by Joan Jonker
Ruthie though, crafty and with an eye to business, was only interested in one thing. ‘Will I get an extra penny pocket money now, our Jill?’
Molly was walking back from the corner shop when she saw Corker ahead of her, his seaman’s bag slung over his back. She hurried to catch up with him. ‘Back to a life on the ocean wave, eh, Corker?’
‘Aye, the ship sails with the afternoon tide, Molly.’ He swung the bag from his shoulder and set it on the ground. ‘If it weren’t for the money, I wouldn’t bother.’ He stroked his beard and grinned. ‘Terrible thing, money, isn’t it, Molly? The root of all evil.’
‘Aye, yer right there, Corker, but we’d be lost without it.’ She swapped the heavy basket to her other arm. ‘How long are yer away this time?’
‘Six weeks. I won’t be doin’ any long hauls again, not with me ma the way she is. I feel bad leaving her, but what can I do? The sea’s me life, it’s all I know.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on yer mother, Corker, like I did last time. Me an’ Nellie will take turns, make sure she’s all right. We do the same with Miss Clegg. It keeps us out of mischief.’
‘And Ellen?’ Corker raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘She’s been tellin’ me about what you, Nellie and Mary Watson have done for ’er. Without you, she said she’d be in the work-house.’
‘I can take a hint, Corker,’ Molly laughed. ‘I’ll make sure Ellen comes to no harm.’ She squinted up at him. ‘Yer know, I’m surprised no one has said a word about you an’ Ellen! Twice yer’ve taken her for a drink, and there’s not been a dickie-bird said. Either yer good at dodgin’ people, or they’re not as bad-minded as I thought.’
‘Yer know my feelings on what people think, Molly, I really couldn’t care less.’
‘I don’t suppose yer’ve been in to see Nobby again?’
‘No chance! That once was enough for me.’ He gave a low whistle. ‘I think Ellen’s right, the man is out of ’is mind. He never opened ’is mouth to me, just kept on staring. But I’ll tell yer this, Molly, and I’m serious, if he’d had a knife he’d ’ave plunged it into me, and laughed while he was doing it.’
‘I don’t know what’s to become of any of them,’ Molly said. ‘I feel so sorry for Ellen an’ the kids, but what can I do?’
‘You’re doin’ enough, Molly, and I’m grateful to you. Pass my thanks on to Nellie as well, will yer?’ Corker picked up the ropes tying the top of his bag, lifted it from the ground and swung it over his shoulder. With a smile on his ruddy face, he bent and gave Molly a peck on the cheek. ‘There, that should give the neighbours somethin’ to talk about.’
‘See yer soon, Corker.’ Molly watched him walk away. ‘Take care, now!’
‘You too, girl! Ta-ra!’
Jill stepped off the tram in Dale Street, trembling and feeling sick inside. Steve was right, she should have stayed at Allerton’s. She’d been happy there, surrounded by warmth and friendliness.
‘It’s too late now,’ she told herself as she turned the corner into Castle Street. ‘As me mam said, I can’t put the clock back.’
Jill gazed at the first-floor windows of the buildings she passed until she came to the one she wanted. Printed on the glass in gold lettering were the names Pearson, Sedgewick and Brown. Solicitors. Taking a deep breath and pushing her hair behind her ears, she mounted the stairs.
‘Good morning, Miss Bennett. I’m Joan Sutton, Mr Sedgewick’s secretary.’
‘Good morning.’ Jill shook the outstretched hand. The woman looked to be about thirty, with mousy, marcel-waved hair and a pale face devoid of make-up. She was wearing gold-rimmed glasses. She looked very efficient in her navy blue skirt and white tie-neck blouse, but Jill thought she had a kind, understanding face. ‘I’m very nervous,’ she confessed.
Joan Sutton took an instant liking to the shy girl. ‘There’s no need to be,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll look after you. Come on, I’ll show you which office you’ll be working from. Mr Sedgewick doesn’t come in until half-nine, so I’ll have time to explain our filing system to you.’
Jill followed closely, too frightened to let her eyes linger on the other girl she could see sitting at a desk in one of the offices they passed. In her heart she was saying a prayer, please God, don’t let me make a fool of myself.
Joan Sutton knocked on a door before throwing it open. ‘Mr Miles, Miss Bennett is here.’
