LITMIR.BIZ

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on Thursday evening, critically gazing at her effort before mixing more watercolours. Like Miss Rosen, this teacher was pleased with her work, and one day Pearl hoped to progress to oils. She had done a wash for the sky, satisfied with the stormy effect, and now raising her brush she attempted a tree. As this was an autumnal scene, in her mind’s eye she imagined a high wind blowing, so she bent the tree, making it skeletal with few leaves clinging to the branches. As she stepped back a pace, the woman at the next easel spoke.

      ‘I wish I could get the hang of doing that. Mine never seems to turn out right.’

      Pearl wandered across, seeing that the woman had fashioned her tree with a huge trunk and a mushroom of bright green growth sprouting from the top. All right, it wasn’t very good, but what did it matter? She had seen that the elderly lady loved the classes.

      ‘It looks nice,’ Pearl smiled.

      ‘Leave it out, love, it’s rubbish.’

      The teacher came to their side, her head cocked as she surveyed the old lady’s attempt. ‘Not bad, Mrs Fox, and you’re coming along nicely.’

      ‘Do you think so? Well, thanks very much, but I wish I could paint like this young lady.’

      ‘Keep up the good work and you will.’

      She then wandered on to the next easel, the old lady winking at Pearl. ‘Yeah, and pigs might fly too.’

      Pearl grinned as she went back to her own work. She loved the mixed ability classes, finding everyone so friendly. Picking up her paintbrush again, she buried herself in the countryside scene.

      The time flew past and to Pearl her painting wasn’t quite finished. She was still daubing, still endeavouring to get it just right when the teacher came to her side.

      ‘Well done, my dear,’ the woman said softly, ‘but know when to stop. You’ll spoil the effect if you overwork it, and anyway, it’s time to go home.’

      ‘Is it?’ Pearl said, becoming aware of the noise in the room as people prepared to leave. She hurriedly packed up too, and as she left the class, there was a smile on her face. She was following her dream at last, a dream that one day her painting would be good enough to exhibit.

      Pearl stepped outside to find Derek waiting for her. ‘Watcha, love,’ he said, leaning down to plant a kiss on her cheek before taking her things to carry. ‘I finished early at the gym so thought I’d come to walk you home.’

      She clutched Derek’s arm as they walked along, pleased to see him, and glad that she had learned to relax when held in his arms. She still didn’t enjoy his kisses, finding it hard to respond, and so far, fearing being alone with him, she hadn’t invited him up to her room.

      There was only one person who marred her contentment, and that was Kevin Dolby. For some reason he had taken to chatting to her, often asking her how things were going with Derek, but she couldn’t understand why. He’d teased her once, asking if she wanted to be his girl, but she knew he was just making fun of her. He was so good-looking and there was no way he’d be interested in her, but still her stomach filled with fluttering butterflies every time she saw him. Oh, she didn’t want to think about Kevin; it only made her unsettled.

      ‘How did your class go?’ Derek asked.

      ‘It was fine, and I’m learning so much.’

      They continued to chat, Pearl enthusing about her art teacher, and when they arrived at Battersea High Street, Pearl unlocked her street door. She took her things from Derek, smiling up at him. ‘Thanks for walking me home, but there’s really no need.’

      ‘I don’t mind,’ he said, eyes soft as he leaned down to kiss her, lips soft and moist as they settled on hers. ‘’Night, Pearl. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

      ‘Yes. ’Night, Derek.’ Pearl said, relieved that he didn’t expect more.

      She watched him walk away, his arm lifting in a small wave, before she went inside and climbed the stairs to her bedsit. The house was quiet as Pearl flopped onto the side of the bed, eyes looking up to the ceiling. Mr Bardington had stopped his pacing and she rarely saw the man. In fact, he had become so quiet that she often forgot he was in the building. Like her, he was an outsider. Still, now that she was courting Derek, the locals were coming round and warming to her.

      Pearl kicked off her shoes and went to make herself a drink, but soon after drinking it, she heard noises from the street, people shouting. Puzzled, she went over to the window to see a crowd of about twenty people. In the dim light from a street-lamp she spotted Derek amongst them and threw up the window.

      ‘Derek. What’s going on?’

      He looked up. ‘Come down, Pearl.’

      She threw on her shoes and dashed downstairs, Derek coming straight to her side. ‘I was on my way home when I met up with this lot. Eric’s missing. Have you seen him?’

      ‘No. Oh, Derek, it’s after ten o’clock. Where can he be?’

      ‘I dunno. He didn’t come home from school and, as you can see, a lot of people have rallied round to search for him. They’ve looked everywhere but are running out of options.’

      ‘Have they tried Battersea Park?’

      ‘I dunno, but we couldn’t cover an area of that size. What makes you think he’d go there?’

      ‘There’s a lot to attract kids, but it was just a suggestion. Anyway, if the police have been told, they’ll probably cover it.’

      ‘Yeah, they’ve been told, but not until after eight o’clock. Frank was hoping he’d turn up before then.’

      Pearl saw Frank Hanwell, his face drawn with worry. ‘Eric! Eric!’ he shouted, his eyes frantically searching the dim High Street. ‘Where are you, you little bugger?’

      ‘Frank looks awful. Is there anything I can do to help?’

      ‘You can join us on the search. Apparently he’s not at any of his friends’ houses, and to be honest, I don’t know where we’re trying next.’

      Pearl walked with Derek to Frank’s side, the man’s eyes wild as he looked at them. ‘I can’t understand it, Derek. He’s never done this before.’

      ‘Don’t worry, Frank. The police are sure to find him, even if we don’t. Pearl has suggested Battersea Park and she could be right.’

      ‘Eric wouldn’t go to the park on his own. Lucy would kill him and he knows that.’

      ‘He’s just a kid. Think about what you got up to as a nipper.’

      Frank’s shoulders slumped. ‘All right, we’ll try there.’

      It was after one in the morning before they gave up, footsore and weary as they trudged home.

      Derek once again walked Pearl to her door, and after giving her a swift hug he said, ‘Try to get some sleep, love. The police are still looking, and maybe there’ll be good news in the morning.’

      Pearl was so tired that she could barely respond. ‘Oh, I hope so, Derek.’

      They said good night, Pearl almost staggering up to her room, but despite her exhaustion it was some time before she was able to sleep. The police would find Eric – they just had to. Behind closed eyes, tears gathered as she pictured the boy’s beautiful face.

      Nearly a week passed and there was still no sign of Eric. Frank’s stall stood empty, the man incapable of running it and, trying to rally round as much as possible, the other costermongers set it up for him, working it between them to make sure the man had an income.

      Frank’s wife, Lucy, hadn’t been seen, and rumour had it that she was in a terrible state. Eric was their only child, the love of their lives, and amongst the gossip in the café there was a lot of sympathy for the couple.

      Gertie was also badly affected. She lived next door to the Hanwells

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