Paradise Court (24 page)

Jess smiled and nodded. Charlie, who thought it was a bad idea,
was soon overruled. Sadie left with a long face, pleading for half an hour more, but soon they were out in the cold, windy street, huddling together and half running for warmth, until they came under the railway arch on to Duke Street, when Maurice and Jess chose to walk diplomatically ahead, leaving the young couple to their midnight kiss.

‘Don't she look lovely tonight?' Jess glanced back, then slid her arm close inside Maurice's. ‘Ain't no wonder he's smitten, poor boy.'

Maurice glanced back. ‘Hm. He's more smitten with himself than anyone else, if you ask me.' He smiled at her. ‘Do you think we're past standing in an alley like them?' He turned her towards him in the full glow of the street-lamp and took a bold kiss.

‘Just like a couple of kids,' Jess protested. She steered him on down the street past Henshaw's frosty window, past the unlit courts. ‘Come on, Sadie. It's too cold to hang about,' she called.

Sadie grumbled and called them spoil-sports, but they got home just fifteen minutes late and delivered her into the anxious care of a tired-looking Frances, who stood wrapped in a shawl at the head of the stairs.

Charlie watched her go with a lingering look, then trudged into the bar to meet up with his ma and pa.

‘Do you reckon it's safe to go back, to the Town Hall now?' Jess asked. Her feet felt like blocks of ice and her cheeks tingled, but she wanted to avoid any chance of Maurice getting involved in a brawl. If Chalky had it in for him in some way, they'd best steer clear.

‘Storm in a bleeding teacup,' he told her. ‘But come down to my place to keep warm, if you like. Ain't no rush, is there?'

Jess let herself be guided down Paradise Court, and over Dolly Ogden's whitened step. Caution went flying on the wind and she let her feelings surface. Soon she was clinging to Maurice in the safety of his room.

He felt her willingness, and every fibre in his body wanted to take advantage of it. Her body seemed part of him already, open and defenceless. He held her close and ran the flat of his hand up
and down her back. For a second his mind raced ahead; what if she regretted this later? She might be angry at being rushed into the situation and blame him for it. It might raise a terrible memory. So he pulled back a fraction and stared into her face. ‘Are you sure?' he murmured.

Jess stroked his forehead. ‘Don't frown.' Then she kissed his face. The voices of her upbringing had fled; the elderly chorus of Sunday schoolteachers and maiden aunts who stood in line down the years, shaking their heads and speaking of respect, decency, reputation. All she saw was Maurice's face, his deep brown eyes and the desire there. ‘Kiss me again,' she whispered, drowning in the warm moment.

He unhooked the small fastening of the blue-green silk bodice. There was a layer of thin white silk beneath, held in place by a tie on each shoulder, which easily slid away. Then he ran his fingertips over her breasts, felt her shiver as he bent to kiss them, felt himself driven on beyond thought by a desperate need to have her.

Jess felt him lift her and gently lay her on the bed. Her eyes were closed. She heard the small snap of his collar studs, the rustle of his shirt lifted over his head. She opened her eyes as she felt the side of the bed dip, and reached out to touch the smoothness of his shoulder and chest. She rested her forefinger in the shallow dish beneath the Adam's apple, then she raised her finger and brushed it across his mouth. He bent with an urgent groan to smother her neck and breasts with kisses, before he pressed her back with the full weight of his long, strong body and kissed her mouth until her lips ached.

Now he roused her with his hands, caressing her in open celebration of her beauty as she consented to more and more intimate moments. He stroked the sleek line from hip to thigh, resting his head against her belly. For the first time in her life she felt delight pass from a man's touch into her own body, and she responded with unselfconscious pleasure. They taught that you gave away something precious to the man you loved, but they had it the wrong way round. She felt Maurice offered her the gift of himself, unguarded, utterly whole. That men could be like this
stunned her mind and roused her body. She thrilled and held him to her.

