But who would protect Jinnie?
Weary of the terrible Miss Tadcaster’s iron rule and bullied by Quinn, she’d moved into the weaving shed where she would be in daily contact with the other women and therefore of more use to him. She was now being taught how to operate a loom. Weaving was a top job and at any other time in her life she would have been delighted, thrilled to be given the chance of a proper future. But there was a snag.
Becoming accepted by these women was not going to be easy. In their eyes she was the lowest of the low who was now aping her betters. They called her “a forward little madam”, “a jumped-up un” and more pungently, “common as muck.” Whatever differences Jinnie imagined might exist between the middle and working classes, she was aware of far more serious divisions within the lower class itself. And since she wasn’t considered fit to belong to any class at all, she had no illusions about the difficulties she faced.
At first the women refused to show her how to kiss the shuttle and she’d struggle to thread it any way but the right one; or how to scutch the cotton fibres from the loom without breathing all the dust into her lungs. They left her loom perilously idle whenever a thread broke, and nobody “spoke” to her because they said she didn’t know how to mee-maw, that is mouth the words silently.
But Jinnie didn’t give up. If she didn’t know, she would ask and find the answer somehow. She was desperate to learn and finally the other women recognised this desire and began to respect her for it. They were also longing to have a bet.
Jinnie’s task was to collect the stake money from her clients, handing out betting slips when the foreman or tackler wasn’t looking, then to deliver the bets to Len Jackson or Harold Cunliffe during her dinner break. They in turn put the bets in what was called the ‘clock bag’ which had a timer on it that snapped shut at the start of the race to prevent fraud. Len, or Harold, would then take the bag to Billy Quinn, and he would not be pleased if she didn’t have plenty of bets in it for him.
‘Nay, I can’t afford a flutter today, lass,’ a woman might protest, in which event Jinnie was instructed to offer Quinn’s tip of the day, maybe on a horse running at Hurst Park or a greyhound expected to do well at the Salford Albion. Hopefully the woman would be sorely tempted by the prospect of a sure fire winner and take the risk, even if it put her in hock with the money lender or pawnbroker. Much as common sense might dictate otherwise, the lure of a substantial win could ease the grind of making ends meet for weeks to come. Besides, the odd bet here and there added a spice of interest and hope to an otherwise miserable existence. On race days there would be a feeling of buoyancy in the air, as if it were a holiday, and housewives could be found standing on their doorsteps pouring over the racing papers, comparing the odds.
To Jinnie’s profound relief, most women never got involved to this extent. Many enjoyed a bit of a flutter, often as little as a penny, at most threepence on an each way bet. They were never as extravagant as their husbands who might place as much as a shilling, but there was the odd one who got in over their heads and, though Billy Quinn welcomed commitment, he didn’t allow debts. All transactions were strictly cash.
‘You help me to get rich, Jinnie girl, and I’ll not stand in yer way with this whey-faced fella of yours. Ye’d do that fer me, would ye not? Fer old times sake. Then I’ll buy meself a fine house on the Polygon and become a benefactor of the community, like Tommy Lill, always ready to give a handout for those in need. Wouldn’t that be grand?’
The prospect of Billy Quinn turning into the kind of bookmaker who was willing to help out his customers if they were in need of a loan to pay for a doctor or a burial perhaps, or had lost their job and fallen on hard times, was beyond even Jinnie’s imaginings.
‘Whatever you say, Quinn.’
‘Course, if’n ye decided to come home where ye belong, I’d mebbe be willing to take ye back.’
‘I’d rather die than share your bed ever again.’ For a moment she thought she’d gone too far but then he put back his head and roared with laughter. She could see the hairs in his nostrils and for once, his handsome image deserted him, leaving only a cruel parody of good looks.
‘Ye’d rather die would ye? Well, that can be arranged.’ He grasped hold of her chin, pinching it tightly between finger and thumb. Jinnie could feel the coarseness of his skin, taste the foulness of his breath as his face moved closer to hers. ‘Ye’d not want your fella learning the truth about yer past, now would ye, me lovely?’ And releasing her, he strolled away, laughing.
