‘Nobody’s ever asked me that before.’
‘Here we are,’ said Annabelle, and they left the bustle of the pavements to enter the Dickensian atmosphere of the Exchange Teashop, which despite its name served coffee as well. Also, from twelve until two, old-fashioned English lunchtime dishes were available. The decor was in various hues of brown, but the tables were laid with snowy white cloths, and the cutlery looked like silver. A few City gents were present, doing business in a sociable way over tea.
‘I’ll take your hat and coat, sir,’ said a waitress.
‘Do I get them back?’ asked Nick.
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Well, that’s fair,’ said Nick, and Annabelle smiled.
They were given a table for two in a corner. Annabelle kept her hat and coat on, but she unbuttoned her coat to reveal a jersey wool dress of an oatmeal colour. Nick, taken with her looks and her brunette colouring, thought he hadn’t seen too many girls like her walking down Browning Street.
Annabelle, catching his smile, said, ‘Yes, isn’t this fun? I’m a working girl of seventeen and I love toasted crumpets.’ She wrinkled her nose and looked ecstatic. ‘I can smell them. They specialize here.’
‘Tea and toasted crumpets, is that what we’re having?’ asked Nick.
‘Well, I am. Two. Thanks ever so.’
Nick thought about the money in his pocket. A little over three bob. A pot of tea for one was tenpence, a pot for two, one-and-eightpence. How much were the toasted crumpets? Tuppence? Blimey, not in here. More like fourpence.
Up came a waitress.
‘Yes, sir?’ she said.
Nick wasn’t a gauche young man, he’d seen a lot of life in Hackney and Walworth, the seamy side of it as well as its cockney gusto, but it was one thing to be called sir and another not to be able to pay the bill. A slate appeared then, neatly chalked words detailing the menu. He found out later that slates had been used in this fashion for about a hundred years. He picked out the price of toasted crumpets. Fourpence each. He had just enough money to pay for the tea and two crumpets each, plus tuppence for a tip.
With relief he said, ‘We’d like crumpets, please, and a pot of cocoa.’
‘Cocoa?’ said the waitress.
‘Did I say cocoa? I didn’t, did I?’
‘He’s a bit funny in the head today,’ said Annabelle to the waitress.
‘I meant tea,’ said Nick.
‘Pleasure, sir,’ said the waitress. ‘How many crumpets?’
‘Can you manage two each?’
The waitress smiled.
‘I think I can say yes, sir.’
‘We’ll let you know later if we want any fruitcake,’ said Annabelle.
Fruitcake? How much was that? Too late, the slate had gone. I’d better start praying, thought Nick.
It didn’t feel quite real, being in a select City teashop with God’s great-niece. What did feel real was his shortage of money. A request for fruitcake was going to give him a headache. Did she need cake when she’d had lunch with God?
‘Didn’t you have much lunch?’ he asked.
‘Well, no, I didn’t,’ said Annabelle, stripping off her gloves. ‘Just some soup and poached salmon without vegetables. I’d already made up my mind I’d like some toasted crumpets later.’ She looked a bit impish as she asked, ‘What did you think of God?’
‘Look, I wouldn’t have talked about him like that if I’d known he was your great-uncle. And I’ve got to say, Miss Somers—’
‘Ugh to Miss Somers,’ said Annabelle. ‘Don’t be stuffy.’
‘I’ve still got to say I didn’t think you’d do it on me, that you’d tell your great-uncle I trapped you in the lift with me.’
‘Oh, I always tell him the truth,’ she said, ‘and the truth was you did get me stuck in the lift with you. What a scoundrel, Uncle John said, and I said don’t call him that, Uncle John, he was very kind and helpful, and he didn’t trap me deliberately. I told him that was how we met, because of the wonky lift. Are you pleased?’
‘Pleased?’ said Nick. ‘What about?’
‘That we’ve met, of course.’ Annabelle, outgoing and fond of fun, teased him with her smile.
‘Listen,’ said Nick, ‘I can tell you who isn’t pleased, and that’s your god-like relative. Talk about thunder and lightning, I’ll either get the sack or stay a junior clerk for ever. I might as well give notice now and try for a job as a council navvy. It beats me why he didn’t sack me on the spot instead of ordering me to take you to this teashop.’
‘I told him to,’ said Annabelle.