Their love-making over at last, they lay intertwined, falling from breathlessness into gentle contentment and then the strange, redundant moments of shyness, when she gathered the sheets around her and wondered what was the next move. Her clothes lay scattered on the floor. She gazed at him, not knowing what to do or say.

Raised on one elbow, he smudged away signs of her tears, as he had done once before. ‘Don't go and cry on me,' he whispered. ‘I ain't no good with a handkerchief!' He seemed to read her mind, for, without rushing, he went and gathered her things and put them on the end of the bed within reach. ‘You've got lovely hair,' he murmured, running one hand back from her brow across the shining dark mass on the pillow. ‘Listen, you get your things on while I go down and make us a cup of tea.'

She laughed. ‘You'll give Dolly the fright of her life if they've just got back and you go down like that!'

‘The thrill of her life, you mean.' He grabbed some clothes. ‘Anyhow, Dolly's up at the Duke, well away by now, I shouldn't wonder.' He went off down the dark stairs.

Jess lay flat on her back for a few moments, staring at the shapes made on the sloping ceiling by cracks in the plaster; a human profile, a starfish. Then she roused herself and got dressed, glad when she went down of the low fire in Dolly's kitchen grate. Maurice kissed her and they hugged close together while they sipped the tea. It was midnight when he took her back up the court. The last drinkers spilled out of the pub. Charlie, Dolly, and Arthur met them fair and square on the doorstep.

Dolly, her free and easy tongue loosened by an evening's sociable drinking, hollered blessings at them. ‘That's a girl, you enjoy yourself. You only live once and that's a fact!' She winked at her lodger. ‘Mind you treat Jess right, Mr Leigh. She needs someone to look out for her. Don't we all?' She gave Arthur, as inert as his wife was lively, a hefty nudge which unbalanced him on top of Maurice. Maurice set him straight with a good-natured smile.

By this time, Jess could feel herself blushing from head to toe, so she gave Maurice a hasty kiss on the cheek and fled upstairs.

Hettie had spent part of the evening with Mary O'Hagan, and become a willing helper in the crowded bed-time routine of the three older children, who washed in cold water at the restored kitchen tap, scraped a comb through their hair and climbed into one big bed, at the end opposite to the three younger ones, already sound asleep.

She noticed signs of improvement. Besides the running water, there was a white cloth on the kitchen table and a piece of net curtain draped across rough twine to block out the worst of the grimy outlook down on to the back court. Mary herself had tidied her hair and made sure her blouse was clean and decent. The washing she'd taken in that day was already laundered. It awaited the iron in neat piles. She welcomed Hettie with a calm smile and offered tea, making only half-hearted attempts to keep the children from clinging to the visitor's skirt.

During the evening, Mary pieced together the family's latest news; Tommy was still on the scene, putting his mind to earning good money in place of poor Daisy. ‘Poor boy, he never believed she'd been done in first off. I had to hang on to him to stop him racing straight over the Palace to bring her home. It was all right for us, we had time to get used to it, but poor Tom, it hit him like a hammer. I never seen him look so bad.' Mary's thin, serious face went distant. Hettie took her hand. ‘He never got a chance to come to the funeral, see. He never seen her laid in the ground.'

Hettie sat with Mary, marooned in grief, waiting for the sad tale to continue. She said silent prayers.

‘At any rate, the poor boy had to believe it in the end. Now he's up with the lark every day, off to Covent Garden, working his barrow to bring back the pennies.' Mary sighed. ‘I'm proud of that boy, Hettie. And you'll not believe this, but his poor pa's found work as well. He heard of a job going down at Coopers', and he went across right that minute and they took him on. He came
home grinning fit to bust, all swelled up with pride. Now he's bringing in a few shillings again.'

Hettie smiled. Her talk with Edith Cooper had eventually paid off.

Mary patted her friend's hand. ‘Joe's not a bad man, only he's been down on his luck. What's a man to do without work, I ask you, except sit on his backside and get down?'

‘And worry about rent day coming round,' Hettie agreed. She tried to imagine doleful Joe O'Hagan grinning fit to bust.