Jinnie felt as if she were walking a tight rope. If she obeyed Quinn to the letter, as she must if she wasn’t to end up as a bag of broken bones like poor Sadie, she’d be betraying her new friends. On the other hand, if she didn’t drum up enough business to please him, she could lose everything that she’d gained, including Edward.
And Edward had become of paramount importance to her.
Sundays was now their only day together. The day always began with chapel in the morning. They always sat in the family pew with Emily carrying her own hymn and prayer books and wearing her best hat, following some slight altercation to persuade Bella to wear hers. After chapel there’d be Mrs Dyson’s roast beef and Yorkshire. Emily would be spoon-fed later in her room by Bella or Tilly, after which Simeon would snore in his chair for half an hour or so before setting out again for the chapel to act as Superintendent at the Sunday school.
It was at this time that Jinnie and Edward would take the opportunity to sneak away and enjoy a walk along the canal bank or a tram ride into the city centre and walk along Deansgate or King’s Street, doing a bit of window gazing and dreaming of their future together as lovers do.
Today, Jinnie had made up her mind to tell Edward everything. It was the only way to get Billy Quinn off her back once and for all.
It was hot and sunny, being late June, and they meant to enjoy a picnic in Seedley Park. On her arm she carried a basket, filled with more good food for one single meal than she used to see in a fortnight. Later they’d sit down to supper at a table groaning with food, as they did every evening. Edward’s family would eat it without even noticing, all the while talking about politics, the state of world trade, who was to marry whom and other doings of their friends and neighbours. Jinnie felt as if one minute she was living a dream, the next a nightmare, though which one might turn into reality she couldn’t be sure. It all depended upon how Edward reacted to what she had to say today. The thought took some of the edge off her happiness but it couldn’t destroy it entirely, because she loved him so much.
Surely he could forgive her anything, since he was clearly mad about her. The way he held her arm so firmly in his and gazed so lovingly into her eyes whenever they walked out together made Jinnie feel sure the curtains would be twitching all along the street. Even here in the west of Salford they weren’t above a bit of gossip and she was living in his house, after all.
‘We should be more discreet,’ she whispered, seeing at least one movement in a window opposite.
‘Fiddlesticks. Let the world know that I love you. Shall I shout it to the heavens?’
Horrified, in case he did exactly as he threatened, Jinnie hurried him up the long street, desperate to reach the park before he embarrassed them both. In a strange way, Edward was far more unpredictable than Billy Quinn. Not that she intended even to think of him today, not on her day off. Being a Sunday there was no racing, no bets to be placed, not for her anyway as the mill was closed until Monday. For once she was entirely free.
They were minutes from home, yet it felt as if they were in another world. The Park was a pleasant oasis of green in the heart of the city. There was a fountain, a duck pond and a walk known as the Flower Path, and if the weather turned inclement, they could go inside the Buile Hill Museum to see the stuffed animals and birds in their cases.
They scampered like giggling children over the manicured lawns and found a private corner behind some neatly clipped laurel bushes where Jinnie spread the cloth
and set out the sandwiches. Edward grabbed her from behind, holding her tight in his arms and making her squeal in surprise before whirling her about and kissing her with a thoroughness that left her breathless. Sometimes she felt on fire whenever he touched her, at other times like now, she felt close to panic, almost as if eyes were watching them from behind every tree.
‘Give over, you wicked man. You’ll have me over in a minute if you don’t behave,’ but she wasn’t really angry. She never could remain cross with Edward for more than a minute and when he started kissing her again, Jinnie made no protest at all. Long before this second kiss was over they’d both fallen to the sweet smelling grass and rolled down the hill to lie in a tumbled, giggling heap at the bottom. Jinnie, for one, could have stayed there for ever.
