‘She’s gone now,’ he told her. ‘It’s just Dad at home.’
‘The teddy boy.’
‘That’s him. Look, is this the place? I’m actually dying for the bog now.’
This is the one, Penny thought, gazing at the great steamy window of the Copper Kettle and its dried flowers on the windowsill.
‘Could you order me some quiche?’ Vince asked her as they shoved inside. He shot off through the crowded tables and Penny was met by a young waiter in a frayed black waistcoat. He was small, girlishly featured and his hair was greased back, but not quite properly: there was a dry calf-lick sticking out of his crown. He looked at her and she saw he had a twitch.
‘Is there room for two?’ she asked, amazed he could hear her over all the noise. It was intense. They seemed to have walked in on the most animated points in all the conversations in the room. But that was what it was like in the Copper Kettle. They even got people here who came in by themselves and shouted loudly to no one in particular. That was mostly Saturday afternoons, when they let the people in the hospital up the road out for a wander.
The waiter was in a bad mood. He glanced round, led the way and flicked his tea towel at an empty table. It was pressed between the backs of women clustered around their own tables. From one came piercing laughter in waves as someone held court and everyone indulged them. Penny was intent on the dirtiness of the table the waiter had brought her to. There was a layering of tablecloths, crusted with stains and crumbs.
She jumped when, as she was sitting down, somebody! grabbed her elbow from behind.
‘Mam!’ she gasped, looking round.
Liz gave her a shrewd look, her face red with laughing. ] There were three others sitting with her. Penny recognised ] two women from Phoenix Court and someone who was surely one of the bus drivers. Her instant reaction was pleasure, that her mam had found a place here so soon. She could have a cackle with someone.
‘Have you had the same idea?’ asked Liz loudly. At this point Vince had found his way to their table and was settling into a place of his own. Liz raked her beautifully painted eyes over him. ‘I mean, about having lunch here?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She hesitated, caught between Vince and Liz. She hated formal introductions. ‘This is my English teacher, one of my English teachers.’
‘Vincent Northspoon,’ he said, raising himself and offering his hand. When Liz took it she jangled her bracelets and announced to the others, ‘Penny is doing A-level English. And this nice young man is going to teach her. She’s going far, this one.’
Vince fell back into his seat.
‘Do you often go to lunch with your students, Vincent?’ Liz fixed him with a stare.
‘Not often, no,’ he said, faltering slightly. ‘But I don’t believe in keeping different people and things separate. I can’t compartmentalise my life. We’re having a laugh.’
Obviously, for Liz, this reply had seen him through some kind of test. ‘And so are we,’ she said graciously.
The others were greeting Penny. From under her dark bob Fran gave a friendly smile. Jane went ‘hi-ya’ somewhat grudgingly, Penny thought, and the bus driver seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. Liz winked.
‘I’ll leave you to order your lunch in peace,’ she said. ‘We’re discussing serious things here. We’re planning a big night out.’
As her mother turned away, Penny sighed.
‘Your mam looks young,’ said Vince, flicking the menu. ‘Ugh, God! Look at this. Mince on toast.’
‘They’ve got quiche on, anyway.’
‘And is there a dad at home?’
She shook her head.
‘Maybe we should introduce my dad to your mam,’ Vince said. ‘We could be like the bloody Brady Bunch.’
‘Great,’ she said distractedly. Vince’s novelty value had already worn off. ‘What are we having?’
The small waiter was back beside them. He looked on the verge of a stinking migraine. With their order taken, he slipped crossly away.
‘He’s sweet,’ Penny said. ‘Makes me feel all protective.’
‘I bet he’d be furious to hear you say that.’
‘1 don’t care.’
‘He wants to wash his hair.’ Vince peered over heads to see him.
‘I’d take him home and run him a bath and strip him.’ Penny was looking wistful.
‘Well,’ Vince said smiling, ‘maybe I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crisps.’
Penny’s eyes went wide.
There was a great peal of laughter from her mother. Liz swung round in her chair and broke in as the giggles at her own table were subsiding. ‘Oh, I’ve just told them the most awful joke. I’d forgotten I knew it. It just came out and I’m so ashamed of myself.’
‘Go on,’ Penny told her with lips pursed.
‘Have you heard about the new Tupperware girdle?’ She raised an eyebrow and tittered at Vince. She’s still testing me, he thought. ‘It does nothing for your figure, but it keeps your fanny fresh.’
That said, she returned to her original audience, snorting. Penny was horrified to see Vince helpless with that infectious laugh of his. It reminded her of that nice first lesson, when he made them all laugh. This seemed to diminish that lesson. Worse, his giggles threatened to set her off.
‘Don’t encourage her,’ she hissed. ‘She’s getting worse.’ Vince made a very teacherly effort at composure. But his eyes, Penny thought; the unspoken stuff, just lurking there… ‘I wish that little waiter would hurry up.’ He said it with eyes cast down, and they waited for their quiche now in quiet.
They said goodbye to Liz’s party outside Boots. The others were heading off to catch the Road Ranger back to Phoenix Court, the bus driver was going back to the depot, and Penny supposed she ought to return to school.
Vince had turned thoughtful. As farewells were said he was staring at the market stalls, their tarpaulins heaving in the wind.
‘Is something the matter?’ she asked
