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.’
Charles was in no mood for this and said impatiently, ‘I doubt that, and anyway, she will need professional care.’
‘Can I at least come to see her?’
Charles looked at his daughter, but the appeal in her eyes failed to move him. ‘We’ve already talked about this, and I don’t have time to go over it again. I have a lot to do today, not least trying to find domestic staff, so please finish your breakfast and leave me in peace.’
‘But …’
‘Not another word,’ he said firmly.
Constance pushed her plate forward, her scrambled eggs untouched, but Charles hardly noticed. He was just pleased that she’d left and after drinking a second cup of tea he withdrew to his study.
Once he’d obtained the telephone number from directory enquiries, Charles rang the domestic agency. Ethel and Mary would be leaving on Monday morning, so he only had five days to find replacements. He outlined what he wanted and insisted on impeccable references. The agency was very efficient and helpful, promising that suitable candidates who were available to start work on Monday would be sent for him to interview tomorrow. A time was arranged and the call ended with Charles in a slightly better mood.
He checked his watch. With only one consultancy appointment at eleven, it left the rest of the day clear. He would go to visit Hettie later and after that he’d drive to Battersea to see Jessica, confident that this time he’d find her at home.
At mid-morning that day, Albie was looking at cars. With two grand coming his way soon, he intended to buy one, albeit secondhand. Though bucking against it at first, he was now chuffed that he’d agreed to marry Constance. He was marrying into a wealthy family and could see lots of advantages coming his way. Not only that, he’d realised that though he’d be a married man, it didn’t mean he had to be a faithful one.
‘Let me see inside this one,’ he said to the car dealer, who looked a smarmy git, but that didn’t bother Alfie as he was sure that nobody could put one over on him.
‘At this price, you won’t find any better,’ the man told him, then went on to point out all the advantages of owning a five-year-old Vauxhall.
Albie slid into the driver’s seat, his eyes taking in the interior. It wasn’t bad, but he wanted something that looked a bit flashier, a car that would make heads turn. He climbed out again and then pursed his lips. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he told the dealer.
‘I’ve a few other models I can show you.’
‘Thanks, mate, but not today. Maybe some other time,’ Albie replied, and walked away from the lot. There were other things he wanted to look at, new togs, shoes, and a nice watch. He began to whistle the tune to Herman’s Hermits’ chart hit ‘I’m Into Something Good’ as he headed for Clapham Junction.
On painkillers, Jessica drifted in and out of sleep, but that afternoon she came to fully and found Eric sitting by the side of the bed. Remembering that he had rescued her, she whispered, ‘Oh, Eric, I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘You don’t have to. I’m just glad I got you out of there. I’d heard that your dad was violent, but bloody hell, I didn’t realise it was that bad.’
‘That’s the worst beating he’s ever given me.’
‘But why? Why did he do that to you?’
Jessica gathered her thoughts, her mind drifting back to the past. ‘My parents made me leave school at fourteen and sent me out to work, doing cleaning jobs. They made me fib about my age. I’d start work at six in the morning doing office cleaning, and then go on to private houses. At night it would be cleaning in factories. I’d be worn out by then, and they were the hardest jobs. They took every penny I earned.’
‘Bloody hell. That’s like slave labour. Why didn’t you refuse?’
‘’Cos if I did I’d get a beating. My dad knocked all the spunk out of me, at least he thought he had, but when I was sixteen I somehow found the nerve to run away. I dreaded him finding me, but he never did, and I never went back to Hackney again … well … until yesterday.’
‘So what made you go back?’
Jessica looked at Eric and decided to tell the truth. ‘I was looking for you.’
Eric grinned and then said, ‘Yeah, I know. A bloke in the pub told me you’d been in asking about me.’
‘If you knew, why ask?’
‘I’m just teasing, but I shouldn’t. You still look rough and maybe you should see a doctor.’
‘No,’ Jessica protested, struggling to sit up. ‘I’m all right, just a bit battered and bruised, that’s all.’
‘I’m not so sure and I think you should get checked out.’
‘Stop worrying, I’m fine,’ Jessica told him. To change the conversation she looked around the small room and asked, ‘Is this where you live?’
‘Yeah. This is my mate’s house and he lets me use this room when I’m on shore leave.’
‘And where is this house?’
‘We’re in Battersea Park Road, not that far from your place, but if you’re thinking of going home, forget it. You ain’t up to it yet and need looking after.’
‘I’m not going to argue,’ Jessica said as she was hit by a wave of pain. ‘Can I have another pill?’
‘Not for another hour. We don’t want you overdosing. Your face is still swollen from where it’s been used as a punchbag, but tell me, are your lips sore?’
‘No, why?’
‘I just wanted to make sure,’ Eric said, then leaned forward to kiss her.
Jessica loved the feel of his lips on hers, and if he still wanted her she had come to a decision. Of course it was only fair that she told Charles – after all, in his own way, he’d been good to her. She would miss the comfort of his money, and her lovely flat, but she wouldn’t miss having to please him in bed. From now on, the only man she wanted was Eric.
