by Kitty Neale
Chapter 11
The next morning, Mary cleared the breakfast things and, as soon as Mr Burton Blake left, dashed upstairs to make his bed. She then ran up to her room to get her coat before going to find Miss Constance. She found her in the drawing room, looking morosely out of the window, her shoulders stooped. ‘Are you all right, Miss?’ Mary asked.
‘What?’ she turned. ‘Sorry, yes, I’m fine.’
Now that she was leaving, Mary felt emboldened and said, ‘You don’t look it. You look proper miserable.’
‘My father is being so cold and hard, Mary. I told him the date of the wedding, and all he said was that I should make sure all my things are packed ready to move out that day.’
‘Once you marry a man, I should think it normal that you move in with him.’
‘Yes, I realise that. It’s just my father’s attitude, and he still won’t take me to see my mother.’
‘He’ll come round,’ Mary said, trying to sound reassuring, but really she still envied Constance. She fancied Albie, but now he was getting married, she had no option but to put him out of her mind. ‘Anyway, Miss, me and Ethel are going out this morning.’
‘Really? Where are you going?’
‘As you heard, your father told Ethel that she’s got to leave so we’re going to look at some flats. Please, Miss, would you mind keeping it to yourself? We don’t want to get into trouble with your father for taking extra time off.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t say a word, but I’ll be sad to see Ethel go. She’s always been so kind to me.’
Mary didn’t tell Constance that she was leaving too. That was something she might tell her father, and to be on the safe side Mary wanted to make sure they had a flat to move into before she handed in her notice. ‘Yeah, Ethel’s a good woman, but I’d best be off, Miss.’
‘Bye then, and I hope you find somewhere nice for her.’
Mary nodded and then hurried down to the basement where Ethel handed her a plate of toast and jam.
‘Here, get that down you,’ she ordered.
‘I could kill for a cuppa too,’ Mary said before she bit into the toast.
‘There’s tea in the pot so help yourself while I go and sort out my coat and bag.’
Mary nodded and soon Ethel was back, wearing her grey coat and turban-style felt hat. The coat was straining a bit across her tummy so Mary guessed it had been a while since she’d last worn it. She was a bit worried when she saw how Ethel had to squeeze her feet into her shoes and asked, ‘Are you sure you’re all right to walk across the common? It’s quite a way.’
‘I’ll be fine, but it’s a good job we’re not going after I’ve been on my feet all day. I doubt I’d make it then.’
Mary shoved the last of her toast in her mouth and gulped it down, aided by a slurp of tea. ‘Right, I’m ready,’ she said, throwing on her coat and wrapping a scarf around her neck.
It was cold outside, and they walked across the common as fast as Ethel could manage. Thankfully the letting agency was open and soon they were telling the portly man behind the desk what they were looking for.
‘I’ve got a few flats I can show you. I’ll just get my assistant to mind the fort and then I’ll drive you to have a look at them.’
Ethel and Mary exchanged smiles. They were going to be driven around and that was a proper treat. The agent grabbed sets of keys and then led them to his car that was parked at the back of his office. ‘Your carriage awaits, ladies,’ he quipped, opening the back door.
They clambered in, and once seated Ethel grabbed Mary’s hand to give it a squeeze. For Mary this felt like a proper adventure, and as the car drove off she grinned widely.
‘The first property is on Fitzwilliam Road, just a five-minute drive,’ the agent said.
‘I hope it has two bedrooms,’ Ethel remarked.
‘Yes, of course. It’s what you asked for. It’s in a nice road too,’ the agent replied, then went quiet as he began to manoeuvre the car around a corner. It wasn’t much longer before they turned into the road and as they drew up outside a tall house he said, ‘Here we are.’
Mary got out of the car and held the door open for Ethel, who got out and stood looking up at the white three-storey house with stairs leading up to the front door. ‘It looks a nice place, but what floor is this flat on?’ she asked.
‘It’s on the top floor.’
