The Diary Of Pamela D. by greg monks Read Free Book Online Page B

and
ran-’
    ‘Hello, hello, and what have we here?’ It was
the big blonde fellow from the farm, who stood over the two women,
leering at Pamela. He was obviously a bit drunk.
    ‘Get lost, Albert,’ Mrs. Pascoe said. ‘We’re
busy talking, and you’re obviously busy getting stewed to the
gills, so go back to it.’
    ‘I jus’ want to have a word with Miss Prissy
Pants,’ he said, sitting down beside Pamela, leaning over her and
trying to put his arm around her. When she flinched away he only
laughed and put his arm around her. ‘We’ll have none of that!’ he
said, drunkenly. ‘Come on, lass, how abou- ow, OW!’
    Pamela had taken two of his fingers and bent
them backwards. She then scooted away from him, put her back to the
wall, and used her legs to push the loutish Albert unceremoniously
off the seat onto the floor, prompting a couple of staff members to
investigate.
    ‘He bothering you women?’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘He is!’ the two women said together.
    ‘Come on, you,’ the barkeep said, ‘sit down!
And not with the women! Go back to where you were, with your
friends. Once more and you’ll be out of here for good.’
    As Albert was led away, Mrs.
Pascoe said to him, ‘Little kittens got claws sometimes, Albert,’
prompting him to make an obscene gesture. ‘Don’t worry about him,’
she told Pamela. ‘He’s not a bad fellow, really. He’s just a wee
bit . . . coarse . I
liked the way you handled him, though,’ she added with a wide grin.
‘You should have hauled off and nutted him a good one. I’d’uv paid
good money to see that!’
    ‘ That bitch, Miss Prissy Pants, she’s the one as broke my
fingers . . . ’
    The two women shared a look and, along with
Albert’s companions, burst into laughter.
    ‘Well, so much for a quiet time,’ Pamela
said.
    ‘ She
did! She broke my hand- no, my fingers. Right here,
see?’
    This was received with more unsympathetic
laughter.
    ‘Poor Albert doesn’t seem to have a very
receptive audience, does he?’ Mrs. Pascoe said. ‘I do wish he’d
shut up! How’s your pastie?’
    ‘Hot!’ Pamela said, only
having managed a nibble or two so far. ‘By the way, I don’t quite
get this exchange thing. How much is a British pound worth, exactly?’
    ‘As compared to what?’ Mrs. Pascoe said,
dryly. Then, she told her.
    ‘I spent how much? Oh, no! Mrs. Dewhurst’s
going to be so mad at me-’
    ‘Don’t be daft! You were
supposed to spend all of it! Mrs. Dewhurst, indeed.’
    This last remark was utterly lost on Pamela,
who looked in her purse and estimated how much she had left.
    ‘What in Heaven’s name is wrong now?’
    ‘This can’t be right,’ Pamela said, her face
pale. ‘This is more money than I’ve ever made in-’
    ‘As I said before, “Don’t be
daft!” “Mrs. Dewhurst” gave you that money to spend because he-
she, rather, cares about you. Spend it. It’ll make her feel good, as well as yourself.
For God’s sake, luv,’ she said, reaching across and sorting out
some of the girl’s unruly curls, said, ‘you’ve got to understand
that you’re living with people who care about you, who’ll do more
than just talk about it. Besides,’ she added with a wicked grin,
‘if some of what you got doesn’t catch Mr. Theo’s eye, nothing
will.’
    ‘He doesn’t even like me,’ Pamela said
quietly. ‘He always makes me feel like an intruder . . . which I
am, sort of-’
    ‘Stop talking nonsense! You don’t know what’s
going through that head of his. Theo just isn’t very good at
showing how he feels.’
    ‘Yes, well he doesn’t seem to have any
difficulty showing how he feels when he’s angry with me.’
    ‘Anger, that’s easy,’ Mrs. Pascoe said with a
wry smile. ‘Love, on the other hand- that can be very hard.’
    ‘Love?’ Pamela said. ‘He doesn’t seem to have
any trouble expressing his feelings to his mother.’
    Mrs. Pascoe gave her a wry look. ‘This isn’t
exactly his mother we’re talking about,