Shilling a Pound Pears Read online

“I say,” he said, panting. “Can you back out of here before too many people come up behind you? There’s another way into the market, and if you go there you’ll be able to get in before all this lot in front of you.”

  “This’ll do,” Richard said flatly. “I don’t like queue jumping.”

  Peter looked at him, his face puzzled for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Well it’s up to you. But if you stay here, it’ll be gone six before you even get into the car park, and the best stuff will have gone. And heaven knows what time you’ll get back to the stall. Most of these people are shop types—they don’t have to get back to open up themselves because they’ve got people to do it for them—and they don’t mind getting back after ten in the morning. If you don’t mind either—”

  Richard looked at the other boys’ face, and at Hilary’s angry set mouth. “All right,” he said resignedly. “Where do we go?”

  “Follow me.” Peter disappeared from the window to reappear on the other side of the car. Following his directions, Richard reversed and backed away from the queue, to turn sharp left into a narrow road a little further back. Peter cycled in front of them and let the car through a narrow maze of tiny streets to a road that ended in a blank wall, with a pair of big gates in the centre of it.

  “We’re first,” he called. “There’ll be a few more here yet, before they open in five minutes’ time.”

  He was right. Sharp at five-thirty the big gates were opened by an old man in a long grey overall, and Richard now at the head of a small queue of vans and cars, followed Peter’s bicycle into the huge car park of the wholesale market.

  On the other side of the car park, there were more gates in the high brick wall, and through them came lorry after lorry, all roaring into their own parking places. Even Richard had to admit that Peter had served them well when they all fell out of the car, stiff and crumpled from the ride. They were parked facing a gateway, at the end of a line of vans, and the car park was filling with incredible speed. Already some vans were having to cruise about looking for a space, while other jockeyed and reversed, trying to get better placed for the getaway after the buying was done.

  “Thanks,” Richard said, a little gruff with embarrassment. “it’s a good spot.”

  “That’s all right.” Peter grinned. “You weren’t to know, were you? I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been here before. Can I shove my bike on top of the car for now? It’ll get smashed if I leave it on the ground—some of thee drivers are right so-and-so’s.”

  “Sure. Richard helped the other boy put his bike on the roof, while Hilary and Jane collected the boys and Barbara into a group, hanging firmly on to Jojo who showed every intention of going off on a tour of inspection of his own.

  “It’s very nice of you to let me come with you, you know.” Peter said awkwardly to Richard as they climbed down after putting the bike on the roof of the car. “I’ve got a dreary job this summer—shelf-filling at that supermarket on the corner by the street market. it’s as dull as anything I ever did. It pays well, so that’s why I’m doing it. But it’d make a lot of difference if you let me help you lot a bit. I thought—well, coming up, I was thinking you’d get a bit tired if you had to come up here every morning. I passed my driving test last year, so if you ever want a morning off I’ll be glad to drive here for you—if you’d let me.” He turned to look at the car. “She’s a lovely job, isn’t she? I wish she were mine. If you won’t let me drive her, I won’t blame you. I wouldn’t if she were mine.”

  Richard began to feel that perhaps this Peter bloke wasn’t so bad after all. Quite apart from the offer to take over one morning—and Richard wasn’t really relishing the thought of a 4.30 a.m. all every day for a month—he obviously knew a good car when he saw one. Richard was rather sensitive on the subject of his beloved car, and had been known to lose his temper very thoroughly with anyone who made derogatory remarks about her appearance. Old-fashioned though the car was, with her high square body, tiny rear window, and rattling doors, her engine was a sound as a nut, and capable of considerable effort.

  So now he smiled briefly at the other boy, and said, “Mmm. We’ll have to think about it. Right now, business.” He turned to the others.

  “Got the money, Jane?”

  Jane nodded. “I thought we’d split up, and all go round looking at prices and so on, and all buy something different. “It’ll save time.”

  Hilary nodded. “Suppose I take Barbara with me, and buy pears—Richard, you take Stephen and Philip and buy apples, while Jane takes John and Jojo and gets oranges and lemons.”