‘In that case, forget it. I won’t be able to cope with all the stairs,’ Ethel said.
‘You didn’t tell me that stairs could be a problem. Does this mean you don’t want to look at it?’
‘There’s no point. Ain’t you got any ground-floor flats?’
‘Only one, I’m afraid.’
‘Right, well, we’d like to see that one then, please.’
‘Luckily it’s one I have the keys for, but as you don’t want stairs it’s a case of this one or nothing,’ the agent said as he held the door open for them to climb back into the car.
Once settled, Ethel asked, ‘Is it far from here?’
‘It’s about ten to fifteen minutes’ drive. It’s just off the Northcote Road, and close to the market.’
‘That sounds all right,’ Ethel said. ‘I like the market, and from what I remember there are a good few shops too. How much is the rent?’
‘Seven pounds a week.’
‘That sounds reasonable,’ Ethel said, pleasantly surprised.
‘It’s also furnished.’
‘Even better,’ Ethel said, now wondering what the catch was as she took in the passing streets.
When they arrived outside the house, this time Ethel found herself looking at a two-storey dwelling with a small front garden. ‘Well, it certainly looks all right from here,’ she mused.
‘I think you’ll be mostly happy with the interior too,’ the agent said as he opened the street door to let them in.
Ethel wondered what ‘mostly’ meant, but as they wandered from room to room, she and Mary turned to smile at each other. The bedrooms were a decent size, both with utility wardrobes along with dressing tables, and the mattresses looked clean. ‘Look at them, Mary. They’re in good nick so we’ll only have to buy some bedding.’
They moved on to see the kitchen was well equipped, and when Mary opened the cupboards she said, ‘Ethel, everything we need is here, china, cutlery, saucepans and more.’
‘That’s good and from what we’ve seen I don’t reckon we could do much better that this.’
‘There is one downside,’ the agent said as he opened the back door. ‘This property has an outside toilet, but that is reflected in the low rent.’
‘I thought there’d be a catch, but let’s take a look,’ Ethel said, and for the first time since they came into the property she felt less than pleased.
As they went through the back door, the agent showed them the small outhouse. Mary looked inside, then stood aside for Ethel. She pursed her lips but then said, ‘Well, it isn’t as bad as I feared. It’s a proper toilet with a chain flush and the walls seem solid enough. Does this mean there isn’t a bathroom either?’
‘I’m afraid not, but you can use that tin bath,’ the man said, pointing to one hanging on a hook in the yard.
‘Bloody hell, I thought those days were long gone,’ Ethel said, but when they went inside again for a second look at the rooms, her shoulders lifted. ‘Well, Mary, what do you think? Could you put up with an outside toilet and tin bath?’
‘Yeah, of course. It’s not as if it’s at the bottom of the yard. It’s only just outside the back door and as for a tin bath, I reckon that wouldn’t be so bad.’
‘Right then,’ Ethel said, turning to the agent. ‘We’ll take it.’
‘Good. I’ll drive you back to my office where we can fill out the necessary paperwork. I’ll need a deposit and a month’s rent in advance.’
‘That’s fine,’ Ethel agreed.
Mary was almost skipping with excitement when later they walked back across the common. Ethel looked chuf
fed too. They were to move in next week, and Mary couldn’t wait to see the master’s face when they both told him they’d be leaving.
Charles saw a private client, then went to the hospital to see his wife and her consultant. Once that duty was out of the way he would visit Jessica. He’d been surprised by her outburst the day before and hoped to find her in a better mood. She’d called him a snob, and, thinking about it, maybe to her he was. It was all down to class, and standards of course. As for marrying Jessica if he was free, of course he wouldn’t. She was his mistress and hardly the type of woman he could introduce as his wife. Likewise he’d expected his daughter, if she married, to choose a man of her own social standing, but instead she’d given herself to Albie Jones, a scoundrel who’d been easily bought.
