“You can talk.” Brenda addressed herself to Mike.
“She's been all over that bloke behind the palm. Can't see his face but his clothes are posh.”
“Eee, Dot,” Mike said, awed, “have you got a rich admirer?”
“Could be,” Dottie agreed.
“He's been asking her all sorts of personal stuff,” Brenda went on. “Like, has she got any family?”
“What's he want to do that for?” Mike asked, puzzled.
“White slavery,” Brenda said dramatically.
Dottie stared. “You what?”
“He's the front man, luring innocent girls into his net, then selling them on,” Brenda said with relish. “He's probably stocking a harem. He's asking all those questions because he wants to know if anyone will be looking for you.”
“Then why isn't he asking you questions?” Dottie wanted to know.
“There's a better market in blondes. He's probably got your purchaser already lined up.”
Mike was impressed. “Hey, Dot, do you think he'd give me two camels for you?”
“You cheeky blighter!” she said indignantly. “What do you mean, two? Three, or you're dead.”
“Well, tell him I'm open to offers. Three camels would just about pay the deposit on that garage.”
This sent Dottie into gales of laughter. Still shaking she made her way unsteadily back to Randolph's table, and collapsed into her seat.
“What's so funny?” Randolph demanded, fascinated. He'd only caught odd scraps of the conversation.
It took her some time to get the words out between chuckles, but when she'd finished he gave a reluctant grin. Despite his gloomy mood he found her sunny approach to life infectious.
“I'm afraid I'm not anything as interesting as a white slaver,” he said.
“Pity,” Dottie said, making a face. “I could sell you Brenda at a discount. That would make her leave my fiancé alone.”
“She's certainly making eyes at him. And he doesn't seem to mind.”
“Oh, Mike's an innocent,” Dottie said cheerfully. “He needs me to look after him.”
“Shouldn't he be looking after you?”
“We look after each other, we always have, ever since we were at school. On my first day, someone knocked me down in the playground and he picked me up and stopped them doing it again. And I helped him with his sums.”
Yes, Randolph thought uncharitably, the bumpkin looked like someone who would need help with his sums.
“Is that all you want out of life,” he asked, “to settle down with a garage mechanic?”
“What's wrong with him being a garage mechanic?” she fired up.
“Nothing,” he said hastily, reading dire retribution in her eyes. “I just thought you might have been a bit more ambitious.”
“Why?” she asked, honestly baffled.
“Because a girl as pretty as you could take her pick of men.”
“Do you really think I'm pretty?”
“Ravishing,” he said, adding shamelessly, “With that tiny waist and those smoky blue eyes, you could be a model.”
“You are a white slaver,” she said triumphantly. “I must tell Mike. He said you could have me for three camels.”
Randolph felt all at sea. Nothing in his previous life had prepared him for a woman who turned everything into a joke.
“Why does he want three camels?” he asked, grasping at straws.
“When he's sold them he can afford the deposit on a garage.”
“I'm not sure how much three camels would fetch,” he mused, keeping gamely up with her.
“Well if it's not enough we'll throw Brenda in as well, for another two.”
“Only two?”
“Well, she's not worth as many as me,” Dottie said with such indignation that he laughed. “He's not just a mechanic,” she added. “He's going to be an owner.”
“And who'll do the sums?” Randolph asked, touched by her eagerness.
“Me of course. Mike's genius is in his hands.”
“And did you, by any chance, put the idea into his head?”
“I may have done.”
“And who found the garage?”
“Well, me.”
“And who's been talking with the bank? Mike?”
Dottie crowed with laughter and thumped him on the shoulder in a familiar way that nobody had ever dared do before. For an instant he stiffened, but then he remembered he was incognito and forced himself to relax.
“It's no use you trying to make me think Mike is thick.”
“I can see that,” he murmured wryly.
“Anyway, I don't care. He's mine.”
The sudden softening of her voice, and a glow in her eyes made Randolph ask quietly, “You really love him, don't you?”
“Heaps and heaps,” Dottie said with a happy sigh.
“So you wouldn't be interested in my nefarious intentions?”
“Nef- What?”
“It means 'up to no good.' That's what you think of me?”
“I've got to, while you're in that posh gear,” she said cheekily. “The last bloke who came in here dressed like that was arrested as he went out the door. Got five years for fraud.”
“Then since my clothes have given me away, you'd better tell me something about yourself so that I can decide whether you're worth three camels.”
That made her crow with laughter, and to his ears it had a pleasant sound.
“My name's Dottie Hebden,” she said, unwittingly sinking his last hope. “It's short for Dorothea. I ask you! Fancy saddling someone with a name like Dorothea!”
“Perhaps it's a family name.”
“Funny you should say that because as a matter of fact it is. According to my grandpa, anyway. If you believed him we come from a grand family, years and years ago.”
“Did he ever tell you anything about this family?”
“I'm not sure. The trouble was, he was a terrible man for the drink, and when he was tipsy everyone stopped listening. No, it was just Grandpa spinning pretty tales.”
“Haven't you ever wished that they were true?”
“Heavens no! What, me? Swanning about in a tiara and acting grand? Don't be funny!”
Her smile died as something attracted her attention. Randolph followed her gaze and saw that Mike was talking into a mobile phone, looking as annoyed as his good-natured face would allow. He finished the call, shrugged helplessly at Dottie and rose to his feet.
“Sorry, love,” he said, coming across. “Gotta go out and see to a breakdown. Important customer. It sounds like a long job, so I won't see you tonight. Never mind. Tomorrow's half day. Meet you in the park as usual.”
He kissed her cheek and departed.
“Oh heck!” Dottie sighed. “Just when we're about to close. Brenda, come and help me clear up. Brenda? Brenda?”
“I'm afraid she's gone,” Randolph told her. “She slipped out straight after Mike.”
“The lousy, rotten… She's not supposed to leave until I say so. You wouldn't believe it, but I'm supposed to be the manageress here.” Dottie stood in the middle of the floor, raised her fluffy head to heaven and cried, “I am Authority, with a capital A. Underlings tremble when I talk to them.” There was a cheer from the other customers, evidently used to this, and she reverted to normal. “But for all the notice she takes of me I might as well be the dogsbody. In fact,
I am the dogsbody, because now I've got to clear up on my own.”
“I'm afraid that's the price of scaling managerial heights,” Randolph said sympathetically.
Dottie pointed a sausage at him. “You can hush!”
She went around the tables collecting money, and the café slowly emptied. As she started the washing up a wall phone buzzed. Under cover of taking his crockery to the counter Randolph shamelessly eavesdropped, but it gained him little. Dottie's face, full of exasperation, was more revealing.
“I'll strangle Jack,” she said, hanging up. “Someone called Holsson made a reservation for tonight and Jack forgot to tell me, so I've got to get his room ready before I go. Oh blast Jack. I hope his milk curdles and his socks rot. And the same goes for Mr. Holsson, whoever he is.”