Mary nodded. ‘We done many a moonlight flit, me, Joe and the kids, and I ain't ashamed to admit it to you. But please God, things will be different now. We turned a corner, thanks to you!' She returned Hettie's hand to her own lap. Through the doorway, six tousled, sleeping heads lay without pillows. The women sat on in companionable, peaceful silence.

A week later, on the 11th of November 1914; a day engraved on their minds for ever, Edith and Jack Cooper stood among the proud parents at Victoria Station, waving their son off to war.

Young men swung up into the carriages, feeling their importance, knowing their destiny. Individual differences faded, marked only by a tartan band on this soldier's cap, a line of gold braid around that sailor's cuff. To a man, they looked down from the open windows with a mixture of defiance and fierce bravado. Instructions from mothers centred on food and frequent letters. Fathers stood by silent, hands behind their backs, feet apart, heads raised to look at the gathering clouds of steam under the giant glass canopy.

‘Write soon, Teddy!' Edith Cooper cried, strangled with guilt now that the moment had arrived. Perhaps it was too great a test, merely to restore their good name. He looked young and vulnerable, too fair and soft to face the harsh realities of war. But it was too late.

‘Don't fuss, Mother.' Teddy frowned. His Flying Corps uniform encased him in a tough, worldly shell. He leaned out and shook his father by the hand. The train whistle shrieked, the wheels began to shunt. His mother cried along with all the rest.

Teddy leaned out until he lost their heads in a sea of waving hands. Then he ducked inside the carriage and sat down heavily on the buttoned cloth. Soon he was in conversation with an army captain, exchanging regiments, training camps, news of the front and so on. Edith and Jack sat in silence as they drove along suburban streets beneath skeletal trees all swirling in November fogs, between faint pools of gaslight.

Next day before dawn, a heavy knock on the doors of the Duke announced the arrival of a telegram.

Duke came down and slid back the bolts with dread certainty. It was Robert. He held the door open a fraction and took the envelope without speaking, then he closed the door and stood in the empty hallway. The paper shook in his hand.

‘I'll open it, Pa.' Frances had come quietly down in her shawl. She put one hand on his shaking arm. The other girls had gathered at the top of the stairs, clutching the necks of their night-dresses. Florrie soon joined them.

He handed the telegram to her.

Frances tore it open. She read the official message and sighed. ‘Robert's wounded. He's in the field hospital.'

‘Alive?' Duke breathed.

‘Wounded. It don't say how bad' She had to lean on him for support now. She looked up at her sisters.

‘But alive.' He took the message and reread it. ‘They don't tell you nothing. What we supposed to think?'

Florrie, Hettie, Jess and Sadie came down to stand in the cold hallway. They crowded together for comfort. ‘We gotta be patient,' Florrie said. ‘They'll look after him and send him back for proper nursing when he's strong enough.'

Frances nodded. Her friend, Rosie Cornwell, took care of cases like that. ‘Soon as he gets back, well be able to tell. We can go and see him for ourselves . . .' But she remembered the terrible injuries Rosie described; men without limbs, shell-shocked, scarred, with terrible stammers, or blind from exploding bombs. Sadie began to cry.

‘Stop that, girl, we ain't lost him,' Duke told her. His hand still shook as he took hold of the banister rail. ‘He's one of the lucky ones. We gotta remember that.'

A dark gloom serried on Duke and his family as they waited for news of Robert. A day went by. Hope flickered that his wound would be slight, that his recovery would be swift and complete. After all, he was a strong, fit young man with a good fighting spirit. If enemy shells had failed to finish him off, there was no reason why the doctors and nurses couldn't patch the wound and put him back together as good as new.

This was the opinion of people up and down Paradise Court. They read the bullish reports of battle and transferred the illusion of national invincibility to individual cases like Robert Parsons. He knew how to take care of himself; none better. He'd lived on his wits all his life, and no one had ever got the upper hand. They held in their minds a picture of the tall, strapping lad manhandling great barrels down into the cellar, and the girls remembered him in particular as brazen, handsome Robert Parsons, the ladies' man.

