The Favourite Child (33 page)

‘Just goes to show that for all street betting might be illegal, it’s a good deal safer than speculating with shares,’ said some.

‘Thank goodness it won’t affect us,’ those comfortably ensconced in good jobs declared.

Simeon wasn’t too sure. There were strong links between the cotton-producing states of America and Lancashire where it was woven into fine damask and calico. He watched the expressions of concern on the face of his employer, Josiah Collins, and wondered.

Emily’s recovery continued apace. She certainly seemed well enough to hold court in her parlour each day and instruct her new daughter-in-law in the mysteries of housewifery. Far from resenting this intrusion, Jinnie gave every appearance of welcoming Emily’s advice and was always willing to fetch her wrap, should she feel a draught; call for a tea tray or bring her a cup of Ovaltine. She would wind up the gramophone or clean the brasses; read an episode of
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
or darn stockings; hold a skein of wool out for hours on end as her mother-in-law wound it, or thread needles as she sewed. The young bride seemed eager to learn all she could and, when she wasn’t going out with her new husband, was quite content to confine herself safely indoors for hours on end. Consequently, a surprising rapport developed between the two ladies.

‘What a blessing she is,’ Simeon would be heard to declare, several times a day.

‘She’s certainly far more biddable than Isabella,’ Emily would agree.

A favourite child indeed.

Bella called upon her parents regularly every other Sunday afternoon although relations with her father continued strained and with Emily had sunk to a new low now that her daughter had fallen so low as to take a house in the ‘slums’.

Not that Bella had the time or even the energy to worry too much about her parent’s disappointment in her. She continued to work at Kendal Milne, catching an early tramcar three mornings a week to Deansgate and back again late each evening while resenting every moment that took her from her beloved clinic and the care of her ‘ladies’. Each day was filled from dawn till dusk with activity and work of some sort and at times she felt bone weary, close to exhaustion.

And she went on seeing Billy Quinn.

In addition, a string of crises sprang up at the clinic. Eli Solomon, having given his wife another chance had been presented with yet another daughter and was considering divorce, much to his poor wife’s shock and dismay. It took all of Bella’s charm to talk him out of the notion and remind him that he was really quite fond of all his girls. In the end, though largely out of economic reasons since the legal bills would be crippling, he gave the marriage a stay of execution.

Bella went to see the second Mrs Clarke, a young girl of nineteen who’d come to mind his children and ended up as his wife because Reg was unable to live without his nightly comforts. She hoped to persuade the girl to be more sensible than poor Sally. Instead, Bella found herself subjected to a lecture on how a good Christian wife must not be a stumbling block to her husband’s eternal salvation. In vain did she plead that the good Lord wouldn’t want the same terrible fate to befall his new wife as his first.

Reg Clarke simply insisted that the outcome was ordained.

Bella, contemplating the tangle and tragedy that the need for sex engendered, gazed thoughtfully upon the creams, appliances and instruction leaflets stocked at her clinic and wondered how much longer she could restrain Quinn, or even herself. Would she ever be tempted to break the golden rule? She prayed not.

Before she found a solution to these problems, a second patient got pregnant which of course was made much of in the local press. Bella called upon the woman concerned, noted the open tin of Nestle’s sweetened milk standing on the statutory newspaper shrouded table, the pitiful crust of bread beside it and the dish of beef dripping and was unsurprised when the woman couldn’t rightly remember where she’d put the appliance that had been given her, together with careful instructions on its use.

‘I’m not blaming the clinic,’ she protested.

The local churches, however, were only too ready to cast blame. Bella was classed as an ‘impertinent, middle-class busybody’, and charged with turning Christian marriage into ‘legalised prostitution’. Hostile articles were again featured on the pages of the Roman Catholic press, using emotive words such as ... ‘powers of evil’ ... ‘filthy things’ ... ‘unsavoury subjects’ and ‘defiling the minds of the people.’ The result was to bring ever more clients flocking to the clinic and they were forced to extend their opening hours.

Late into the night, when she should have been catching up on her rest, Bella spent hours writing letters in response to this criticism, and in seeking out new supporters. Her days were filled with her work at Kendal Milne and her evenings and days off with house calls and clinic work, plus the planning and holding of regular meetings as she strove to raise money to keep the clinic afloat. Far from resenting this, Bella welcomed the work, drove herself ever harder, anything to banish the images that disturbed her sleep and haunted her thoughts in any idle moment of her day.

Would she succumb to Quinn’s charms or should she, as Jinnie had long ago advised her to do, rid him from her life completely?

‘You can’t go on in this road for much longer,’ Violet protested, anxiously watching the exhaustion grow worse as Bella attempted to squeeze in more and more work. Dr Syd agreed.

‘It’s damaging your health and where would we be if you were taken ill?’

In the end she was. Bella caught a chill which confined her to bed for the better part of two weeks. It was Jinnie who called each day to nurse her, bringing steaming basins of Mrs Dyson’s broth and little pots of calf’s foot jelly, turning Bella into a reluctant patient. On the tenth day when Jinnie came, it was to find her dressed and preparing to go out on her rounds. The two girls had one of their fiery quarrels which finally resulted in an uneasy truce when Bella agreed to put off her return for a day or two longer but refused, absolutely, to return to her bed.

‘Sit by this fire then, and don’t set a foot outside that door. By heck,’ Jinnie said. ‘You’re even more stubborn than Emily.’

