by Rosie Clarke
Jessie checked the times of the trains. It seemed that she had missed the fast one and the next available stopped at all the country stations. It would take forever to get back to London.
‘You would do better to stay overnight and take the morning train, miss,’ the friendly desk clerk told her.
‘Stay overnight?’ Jessie considered for a moment. Why not? She was free to do exactly as she pleased. She could take a room at a small guesthouse and she could go to the funeral. As a servant of the house she might not have been permitted to attend, but no one could stop her now. She no longer worked for the Kendles. They couldn’t tell her what to do anymore.
She would have to be careful, of course, make sure the family didn’t see her. She would sit right at the back of the church, choose a pew behind a stone pillar where she couldn’t be seen. And she would pay her respects at Jack’s grave when the family had gone.
It didn’t take Jessie long to find a pleasant guesthouse that had a room to let for two nights.
‘Are you on holiday, miss?’ the woman who ran it asked.
‘No. I was working near here but I left my job. I thought I would take a little holiday before I went home.’
‘Well, why not?’ the woman said and smiled at her. ‘I’m Bess Thompson. I don’t need anyone myself but there are several opportunities at the moment, if you don’t mind housework. It’s the Easter holiday season, you see. Everyone needs extra help for a few weeks of the year. Easter, Whitsun and the summer most of all.’
Jessie looked at her in surprise. ‘I hadn’t considered looking for a job here. Is it really that easy to find one?’
‘Just for a few weeks of the year. It’s like a madhouse, see, with so many guests and so much to do. My sister needs help in her kitchen at the moment, just for the washing up. She has a guesthouse just round the corner from me. I should think she’d be glad to take you on. It’s just temporary for a few weeks, mind.’
Jessie thanked her and said she would think about it.
She left her suitcase in the neat room upstairs, with its matching blue flowered bedspread and curtains, shining woodwork and plain brown carpet. Then she went out for a walk without bothering to unpack; that could wait for later. She needed to get some air, be by herself for a while.
The town was much busier than the last time she’d come, because she hadn’t bothered to take her afternoon off since the argument over that silly tea dance, preferring to snatch an hour for herself now and then when she could.
She wandered around the shops, lingering the longest in a craft shop selling beautifully made baskets and finally choosing one intended for needlework as a gift for her aunt.
‘That was made locally,’ the woman told her. ‘Unfortunately, we might not be able to get any more. The man who made them is having to give up because he can’t afford the rent of his premises.’
‘That would be a dreadful shame,’ Jessie said. ‘Something individual like this is really nice to have.’
After buying her basket she left the shop, deserting the crowded streets and walking up the hill that led to one of the main hotels; beyond that lay the winding cliff path with its spectacular views out over the sea. It was from there that she had seen Mary Kendle with her lover that day. If he had been her lover, of course. Jessie had never been sure, but the accusation had brought an angry reaction from Mary so it might well have been true.
Tears were stinging Jessie’s eyes as she walked. She blinked and rubbed her hand over her face, trying to keep back the storm of grief that overcame her. It was too powerful for her and she sat down on a bench halfway down the cliff path, letting her grief flow out as she wept.
‘Is something wrong, miss? Can I help?’
Jessie looked up into the face of a stranger. She took out her handkerchief and wiped her face, forcing a smile.
‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do.’
‘I’m from the Sally Army,’ the woman said. She took a card from her pocket and offered it to Jessie. ‘If you’re in trouble we may be able to help. You won’t do anything silly, will you? Nothing is ever quite as bad as it seems.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘We’re always there to help.’
‘Thank you,’ Jessie said and took the card because she didn’t want to cause offence. ‘But I’m really not in any trouble, just unhappy.’
‘Remember that God is always there to help.’
‘Is he?’ Jessie stood up. She was suddenly angry. ‘If he’s the same god who lets a little boy die from a stupid accident then I don’t care to know about him,’ she said and strode off without waiting for the woman to reply.
