by Tania Crosse
‘What?’ Hillie was taken aback by Gert’s teasing question and her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. ‘Kit?’ she questioned. ‘Well, no. I mean, I suppose he’s good-looking enough. But Kit’s… well, he’s just Kit,’ she shrugged. ‘Your brother, and… Well, he’s like a brother to me, too.’
‘I suppose you’d rather Jimmy Baxter?’ Gert suggested, attempting to keep a straight face. But she couldn’t do so for more than a few seconds before she burst out laughing.
‘Oh, you!’ Hillie chuckled back, reaching out to give her friend a playful shove. ‘You’re incorrigible, Gertrude Parker!’
‘That’s why you like me so much. And trust me with your secrets.’ Gert’s face suddenly moved into serious lines and she hesitated a moment, glancing round as she dropped her voice. ‘You filled in that form yet?’
‘Yes, I have,’ Hillie whispered back. ‘I’ll be handing it in tomorrow. I told Mum, but you won’t say a word to anyone else, will you?’
‘Cross me heart,’ Gert assured her with a dramatic gesture. ‘If you get it, mind, I’ll miss having you next to us at the bench. Won’t get all highfalutin with me, though, will you?’
‘Course not. I’ve got to get it first, anyway.’
‘They’d be daft not to choose you.’ Gert stated her opinion so forcefully that it brought a rueful smile to Hillie’s lips.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she sighed.
Gert tipped her head enquiringly to one side. ‘I can read you like a book, Hill. What’s up?’
Hillie met her friend’s steady, demanding gaze and knew she had to give an answer. ‘Oh, sometimes I just wish,’ she began hesitantly, ‘that we could get away from all this, you and me. You know Price’s factory at Bromborough? Opposite side of the Mersey from Liverpool?’
‘Yeah? Well, I mean, I’ve never been there as you know, but I’ve heard talk of it. They built it ’cos everything from West Africa comes in there, including all the palm oil for the candles?’ Gert looked puzzled for a moment, and then her eyes stretched wide as realisation dawned. ‘You doesn’t think with all this electric thing and the new power station they’re building just over there’ – nodding her head towards the massive construction site at the far side of the park – ‘that Price’s will have to close York Road down, do you? And that some of us might have to go up to Bromborough? Or else lose our jobs?’
Hillie shrugged her eyebrows. ‘The thought had crossed my mind. But it mightn’t be a bad thing if I was offered a job there and my dad wasn’t. When they built the factory at Bromborough, they built a whole new village for the workers as well. It might’ve been back in Victorian days, but it was so good that Levers copied it for their Port Sunlight.’
‘And then Cadbury’s built Bourneville for their workers along the same lines, didn’t they?’
‘That’s right. Well, I’ve often thought, wouldn’t it be great if you and me could move up there, and live in one of those little houses together? But I know you wouldn’t want to leave your family.’
‘No, sorry, kid, I wouldn’t.’ Gert lowered her eyes. ‘And you wouldn’t really want to leave yours either, would you? I mean, it’d mean you could be free of your dad, but you wouldn’t want to leave your mum at his mercy, would you? Or the little ones?’
‘No. Not really. Silly of me.’ But Hillie shook her head in desperation. ‘Oh, Gert, sometimes I feel I’m being pulled apart, and I don’t know which way to turn.’
She was almost drowning in Gert’s sympathetic green eyes, and didn’t see the figure approaching them until she felt a shadow blocking out the sunlight. She looked up at a black silhouette outlined against the brilliant sky, but she recognised who it was at once.
‘Sorry to interrupt, ladies,’ a familiar voice said.
Hillie squinted grudgingly up at Jimmy Baxter. ‘What you doing here?’
‘Same as you, I imagine,’ Jimmy shrugged. ‘Enjoying me day off. Only in my case, it’s not been a whole day. I do a Sunday lunchtime shift at a pub. The Falcon. Down St John’s Hill. Know it?’
Hillie had never seen the inside of a public house, not even the Duke of Cambridge on the corner of their street. But she knew where Jimmy meant. ‘Well, yes, I do. Of course,’ she answered warily.
She watched as Jimmy linked his thumbs under the braces just visible beneath his open jacket, and ran them up and down, leaning back with his thin chest puffed up as he surveyed the scattered crowds in the park. ‘Lovely day, ain’t it? And all the better for meeting you two beautiful ladies. And who are these little cherubs?’ he asked, jabbing his head at the two toddlers dozing on the grass beside them.
