Читать книгу Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle - Kitty Neale - Страница 12

On Monday morning the fog had cleared and Carol’s mother, Daphne Cole, stood at the bottom of the stairs to shout impatiently, ‘Carol, get up! If you don’t get a move on you’ll be late for work.’

‘Yeah, I’m coming,’ she called back sleepily. Carol hated Monday morning, and her boring job in the shoe shop did nothing to inspire her to get out of bed. She didn’t mind most of the customers, but dreaded those that had smelly feet, especially if they wanted her to take their foot measurements. However, as she became fully awake Carol thought about the shop fitter who had caught her eye. Now he was worth getting up for.

It didn’t take Carol long to get ready, but she wished she didn’t have to put on the black, pencil skirt and white blouse that all the staff had to wear. She needed something striking to be noticed, and as Carol sat at her dressing table she decided that instead of dragging her long, auburn hair into a ponytail, she’d try something more sophisticated. It took a little time, but at last Carol managed to style her hair into a neat French pleat. She then applied make-up, and smiled at her own reflection. Yes, she looked good. Surely the shop fitter would notice her today.

‘Why are you all done up like a dog’s dinner?’ her mother asked as soon as Carol appeared downstairs.

‘I’ve only done my hair in a different style.’

‘It’s more than that. You’ve got far too much make-up on. With all that green eye-shadow and black mascara, you look like a flippin’ clown.’

‘I think it looks nice,’ Carol said, ignoring her mother’s criticism as she poured herself a cup of tea. Sometimes she felt that her mum was jealous of her, and she had never been given the attention or shows of affection that were showered on her brothers.

‘Come on, girl, it’s time you left for work,’ her mum now chided.

Carol glanced at the clock, grabbed a slice of toast, threw on her coat and hurried out, calling, ‘Bye, see you later.’

Amy was just leaving her house too, and Mabel Povis was on her doorstep, cleaning her letterbox. Carol saw the woman looking at her with disapproval, but ignored her as she linked arms with Amy.

‘You look nice,’ Amy said as they walked up the Rise.

‘Thanks,’ Carol said, pleased to hear that after her mother’s carping. She saw that Amy was hardly wearing any make-up, just a touch of mascara and pink lipstick. She still looked nice though, pretty in a wholesome sort of way, with her blonde bubble-cut hair, pink cheeks and clear, blue eyes.

‘I suppose you’re all done up for that shop fitter’s benefit,’ Amy said, grinning.

‘Who else?’ Carol quipped. ‘I just hope it works.’

As they passed Tommy’s house, Amy glanced up at one of the bedroom windows, musing, ‘I wonder how he is today?’

‘How was he last night?’ Carol asked.

For a moment Amy looked surprised at the question, but then she stammered, ‘His … his chest was still bad.’

‘Well then, he’s hardly likely to be much better this morning,’ Carol said, wondering why Amy looked flushed. If Tommy was so ill, they couldn’t have got up to much, but maybe a few kisses had been exchanged. Fancy blushing about that, Carol thought. Now, if they had gone all the way it would be different, but like her, Carol knew that Amy was still a virgin. Moments later they turned onto Lavender Hill, saving on bus fare as usual by walking to Clapham Junction.

When they reached the crossroads Amy was about to turn the corner, as after passing Arding & Hobbs department store they would soon come to the shoe shop, but Carol grabbed her arm, pulling her to the other side of the road, saying, ‘Let’s walk along to the shop that’s being refitted and cross over again in front of it.’

Amy smiled knowingly. ‘I suppose you’re hoping that fitter will see you.’

‘Yes, and I can get a closer look at him.’

Carol wasn’t disappointed. He was there, this time standing outside while rolling a cigarette. She planted a smile on her face and began chatting inanely to Amy about the weather as they drew near.

At last he turned his head, eyes roaming over them and then, best of all, with a cheeky grin, he said, ‘Now there’s a sight to cheer a bloke up in the morning.’

Carol quipped back, ‘Glad to oblige.’

‘Come on, Miss Winters is opening up,’ Amy hissed and after looking both ways, she hurried across the road.

Fuming, Carol did the same, but as she looked back over her shoulder, the shop fitter called, ‘I go to the Nelson Café at around twelve thirty for my lunch. Maybe I’ll see you there.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Carol called back, her heart racing. She didn’t know his name yet, and he looked older than she’d first thought, but he was even better looking close up and nothing was going to keep her from the café at lunchtime.

Mabel Povis put her washing in the bath to soak and then went next door to see Phyllis. She used the back entrance, none of them keeping their gates or back doors locked until they went to bed, and going through the kitchen into her friend’s living room Mabel said without preamble, ‘I think Amy should stay away from Caroline Cole.’

‘Why?’ Phyllis asked from her chair by the fire.