Jessie returned to the guesthouse and ordered tea. She ate tiny cucumber sandwiches and sponge cakes, then went to her room to unpack her case and write a letter to her aunt. She would tell her that she had left Kendlebury Hall and that she was going to stay in Torquay for a little while, but she wouldn’t tell her the rest of her news until she saw her.
*
Jessie waited until the church was almost full before slipping in at the back. No one seemed to notice her and she was able to hide behind a large carved stone pillar. When the funeral music was played, she hid behind the massive column until the family had passed. Harry and Carter were carrying the small coffin on their shoulders, Sir Joshua and Mary walked behind. It seemed that Mary Kendle had not invited any of her friends to her son’s funeral. She couldn’t see Lady Kendle with them, but perhaps she hadn’t managed to come; it would be difficult with her chair.
Harry’s face was deathly pale. He looked as if he hadn’t slept since he heard the news, his eyes red rimmed with weeping. Jessie’s heart went out to him and she wished that she could go to him as he sat down, sit by him and slip her hand into his. She couldn’t see Mary once they were sitting down, but she kept her eyes on the back of Harry’s head and she sensed his deep misery. It made her heart ache so much she wanted to cry out in her agony.
Throughout the service she could hear a drizzle of rain against the brightly coloured windowpanes of the old church. Even the weather was in mourning, Jessie thought, suffused with grief. Tears ran down her cheeks as Harry got up to say a few words about his son.
‘He was a ray of sunshine in all our lives,’ Harry said, his voice almost breaking. ‘God saw fit to take the sunshine away…’
Jessie didn’t know if he said anymore after that. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the waves of pain and hurt that washed over her as she absorbed Harry’s grief into herself. She hardly knew what was going on around her, but then the congregation were standing and the coffin was being taken outside.
Jessie sat on in church as everyone filed out, some to join the family as the child was laid in the ground, some to go home to their own families. Jessie sat on until the last, then she slipped out and found a spot where she could see the grave but not be seen by the man who was still standing there alone, his head bowed. He looked absolutely defeated and Jessie’s heart bled for him. She longed to go to him, almost did – and then Sir Joshua came back and took him by the arm, leading him away.
Jessie waited until she was sure the cars had gone, then she walked towards the open grave. The diggers were just beginning to fill it in but stopped respectfully as she walked forward, allowing her a moment to throw her rose onto the coffin.
‘Goodbye, my darling,’ she said. ‘Sleep in peace, Jack.’
Tears were sliding down her cheeks as she turned and walked away towards the railway station.
Chapter Fourteen
Jessie stayed in Torquay for three weeks, then, when she was sick for the third consecutive morning, she wrote to her aunt and told her she would be coming home at the end of that week.
She was going to have Harry’s child! The realisation was like a douche of cold water, bringing her to her senses in a flash. She had lost herself in drudgery these past weeks, scarcely leaving the kitchen of Mrs Cuthbert’s guesthouse as she fought to control her grief. Fo
r a while she had wanted only to numb the pain that had threatened to overwhelm her since Jack’s funeral. The sight of Harry’s lonely grief had been more than she could bear, but now she knew that she had to face the future.
Jessie believed that Aunt Elizabeth wouldn’t turn her away. She was luckier than most girls in her situation. Her aunt would be upset for her sake, but she wouldn’t condemn and she would do all she could to help her.
‘I shall be sorry to see you go,’ her employer said when she told her she was leaving but took her decision with resignation. Girls came and went in this job and it was part of running a boarding house. ‘If you’re down here next year I’ll be glad to have you again.’
Jessie smiled and told her she didn’t think she would be back the following year. It was a hard, thankless job and the wages were shamefully low, but she had been glad of aching feet and legs when she went to bed, glad that she was too tired to do anything other than fall asleep. There would be plenty of time to think when she got home.
*
‘I knew there had to be something,’ Elizabeth Pottersby said as she looked across the kitchen table at Jessie. ‘When you told me you’d left Kendlebury and were staying in Torquay for a while. I wondered why you didn’t come home.’