The young man finished what he was writing before looking up. When he saw Jill he jumped to his feet. ‘Hello, I’m Miles Sedgewick.’
Jill swallowed hard. He must be Mr Sedgewick’s son. ‘Jill Bennett.’
Joan Sutton was pulling a chair out from a desk at the opposite side of the office. ‘This is your desk, Jill, you can put your belongings in a drawer. The files are kept in here,’ she pointed to a row of cabinets, ‘so you’ll be working in here until such time as one of the partners may need you. Now, while you’re getting settled in, I’ll nip back to my office and finish a letter that urgently needs to be sent out this afternoon. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’
When the door closed, Miles smiled across at Jill. ‘Welcome to the firm.’
He can’t be much older than me, she was thinking, and he’s very good-looking. ‘Thank you, Mr Miles.’
‘Miles will do. And may I say that coming to work in future will be a much more pleasant prospect.’
Chapter Seventeen
‘Will yer keep still!’ Half a dozen straight pins were clamped between Doreen’s lips, muffling her voice. From her kneeling position on the floor she glared up at Jill, who was standing on a kitchen chair. ‘How d’yer expect me to get the hem right when yer keep twistin’ around?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Jill stood to attention, her head held high, her back ramrod straight. She had on the dark brown straight skirt Doreen had made for her. It was almost finished now, only the hem to sew when Doreen was satisfied it was even all around. ‘You’ve made a good job of it, Doreen, no one would dream it was home-made.’
‘I should hope not!’ Doreen scrambled to her feet. ‘Turn round slowly.’
Molly sat looking on with interest, fingering the skirt of the dress her daughter had made for her. It was a navy blue cotton, covered in tiny white spots, and she was delighted with it. At this rate, the second-hand Singer treadle sewing machine she’d bought for ten bob four weeks ago would soon have paid for itself. Doreen had certainly lived up to her claims to be a good machinist. And she could cut from paper patterns as though she’d been doing it for years. In fact, Molly told herself, for a kid not yet fifteen, she was brilliant.
‘You can sew the hem yourself, Jill, it’s not hard. Just make sure the stitches don’t show through.’ Doreen was feeling very pleased with herself. It was her turn to be the centre of attention and she was loving every minute of it.
‘Come on, Maureen, on the chair.’ Doreen slid some pins from a strip of paper. ‘Let’s see how yours is for length.’
Doreen’s friend was a pleasant, happy girl, and Molly had taken to her the first time she’d seen her. But since the machine came, Maureen was at their house every night and there was no peace. If the sewing machine wasn’t whirring away, the table was cluttered with paper patterns and the two girls would be laughing and chattering as they cut away at the material. They bought remnants from Blackler’s, and could make a dress for about one and six and a skirt for less than a shilling.
‘I’ll sew it tomorrow night.’ Jill draped the skirt carefully over her arm ready to take upstairs. ‘I promised Steve I’d go for a walk for half an hour.’
When Jill was out of earshot, Maureen bent down and whispered, ‘He’s dead handsome, Jill’s boyfriend, isn’t he? Like a film star.’
Doreen whispered back, ‘Keep yer eyes off ’im, Maureen Shepherd! If our Jill doesn’t want ’im, I’m next in line.’
Jack was supposed to be reading the Echo, but when a smile crossed his face Molly knew he was listening to everything that went on. He looked up and caught her eye, winking as much as
to say, ‘Some hope they’ve got.’
At half past nine, Maureen glanced at the clock and sighed. ‘I’d better be makin’ tracks. Me mam does her nut if I’m not in by ten.’
‘I’ll walk to the tram stop with yer.’ Doreen reached for her cardigan. ‘Stretch me legs.’
‘Just ’old yer horses, the pair of yer.’ Molly pointed to the scraps of material littering the floor, and the paper patterns strewn across the table with reels of cotton and loose pins. ‘Who was yer servant before I came along, might I ask? Now get this place tidied up before yer go anywhere. It looks like a muck midden.’
When they’d gone, the place looked more like home. Molly poked the fire into life and drew her chair near. ‘Yer can tell winter’s on its way, the nights are drawin’ in and it’s nippy out.’
‘When are we goin’ to have the place to ourselves again?’ Jack asked, turning the page of the Echo. ‘We always seem to have a houseful.’
