A Place Called Home by Dilly Court Page B

friend.’
    Pearl flicked ash into the empty grate. ‘Do you know what a fence is? And I don’t mean the wooden kind.’
    â€˜I ain’t stupid,’ Lucy said, forgetting Miss Wantage’s rigorous attempts to correct her grammar. ‘It’s a person who deals in stolen goods.’
    â€˜Exactly. That’s what Abe does, and more besides. If Eva’s gone to live with him you’d be better off going back to the toff’s house.’
    Lucy responded to a nudge from the dog’s nose, and automatically patted his head. ‘I said I ain’t going back there and that’s the end of it. Tell me where to find this chap.’
    Pearl took a last drag on her cigarette and stubbed it out, adding to the pile of dog-ends in the ashtray. ‘Tell you what, nipper. I ain’t sending you into that den of thieves. You’d best stay here and let me go. If Eva’s there I’ll pass on the message and see what she says, although I can guess what it will be.’
    â€˜I want to be with her,’ Lucy said stubbornly.
    â€˜I know, love. I understand, but your gran will do what’s best for you.’ Pearl reached for a stocking which was dangling precariously from the mantelshelf and pulled it on. Its twin was discovered on the far side of the bed, as was her petticoat and crumpled cotton gown. ‘Tighten me laces, will you, love?’ she said after a struggle with the strings of her stays. ‘I ain’t as slender as I was in the old days. It takes longer and longer to squeeze me into me frocks.’
    Lucy tugged and pulled while Pearl held her breath and sucked in her tummy, and eventually, due to their combined efforts, they managed to get her waist down to the required size. ‘I dunno,’ Pearl said, gazing critically at her reflection in a mirror propped up on the chest of drawers. ‘I don’t have all this trouble first thing when I get dressed, and it ain’t that I scoff lots of grub. It must be the beer I drink in the pub with Carlos what does it.’ She tidied her hair and reached for a perky little straw hat trimmed with faded pink roses, which she secured with a vicious-looking hat pin. ‘There, not bad, even if I say so meself.’
    â€˜You look splendid, Pearl,’ Lucy said tactfully. She did not like to mention that Pearl’s garments were grubby and smelled strongly of stale fish and tobacco smoke.
    â€˜Ta, love.’ Pearl dropped a kiss on top of Lucy’s head as she walked past. ‘Stay here and lock the door. Don’t let the wicked witch Wicks in, even if she threatens you with the law. That one wouldn’t dare call a copper, so take no notice of her. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
    With Pearl gone Lucy found herself with nothing to occupy her time. She locked the door, and stood looking round at the scene of utter chaos. After a moment’s thought she decided that the least she could do in return for Pearl’s kindness was to tidy the room. She opened the window to let out the smoke, but the stench from the outside privy and the foul smell of the riverbank at low tide made her change her mind, and she closed it again. It was hot and stuffy, but she worked diligently. Living with Granny had taught her to keep house in the most insalubrious places, and she soon had everything under control. Pearl’s clothes, abandoned in heaps as if she had tossed them over her shoulder not caring where they landed, were folded neatly and put away. She emptied the ashtray onto a sheet of newspaper and bundled it up with the rest of the rubbish, placing it by the door ready to be disposed of later. Having done all she could, she lay down on the bed and curled up with the dog at her side.
    She was awakened by the sound of Pearl’s voice demanding to be let in, and she tumbled off the bed, still half asleep. It was dusk and the room was filled with shadows. ‘Where’ve you been?’