Early one evening, just before Bella was due to leave for the clinic, she realised that the footsteps marching in through her front door were not those of Jinnie, Violet, or the persistently cheerful Aunt Edie. These were heavier, with a slow and measured tread. Even as her heart jumped with recognition at the familiar sound he was there before her, standing in her kitchen doorway. For an instant she felt almost flattered that he’d come. Not having seen her for so long because of her illness, he must have missed her and deliberately sought her out. But then the sight of that laconic smile on his handsome face brought with it a wash of confused emotion. Disturbed about where this unexpected visit might lead, shame of where she might
want
it to lead all mixed with that delicious cocktail of danger and excitement. But it was anger at his intrusion which Bella chose to use as her salvation.

‘How dare you walk in unannounced,’ as if no one else would ever do such a thing without a written invitation. She stood, hands clenched, cheeks blazing with anger while Quinn simply laughed, tossed his cap on the table and told her to put the kettle on.

‘I’ll do no such thing.’ She was gathering her composure now, was almost certain that the fire in her cheeks was subsiding. He strolled into the sanctuary of her small kitchen as if he owned the place, thumbs hooked into his leather belt, pacing about like a panther on the prowl. ‘Tis a fine place that ye have here, so why so coy at showing it off?’

Bella stood paralysed with foreboding, uncertain what to do next. ‘You’ve no right to come here. I told you never to come my house unless I asked you to, which I haven’t, so far as I am aware. Get out!’

‘That’s not a very friendly welcome, to be sure.’

‘It isn’t meant to be. I mean it, Quinn. I want you to leave. This minute.’ A tiny thrill of excitement was pulsing somewhere deep inside but Bella ignored it, holding open the door to indicate she meant what she said. Quinn made a parody of puckering his brow, as if giving the matter due consideration, then softly chuckled.

‘Why don’t ye stop pretending that ye can’t wait for me to skin the clothes off yer back. Haven’t ye been panting fer it ever since ye clapped eyes on me. Admit it now my lovely. Can’t I see it even now in those bright hazel eyes of yours. Sure and aren’t they the loveliest in all of Salford.’

Bella could feel herself drawn by the desire she read so plainly in the deeply hooded gaze riveted upon her. She could feel her limbs start to tremble and weaken, her will power fading. Summoning all her strength she tilted her chin with characteristic obstinacy. ‘You won’t get round me that way, not with all your smarmy flattery and soft Irish words. I want you out f this house, Quinn.
Now
!’

Snaking out one hand he grasped her by the collar and pulled her to him. ‘I’ll do as I damned well please. Have ye not learned that yet?’ His mouth claimed hers and for a moment, despite her better judgement, Bella became lost to everything but the sensations exploding and ricocheting inside her. It wasn’t pleasure that she experienced, merely a desperate urgency, a desire for him to appease whatever this need was that burned within her. Dear heaven, how she wanted him.

While one hand moved to encircle her throat, the other slid up her blouse to fondle her warm breast. He wasn’t gentle with her. The rough skin of his hand grazed the softness of her skin; his mouth against hers was hard and brutal, the unshaved stubble on his chin rubbing her face raw and yet when the kiss ended, she whimpered with regret.

Quinn lifted his brows in mocking surprise and chuckled with quiet satisfaction as he ran the blunt tip of one coarse finger over her moist lips. ‘So, tis more yer wanting, is it? And isn’t it about time that ye admitted ye can resist me no longer?’

‘N-no. I’m sorry, I never meant - n-never intended to encourage you.’ Damnation, why was she stammering, like some stupid schoolgirl. Bella half turned away, thrusting him aside. ‘I think you’d better leave now, Quinn, before this goes any further.’

The gesture infuriated him, inflaming his temper and he grasped hold of a fistful of her hair, slamming her against the table, jarring the edge of it against her back and making her squeal with surprised pain. ‘I’ll go when I want to and not a moment before. Is that clear, my lovely? I’ll not have some woman telling me what I can and cannot do.’

‘For God’s sake, what’s got into you? Let go of me this minute. I’ll make my own decisions in my own house, thank you very much.’

He began to laugh then and this was no soft Irish chuckle; this was a deep throated, harsh sound that bubbled up from the depths of his dark soul, curling his lip into a cruel sardonic twist. ‘Now wherever did ye get that daft notion from? Ye’ll do what
I
say, if’n ye know what’s good for ye.
I’m
the one in control and don’t ye ever forget it. Now get up them stairs afore I drag ye up by the hair.’ He tightened his grip in order to emphasise his point, making her wince with pain. I’ve had enough of this coyness of yours. Tis time to stop playing games and behave like the pair of adults we surely are.’

Bella was shaking now, though whether with rage or fear she couldn’t have rightly said. She felt trapped, intensely vulnerable and entirely defenceless. He’d released the hair now, only to circle her neck, caressing it with a false tenderness, the tone of his voice taunting, the cruel light in his bright blue eyes holding not a shred of pity. Why had she imagined that the notorious Billy Quinn would ever respect her privacy? What sort of naive fool was she? Don’t children who play with matches always get burned?

‘Come to think of it though, we can manage well enough here, can we not?’ he was saying, his probing hand lifting her skirt even as he spoke, pushing his hand between her legs.

Bella was instantly reminded of the odious doctor and felt defiled. In spite of the intimacy she’d allowed Quinn in the past, now his touch became an insult to her good name and reputation. He became just another slimy toad trying to take advantage of her ready access to birth control methods.

Yet pure terror held her in his thrall.

Unable to either move or speak, Bella gazed into the steel blue eyes, stupefied, rigid with self loathing, wishing herself anywhere but in this impossible situation. Why hadn’t she listened to Jinnie? Why hadn’t she taken note of her warning and shown more sense? She longed for Quinn to go, to leave her in peace, all passion in her quite dead. Bella could almost wonder, in that moment, what on earth she had ever seen in his facile charms. He was a different man now, like some despicable monster and herself a naive fool to be taken in by soft words and flattering love making. She must have been out of her mind.