Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle

by Pam Weaver

  ‘Right, Pearl, give me a hand to clear these tables. I’ll explain what you have to do as we go along, though it ain’t hard. Take the customer’s order and write it on a slip, along with the table number.’

  ‘Table number?’

  ‘Yes,’ Bernie said, pointing to a block of wood next to a cruet set on which a number was painted boldly in red. ‘Leave the top copy with the customer, and the carbon copy goes to the kitchen. Always ask if they want tea and bread and butter with their meal because we make a good profit on those. Dolly will ring a bell when the order is ready so make sure you listen for it. Have you got that?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Good. Now as soon as a customer leaves, make sure you clear the table ready for the next one. Take the dirty plates to the kitchen and give the table a quick wipe down.’

  Pearl already felt bemused.

  ‘Don’t look so worried. Once you get the hang of it you’ll be fine. Oh, yes, I forgot to mention cutlery. You’ll find knives and forks over there on that trolley,’ Bernie pointed.

  The door opened and two elderly ladies bustled in, pausing as they took in the scene. ‘Blimey, don’t tell me you’ve lost yet another waitress.’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Ena.’

  ‘It’s just as well you keep your wife out the back or you’d lose all yer customers too,’ the other lady chuckled.

  ‘Yeah, I think you’re right. Now what can I get you?’

  ‘Just two cups of tea, please.’

  ‘Pearl, take those plates to the kitchen,’ Bernie said, with a wave of his arm, ‘and then finish the rest of the tables.’

  Pearl picked up the stack, hurrying away. Nerves made her hands shake, the cutlery on top rattling and sliding in an alarming manner. With relief she placed them on the large wooden table at the entrance to the washing-up room, glancing through to see Gertie giving her a wide grin. The woman’s sparse, reddish hair was moist from the steam rising from the sink, her face shiny with perspiration.

  ‘Is that the lot?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve only got two more tables to clear.’

  ‘Thank gawd for that. I’ll just about finish the washing-up before the lunchtime rush starts.’

  ‘Yeah, so stop talking and get on with it!’ Dolly snapped.

  Pearl had just cleared the last two tables, taking the crockery through to the kitchen, when the back door to the yard opened.

  ‘Sorry I took so long, Dolly,’ a short stocky woman said as she rushed in. ‘The waiting room was packed and it was ages before I saw the doctor. Mind you, it was a waste of time. He reckons I’m just a bit run down and said I should take a tonic. Tonic indeed! I tried to tell him that it’s more than that, but he wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘Christ, another Mrs Neverwell. I don’t know why I put up with you and Gertie.’

  ‘Hello, love,’ the woman said as she spotted Pearl.

  Dolly heaved a sigh. ‘Pearl, this is Mo, or Maureen Price, and she’s my vegetable cook. Now enough chat and let’s get on. Mo, you’ve been out for over an hour, so get on with the potatoes.’

  With a smile at the harassed-looking woman, Pearl left the kitchen. ‘What do I do now?’ she asked Bernard.

  ‘It’ll be quiet until lunchtime and it’ll give me a chance to show you how things work behind the counter, but first you can refill the cruets.’

  A couple of young women came in. ‘Two teas, please,’ one of them said, and turning to her companion she added, ‘Grab a table by the window so we can keep an eye on our prams.’

  Pearl started on the first table, checking the condiments and filling those she found empty. It was hot, the sun blazing through the windows. Her throat was dry, but, too shy to ask for another drink, she carried on.

  She had finished half of the tables when a door she had seen to the side of the counter opened, a tall, dark-haired young man appearing.

  ‘Any chance of a cup of tea, Dad?’

  Bernie’s face darkened, but his voice was level as he said, ‘We’re still a waitress short and I could do with a hand later.’

  ‘Sorry, no can do. I’ve made other arrangements,’ and, picking up the cup of tea that his father had poured, he headed for the kitchen, pausing for a moment as he passed Pearl.

  She kept her head down, moving to the front of the dining room, and couldn’t fail to hear the remarks made by the two young women sitting at a window table.

  ‘Cor, that Kevin Dolby’s a bit of all right.’

  ‘Yeah, and he certainly ain’t a chip off the old block. He looks nothing like Dolly or Bernard.’

