Paradise Court (23 page)

Florrie regained her momentum and began to badger him once more. ‘Well, he ain't gonna be a father to the kid, is he? So in a way she's right. And the sooner Jess gets out and about and finds herself someone else who will be, the better. Tell her she can go to this dance, Wilf. She needs your blessing.'

‘First time for years,' he grumbled. Then he straightened up and shrugged. ‘He seems a decent sort at any rate.'

‘Go tell her!'

Florrie stood and watched her brother's broad back, stooping a little as he eased his stiff legs up the steep cellar steps. He carried his troubles well, considering. Sewell had recently warned Frances not to hold out too many hopes for the trial, just in case. She'd come home white as a sheet and passed the message on to Duke. ‘Don't tell the others,' he said to Florrie. ‘There's no point dragging them down no more.'

She knew he nattered and worried about Robert too. It was a couple of weeks since they'd had a letter from him. Two sons in the firing line, if you looked on the black side. Poor old man, he needed all the help he could get.

Annie Wiggin did brisk business on her haberdashery stall during the week leading up to the dance at the Town Hall. She sold silk flowers for head-dresses and corsages, all shades of ribbon to thread through lace collars and cuffs, tiny buttons of pearl and glass, filigree buckles and the inevitable yards of delicate lace.

Late on the Friday, Jess sent Hettie down the market. The mission was to, ‘buy something to brighten up this bodice when I've finished running it up on the machine'. Her feet treadled hard and her hands steered the silky jade-coloured fabric through the swiftly stabbing needle. She held a clutch of pins in the corner of her mouth, and mumbled that it would never be finished in time. She would have to go to the dance in her ordinary day wear of white blouse and blue skirt.

‘Calm down, Jess.' Hettie had finished her day's task of altering waistbands on three pairs of trousers. She clattered her scissors down on the table and stood up. ‘There's heaps of time. And it's gonna look lovely on you.'

Jess came to the end of a seam. She took the pins from her mouth and put them in a shallow tin. ‘It ain't had no proper tacking. I just slung it together in a big rush.' She held up the nearly complete garment for inspection.

‘It looks fine to me.'

‘It ain't too low-cut?' Jess asked. ‘You don't think it needs a bit more lace round the neckline to raise it?' The bodice was shaped and cut to show off both bust and arms.

Hettie laughed. ‘I told you, it looks fine to me. I'll nip down to Annie's for matching ribbon, so we can ruche it up here around
the shoulders. With my black skirt and belt to finish things off, you'll be the best-dressed girl there!'

Hettie rushed off to consult with Annie, who showed her which ribbon would best do the job. Jess's dark hair, with its fashionable wave, needed a pale cream flower or two to set it off. ‘What about you, Ett? Ain't you going dancing with your sister?'

Hettie blushed. ‘No. Sadie's going along early with young Charlie Ogden, but I'm staying home to help with the baby. Dancing ain't for me these days, Annie.' She paid for the ribbon and flowers.

‘Why not? It was, not so long since.' Annie gave her a reproachful look. ‘Life and soul of the party, you was, Hettie Parsons.' She launched into a well-meaning speech. ‘No need to chuck out your dancing shoes for good, is there, girl? We all know it was a terrible thing what happened to Daisy, and you had a nasty shock yourself, finding her like that. But it don't mean you have to go overboard on the tambourine bashing and hymn singing, do it? Why not have a bit of fun as well?'

Taken aback, Hettie defended herself hotly. ‘I signed the pledge, Annie. I'm not going near if there's alcohol on sale, I promised.' She regarded the oath seriously, taking it to earnest extremes.

‘That's rich, with you living right over the Duke!' Annie scoffed. ‘What's your pa say about you saving poor sinners and helping to empty his till while you're about it?'

‘He ain't said much,' Hettie replied quietly.

‘I bet he ain't. I expect he's waiting for you to grow out of it, girl. Honest to God, Ett, it breaks my heart to see you decked out in that bleeding horrible uniform, when I think of how you used to be.'

‘It's vanity that lands us in trouble in the first place,' Hettie insisted. ‘Anyhow, I made up my mind.'

‘Pity. It used to brighten my day, seeing your hats all trimmed up with the bits and pieces I sold you off this stall. Pretty as a picture!'

‘Well, I am sorry about that, Annie.' Hettie smiled self-consciously and squeezed Annie's hand.

‘Not half so sorry as the scuttlers round here. They miss you
and Daisy something rotten.' She looked wistfully at Hettie's pale, serious face. ‘No hard feelings?' she checked.

