The Extraordinary Adventure Of Albert Buckle - Part Two

Rolling heath gave way to the empty streets of Kentish Town. Stopping to catch his breath, hands on thighs, Albert decided it must be earlier than he had thought. The only proof that the world still turned was a milk cart disappearing round a bend in the road ahead. Feeling ludicrously cheerful he set out in search of breakfast.

The windows of Pandora’s Cafe winked to Albert, one blind still drawn down, the other wound up with a flourish to reveal a portly waitress behind the dimpled glass. Her hairdo had the quality of an architectural structure, grand and immobile, a small white cap fastened just above the forehead with a horde of bobby pins. Reaching out a stout hand she flipped the ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ and waved him inside.

Albert smiled, hesitant to speak having not heard his own voice in so long. ‘Anywhere you like, lovey’, she said, a sweep of the arm taking in the six rickety tables. ‘I thought you might be in early today. I’ll just get the urn going’.

‘In early?’ thought Albert, choosing the window seat. He must have been here before but the place seemed unfamiliar. The dusty ledge at his side was ornamented with dead moths and mildewed paperbacks. Selecting one, he stretched his legs expansively and leant back to study the text. ‘The Extraordinary Adventure Of Albert Buckle’ he read, thinking it a good title, a title likely to capture the reader’s attention.

‘Having the usual, sweetheart?’ the waitress called from behind the counter. Deciding to try out his voice he replied, ‘Why not!’ The sound was robust and deeper than he had anticipated. He felt the day was getting better by every moment and wondered happily what breakfast would consist of.

The waitress lent heavily across the counter, a stately bosom pushed almost to her ample chin; ‘Pearl’s bringing in the package, she shouldn’t be long.’ ‘Oh, good’, replied Albert, deciding to play along with this comical game. She sauntered over and placed a cup and saucer on the table with a bowl of sugar cubes. ‘Just how you like it’, she winked.

He could smell violets and starch and something he couldn’t quite identify. He stared at the row of rings like ligatures on her puffy fingers, a diamond as big as the Ritzy. ‘Betrothed?’ he asked, dropping a lump into the steaming tea. ‘Ha!’ she laughed, ‘five times over. Four came to nothing, one still pending.’ Taking a sip he thought the tea as good as any ever made.

‘And what happened to you?’ she inquired, grabbing his hand to examine the inflated thumb. ‘Good lord, it’s bigger than a baby’s rattle!’. When he explained about the bee she clicked her tongue, ‘Poor chap. I’ll put some vinegar in an egg cup, you must dunk it in’.

The vinegar arrived along with two poached eggs and a round of buttery toast. At the same moment the row of bells above the door jangled and in walked Pearl, dressed in a flowery cotton frock, a head full of honey-colour curls and skin like skimmed milk; quite the most beautiful girl Albert had ever seen.