‘Any news?' Annie Wiggin asked Florrie when she came into the bar for her evening drink. Though she still looked askance at Florrie's bossy ways, she preferred a quiet word with her rather than bothering Duke directly. Annie felt his unspoken hurt keenly, but she had developed the tact to keep her distance. She knew all too well the torment of waiting to hear news of a loved one. Her old man had put her through two whole years of it before she finally gave up hope.

‘Who is it you want to know about this time, Robert or Ernie?' Florrie was up to her elbows in soap suds, washing glasses. ‘If it's Ern, there's nothing new. We're moving heaven and earth to get him off. His trial comes up in less than a month.'

‘It's bleeding criminal!' Annie said, fired up all of a sudden. ‘That's what it is. Makes my blood boil to think of the poor sod banged up in some prison cell. What d'they think they're up to, accusing an innocent man?' She took a savage gulp from her full glass, then calmed down. ‘You been to visit?'

Florrie nodded. ‘Ett took me along with her last week. White as a sheet, he is, and pining for home. He don't know what's hit him, not really.'

‘Any rate, he's in good hands.' Annie had kept in touch with Frances about the work being done by Mr Sewell on Ernie's behalf. ‘We gotta hope for the best.'

‘Ett says we gotta trust in Jesus,' Florrie said. She turned to lean across the bar and lowered her loud voice. ‘Tell me if I'm speaking out of turn here, Annie, but Jesus by himself ain't enough, not to my way of thinking.'

‘It's a start, though. With Him on your side, things is bound to get smoother.' Annie didn't consider herself religious, but she paid lip service to God's existence as a kind of insurance premium. ‘I go along with Ett. I think we should trust Him.'

Florrie's eyes narrowed further. ‘Don't get me wrong, I ain't against a well-meaning prayer or two, don't think that. All I'm saying is it's a good job we got Jess and Frances both doing their bit and all. And it's a good job we got British justice. Twelve good men and true. I'd rather put my trust in them, if you want to know.'

Annie's mouth went down at the corners. She glanced sideways to make sure that Duke was well out of hearing. ‘No, Florrie, I'd put my money on Jesus if I was you. Them other scales is weighted against the likes of Ernie, believe me!'

‘No thanks,' Florrie snapped back.

Annie saw she'd put her man-sized boot in it. ‘Don't mind me. Of course, we gotta hope for the best, I know that.' She took another swig from her glass. ‘Anyhow, what's the news from France? Are they sending Robert home for a drop of Blighty?'

Florrie slung a damp tea-towel across one shoulder and picked up a wooden tray full of clean glasses. ‘They are. We got word
this morning. They put him on a train last night; he gets back within the hour.'

‘Well, that's good, ain't it?' Annie's face lit up with genuine pleasure. ‘That's what you all been waiting for.' She nodded at Duke. ‘I hear you're getting your boy back tonight!'

He came across. ‘We got a telegram. Hettie's going up to Guy's to see him.'

Annie faltered. ‘He ain't coming home then?'

‘Not straight off. He has to stay in the hospital.' Duke tried to keep a steady gaze and a level voice. ‘They want to keep an eye on him for a bit, that's all.' He changed the subject. ‘Now then, Annie, what's this I been hearing about you giving young Amy Ogden her old job back? I never knew business was that brisk these days.'

Annie shuffled on her seat. ‘It ain't brilliant, I gotta admit. But she's been out of work a fair while now, and I promised her ma I'd keep her out of harm's way. It's coming up to Christmas; you gotta do your bit.'

‘There's a lot wouldn't.'

‘Well, she ain't a bad little worker. She keeps going on about the bleeding weather though, and I have to tell her to shut it or it gets me down. Otherwise I ain't got no complaints.' She finished off her beer.

Duke picked up the glass. ‘Have another one, Annie? It's on the house.'