Amazingly, Jimmy seemed genuinely interested, and anyway, Hillie could think of no reason to lie to him. ‘This one’s my youngest sister, Frances.’
‘Pretty little kid. How many of you are there, then?’
‘Six. I’m the eldest.’
‘And this one? Looks more like you, Gertrude, if I’m not mistaken.’
Gert blinked at him, almost ready to laugh. She was never called by her full name, and to hear it from the lips of this cocky devil seemed ludicrous. ‘She’s me sister, yeah. But not the youngest. She’s in the pram over there. With me mum. Why don’t you come over and meet her?’ she suggested, since Frances and Trudy had been disturbed by the intruder and were coming to. Meet her mum. Now that should send Jimmy Baxter packing!
To her amazement and annoyance, Jimmy declared that he would love to. He followed the girls – who exchanged horrified glances – over to where Eva had almost nodded off herself, and when they introduced him, he held out his hand politely.
‘Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Parker,’ he said in the most cultured tone he could muster.
‘Likewise, I’m sure, young man.’ Eva straightened her curlers. Mmm. Nice-looking enough. Not as handsome as her Kit, but more than passable. And seemingly quite charming. Might her Gertie be interested?
‘So you not out with Doris today?’ Gert asked pointedly, knowing full well that Jimmy had dumped Doris Sedgeworth and catching the expression on her mother’s face.
Jimmy’s frown was only fleeting. ‘Oh, we’re not walking out anymore,’ he announced quite openly. ‘She wasn’t mature enough for us.’
‘Hello, who’ve we got here, then?’
Hillie noticed that, curiously, Jimmy seemed to jump as he swivelled round to face Kit as he came up behind them with the rest of the tribe. Jimmy’s expression tightened, his eyes travelling over Kit’s railway uniform. His shirt was open at the neck, though, and he was bare-headed, having left both his tie and cap at his parents’ house in readiness for work afterwards. Jimmy’s face seemed to relax, then, and he held out his hand once again.
‘Jimmy Baxter,’ he introduced himself. ‘I work at Price’s with Hilda and Gertrude. And you are?’
‘Kit Parker. Gert’s elder brother. And this lot are divided between us,’ Kit explained, waving his hand at the flock behind him, his own siblings decidedly grubby while the other Hardwick children had done their best to keep clean.
Jimmy’s face spread into a grin. ‘You all look hot and bothered. Would you all like an ice cream?’
‘Yeah!’ a general cheer replied.
‘No,’ Hillie said sharply. ‘You’ve already had one, and if you have another one, you’ll be sick and Dad’ll be cross. Now, you lot, thank Mr Baxter for his offer. It was really kind of you, Jimmy.’
‘Not at all. Another time, perhaps.’ Jimmy tugged his forelock as the line of urchins mumbled their thanks, shooting grudging pouts at Hillie. But it was soon forgotten when Jake found a large stone to kick along the path and the others tried to turn it into another game of football. ‘See you at work tomorrow, then, girls. Goodbye, Mrs Parker. Nice to have met you.’
Jimmy sauntered off, whistling, hands thrust deep in pockets. Kit met his sister’s gaze and they both shrugged. Jimmy Baxter meant nothing much to either of them.
As they eventually set off home, it was Hillie who noticed the
smart trio entering the park through Sun Gate as their happy, scruffy band was about to leave through it. The middle-aged man cut a fine figure in a well-cut, lightweight suit. Below a beige homburg hat, however, his sour face was adorned with a handlebar moustache whose twizzled ends curved menacingly across his cheeks. On his arm strutted a plump, similarly aged woman, impeccably dressed in the latest fashion, nose in the air as if the summer scent from all the flowers was coming from a rubbish tip. They were as familiar to those who were walking towards them as the backs of their own hands. As was the pretty young woman who was walking beside her parents, equally as well dressed but with her face glowing and alert as she took in the displays of flowers and shrubs around her. It was the Braithwaite family who lived in one of the grander houses on the opposite side of the street. As soon as she recognised the straggling band coming towards her, the daughter, Jessica, hurried forward to greet the two girls.
‘Hello, Hillie, Gert!’ she grinned. ‘Fancy meeting you here!’ she joked.