‘Because Carol looks, and acts, like a tart. You should have seen her this morning, all done up with her face plastered with make-up. Her mother is little better, vain and full of herself.’

‘Daphne is all right, and Amy has been friends with Carol since they were kids. She’s a nice girl,’ Phyllis argued.

‘I must admit that Daphne has a lot to put up with,’ Mabel said. ‘You know how thin our walls are, and Frank seems to be a bit insatiable on the you know what side. He’s at Daphne every night, and from what I’ve heard he won’t take no for an answer.’

Phyllis chuckled. ‘Are you sure you’re not jealous?’

‘A bit of slap and tickle every night! No thanks,’ Mabel protested.

‘If I had the energy I wouldn’t mind,’ Phyllis said, running a hand tiredly over her face.

Mabel was used to Phyllis being a bit worn out, after all, she was up at the crack of dawn, but this morning she looked exhausted, her complexion grey. Not only that, it was unusual to see Phyllis just sitting, especially on a Monday morning when nearly every woman in the street tackled their laundry. A little worried Mabel asked, ‘What’s up, love? You look a bit rough.’

‘I’m just tired.’

‘If you ask me, it’s more than that,’ Mabel said. ‘You look ill.’

‘I feel a bit washed-out today, that’s all. I think I need a tonic.’

‘Talking of washing, have you made a start on yours?’

‘Not yet,’ Phyllis admitted.

‘Well you stay there and I’ll make you a cup of tea. Then as my stuff is already in soak, I’ll make a start on yours.’

‘No, I’ll do it,’ Phyllis protested.

‘Don’t be daft, it’s no trouble and if I was under the weather you’d do the same for me.’

‘Yeah, all right, thanks, but there’s Winnie’s stuff to put in soak too.’

‘No problem,’ Mabel said, frowning with concern. The fact that Phyllis had agreed to let her help was worrying and she wondered if taking care of Winnie, along with doing two cleaning jobs, had become a bit too much for her friend . . .

Mabel made the tea, determined to speak her mind as she handed a cup to Phyllis. ‘Now listen, it’s obvious that you’re worn out. Winnie isn’t your responsibility and you shouldn’t have to look after her.’

‘Her son emigrated to Australia and with her daughter living in Devon, she’s too far away. Winnie hasn’t got anyone else.’

‘I’ve offered to help out, but you know that Winnie doesn’t like me and she refused,’ Mabel said. ‘It ain’t fair on you and you should get in touch with her daughter. Tell her that her mother needs to go into a nursing home or something.’

‘Winnie wouldn’t stand for that,’ Phyllis said, shaking her head. ‘She’s lived in that house since she got

married nearly sixty years ago and nothing will make her

leave it.’

‘If you didn’t put yourself out, her daughter would flaming well have to,’ Mabel snapped.

‘They don’t get on and she won’t do anything,’ Phyllis said, her voice weak with tiredness.

‘Right then, have a word with the doctor. See if he can get her some sort of home help, ’cos I’m telling you now, Phyllis, if you don’t, I will,’ Mabel said, concerned for her friend.

‘Yeah, yeah, all right, I’ll try to sort something out. Now for goodness sake change the subject,’ Phyllis appealed.

‘While you’re talking to the doc about Winnie, you should get him to take a look at you.’

‘Mabel, I’ve told you, I’m fine, and thanks for the tea. As for my washing, I feel up to doing it myself now. You can bugger off and let me get on with it.’

Mabel didn’t take offence. She and Phyllis had been friends for years and in reply she said, ‘Right, sod you then. I’m going.’

The two women smiled at each other, both knowing that another cup of tea would be shared later that day. Mabel left by the back door again and closed it behind her, unaware that as soon as Phyllis stood up, she had swayed for a moment before crashing, unconscious, onto the floor.

Carol was clock watching. Luckily her lunch break was always at twelve thirty, and Amy’s at one fifteen, each of them allotted forty-five minutes – which was generous of their manageress, Lena Winters, as some shop assistants only got half an hour.

Miss Winters was in her forties, and though she had crooked teeth, she was quite an attractive woman. Carol often wondered why she had never married, but she

had told them little about herself, only that she lived alone above a shop on Northcote Road. As their manageress, Miss Winters kept herself a little aloof and as questions about her private life weren’t welcomed, they knew little about her.

The shop wasn’t busy; it rarely was on a Monday, and she and Amy had been given the task of checking stocks. Carol was up a ladder in the back room, calling out any sizes that had sold out, but paused to say, ‘Well, what did you think of him?’

‘Carol, that’s the umpteenth time you’ve asked me. As I’ve said before, I think he looks a bit old for you.’

‘I reckon he’s in his late twenties and I don’t see anything wrong with that, after all, I’ll be eighteen next month. Oh, I can’t wait for my lunch break.’

‘You’ve only got ten minutes to go.’

‘Does my hair still look all right?’ Carol asked worriedly.