  ‘If I wasn’t a married woman, I might be tempted.’

  ‘Leave it out. Your old man would skin you alive.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Glancing out of the window, she added, ‘Sod it, we’d best be off. My baby’s waking up.’

  As they hurried out, Pearl only had one table left to check and it was where the two elderly ladies sat. Smiling shyly at them, she picked up the salt pot, carefully removing the lid.

  ‘How are you getting on, dearie?’ one asked.

  ‘Fine,’ Pearl told her.

  ‘Just keep your head down and you’ll be all right. What’s your name?’

  ‘Pearl Button.’

  ‘Blimey,’ she said, unable to keep a straight face and echoing Dolly Dolby as she added, ‘Your parents must have a sense of humour.’

  Pearl just nodded, and as she made to move away Kevin Dolby reappeared, taking a seat in the dining room. The old lady put a hand on her arm, whispering urgently, ‘Dolly Dolby can be a dragon, but she’s as soft as shit when it comes to her son. If you want to stay in her good books, take my advice and stay away from Kevin.’

  Puzzled, Pearl now went to the counter, but she had hardly reached it when the kitchen bell rang. When she hurried to answer it, Dolly said, ‘Give that breakfast to my son.’

  Pearl picked up the huge fry-up and carried it through to the dining room, her mouth salivating. It was nearly eleven, and with no breakfast that morning her stomach growled with hunger.

  Nervously she placed the plate in front of Dolly’s son, relieved when, after giving her a cursory glance from hazel eyes, he went back to reading his newspaper, only murmuring, ‘Get me a couple of slices of bread.’

  She went to the counter to find Bernard chalking a list of lunchtime meals onto a blackboard. There was steak-and-kidney pie, sausages and mash, pork chops, or liver and bacon. Apple or Bakewell tarts were added for pudding, along with custard. Once again Pearl’s mouth salivated, her stomach growling as she buttered the bread.

  With more important things on his mind, Kevin hardly noticed the new waitress. He finished his breakfast, stood up and, leaving his empty plate on the table, went back to the kitchen.

  ‘Mum, can I have a word?’

  ‘What is it, love?’

  ‘Most of me mates have got cars, but I’m still riding a scooter.’

  ‘Blimey, Kevin, that Lambretta was a lot of money and you’ve only had it for a year.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but I’ve been offered a lovely Vauxhall Wyvern for two hundred quid.’

  ‘Two hun—’

  ‘Listen, Mum,’ Kevin interrupted, ‘a new one would be five hundred and fifty, not forgetting the purchase tax. This one’s only a couple of years old and it’s a bargain.’

  ‘It’s still a lot of money, son.’

  Please, Mum,’ Kevin wheedled. ‘All me mates have got cars now. Scooters are for kids.’

  ‘Kevin, I threw a big party for your twenty-first birthday and it cost me a pretty penny. Now you want money for a car. It doesn’t grow on trees, love.’

  Kevin pouted, his expression for a moment that of a small boy. ‘Pleeease, Mum.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  He smiled secretly, knowing that with a bit more persuasion he’d get his own way. He could pull the asthmatic trick again, say it was due to the dust he breathed in when riding his scooter. That would give her a fright and w
ith any luck she’d give in.

  ‘We could do with a hand at lunchtime.’

  The smile left Kevin’s face. ‘I’ve got things to do, Mum. Can’t you manage without me?’

  ‘We’re a bit pushed. Rita walked out and the new girl’s inexperienced. I doubt she’ll cope with the lunchtime rush.’

  Kevin knew what buttons to push. ‘From what I saw she’s doing all right, and I must say she ain’t bad-looking.’

  ‘She’s just a kid and far too young for you,’ Dolly snapped.

  Pearl came in carrying Kevin’s empty plate, and as she placed it on the table he moved to her side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. ‘Hello, we haven’t been introduced.’

  The girl flushed, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes, her words sounding breathless as she said, ‘Er … hello.’

  ‘Kevin, we can manage without you,’ Dolly said hurriedly.

  He smiled inwardly. ‘Thanks, Mum. I’ll see you around tea time.’

  ‘Don’t stand there gawking, Pearl. Get back to your work!’