Eventually he did release her and she stood up and made him dust all the grass seeds from her neck, scolding him gently about green stains on her new Sunday frock. It was a pretty pink print with a velvet collar, the nicest frock she’d ever owned in all her life. In fact, the only new frock she’d ever possessed. Jinnie was thrilled to bits with it.
Edward went to buy a jug of hot tea for twopence from the tea rooms just by the Museum, then they sat and munched on their lettuce and potted beef sandwiches while Jinnie tried to think of a way to bring up the subject of the “accident”, without appearing too obvious. It wasn’t easy, and she was unused to diplomacy. She’d asked him once if he’d mind her calling him Eddie, as Edward seemed such a formal, grand sort of name. He’d looked surprised, as if the idea had never entered his head.
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘Of course I do. It’s a smart, proper sort of name.’
‘Well why change it then? Don’t you like me being smart and proper? Do you want me to change too? ‘
‘I didn’t say that. I just thought happen a shorter name would be - oh, I don’t know - easier to say. More comfortable like. It were a daft idea. Forget it.’ She’d never made such a suggestion again, careful to remember how new was their relationship, and what a wide gap lay between them that must somehow be bridged. ‘Are you glad I come to live with you?’ she asked. ‘I mean, came to live with your family.’
‘Of course I’m glad. What a question. You’ve changed my life, Jinnie.’ He rolled over on to his stomach so he could gaze up at her adoringly. ‘When d’you think you’ll be ready to say yes? You know it’s what I want most in all the world, for us to be wed.’
He asked her the same question every time they went out together. Jinnie smiled and tickled his nose with a feathered grass stem. ‘When I’m eighteen. Wasn’t that the agreement?’
Edward groaned. ‘Oh Jinnie, don’t be so cruel. I can’t possibly wait that long.’ Then he was pulling her down beside him and kissing her again, with more fervour this time and oh, how could she stop him when his lips were so warm and demanding?
She wanted him so much that she could make no protest at all, not even if Billy Quinn himself were standing right behind them, taking it all in. Jinnie pressed her body close against his, pushing her fingers through Edward’s softly curling hair and forgot all about Quinn as his hand crept ever nearer to her breast and Jinnie strained towards him so that he couldn’t help but cup it entirely. She heard him groan, deep in his throat. Was she being a tease? she wondered. But Jinnie couldn’t help herself if she was. She wanted Edward so much that it hurt. By the time they broke free they were both breathless, pink cheeked and Jinnie’s mouth all bruised and swollen from his kisses.
‘Oh God, just to look at you like that with your eyes all big and trusting, makes me go weak-kneed. You look like we’ve been to bed already, my love, instead of needing desperately to do so. How will I bear to wait for two whole years?’
Jinnie sat up quickly and primly tugged her dress down over her knees, since it had slid right up to her pale thighs. ‘Would you like an apple?’
Edward gave another groan, accompanied by a throaty chuckle this time. ‘Now you sound like Eve. Will I be damned, like Adam, if I accept it?’ Jinnie giggled, not fully understanding what he was saying, nor expecting to, since he was so much cleverer than she.
After tea they strolled, to all outward appearances entirely prim and proper, through the sunken rose gardens, past the tennis courts and bowling green. Yet fingers kept clasping, thigh brushed against thigh, his arm even strayed about her waist once or twice and Jinnie had to gently hiss for him to remove it. It wouldn’t be right to kiss and canoodle in public. You never knew who might be watching. Eventually, the afternoon grew late and they set off to walk the short distance home, anxious not to miss evening chapel or Simeon would never forgive them.
Jinnie had that sensation of panic again, like butterflies beating in her stomach; their magical time alone together nearly over and she still hadn’t found a way to tell him.
It was as they turned the corner to walk the last few yards home, that they were joined by Bella. Her voice hailed them from behind and they both paused to wait for her to run and join them.
‘Where have you two dear people been?’ she asked, linking her arms with theirs, her eyes on Jinnie’s flushed face. ‘Or is that a secret?’
