After Hours (37 page)

She stood up, pleased for him, not yet seeing, the significance for the family, ‘You're very clever, Maurice. And I think you deserve it.'

‘Ain't you over the moon?' He embraced her. ‘I ain't just a manager no more. I'm a boss.'

‘Of the whole thing?' She didn't see how it worked. Maurice hadn't taken her into his confidence over any of this.

‘No, not the whole thing.' He smiled. ‘I just bought myself into one branch, developing the chain outside London.'

‘Meaning what exactly?'

‘Meaning, we're branching out, Jess, across the whole country. I'll take on new cinemas, get them on their feet. We're gonna take over the whole country before we're through!' He saw white-stuccoed cinema palaces in every grimy northern town; the clean, modern façades of concrete and steel, the wide open foyers, the raking auditoria, the silver screens.

‘You ain't gonna work in London no more?' The picture cleared. It seemed Maurice wanted to uproot them. ‘Hold on a minute, Maurice, I ain't exactly sure what this means to us.'

He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Look, if I run new branches, of course it ain't in London. We'll move north, Jess, find a nice new house near Leeds or Manchester. I already telephoned a few people. There's plenty of nice places. It ain't all cotton mills and women in clogs and shawls.'

She shook her head. ‘And this is definite?'

‘Copper-bottom, all signed, sealed and delivered.' He stepped back from her and began to pace the floor.

‘And when would we have to move?'

‘It's up to us. Soon. Before Christmas.'

‘What about schools?' Objections flooded in. She put to one side for now the overwhelming feeling that he should have discussed it with her first.

‘They got schools in Manchester, don't they?'

‘And what about the dress shop?' Jess felt strangely calm. Later, she knew, the emotions would rise.

‘Let Hettie have it,' he advised. ‘She's got Edith Cooper to help her run it now. You're off the hook as far as making dresses goes. No more slaving over a hot sewing-machine.'

‘It ain't slaving, Maurice.'

He turned on her. ‘Why do you have to go nit-picking, taking me up like that? All I say is, there's plenty of cash now. I'll take a share of the profits, see. It don't make no sense for you to go on working.'

She stared back at him. ‘I'm sorry you think I'm nitpicking.'

There was an awkward silence. Then Maurice's temper exploded. ‘Go on, poke your spiteful oar in, why don't you? You ain't normal, Jess. A normal woman would be over the moon to be able to take it easy. You can enjoy the good life and I'll take care of everything!' He strode angrily towards her.

She dodged and went to close the door, to contain the noise of raised voices. ‘You're saying to me, uproot and go off without a by-your-leave. You never even stopped to think if it suited me!'

He laughed derisively. ‘I'm meant to ask if you want to be rich? If you want the kids to have the best of everything? If you want to drive around the posh shops in a big car, instead of being holed
up day after day in a back room making things that other women can look down their noses at? I ain't never heard nothing so bleeding stupid!'

‘You ain't never heard nothing I said,' she pointed out. ‘Not lately.'

‘Are you saying you won't move?' He gave a direct challenge, standing over her, demanding an answer.

‘I'm saying I ain't made up my mind.'

The answer rocked him. ‘Oh, and when do you think you might manage to do that?' He didn't wait for a reply, but went on in a sarcastic tone, ‘No, never mind. It don't make no difference to me, see. You take your time. You decide whether or not a wife should be glad for her husband and help him make his way. Ain't no rush. I'll just go ahead and find a place to rent. Manchester ain't that far, not on the train. I'll go by my bleeding self, if that's how you feel!' He slammed the door as he went out.

Jess slumped into her chair, exhausted by the effort of staying calm. In many ways he was right: she should be pleased for him, pure and simple. The family should stick together. She was a bad wife to put obstacles in his way.

Only, Maurice hadn't included her in his plans.
He
would say it was because he knew she'd say no. He wanted to make it a certainty before he gave her chance to object. Looked at in that light, his actions were reasonable.

She began to argue against herself and tear herself in two. All well and good to be ambitious, she thought, but who was Maurice trying to please? Did he imagine the children would be happier taken away from their grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins? And why didn't he see that her own work was important? He was a man, that's why. He'd struggled out of the gutter with single-minded determination. He didn't understand family. He looked on women as inferior. It was the old way; ingrained and unshakeable.

