pot?’
Tibs looked at her levelly. ‘There won’t be. And if you don’t give us that milk a bit lively I’m gonna turn you upside down and shake that money back out of that chicken neck o’ your’n, then give it a quick wring for good luck into the bargain.’
With a bad-tempered snarl, the woman glooped the thick milk into the cups, spat a muttered curse into Kitty’s startled face and disappeared back into the cheerless depths of the big, flag-stoned room.
‘Silly old tart,’ Tibs hissed, stirring the tea with the handle of a food-encrusted knife then, pouring the steaming, dark-tan liquid on to the dollops of milk, she pushed a cup towards Kitty.
‘Tibs,’ Kit said as calmly as she could, ‘would you please tell me what you told this man we’d do?’
‘An act,’ she answered matter-of-factly. ‘Singing and that.’
Kitty wouldn’t have been more horrified if Tibs had announced that she’d got them work digging a new canal and filling it up with buckets from the stand-pipe. ‘Singing?’ she gasped.
Tibs slurped noisily at her tea. ‘Yeah. Good, eh?’
‘Good?’ Kitty supposed it was one up from what she had thought the man had proposed to Tibs. But
singing
? Maybe she was going mad. Why should that surprise her; the rest of the world certainly seemed to be well on its way along the path to lunacy.
She thought for a moment, trying to get things straight in her swirling brain, then said bluntly, ‘No. Not singing.’
‘Look, Kit, he’s offering us a chance.’
‘No. I mean it. I really can’t. The only singing I’ve ever done in my life was hymns, and since I left the home I’ve not been inside a church, apart from once or twice when they let me have an hour off of a Sunday when I was at the big house.’ A horrible thought occurred to her. ‘Where would we be expected to do this singing? And who’d be
listening
?’
‘In the Dog. And he only gets a few customers.’ Tibs flashed her eyebrows and grinned wickedly. ‘Anyway, you’ve heard the row I make, it obviously ain’t our voices he’s interested in. And he took a right shine to you, you know, Kit. Thought you was a real cracker.’
Tibs could only hope she sounded credible. The bloke had been plastered, hadn’t even been too sure who he was talking to, let alone whether he fancied either of them or not. Typical pub owner. So much money sloshing about in his pockets that he could afford to pour half his profits down his throat, just ’cos he felt like it. Probably didn’t have a worry in the world. It’d do thelikes of him a bit of good to find out how it was to have a problem or two. Problems like she had.
‘You’re saying he thought I was …’ Kitty looked and sounded flustered. Men had tried things of course, but no one had ever told her she was desirable, not even
him
at the big house, even though she had said to Tibs that he’d told her he loved her. It was a strange sort of feeling and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not. ‘Don’t you mean he thought
you
were …’
‘No. You.’ Tibs winked suggestively. ‘And if he could see you now he’d be even more impressed. I mean, look how nice you’ve cleaned up.’ Tibs’s smile was becoming thinner by the moment, this was getting a bit too much like hard work. ‘And I bet if you washed that hair of your’n it’d be lovely. Real pretty. Although,’ she added, ‘you’re good-looking in a different kind of a way to me, of course.’ She didn’t want to strong it too much or Kit would know she was lying and it might frighten her off. ‘But men ain’t all got the same sort of taste you know.’
‘Thank Gawd for that,’ sniggered a fat, middle-aged woman who was boiling up something in a pan over the fire next to them. Whatever she had in the pot was giving off a terrible stink like old socks crossed with a tinge of rotten haddock.
Tibs nodded curtly at her and guided Kitty firmly across the room, away from the stench and out of the
Tibs looked at her levelly. ‘There won’t be. And if you don’t give us that milk a bit lively I’m gonna turn you upside down and shake that money back out of that chicken neck o’ your’n, then give it a quick wring for good luck into the bargain.’
With a bad-tempered snarl, the woman glooped the thick milk into the cups, spat a muttered curse into Kitty’s startled face and disappeared back into the cheerless depths of the big, flag-stoned room.
‘Silly old tart,’ Tibs hissed, stirring the tea with the handle of a food-encrusted knife then, pouring the steaming, dark-tan liquid on to the dollops of milk, she pushed a cup towards Kitty.
‘Tibs,’ Kit said as calmly as she could, ‘would you please tell me what you told this man we’d do?’
‘An act,’ she answered matter-of-factly. ‘Singing and that.’
Kitty wouldn’t have been more horrified if Tibs had announced that she’d got them work digging a new canal and filling it up with buckets from the stand-pipe. ‘Singing?’ she gasped.
Tibs slurped noisily at her tea. ‘Yeah. Good, eh?’
‘Good?’ Kitty supposed it was one up from what she had thought the man had proposed to Tibs. But
singing
? Maybe she was going mad. Why should that surprise her; the rest of the world certainly seemed to be well on its way along the path to lunacy.
She thought for a moment, trying to get things straight in her swirling brain, then said bluntly, ‘No. Not singing.’
‘Look, Kit, he’s offering us a chance.’
‘No. I mean it. I really can’t. The only singing I’ve ever done in my life was hymns, and since I left the home I’ve not been inside a church, apart from once or twice when they let me have an hour off of a Sunday when I was at the big house.’ A horrible thought occurred to her. ‘Where would we be expected to do this singing? And who’d be
listening
?’
‘In the Dog. And he only gets a few customers.’ Tibs flashed her eyebrows and grinned wickedly. ‘Anyway, you’ve heard the row I make, it obviously ain’t our voices he’s interested in. And he took a right shine to you, you know, Kit. Thought you was a real cracker.’
Tibs could only hope she sounded credible. The bloke had been plastered, hadn’t even been too sure who he was talking to, let alone whether he fancied either of them or not. Typical pub owner. So much money sloshing about in his pockets that he could afford to pour half his profits down his throat, just ’cos he felt like it. Probably didn’t have a worry in the world. It’d do thelikes of him a bit of good to find out how it was to have a problem or two. Problems like she had.
‘You’re saying he thought I was …’ Kitty looked and sounded flustered. Men had tried things of course, but no one had ever told her she was desirable, not even
him
at the big house, even though she had said to Tibs that he’d told her he loved her. It was a strange sort of feeling and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not. ‘Don’t you mean he thought
you
were …’
‘No. You.’ Tibs winked suggestively. ‘And if he could see you now he’d be even more impressed. I mean, look how nice you’ve cleaned up.’ Tibs’s smile was becoming thinner by the moment, this was getting a bit too much like hard work. ‘And I bet if you washed that hair of your’n it’d be lovely. Real pretty. Although,’ she added, ‘you’re good-looking in a different kind of a way to me, of course.’ She didn’t want to strong it too much or Kit would know she was lying and it might frighten her off. ‘But men ain’t all got the same sort of taste you know.’
‘Thank Gawd for that,’ sniggered a fat, middle-aged woman who was boiling up something in a pan over the fire next to them. Whatever she had in the pot was giving off a terrible stink like old socks crossed with a tinge of rotten haddock.
Tibs nodded curtly at her and guided Kitty firmly across the room, away from the stench and out of the
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