‘Hello, Jessica! Good to see you,’ Hillie beamed back. And as Jessica’s parents caught up, she said politely, ‘Hello, Mr and Mrs Braithwaite. Beautiful afternoon, isn’t it?’
Jessica Braithwaite’s lovely face had exploded in a friendly smile, but before she had a chance to say anything else, her father grasped her with his free hand and directed her straight past.
‘You know I don’t like you speaking to that riff-raff,’ he barked. ‘Bad enough that we live on the same street.’
‘Come along, Jessica, your father’s right,’ the girl’s mother sneered, looking disdainfully down her nose.
Hillie stopped dead, slack-jawed, turning her head to watch the Braithwaites continuing along the path. Jessica was being almost dragged away, but kept glancing back over her shoulder with both apology and regret written across her face.
‘Stuck-up cow, that Hester Braithwaite,’ Eva muttered under her breath. ‘And he’s just as bad. I’d like to see him—’
But Hillie didn’t hear what Eva wanted to see. Probably something she didn’t care to hear anyway. Her attention was diverted by Kit’s hurrying back and planting himself in the Braithwaites’ path.
‘I would suggest you take that back, Mr Braithwaite, sir,’ Hillie heard Kit’s clear, steady voice. ‘My family might not have had the benefit of your supposedly superior upbringing, but they’re just as good people as you, and I’d thank you to remember it.’
Hillie could only see the back of Mr Braithwaite’s head but she could imagine the sneer on his face as she heard him scoff, ‘And who do you think you are, you jumped-up scum? Remind me what you do for a living? Oh, yes, you just work on the railway, don’t you?’
Hillie saw Kit’s features harden and he drew himself up to his full height, which she was grimly gratified to note exceeded Mr Braithwaite’s by an inch or so. ‘We’ll see, Mr Braithwaite. We’ll see what the future holds. In the meantime, my family might be poor, but at least they’re happy. Whereas you’d better watch out you don’t drown in your own misery.’
Kit gave a sharp bow of his head and then hurried to catch up with the others. Hillie could feel her stomach churning as she glanced at Kit’s set face. Behind him, she saw the Braithwaite family pause, and then move on as if nothing had happened. Jessica, though, glanced back again, and for a brief instant, her gaze met with Hillie’s, something desperate and pleading in her eyes.
‘That told him, son.’ Eva bobbed her head up and down in proud approval. ‘He’s only a shopkeeper himself. I reckon you got the best of him then. And if he doesn’t like our street, he can blooming well move away. It’s the girl I feel sorry for, poor kid.’
Yes, Hillie thought as they came to the main road and she gathered up her sisters to shepherd them across the traffic. Charles Braithwaite, she knew, was actually the manager of an entire floor at the prestigious Arding and Hobbs department store near the main entrance to Clapham Junction Station. But he was just as strict and heartless towards his daughter as Harold Hardwick was towards Hillie. As the troop reached the far side of the busy junction, it struck her that she and Jessica Braithwaite were two of a kind. The difference was that Hillie doubted Jessica stood up to her father in the same way she did to hers. And her heart plummeted as her thoughts returned to what her mother would’ve had to endure while she was enjoying a pleasant afternoon in the park.
Chapter Four
It had been by pure chance that Jimmy Baxter had come across Hillie and Gert and their families in the park, but Jimmy couldn’t help believing that fate had played a hand. Just when he’d been wondering how on earth he could make another approach to Hillie, the opportunity had presented itself quite out of the blue. The chance meeting had given him confidence and set hope flickering inside him once more.
Hillie in a pretty summer dress – short sleeves revealing her slender, graceful arms, and her crown of tawny silvery curls rioting about her shoulders – had been a vision that had truly made him gasp. He’d always thought she’d be beautiful out of her working overalls, and he was right. But she always struck him as intelligent, too. Far too bright to be packing candles all day. Jimmy prided himself on having a quick brain, too. You had to be sharp to do his job, delivering all over the factory. So they should be well-matched. If only he could get her to see beyond his reputation.
And he needed to act quickly. He didn’t know Gert had an older brother, and a handsome devil he was, too. And presumably he wasn’t blind, either! Surely Kit Parker couldn’t help but have eyes for Hillie? And he’d given Jimmy a fright when he’d first seen him. That uniform – well, thank goodness it was only to do with the railway!