‘You told him to tell me to bring you here?’
‘Yes, why not?’ said Annabelle. ‘I mean, if a girl meets someone who can give a lift gate a rattling good kick, why shouldn’t she let him take her out for tea and crumpets? And you like me, don’t you? You looked at me as if you did.’
‘I like you, yes,’ said Nick, ‘but I shouldn’t.’
‘Why shouldn’t you?’ she asked.
‘I’m not daft,’ said Nick. ‘It’s a cert that if your uncle thought one of his junior clerks had had the sauce to take a liking to you, he’d chop him up. Do me a favour and don’t tell him.’
‘Excuse me, but how old are you?’ asked Annabelle.
‘Twenty-one next month,’ said Nick.
‘Well, you shouldn’t still be a junior clerk,’ said Annabelle, ‘it’s downright disgraceful, treating a young man like you as not much better than an office boy. Just wait till I get back to the offices.’
‘Don’t talk like that,’ said Nick, ‘you’ll cause a riot.’
The waitress reappeared then, carrying a laden silver tray which gave off the aroma of toasted crumpets liberally buttered.
‘Mmm, famous,’ said Annabelle.
‘It’s a nice change,’ said the waitress, setting everything out on the table. Teapot, hot water jug, milk jug and sugar basin were all silver, and so was the salver containing the hot crumpets.
‘What’s a nice change?’ asked Nick.
‘Serving young people,’ smiled the waitress.
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Nick, ‘I’m going grey today.’
‘He’s still having funny turns,’ said Annabelle, and the waitress smiled again and left them to themselves. Annabelle poured the tea, and then she and Nick began to enjoy the crumpets.
‘Are you your uncle’s favourite?’ asked Nick, dispensing with the ‘great’.
‘I’m his favourite discovery,’ said Annabelle. He was, she said, the brother-in-law of her dad’s father, and he’d made a name for himself in the City, where he’d started as an office boy. He ended up living in a different world from her dad’s father, who had a grocer’s shop in Herne Hill. She herself didn’t even know he existed until two years ago, when he sort of turned up out of the blue and nearly frightened everyone to death because he looked and talked like – well, like—
‘Like God?’ said Nick.
‘Don’t be cheeky,’ said Annabelle. ‘Yes, like God. But he must have thought me one of heaven’s angels, because he began to make a fuss of me. Me an angel, can you believe that? Don’t answer if you’re going to be cheeky again. Anyway, he insists I come to the City to have lunch with him once a month, and I’m given time off for that. I work for our family firm at Camberwell Green. Aren’t these crumpets luscious?’
‘I’ll say. D’you like being an angel?’
‘No, I like having fun. My dad’s in the City too, in the wine trade. What does your dad do?’
Suffering cats, thought Nick, why did she have to ask that?
‘He works hard, I can tell you that,’ he said.
‘Well, I’m glad for you,’ said Annabelle. She was talking as if they were old friends. ‘All dads should be a credit to their families. No wonder you look honest and fearless.’
‘Pardon?’ said Nick.
‘Well, you do,’ said Annabelle, who was well into her second crumpet.
‘Who’s havi
ng a laugh?’ said Nick, wondering if her healthy appetite meant she was going to ask for a slice of fruitcake.
‘I’m not laughing,’ she said, but she looked as if she was ready to. Nick thought her distinctly a peach. She had no side, and if her doting great-uncle spoiled her at all, it wasn’t evident. He watched her as she refilled his cup and her own, then topped up the teapot from the hot water jug. The place, fairly busy when they arrived, was quietening down.
‘I don’t see myself as – here, who’s pinched half of the last crumpet?’
‘Me,’ said Annabelle.
‘I thought all of it was mine,’ said Nick, ‘I’ve only had one.’
‘Oh, dear, naughty me,’ said Annabelle, ‘I cut it in half when you weren’t looking. Are you miffed?’
‘No, I can see you’re a growing girl.’
‘What d’you mean, growing? I’ll be eighteen next year. Are you trying to swank because you’re nearly twenty-one? What’s your family like?’
‘It’s a struggle for me,’ said Nick, ‘I’ve got three sisters.’
‘Well, three’s a lucky number,’ said Annabelle, intent on finding out lots about him. ‘You didn’t say what your dad does.’