  ‘Yes. Sorry, Mrs Dolby.’

  Dolly’s face softened almost imperceptibly as the girl ran back to the dining room. At last, a youngster who showed a bit of respect. Mind you, she’d have to keep an eye on her when Kevin was around. Pearl was just a bit of a kid, and as she was an orphan there was no knowing what sort of background she came from. There might be bad blood in her family and she was therefore totally unsuitable for her son.

  ‘Mo,’ Dolly shouted, ‘have you finished the spuds?’

  ‘Not yet, but I won’t be much longer.’

  ‘We’re all behind ’cos of your bleedin’ trip to the doctor’s. When you’ve finished, get on with the onions. There’s liver and bacon on the menu today so make sure you do enough.’

  ‘Yeah, all right, Dolly.’

  It was quiet for a while as the women worked, Dolly placing the pork chops in the oven before laying out the pies ready for warming. Next she part-fried the liver, ready to be finished off with bacon when she got an order. There were only the sausages to get on now. So after vigorously forking them, Dolly placed them on a tray to cook later.

  She glanced up at the clock. ‘Gertie, you’d better have your break, and you, Mo, get the spuds on.’

  Mo placed the large pans on her cooker, added a generous amount of salt and lit the gas. ‘There, done, and once I’ve finished the onions I’ll get on with the cabbage and carrots.’

  The Bakewell and apple pies had been delivered yesterday, and the custard already mixed, so after giving Gertie a bacon sandwich, the woman’s usual fare, Dolly took this opportunity to have a break too.

  In the dining room there were only a few customers, but Dolly knew it was the calm before the storm. At lunchtime the place would be heaving and she hoped the new girl would cope. After a quick look at the tables, she sat down near the counter, her eyes now on Pearl.

  Bernie was showing her how to make the tea, water pouring into the pot from the hot-water urn, a cloud of steam momentarily obscuring Pearl’s face. As it cleared, Dolly saw that the girl’s cheeks were pink from the heat, and she frowned, noticing for the first time how pretty she was. She hadn’t seen it when interviewing her, and wondered why.

  As though suddenly aware that she was being observed, Pearl quickly lowered her head. That’s it, Dolly thought. It was her mouse-like demeanour, the way she kept her eyes down and her shoulders hunched.

  ‘As that tea is freshly made, you can pour me a cup and take a couple through to the kitchen for Mo and Gertie,’ she said, thankful that at least the girl wasn’t plastered with make-up. Kevin usually went for the obvious types, and had made a play for several of her previous waitresses. Of course, as soon as this happened she got rid of them, vowing never to employ a girl with looks again.

  Had she made a mistake with Pearl? Yet as the girl came from behind the counter and carefully placed a cup of tea on the table, she doubted it. Once again she looked like a mouse, with a slim figure that was almost boyish. No, she definitely wasn’t Kevin’s type.

  Chapter Three

  As the first lunchtime customers entered the café, Pearl took a deep breath in an effort to steady her nerves. She waited until they had sat down before approaching their table, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Her pad was poised.

  ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Hello, who’s this?’ the costermonger asked his companion.

  ‘I dunno. Rita served me for breakfast. Has she left, darlin’?’

  ‘Yes, this morning. Now, what can I get you?’ Pearl asked again.

  ‘Blimey, she talks well, Charlie.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll grant you that.’

  The door opened again, four men walking to a nearby table and, seeing them, Pearl’s hands shook. She hadn’t taken this order yet, but already had to take another. ‘Please, what would you like?’

  ‘You on toast will do. Mind you, with the amount of meat on you I wouldn’t get much of a mouthful.’

  Pearl reddened, relieved when the one called Charlie placed his order. ‘I’ll ’ave the steak-and-kidney pie, love.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll ’ave the same.’

  She scribbled it down, dashing to the kitchen, but as she laid the order on the table, Dolly spoke sharply. ‘What do you call this?’

  ‘It … it’s an order.’

  ‘There’s no table number on this slip, and this copy goes to the customer. If they’re paying separately they have a slip each. I have the bottom copy.’

  ‘I … I’m sorry. I’ll write it out again, but I don’t know if they’re paying separately.’