  “You’d better look for bananas too, Hilary,” Jane said. “And Richard and Stephen and Philip can get plums if there are any, and I’ll get grapefruit too.”

  “What about grapes?” Hilary said.

  “You’d better get those too. I think that covers it, doesn’t it? Apples, pears, oranges, bananas, grapes, plums, lemons and grapefruit.” Jane ticked each item off on her fingers. “Anything else?”

  “Strawberries?” Barbara said hopefully. “They’re still in season, Jane.”

  Peter coughed apologetically. “I’d leave those, if I were you, Richard,” he said, wisely remembering that Richard was the senior of the group. “People in our market at Camden Town won’t buy strawberries on a Monday. They’ll buy 'em for week-ends, but Monday’s a bad day—washday for one thing, and not much housekeeping money left after the week-end for another. Some people round there get paid on Wednesdays, so any day from Wednesday on is O.K. for special things like that.”

  Hilary smiled at Peter. “I’m awfully glad you came, Peter,” she said. “I’d never have thought of a thing like that—I’d probably have bought strawberries, and then had them go bad because we couldn’t sell them.”

  “They wouldn’t have gone bad,” Stephen murmured. “I can promise you that!”

  “Suppose each group takes six pounds,” Jane said. “That’ll leave two pounds in the kitty. Only try not to spend it all if you can help it. it’s all we’ve got.”

  She counted out the crisp notes into Hilary’s and Richard’s hands, and tucked her own share back into her pocket. “Now, where do we start?”

  They all looked at Peter who with a quick glance at Richard said, “Did Yossell suggest any particular wholesalers to buy from?”

  Jane pulled her little notebook from her pocket. “He gave me three names.”

  “Fine. Because I don’t know any of them myself. I’d suggest you go to the people he knows. Then, when you’ve chosen what you want to buy, you have to pay for it, and then a porter comes and shifts the stuff to the car. You have to pay porterage on everything you buy.”

  “Porterage?” Richard asked. “Couldn’t we just shift it ourselves, and save the money?”

  “It isn’t worth it,” Peter said. “You have to pay it, anyway—it works out around threepence a sixpence a box of apples or whatever, and they’re pretty heavy. And look—it’s worth giving the porter a tip on top of the porterage charges.”

  “Why?” Richard was argumentative. “We haven’t money to burn, you know.”

  “I know, but if you don’t, they can hold your stuff up at the wholesale stand, and not get it out till last. You could be stuck till all hours of the morning.”

  “If you think we should, then we will,” Hilary said firmly. “Peter does know, Richard.” She turned to her brother. “I mean, if there’s anything he can tell us we don’t know, we’d be silly not to listen, wouldn’t we?”

  “All right,” Richard said unwillingly. Peter had been right about things so far after all. “Let’s go then. We’ll never get anything if we stand here nattering all morning.”

  Peter led them into the huge covered market. On each side of them as they came in through the big doors, alleyways stretched away, lined with open-fronted booths, each booth piled with boxes of fruit, the top boxes open and tipped forward to display their contents.

  Men in overalls were in each booth, while customers milled around in fron
t, peering into the opened boxes of fruit and vegetables, pinching and prodding the contents, smelling them, and arguing about prices with the salesmen. Most of the customers were men, and Jane blushed a little at some of the curious stares the overcoated buyers threw in the direction of the nine young people. Hilary, however, seemed blissfully unaware of the stares, and grabbed Barbara with one hand while pushing the others on their way.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s see what’s what.” She and Barbara disappeared down one alleyway, peering busily at the booths as they went. The others split up too, and went in different directions, Jojo pulling eagerly on Jane’s hand as he sniffed the fruit and vegetable smells that were almost thick enough to be tasted. Peter, after a moment’s hesitation, plunged after Hilary and Barbara.

  He caught up with them at a booth where Barbara was standing on tiptoe to look into a huge tray of grapes, while Hilary talked about pears to the man behind the piled boxes.

  “William pears, ducks?” the man was saying, his face alight with amusement as he looked at Hilary’s absorbed face. “Twenty-five bob a box—that’s forty pounds of pears. Sell 'em at a shilling a pound and you’ll get a nice profit. If you take ten boxes, I’ll knock off half a dollar every two boxes. Can’t say fairer than that, can I? Seein’ you’re a friend of old Yossell.”

