but the young madam would have to go. It was always the same with youngsters nowadays: they gave you lip, and she wasn’t putting up with it. Mind you, with only one waitress at the moment she’d have to stay her hand until she found a replacement.
‘Two eggs on toast, and one full breakfast,’ Rita yelled again, the door abruptly swinging shut.
The pace was picking up, costermongers from the market ready for their breakfasts. Two more rashers joined the pan, all Dolly’s concentration now focused on the morning rush.
Bernard Dolby stood behind the counter, a large stainless-steel pot in his hand as he poured tea into thick, white china cups. The antithesis of his wife, Bernard was quite short and thin, except for a slightly protruding beer belly. He had light brown hair that was thinning, and most of the time his grey eyes carried a mild expression.
Rita came running up, looking harassed as she picked up the cups of tea, calling out as she hurried away again, ‘Two slices of bread and butter please, Bernie.’
He turned to the work surface behind him, spreading butter on the bread before cutting the slices into neat triangles. ‘Who are they for, Rita?’
‘Table two.’
‘Morning, Derek,’ Bernie said as he took the plate across the room and placed it beside the man.
Derek Lewis looked up, his pug-nosed face breaking into a grin. ‘Watcha, mate. I won me fight last night.’
Bernie smiled, wondering what the other amateur boxer looked like. One of Derek’s pale blue eyes was swollen, the start of a nice black eye visible. ‘How many rounds did you go?’
‘Only six, then I knocked him out just before the bell.’
‘Well done,’ Bernie said, but seeing two customers waiting to pay for their meals, he went back to his post.
‘Right,’ he said, taking the first slip, ‘that’ll be one and six, please.’
Bernie picked up the two shillings proffered. ‘There you are, a tanner change. Dolly’s doing her steak-and-kidney pie for lunch.’
The man licked his lips. ‘That’ll do us. Save a couple of slices, Bernie.’
‘Will do.’ And taking the other man’s slip he added, ‘Egg and Bacon, plus bread and tea – that’ll be a shilling.’
The two young men left and, as the café filled with more customers, Bernie refilled the large teapot, ready for the rush.
It was nine thirty before Bernie drew breath, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as the last customer paid his bill.
‘Rita, when you’ve finished clearing the tables, you can have your break.’
‘I’m dying for a fag. Can’t I have a breather now?’
‘If my wife comes out of the kitchen and sees the state of the place, she’ll have your guts for garters.’
‘It ain’t my fault. It’s impossible to do double my tables and clear them at the same time.’
Bernie exhaled loudly. He sympathised with the girl, but knew what Dolly would say if she saw the mess. He came out from behind the counter, saying with a placatory note in his voice, ‘Come on, if I give you a hand they’ll be cleared in no time.’
The girl heaved a sigh, but began stacking the plates on table two as Bernie started on the next one.
Dolly stuck her head out of the kitchen door. ‘Rita, get me a cup of tea.’
‘I’m busy,’ she replied shortly.
Bernie held his breath, but knew what was coming as his wife marched into the room.
‘What did you say?’
‘You heard me. I’ve been rushed off my feet since six thirty this morning. These tables need clearing and I ain’t had a break yet. If you want a cup of tea, I don’t see why you can’t get it for yourself.’
Dolly’s face suffused with colour as she glared at the girl. ‘You, miss, are on a week’s notice.’
‘Huh, is that a fact? Well, sod your week’s notice. I’m going now and you can stick your bleedin’ job.’
Dolly’s jaw dropped as Rita ripped off her apron, threw it on a table and then marched out of the café, only to reappear moments later to grab her handbag from under the counter. Briefly she glowered at them both, but then as a parting shot, before slamming the door behind her, she spat, ‘Do you know something, Dolly Dolby? You’re a miserable old cow and I ain’t surprised you can’t keep a waitress for more than five minutes.’
For a moment there was a shocked silence, but then Bernie sighed heavily, turning to his wife. ‘Now you’ve gone and done it. How are we supposed to manage the lunches?’
‘I’ll get Kevin down here to do the counter. You’ll have to do the serving.’
Bernie, knowing what a lazy young bugger their son was, said with a doubtful shake of his head, ‘I don’t think he’ll take kindly to that. And anyway, he’s probably still in bed.’
The bell pinged and both glanced towards the door again as a young woman came in, her head low as she looked at them shyly from under her lashes. She was a small, mousy-looking creature, wearing a shapeless, grey cotton dress that hung on her tiny frame. Straight, light brown hair sat on her shoulders, parted at the side and fastened with a slide.
For a moment they gazed at her. Then, gathering his thoughts, Bernard asked, ‘What can I get you, love?’
‘I … I saw the notice in the window for a waitress.’
‘Oh, right, then you’d best speak to my wife.’
Dolly took in a great gulp of air, her eyes momentarily looking heavenward before she spoke. ‘I’ve just lost a waitress so your timing is perfect. Sit down,’ she offered, her voice unusually soft.
Bernie listened as his wife began to question the girl. She had arrived at an opportune moment, but she looked so slight that a puff of wind could blow her over.
‘Right, what’s your name?’
‘Pearl Button.’
‘Blimey, your parents must have a sense of humour.’
The girl’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. ‘I … I’m an orphan. When I was left on the orphanage steps, they found a tiny button clutched in my hand. That’s how I got the name.’
‘Gawd, if it wasn’t so tragic, it’d be funny. Anyway, how old are you?’
‘I’m sixteen, but I’ll be seventeen in October.’
‘Speak up, girl, I can hardly hear you. How old did you say you are?’
‘I said I’m sixteen.’
‘Christ, you’re just a kid. Have you been a