  ‘Make sure you ask next time.’

  ‘Yes, sorry.’ Then hurriedly leaving the kitchen, Pearl approached the table again, her head bowed.

  ‘I’m sorry, I forgot to ask if you’re paying separately for your meals.’

  ‘Yeah, but don’t worry, love. We’ll split the bill between us.’

  ‘Oh, thank you.’

  ‘Here, miss, are we getting served today?’

  ‘Yes, sorry,’ Pearl said as she went over to the other table, her head once again low and feeling that she had said nothing but ‘sorry’ since she started. She flushed as one of the men at the table began to sing.

  ‘“Pussycat, Pussycat, what did you there? I frightened a little mouse under her chair.”’

  Bernard Dolby wandered over. ‘Give Pearl a chance, Frank. It’s her first day and she hasn’t done the job before.’

  The man slowly scrutinised her and she held her breath, thankful when he finally said, ‘Liver and bacon for me.’

  The other three men gave their orders and this time, asking if they were paying separately, she had to make out four slips. As she tore them off and handed them out, it seemed a daft idea to her. Why write separate orders for each customer? Surely there was a more efficient way? However, as the café began to fill she dismissed it from her mind, and after dashing to the kitchen with the orders she almost ran to the next table.

  Having finished their meal, the four men on table five stood up. As they walked towards the counter, one beckoned to Pearl, saying, ‘Do you want a tip, love?’

  She didn’t know what to say. Yes, she needed tips, but hadn’t expected to be asked.

  ‘Here’s a good tip for you. Have a bet on Imperial Lad running in the three thirty at Newmarket.’

  All the men burst into laughter. ‘Gawd, that’s a good one, Frank.’

  Humiliated but determined to hide it, Pearl went to clear their table. It was only as she picked up the last plate that she saw the threepenny bit underneath. Pearl looked up quickly, just in time to see Frank giving her a wink as he went out of the door. Oh, he was nice really, and somehow she would have to get used to these rough men’s humour.

  It was chaos by one thirty and Pearl could hardly keep up, her brow beaded with perspiration as she carried yet more plates out of the kitchen. She glanced at the clock, praying the lunchtime rush was almost over. Her
lips were parched, throat dry, and she felt weak with hunger, legs wobbling beneath her.

  Bernie was standing at table one, talking to a huge, fair-haired, craggy-faced man who looked like he’d been in a fight. She shuddered, hating violence, but when she finished giving the customers on table seven their order, Bernie beckoned her over.

  ‘Pearl, this is Derek Lewis. He’s an amateur boxer and a good one. Take his order next, will you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Blimey, girl, there’s no need to call me sir. Bernie will do.’

  ‘Is there any steak-and-kidney pie left?’ Derek asked.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not, but the liver and bacon is very tasty.’

  Pearl saw that Bernie was looking at her with approval, and when Derek agreed to have the liver, Bernie positively beamed.

  ‘Well done, love,’ he whispered as she hurried past, slip in hand and heading for the kitchen.

  When she had cleared three more tables and taken another order, the bell rang in the kitchen. Pearl went to get the order, which was the liver and bacon for table one.

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ said Derek Lewis, when she brought it over. ‘Bernie tipped me the wink and I’ll have a word with the other costermongers. They’ll leave you alone in future.’

  ‘Oh, no, don’t do that. I don’t want them to think I’ve been complaining.’ Pearl’s eyes were wide with appeal, but then she suddenly swayed. The room dimmed, voices came as though from a distance, her knees buckled, and she knew no more.

  When Pearl opened her eyes, she saw unusually pale blue ones looking back at her and it took her a moment to realise she was in Derek Lewis’s arms.

  She struggled, but became still when he said softly, ‘It’s all right, pet. I’m just taking you through to the kitchen.’

  ‘Wh … what happened?’

  ‘You fainted.’

  Pearl was placed on a chair and, dizzy again, she leaned forward.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Dolly asked sharply.

  ‘She passed out, Mrs D. Your old man told me to bring her in here.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you can go now.’

  When Derek left the kitchen, Gertie hurried over. She gave Pearl a glass of water, and then asked, ‘’Ave you been sick in the mornings, love?’