ve told Gran I’m bringing you round and she’s looking forward to it.’
‘Is she?’ Pearl found she was suddenly nervous and as they walked along the High Street she clung to Derek’s arm. He looked down at her, smiling with pleasure and she managed a small smile back. Oh, he was a nice man. Would his gran be the same?
It didn’t take them long to reach Derek’s house. As they walked in Connie Lewis stepped forward.
‘Hello, ducks, nice to meet you,’ she said, leading them into a small room at the front.
‘It’s nice to meet you too,’ Pearl said, smiling shyly. Derek’s gran was a surprise. She was a tiny, thin woman with sharp features, but like Derek, her eyes were kind.
‘Take a seat, love,’ she invited.
‘Thank you,’ Pearl said, doing so.
‘Derek tells me you’re an orphan.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘How old were you when you were put in the orphanage?’
‘From what I’ve been told, I was a new-born baby and left on the steps.’
‘Oh, that’s awful. Your mother must have been desperate to do that.’
Pearl looked down at the threadbare rug under her feet. Yes, her mother must have been desperate, perhaps unmarried, but Pearl would never know the answers. Over the years she had thought about her. Did they look alike? She had read a novel once in which a servant had been taken by the master and then thrown on to the streets. Was that what had happened to her mother? Scenario after scenario filled her mind. Had her mother been ill – too ill to look after her – and, as she had never come back to claim her, had she died?
‘I’m sorry, love. Me and my big mouth, and now I’ve upset you,’ Connie cried.
‘No, please, I’m all right.’
‘I’ll go and make us all a cup of tea,’ she said, bustling from the room.
‘Sorry about that, Pearl. My gran does have a tendency to put her foot in it, but she doesn’t mean any harm.’
‘It’s all right. There’s no need to apologise.’
Pearl gazed around the room with interest. There was a three-piece suite, and she was sitting on one of the rather lumpy chairs. Under the window she saw a highly polished sideboard, with a lace runner across the top on which sat a few china ornaments. The fireplace was small, and covering the grate there was a little painted paper screen in the shape of a fan. There was a carved fender, and in one alcove a small table on which sat a rather ugly plant. Even with so little furniture the room was crowded, and there was the faint scent of lavender in the air. Pearl found it cosy and wondered what the rest of the house was like.
‘Here we are,’ Connie said as she came back into the room.
Derek took the rather laden tray from her, admonishing, ‘You should have called me, Gran. This weighs a ton.’
Pearl saw pretty china cups and saucers, a teapot, and a plate piled with slices of cherry cake. Connie moved the plant from the small table, and as Derek laid the tray down she bustled out again, calling, ‘I’ll just get the milk and sugar.’
Derek grinned. ‘To tell you the truth, Pearl, we hardly use this room. We live and eat in the kitchen.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t have minded the kitchen.’
‘Well, tell Gran that.’
‘Tell me what?’ Connie asked as she came back into the room.
‘That Pearl would’ve been happy to sit in the kitchen.’
‘Blimey, and there’s me trying to make an impression. Well, we’re in here now, and here we’ll stay. Do you take milk and sugar, love?’
‘Yes, please.’
Connie handed her a cup of tea, followed by a plate with a slice of cake on it. Pearl floundered; with both hands full she couldn’t drink her tea or eat the cake. Maybe she could balance one on her lap?
Connie followed the same procedure with Derek, but instead of consternation, he roared with laughter. ‘I’ve only got two hands, Gran. Am I supposed to eat the cake with me toes?’
Connie laughed too, her eyes bright as she looked at Pearl. ‘As you can see, we ain’t used to airs and graces. All right, I give in, let’s go to the kitchen and at least we can sit around the table.’
‘Thank Gawd for that,’ Derek said.
Pearl stood up and followed Connie through to the kitchen, Derek behind them with the tray. The room was larger with a well-scrubbed table in the centre.
‘Sit down, love,’ the old lady said.
From then on it was more relaxed, the ice broken, and soon Connie was asking Pearl questions again, this time about her job in the café, and Dolly Dolby.
‘I hear the woman’s a bit of a battle-axe. Is that right?’
‘She isn’t too bad. Well, unless she’s in a bad mood.’
‘And that’s every other day,’ Derek said with a chuckle.
‘Derek tells me you live in a bedsit.’
‘Yes, I’m renting it from Nobby Clark.’
‘Is he that tyke you used to knock around with, Derek?’
‘Yeah, that’s the one.’
‘Huh, he’s nothing but trouble. When he was left the shop he could have done all right, but from what I heard he got hooked on gambling. It’s a mug’s game and the shop went under, all the profits going to the bookies. All right, he was only nineteen at the time, but that’s no excuse. You were running the stall on your own, and you’ve done well. What’s Nobby up to these days?’
‘Nothing honest, that’s for sure.’
Pearl thought about the cartons of cigarettes she had seen, wondering if she should mention them, but then Derek stood up.
‘I’m just going out back for a Jimmy Riddle.’
‘A what?’
‘You explain, Gran.’
‘Jimmy Riddle – piddle, its cockney rhyming slang. He’s gone to the outside toilet,’ Connie said, and as the door closed behind him she leaned forward, her eyes now hardening. ‘How old are you, Pearl?
