Paradise Court

by Jenny Oldfield

  ‘Well,’ he said in a low voice, ‘the one I have in mind is the one your Amy had that bother with.’

  ‘Teddy Cooper!’ Dolly gripped his arm. ‘You ain’t stringing me along, Robert Parsons?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die, Dolly. Daisy told me about it herself. And anyhow I seen it with my own eyes; Teddy Cooper in a taxi with her, Wednesday of last week I think it was.’

  For a second Dolly sat there stunned. The others considered it, willing to give it a hearing. Teddy Cooper’s reputation was very poor, spreading beyond the sweatshops, amongst all the factory and shop-girls. He was after anyone he could lay his hands on, the younger the better.

  ‘’Struth! Where was he last night, does anyone know?’ Liz Sargent asked.

  ‘He was at the Gem,’ a cool voice said. Maurice Leigh felt all the women’s eyes swivel and fall on him. ‘He came to see the new Karno picture. I remember seeing him there, clear as day.’ His comment was greeted with hostile silence.

  Jess quickly rescued him from their disappointment. They could turn ugly if he went and ruined their nice theory. Maurice hadn’t got their measure yet, otherwise he would have spoken more tactfully. ‘About what time did the picture finish?’ she asked, knowing that cinema shows often turned out early.

  ‘Ten o’clock,’ he confirmed. ‘There was a couple of shorts on first, and then the Karno. That lasts forty-five minutes, so I can get them all out by ten. I turned off the lights at a quarter past.’

  ‘See!’ Dolly recharged her battery. ‘Plenty of time for him to gallop up to the Palace. Who was he with, do you know?’

  ‘Not with a woman, if that’s what you’re getting at,’ Maurice said. ‘I had a word with him and a bunch of his mates. Said they’d come into town to give my new place a try out. We been open a week, that’s all. They seemed pleased as punch with it.’

  The women nodded, warming to the well-informed newcomer. ‘Thanks, Mr Leigh. So, we know for a fact he’s got in with Daisy. We know he had time to go over and meet up with her.’ Dolly paraded the evidence. ‘And of course we all know what he’s bleeding well like!’ By now she was willing to swear on the Bible that Teddy Cooper was the one. Her hatred of him ran deep. ‘There’s nothing’ll stop him and his filthy tricks!’

  The others sat silent and sympathetic. In their minds too Teddy Cooper, the boss’s son, leapt from womanizer to murderer in one easy bound. ‘And of course Daisy was a lively girl with a bit of a temper herself. It ain’t as if she’d take it from him if it didn’t suit her,’ Annie chipped in. ‘What I mean to say is, the girl could put up a fight.’

  ‘She could,’ Robert agreed. ‘Poor cow.’ With his forearms folded along the hooped back of the wooden chair, he rested his chin and foil silent.

  ‘So!’ Dolly took it up again. ‘She puts up a scrap and it turns nasty. Only he’s not like other blokes. He’s a devil when his temper goes. He snaps and comes at her with a knife. It’s all over in seconds.’ She led them through the scene. By the end, the jury didn’t even need to go out. ‘He’s guilty as sin, I’m telling you!’ Dolly declared.

  ‘Don’t tell us, tell the coppers!’ Liz suggested. ‘They ought to know about this.’

  ‘They been round?’ Dolly asked.

  ‘Only to the O’Hagans’ place,’ Annie reported.

  ‘They talk to you at the Palace last night?’ Dolly asked Robert directly. ‘Did you think to mention Cooper’s name?’

  ‘The state Hettie and me was in, we never even thought to mention our own bleeding names!’ He got up to go. ‘I wouldn’t pin too many hopes on the coppers, though. Not if I was you.’

  ‘How come?’ Dolly was all for marching up to the station and laying a charge.

  Robert shrugged. ‘I dunno. I just got the feeling they wasn’t that interested.’

  ‘The poor girl’s lying there dead!’ Annie protested. ‘What d’you mean, not interested?’

  ‘But they never knew her. To them Daisy’s just another chorus girl up the Palace, a girl who made a careless slip, worse luck. It ain’t nothing to them. They seen it all before.’ He went off to help Joxer shift some barrels.

  The women looked downcast. ‘She weren’t just another chorus girl to me,’ Annie remarked. ‘She was a beauty, was Daisy.’

