Summer at 23 the Strand

by Linda Mitchelmore

‘God’s waiting room,’ Jean had laughed. ‘All sat in shelters facing the sea waiting for the call.’

  Ana had laughed with her, not fully understanding what Jean meant. But there were shelters facing the sea, although she hadn’t seen a soul in any of them on her walk along the promenade. Had Jean meant that the place was full of old people waiting to die, to go to be with God?

  ‘What,’ Ana asked when the man brought over her tea, ‘does “God’s waiting room” mean?’

  ‘Eh? You’re a rum ’un! Funny question. It means people nearing the end of their natural, knowing it’s not worth buying green bananas ’cos they might not live long enough to see ’em ripen.’ He guffawed loudly and Ana struggled to translate what he had said into her native tongue. Banana was the same in both languages. Ripen was coace. Natural was also the same in both languages. Green was verde in Romanian but bananas weren’t green, were they? But none of it was making sense in either language to Ana now.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand one hundred per cent what you say.’ Ana knew she would have a little pleat of worry lines between her eyes.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart. I’m teasing you. The thing is, I’m just glad to have a bit of company, and a bit of young company at that. I’m Fred, by the way. And you are…?’

  ‘Ana. Ana Dumitru. I look for work. You have work?’

  ‘If only I could offer you some, sweetheart,’ Fred said. ‘As you see, I’m hardly rushed off my feet today. If I don’t get a good summer – and this one has been so-so so far – then the winter can be pretty grim for me. I’ll be on bread and water till Easter comes round again and the place fills up.’

  Bread and water? Ah, he meant he would be poor in the winter with no customers, didn’t he?

  Ana’s stomach rumbled noisily and she blushed, embarrassed. She’d had no breakfast. Nothing to eat since midday the day before, in fact.

  ‘Blimey, sweetheart,’ Fred said. ‘That was like a dragon getting ready to breathe fire that was. I’d better fill you up then, hadn’t I?’

  Ana was totally confused now. Dragon? Breathe fire? Fred was a friendly man, smiling despite the fact he might have a hard time in winter, but Ana was struggling to keep up with what he was saying, to understand.

  She looked around his café and saw three wooden high-chairs for babies and toddlers lined up against the wall, and a pang of loss that she now wouldn’t have a baby to sit in a high-chair swamped her, almost as fast and furious and all-consuming as a tsunami on her soul.

  ‘Get this down you, sweetheart,’ Fred said, coming back with a slice of something Ana didn’t recognise. Pastry with jam and then cake and some nuts on top.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t have enough money for cake.’

  ‘It’s called Bakewell tart. And I don’t want paying for it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ana said. ‘But I’m not a beggar lady. I will work for what I have.’

  ‘I know you’re not, and I know you will. But I’m a soft touch where a pretty girl down on her luck is concerned. I’ve got three girls of my own and my youngest has had no end of rotten luck and she’s like you – proud. Works her skin to the bone sometimes, she does, and still stuff happens, as they say.’

  Ana saw tears in Fred’s eyes as he talked about his daughter. His lips twitched. Ana knew that look. She’d had to fight back tears more times than she could count. She couldn’t think of a thing to say so she picked up the piece of cake and took a nibble.

  ‘And that tea of yours must be getting cold by now. I’ll fetch you another. And before you start complaining, sweetheart, the tea’s on the house as well.’

  On the house? What was that? Ana’s heart sank a little. She’d thought her English was improving, getting quite good in fact, but Fred was providing her with a whole new lexicon. And ‘sweetheart’. She knew ‘sweet’ and she knew ‘heart’ but not the two together. She would ask. Fred didn’t seem to mind explaining things to her.

  He was back with the tea in no time.

  ‘Why do you call me “sweetheart”? I am Ana.’

  ‘Yes, I know you are now, sweetheart, but that’s what I call anyone – man or woman, boy or girl – who makes my heart beat a little sweeter for being in their company.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ana said. She understood exactly what he was saying and it was her turn to bite back tears… but tears of happiness that she had met Fred on such a terrible morning and he was being so kind to her. She would risk another question. ‘Do you have a friend – nice like you – who might be able to give me some work? And somewhere to live?’