  “Yossell said you’d look after us.” Hilary smiled up at the man, turning on her not inconsiderable charm, which she knew very well could get her what she waned—she had been getting her own way for a good many years now, just by being extra charming to people. “Make it half-a-crown off two boxes if I only buy five? We couldn’t sell four hundred pounds of pears, I shouldn’t think—and we’ll buy some grapes from you too.”

  The man threw back his head and roared with laughter. “You’re a right sharp one, aren’t you? he said. “Tell you what, I’ll let you have five boxes at twenty-four bob a box—mark them up at two bob a pound and that’ll show you a five bob profit on the lot.”

  “Ten pounds of grapes to a tray, is it?” Hilary frowned. “I think we’d have to make a bit more than that—look, let me have two trays at twenty-five shillings the pair. What do you say?”

  The man grinned again, but shook his head. “Not worth it to me, lovey. Thirty bob two trays—if you sell 'em at two and three, you’ll still clear 'em and make your bunce.”

  “Bunce?” Barbara asked.

  “Profit,” Peter said. Hullo, Hilary. I came to help, but you seem to be doing all right on your own.”

  “I’ll say she is!” the man said admiringly. “Born business woman this one. O.K. sweetheart. Five boxes Williams, two trays Almeria grapes.” He began to write out a bill on a pad he pulled from his pocket. “Pay over there, and I’ll see the boys shift your stuff soon. Where are you parked?”

  Peter came to her rescue. “Over by the far gate,” he said. “Old Singer car—what’s the number of it, Hilary?”

  “YUL 870,” Hilary said.

  “See the boys right, and the stuff’ll be there before you are,” the man said, and turned to a man in a flat cap and a raincoat who was waiting to buy grapes.

  Hilary went over to the little cash desk to pay for her purchases, Peter close behind her. It was only then that she realised that she had already overspent her six pounds, and still hadn’t bought bananas.

  “Oh, Peter!” she wailed, her face a ludicrous picture of dismay. “What’ll I do? I’ll have to give back some of the pears.”

  “Don’t do that,” Peter said quickly. “You’ve made a bargain, and he’ll get mad if you try to welsh on it—go back on it I mean. How much are you short?”

  Hilary looked at the bill. “Thirty bob,” she said. “The pears alone cost six pounds—and I haven’t even got the porterage, or the tip.”

  Peter dug into his pocket. “I’ll clear it,” he said. “I dare say the others will have change.”

  And pay he did, in spite of Hilary’s arguments. “It will be all right,” he insisted. “You’ve bought well, here. It looks like good merchandise, and you got a good price. Come on— bananas now.”

  Hilary gave in, and let Peter lead the way. Barbara, happily munching a huge pear the salesman had given her, followed them, waving to the salesman as they left, and promising to “come back tomorrow” to buy again.

  On the other side of the market, Richard and the boys were doing very well indeed. They had gone straight to the wholesaler Yossell had put on the list for apples, and were busily trying to decide whether to buy Sturmers, Worcesters or imported Granny Smiths. The salesman here too was very helpful, once they had told him they were buying for Yossell, and advised them to get one box of Granny Smiths. “For the nobs, these.” he said earnestly to Richard. “Put 'em in at two bob a pound, and they’ll sell. I promise you. And take three boxes of these Beauty of Bath— they’re a bit specked, I won’t deny it, but at a tanner a pound, you’ll soon shift 'em. And two boxes of small Worcesters at a bob a pound, and you’ll have a nice balanced stock, take my word for it, I know what old Yossell sells best, believe me, and this is just the stuff for you.”

  Richard did believe him, and paid up cheerfully, tipping the porter a couple of shillings as he did so for fast delivery.

  “He doesn’t look strong enough to shift a bag of fathers,” Philip said, staring at the wizened little porter.