Blow that, thought Nick. But what did it matter? He’d never see her again.
The lie came out.
‘He’s in the Navy.’
‘My word, now I know why you look saucy as well as fearless,’ she said, and a little laugh escaped.
‘Saucy?’ said Nick, who couldn’t help a large grin.
‘Well, you’re the son of a saucy sailor, aren’t you? And all sailors are saucy, from captains downwards, aren’t they?’
‘Leave off,’ said Nick, and got her away from the subject of sailors and Pa by asking the fatal question. Did she want a slice of fruitcake?
‘No, thanks, but you have a slice, if you want,’ she said, ‘I had half your second crumpet.’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ said Nick, ‘I was lucky enough to get the other half. D’you have many friends?’
‘Yes, nice ones, funny ones and toffee-nosed ones,’ she said, and talked about the funny ones. They sounded more like hooligans to Nick, the things they got up to. He liked looking at her and listening to her. She was as vivacious as Amy, and kind of very nice like Alice. And she had some of Fanny’s cheekiness. She seemed to like talking. He asked her if she had a great-aunt. ‘Well, yes,’ she said, ‘there’s my great-uncle’s wife, she’s my great-aunt. But I call them aunt and uncle, of course. My aunt gardens, climbs ladders and prunes apple trees. Well, she’s only sixty-one. I think the reason why they fuss me is because they’ve never had any children of their own.’
‘Well, your aunt’s a game old girl if she climbs ladders and prunes trees at her age.’
‘That’s my respected Aunt Alice you’re talking about,’ said Annabelle. The teashop was very quiet now. Most customers had left, and no new ones had come in. Nick felt that at their corner table, he was on a little island with this engaging girl. ‘Would you like some more tea?’
‘Thanks,’ said Nick, and she poured him a third cup. She also refilled her own cup. ‘Did you say you come up to have lunch with your uncle once a month?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Well, look here, then, why did you act as if you didn’t know where his office was?’
‘Because you were so funny about everything. D’you like your job?’
‘I like having one,’ said Nick frankly.
‘What d’you do exactly?’
‘Check minor insurance claims,’ said Nick, and told her of the mistake he’d made in passing a funeral expenses claim for over twelve quid when the premium only guaranteed a maximum of ten quid. Annabelle wanted to know whose funeral it was. ‘An old lady from Clapham, Mrs Potter,’ said Nick.
‘Well, I think that was very nice of you,’ said Annabelle, ‘and I’m sure the poor old lady would have thought the same. Ugh to your manager for not letting it go through.’
‘Mistakes like that could ruin the company,’ said Nick.
‘Wait till I tell Uncle John that,’ said Annabelle.
‘Would you do that?’
‘Not after you gave me half your second crumpet,’ she said.
‘You nicked it, you mean.’
They kept talking. The waitress came up and said the teashop would be closing in a few minutes, at five o’clock.
‘Help,’ said Annabelle, ‘I told Uncle John I’d be back by five at the latest.’
Nick asked the waitress for the bill, and she went to get it. Annabelle opened her crocodile handbag. She said it was up to her to pay. Nick had never heard of girls paying. Even less than fellers could they afford to. This girl was different, of course, she had to be well off, but even so Nick felt it was up to him.
‘No, I’ll pay,’ he said.
‘But should you?’ she asked, smiling.
‘Pleasure,’ said Nick. The bill was for three bob, and he gave the waitress three and thruppence. That left him with a penny in his pocket.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said the waitress, ‘I hope you enjoyed the tea.’
‘Lovely,’ said Annabelle, buttoning up her coat. Nick’s boater and coat were returned to him, and when he and Annabelle left, the October twilight was hovering about and the traffic was thicker. Some workers, those who finished at five, were on their way home. Nick’s time was five-thirty, which meant he’d dodge being seen with Annabelle by an outpouring of insurance company employees.
On the pavement, her coat collar turned up against the cold air, she said, ‘Thanks ever so much, I did enjoy it. Goodbye now.’
‘I’ll see you across the road,’ said Nick.
‘There’s really no need.’
‘I think I’d better,’ he said, and when they reached Holborn he took her across to the other side. ‘There you are,’ he said.
She laughed.
‘What d’you mean, there you are? I’m not just out of the nursery, you know.’
‘No, but you’re still our chairman’s favourite relative.’