Jimmy’s mind had been whirling as he sauntered away. Hillie was… he couldn’t quite describe what. All he knew was that he’d never felt like this about anyone before, and he’d never experienced such rumblings of jealousy, either. He hadn’t really been aware of where he was going. Just regretting that he was putting more and more space between them when what he really wanted was to run back and take her in his arms.
And then the idea had come to him in a flash. He could use the opportunity to find out where she lived, if nothing else. He continued walking in the same direction, making for the trees on the far side of the open grass area. But when he reached them, he looped back beneath the cover of the avenue. He was just in time to see Hillie and the others making for Sun Gate, and Jimmy followed. There was some sort of altercation with a toffee-nosed-looking older couple and a girl Jimmy guessed must be their daughter. Now she looked a bit of all right as well, but way out of his league! He then continued to shadow Hillie across the junction and down Cambridge Road where he’d had to be careful not to be seen. On the far side of Battersea Bridge Road, the group of adults and children turned into Banbury Street. And Jimmy gasped as he spied them all splitting up and disappearing into two different houses.
Ooo. Jimmy drew the knowledge close to his breast. It wasn’t that he wanted to stalk Hillie, but it felt good to know where she lived, although quite what advantage it gave him, he wasn’t entirely sure. He went back to the room he rented in Candahar Road, with its gas ring and little gas fire in front of which he could toast a slice of bread stuck on the end of a fork if he had the patience. When he’d moved in many years ago now, he’d felt like a king. Suddenly though now, the damp patches on the ceiling, the paper hanging off the walls and peeling paint on the windows jumped out and took him by the throat. He’d have to do a lot better than this if Hillie was going to take him seriously. But first of all, he needed to work up to asking her out on a date – and think of how he could deal with that father of hers!
He went to bed, the cogs of his brain whirring as they never had before.
*
Jimmy woke to the pattering of rain on the window and the first thing that leapt into his head was a picture of Hillie walking along the road under an umbrella. The idea galled him, especially after the idyllic vision of her in the park the previous afternoon. If only he could stop her fro
m getting wet.
But he could, couldn’t he? He wasn’t that hard up. He’d got used to the squalid room, but the rent was cheap and his was by no means the worst paid job at the factory. With only himself to take care of – and with his weekly stint at the pub and the odd ‘extra’ that came his way – he had cash to spare. He even had a Post Office savings account!
He took extra care shaving that morning and brushed his hair to a smooth shine before he left. And he left early, because he wasn’t going directly to work, was he? He was planning a little detour, and he wanted to make sure he was in time.
He’d worked out where Hillie must come out onto Battersea Park Road, and he would – by chance, of course – appear on the street just at the same time, albeit a few turnings down and on the opposite side of the road. He’d pretend to have just seen her and cross the road to join her. She would doubtless be with Gert, but he’d have to put up with that. And there’d be safety in numbers, giving him more confidence.
When Hillie appeared, though, she was alone, and Jimmy’s heartbeat accelerated. He swallowed hard, taking a hold on himself, and turned the corner onto the opposite side of the road, praying it didn’t look too obvious.
‘Hillie!’ he called as he threaded his way through the traffic and went to meet her. He was thrilled to see that the surprise on her face when she caught sight of him displayed no displeasure as it might have done a few days previously. ‘What a change in the weather, eh?’
‘Yes,’ she answered, stepping along briskly but peering at him from under her umbrella. ‘You must live near.’
‘Yeah, I do. Candahar Road. Tell you what, I was going to catch the tram, it’s raining so hard. Look, there’s one coming,’ he announced as he glanced behind them to see a Number 31 trundling towards them on the opposite side of the road. ‘D’you want to join me? My treat instead of getting you an ice cream yesterday.’
Hillie flashed a glance at him, and then at the approaching tram. She’d have to make a snap decision. She couldn’t afford the fare and would have to let Jimmy pay anyway, and she didn’t particularly want to be in his debt. But the rain was coming down hard and it was pretty miserable. But most of all, she didn’t want the envelope hidden in the paper bag with her sandwiches to get wet. She’d slipped upstairs to fetch it just before she left, wishing she had an inside breast pocket in her coat like men did in their jackets. Sliding it between the greaseproof wrapping round her lunch and the brown paper bag was the best she could do. She had no excuse to take in a book today as it wasn’t Saturday and everyone knew she’d spend her lunchtime chatting with Gert rather than reading.