Free Angelique by Carl Leckey Page A

for the drivers. Why not buy your own Taxi and operate without him?”
    He points out. “It’s all a matter of hackney carriage licences Adam. The council only allow so many licences and he has it sewn up. Where would I get the money from anyway?”
    “Hmmm it’s a pity you are not in France. I could do with a few more experienced drivers. The pay and conditions are good.” Norma interrupts me.
    “You could do with more drivers? What do you mean?” Hurriedly I reply. “I mean the company I work for. They are short of good drivers. There are quite a few of us English lads stayed over after the war and settled down with local girls.” He answers ruefully. “No chance of that. I wouldn’t mind living anywhere to get a good job. My Misses wouldn’t move from Birkenhead. She even considers Liverpool a foreign country. Talking about my Misses I better get going. I like to see the kids before they go to bed. Do you want my Taxi in the morning or not?” He stands up drains his glass and prepares to leave.
    “Pick me up at the hotel at nine in the morning. By the way how many kids have you got Norman?” He sticks three fingers up. I gasp when he reveals how many kids he has. Norman is only a few years older than me and yet he has a family. Wouldn’t my Wife envy him? I have the money and no chance of kids he has hardly any money and kids galore. He sees the astonishment on my face and confesses. “We had two before I joined up and one since I came home, er and I think she’s up the chute again.” He adds a little peevishly. “Seems I only have to drop my kecks and she is in the family way.”
    I congratulate him he informs me in a lowered voice. “There is not much else to do on cold nights if you have no money.” Norman smiles as he leaves the pub.
    After he departs there seems no point in remaining in the pub on my own. I drain my glass and am ready to leave when one of the local floozies approaches me. She is a nice looking girl around about my age. Although in my opinion she wears too much makeup. Who am I to judge? Maybe the over application of makeup is a tool of her trade making her distinguishable to her potential clients. I notice a couple of the other working girls appear to indulge in the same practice. I admit I have a lot to learn about the ways of the world. She introduces herself by asking. “Want to buy a nice girl a drink sailor boy?”
    I have to smile as I reply. “Sorry love I am not a sailor and am just leaving.” Without invitation she sits next to me on the bench pinning me in the corner thereby blocking my escape. “I’ve not seen you in here before. Travelling salesman are you? My name is Hilda by the way.
    What do I call you?”
    Without pausing or waiting for an answer she asks. “Well are you going to buy a girl a drink or what?”
    As it is only early and I have no intention of utilising her service but why not enjoy her company for a while.
    The barman is collecting pots I request him to bring Hilda what she drinks and I order another pint for myself. I open the conversation by stating. “To answer your questions Hilda, my name is Adam, no I haven’t been in here before. And I am not a travelling salesman.
    Hilda I hope you don’t mind but I am happily married. Now you can either keep me company until you spot another more promising client or you can have your drink and let me leave. It’s entirely up to yourself but I don’t want to see you wasting time on me.”
    She smiles. “OK Adam it’s nice to meet an honest man. If you don’t mind being seen in my company I will do what you suggest. Bless me I could do with a rest it’s been a busy day.”
    The drinks arrive she enquires. “I can tell you are a local lad Adam. Accents are my hobby you see.” She hesitates then adds. “But you have a little twang hard to place but I would guess you have a touch of French about you. Go on tell me where you come from?”
    I laugh and explain “Very good Hilda I was in France