‘You’re funny,’ she said. ‘Goodbye again, and thanks again.’
‘Goodbye,’ said Nick. He watched her go. She had a quick, easy walk. He watched until she disappeared amid home-going workers. Not having to go back to his desk, he began to walk home. As he had only a penny in his pocket, he walked all the way, thinking, of course, about God’s great-niece.
He said not a word about her to his family. He was sure the awesome J M Douglas really would chop him up if he went around bragging he’d had tea and toasted crumpets with her. As he’d been forbidden to mention it to anyone in the company, he decided to keep it to himself generally.
‘You did what?’ said Mrs Lizzy Somers.
‘I had tea and toasted crumpets with him,’ said Annabelle, a girl who always recounted details of exciting events to her parents. ‘Uncle John rumbled and growled a bit, but in the end he gave Nick time off to take me to the teashop.’
‘Nick?’ said Lizzy.
‘Yes, I told you, Mum, that’s his name,’ said Annabelle.
‘Had you met this boy before, then?’ asked Lizzy.
‘Boy? He’s not a boy, he’s a young man, I told you that as well. Mum, have you been listening?’
‘Yes, and it’s been confusin’ me,’ said Lizzy. Thirty-five, Lizzy was blessed with an Edwardian figure that she fitted daily into a lightweight corset or basque with the confidence of a woman who, despite her humble beginnings, had always known how to dress herself to the best advantage. Her husband Ned could still show her an appreciative eye, even though they’d been married for nearly eighteen years. They had four children, Annabelle who was seventeen, Bobby who was thirteen, Emma eleven and Edward nine. They were all well-behaved, give or take the occasional little fall from grace, and accepting that Annabelle was so outgoing and impulsive she needed to be checked now and again. Lizzy sometimes felt her elder daughter might very well bring home a tramp one day, and ask f
or him to be fed and housed for a week. ‘Annabelle, I wouldn’t like to think the way you met the young man meant you let him pick you up.’ Lizzy was very much like her mother in some respects. Such as speaking proper and behaving proper. Not in all her years in Walworth had Lizzy ever allowed herself to be ‘picked up’. It made a girl look very common. ‘Your dad and me don’t mind any of you bein’ a bit modern, but girls have got to have respect for themselves, or they won’t get respect.’
‘Bless you, Mum, I wouldn’t let myself be picked up,’ said Annabelle. ‘But I couldn’t be toffee-nosed to any young gentleman who helped me get out of a stuck lift.’
‘Yes, but then gettin’ your Uncle John to let him have time off from his work so that he could take you to a teashop, well, wasn’t that a bit fast of you, lovey?’
‘Of course not, Mum,’ said Annabelle blithely. ‘As he’d been so kind, and as he liked me, I thought I’d treat him to the privilege of having tea and toasted crumpets with me.’
‘How’d you know he liked you?’ asked Lizzy.
‘I could see he did. His eyes went sort of dizzy with liking for my health and beauty.’
They were in the kitchen, with Annabelle’s sister and brothers elsewhere, and her dad not yet home from work.
Lizzy, preparing supper, said, ‘I don’t like vanity in a girl, Annabelle. But never mind, I suppose it didn’t do much harm, lettin’ the young man take you to the teashop. I expect he was fairly respectable, or your Uncle John would have said no to you. Anyway, it was just the once. All over now, so I won’t say any more about it, except girls should be careful about makin’ casual acquaintances.’ Lizzy had high hopes for Annabelle, such a lovely girl who’d make a very nice wife later on for someone like a doctor, say.
‘Oh, I’m very careful about that kind of thing, Mum,’ said Annabelle, who didn’t have just once on her mind herself. ‘Uncle John sent his kind regards, by the way.’
‘Oh, lor’, I hope that don’t mean he’s thinkin’ about a visit,’ said Lizzy. The appearance of Ned’s awesome uncle in the family circle when hardly anyone, except for Ned and his parents, knew he even existed, had put Lizzy in a flutter. Well, he really was awesome, and didn’t go in for small talk. But he’d taken to Annabelle all right, and he couldn’t have doted more on her if she’d been his granddaughter. Fortunately, Annabelle didn’t think him a bit fearsome, and she’d even been known to pull his leg.
Pride of Walworth Page 7