Annie beamed at sour-looking Florrie. ‘Don't mind if I do, Duke. And you tell Jess and Hettie they can come down my stall and get special rates any time they like. Anything they need. I hear their own little business is taking off nicely these days. Cotton thread, darning wool, shoulder pads, bias-binding; I got everything they need nice and cheap. You just tell them that from me, you hear.' She settled in for a good evening. Trouble brought out the best in folk, she thought. If you couldn't trust Jesus or justice, at least you could be sure of your friends and neighbours.

When she heard the news about Robert's home-coming, Sadie went
straight down to Charlie's house. Everything had been so gloomy lately that this ray of light made her jump up to visit, even though she knew Charlie didn't like her to call. ‘Tell Pa I'm at Charlie's,' she shouted up the street to Frances, just coming home from work. ‘Ain't it brilliant? Robert's been sent back home!'

Frances nodded quietly and went up to see Jess and baby Grace. ‘I wish to goodness Sadie would calm down a bit,' she complained. ‘She's a harum-scarum, and it ain't as if she's a little kid no more.' Frances's own mood had been thrown off balance by a chance word of Billy Wray. Rosie had called in to tell her that his wife, Ada, had been admitted to the women's hospital and was very ill.

Jess glanced up from the bed, where she sat cleaning and changing the baby. ‘Leave off, Frances,' she said. ‘It's been tough on Sadie lately. She's only thrilled at Rob being sent home, that's all.'

Frances sighed. ‘We ain't heard what's wrong with him yet, though, have we?' She sat heavily at the other side of the bed.

‘Ett's just gone off to find out. We'll know before too long, at any rate.' Jess kept busy. She hoped it was bad enough to get him sent home for a good long time, not too bad to have done permanent damage. With luck, they'd have him at home for the trial. He'd be able to come and give evidence in person. Every cloud had a silver lining, she thought.

‘Give me a cuddle of my favourite niece!' Frances declared with sudden warmth. She bent to pick up the child, gathering her close and breathing in the smell of clean skin and talcum powder. Grace, fully awake and curious, began to poke her chubby fingers against Frances's lips and nose.

Dolly came slowly to the door to answer Sadie's knock. ‘Why, it ain't your birthday, is it?' She stood on the doorstep, arms folded. ‘What's up? I ain't missed nothing important, have I?' She too knew that Charlie was funny about Sadie coming to the house. ‘No!' Sadie laughed out loud. ‘Not yet. But Rob's been sent back. He'll be arriving any minute. I came to tell Charlie!'

Dolly nodded and eased herself back down the corridor. ‘In that case, you'd better sit in the front room while I go up and get him.'
She smiled pleasantly in response to Sadie's infectious excitement, glad there was something to smile about at last. Maybe the girl would cheer up her moody, touchy son. ‘He ain't at work with Mr Leigh tonight, so he'll have a long face on him if I know anything about it. You got your work cut out with him, girl.'

Sadie was shown in, and sat down on a rickety
chaise-longue
in the Ogdens' empty front room. The sofa was covered in torn black calico, with its horsehair stuffing sprouting through in places. It wobbled noisily on the bare, uneven floorboards. The grate lay empty in spite of the cold weather, and the walls, once decorated in fawn-flowered wallpaper, were patchy with damp, dark stains. Soon she heard Dolly's footsteps return downstairs and go through into the kitchen. Several nervous minutes later, she recognized the sound of Charlie's own scuffing feet.

As the door opened, she sprang up to greet him. ‘Guess what, Charlie, good news!' she began, darting forward.

Charlie frowned and backed off against the closed door. He felt the bare, bleak meanness of his family circumstances more than he could put into words, but he turned it against Sadie herself. ‘I thought I told you not to come bothering me here.'

She paused. The smile faded. ‘I didn't think I was bothering you,' she murmured.

‘You didn't think, full stop.'

‘I thought you'd be glad, Charlie.'

He moved uneasily towards the window, avoiding her gaze. He didn't want to be deflected from saying what he knew he must say. Her big, dark, liquid eyes would put him off. ‘Robert gets back tonight, Ma told me,' he said, his voice flat. He stared out at the row of identical houses opposite; no gardens, no railings, no net curtains, nothing. ‘That's good.'