Once Constance married the man she would leave the family home, and wouldn’t be welcomed back. Constance had shamed them – tarnished their family name – and though he’d kept his feelings contained, inwardly Charles was hot with anger.
When Charles went into Hettie’s private room he saw that there was no change. If anything, she looked worse, even more pale and tired. However, when he spoke to the consultant, he felt reassured to be told that though the transfer had tired her, her condition was stable. Charles sat with Hettie for a while, but there was no reaction when he spoke to her, and feeling it a waste of time he left to see Jessica, hoping to find her mood improved.
He needed an outlet for his frustration and would find it in her bed. However, when Charles arrived at the flat at two-thirty, he found it empty. He suspected that after yesterday’s outburst, Jessica was comforting herself by shopping, and his Harrods account was taking another hit. Oh, well, he thought philosophically, with Hettie ill and as yet no sign of a recovery in sight, any plans he had to take Jessica on a European tour had to be put on hold. That would save him a pretty penny, but then he’d have the added expense of employing a nurse for his wife.
With a sigh, Charles sat on the sofa. God, he was tired, and closing his eyes he took a nap, waking an hour later to find that Jessica still hadn’t returned. He ran a hand over his face then decided to go home. He’d come back to see Jessica after he’d visited his wife again that evening.
Charles drove home to find his daughter sitting in the drawing room. ‘Daddy, please,’ she said, ‘will you take me to see Mummy?’
‘Not yet. I’ve had her transferred to a private hospital and she’s very tired,’ he said curtly. ‘Also, seeing you might upset her.’
Constance didn’t argue; she just nodded and then said, ‘Ethel wants to talk to you.’
‘Really? Do you know why?’
‘No, she didn’t say,’ Constance said evasively.
Charles felt she was hiding something, but he was in no mood for games and went down to the basement. ‘Ethel, I hear you want to talk to me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘I’ve found somewhere else to live and I’ll be leaving first thing on Monday morning.’
‘What? But that’s in less than a week.’
‘I’ll be leaving too,’ Mary said, stepping forward.
‘Why? You haven’t been given notice.’
‘I don’t like the hours, sir. I’m working from dawn to dusk and it ain’t fair.’
Charles’s lips tightened. ‘Very well, but as you both haven’t given me sufficient notice, you won’t receive your full month’s wages.’
Ethel shrugged. ‘That’s no more than I expected.’
Inwardly fuming, Charles stomped upstairs. He’d expected a month to sort out new domestic arrangements. As if he didn’t have enough disruption to put up with, he’d now have to get on to an agency to find replacements.
It didn’t seem possible that less than a week ago his life had been orderly, but now it was in total disarray.
Jessica woke and was horrified to find herself in her old bedroom, her head sore and her hands tied to the bedposts. As her memory began to return she recalled being in Hackney, leaving a pub and walking down an alley on her way to the next one. It was then that she felt a blow to the back of her head. That was the last thing she remembered, and moving her head she groaned with pain. Shortly after she heard footsteps and tensed with fear. Her father must have done this. He must have knocked her out and somehow dragged her home. When the door opened and her father came in, she shrank inside.
‘So, you’re awake. You thought you’d got away from us, but I knew we’d get you back one day. It’s taken seven years, but we’ve got you now,’ he said, his dark eyes gleaming in triumph.
‘Let me go, Dad, or I’ll scream the house down.’
‘Try that and I’ll give you a beating you won’t forget.’
‘You can’t keep me here. Someone must have seen you dragging me home and they’ll report what they saw to the police.’
‘Nobody saw me cosh you, and I told anyone who saw me holding you up on our way back here that you were drunk.’
‘I hope there was someone who didn’t believe you.’
‘Nobody grasses round here,’ he snarled.
Jessica feared he was right and said desperately, ‘I’m not a child now, Dad. You can’t keep me here against my will.’
‘You had no right to run off. Without your wages coming in, you left me and your mum in a right state.’
