A Brighter Tomorrow, Maggie Ford [types of ebook readers .TXT] 📗

their horde of boisterous and unruly kids (not that her own youngsters were any better), the woman scruffy and her old man with the look of someone up to no good. ‘Different when your family was there,’ she said. ‘Now the place smells something awful. I’m sure ’er ole man can’t be bothered to walk two yards to the lav outside. I’ve seen ’im piddling up against me fence. I’ll ’ave ’im abart it one day, see if I don’t!’

The woman nattered on and on. Ellie would have made an excuse to leave much sooner if it hadn’t been for Mrs Sharp’s eldest son. It being Sunday, he wasn’t at work and Ellie’s mind was more taken up by him.

She’d never taken much notice of Ronnie Sharp when living next door. They’d grown up together as kids, but having been away for nigh on three months, she saw him in a new light. In that time he seemed to have grown taller and very upright. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, he’d always had a nice face. Now it caught her as being even nicer.

She listened entranced as he talked of his work in ‘the Print’, as he called it, the News Chronicle. He’d started there at fourteen as an office boy running errands and messages, picking up mailbags from the post office. She hadn’t been that interested in him then. Now she found herself all ears.

‘It’s a whopping big place,’ he said proudly. ‘They must have more’n a couple of thousand working there. Me – I work in the wire room, an important part of the paper. I’m still learnin’ of course – sort of apprentice. One of the blokes, Mr Middleton, says he sees I’m very interested. I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks’ time and he’s takin’ on teaching me. There’s lots to learn an’ it’s long hours – lots of night shifts – but it pays good. I get good overtime.’

After a while he had turned to asking her what she was doing.

‘I’m a parlourmaid,’ she told him as they ate the cakes his mother had made that morning. He had wrinkled his nose – a nice straight nose.

‘No money in that and I ’eard they make you work ’ard.’

‘I don’t mind,’ she’d said, taking delight in his attention.

‘Do you still draw them pictures you used to?’

‘Too busy.’ She’d forgotten how she’d once enjoyed drawing – things like horses and carts, people, buildings, sometimes trees – not many around here.

‘You used ter be really good at it,’ he muttered almost sorrowfully. ‘I used to think you was proper talented.’

She had thought so too. It would be nice to take it up again, but what time did she have? None whatsoever.

She had said goodbye reluctantly to Ronnie, having it in mind that on her next day off she would come and visit again, though it wouldn’t be for another month.

As for Cook accusing her of heaven knew what, she had never done them sort of things. At last she’d realized what the woman was getting at, and told her so in no uncertain terms, saying that whatever was wrong with her it wasn’t that. Her indignation stilled Mrs Jenkins into silence.

Nine

Listening through the open kitchen door this warm May morning to the sounds of vomiting coming from the outside lavatory, Mrs Jenkins made up her mind that Jay had certainly not told her the truth yesterday. If that girl wasn’t around three months gone, she’d eat her hat.

Her first thought was to go straight to the mistress and lay her suspicions at her feet, but kindness of heart stopped her. Mrs Lowe only needed one excuse to get rid of Jay. But she wouldn’t want to part with the girl’s younger sister, and Ellie would be all alone out there in that wide world.

She had no doubts that, after a while, the girl would learn to fend for herself; but what if she was wrong and Jay hadn’t got herself pregnant? She might be the cause of her losing her position. No, it was best to tackle her before jumping the gun. Then it might be better to take the matter to the master himself. After all, he was a doctor and level-headed. His wife would probably take off in hysterics or something.

As Ellie came back into the kitchen, looking white and strained, to faintly mutter an apology for absenting herself from her work for a moment or two, she said sternly, ‘Come with me.’ Without waiting for a reply she made for her little parlour with Jay close behind, now with a hang-dog expression, no one being ordered into that holy of holies except for a dressing-down. ‘Close the door,’ she said abruptly.

‘Now, young lady,’ she began, turning to face her as Ellie did as she was told. ‘What lies have you been telling me?’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Cook; I ain’t told you no lies.’ The tone was insolent and resentful.

Nora Jenkins tightened her lips. ‘Oh yes you have! Now I want the truth from you, girl. The truth! Have you been up to tricks with a bloke? And don’t you dare to turn your back on me!’

Her rather strident voice rose in volume as Ellie turned away. ‘Walk out of this kitchen, girl, and I’ll see that you’re out of this house – you hear me?’ she blared.

‘Now,’ she went on in a more moderate tone as Ellie turned back to face her, chastened, though the green eyes still stared resentfully from under the brows. ‘I don’t want trouble in this house, but if you are pregnant I will have to tell the mistress…’

She broke off as Ellie gave an alarmed gasp.

‘Or maybe the master,’ she added quickly. ‘This matter is really for a woman to hear, but I know how things stand between you and the mistress. I’ve not been cook/housekeeper here all these years without knowing the goings-on in my place of employment.’

Nora Jenkins gave a half-smile, which was not acknowledged. She let the