  “Don’t you believe if, feller.” The salesman had overheard him. “'E’s been shifting this stuff since before you were whelped—and 'e’s tough as they come. Don’t you worry about 'im”

  Jane, too, was coping very well, in spite of Jojo’s tendency to try to buy everything in sight. She bought three boxes of oranges, one of grapefruit, and half a box of lemons, and found she had fifteen shillings left of her six pounds when she had paid for her purchases. She and John and Jojo made their way back to the car with light hearts, particularly Jojo, whose freckled grin had won him a gift of fruit from every booth they passed. By the time they got back to the car park, his pockets were full of apples and oranges and his face was smeared with the rich red a punnet of over-ripe strawberries one particular generous salesman had shoved into his wiling hands.

  It was half-past six by the time they all met at the car again. Piled high beside the car was everything they had bought, including a box of bananas that Peter had paid for. It took them half an hour to get Peter’s bike down and replaced on the rack with the fruit, all well lashed into place with the rope from the boot. When they had finished, Richard straightened his back with a sigh of relief.

  “Nice work, people,” he said. “How did the money go, Jane?”

  “I’ve got fifteen bob left out of my stake. How about you?”

  “Cleaned out,” Richard said cheerfully. “But I think I did well. How about you, Hilary?”

  Hilary blushed and looked miserable. “I’m awfully sorry,” she said, “but I overspent. Peter had to lend me some.”

  “You ass!” Richard said furious. “What did you want to do that for?”

  “I didn’t realise how much I’d spent till it was too late,” Hilary said apologetically. “I’m really very sorry.”

  “You should have given some of it back then!” Richard snapped.

  “If she had, there’d have been a row. These wholesalers get very peeved when someone goes back on a deal. It was better to take it—and she really got a very good price, Richard,” Peter said quickly. “I’m pretty flush this week— I can wait for the cash”

  “No need,” Richard said. “We’ve got £2 left— will that cover it?”

  “Yes,” Peter said before Hilary could open her mouth to speak, for she knew quite well that Peter had spent nearer £3, what with the bananas. “Exactly £2.”

  'Pay him, Jane,” Richard commanded. “And next time, Hilary, think a bit before you buy.”

  “Yes, Richard,” Hilary said submissively, and dimpled as she caught Peter’s eye. As far as Peter was concerned, that was well worth a pound or so, for he was beginning to find Hilary a very interest
ing girl indeed.

  “I feel as though I’ve been up for hours,” Stephen remarked as they all piled back into the car. “And it’s only seven in the morning!”

  “You’ll feel a lot tireder by lunch-time,” Philip said drily. “Something tells me the day’s barely begun yet.”

  But they sang all the way back to Camden Town, weaving their way through traffic that was now very thick, while Peter pedalled madly along behind the loaded car, thinking a little wryly of the long day’s work ahead of him at the supermarket.

  Chapter Six

  PETER had time to help them put the stall up in the shed before he had to go home to get ready for work, and the stall stood ready to be stocked by half-past seven.

  “I’d put the fruit out here, if I were you,” Peter had told Richard before he left. “There’s not a lot of spare space in the street itself, and it might get damaged there. It’s not too difficult to move her once she’s loaded.”

  This part of the proceedings had seemed so simple when they had thought about it before, but they found that piling the fruit up wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked. Hilary and Barbara struggled with the apples and pears, trying to make the neat conical piles that Yossell always had on his stall, muttering angrily under their breath as apples rolled and tumbled off the tops of their rather wobbly heaps. Jane and Philip managed rather better with their orange and lemon piles, because the rough skins of the fruit made them more likely to stay in place. Stephen, perched precariously on a pile of empty boxes, had a wonderful time putting hands of bananas on hooks and hanging them in a row on the top beam, while Richard and John stacked boxes of fruit on the shelf under the back of the stall, ready for replenishing the piles in front as the fruit was sold. Jojo’s job was to thread paper bags on pieces of string, to be hung along the sides of the stall ready to take customers’ purchases.

  By just before eight, they were ready. They stood back and looked at their handiwork breathlessly.

  “It doesn’t look quite the same as it did when Yossell did it,” Hilary said doubtfully. “But I s’pose it’ll do. What do you think, Richie?”