  Fred put the fingers of one hand to his lips and blew through them.

  ‘Phew. Now you’ve asked me something. I’ll give it a little think, eh? In the meantime you could wander up the town and see if any of the ticky-tacky tripper shops can give you work. Or a bit further, where, so I’m told, there are ladies’ clothes shops and the like. You might find work there.’

  Ana found her way to the town. Ticky-tacky tripper shops, Fred had said. Ana wasn’t sure what that meant but she thought it might mean gambling machines and shops selling buckets and spades and holiday souvenirs. There were rows and rows of shops selling more or less the same thing, and gambling rooms with rides for children outside, and inside there were more people than she’d expected there to be given the weather, sliding coins into slots. Beep beep. Ping. Lots of flashing lights. Lots of shops selling skirts and trousers and very bright tops were further up the street. There was a big awning here, out over the pavement, and, with all the people huddled under it out of the rain, Ana found it difficult to get past. Her stomach rumbled again, despite the delicious cake of Fred’s she’d eaten, and she decided to cut short her search for work – there was always tomorrow and she would start early, nine o’clock, when the shops opened – and find somewhere she could buy food instead. And on the way home, if the rain stopped, she would walk along the beach and look for shells.

  ‘Cooee,’ the lady from Number 19 The Strand called out as Ana hurried along, trying to avoid making eye contact. She felt her neck sink into her shoulders – or was it her shoulders rising up to meet her ears? She shivered. It had stopped raining now but her clothes were still damp. In her pocket, her left hand was closed carefully over two small white shells she had found on her walk back along the beach – like the shell Venus was climbing out of in the painting by Boticelli, only much, much smaller, no bigger than her thumbnail. She couldn’t wait to get out of her wet things and find something dry to wear. She’d left a lot of clothes and shoes behind in Bristol, bringing with her only what she could carry… two small holdalls she’d bought in the market and a rucksack.

  ‘Cooee,’ the woman called again.

  Ana knew her manners. She looked up.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  The woman made her way carefully down the steps just as Ana reached the bottom one.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ the woman said, ‘if I came across a bit abrupt earlier. Didn’t mean to. So, seeing as we’ve got two weeks as neighbours, shall we be friends?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Ana said. Perhaps she, too, had been guilty of being a bit abrupt earlier. On the defensive. Vasile had said she was always on the defensive, but that was only because he’d had the habit of criticising and undermining just about everything she said and she had stood up for herself.

  ‘Cup of tea then?’ the woman said. ‘I’m Shelley. Michelle, really, after my French grandmother but everyone calls me Shelley.’

  ‘No thank you, Shelley,’ Ana said. ‘I am very wet and very hungry. I want to go to my chalet now to change, and to eat.’

  ‘Later then?’ Shelley said. ‘Off you go.’

  ‘Yes, later,’ Ana said. And off she went, a little lighter in spirit that Shelley, like Fred, was being kind and friendly. She would ask Shelley, when she got to know her a little better, if she knew anyone who could give her a job and somewhere to live.

  Ana took a quick shower and changed into dry clothes. Then she took out her l
aptop. She typed in ‘Torbay’ and then ‘jobs’ and did a Google search. There were jobs in banks and solicitors’ offices, and there was one for a receptionist at a doctor’s surgery. All seemed to require qualifications Ana didn’t have. She sighed. This was going to be so much harder than she’d thought it would be.

  Her phone beeped then, and Ana grabbed it from the table in front of her. She checked it wasn’t Vasile. No, not him. Her mother.

  Oh, no! Her mind full of finding a job and looking on the internet, and a quick peek into Facebook to see what her sister was doing, and Jean back in Bristol, Ana had completely forgotten to ring her mother at the usual time.

  She knew there would be recriminations because she’d forgotten to call, but she also knew her mother would be relieved she was well, and tell her she loved her and would ask when she was coming over for a visit. If all else failed she could go back to Romania, couldn’t she? But did she want to?

  ‘Bunā seara, Mama,’ she said.