‘No hard feelings. I'm happy the way I am now. I feel I can be a bit of use.' She set off home with Jess's carefully wrapped trimmings, glad she'd stood her ground. They'd have m get used to her and her new mission; her Quakerish uniform and tambourine bashing, as Annie called it.

Frances came in from work just as Jess was trying on her finished outfit. She took off her hat and coat and hung them in significant silence, avoiding looking directly at Jess.

Already in a bad state of nerves over the whole business of accepting Maurice's invitation, Jess's confidence collapsed. ‘Oh, Frances, you don't think I should go, do you?' She came up close to her unresponsive sister, while Hettie and Sadie hung back frowning.

‘I never said that,' Frances replied, sinking into a chair. ‘I'm all in. Sadie, make me a cup of tea, there's a good girl.'

‘You don't have to say nothing,' Jess went on. ‘I can tell by your face you think it ain't right.'

Sadie had already jumped a few steps ahead. ‘Does that mean I can't go neither?' she wailed at Hettie. She knew Duke would only let her go to the early part of the dance if Jess was there to supervise things. She stood in her best blouse, hair swept up for the very first time, close to tears.

Frances intervened with a weary shake of her head. ‘Don't take on, Sadie. Just make me that cuppa, will you?'

Miserably hanging her head, Sadie went off into the kitchen.

There was an uneasy silence as Jess considered sending back word to Maurice. Frances's disapproval would hurt her badly and bring a poor atmosphere into the house when they least needed it. ‘It ain't right, is that what you think?' she persisted.

The phrase struck a chord in Frances's memory. It was Billy's phrase before he kissed her. Suddenly her rigid distinction between right and wrong began to crumble. It was true, she'd thought Jess's affair with Maurice, coming close on the heels of the baby and in
the very midst of their worries over Ernie, was ill advised. Better to wait at least until after the trial, she thought. As she stood all day and weighed, rolled and cut paste for pills, she divided moral issues into neat and tidy boxes, and thought life could follow prescribed patterns. Jess shouldn't enjoy herself with a new boyfriend. Ernie should be at home, not in prison. Everyone should do what was right.

But her memory played this sudden trick. She pictured herself in Billy's arms responding to his kiss, not fending him off as she should have done. Love, longing, loneliness were enormous forces pushing people into one another's arms. Who was she to judge? Humbly, Frances took hold of Jess's hand. ‘Don't mind me,' she sighed. ‘I'm just tired out. Why don't you go off and have a good time? You and Sadie with your Cake Walk and your Dandy Dance!'

Sadie came in with the tea to hear the last part of this speech. Her face lit up, then she teased her oldest sister. ‘Frances, it ain't the Cake Walk no more. That's old hat. No, these days it's the Turkey Trot. I been practising with Charlie!' She went and dragged Hettie across the floor with her arms slung around her shoulders, walking with wriggling sideways steps.

‘Oh my Lord!' Jess looked at Frances in wild-eyed alarm.

‘Go on, get out of here quick before I change my mind,' Frances moaned. She put one hand over her eyes and squinted through her fingers as Sadie rushed for her jacket. ‘And mind you're back by ten!' she called.

Sadie and Jess grinned, and sailed downstairs together.

Maurice and Charlie met up with Jess and Sadie in the fuzzy halo of the street-lamp outside the pub. They walked four abreast up the greasy pavement, hopped on to a tram and joined the steady stream of young people heading for the Town Hall.

The dance was held in a huge central room bedecked with strings of coloured electric lights. It buzzed with expectation as the band arrived on the raised platform to strike up the first tune. One novelty of the occasion was the array of uniforms on show. Recent recruits to the army and navy, or veterans sent home on leave
strutted through the hall. Khaki mingled with navy-blue under giant coloured posters which displayed men at arms, women in nurses' uniform or busy in munitions factories. ‘Are YOU in this?' read the challenge below. It was the first time the war had seemed real to many of the young civilians gathered there, but the uniforms seemed to inspire rather than depress them. Many minds were made up as they talked, wide-eyed and eager, to the battle-scarrred heroes of the day.

Teddy Cooper turned up in the grey-blue uniform of a pilot in the Royal Flying Corps; the most glamorous outfit of all with its belted jacket and breeches. After nearly a month of haggling at home, he'd conceded defeat and agreed to serve the war effort, but on his own terms. Not for him the mud and sweat of a Flanders field. He preferred the soaring blue reaches and a mission to bring back information on enemy positions. His mother complained of the danger involved in piloting the flimsy bi-planes, but Teddy declared they were safe as houses. He'd fight a clean war of darting raids across the Channel. A rumour that the Flying Corps was preparing to drop bombs on the enemy sounded to him an exciting but unlikely development.