Sadie stood there unnerved. She looked a fool, she realized. Dolly could never keep her mouth shut, not even for a second. Sadie's insides started to churn. She clutched the buckle of her belt and began to back off towards the door. ‘I just wanted to tell you myself, that's all.'

Charlie nodded. He had to say what he'd decided one night last
week when he sat in the projection room at the Gem. Pictures of America flickered on the screen; a great train journey across the Wild West, depicting the exploits of cowboys and gun-slingers. The world was a vast, unexplored territory. The dusty little room was dark. It smelt of hot metal, it whirred as the film rolled past the bright lens. He was stuck in prison and the camera showed him freedom. ‘I want us to stop walking out together,' he said in an empty way. ‘It ain't no use going on, now the winter's here. It ain't as if we can ride out on Sundays, is it?' He glanced round to judge the effect of his words. The room fell quiet.

‘But we can go again in spring,' Sadie said at last. She stared at the back of his head. ‘Can't we, Charlie?'

‘No, we can't.' He hated her docility. Didn't she realize he was chucking her? Why wasn't she angry?

‘Why not? Do you have to give your bike back? We'll get you another one, then it'll be fine.' She came close up behind him, reaching out her hand.

‘It ain't fine!' He turned on her. ‘Ain't you heard what I said? I want us to stop walking out together, that's what. I'm sick of it!'

Sadie stepped to one side, averting her face as if he'd struck her on the cheek, half-turning away so that her long plait swung round in front of her shoulder. She clutched both hands together.

‘What did you have to come here for?' he raged. ‘Why can't you stay out of my way? You're always hanging round, showing me up. Can't I do nothing on my own? Can't I?' His head was thrust towards her, then he rushed past her, pushing her off balance. ‘I ain't ready to be tied down,' he said finally. ‘Can't you see that?'

Sadie gathered herself. He still stood by the door, one hand on the handle. It seemed he wanted her agreement to break off on his terms. Well, he could think again. ‘I ain't tied you down, Charlie Ogden. I enjoyed being with you, and either you lied to me or else you enjoyed being with me too. That ain't tying you down. I listened to all your big ideas and I never said nothing. But you never listened to nothing I said, I know that now. I listened while you rabbited on about being hard done by because you ain't got a garden or a room of your own. Well, poor thing! I ain't got a room of my own
neither. I got one brother wounded in the war, no one knows how bad, and one other brother in gaol accused of murder. I got a sister struggling to bring up a baby on her own. And I think they're the bleeding best there is!' She paused, but only to draw breath. ‘I love my family, Charlie Ogden, and I loved you too. Not any more. You don't know the meaning of the word, and I'm sorry I wasted my time waiting for you to find out!' She swept past him at the open door. ‘Fine words and big ideas, Charlie. That's you from top to bottom. Well, you'd better just go off and do them fine deeds so you can live with yourself, and I wish you lots of bleeding luck!'

Charlie watched her go. The front door slammed.

‘Blimey, where did that come from?' Dolly asked from down in the kitchen. She'd overheard every word. ‘I got her down for a little mouse, but she put you in your place, son.' She sat sewing stockings. ‘Not half!'

Sadie's feet hardly touched the pavement as she flew back up Paradise Court. For the first time in her life she'd been deeply hurt and angry, with Charlie and with herself. But she quietened herself as she pushed through the decorated doors and went upstairs. No one would want to hear her troubles, what with Robert due back tonight. She looked flushed and her heart beat fast as a cat's. ‘Ain't Ett back yet?' she asked. Baby Grace was up with a touch of colic, being walked back and forth by Jess, who'd administered gripe water. Frances had the ironing board out by the fire. Freshly ironed clothes lay all around in warm piles.

Charlie waited to confide in Maurice Leigh when he arrived home from work. He came out of the bedroom on to the landing and waited for the older man as he heard his key turn in the lock. ‘I had a word with Sadie and I put a stop to things,' he told him, his face grave. ‘I told her I didn't want to be tied down.'