  Ana slept fitfully. She was unused to it being so quiet outside at night. In Bristol, and the other cities she’d lived in, the hum of traffic and the buzz from the neon lights never stopped. All Ana had heard, sitting up in bed with a cup of Rooibos tea – which she had hoped would help her sleep, but hadn’t – was the shush of water splashing against the sea wall as the tide was high. And then early – very early, about five o’clock – she had heard the screech of a gull. And not long after that a dog had barked. And then she had drifted off to sleep at last.

  ‘Nine o’clock?’

  Ana had never slept in that late before and had to say the words out loud to make herself believe them. Back in Romania there had always been jobs to do for her mother – who had been affected by the communist regime and could never quite believe it wouldn’t come back – before she could go to school, or work when she got older.

  ‘But you’re on holiday,’ she told herself, and laughed.

  Ana didn’t know what to do on a holiday because she’d never had one. In the hotels, people who came on holiday often stayed in bed much later than nine o’clock, which made making the beds and vacuuming and replenishing the welcome trays difficult. And sex. Many of them had lots of sex if the state of the beds was anything to go by. Ana wasn’t at all sure now that looking for work in a hotel would be a good idea. Maybe it was time to try something different?

  Perhaps Shelley from Number 19 The Strand had the right idea about being on holiday – to sit on the deck and just gaze about and say ‘hello’ in a cheery way to passers-by. Ana didn’t think she could knit though.

  She made a cup of coffee and put a slice of toast under the grill. When the toast was the shade of brown she liked it to be she slathered it with butter and took her breakfast outside onto the deck. The sun was already high and it was quite warm.

  Oh, Shelley was walking back up the beach, a towel wrapped round her. And she had bare legs and nothing on her feet. With a varicose vein Ana could see from where she was sitting. She shivered, thinking how cold the water must be. It was July, but in Ana’s experience summers in England weren’t as hot as they were in Romania. Winters weren’t as cold either, which was a bonus.

  Ana placed her coffee and toast on the table and waved to Shelley.

  Shelley waved back.

  As Shelley came within hearing distance Ana called out, ‘Would you like coffee? I have coffee. And toast. Or tea.’

  It seemed the thing to do, to be friendly. And Shelley reminded Ana of her mother a little – she said things without really thinking. Like when Ana had told her mother she was coming to England and she’d held up her hands in horror and said Ana would be a prostitute before she knew it. As if Ana would consider such a thing, although she knew of girls who had sunk to that to pay the rent and buy food.

  ‘What was that?’ Shelley said, nearing Ana’s chalet. She put a finger in her ear and waggled it. Shook her head. ‘Water gets in my ears and I can’t hear a thing.’

  Ana repeated her offer.

  ‘Coffee will be very welcome, Ana. I’ll just get out of these wet things and spend a penny and I’ll be right over.’

  Spend a penny? What was that? Surely Shelley wasn’t going to go to the shops before coming round for a cup of coffee? And what could she buy for a penny in the shops anyway? Ana let her mind race around trying to work out what ‘spend a penny’ might mean while she waited for Shelley.

  Shelley was back in no time, so obviously the phrase didn’t refer to buying anything. Ana brought the water back to the boil and made coffee for Shelley and took it out to her.

  ‘That’s better,’ Shelley said, pulling out the other chair on Ana’s deck. She took the coffee from Ana and sipped cautiously at the hot liquid. ‘Seawater is very exhilarating but it goes for the bladder.’

  ‘Ah, I think I understand now,’ Ana said. She smiled. ‘When you said you were going to spend a penny, I thought, at first, you were going to the shops. But it means to go to the toilet?’

  ‘It does indeed,’ Shelley said. ‘I did think you looked a bit puzzled when I said it but I was desperate. Well done you for working it out for yourself. Bit of a light-bulb moment for you, I expect.’

  Light-bulb moment?

  ‘Yes,’ Ana said. She’d worked out what that meant too.

  ‘We English speak in riddles much of the time,’ Shelley laughed. ‘But I daresay you’re getting used to our funny ways now.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘So, lovey, are you going to join me tomorrow morning? Sets you up for the day, a quick dip in the briny does.’

