Читать книгу An Orphan’s Courage - Cathy Sharp, Cathy Sharp - Страница 8

‘Are you certain she said I was to go for an interview today?’ Jinny asked, looking at Nellie as she pushed a mug of hot strong tea in front of her together with a slab of bread and jam. ‘Just like that, really? I asked at half a dozen places this week and they all said to come back when I had some experience of work …’ She spread her hands wide. ‘How can I get work experience if no one gives me a chance?’

The radio was playing behind them, the music of Bill Haley and His Comets blasting out, making Jinny want to dance the way her friends had shown her at last year’s Christmas party at school, when they’d put records on the Dansette record player that a teacher had brought in.

‘Well, yer’ve got your chance now thanks to my cousin’s daughter,’ Nellie said. ‘I saw Hannah when I was down the market, a few days after you left school and told ’er you needed a job. I said you wanted to work for St Saviour’s. It weren’t quite the truth, but a little white lie does no harm now and then.’ Nellie wagged her three chins and laughed as she saw Jinny’s smile widen. ‘That’s it, love. You’d have somewhere to live as well as a job, see – and it’s not that I don’t love havin’ you ’ere but you ain’t safe while that devil is still livin’ next door …’

‘Oh, Nellie, why couldn’t you’ve been my mother?’ Jinny said and got up to hug her. The music on the radio had changed and the words of Elvis Presley’s record ‘All Shook Up’ flooded the room. ‘Listen, he’s your favourite …’

‘Yeah, I like Elvis,’ Nellie chuckled and turned the wireless up until her neighbour banged on the thin wall. ‘Miserable old meow she is …’

‘Oh Nellie,’ Jinny said and hugged her. ‘I do love you. You’re a good friend to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it hadn’t been for you …’

‘Go on with yer, girl,’ Nellie said and gave her a friendly push. ‘Get that tea down yer and then go and ’ave a look what you’re goin’ ter wear fer the interview. I reckon that navy blue skirt yer made last week would be about right, but what about a blouse? I’d lend yer somethin’ of mine, but they’d drown yer …’ She went off into a peal of laughter and Jinny laughed with her at the idea.

‘I’ve got my white school blouse,’ Jinny said with a sigh. ‘It’s the last thing I had new for school. Ma grudged it to me but she had to give me the money, because the old one split at the seams. I’ll pay you back for the material for my skirt, Nellie – I promise.’

‘I told yer it don’t matter,’ Nellie said and took her purse down from the shelf. ‘’Ere, go and get yerself somethin’ orf the market … and don’t refuse. When yer earnin’ yer can give me a treat … take me to the flicks or somethin’.’

‘Yes, I shall,’ Jinny promised. ‘We’ll go to see Elvis in his film if you like …’

Nellie’s face lit up at the promise, even though she’d already seen her hero on the big screen twice. She pressed a ten-shilling note into Jinny’s hand. ‘Get a good one, girl. Somethin’ smart, like, not second-hand rubbish. I saw some pretty new blouses for five bob on the market – that stall near the fishmonger. Well … not too near, ’cos then they’d smell like ’e does …’ She went off into a cackle of laughter.

‘Nellie, you do say awful things,’ Jinny teased, but she took the money and slipped it into her pocket as she reached for her school coat. It was worn and threadbare on the sleeves, but better than the shapeless dress she was wearing. She would wear it to go shopping, even though it was so warm she didn’t need a coat. As she aimed a kiss at Nellie’s cheek and left, she made a mental vow to repay everything the good-hearted woman had done for her.

Jinny had done what she could by helping out about the house as much as she was allowed, but Nellie wanted no repayment, and she would have to find ingenious ways of giving back the kindness she’d received in this house, but once she was earning money she could bring her friend fruit, sweets and perhaps the latest records – and she would take her out, to the flicks and other places.

All she needed was a job, but that was easier said than done. She’d started by sending out polite letters, but when most of them had either gone unanswered or brought abrupt rejections, Jinny had started a tour of shops: Woolworths, Peacock’s, and the Home and Colonial, as well as the Co-op and a couple of dress shops, also factories, cafés and hotels. She’d been offered two hours scrubbing out offices in the mornings and had thought she might take it, but Nellie discouraged her.

‘If you get stuck wiv something like that, you’ll be in a rut and never get out of it,’ she’d said and patted her hand. ‘I’ll ask about a bit, love. See if I can find out about something better …’

Jinny had agreed but it hadn’t stopped her looking. Unfortunately, nothing had turned up and by the time she’d applied for the scrubbing job, it had gone. Nellie had said it was just as well, though Jinny had regretted it, but now she felt excited. She was being offered a proper interview at St Saviour’s by some people named Sister Beatrice and Sandra Milvern, and that sounded important. She didn’t know what sort of a job it was but she didn’t really care. Anything decent and legal would do; she just wanted to earn some money and repay Nellie’s kindness – and her friend was right, it would be better to get away from here so that she wouldn’t have to put up with Jake’s glaring eyes every time he saw her.