‘Not at all. We’ve enjoyed a delicious picnic in the park.’ Edward and Jinnie exchanged smiles as if indeed sharing a secret but for once Bella didn’t notice as she was too busy relating her own happy day, filled not with good works for once, but a fishing expedition.
‘I caught two fish would you believe? But they were small, so Dan made me throw them back.’
‘Sounds a sensible chap. I bet he helped you to catch them in the first place.’
‘Of course he did. Said I couldn’t catch a cold on a wet Monday,’ and they all went into the house laughing, wondering what delights Mrs Dyson would have made them for supper. As the door banged shut and the sound of their happy voices faded, a man less than fifty yards behind them, turned up his coat collar, lit another cigarette and, turning on his heel, strolled away. Not only did he now know where Jinnie lived now, but who she lived with. Most interesting.
Simeon was waiting for Bella and, for once, was not his usual benevolent self. He was striding back and forth in the green-shaded parlour, cigar in hand and a glowering rage on his face. ‘In here this minute, Isabella, I wish to speak with you,’ he announced, the moment she set foot in the hall.
Edward cast her a surprised but sympathetic glance as he and Jinnie hurried upstairs to wash their hands before supper. Bella went into the parlour and quietly closed the doors.
‘Good evening Pa, and how are you on this lovely June evening? I’m sorry I missed chapel this afternoon but it was far too nice to ...’
Simeon interrupted her. ‘Much as it pains me to bring the subject up, I’ve been speaking with Dr Lisle. As sidesman of a neighbouring chapel, he came to a meeting we were holding after the afternoon service to discuss this Mothers’ Clinic of yours. He had much to say on the matter, not least your involvement with it; the full details of which would have been better coming from you direct.’
Bella showed her surprise. ‘But you were well aware that I’d opened a clinic. I informed you in advance of my intention to do so. I also told you about the public meeting. Besides, you must have seen reports in the press.’
‘Happen I was too taken up with the health of your dear mother but the full significance of what you were about had not properly registered.’
‘Or perhaps, since it was women’s business, you didn’t properly listen?’
Simeon jabbed the air with his cigar. ‘The whole meeting was of the opinion that any woman will be brought safely through childbirth if she and her husband continue to live in faith and love and growing holiness, and with a little more natural self-restraint the numbers of children could easily be reduced.’
‘That seems to me to be a rather optimistic and decidedly unrealistic viewpoint.’
‘Are you saying that you don’t trust in the Lord?’
Bella closed her eyes for a brief second, to g
ive herself time to gather breath and patience. ‘No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m merely pointing out that if two people love each other enough to marry, it is surely unrealistic to expect them not to engage in love making. Abstention could damage a marriage, could it not?’
‘And what would you know about the matter, miss?’ Simeon sharply responded, his neck flushed with anger, as if she’d touched a nerve.
Bella did not blush. She met the fury of her parent’s gaze with equanimity. ‘I hope that I understand something of life, Father, else how do I come to be here?’
Shocked by her response and momentarily lost for words, Simeon puffed out his reddening cheeks, then clenched his teeth furiously on his cigar and strode to the window in an attempt to disguise his embarrassment. He decided on a different tack. ‘Dr Lisle suggests that you deliberately attempted to keep the true import of your work from me. What you are doing is peddling pornography. You are actively promoting a sin against morality and, even worse, against the Will of God. Now that I understand fully what it is you are up to, I demand that you stop. At once.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Bella felt herself grow quite still. She couldn’t believe that her ever tolerant, mild mannered father had turned into this narrow minded bigot.
‘I will not have my own daughter involved with encouraging licentious behaviour. You must cease your impertinent preaching of sexual impropriety to the masses.’
‘Impertinent... Utter tosh! I teach nothing of the sort.’
Simeon now appeared to be turning purple before her very eyes. ‘You deny that instructing the young that unchastity can be safe, is not a sin? How dare you? I never thought to hear a daughter of mine attempt to thwart the law of propriety in such a manner. You are taking advantage of your mother’s ill health to run wild and I will not have it.’
The Favourite Child Page 11