Lizzie of Langley Street Read Free Page B

skins were riddled with disease. And there were rats. Vermin as big as dogs. But these
men were starving and they’d resort to anything to feed their families.
    Lizzie shivered. There were always anthrax deaths on the island. The stories were gruesome. At least Bert and Vinnie had never had to unload skins, she thought more cheerfully. Perhaps being a
bookie’s runner wasn’t so bad after all.
    The market stalls were suddenly in sight and Lizzie quickened her step. Would Danny be there with his barrow? Eagerly she looked for his fair head and broad shoulders, her heart beating fast as
her eyes scanned the crowd. Colour, laughter and early morning jokes abounded. The traders were busy erecting stalls and insulting one another. Fruit and vegetables, fish, meat, materials, china.
It was all there, like Aladdin’s cave, spread out over the tables.
    It seemed as though she hadn’t lived till this minute.
    The beautiful features of the young woman were enhanced by a soft smile as she drew the delicate pink silk through her fingers. ‘How much are these ribbons?’ she
asked in a refined accent.
    ‘A penny’s worth there, miss.’ Lizzie gazed up, fascinated by the aura of wealth and respectability. ‘The blue would look lovely on you.’
    ‘Do you think so?’
    ‘Why don’t you try one on, miss?’ Lizzie held up one of the blue ribbons. It matched the girl’s powder blue coat and velvet hat with an upturned brim.
    ‘Have you a mirror?’
    ‘No, but Freda has. Over there on the fruit and veg stall. Freda’ll hold your hat whilst you try them on.’ Lizzie knew that Fat Freda, who was always putting on her red
lipstick and smacking her lips in a big, cracked mirror, would gladly offer her help. She watched the girl walk gracefully to Fat Freda’s stall.
    The next moment Freda was holding her mirror up and giving Lizzie a wink on the sly. Lizzie knew once those ribbons were in the girl’s hair she’d be hooked. The girl didn’t
give Freda her hat, just held the ribbons against her peaches and cream cheek and Lizzie knew it was enough. She would be opening her purse any moment.
    Freda raised her pencilled eyebrows behind the mirror.
    Lizzie giggled.
    ‘Off you go, gel.’ Tom Allen gave his daughter a nudge. ‘Stop staring at the customers and go and find Dickie for me. Tell him to come up for a chat if he’s done all his
business.’
    ‘But Pa—!’ The girl was walking back, a satisfied look on her face.
    Tom Allen pulled down his scarf with an irritable jerk. ‘Ain’t you awake yet, gel? Did you hear what I said?’
    ‘Yes, Pa.’ Lizzie glanced at their customer one last time before walking away. She liked selling, but it wasn’t often Tom let her. He preferred her to push the chair or run
errands, like now, irritably dispatching her to find Dickie Potts, one of his friends.
    ‘How’d it go?’ Fat Freda asked as Lizzie passed her stall.
    ‘She’ll buy ’em I think. Thanks for the loan of the mirror.’
    ‘Yer old man oughta let you flog stuff more often,’ Freda exclaimed. ‘You’re a natural, gel. You’d sell sand to an Arab.’
    Lizzie liked Fat Freda, so named because of her immense girth and chins. She was not from the island, but hailed from Poplar. Freda was a widow with a large family and numerous grandchildren.
She attended the market each week and was known for her loud singing voice and hammering out tunes on the pub piano. Tickling the ivories, as she called it.
    ‘You seen Danny yet?’ Freda asked, winking.
    Lizzie blushed and tried to pretend she hadn’t heard.
    ‘He’s along there with his barra,’ Freda said loudly enough for the whole market to hear. ‘Down the end of the row.’
    Lizzie went scarlet. She kept her head down as she left Freda’s stall. She had to take the long route in order to pass Danny and she hoped no one would notice. Her heart was pounding as
she walked through the crowd. Would Danny speak when he saw her? Or would he be too busy