twice. He had the pick of the girls and she could never compete.
Derek was looking out for Pearl and at three forty-five he saw her meandering down the market. Fingers crossed, he went to the front of his stall, smiling when she drew near.
‘Hello, love. Off home, are you?’
‘Yes, I’ve finished my shift.’
‘Er … Pearl. I … I was wondering if you fancy going to the pictures one night?’
Her huge eyes rose to meet his and he gulped. Christ, she was such a lovely little thing. She looked so innocent, so frail, and he held his breath for her answer.
‘The pictures? Well, yes, I suppose so.’
‘That’s great. How about tonight?’
‘Yes, all right. Can we go to the Granada? There’s a Marlene Dietrich film on that I’d love to see.’
‘Fine with me. How about I pick you up at seven?’
‘Yes, do that.’ And smiling shyly, Pearl walked away.
Bloody hell, he’d done it! With a little skip, Derek was grinning as he returned to the back of his stall, and was busy for the rest of the afternoon.
As Derek walked in the door that evening, Connie Lewis assessed him shrewdly. ‘What are you looking so happy about?’
‘I’ve got a date, Gran.’
‘Have you now? And who with? I hope she’s a nice girl and not one of these painted tarts you see nowadays. Does she live around here?’
‘Now then, Gran, I’m twenty-six, not sixteen, and don’t need an inquisition. But yes, she’s a nice girl and I think you’d like her. Now, I’m off upstairs to have a bath.’
Connie frowned as her grandson left the room. Derek wasn’t one for the girls so she was surprised to hear he had a date. She was under no illusions. Derek couldn’t be described as handsome. He’d been a plain little boy when he’d come to live with her, and was plain now, but of course boxing hadn’t helped.
Yet he was a lovely lad, kind and caring, in fact, sometimes too caring. She smiled, remembering all the lost and wounded animals he’d brought home over the years, from wild birds to cats. In fact they still had one of the cats now, a fat and lazy creature that spent all day asleep on a chair.
As if knowing she was thinking about him, Marmalade opened one eye, yawned and stretched, rousing himself enough to settle in another position before closing his eye again. Connie smiled. Yes, Marmalade was a good name for the ginger cat, and she was quite fond of the old thing really.
She rose to her feet, walking across the kitchen to feed cabbage into the pan of boiling water on the stove. Unbidden, Connie found herself thinking about her daughter, an expression of sadness crossing her face. Mary had got herself pregnant and had never revealed the name of Derek’s father, but she didn’t deserve to die that way – trapped under the rubble of a pub when it had been bombed during the war.
‘What’s for dinner, Gran?’ Derek asked as he returned downstairs, towelling his hair dry.
‘Stewed steak.’
‘Smashing.’
‘Where are you taking this girl tonight?’
‘We’re going to the flicks.’
‘Well, just make sure you behave yourself!’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, sorry, love. Take no notice of me. I know you’ll be a perfect gentleman.’
‘What’s up, Gran? You not only sound snappy, you look a bit down too.’
‘I was just thinking about your mother. It’s her birthday tomorrow.’
‘We’ll take some flowers up to the cemetery as usual.’
‘She seems to fill my mind more than ever around this time. I don’t know why. It’s almost as though she draws close to me on her birthday. I know she wasn’t much of a mother to you, but I’ll never forgive myself for the way I treated her.’
‘Gran, it was a long time ago and about time you forgave yourself. And, well, to be honest, I can hardly remember her now.’
Connie checked the vegetables and, seeing they were ready, she drained them before dishing up their dinner. As she placed the plates on the table and sat opposite Derek,
Derek was looking out for Pearl and at three forty-five he saw her meandering down the market. Fingers crossed, he went to the front of his stall, smiling when she drew near.
‘Hello, love. Off home, are you?’
‘Yes, I’ve finished my shift.’
‘Er … Pearl. I … I was wondering if you fancy going to the pictures one night?’
Her huge eyes rose to meet his and he gulped. Christ, she was such a lovely little thing. She looked so innocent, so frail, and he held his breath for her answer.
‘The pictures? Well, yes, I suppose so.’
‘That’s great. How about tonight?’
‘Yes, all right. Can we go to the Granada? There’s a Marlene Dietrich film on that I’d love to see.’
‘Fine with me. How about I pick you up at seven?’
‘Yes, do that.’ And smiling shyly, Pearl walked away.
Bloody hell, he’d done it! With a little skip, Derek was grinning as he returned to the back of his stall, and was busy for the rest of the afternoon.
As Derek walked in the door that evening, Connie Lewis assessed him shrewdly. ‘What are you looking so happy about?’
‘I’ve got a date, Gran.’
‘Have you now? And who with? I hope she’s a nice girl and not one of these painted tarts you see nowadays. Does she live around here?’
‘Now then, Gran, I’m twenty-six, not sixteen, and don’t need an inquisition. But yes, she’s a nice girl and I think you’d like her. Now, I’m off upstairs to have a bath.’
Connie frowned as her grandson left the room. Derek wasn’t one for the girls so she was surprised to hear he had a date. She was under no illusions. Derek couldn’t be described as handsome. He’d been a plain little boy when he’d come to live with her, and was plain now, but of course boxing hadn’t helped.
Yet he was a lovely lad, kind and caring, in fact, sometimes too caring. She smiled, remembering all the lost and wounded animals he’d brought home over the years, from wild birds to cats. In fact they still had one of the cats now, a fat and lazy creature that spent all day asleep on a chair.
As if knowing she was thinking about him, Marmalade opened one eye, yawned and stretched, rousing himself enough to settle in another position before closing his eye again. Connie smiled. Yes, Marmalade was a good name for the ginger cat, and she was quite fond of the old thing really.
She rose to her feet, walking across the kitchen to feed cabbage into the pan of boiling water on the stove. Unbidden, Connie found herself thinking about her daughter, an expression of sadness crossing her face. Mary had got herself pregnant and had never revealed the name of Derek’s father, but she didn’t deserve to die that way – trapped under the rubble of a pub when it had been bombed during the war.
‘What’s for dinner, Gran?’ Derek asked as he returned downstairs, towelling his hair dry.
‘Stewed steak.’
‘Smashing.’
‘Where are you taking this girl tonight?’
‘We’re going to the flicks.’
‘Well, just make sure you behave yourself!’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, sorry, love. Take no notice of me. I know you’ll be a perfect gentleman.’
‘What’s up, Gran? You not only sound snappy, you look a bit down too.’
‘I was just thinking about your mother. It’s her birthday tomorrow.’
‘We’ll take some flowers up to the cemetery as usual.’
‘She seems to fill my mind more than ever around this time. I don’t know why. It’s almost as though she draws close to me on her birthday. I know she wasn’t much of a mother to you, but I’ll never forgive myself for the way I treated her.’
‘Gran, it was a long time ago and about time you forgave yourself. And, well, to be honest, I can hardly remember her now.’
Connie checked the vegetables and, seeing they were ready, she drained them before dishing up their dinner. As she placed the plates on the table and sat opposite Derek,
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