‘You treated me like a bloody slave, taking every penny I earned.’
‘That was my right,’ her father growled.
‘No, it wasn’t. You’re supposed to be the man of the house and you should have provided for at least yourself and Mum,’ Jessica told him, but as soon as the words left her mouth she knew she’d made a mistake. Her father’s face suffused with rage and when the punch came it made her cry out in agony. That blow was followed by another, then another, pain ripping through her face and body until everything darkened and she knew no more.
‘You’ve been a bit heavy-handed, Ron,’ Ida said to her husband when she walked into the room.
‘She deserved it.’
‘I think you should let her go. Now that she’s been living her own life away from us, she ain’t gonna be pliant any more.’
‘Then she’ll have to learn to be pliant again and a few more beatings should see to that.’
Moments later, the crash as the front door was kicked in resounded through the house and both Ida and her husband froze. Before they had time to react, boots pounded up the stairs and then a large man’s frame filled the doorway. As his eyes took in the scene, he yelled, ‘You bastards.’
‘Oi, get out of my house,’ Ron protested.
‘Try and make me,’ the man barked as he shoved Ron to one side. ‘Look at her. I could bloody kill you.’
Jessica groaned as he unfastened her ties and said, ‘It’s all right, my lovely, I’m here now.’
‘Er–Eric …’
‘Yes, it’s me, love.’
‘How … how …’
‘I was in the area, looking up some old mates, and luckily someone told me what they saw. I’m getting you out of here.’
‘You can’t just walk in here and take my daughter,’ Ron objected.
‘Try and stop me,’ he growled. ‘From the look of her, your daughter needs to be taken to hospital, and you might find yourself nicked for battering her like this.’
‘I’m her father. I’ve got every right to chastise her.’
‘Chastise her!’ Eric yelled. ‘Is that what you call it? Right, you little shit, come here and I’ll chastise you in the same way. We’ll see how you like it.’
‘I could call the rozzers.’
‘Yeah, do that. I’ll wait here for them to arrive, and when they see the state your daughter is in it’ll be a pleasure to see you carted off in cuffs.’
‘Leave it, Ron. Let them go,’ Ida urged.
Eric leaned down to pick Jessica up, and holding her in his arms he looked at her parents with disgust, growling, ‘Get out of my way.’
They moved aside, and he carried Jessica down
the stairs.
Once outside, Jessica croaked, ‘No hospital, Eric. Just take me home.’
‘You need looking after.’
‘I … I’ll be all right.’
‘What’s your fancy man going to say when he sees you in this state?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’ll take you to my place for now,’ Eric said, and soon they were in a taxi heading back to Battersea.
Despite being in so much pain, Jessica was thrilled to see Eric, and so grateful that like a knight in shining armour he had come to her rescue. As the taxi carried them away from Hackney, she found it difficult to focus as pain racked her body.
The journey was a long one, so when the taxi pulled up outside a house she was barely aware of the room that Eric carried her into, only conscious of being put gently onto a bed before blackness engulfed her once more.
Chapter 12
Charles woke on Wednesday morning and, remembering the previous evening, his mood darkened. He’d briefly visited Hettie and then went to see Jessica, only to find that she still wasn’t home. Annoyed, he’d sat and waited and drunk a couple of whiskies, but at ten-thirty there was still no sign of her. With no idea where Jessica was, or who she might be with, Charles had left, angrily thinking that he wouldn’t put up with this sort of behaviour.
He threw back his blankets and went to the bathroom where he washed and shaved. He would have to get on to the domestic agency after breakfast, and hoped they’d have suitable candidates to replace Ethel and Mary.
‘Daddy,’ said Constance as soon as he walked into the breakfast room, ‘I know you said I must leave home when I marry Albie, but wouldn’t it be better if I stayed to look after Mummy when she comes out of hospital?’
‘I’ll hire a nurse to do that.’
‘But surely she’d rather have me looking after her.’