‘The novelty will soon wear off,’ Molly laughed. ‘But I hope it’s not too soon. Our Ruthie’s waitin’ for a new dress. I’ve got to get a pattern when I go to the shops, an’ if it hasn’t got a sticky-out skirt there’ll be blue murder.’ She flexed her fingers before holding her hands out to the flickering flames. ‘I can’t get over our Doreen. For a kid of ’er age she’s not half clever with her hands. I remember me ma sayin’ Doreen would surprise me one of these days, an’ she was right. I’m real proud of her.’
‘She certainly made a good job of that dress yer’ve got on. It looks a treat on yer.’
‘That’s what Nellie an’ Mary said. I haven’t mentioned it to Doreen yet, but they want me to ask if she’ll make them one. They said they’d pay ’er for it.’
‘It’s a way of making herself a few bob, I suppose.’ Jack folded the paper carefully before putting it on the couch. ‘Mind you, I don’t fancy havin’ people traipsing through the house every night, we’d never have any privacy.’
Molly glanced at the paper. ‘Anythin’ in the Echo worth reading?’
‘Nowt but trouble,’ he said. ‘The way things are goin’, there’ll be another war before long.’
‘Oh, ay, Jack, don’t say that! The last one was supposed to be the war to end all wars.’
‘Mark my words, Molly, the way Germany is building its armed forces up, they’re gettin’ ready for war. If we can believe the stories that are coming out of Germany, about the way the Jews are being persecuted, that Hitler is a monster. I wouldn’t trust ’im as far as I could throw him.’
‘He wouldn’t try anythin’ on with us, though, would he? Surely the man’s not that stupid, not after we beat them last time.’
‘He’s already taken over the Sudeten an’ got away with it. Now he’s got his troops massed on the border of Austria, and I’ll bet a pound to a penny it won’t be long before he invades that country.’
Molly stared into the flames. ‘If there was a war, you wouldn’t be called up, would yer, not at your age?’
Jack shrugged his shoulders. ‘I dunno! In the last war they called all the young ones up first, but it wasn’t long before men of my age were being conscripted.’
‘It doesn’t bear thinkin’ about.’ She ran her hands over her thighs. ‘Why do we ’ave to ’ave wars? Why can’t we all live together in peace?’
‘Because there will always be people like Hitler, love, greedy for power. Right through history it’s been the same.’
‘I hope to God you’re wrong, Jack. Our Tommy’s only a kid now, but in a couple of years he’d be old enough for the army.’
Jack cursed himself for taking the smile off her face. Why hadn’t he kept his thoughts to himself? ‘Don’t start worryin’ about something that may never happen, love. Hitler’s probably got more sense than I’m givin’ him credit for.’
‘Someone should shoot ’im,’ Molly said, grinding her teeth. ‘If I ’ad a gun, I’d do it me bloody self!’
Steve laced his fingers with Jill’s as they walked down the street. They saw each other every night without fail, sometimes just for half an hour if Jill wanted to wash her hair. Apart from Saturday when they went to the pictures, they would go window shopping or, if the weather was fine, they’d walk through the park. Jill was earning more money than Steve and could have afforded to go to the pictures more often, but knowing how proud he was, she never suggested treating him.
‘How did work go today?’
‘Smashing! Mr Brown’s secretary was off sick so I did all his letters. It’s the first time I’ve worked for him, and he was very nice.’ Jill squeezed his hand. ‘It made a change from filing all day, that gets very boring.’
Steve tried to keep the words back, but couldn’t. ‘And ’ow is your Mr Miles?’
‘Will you stop calling him “my Mr Miles”?’ Jill regretted ever telling Steve about sharing an office with Miles. If she’d known he was going to be so jealous, she would have kept quiet about it. ‘We work together, that’s all!’
Steve caught her around the waist and pulled her to him. ‘I can’t help being jealous of him bein’ in the same room as you all day.’
‘And I’m fed up telling you, there’s no need to be jealous! He’s a nice bloke, we get on well together, but that’s all!’
‘Okay, don’t bite me head off! I was only kiddin’!’ I’m a liar, Steve admitted to himself. I’m as jealous as hell and can’t talk myself out of it. ‘I can think of nothin’ I’d like better than to sit all day just lookin’ at you.’
