The Campbell Road Girls. Kay Brellend
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opposite direction. The most interesting notice she’d seen all day was a newsstand placard declaring, lord mayor’s show: over 30 injured as elephants stampede.
‘Thanks, Connie,’ Lucy threw over a shoulder, followed by a breathless, ‘Wish me luck.’
When Lucy rushed up, puffing, to scan the sweet shop window her heart plummeted. There was nothing advertised behind the glass but the shop’s wares. She took a glance past bottles and jars filled with colourful candies and saw Mrs Dobson. She appeared to be alone inside so Lucy decided it might be worth asking, just in case the card had fallen on the floor, and lain there unnoticed.
The bell on the door announced her and she received a sour look from the shopkeeper. Lucy had always thought Mr and Mrs Dobson a pair of miserable gits. When young and saucy and still at school she’d once told him to suck what he sold ’cos it might sweeten him up a bit.
‘Good afternoon to you, Mrs Dobson. Heard you wanted an assistant,’ Lucy started politely. ‘I’d like to apply for the job.’
‘It’s taken,’ Mrs Dobson returned flatly, then glanced up again and levelled an interested look at Lucy.
She’d hired Jennifer Finch last week but was beginning to regret it even though she was paying her a low rate because of her age. The girl had showed no aptitude for the work. She stood daydreaming at quiet times rather than stirring herself to tidy up or refill bottles and jars. Jennifer had gone off on her dinner break yesterday and returned ten minutes late. Mrs Dobson glanced at the clock on the wall. She was late again today; it was twenty-five minutes to two and she had been due back at half-past one.
‘I’m giving somebody a short trial to see if they suit. You can come back tomorrow, if you like, and I’ll let you know if I’m satisfied with her.’ Mrs Dobson knew when Jennifer eventually returned she’d tell her she could keep her coat on and go back home.
Mrs Dobson was aware that Lucy Keiver came from a rough family in the Bunk, but some of that clan had done all right for themselves and were known to be hard workers. Besides, she looked to be at least eighteen, whereas Jennifer was virtually a school leaver and acted as though she needed to return to the classroom and pay attention this time.
But Mrs Dobson knew her husband would disapprove of Lucy Keiver; he had always been prejudiced against people from the Bunk, lumping them all together as liars and thieves. Mrs Dobson, however, was prepared to speak as she found and so far she’d nothing against Lucy. Besides, as her husband left it to her to earn them both a living running the shop during the week, while he swanned off to council meetings and sat on his backside drinking tea and eating biscuits, she reckoned it was up to her who she employed as help, and if he didn’t like it, he knew what he could do.
Lucy turned to go, smiling her thanks, but felt none the less dejected. She was sure that whoever had got the job would make sure they kept hold of it with Christmas looming and work being so hard to come by.
Having closed the shop door she turned the corner and bumped straight into Jennifer Finch. Lucy didn’t know the girl well as Jennifer was about four years younger than she was, and their mothers tended to be prickly with one another. Nevertheless, having gone to the same school, they usually said hello and perhaps stopped for a brief chat. Lucy was aware that in the past Jennifer had seemed to admire her from afar because she’d been popular and had had a lot of friends at Pooles Park School. Out of the two girls, Lucy preferred Jennifer’s twin, Katherine. She’d always seemed more interesting and less sulky. Since Lucy had been back living in London she’d seen Katherine out and about a few times and they’d waved at one another.
‘Where you off to in such a hurry?’ Lucy asked with a smile.
‘Late back fer work after me dinner break,’ Jennifer replied, coming to a halt. ‘Hope the old bag sacks me, actually. Never wanted to work in that poxy sweet shop anyhow. It was me mum’s idea; I only took it to shut her up moaning.’
‘You’ve got the job at Dobson’s?’
Jennifer nodded glumly. ‘Worst luck. I’m after getting a position in one of the big department stores. I’m applying to Selfridges after Christmas. I’ve just turned fifteen.’
Lucy affected to look encouraging despite knowing Jennifer would have to wait till she was older, and had an impressive reference, to get a sales position in Oxford Street. But Lucy believed everybody was entitled to dream and have ambition.
‘Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it. I’m after a job.’
Jennifer looked surprised. ‘Thought you was working in service.’
‘I was, but I’m back home now so I can look after me mum.’
‘She’s still limping badly, ain’t she?’ Jennifer said sympathetically, leaning back against the wall as though she’d forgotten about getting back to work and was settling down for a long chat. ‘I saw her out walking with one of your sisters and she was struggling to keep up.’
‘Hadn’t you best get back to work if you’re late?’ Lucy cocked her head towards the sweet shop.
As Jennifer trudged on with a grimace, Lucy turned to watch her. Suddenly she realised she might not be wasting her time going back to see Mrs Dobson tomorrow ...
Ada Stone knew she was being watched.
She strolled away from the rack of elegant day dresses and approached a display of winter coats. With practised nonchalance she checked the size of a garment and smoothed her fingers over the tweed, inspecting its quality. A legitimate customer with twelve guineas to spare would have felt entitled to inspect an intended purchase. But Ada wasn’t about to buy anything from this shop, although she had previously selected several nice blouses. At present those were secreted about her person in cavernous pockets within her clothes, roomy enough to hide more choice items, and before she left the store, Ada was determined to fill them.
The thin-faced fellow in a pinstriped suit moved to follow Ada, stopping at a display counter adjacent to the coats. He positioned himself so he could still covertly observe her from beneath the brim of his hat.
Ada could have laughed. If he thought he was a professional he was mistaken. She’d spotted him a mile off, not long after she’d entered Debenham and Freebody. In her opinion he resembled a pensioned off flat-foot who’d got himself a store walker’s job to keep out of his wife’s way.
Her amusement withered away. Luckily, he’d only been on her tail since she’d settled by the dresses. She’d managed to get one off the hanger and had been ready to stuff it out of sight when she’d noticed he was on to her. With great composure she’d strolled to the nearest mirror, held the gown up against her and deliberated on her reflection. Then she’d carefully returned the garment to the rail. He hadn’t caught her out and she wasn’t about to confirm his suspicions that she was up to no good. If he tried to arrest her, she was confident she could outrun him to the exit but she was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. She’d got her eye on several other nice pieces to nab; Bill would praise her to the skies if she managed to return to Lambeth up to the gills in classy merchandise.
And if her useless associate would play her part properly Ada knew it was possible she would saunter out onto Oxford Street in a few minutes’ time looking as though she’d doubled in size.
Today, Ada Stone would have been unrecognisable to her erstwhile colleagues at Mortimer House. She had a polished veneer as befitted a patron of an expensive store. A smart velvet cloche hat was perched at a jaunty angle on her sleek bobbed hair; her coat was of dark blue cashmere and her new court shoes and matching gloves were of soft kid. Yet beneath her breath she began swearing like a navvy.
Mavis Pooley was supposed to be causing a distraction while Ada got on with the delicate business of thieving. Her co-conspirator, was just seventeen and on her first shoplifting jaunt. Mavis