‘I needed some time to think,’ Jessie told her. ‘I didn’t even know I was pregnant when I left the family. That wasn’t the reason I didn’t come home straight away, Auntie. I just couldn’t bear the pain of losing the children.’ She hadn’t told her aunt about going to the funeral or the way seeing Harry standing there alone by the grave had torn her apart.
‘You say Captain Kendle made no attempt to contact you?’ Her aunt frowned. ‘You don’t think that he took the coward’s way out – let his wife dismiss you?’
‘Harry isn’t a coward,’ Jessie said. ‘He’s angry with me. He blames me for not being with Jack that day. If I had been it wouldn’t have happened and Harry’s son would still be alive.’
‘You can’t know that, Jess,’ her aunt said and looked at her sadly. Jessie wasn’t a fool but she may have given her heart too easily in this case. It was understandable. Her position with the children had made her vulnerable and some men took advantage of that. ‘If you’d prevented Jack from putting the jumps higher that time he would have found some way to do what he wanted. When someone is determined they usually do what they want in the end.’
‘Perhaps,’ Jessie said. ‘I’m sure that Harry went off as he did because he was in such turmoil. I don’t know how he felt when he came home and discovered I’d gone. He may have been relieved. Mary wouldn’t divorce him. I warned him of that in the first place, but he wouldn’t listen.’
‘So now you’ve come back and there’s a child on the way. It’s a pickle you’ve landed yourself in, Jess, and no mistake.’
‘I know.’ Jessie looked rueful. ‘I know I’ve been a fool and that I should have known better – but I loved him and…’
‘You thought it might be your last chance for a bit of happiness, your last chance to know what love was all about.’ Elizabeth nodded her understanding. ‘You regretted that you never had that with Robbie, didn’t you?’ Jessie agreed and her aunt smiled. ‘I can’t blame you for wanting some happiness, love. You’ve had a rough deal. There are hundreds of women like you. The war took their men and there’s little chance of them finding another. A whole generation was more or less wiped out. In your place a lot of others would have done the same.’
‘Harry loved me, I know he did,’ Jessie said. ‘I never believed that we could actually make a life together, even when he promised it to me. I knew that it was just a dream, but for a while I allowed myself to dream. He didn’t try to deceive me, Auntie. He really meant to do it – but he’s lost everything. I don’t know how he feels now.’
‘I’m more interested in how you feel,’ her aunt said. ‘What do you want to do, Jess?’
‘I want to keep the child,’ Jessie said. ‘I don’t want to have it adopted. I know the Sally Army would help, but I want to keep my child. If you don’t feel you can have us here I’ll find somewhere to live before then.’
‘That’s a daft thing to say. If I didn’t know that you had to make the offer I’d be insulted. Where should your child be born if not in your home?’
‘Oh, Auntie,’ Jessie said and went round the table to hug her. ‘What have I done to deserve you?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Elizabeth said and gave her a little push. ‘Don’t smother me, Jess. That’s settled then, and the teashop will be open in a week’s time so you’ll be working there until it becomes too difficult. We might have to get you a wedding ring when the baby is born, to satisfy the old tabbies, but otherwise I see no problem.’
‘Thank you,’ Jessie said. ‘And thank you for not telling me all the things you were entitled to say.’
‘It’s all water under the bridge now,’ Elizabeth said and smiled. ‘It will be nice having a child in the house again.’
*
‘So you’re back then?’ Eddie Robinson leered at her as she went into the suffocating heat of the bakery to fetch a tray of bread. It was opening day at the teashop and her aunt had ordered a special baking that morning. ‘Thought you were settled for life down there. What happened then?’
‘I changed my mind, that’s all,’ Jessie said giving him a cool stare. Eddie hadn’t changed and she knew she would have to put up with impertinent looks and comments from him once her condition started to show, but it was a part of the price she had to pay for taking her brief time of happiness with Harry.
She carried the tray back to the house, the freshly baked bread covered by a thin muslin cloth. Aunt Elizabeth had done a lot of baking herself that morning and trays of her special cakes were cooling on the pine table in the kitchen. It was all being collected together so that the man who worked for Archie at the bookshop could deliver it for them in his van.
