A Promise Between Friends (2 page)

She and Pete had been billeted at a vicarage. Bernie and Kath, a farm. Five years away from the Smoke and Pete and Bernie became a force to be reckoned with. They’d hated the village
school. And the school hated them. No one had championed the lice-ridden cockney mongrels, with mouths as foul as drains. She still cringed at the old saying, ‘Cleanliness is next to
godliness.’ It reminded her of delousing baths, forced prayers and endless Bible readings!

A whiff of Bernie’s hairdressing snapped Ruby back to the present. ‘Fancy a drink on the way home?’ Bernie suggested breezily. ‘If we leave early enough we can nip in the
Bricklayer’s.’

‘Don’t think so,’ Ruby declined. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘Blimey, you are a right madam tonight.’

‘And you’re like a bloody octopus.’

‘Thanks. Dunno why I bother.’

‘Nor do I!’

But it didn’t take long before he took to fooling around again and this time she pushed him hard. Much harder than she intended. With a look of astonishment on his face, Bernie went
sprawling.

‘You silly mare!’ he exclaimed as, almost tripping over, he was made to look a fool in front of the brunette. ‘What did you do that for?’

As she stood there trying to smother her amusement, she became aware of a man pushing his way through the crowd towards them. ‘Now you’ve gone and done it,’ she hissed, trying
to warn Bernie. ‘Look! They’re sending management over.’

‘It wasn’t me that did the pushing,’ Bernie argued, pulling his jacket firmly back on his shoulders. ‘It was you.’

For a guilty moment they stared at the stranger who said nothing, but locked disapproving eyes with Bernie.

An older guy, in his mid-thirties, Ruby guessed. A few inches shorter than Bernie. He was broad and upright, with short brown hair styled carefully away from his face. Square jaw, unflinching
brown eyes and wearing a dark, tailored suit and black roll-neck sweater to die for.

‘Who are you staring at, mush?’ Bernie demanded, his temper now short.

‘Ease up on the lady, pal.’

‘What?’ Bernie’s tone was incredulous.

‘You heard.’

‘Who the hell are you?’ Bernie demanded, poking a finger in the air.

‘Just offering some friendly advice.’

Bernie laughed. ‘Well, in that case, you know where you can stuff it.’

Ruby hadn’t ever seen Bernie so angry. If this got out of hand, there would be a price to pay. Namely them all getting banned from Fortuno’s. And no way was she having that.

‘Come on, Bernie, let’s go,’ she pleaded.

‘This geezer doesn’t work here,’ Bernie decided loudly. ‘What right has he got to stick his nose in our business?’

Shaking her head, Ruby swallowed. ‘Bernie, give over. We don’t want any trouble.’

The man inclined his head and smiled at her.

Ruby was transfixed; she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his intense gaze. But she knew she had to do something to defuse the situation as Bernie puffed out his chest aggressively.

‘Bernie, forget it. We can go to the Bricklayer’s if you want,’ she cajoled, pulling hard on his arm and managing to move him a few feet. ‘Wait for me by the coffee bar.
I’ll meet you and Kath after I’ve powdered my nose.’

Ruby took a chance and left, hurriedly pushing a path towards the foyer. Glancing over her shoulder, she was relieved to see Bernie slinking off towards Kath who was sitting on a tall stool at
the coffee bar.

She had almost arrived at the Ladies, when a hand came down on her shoulder. She turned, heart in mouth.

‘The name’s Nick Brandon,’ the stranger said softly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to butt in back there.’

Ruby’s jaw dropped. ‘Who are you?’

‘Just an interested party,’ he said, lifting an eyebrow. ‘I thought that guy was pestering you.’

‘What’s it got to do with you if he was?’ Ruby spluttered defensively. ‘And anyway, he’s a friend.’

‘Then I guess you’re in need of better friends,’ he responded with a slight smile. ‘You’re a beautiful, classy girl. You could make something of yourself, do you
know that? Don’t waste your time in places like this.’ His words were like a caress. Staring into his eyes she felt her body responding, trapped by some mysterious force connecting
them. He said she was beautiful and classy. When had anyone ever told her that?

‘Perhaps I can help you,’ he said without hesitation. ‘Take my card. Ring me tomorrow. Okay?’

Ruby looked down at the card he had pushed into her hand.
NICK BRANDON
was printed in large, bold capitals. Underneath was a telephone number.

When she looked up again, he was gone.