Jess had never seen herself as forward-looking; not compared with Frances. She had little social conscience compared with Ett, no training for modern business, like Sadie. But she felt strongly about her own ability to make her way in the world. The success
of the shop had allowed her confidence to grow. She knew how to design and make clothes that were a pleasure to wear. She could cut cloth to flatter, her dresses were wearable as well as fashionable. Best of all, she loved the work. The hours spent at the cutting-table with tailor's chalk, paper and pins, were a challenge to both imagination and practical skill. She would work out a design to the last detail, construct her clothes with an architect's precision, an artist's flair. When she went out on to Ealing High Street and saw a smart woman dressed in one of her outfits, she felt a glow of pride.

And Maurice had never once taken this into consideration. As she packed away her sewing things and turned off the light, she felt the grain of stubbornness swell and grow. It wasn't straightforward. A wife need not follow the husband willy-nilly. There might be a compromise. Let Maurice go up north and set himself up in decent lodgings. He could travel south in his time off. This would see them through the first period of time. If he was determined to make big changes to their lives, at least he could let her sort things out at her own pace-She got no chance to express these things, however. When she went upstairs to bed, she found it empty. This time, Maurice had collected blankets and taken them to the spare room.

In the morning, after a sleepless night, he announced his intention to go up to Manchester before the end of the month. ‘No one can afford to hang around in this business,' he explained. ‘We gotta get our foot in the door first. I want to show Kinemacolor as well as the old black and whites. I want to take Warner Brothers talkies before Gaumont snaps them up.' He said he planned to find lodgings, give Jess time to sell up and follow with the kids. ‘Ain't no rush over that,' he conceded. ‘I can see you need time to sort things out.' He felt magnanimous as he kissed her and took the children off to school in the car.

Sadie moved into Eden House, sobered by her bid to follow her own feelings over Richie. She was like a child whose fingers had been burnt, who none the less still finds the flames fascinating and
cannot leave the fire alone. Richie cropped up in her thoughts whenever she had a moment to spare from washing, changing and feeding Meggie. Throughout July, in the close heat of the court, she rocked their baby to sleep, humming a lullaby, secretly dreaming that his desertion was temporary and, like a cinema hero, he would gallop over the horizon clutching a fistful of dollars, with a smile on his handsome face.

He would be contrite. He would say he'd come back to be a husband and a father. They would be a family. For Sadie could not believe that she'd fallen for the type of man who would use a girl and ditch her the moment she got pregnant – the old story. She remembered Richie: his hooded, passionate eyes, his unspoken vulnerability, their closeness in bed. He couldn't have pretended then that he loved her without her knowing that he was insincere. She trusted her instinct, a small, dark voice that said Richie was better than he seemed. His love for her and the baby would overcome his doubts. She did expect to see him again, if not with a bagful of money, then at least with his sleeves rolled up, ready to try again.

Work had been the problem. Or lack of it. If Rob hadn't sacked Richie, Sadie felt that things would have worked out between them. Once out of worky his stride began to falter. He was a proud man, he hadn't liked her being the breadwinner at Swan and Edgar. He felt even worse when she had to leave her job over the pregnancy. He knew he wasn't a real man unless he could provide for her and the baby. Failure had driven him away.

This was not the general opinion on Richie Palmer down Paradise Court. Dolly Ogden denounced him as the ruination of a girl's good name. Long summer evenings gave her the space to proclaim these views among the older women who kept to the custom of sitting at their doorsteps until night fell. These were heatwave days, when dogs kept to the shady alleys, and every rat carried the danger of festering disease. Government promises to keep a hold on prices had been broken. The pound in the pocket didn't go as far. Only gossip was free.

‘And you see how the poor girl has to live,' Dolly said. ‘In that
nasty tenement. It don't matter how many licks of paint she gives it, it won't make no difference. And Frances can bring over all the disinfectant and bleach she likes, it ain't gonna keep them rats away: Not in the long run.'

There was a shaking of heads. Edith Cooper confirmed she'd seen a rat scuttling up a stairway that morning as she set off for work.

‘It ain't paint and disinfectant she needs,' Liz Sargent agreed. ‘It's a good man.'