‘Its fine, now what did you say about size five?’

‘We’re out of the D width.’

‘Amy, we have customers. Can you come out front, please,’ Miss Winters called.

As her friend scuttled off, Carol descended the ladder. She would go to the toilet, touch up her make-up and then it would be time to go. Her tummy was fluttering with nerves as she applied a dab of powder and fresh lipstick. She had only been out with boys of her own age and this time she was feeling out of her depth.

With one last look in the mirror Carol went out to the shop and spoke to Miss Winters. ‘Will it be all right if I go to lunch now?’

‘Yes, off you go,’ the woman agreed.

Amy was on one knee, helping an old lady to try on some shoes, but she looked up and grinned as Carol passed. With a tight smile on her face, Carol left the shop and soon she was hurrying to the Nelson Café which

was a short distance up St John’s Hill. She hoped he was already there as she opened the door and glanced quickly around, relieved to see him sitting alone at a table. He waved a hand at her and as Carol approached, he pulled out a chair.

‘Take a pew,’ he said, smiling.

‘Thanks,’ Carol replied.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come. Do you usually have your lunch in here?’ he asked.

‘No, I don’t, but it looks all right,’ she said, her eyes flicking round the café.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Carol. What’s yours?’

‘Roy,’ he replied and handed Carol the menu as the waitress approached. ‘What are you having to eat?’

Carol took a quick look to find the cheapest thing and ordered an egg and chips, while Roy asked for shepherd’s pie. She usually took a sandwich for lunch to save money, but she’d been up late that morning and a cooked meal would make a nice change.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ the waitress asked.

‘A Pepsi, please,’ Carol said, while Roy ordered a cup of coffee.

‘Do you live around here?’ he asked as the waitress walked away.

‘Yes, at the bottom of Lark Rise, off Lavender Hill. Do you know it?’

‘No, I can’t say I do.’

‘Where do you live then?’ Carol asked, thinking that Roy really was handsome as she took in his hazel eyes.

He looked away for a moment, but then said, ‘In Tooting.’

Carol didn’t know much about that area and found herself floundering for something to say, only coming up with, ‘Do you live with your parents?’

His eyes widened. ‘You must be joking. I flew the nest years ago.’

Carol tensed, and asked, ‘Are you married?’

‘Nah, I’m still foot loose and fancy free. I’ve got my own place though, only a small flat, but it suits me fine.’

‘Really,’ Carol said, impressed. All her previous boyfriends, like her, still lived with their parents. She still didn’t know how old Roy was and felt he might even be in his early thirties, yet she really fancied him. He had a round face, with dark blonde, crew-cut hair. His neck was short over wide shoulders, and she could just imagine his muscular torso; Carol hated long, thin men and saw them as puny. She was snapped out of her reverie when Roy spoke.

‘Now that you’ve had a good look, I hope you like what you see,’ he said, smiling.

Aware then that she had been staring at him, Carol flushed, but she still managed to quip, ‘I was looking through you, not at you.’

‘If you say so, but I’ve been clocking you too and I like what I see. You’re a nice-looking bird, but how old are you?’

‘I’m not sure I like being called a bird, but thanks for the compliment and I’m twenty-three,’ Carol lied, thinking that if he knew she wasn’t yet eighteen there’d be no chance of a date.

Their drinks arrived, followed soon after by their food, and as they ate Carol found that their eyes kept meeting across the table. Would Roy want to take her out? She hoped so, and then at last, between mouthfuls, he asked, ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

‘Not at the moment,’ she replied, wondering if this was the moment.

‘In that case, can I take you out to dinner on Friday?’

Carol was startled. That was different. Most boys just suggested the pictures, or dancing, but then again Roy wasn’t a boy. He was a man. She didn’t want to appear gauche or unsophisticated, so she hid her surprise and said, ‘Yes, that would be lovely.’

‘I’ve got a car so do you want me to pick you up, or would you rather meet somewhere?’ Roy asked.

‘As you don’t know Lark Rise, we could meet outside Arding & Hobbs.’

‘Okay. Shall we say eight o’clock?’

‘That’s fine.’

‘It’s a date then,’ Roy said, grinning.

Carol was already wondering what to wear as they continued to eat, and as soon as they had finished Roy beckoned the waitress over to ask for the bill. ‘Sorry,’ he said when she went to fetch it, ‘I only get a half hour break and I’d best get back. You stay and finish your Pepsi.’

‘Let me give you my share of the bill.’

‘No, have it on me,’ Roy said, and after going to the counter to settle up, he turned to give Carol a wink and then left.

Carol sat back, sipping her drink with a small smile playing round her lips. It was her half day off on Wednesday and she’d look around the shops, sure that she’d be able to get round her dad to give her a few bob towards a new dress. She’d find something really sophisticated that would impress Roy.

For Carol, Friday couldn’t come quickly enough.