‘Bitch,’ he’d hissed at her the last time he’d blocked her path, his hand gripping her arm in a punishing hold. ‘I’ll get even with yer one of these days. Just wait and see …’

Jinny hadn’t answered. She’d been frightened of pushing him into something violent, but with Nellie’s husband standing at the door waiting for her, Jake had left it at veiled threats. He hadn’t wanted one of Bert Strong’s hammer fists in his face although Bert was quite a bit older than Jake, who couldn’t be more than early thirties, he was a big tough man who worked as a Docker, an amateur champion boxer in his day.

The sun was warm and Jinny undid her threadbare coat, wishing she’d left it at home, but she felt like a scarecrow in her old dress, which was one of the few things her mother had brought round and shoved in Nellie’s arms when Jinny was out one day.

‘You’ve got the ungrateful little bitch, so you keep ’er,’ Ma had hissed drunkenly. ‘I don’t want ’er back …’

Jinny wished that her mother had brought her extra shoes and more underwear, but she suspected that anything worth selling had gone down the second-hand stall for beer money. Jinny had been left with the school things she’d been wearing and a couple of old dresses; plus a nightgown, some knickers, a cardigan and a skirt that had seen better days. None of it was good enough to sell or Jinny would’ve sold it and bought material to make something new, but Ma hadn’t given her anything worth having.

She bit her lip, feeling the sting of tears. Why did her mother blame her for what had happened? She’d come round to Nellie’s screaming at the top of her voice that Jinny was a scheming bitch and sporting a black eye.

‘It’s your fault ’e give me this ’ere,’ she’d yelled and gone for Jinny until Nellie had hauled her off and given her a push into the nearest chair. After Nellie had finished telling her off, she’d looked a bit ashamed and said, ‘Well, she must ’ave flaunted ’erself to make ’im go fer ’er like that …’

‘’E’s a pig and a brute,’ Nellie said bluntly. ‘You know that, Mabel Hollis, so don’t come round ’ere blamin’ that girl; ’e’d ’ave anythin’ in a skirt and Jinny’s a lovely young girl – in case you ’adn’t noticed …’

‘Too damned pretty,’ her mother said and started crying tears of self-pity. ‘What chance ’ave I got when she’s around? They look at me an’ then they look at ’er and I’ve ’ad it …’

‘That ain’t Jinny’s fault. She don’t encourage Jake and you know it – but she’s stayin’ wiv me now so that’s it …’

Mabel glanced round the neat kitchen, taking in the painted dresser, which was fresh and bright and set with blue and white crockery, the scrubbed pine table, blue and white voile curtains at the windows, and mismatched chairs, and shining linoleum on the floor. Nellie didn’t have a better home than she did, but it just looked better – and it smelled better – and perhaps in that moment Mabel was aware of her failings as a mother and housewife.

‘Well, she’s better orf wiv you any road,’ she said and stopped crying. ‘I’ll bring ’er fings round then …’

She’d seemed ashamed of herself as she left, but when she’d brought the old clothes round later she’d been in a temper again, and had obviously decided that she would dispose of the better clothes that her daughter possessed.

Jinny was nearing the market in Petticoat Lane. The thought of the ten shillings in her purse was so exciting that she could hardly contain herself as she wandered from stall to stall, keeping her hand in her pocket to protect it from wandering fingers that might try to rob her. Pickpockets frequented the various lanes that housed the several markets in the area; all kinds of merchandise was sold in these lanes, second-hand clothes, shoes, and better clothes, as well as crockery; leather and cloth bags, straw hats, curios, and a variety of other goods in the lane itself, but in the next streets there were caged birds, food stalls, rags and pens containing rabbits and small livestock, like one-day-old chicks and ducks.

Jinny lingered by a stall selling new clothes. She looked through a rail of skirts, none of which were more than ten shillings, and found a tweed one she liked a lot, but what she really needed was a new blouse.

‘Sell yer that fer seven bob if yer want it, luv,’ the stallholder said and winked at Jinny. He had a nice smile and she didn’t feel in the least threatened. She was tempted, but knew she needed a blouse more than another skirt.

‘I like it, but I need a blouse,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps another week – if I get my job …’

‘Yer can ’ave it two bob down and half a crown a week,’ the trader offered. ‘Yer’ve got an ’onest face, luv.’

