Lost & Found. Kitty Neale

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      Lily shook her head in disgust. As always, the burden of looking after Mavis fell to her. She had to feed their daughter, clothe her, and as Ron was hardly in he took little interest in Mavis. When he had rolled home on Friday night, she had waited until he was asleep to search his pockets, hoping against hope that he hadn’t blown the lot. All she’d found was a crumpled ten-bob note along with a few coppers and, knowing her stock was low, she’d felt like braining him. She was sick of flogging other people’s junk to make a few bob, the old clothes being the worst. She had to wash and iron the stuff, tarting it up as best she could to sell down at the local market. Most weeks it made her enough to scrape by, but when it didn’t, Lily thanked her lucky stars for her old mum. It wasn’t right that she had to go to her for the occasional hand-out, but with Ron losing more than he ever won, sometimes she had no choice.

      Lily took a last gulp of tea then stoically rose to her feet. What was the matter with her? She didn’t have time to sit here. She had the last pile of junk to sort out, though it wasn’t up to much and hardly worth the bother. She just hoped that Mavis could cadge some decent stuff this time—and that she didn’t break it before fetching it home.

      Ron stared at the foreman, his fists clenched in anger.

      ‘Did you hear what I said, Jackson?’

      ‘Yeah, I heard you.’

      ‘Right then. Get a move on.’

      ‘It ain’t my job to dig out footings. I’m a hod carrier, not a labourer,’ Ron snapped.

      ‘Your brickie hasn’t turned up, and I’m not having you standing around doing nothing. Now do as I say and get to work.’

      Ron hated the way the foreman threw his weight around and he’d had enough. His voice a snarl he said, ‘Fuck off!’

      ‘You’re finished, Jackson. I want you off the site. Now!’

      Ron raised his fist, ready to smash it into the foreman’s face, but then felt a staying hand on his arm. Pete Culling had turned up, the almost bald bricklayer urging, ‘Leave it, Ron. He ain’t worth it. Come on, let’s go.’

      His head snapped around. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

      ‘I’ll tell you later. Now, are you coming?’

      ‘Not until I’ve flattened this little weasel,’ Ron spat, but found as he turned his attention to the foreman that the man had already moved several feet away.

      Pete laughed, flashing his perfectly white teeth, but even these didn’t save his acne-scarred face. He looked like a boxer, one whose nose had been flattened from too many punches as he said, ‘Look at him. He’s shit scared and ready to do a runner. Don’t waste your energy, mate, and anyway, sod this job. I’ve got something better lined up: a nice little earner.’

      Ron felt his anger draining away, but scowled at the foreman, unwilling to leave without a parting shot. ‘I ain’t finished with you yet, so watch your back. As for this job, you can stick it where the sun don’t shine.’

      The two men walked off the site, laughing, until Ron said to Pete, ‘So, what’s this nice little earner?’

      ‘I heard about a bloke looking for teams and willing to pay top money. I went to meet up with him before I came on site this morning. He wants us now so we’ll be stepping straight into another job.’

      ‘So that’s why you were late.’

      ‘Yeah, but I didn’t expect to hear you getting your marching orders when I showed up.’

      ‘You didn’t have to leave. It was me who got the sack, not you,’ Ron protested.

      ‘Leave it out, mate—we’re a team. Anyway, with the money we’ll be earning, I was going to tell him to stick the job anyway. Let’s go to the café and I’ll fill you in. Not only that, I’m starving and could do with a decent breakfast.’

      ‘All right, but no breakfast for me. Mind you, I won’t say no to a cup of char.’

      ‘Don’t tell me you’re skint again.’

      ‘Of course I ain’t,’ Ron lied, ‘it’s just that Lily made me a few sarnies for lunch and I ate them while waiting for you to turn up.’

      ‘Don’t give me that. I wasn’t that late.’

      Ron knew he hadn’t fooled Pete. They knew each other too well and had worked together since getting demobbed. It hadn’t been easy at first, coming back from the war to find half of London flattened and jobs scarce. Things had gradually improved and when at last rebuilding got underway there was a demand for bricklaying teams. Nowadays they were never out of work and it looked like Pete had come up trumps again. He grinned ruefully, ‘All right, I’m skint.’

      ‘What was it? The dogs again?’

      ‘Yeah, but I was doing all right. I picked a couple of winners, and then got the whisper of a sure thing. I stuck the lot on Ascot Boy and he was leading the pack, but then swung wide, fell, and took another couple of dogs with him. Paul’s Fun got through the gap to win by three-quarters of a length.’

      ‘So you blew your wages again?’

      ‘I had a few bob left, but after drowning me sorrows in the Queen’s Head, I reckon Lily must have cleaned out me pockets when I rolled home.’

      ‘Serves you right, Ron. I’ve said it before, gambling’s a mug’s game. I don’t know what’s the matter with you. You’re good looking with a gorgeous wife and kid, yet despite Lily’s threats to leave you you’d rather spend your time down the dogs or in the pub.’

      ‘Look, I’ve had nothing but ear bashings from Lily all weekend and don’t need another one from you. I know I’ve got to knock the gambling on the head, and I will.’

      ‘If you really mean it this time, I’ve got the answer,’ Pete said as they walked into the café and up to the counter.

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

      ‘Watcha, Alfie. Two cups of tea please, followed by an egg and sausage with fried bread. Twice please,’ Pete said, leaving Ron’s question unanswered.

      ‘Just a tea for me.’

      ‘Ignore him, Alfie,’ Pete said, and then, taking the mugs of tea, he walked over to a vacant table.

      ‘What did you do that for? I told you I didn’t want anything to eat,’ Ron said as he sat down opposite.

      ‘It’s my treat, and, anyway, after hearing what I’ve got to say you’ll need a full stomach when you tell Lily.’

      ‘Tell her what?’

      Pete took a gulp of tea, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then said, ‘The new job’s out of London.’

      ‘Oh, yeah. How far?’

      ‘About thirty miles.’

      ‘What! Leave it out, Pete. That’s too far to travel.’

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