  Ana didn’t understand every word but she got most of it.

  ‘I don’t have a dress for swimming,’ she said.

  ‘Swimming costume, lovey. That’s what you say. Not dress.’

  ‘I still don’t have one – dress or costume,’ Ana said, laughing.

  ‘Ah, but I can remedy that. I’ve got four with me, although they might be a bit of a tight fit on you – I’m so skinny, you see. And you should laugh more… you’re a lovely-looking young woman when you laugh.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ana said. She’d been told she was good-looking before but it was hard to believe when Vasile had said one thing and then behaved to her in a bad way… that made her smile drop and lines appear between her eyes and on her forehead, and it made her mouth droop.

  ‘But do I detect some sadness in you, Ana? Tell me to mind my own if you don’t want to say.’

  ‘I don’t mind saying,’ Ana said. ‘I was pregnant but I lost the baby, and then the father of the child left me. So, I am here to make a new life. A better life.’

  There, that was the first time she’d said those words and somehow it seemed the right thing to be doing, saying them to Shelley.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, lovey. Really sorry,’ Shelley said. She put down her cup of coffee and leaned across the table to give Ana a hug. ‘The baby, I mean. I’ll stick my head above the parapet here and say I think you’re better off without the man, in the circumstances.’

  ‘I think you are right,’ Ana said. She was fast coming to like Shelley very much – she liked the way she said what she thought but that there was caring and concern in every pore of her too.

  ‘If I were you, lovey, which I know I’m not, I’d let yourself mourn that little baby of yours before you go stressing about finding a job.’

  ‘I am mourning,’ Ana said, gulping back tears. Sometimes it made her even sadder if someone was being understanding and kind than it did if they were saying bad things. ‘Every day. But I still have to live. And to live I need money, and to get money I will have to find a job. And somewhere to live.’

  ‘Well, that’s the right spirit,’ Shelley said. ‘After your little holiday. After a swim with me tomorrow morning, perhaps? Like I said, you can borrow one of my costumes.’

  ‘You are kind to say nice things of me, but I don’t need to borrow your costume, thank you.’

  ‘You could buy one then. Loads of shops up the main
street selling costumes in every colour and style and size imaginable.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to swim. The water must be cold, even though it’s July.’

  ‘But getting warmer by the minute. All that rain we had yesterday cleared the air something wonderful.’

  Ana had to agree. It was getting warmer, the sun streaming onto her deck. She could see Shelley’s thin grey hair curling as it dried in the warmth.

  ‘So, what are you going to do today, lovey?’

  ‘I’m going to look for work. I’ve looked on the internet for jobs in the area but I don’t have the right qualifications for what’s available at the moment. So, I’m going to go into town and see if there are letters in windows saying “Job vacant”. My friend, Jean, in Bristol told me I might find a job that way.’

  ‘Well, good luck with that. You need luck as well as the skills to do the job these days. Sometimes, though, it’s just being in the right place at the right time that matters. But its “notices”, lovey. Not letters. We say “notices in windows”.’

  Oh dear. Shelley was correcting her again and although Ana knew the older woman meant kindly, and was only trying to help, still it made something cold wrap around her heart, her soul, like a damp blanket. But she wasn’t going to give up.

  ‘Notices in windows,’ Ana repeated. ‘I’ll remember that.’

  ‘Good. You’ll get there, lovey. It’s great that you’re being proactive – which I believe is common parlance for getting off your backside and doing something for yourself. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll let you get on.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the very tall and elegant woman in Buttons and Bows Boutique said, ‘but the job’s just gone. I agreed to take someone on just half an hour ago. If only you’d come in earlier, I think you might have been perfect. I should have taken the notice out of the window. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.’

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ Ana said, ‘that the job’s just gone.’ She would have liked to have worked here in a shop that sold beautiful things and for a woman who seemed so friendly and genuinely sad she couldn’t offer Ana the job. And then she said, ‘If the person you’ve taken on doesn’t work out, could you let me know? I could give you my email address?’