Jill stopped dead in her tracks. ‘If you think that’s all Mr Miles has got to do, you’re crazy! He’s training to be a solicitor, being articled I think they call it, and he studies very hard. He’s twenty now, and he’s still got years to go before he qualifies. So he’s got more important things on his mind than sitting looking at me all day, even if he thought I was worth it.’
‘He ’asn’t got a girlfriend, though, has he?’ Steve knew he was going too far, making a mountain out of a molehill, but he couldn’t help himself, his jealousy knew no bounds. ‘Most men I know his age are courtin’ strong.’
‘Perhaps he’s more interested in making something of himself than he is in courting.’ The second the words left her lips, Jill was wishing she could take them back. She knew they had hurt Steve, she could tell by the look on his face, and the last thing in the world she wanted to do was hurt him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did.’
‘You must ’ave been thinking it, or yer wouldn’t have said it.’
‘But you keep winding me up, always talking about Mr Miles! I’m your girlfriend, we see each other every night, so why keep harping on someone you don’t even know?’
This was the nearest they’d ever come to arguing and Steve knew it was all his fault. If he didn’t watch it, keep his feelings under control, he’d lose her. ‘I’m sorry, love, I went too far.’ He managed a smile. ‘Forgive me?’
Jill gazed into his handsome face. ‘I’ll forgive you where thousands wouldn’t.’
‘That’s my girl! Now, let’s go and look in the shop windows, see what we’d buy if we ’ad the money.’
Molly was on her knees scrubbing the front step with a donkey stone, while at the same time holding a conversation with Nellie. ‘I’m waitin’ for the coalman, he’s late today. I don’t want to miss him ’cos I want ’im to throw an extra bag in, get a stock up for when the bad weather comes.’
‘Good idea, I think I’ll do the same.’ Nellie leaned against the wall, her arms folded beneath her mountainous bosom. Although it was a cold day, she only had a short-sleeved cotton dress on, with a wrap-around pinny over it. She never seemed to feel the cold, always said she had enough fat on her to keep her warm. ‘It’s bound to go up a copper or two when the winter comes.’
Molly sat back on her heels, a grin on her face. ‘Remember when the kids were little an’ we ’ad to count every penny? Many’s the time we borrowed a shovelful of coal off each o
ther.’
‘Yeah,’ Nellie grinned back, ‘they were the days. We were happy though, weren’t we? Didn’t ’ave a ha’penny to bless ourselves with, some days, but we still ’ad a laugh.’
‘And the odd fight,’ Molly chuckled, putting the donkey stone down and dipping her hands in the bucket of water at the side of her. Wringing out the floor-cloth, she grinned up at Nellie. ‘We used to be fightin’ over the kids, nearly tearing each other’s hair out, and while we were goin’ at it, high ding-dong, the kids had made it up and were playin’ together.’
‘Yeah, the neighbours used to come out an’ watch.’ There was a tender look on Nellie’s face as she gazed down at Molly, now wiping the floor-cloth over the step. ‘But we never really fell out, did we? We’d be callin’ each other fit to burn one minute, then the best of mates the next.’
Molly threw the dirty floor-cloth into the bucket and struggled to her feet. ‘I was all mouth, Nellie! If it ’ad ever come to blows, I’d have been away like a shot. One blow from you an’ I’d ’ave been out for the count.’
Nellie screwed her eyes up, squinting down the street. ‘Isn’t this Ellen?’
Molly picked the bucket up before turning her head. ‘Yeah, she’s late today, must have been to the ’ospital.’
The smile Ellen raised was an effort. Her head was splitting, as though someone had tied a band around and was slowly tightening it until she felt like screaming. ‘Busy, Molly?’
‘Yeah, the step was filthy. Mind you, it’ll be as bad as ever by tomorrow.’ The bucket of water was heavy so Molly set it down before rubbing her hands down the front of her pinny. ‘Been to the ’ospital, Ellen?’
‘Yes, worse luck.’ She pulled a face. ‘I was dead chuffed on me way there, ’cos Mr Fletcher from the Maypole asked me to work an extra hour every day. It’s a few bob extra every week and I was made up. But I might ’ave known Nobby would spoil it for me, like he’s spoilt everythin’ since the day I married him.’
Molly and Nellie exchanged glances. They could see Ellen was near to tears and wondered how much more the poor woman could take. ‘Molly, put the bucket in the ‘all and come an’ have a cuppa with me.’ Nellie took Ellen’s arm. ‘You too, Ellen.’
