‘But this is proper sit-down fish and chips. On a plate. With a knife and fork.’

‘They taste better in newspaper,’ Mark muttered.

‘That’s just silly,’ she said, but afterwards thought that he was probably right. Somehow the chips were duller without the smell of newsprint.

‘So, my girl, now that you’ve proved you’re a clever clogs after all, how’s about going to college next year?’ Pa said, after they’d ordered.

‘It doesn’t start till September, so I’ve still got time to think, haven’t I?’

‘And while you’re thinking, what are you going to do with yourself?’ Ma asked. ‘You could earn some money, for example. What about waitressing? In a nice place, mind, somewhere like here, clean with a decent class of clientele who tip well. Let’s ask the manager before we leave.’

‘No, Ma, please don’t. You’re so embarrassing.’

Two weeks later, Kath found herself kitted out in a black shirt and skirt, with a frilly white pinafore and a stupid little starched white cap pinned precariously to her head, ready for what the manager called a ‘trial day’ at the Alexandra. ‘If you’re any good we can offer you a few shifts a week between now and Easter,’ he said. ‘Once the holiday season kicks in there’ll be plenty of work.’

After her first shift she dragged herself home, swearing never to return.

‘My feet hurt, my arms hurt, everything hurts,’ she groaned, collapsing onto the settee. ‘The manager is a grumpy old bastard and the diners are miserable. They complain all the time. I ran myself ragged all day and got just one and six in tips.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ Ma said. ‘Just think of the new clothes you’ll be able to afford, come the summer.’

Kath did get used to it. In fact, as she gained experience she even began to enjoy her new skills: how to lay the tables in the right arrangement for breakfast, morning coffee, lunch, afternoon tea or supper, how to carry four filled plates at a time, ranged up each arm, how to serve vegetables with a spoon and fork, always from the left side, or from the right for drinks and ready-plated food, being able to describe each dish on the menu fluently and learning the daily specials off by heart.

She liked the other waitresses too, especially Nancy, who had a wicked sense of humour and kept them all in fits when business was slow, describing her romantic escapades. A couple of years older than Kath, she was one of the most experienced members of the waiting staff, having been at the Alex, as everyone called it, for nearly a year.

Nancy was not exactly pretty, more what they called ‘striking’ with her unusual height – at least five foot ten, Kath figured – and gold-blonde hair with a natural wave. At work she wore it up, of course, but at the end of a shift when she freed it from numerous kirby grips, her curls cascaded down her shoulders like a Hollywood starlet.