  ‘And what about her poor bleeding mother?’ Dolly added. ‘It’s broke her poor heart!’

  ‘Ssh!’ Jess warned from the bar. She’d heard Ernie’s footsteps coming down, unmistakably jerky and heavy. ‘Ern feels real bad about Daisy,’ she explained to Maurice. ‘He worshipped her, poor lamb.’

  Maurice watched as Ernie came into the bar, head down, avoiding people’s eyes. He realized at once that the kid was slow; you could read it in the angle of his body, with its slight forwards tilt, and the way his face looked somehow open and unguarded. He was tall and well built, not gawky like so many of the other simple-minded kids round the streets, and he kept himself clean and tidy. His thick, dark hair was well cut, his white shirt starched, his boots polished. The family evidently did a good job of keeping him in trim and looking after him.

  ‘Ern, this is Mr Leigh,’ Jess said gently as he came and waited at her side. ‘Mr Leigh’s just moved in with the Ogdens.’

  Maurice shook the boy’s hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  Ernie nodded and looked back at Jess.

  ‘I better see what Pa’s got lined up for him to do,’ she said. ‘He ain’t feeling himself today. None of us is.’

  She linked up with her brother and took him down to the far end of the bar where the old man showed him the tray of dirty glasses to wash.

  Maurice sat and studied the family group; the grey-haired landlord once probably strong as an ox, now in decline, but still upright and smart, the salt of the earth. There was the boy, led by the hand, made in the same mould as the father and older brother, but raw and unfinished. And the daughter. Maurice stared for a long time at Jess; not flashy, not even aware of how nice looking she was. She was patience itself with the boy, and gentle. She wore her brown hair high on her head, but little wavy strands escaped and curled against the nape of her neck. She wore a dark-blue blouse, high-necked, with a cream flowered pattern, nipped in at the waist. Finding him watching her, she smiled self-consciously and put a hand to the stray strands of hair. Maurice looked away. If he wasn’t careful, she’d get through to him in a serious way and undermine his motto. No complications, he reminded himself. New job; plenty to do, places to go.

  Little Katie O’Hagan came up to the corner of the court at six as arranged. Hettie was waiting with a cardboard box full of smocks, trousers, socks and boots; all the assorted belongings that the women of the street had been able to muster. ‘We ain’t having them going up before the Officer at a time like this,’ Hettie insisted. The Relief Board was notoriously unsympathetic towards people like the O’Hagans, who couldn’t join in the panel schemes for those who paid out national insurance contributions and who weren’t eligible for any of the benefits so far introduced by liberal governments. So Hettie even persuaded some of the men to dip into their pockets to help save Daisy from a pauper’s grave. She appealed shamelessly to their guilt. ‘C’mon, Walt,’ she cajoled Robert’s friend. Things ain’t as bad as all that if you can pay good money to go down Milo’s every other day and beat each other’s brains out!’ She collected the money, together with the clothes, and brought them down to the waiting girl. ‘Tell your ma I’ll be down with a bit of something extra in the morning,’ she told her. She planned to go round the market stalls for damaged fruit and veg. ‘And you be a good girl, Katie, and help her all you can.’

  The girl nodded, wide-eyed. Daisy used to come home and tell them all about Hettie; how kind she was, and what a nice house she lived in. Cathleen walked off a few steps with the huge box in her arms, turned round and smiled.

  Hettie stood on the corner, watching her down the narrow court. Women stood or sat at their doorsteps in the evening sun, following the girl with their eyes. Chil
dren stopped playing as she passed. The bright light cast long shadows until, at the bottom of the court, the two black, towering tenement buildings swallowed the sun, and Cathleen stepped into their gloom, her grubby smock ghostly. Then she vanished up the narrow stairs.

  Hettie went slowly up to their own comfortable living room, where the sun shone and life followed its natural rhythm. The window was raised for Jess to stand and give Grace a few minutes’ fresh air, cradled in her arms.

  ‘I been thinking, Ett,’ she said. She looked out across Duke Street at the row of small shops; Edgars’ Tobacconist’s advertising Navy Cut and Flaked Virginia, Powells’ ironmonger’s, Henshaw’s eating-house and grocer’s shop. ‘Nice as it is, I can’t go on like this.’

