‘Go on and read it then,’ Constance urged her, and wheeled her chair over to the stove, because the kettle was boiling for their tea.
Dear Molly
[she read]
. I was so very relieved and happy to get a letter from your friend, because I just knew you hadn’t stolen anything, I know that wicked Miss Stow made it up. But I didn’t know how to find you, and I was really sad because I missed you so much and I was afraid you’d have to go home and face your dad.
I spent the whole of Christmas Day crying. All those plans we had, the stockings and meeting those blokes at the Empire. It was just miserable. I never even wore my new dress.
None of the other girls believe you’d done anything either. All of them thought it was a terrible thing to do to you. I hope that makes you feel better.
I’ve got a new girl in with me now. Her name is Janice, and she’s the most boring person I’ve ever met. She sits and knits, like that Madame Defarge in
A Tale of Two Cities.
Even the jumper she’s knitting is brown. Only really dull people wear that colour! I’m almost tempted to invite her out one night and then push her onto the tube line.
I’ll phone you on Thursday evening, and I hope we can arrange to meet up somewhere. I never wanted to lose touch with you. I thought we’d still be mates when we were old ladies. You thank Constance for me, tell her I said she is an angel for writing to me.
Your loving chum, Dilys
‘Oh, Constance,’ Molly sighed as she finished the letter. She wiped a stray tear from her eye. ‘Thank you so much for writing to her. She doesn’t believe I did it.’
‘Would anyone believe that if they really knew you?’ Constance smiled and poured tea into two cups. ‘So, when are you going to see her?’
‘She said she’ll phone on Thursday,’ Molly said, her eyes shining. ‘I’m so excited.’
It was on Thursday that Charles Sanderson came into the café.
The man might have had a dirty face and been covered in brick dust, but he had the biggest, softest brown eyes Molly had ever seen and a smile that would light up the whole of Whitechapel.
‘What’s a pretty little doll like you doing in a Whitechapel caff?’ he said, leaning on the counter and looking right into her eyes. Molly found herself opening and closing her mouth like a fish at the question.
‘Did you say an egg-and-bacon sandwich?’ she said, unable to think of any clever response.
‘I certainly did, and is that a West Country accent I hear?’
She nodded, because he was looking at her so intently she couldn’t speak.
‘I went to the West Country once, but it was closed,’ he said.
‘We don’t allow cocky cockneys in,’ she retorted.
He laughed, and his lovely brown eyes crinkled up. ‘So what made you come to the Big Smoke?’ he asked, leaning even further over the counter, as if he might reach out and grab her.
‘It’s a long, dull story,’ she said. ‘Let’s just say I didn’t expect to end up making bacon-and-egg sandwiches.’
She turned away from him to the stove, put the bacon in the pan and began to butter the bread. ‘A cup of tea?’ she asked, turning back to him.
Two other men had come in behind him and he glanced round at them. ‘Wish I could talk to you,’ he said. ‘When does it get quiet?’
‘When I go home at three,’ she said.
‘Right, I’ll meet you then.’ He grinned.
He watched silently as Molly got his sandwich ready, served the two newcomers with sausages and chips, poured cups of tea for them all and rang up the money.
‘You’re very efficient,’ he said as she handed him his sandwich. ‘Along with being very pretty,’ he added.
Molly couldn’t help but laugh. He had such a cheeky grin, and his voice was deep and musical. ‘You’ve got rather a lot to say for yourself, for a man covered in brick dust.’
All at once, eight or nine people came through the door and the man was forced to take his sandwich and cup of tea and go and sit down. Molly was too busy even to check what he was doing, and when she finally got a moment to go and clear the tables he had gone.
There was no sign of him when she left the café and, though she was a bit disappointed, she wasn’t surprised. Men often said cheeky or flattering things to her; two or three had even asked her out. She thought it was merely showing off in front of their mates. In any case, she was expecting Dilys to phone tonight, and that would be more than enough excitement for one day.
She was just turning into Myrdle Street when she heard the sound of someone running. She glanced around, and it was him. He’d washed his face and he was out of breath.
‘I couldn’t get away,’ he gasped out. ‘Glad I caught up with you.’
Molly’s heart leapt. He wasn’t matinee-idol kind of handsome, but he had such a nice face and she was flattered that he was interested enough in her to chase her down the road.
‘Are you doing some building work nearby?’ she asked.
‘Yes, we’ve been clearing that bomb site just around the corner from the caff. We start digging the foundations for a block of flats next week.’
She couldn’t help but be glad he was going to be around for a few more weeks. ‘Do you live round here?’ she asked.
‘In Bethnal Green,’ he said. ‘But what made you come here? You’re far too posh for Whitechapel.’
Molly giggled. ‘I’m just the same as loads of other people who end up here. I just didn’t have anywhere else to go.’
‘Tell me about it,’ he insisted, taking her hand and tucking it under his arm as they walked along the street.
‘I’m nearly home now, and I can’t ask you in, as I live with an elderly lady who is in the Church Army,’ she said. ‘Also, I don’t even know your name!’
‘It’s Charley,’ he said. ‘Charles Sanderson of Bethnal Green, age twenty-seven, still got all me own teeth and, luckily, I was too young to join up in the war but did me National Service when it ended and got sent to Germany.’
‘I like the potted history, but you still can’t come in,’ Molly said, grinning at him. ‘I’m Molly Heywood, grocer’s daughter from Somerset. I was working at Bourne & Hollingsworth but got the sack for something I didn’t do. That’s why I’m here.’
‘They said you nicked something?’
Molly explained briefly. ‘I really didn’t do it, as God is my witness.’
‘I believe you, but I’d like you just as much if you had done it,’ he said. ‘Those posh shops are right slave drivers, anyway. Treat their staff bad.’
‘I really liked it there, and I loved living in their hostel. Constance was the only person I knew in London, so I kind of threw myself on her mercy. That was back on Christmas Eve, and now here we are at the end of February and I’m hoping to find a job in a hotel in Kent or Sussex.’
She stopped outside number ninety-two. ‘This is me now,’ she said.
‘Come out to the flicks with me tonight?’ he said. ‘Genevieve is on. Do you like John Gregson?’
‘Yes, I do, and I’d like to see it, but I can’t go tonight,’ she said. Apart from Dilys phoning, she thought she should play hard to get, and she needed time to tell Constance about him.
‘Tomorrow, then? If you’re planning to run away from Whitechapel I’ve only got a short while to talk you out of it.’
She looked into his soft, brown eyes and her stomach did a kind of somersault.
‘You won’t talk me out of it, but tomorrow is fine,’ she said, wondering if her face showed what she’d just felt inside.
‘We’ll see about that,’ he said with a wide grin. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven.’