It was Monday morning and the least favourite day of Ruby’s week. She was almost broke, too. Her 25s wage barely covered necessities. After paying her share of the rent,
food and bills there wasn’t much left over. Yet Kath was always going on about how lucky they were to rent such a cheap room from Bernie who had sub-let it from the landlord.

Cheap, yes, decent, no, Ruby thought dismally. One shabby bedsit in Poplar, fitted with a single bed and bed-settee, wasn’t the luxury she craved. She tried to save on the bus fares by
walking to work each day. But Larry’s Poodle Parlour was at least thirty minutes up the Commercial Road and Ruby liked her beauty sleep. It was always a struggle to arrive by eight.

Still, she’d had an amazing Saturday night. As she paused her scissors over the poodle’s floppy white fringe, she was back again at Fortuno’s. Nick Brandon’s card was in
her hand. He had invited her to call him. My God, had it really happened?

Well, yes! Because Bernie had gone on about him all the way home. Was she sure she didn’t know him? Why had he approached her and not some other chick? Finally Kath had told her brother to
put a sock in it.

Ruby had examined the card at least a hundred times. A name and telephone number, that was all. Did she have the courage to phone? Would Nick Brandon even answer? And what would she say if he
did?

‘You going to trim that dog or eat it?’

Ruby jumped, realizing her friend Debbie Wilson, the poodle parlour’s only other employee, was addressing her.

Ruby looked down at the poodle. Its frightened eyes were popping out of its sockets. ‘I was miles away,’ she said vaguely, nipping carefully at the fringe and scattering a shower of
pure white fluff across the floor. ‘I can’t seem to get going this morning. Even though I slept most of yesterday.’

‘What!’ Debbie exclaimed. ‘My mum would have a fit if I wasn’t up to help her cook Sunday dinner. Rog gets me in at a decent hour, though. What time did you stumble
in?’

‘We went dancing then had a drink,’ Ruby admitted cautiously, well aware of Debbie’s disapproval.

‘Don’t know what you see in Fortuno’s,’ Debbie countered. ‘It’s a dive.’

‘Yes, but I like it.’

‘I suppose you went with Kath and that idiot brother of hers?’ Debbie said accusingly as she dusted down her clean white overall. ‘You could do so much better.’

Ruby thought it best to ignore this. Debbie could be really bitchy at times. She turned the poodle’s head, attempting to complete the pom-pom trim. ‘Stay still, Delilah. I
don’t want to graze you.’ She shook the talcum powder over the curly white fur. ‘There, now, you’ll smell nice for your owner.’

‘So it’s a given you didn’t meet anyone?’ Debbie said, resuming their conversation.

Ruby thought it safer not to mention her encounter with the mystery man. Not yet. After all, Saturday might turn out to be just a sweet memory.

‘As I said,’ Debbie harked on, ‘Kath Rigler won’t win you any friends, nor her brother.’

Debbie had only met Kath and Bernie a few times but had taken an instant dislike. Ruby knew Debbie and her boyfriend moved in what they thought were classier circles. And perhaps that was true
in a way. Debbie came from a good family, a dad with a nine-to-five job, a mum who only had to look after Debbie and her two younger twin brothers. The Wilsons had lived all their lives over
Victoria Park way in a nice house. A world away from the slums that she and Pete and the Riglers had grown up in.

Ruby distractedly brushed the dog hair from her overall. If only Kath were to find herself a boyfriend. She could be pretty if she did something with her lank black hair and beanpole figure. But
Kath was nervous of men. With a father like Alf Rigler, no wonder! A violent drunk, he had knocked seven bells out of his two kids and timid wife. And God knew what else, Ruby reflected, that poor
Kath was too ashamed to disclose.

If only Kath could make new friends, Ruby thought wistfully. After twelve months of their living together like sardines in a can, Ruby had come to the conclusion they both needed to get out and
about more.

Suddenly there was a yelp and Ruby stared down at the trembling poodle. A red patch of blood had formed in the dog’s white fur.

‘You cut too close,’ Debbie accused as the little dog leaped from Ruby’s arms. ‘Mrs Freeman will kill you!’

Heart in mouth, Ruby gave chase. How had she managed to injure it so badly? At the desk, movement came from a muddle of woolly blankets on the floor. Just as she was about to investigate, a
black car pulled up outside the parlour. It was a flash, foreign-looking motor, but Ruby couldn’t see who was driving. Was it Laurence Dickens, the parlour’s owner? Perhaps he had
bought himself a new car.