‘Don't we all?' went up the general murmur.

‘But from what I hear, she'd take Palmer back like a shot,' Dolly went on disapprovingly. She brushed biscuit crumbs from her broad lap on to the pavement.

‘Never!'

‘She wouldn't!'

‘She would.' Dolly leaned confidentially forward. ‘She told my Amy as much. Amy wormed it out of her last week. She reckons she still loves him.'

‘Hush!' Liz saw Annie strolling up the court, eyes and ears alert. ‘And how's the bonny, bouncing baby, Dolly?' She steered the subject on to safe ground.

‘Blooming, ta. He's sitting up and taking notice already. We'll have him saying his first word before Christmas at this rate. Won't we, Annie? I was just saying, we got a little prince in young Bobby. He'll soon be toddling around, God bless his cotton socks!'

Annie agreed. ‘He's spoilt to death, mind. Amy's gonna have to toughen up on him before too long.'

‘And Rob,' Dolly reminded her.

‘You'd think no one had ever had babies before.'

‘Let them go ahead and spoil him rotten, Annie. It's more than some can do for their littl'uns.' She pushed towards controversy. Life was dull when everyone agreed.

‘How's that?' Annie bristled. ‘I hope you ain't referring to Sadie?'

Dolly protested innocence. ‘I never meant nothing. How
is
Sadie, by the way?'

‘Nicely, thanks.' Annie's face stayed stiff and unsmiling.

‘Under the circumstances.' Dolly nodded. ‘And how's little Meggie?'

‘Dancing the tango and doing long multiplication sums,' Annie snapped.

Dolly's eyebrows shot up. ‘No need to be like that, Annie. We're all on your side.'

Annie should have known better than to draw Dolly on, but she narrowed her eyes and folded her skinny arms. ‘And what side is that, then, Dolly?'

‘We all feel sorry for the poor girl. Sadie's been a bit headstrong, we know that. But she ain't done nothing to deserve Richie Palmer. Look how he brought her down, it's a disgrace. I used to look at young Sadie and say to myself, “There's a girl that will go far!”

Annie growled back. ‘Sadie's fine. She ain't feeling sorry for herself and she don't want your pity, Dolly Ogden. She's getting office work and bringing it home. Rob and Walter teamed up and bought her one of them typewriter machines from the pawnshop. She'll soon be on her feet.'

‘And she won't hear of taking Palmer back?' Dolly knew she was pushing her luck.

‘Don't be bleeding daft,' Annie retorted. ‘Where did you hear that?'

‘Nowhere.' Dolly pressed her lips together. ‘Ain't no one mentioned it to me. I was just asking.'

‘And I wonder you don't have nothing better to do, Dolly. Or I would if I didn't know you better, you old windbag.' Before Dolly had chance to reply, Annie nodded at Liz and Edith and marched on her way. She was going over to Ealing to visit Jess and the little ones. She saw trouble brewing in that direction. Maurice had gone and got himself work hundreds of miles away. That would put a strain on any family. Ett had said that Jess wasn't herself lately. Annie wanted to go and see for herself.

August broke with a heavy thunderstorm. Rain hammered on to the grey roofs, single slates slipped and fell. But the air was cleared. A weak sun broke through as Walter Davidson stopped his taxicab
outside Eden House and raced up the-stone steps in the final splattering drops.

‘There's a rainbow,' he told Sadie as she opened the door.

‘I ain't got time for no rainbows, Walter.'

‘You can't see it from here.' He unbuttoned his jacket and drew out a sheaf of jumbled, dog-eared papers. ‘I brought the accounts we want you to type up.'

She nodded. ‘Come in. I'm sorry I snapped.'

He took off his cap and followed her inside. ‘Ain't nothing wrong, is there?' Meggie was sitting propped in a big, soft chair, wedged around by pillows. Her eyes followed Sadie everywhere.

‘No, except it's rent day,' she grumbled. She cleared the table, then offered Walter a seat. Since she'd come back to Paradise Court, he'd taken up their friendship in his old, steady way. He never tried to romance her though, and never referred to what had once been between them. She caught him looking at her with concern and a hand went to her hair to straighten it. ‘Thanks for bringing me these.' She put the bundle of papers on to the table.