Christmas to Come: a heartbreaking coming of age saga set in London's East End by Carol Rivers (first e reader txt) 📕

'I wish you was my missus,' he grinned, poising his knife and fork before the plate hit the table. 'All I get from her is get your great big mitts 'orf you greedy great pig! Or sod off down the pub and buy yourself a pasty. That's why I come here for my nosh. I get treated like a gentleman.'

'Which you ain't,' his friend pointed out, thrusting a rasher of streaky bacon into his mouth as he spoke. 'It's your poor old lady I feel sorry for. Fancy having to live with you for forty odd years. Working with you i s bad enough, but waking up in the morning and seeing that great ugly mush of yours beside me, I'd have topped myself by now.'

'Yeah, well, you're no Errol Flynn yourself,' the first man replied, zipping open a sausage as soon as Bella let go off the plate. 'Don't listen to him, love. I treat me missus like a queen.'

'Yeah, he kisses her arse once a year if he's lucky, and she crowns 'im afterwards!'

The cafe erupted in laughter and Bella joined in as she collected the dirty plates and expertly balanced them on her forearm. Under Gina's tuition she had soon learned how to be the perfect waitress and her quick sense of humour had endeared her to all the customers. Bella couldn't wait to turn the notice on the door in the morning to Open. By which time she had prepared the food in the kitchen for breakfasts and buttered four loaves, piling them up in readiness for the orders. Gina had taught her how to cook brown crinkled bacon, crusty fried bread and eggs with a soft yellow eye; food that was unheard of in Bow Street. Gina knew all the customer's individual tastes, right down to the way each one liked the strength of their tea or coffee, served almost immediately they walked in the door. They were busy men with only half an hour to spare sometimes. The food and drink had to be on the table without fuss or delay. From the very first moment Bella had tied an apron round her waist, she seemed to sense the customers needs.

'Two fry ups over here, love, and four more on the way in,' called someone else in the corner. Bella nodded, wrote the order swiftly on the pad attached to a string on her belt and hurried out to the kitchen. Gina was at the cooker, dressed as Bella was, in the regulation white apron.

Bella lay the order on the table with the others. 'Two breakfasts now and four on their way.'

Gina indicated two meals already prepared. 'There you are, love. Regular as clockwork, these Friday boys. We'll have all the blokes in soon from the building site round the corner. I'll double up the bacon as they've got stomachs as big as elephants.'

'Shall I tell them the Christmas dinners are on next week?' Bella asked as she filled up the hot water heater.

Gina nodded and flipped the eggs in the frying pan. 'We'll start dishing up from midday. And don't take any nonsense from them either. If you get any cheek then tell me and I'll sort them out.'

Gina had warned her that all the customers were in high spirits at this time of year and she had to be ready for jokes to be played on her. Bella was a little nervous, but she wasn't going to show it. She knew how to work quickly and please everyone. She could add up faster than Gina could and Gina was quick. All the men left the cafe with smiles on their faces and Gina had told her that in the six months she'd worked there, business had improved.

Bella almost danced her way out with the orders, her eyes twinkling as she served the piping hot meals.

It was the end of the working day and Bella and Gina were relaxing. They sat together at one of the tables at the back of the room, gazing out on the dark night. There was less traffic now and at seven o'clock in the evening, very few pedestrians. The cafe had been closed for half an hour but the smell of tobacco and fried fat was still heavy in the air.

On the table in front of them was a large brown ashtray of the workmanlike variety. Balanced on it was Gina's half-smoked Craven A filter tip. Beside the ashtray stood two mugs of coffee and arranged by these were the accounts for the week. The ledger was open beside them and Bella's careful handwriting filled the pages. With a satisfied smile Gina reached across to a small pile of receipts which she quickly tore in half.

'What the taxman doesn't see, he doesn't know I've cooked,' Gina intoned as she inhaled deeply on her cigarette then crushed it out.

Bella was accustomed to this little procedure. She had needed no instruction on how to balance the books; Dixons had taught her all she needed to know about figures.

'You know, Bella, at this rate, one day you'll have a business of your own.'

'I like working here.'

Gina laughed and lifted her long legs, crossing one slim ankle over another as she lowered them to the seat of a chair. 'You're young yet. You won't be here long. You'll get bored. Go off somewhere.'

But Bella shook her head. 'After what you've done for me?'

Gina lifted the palms of her hands. 'It's suited me as much as it has you, love.'

'We had nothing, not a bean when we came here. You gave me and Terry lodgings and he was sick at the time. It was only your grub and looking after that got him well. I'll never forget that. Never.'

'I helped you out for a price. Micky bunged me fifteen quid to be exact.'

Bella's eyes widened. 'You never said before.'

'Did you think I did it out the goodness of my heart?' Gina's face softened despite her