Page 180 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

Dave was outraged. His plan for this evening was ruined. He felt helpless and infantile. "So that's it?"

"Yes."

"I'm wasting my time here, then."

"You're listening to your father trying to guide you as best he can."

"Same bloody thing," Dave said, and he stamped out.

He took his leather jacket off the hook in the hall and left the house. It was a mild spring morning. What was he going to do? His plan for the day had been to meet some friends in Piccadilly Circus, stroll along Denmark Street looking at guitars, have a pint of beer in a pub, then come home and put on the shirt with the long collar points.

He had some change in his pocket--enough for half a pint of beer. How could he get the money for admission to the Jump Club? Perhaps he could work. Who would employ him at short notice? Some of his friends had jobs on Saturday or Sunday, working in shops and restaurants that needed extra people at the weekend. He considered walking into a cafe and offering to wash up in the kitchen. It was worth a try. He turned his steps toward the West End.

Then he had another idea.

He had relatives who might employ him. His father's sister, Millie, was in the fashion business, with three shops in affluent north London suburbs: Harrow, Golders Green, and Hampstead. She might give him a Saturday job, though he did not know how good he would be at selling frocks to ladies. Millie was married to a leather wholesaler, Abie Avery, and his warehouse in east London might be a better bet. But both Auntie Millie and Uncle Abie would probably check with Lloyd, who would tell them that Dave was supposed to be studying, not working. However, Millie and Abie had a son, Lenny, aged twenty-three, who was a small-time businessman and hustler. On Saturdays Lenny operated a market stall in Aldgate, in the East End. He sold Chanel No. 5 and other expensive perfumes at ludicrously low prices. He whispered to his customers that they were stolen, but in fact they were simple fakes, cheap scent in expensive-looking bottles.

Lenny might give Dave a day's work.

Dave had just enough money for the Tube fare. He turned into the nearest station and bought his ticket. If Lenny turned him down he did not know how he was going to get back. He guessed he could walk a few miles if necessary.

The train took him underneath London from the affluent west to the working-class east. The market was already crowded with shoppers eager to buy at prices lower than those in the regular stores. Some of the goods were stolen, Dave guessed: electric kettles, shavers, irons, and radio sets slipped out of the back door of the factory. Others were surplus production sold off cheaply by the makers: records no one wanted, books that had failed to become bestsellers, ugly photo frames, ashtrays in the shape of seashells. But most were defective. There were boxes of stale chocolates, striped scarves with a flaw in the weave, piebald leather boots that had been unevenly dyed, china plates decorated with half a flower.

Lenny resembled his and Dave's grandfather, the late Bernie Leckwith, with thick dark hair and brown eyes. Lenny's hair was oiled and combed in

to an Elvis Presley pompadour. His greeting was warm. "Hello, young Dave! Want some scent for the girlfriend? Try Fleur Sauvage." He pronounced it "flewer savidge." "Guaranteed to make her knickers fall down, yours for two shillings and sixpence."

"I need a job, Lenny," said Dave. "Can I work for you?"

"Need a job? Your mother's a millionaire, ain't she?" said Lenny evasively.

"Dad cut off my allowance."

"Why did he do that?"

"Because my schoolwork is poor. So I'm broke. I just want to earn enough money to go out tonight."

For the third time, Lenny replied with a question. "What am I, the Labour Exchange?"

"Give me a chance. I bet I could sell perfume."

Lenny turned to a customer. "You, madam, have got very good taste. Yardley perfumes are the classiest on the market--yet that bottle in your hand is only three shillings, and I had to pay two-and-six to the bloke that stole it, I mean to say supplied it to me."

The woman giggled and bought the perfume.

"I can't pay you a wage," Lenny said to Dave. "But I tell you what I'll do: I'll give you ten percent of everything you take."

"It's a deal," said Dave, and he joined Lenny behind the display.

"Keep the money in your pockets and we'll settle up later." Lenny gave him a "float" of a pound in coins to make change.

Dave picked up a bottle of Yardley, hesitated, smiled at a passing woman, and said: "The classiest perfume on the market."

She smiled back and walked on.

He kept trying, imitating Lenny's patter, and after a few minutes he sold a bottle of Joy by Patou for two-and-six. He soon knew all Lenny's lines: "Not every woman has the flair to wear this one, but you . . . Only buy this if there's a man you really want to please . . . Discontinued line, the government banned this scent because it's too sexy . . ."

The crowds were cheerful and always ready to laugh. They dressed up to come to the market: it was a social event. Dave learned a whole range of new slang for money: a sixpenny piece was a Tilbury, five shillings was a dollar, and a ten-shilling note was half a knicker.

---