‘Thanks,’ Jinny said and smiled. ‘I need to see how much I can get a blouse for first – and maybe I’ll come back …’

‘Maybe you’ll win lots of money on Ernie’s new Premium Bonds,’ he said and grinned at her. ‘I’m gonna buy one fer a quid next month and if I win the big prize I’ll be rich – and then I’ll give all me customers half price …’

He nodded and Jinny moved off, passing the stalls selling new blouses, most of which would take the whole of her ten shillings and more, to the second-hand stalls further down. In the previous street the goods shown were much worn and unwashed, but on one stall with a notice proclaiming the goods were nearly new, the clothes were hung on hangers and nicely presented.

Jinny saw some lace blouses and went to look. She immediately saw two pretty ones that she liked; one was yellow voile with little white spots and the other was cream silk and had a lace frill at the cuffs and tiny pearl buttons. Both looked as if they might have been new, and she looked at the price tags with some apprehension. They were priced at six shillings each – which meant she could afford one of them and still put a deposit on the skirt.

‘Do you like ’em?’ The young woman came round from the back of the stall with a friendly smile. ‘They’re a bargain they are – cost you two guineas each new they would.’

‘They look as if they were expensive,’ Jinny agreed. ‘Is there anything wrong with them?’

‘Nah, they’re perfect, and I washed ’em meself,’ the girl said proudly. She was wearing a full skirt, pretty blouse and white bobby socks with winkle-picker shoes. ‘I’m good at things like that – you ’ave to be careful with real silk …’

‘Are they both silk?’ Jinny asked, feeling a flutter of excitement, because she’d thought they were lovely without knowing what they were. ‘Why did the woman who owned them sell them?’

‘She ’ad a baby and they wouldn’t fit – ’sides, she’s got loads of money … she was tellin’ me she were at Wimbledon when Althea Gibson beat Angela Mortimer. I ’eard it on the radio, but I’d love to ’ave been there – wouldn’t you?’

‘Oh, I’ve never thought about it … I did play tennis at school, but I wasn’t very good.’ Jinny touched the material of the silk blouses reverently. ‘I’d like them both but I can only afford one,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure which to choose …’

‘How much ’ave yer got?’

‘Eight shillings to spend on a blouse … I need two for something else,’ Jinny said and took the money from the purse in her pocket. ‘I think I’ll ’ave the cream one …’ she decided but before the stallholder could act someone snatched the money from Jinny’s hand and started running. ‘My money …’ she cried and started after him. ‘He’s pinched my money …’

People stared but made no attempt to stop the rogue from fleeing through the crowded market. He was getting away from her and Jinny’s heart sank as she saw him disappearing into the throng. The money Nellie had given her had gone and she wasn’t likely to see it again, and that meant she couldn’t buy anything. Tears pricked her eyes and she felt such a fool for holding the money out so eagerly to show the stallholder. What an idiot. She should’ve waited until the blouse was wrapped and kept a tight hold on it. Feeling miserable, Jinny turned away, knowing that she’d lost her money and there was nothing she could do.

Retracing her steps, she went back to the stall selling the blouses and almost in tears told the girl that she couldn’t buy either of them.

‘If you’ve got them next week, I’ll buy one – if I get my new job …’

‘Wanted it to make a good impression I expect?’

‘Yes, but my school …’ Jinny broke off as a hand clutched her arm and she turned to see a somewhat out-of-breath Micky Smith. He grinned as she stared at him and handed her the ten-shilling note he was holding. ‘What …?’

‘Sorry it took me so long to get ’im,’ Micky said, looking proud of his achievement. ‘I didn’t realise straight away what he’d done and then someone said you’d been robbed. I managed to get it off him but he got away … I’ll find ’im though and I’ll make ’im sorry …’

‘You got my money back?’ Jinny was disbelieving and then overwhelmed. ‘That’s so kind …’ She choked as the tears became very real. ‘Thanks. I can buy my blouse now …’

‘You can have the two for nine bob,’ the girl said. ‘I reckon you deserve it after a nasty turn like that. I don’t like thieves. They nick things off the stall if me and Dad don’t keep an eye out.’ She smiled at Micky. ‘You was brave and clever to get that back, Mick.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, his grin widening as the purchase went ahead and Jinny parted with the note for her paper bag and a shilling change. ‘Be seein’ yer, Maisie. Tell yer father I’ve got a bit of business fer ’im later …’

‘Righto,’ Maisie said and looked pleased as Jinny took her purchases and moved off, Micky at her side. ‘I’ll see yer later then …’

Micky nodded but didn’t look back at her. He walked with Jinny as she moved away. ‘The bugger didn’t hurt yer, did he? I wish I’d seen him sooner …’

‘No, I’m all right,’ Jinny said. ‘I’m going for a job interview tomorrow at St Saviour’s, and I needed a new blouse. I was just deciding which to buy and got my money out too quick – and he snatched it before I knew he was there.’