  Hettie looked alarmed. ‘You ain’t thinking of leaving us again, are you, Jess?’ She was closest to her in age; there was only a year between them, and though their personalities were opposites, a strong bond held them close. Ever since Jess had come home, Hettie had looked to her for company and advice. Besides, there was little Grace to fuss over and adore. ‘What’s wrong? Ain’t you settled here?’ She went across and stood by the open window.

  ‘That’s just it, I’m more than settled.’ Jess sighed. ‘Pa’s been better with Grace than I ever dreamt. He won’t hear a word against her.’

  ‘And no wonder,’ Hettie put in. ‘She’s an angel.’

  ‘And the rest of you, you’ve been grand too. No, I ain’t gonna leave again.’ She smiled at Hettie’s relieved face. ‘But I gotta do something to get a bit of money coming in. I tried talking to Pa about it, but he don’t want to know. I mean it though, Ett, and last night, before this terrible thing with Daisy came along and hit us like a steam engine, I sat here and had an idea.’

  Hettie heard the excitement in Jess’s voice. Everything was changing for the sisters; Frances seemed to be backing out of the heart of family life after all these years in charge. Jess had mellowed into motherhood overnight. Sadie was all talk of Charlie Ogden, and was growing up fast. And now Hettie herself had chucked her job and stood at a crossroads. ‘Go on then, I can see you bursting to tell me,’ she said, breathing in the warm air. ‘How you gonna earn your pot of gold, Jess?’

  ‘It ain’t worth a fortune, don’t get me wrong. But it’s a start. I want to take in a bit of sewing work; alterations and mending. I’ll advertise in Henshaw’s window and get people to bring their stuff along here. That way there’s no trouble getting Grace seen to. What d’you think?’ Jess looked nervously at Hettie. ‘It ain’t a stupid idea, is it?’

  ‘It ain’t stupid,’ Hettie said slowly. ‘But it ain’t exactly the Post Office telephonist or the typewriter Frances had in mind.’

  ‘Frances is Frances,’ Jess said firmly, ‘and I’m me. It’s good-hearted of her to look out all these job advertisements for me, but honest to goodness, Ett, I don’t feel like going out all day and leaving Grace with someone else. No, I know what I want, and that’s to be a proper mother to my baby. She ain’t got no father, and that’s a fact. All the more reason for me to stay home, I say. So you see, the sewing work suits me down to the ground. I can hand over what I earn to Pa, and I’ll feel we can stay here long as we want, Grace and me!’

  By the end of the long, heartfelt speech, Hettie found herself smiling broadly. ‘Good for you, girl,’ she said, turning with a swing of her skirt and striding to the middle of the room. ‘Tell you what, Jess, let’s be partners, you and me. Business partners. I can come in with you if you like. If two of us take in work, we can get through twice as much and make a name for ourselves twice as quick. “Them Parsons girls do a good, quick piece of work, very neat and tidy!” That’s what they’ll say. We’ll be snowed under with work before we know where we are!’

  Jess beamed back at her. ‘You sure, Ett? It’s a bleeding big jump from the bright lights to this.’

  ‘Good thing too,’ Hettie said. ‘I’d had enough prancing about up there. What happened to Daisy was the last straw, but how much longer can a girl go on kicking her legs about every night, without landing on the scrap heap?’ She stood looking at Jess, challenging her to contradict.

  ‘Ett, you’re not even twenty-six till next birthday! You’re in your prime!’ Jess laughed.

  ‘Says you.’ Hettie’s light-hearted manner subsided again. ‘But honest, what happened to Daisy made me think. It ain’t a proper life, Jess. There’s gotta be more to it than that, ain’t there? As a matter of fact, I think I know what it is!’

  ‘What?’ Jess lay the sleeping baby in her crib and came back.

  ‘I ain’t saying. You’ll think it’s daft.’

  ‘No I won’t, Ett. Go on, I’m listening.’

  ‘No, honest. I got something in mind, but I want to keep it to myself. Sorry for dragging it up.’ Hettie struggled to change the subject. ‘Listen here, am I in with you on this sewing lark or not? You can be the boss, since it’s your idea. I’ll be the skivvy. How’s that?’

  ‘Oh no, equal partners!’