‘Archie said it would be no trouble,’ Elizabeth told her when she asked how they were going to transport all the food daily. ‘I was going to hire someone to deliver for me, but Archie said his assistant would do it for a few shillings. Apparently, he does some deliveries for Archie too and it will all fit in together nicely.’
‘Have you met his assistant?’
‘Yes, once or twice when I’ve popped into the shop. I always take Archie a few cakes once a week, as you know, Jess. His assistant seems a nice enough young man – though I hope he gets that ink off his fingers before he carries my trays.’
‘Ink?’ Jessie was puzzled. ‘Why should he have ink on his fingers?’
‘Archie says he does a bit of printing for him in the room at the back,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Leaflets telling customers what they can find in the shop, I expect. He seems a lot busier these days, Jess, people in and out most days.’
‘The leaflets must be working,’ Jessie said and dismissed it from her thoughts.
However, when the small black van arrived a few minutes after her return from the bakery and the driver came to the door to collect the bread and cakes, Jessie began to think again. It was the man she had seen in Archie’s shop before she went down to Kendlebury, the man she had shared her lunch with on the train and met again in Torquay at that tea dance.
‘Oh, hello,’ Paul Smith said and smiled awkwardly at her as she answered the door. ‘It is you. I wondered when Archie Thistle told me you were living with Mrs Pottersby again. I work for Archie now.’
‘Yes, so I understand. My aunt was saying she hoped you had washed the ink off your fingers. We were wondering about those leaflets you print for Archie, but I don’t suppose we have to wonder anymore – do we? I’ve read some of the leaflets you distributed in Torquay.’
Paul frowned, his eyes narrowing as she spoke angrily. ‘Archie isn’t involved in any of that,’ he said. ‘Listen, Jessie. I heard about what happened down there and I’m sorry about that fire. That wasn’t my idea. I give you my word. It was some local hothead who went too far, that’s all.�
�
‘That’s all?’ Jessie was furious. ‘Do you know that a man lost his life – and Captain Kendle lost all the money he had invested in that workshop? And don’t say he could afford it, because he couldn’t. It may well have ruined him.’
‘Believe me, I was angry when I heard what had happened. We can do without that sort of thing. I didn’t want that to happen, you have to believe me, Jessie. We need people to listen and learn, to make peaceful protests – that kind of behaviour sets the cause back years.’
‘Has Paul come…’ Elizabeth was at the door. ‘Well, don’t keep him standing there, Jessie. We haven’t any time to waste.’
Jessie turned away, her face flushed. She still felt very angry with Paul Smith, knowing that the leaflets he had printed and distributed had been a major cause of the fire at Harry’s workshops. He was indirectly responsible for the death of Pam Bates’s husband and Harry’s loss, however much he denied it. But there was very little she could do about it for the moment. Archie had given him work so he must know what he did for the unions, perhaps he even supported it.
Jessie pushed her angry thoughts to the back of her mind. For the moment there was the teashop to think about. Her aunt had put a lot of money into setting it up and she needed it to be a success.
*
‘Well, I think we can say that that went very well,’ Elizabeth Pottersby said as she locked the door behind the last customer. ‘We’re all but out of bread and there isn’t a cake left in sight.’
‘Except this slice of apple pie, which I’m having,’ Jessie said and popped it into her mouth, biting into it with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘Of course it was always going to be a success, Auntie. How could it not be with your baking? We shall have them queuing up to order before long.’
‘I was a bit worried,’ her aunt confessed. ‘The profits from the bakery have been dropping a little recently, but this will soon put me on my feet again.’
Jessie was thoughtful. She knew her aunt trusted Eddie Robinson implicitly, said he was the best baker she’d ever had work for her, but Jessie wasn’t so sure. She had never liked or trusted the man and she wouldn’t put it past him to cheat her aunt – but perhaps that was just because she hated the way he looked at her. She mustn’t make hasty judgements, as she had earlier that day.
