Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle. Leah Fleming

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       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.’