  ‘Right you are!’ They shook hands and straight away set about drafting a card to put in Henshaw’s window. ‘Ern can take it across for us tomorrow morning,’ Hettie suggested. ‘You write it out neat, Jess, with all the charges made up in a proper list.’

  They only stopped work when Duke rushed upstairs late in the evening. They raised their heads in surprise at the sound of his steps.

  He came into the room, arms raised wide, his face delighted. ‘Girls,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a bit of good news!’ Propped against the mantelpiece, he could hardly contain himself. For months he’d been worried about Robert; nor enough work down the docks, too many scraps and bits of bother. Now the problem was solved in the best way he could imagine. Duke’s heart swelled with pride. ‘I just been talking to Robert,’ he told them. ‘The boy’s been keeping something from me, but he just give me the news and it couldn’t be better. Tomorrow morning he’s going for his papers. You know what that means, don’t you, girls? It means he’s enlisting. He’s going to join in the war effort and fight for the King!’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Later that week, as September rolled steadily on, Charlie Ogden stood staring long and hard at the poster roughly pasted on to the red pillar-box at the top of the court. The initials ‘G.R.’ sat either side of the King’s coat of arms, above the giant black lettering. ‘Your King and Country Need You!’ He read that 100,000 men were needed in the present grave emergency. ‘Lord Kitchener is confident that this appeal will be at once responded to by all those who have the safety of our Empire at heart.’ They wanted only men at least five foot three inches tall, with a chest measurement of at least thirty-four inches, both of which qualifications Charlie proudly met. But you had to be nineteen. He was just sixteen. Charlie’s heart fell. It would be all over before he got the chance to serve. The army offered him no escape from the present misery at home. Even lying about his age wouldn’t work; Charlie had one of those fair, smooth-skinned faces with small features, and his physique, though tall, was slender. The army would have to be desperate before they overlooked his birth certificate and accepted him for duty on the Western Front.

  ‘Hello there, Charlie!’ Sadie threw open the window and leaned out. Downstairs, everyone was hard at work preparing to give Rob a grand send-off. Even Frances had left work early to come and lend a hand. ‘Wait there a sec.’ She disappeared from view and soon joined him on the street-corner.

  ‘You’re not thinking of enlisting, are you, Charlie?’ she said breezily. ‘Ain’t one soldier in the street enough for you, then?’ She linked arms and kept him company to his front door.

  ‘I’d go like a shot if they’d take me.’ Moodily he kicked the bottom doorstep. ‘Fighting in France is better than living in this dump.’ Maurice Leigh might suit his mother, with his polite ways and his rent paid in advance, but sleeping in a room with Amy was a terrible indignity for Charlie.

  Sadie sighed. ‘And here’s me thinking you was studying hard so you could leav
e home and go to college.’ His bad moods unsettled her. For her part, just seeing him pass by or walking with him up to school was enough to lift her spirits for the day, while their Sunday bike rides made the whole of life worthwhile. She never fell into these gloomy spells, and wondered why Charlie couldn’t just sail along on her cloud with her.

  ‘I am,’ he said, head down, scuffing the step.

  ‘Well, then, ain’t no point going off to France and getting yourself shot at, is there?’

  Charlie looked up with a patient but stern expression. ‘Answering the call to arms is a very fine thing,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I know it, Charlie.’

  ‘It’s terrible being too young to serve.’ He sat on the step, hands clasped and resting on his knees. ‘All our best men are going out there, Sadie. And you know what, Mr Donaldson told us at school today that they’ve shipped more than fifty thousand horses across the English Channel to France. It’ll be all over by Christmas.’

  She nodded, secretly glad that Robert wouldn’t have to see much fighting by the sound of it. He’d signed up and got his uniform, but there were a few weeks’ training at his barracks near the south coast before he went off to save Paris for the French. Would you like to come to our Robert’s send-off?’ she asked. It starts at six tonight.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He shrugged.

  Feeling snubbed, Sadie backed off. ‘Well, then, I gotta go.’

  No answer from Charlie, who’d resorted to notions of following Tommy O’Hagan’s lead and simply vanishing as an answer to domestic problems.

  Then Sadie made the common woman’s mistake of pressing harder for a small commitment from him when the best tactic was to withdraw. ‘But you’ll still come on our bike ride this Sunday, won’t you, Charlie?’ There was an edge of panic in her voice. What had happened to him, and all his kisses and promises?