‘Probably been followin’ yer, waiting to get yer purse,’ Micky said. ‘They do that in the market when it’s busy. Was there anything else you need now?’

‘I was looking at a skirt but I bought two blouses so I can’t afford the deposit now …’

‘Let me buy it for you,’ Micky offered immediately and Jinny sensed his eyes on her dress. ‘You can’t go like that …’

‘I’ve got a decent skirt,’ Jinny said, ‘but the trader was kind – offered to let me pay so much a week. I’ll just tell him I may come back next week if I get my new job.’

‘Which stall is it?’

‘This one,’ Jinny said and blushed as the young stallholder came out to her. ‘I was just telling Micky I can’t buy the skirt today but if you’ve got it next week I may buy it …’

‘What yer, Mick,’ the trader said and grinned. ‘Nice bit of work. If this young lady is yer girl she can take the skirt and pay me later … no deposit needed …’

‘I’m no one’s girl,’ Jinny said quickly. ‘I’ve got a shilling – if you’ll take that as a deposit I’ll pay you as soon as I get my first wage …’

‘If Jinny says she’ll pay, she’ll pay,’ Micky assured him. ‘Wrap it up, Dave, and take her shillin’ …’

‘Anythin’ you say, mate,’ Dave said and put the skirt in the bag, accepting Jinny’s coin with a grin. ‘If it ain’t right you can bring it back – and pay me when yer like …’

‘I’ll pay next week if I get my job,’ Jinny said, her cheeks warm. ‘Thanks so much. I wanted to look smart for my interview and now I’m spoiled for choice.’

‘A pretty girl like you deserves nice things,’ Dave said. ‘I’ll see you right any time you want something new and can’t afford it …’ He grinned at her as she walked off with Micky.

When they were out of earshot, Jinny looked at Micky. ‘I got a bargain with my blouses and it was nice of Dave to let me have this before I paid him – but you’re not to give him the money, Micky. It wouldn’t be right. I’m not that sort of girl …’

Micky laughed softly, but there was a faint look of hurt in his eyes. ‘Did you think I would try to buy yer for the price of a skirt off the market? I wouldn’t be so cheap, Jinny – and I know you ain’t like that …’

‘I didn’t mean that …’ She blushed hotly, because she had and now She was ashamed of thinking ill of him. ‘I know you’re generous but …’

‘No, I ain’t.’ Micky shook his head. ‘I like yer, Jinny. I always ’ave – but if I decide to make a play fer yer, you’ll know – right? If yer my girl I’ll treat yer proper …’

Jinny shook her head, embarrassed. She was too young to be anyone’s girl and wasn’t sure what she wanted from life yet. Once upon a time all girls ever thought about was getting married, but these days life could be more exciting and, having made the break from her home, Jinny wanted to enjoy it before she settled down.

‘Who says I’ll be your girl?’ she asked crossly, more because she didn’t know what to say than because she was angry or disliked him.

‘Oh, you’ll have me if I ask,’ he said and smiled. ‘I ain’t the ignorant lout you think I am, Jinny. I can talk proper if I want but it suits me to be the way I am, especially with the market lads, right? Let me tell you now, Micky Smith is goin’ to be someone one day – one day soon – and when I am I’ll be lookin’ for the right girl. It might just be you, if yer lucky …’ He winked at her. ‘I’ll give yer a ride on me motorbike if yer good …’

‘You’ve never got a motorbike …’ Jinny stared in disbelief.

‘Oh, ain’t I?’ Micky laughed. ‘I’ll be orf to the Isle of Man one of these days – you’ll see …’

Jinny stopped in her tracks as he walked off laughing. Was he joking or had he really got a motorbike? He was such an odd mixture, the flashy wide boy at one moment, a dashing hero the next, chasing that thief to recover her money even though he was out of breath when he came back. His speech was as mixed up as he was and she believed that he could put on a posh voice when it suited him, just as he could be one of the lads in the market. She wondered again what he did to earn the kind of money he so obviously did; he wasn’t going to tell her, but whatever it was both Maisie and Dave had respected him, almost as if they looked up to him – as if he had influence or importance in their lives …

Jinny frowned. She had reason to be grateful to Micky but she wasn’t sure how she felt about him, or whether she wanted him to be important in her life or not. At the moment all she wanted was to be accepted for the job at St Saviour’s …