So he stepped into the dashing uniform and role in adventurous spirits. The Town Hall dance would be a good send-off; a chance to be admired and envied.

Ugly duckling civilians like Walter Davidson and the Chalky White gang hung back in the shadows while the boys in uniform glided on to the dance floor with the best-looking girls. Chalky, adrift again from his latest girlfriend, eventually picked up Olwyn Williams, who'd recently ditched her job in the shirt sweatshop at Coopers' and taken work as a bus conductress. The war had opened many jobs to women, and Olwyn was one of the first to seize the new opportunity. She liked the uniform: a military-style jacket, a shorter than usual plaid skirt and jaunty brimmed hat with its company badge. And she liked the independence. As she swung by on Chalky's arm, she winked at Amy Ogden. Amy had picked up Syd Swan, regarded as a slimy customer by most of the girls. ‘That's the ticket, clippie!' Syd grinned inanely at Olwyn. Amy pulled him
back on course to instruct him in elementary tango. He enjoyed the sweaty, grappling aspect, but the nifty footwork was beyond him.

Soon the music and heat generated by hundreds of dancing couples set the evening in swing. Charlie danced energetically with Sadie, having picked up more handy tips from the American bioscopes, where women with crimped hair and pouting dark lipstick swooned in the arms of broad-shouldered, square-jawed heroes. Jess stood at the side with her arm linked through Maurice's. She smiled at the new style of dancing. ‘I hope you don't expect me to try nothing like that,' she said, looking prim.

Maurice was flattered by the effort Jess had put into her appearance this evening. There were complicated swirls in her thick hair, and tiny pearl-drop earrings in perpetual motion as she turned her head this way and that. Her sloping shoulders and full breasts showed to advantage in her new, tight-fitting bodice. Her arms were long and slender. ‘What, ain't you never done the tango?' he asked, taking her by the waist and leading her on to the dance floor. ‘It's easy. You just slide around a bit. Let yourself go, trust me!'

Jess laughed. ‘If you let go of me, Maurice Leigh, I'll crown you!' She felt herself tipped backwards in a dangerous, plunging motion, then pulled upright by the strength of his arm around her waist.

He held her, his cheek against hers, feeling her soft, smooth skin against him. He felt her mouth smile. ‘Oh, I won't let go of you, Jess, don't worry,' he whispered. He pulled her close, to breathe in the clean, perfumed smell of her hair.

The strutting music of the tango merged seamlessly into a more sedate waltz, leaving only the romantically inclined couples on the floor. Sadie and Charlie went off hand in hand to the refreshment bar. Amy Ogden struggled into a more upright position with Syd Swan, whose arm still snaked around her, too close for comfort. Chalky threaded through the couples in the opposite direction to his ex-partner, Olwyn. He paused to wink at Syd and then considered Jess as she danced with Maurice. He knew enough street gossip to register surprise that she was out on the town. Slowly he lit up
a cigarette, flicked the match to the floor and circled in their direction, preparing a cutting remark. He fancied somehow hitting the newcomer, Maurice Leigh, with the bombshell about Jess's baby. With narrowed eyes he halted again arid exhaled smoke by jutting out his bottom lip and directing it straight up in front of him.

Maurice spotted Chalky's intention to come over and upset things. He could see the sneering face draw near. Jess was oblivious, her head against his shoulder. This was awkward timing; Maurice could hardly snap Jess out of the slow, smooth movement of the waltz without alerting her to Chalky's sly approach.

Jess felt Maurice stiffen, and glanced up to see the cause. Chalky White stood close by, in the middle of the revolving pairs, his snake eyes fixed on them.

‘What's he think he's staring at?' Maurice muttered, now that Jess had seen.

‘Take no notice,' she pleaded She wanted the music to stop so they could walk swiftly away.

But then luckily Chalky's attention was diverted. Amy had spotted Teddy Cooper in his smart uniform and whispered something to her new boyfriend, Syd Swan, which made him swear loudly, then round up a couple of mates. They soon started to square up to Teddy and his officer-type pals, facing each other in a corner of the hall. A space had cleared and a ripple of excitement spread through the room. The band wavered, then played on, now almost ignored Chalky responded quickly, dropping his vendetta against Maurice and roughly pushing through the middle of the dance floor to side with Syd. Jess breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Time I went and rounded up young Sadie,' she told Maurice. ‘I promised Pa I'd send her home safe and sound.'

Maurice kept one eye on the trouble brewing in the corner; shirt-sleeves were already rolled up, each side taunted and mocked the other. He went with Jess to the refreshment table. ‘Let's walk with them,' he suggested. ‘There's a bit of a scrap on the cards over there. They can sort it out while we take Sadie home, then we can come back and pick up where we left off.'