‘Perfect time to show up, Larry,’ she muttered, wondering why he’d called at this time of day. He never usually collected the takings till six.

Then, to her relief, the car moved off again.

Ruby looked down for the poodle, but the little dog was gone.

‘I’ve got her,’ she heard Debbie wailing. ‘Come and see.’

Ruby hurried out to the back. Debbie was holding the poodle against her chest.

‘How bad is she hurt?’ Ruby dared not look.

Debbie threw back her head and hooted. ‘It’s make-up, not blood! You must have spilled rouge on her. You was half asleep this morning when you did your face in the mirror.’

Ruby sighed with relief. ‘Thank goodness. I had visions of old Mrs Freeman chewing my ear off.’

‘She would have, an’ all,’ Debbie agreed, hurriedly checking the time by the clock on the wall. ‘Look, we’d better get cracking. If you want to clear the mess in
here, I’ll take Delilah outside and hose her. She’ll soon dry in the sun.’

Ruby nodded gratefully. ‘Thanks, Debs.’

Ruby began to clean up, wondering if the parlour would ever make it big and fulfil Larry’s dreams of matching the successes of the West End dog boutiques. When they first opened in the
Commercial Road a year ago, Larry had promised they’d soon pull in the rich owners and make them a small fortune as it didn’t take much nous to trim the hair from a dog. But so far, his
prediction had fallen short of its mark.

Not that Ruby really minded. Laurence Dickens was a great boss. He’d chosen her from a long list of hopefuls. The wage was disappointing, but he let her and Debbie run the parlour as they
liked. He was all right, was Larry. As employers went, he was one in a million.

Glancing out of the parlour’s window she saw the black car again. It drove slowly past and Ruby hurried to take a closer look.

By the time she opened the front door and stood on the pavement, the vehicle had disappeared.

‘Any sign of Mrs Freeman?’ Debbie asked an hour later, now minus her heels and plodding about the back yard in wellingtons. Sliding a spade under the excrement, she
shovelled the muck into the battered dustbin.

‘Not yet.’

‘Good. Delilah’s still damp.’

The sharp September breeze blew across the yard and Ruby pulled a face. ‘What a stink!’

‘The bin’s full. Didn’t have a chance to clear up on Saturday before we left. One sniff of this and Larry would faint.’

‘For someone who owns a poodle parlour, it’s weird,’ Ruby mused curiously. ‘Larry don’t like dogs. Or cats. Or anything with feathers.’

Debbie chuckled. ‘Bonkers, eh? You’d think after his mum passed away, he’d sell up. But no. He simply got rid of all the livestock she kept, decorated through – and then
hired us to run it as a poodle parlour.’

Ruby frowned thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t know his mum kept livestock here.’

Debbie jerked her head towards the brick wall and adjoining building. ‘Len, the greengrocer next door, told me the old biddy dyed knackered-out greyhounds a different colour, so she could
sell them to race under another name. She even trapped wild birds and kept them in cages. He said she’d sell anything with a heartbeat. If anyone had offered a good price for Larry
she’d probably have taken it.’

‘Poor Larry. No wonder he flogged everything when she died.’

‘What Len objected to was the stink of the animals as it drifted over the wall. She wasn’t exactly known for her hygienic standards.’

Ruby shuddered at the horror story. ‘Not like Larry, then?’

‘No, Larry even carries a lady’s lace hanky to blow his nose with.’

‘Yeah, he’s dead fussy about his looks,’ Ruby agreed.

Debbie raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re more or less running the business for him, you know. Not making millions, but enough to cover the overheads and for them to trot off abroad every
year.’

‘Don’t blame ’em.’ Ruby shrugged. ‘I like Stuart. He’s always got a smile.’

‘And more!’ Debbie snorted. ‘He’s a dish.’

Ruby thought of Larry’s boyfriend who breezed in occasionally to flatter and charm. Tall, dark and exotically handsome, he’d be snatched up by any girl if he was available. Stuart
must have been a real catch for Larry who was nothing out of the ordinary. Short and plump and in his early thirties, he was already losing his hair.

‘You off soon?’ Debbie removed her wellingtons and slipped on her shoes at the back door.

‘I’m going to have me hair done at two.’

‘No rush, love. Larry never calls till late, so take your time. And I’ve only got the Pekinese to trim.’ Debbie smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. ‘By the way, there was
someone trawling past us in a blooming great car this morning. It stopped, then moved off and must have gone around the block as it came back again.’

‘Did you see who was driving?’