Ethel and Mary were full of plans for the flat, talking about bedding, curtaining and other things to make it their own. Ethel had her savings, and Mary had a good few pounds tucked away too, so money wasn’t a problem. Ethel had already begun to sort out her belongings, not that that there was much, just her clothes and a few ornaments. Everything she and Fred owned had been destroyed by a bomb, and as the small flat that came with the job had been furnished, they hadn’t needed to replace anything. She picked up a framed photograph of Fred, the only one she had, and smiled softly. He’d been a good-looking man. Albie took after him with his blond hair and blue eyes, but their personalities were poles apart. Fred had been quiet, steady and honest, whereas Albie was a bit of a rogue. Not that it didn’t stop her missing her grandson and his cheeky grin. Her expression saddened, but then Mary called out to ask her if she wanted a cup of tea. Ethel said yes, and after returning the photo to its place she went back to the kitchen.
‘I reckon we should sneak out again tomorrow or on Friday,’ Mary said. ‘We talked about bedding and we don’t want to move into our flat without any.’
‘Yeah, good idea. We’ll wait until Mr Burton Blake leaves in the morning, and then get a bus to the market. That’s another thing, we’ll need someone to move our stuff for us.’
‘I ain’t got much, just a small case and of course our new bedding.’
‘I’ve got a fair-sized case, and a box of ornaments, but that’s all.’
‘Would it fit into a taxi?’
Ethel pursed her lips. ‘Yeah, probably, but how are we going to find one?’
‘How about having a word with Miss Constance. She’s sure to know.’
‘Good idea. Pop upstairs and ask her to come and see me.’
Though her legs were improving, Ethel pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. With Mrs Burton Blake in hospital there’d been no demands for fancy cakes and fancy dinner menus. Constance didn’t eat much, and when her father was home he didn’t scrutinise the menus as his wife had. Whoever took over from her as cook would have an easier time of it, and even if Mrs Burton Blake recovered enough to return home, Ethel doubted she’d be the same indomitable woman who, drunk or sober, demanded nothing but perfection from the kitchen.
‘Hello, Ethel,’ Constance greeted her as she came downstairs. ‘Mary said you want to talk to me.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ Ethel said, going on to tell her about the need for transport on Monday.
‘I can ring a taxi company and arrange for you to be picked up, but wish I didn’t have to. I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘Thank you, and I’m gonna miss you too. I’ll give you our address and you can come to see us at any time.’
‘Now that I’m not at college, and until I marry Albie, I’ve certainly got plenty of time on my hands. Thank you, Ethel, I’d love to visit you.’
‘Good, but another thing. We need bedding for our flat so when your father leaves in the morning, Mary and me are going shopping.’
‘He won’t be going out in the morning. He’s got to interview candidates to replace you.’
‘Bugger it,’ Mary said, then placed a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, Miss.’
‘There’s no need to apologise, and I think it’s about time you both stopped calling me Miss, or Miss Constance. From now on, it’s just Constance.’
‘All right, Miss,’ Mary said, and giggled. ‘I think it’s gonna take a bit of getting used to.’
Constance smiled and then said, ‘You could go shopping on Friday morning.’
‘Yeah, let’s do that, Ethel,’ Mary enthused.
‘All right, but if your father isn’t going out again, will you warn us?’
‘Of course,’ Constance agreed.
‘Thanks, Miss … I mean Constance,’ Ethel said, rising to her feet. ‘I’d best start to prepare dinner for you and your father.’
‘I’m going to miss your cooking, Ethel, especially your Coronation Chicken.’
‘I’ll give you the recipe and once you marry Albie you can make it for him.’
‘Ethel, as I can’t even boil an egg, I think Coronation Chicken is a bit ambitious.’
‘My Dora’s a good cook, love, and you’ll learn a lot from her.’
‘Why don’t you get on with your daughter? Is it something to do with why Albie doesn’t want to see you any more?’
‘Yes, but it’s family business and I don’t want to talk about it. Now if you don’t mind, Miss, I’d best get on,’ Ethel said abruptly.
Constance looked saddened, but said as she walked towards the stairs, ‘All right, I’ll leave you to it.’
When the door at the top of the stairs closed, Ethel glared at Mary and asked, ‘What are you looking at me like that for?’
‘You were a bit harsh with her and all that talk about it being family business.’
‘Yeah, I know, but it’s a sore subject.’
‘But she’s gonna be marrying into your family soon so maybe it is her business.’
‘Mary, shut up about it,’ Ethel snapped. She couldn’t face telling Constance the reason why her daughter and grandson had disowned her – couldn’t face seeing the look of disgust on her face. Desolate, she began to prepare the vegetables, but then from behind she felt arms wrap around her waist.
‘Don’t be sad,’ Mary said. ‘You’ve still got me.’
‘Yes, I have,’ Ethel replied, her mood lifting a little, ‘and I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘You won’t ’ave to,’ Mary assured her.
Ethel hoped it was true, that Mary wouldn’t leave her, but she was a realist and knew that nothing lasted forever. For now, though, she could look forward to moving into their new flat and making it their own.