Free Paradise Court by Jenny Oldfield Page B

recover her spirits.’ Mrs Holden had already been led away upstairs in a stare of shock.
    Mr Holden, rendered powerless by Frances’s cool tactics, handed Jess eight pounds ten shillings; half her annual wage. She went up and packed her small canvas bag while Frances was sent to wait in the back scullery. No one spoke as they took their leave of the house by the servants’ door; not the housekeeper who’d seen it corning a mile off, not the cook who’d befriended Jess for a time, and certainly not Gilbert Holden, conspicuous by his absence during the row, but who stood now in his shirt-sleeves looking down on them from an upstairs window. The glass reflected light from the cloud-laden sky as Jess glanced back up.
    â€˜Good riddance,’ Frances said, hurrying Jess down the path on to the street. ‘Now, Jess, you got to know Pa ain’t exactly waiting to welcome you with open arms when we get back.’ Her voice had relaxed into the East End twang.
    Jess nodded. ‘What about the rest?’
    â€˜Let’s wait and see, shall we?’ She hurried away, the nasty taste of hypocrisy still in her mouth. ‘Oh, it’s very nice being shocked and throwing a faint all over the place!’ she exclaimed. ‘But what’s the betting she’s back at church with that son of hers, for the nativity service, loving her neighbor and angling for a respectable girl for him to marry!’
    â€˜Poor cow, whoever she is,’ Jess agreed. ‘But don’t let’s talk about it no more.’ She looked straight ahead, shoulders back, walking firmly alongside her eldest sister. ‘And there’s one more thing, Frances. I don’t want to explain nothing about what happened back there, and that’s that!’
    It hurt too much to remember Gilbert’s endless dirty remarks, his hands pawing her at every end and turn, the disgusting behavior that had led to this disgrace. There was one dark and violent moment that Jess would lock away for ever and never talk about. In those unspeakable seconds, a woman was helpless, friendless and alone. Then she had to carry her own pain and humiliation as best she could. Jess clurched her bag and marched along.
    â€˜I don’t think Pa could believe it at first.’ Frances felt deeply for Duke in all this. They’d descended into the underground on to an almost empty platform.
    â€˜Me neither. I sometimes think maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and find the whole thing’s been a bad dream.’ She grinned at Frances in a brave attempt to lighten the mood.
    Frances smiled back. ‘Ready?’ she asked when they’d negotiated the tram journey and the light traffic of Duke Street.
    Jess pulled at the skirt of her dark-blue coat and checked her reflection in the windows of the Duke. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ she announced, stepping upstairs into the lion’s den.
    â€˜She’s here!’ Hettie called back into the living room. She’d pepped over the banisters and seen the top of Jess’s head coming upstairs. Then she fled into the kitchen.
    Sadie sat as instructed at the table with Ernie, stiff and awkward as if they expected visitors she hardly knew. She pulled her long plait in front of one shoulder, then tossed it back again. She bit her lip. ‘Sit still, Ern!’ she told him. She could head Jess and Frances pause on the landing before they came in.
    Ernie glanced at Robert for his lead. Rob leaned against the mantelpiece smoking a cigarette. Everything was all right then, Ernie thought. He smiled back at Sadie.
    So when Jess finally came in, Ernie jumped up as he always did when she came home to visit on her half day off. He went right up to her and hugged her, knocking her hat off. ‘Make the tea!’ he shouted through to Hettie. ‘Jess is here!’
    â€˜Watch it, Ern!’ Robert jumped nimbly forward to rescue the hat.
    â€˜Leave him be, I won’t