Paradise Court (10 page)

Mary sighed after his retreating footsteps. ‘Go ditch them on some other poor fool, you mean.'

Arthur Ogden saw Joe enter the bar. He was at a terrible loose end himself, having read through the
Daily Express
headlines. His glass was empty, as was his pocket, so he hailed the newcomer with a faint hope of some improvement there. ‘Hello, Joe. Some bleeding bertie's got himself shot, it says here,' he said as he thrust the newspaper under the illiterate newcomer's nose. ‘And it says the whole of Europe's turned upside down over it.'

‘That beats me,' Joe said in his nasal drawl. He ordered two pints of half and half; one for Arthur. ‘All I know for sure with this shambles you call a government is that they can't even sort out the mess in their own backyard.' He sat by Arthur to make up a gloomy pair. The cellarman Joxer was there to serve them their drinks, and he scowled from under dark brows. Joxer had nothing particular against them. He never smiled and he never spoke to the customers at the bar, preferring a shadowy existence in the cellar. No one knew where he slept or how he lived. He was a drifter who'd found an unexpected soft spot in Duke's heart, and was accepted as such.

‘By “backyard” I take it you mean Dublin?' Arthur took up the conversation with a self-important air. ‘You mean your home turf?'

‘Certainly I do. It's in a state of chaos, I'm telling you here and now. And we've no need of any Kaiser to go complicating things.' Joe spoke bitterly and brought the short conversation to an abrupt end.

‘Drink up,' Robert encouraged. ‘And cheer up, for gawd's sake.' He was taking over from Joxer and found himself rattled by the dreary talk. An army career didn't appeal, not when there was a good chance of being shot at into the bargain. He'd disagreed with
Duke about it recently, resenting his father's patriotic talk. He certainly wasn't as keen as his father's generation had been to fight for king and country. ‘It's the twentieth century, Pa. We do things in a different way now,' he insisted.

‘Tell me that when the fighting starts,' Duke replied. ‘And if you do I'll say you're no son of mine!'

‘Anyone'd think you'd just got your call-up papers,' Robert told Arthur and Joe. ‘You two are out of it whatever happens, ain't you? So bleeding well cheer up!'

Joxer's mouth bent in a sarcastic grin as he passed by. His night's work done, he was drifting off to wherever he spent his lonely nights. But instead of heading off down Duke Street, he turned and swung open the door again. Trouble!' he announced. ‘Up the street!'

As word went round, people crowded out of the pubs and houses into the street. It was a clear June night when curiosity could be satisfied without the dampening effect of cold, wind or rain. ‘What's happening?' Annie asked, darting quick as a flash up the court to the pub corner. ‘What's all that bleeding noise?'

Dolly and Amy Ogden rushed up the street after her. Whatever it was, it came from up near Coopers'. They could hear shouts organized into a kind of high chant, then the crash of splintering glass. Amy broke into a run; more than her mother could manage. Ahead of her she saw Robert Parsons with Frances at his side. Even Duke had come downstairs and strode along, leaving Jess and Sadie with Ernie to look down from the window. He strode along, right up the middle of the street past a stationary hansom, the horses champing at the bit.

‘Window-smashers!' someone gasped. ‘It's them suffragettes!' A mob had gathered on the corner of Duke Street and Meredith Close. Now everyone converged on that focal point-Frances heard the word spread like wildfire.

Frances heard the word spread like wildfire. ‘Window-smashers!' The sound of splintering glass grew louder. Soon it was plain that the mob was made up entirely of women. Some of the men in the
crowd of onlookers pushed their hats to the back of their heads and whistled in amazement at the sight.

Terrified by the violence, but thrilled by their daring, Frances drew level with Coopers' shop front. She held her breath. She'd never seen a sight like this in all her life. Twenty or thirty women pelted stones and rained hammer blows against the plate glass. They'd broken through in several places, so the windows were crazed in giant spider's web patterns all along the length of the department store, which was twenty yards or so fronting on to Duke Street. Now they'd run down the side into Meredith Close. As one woman succeeded with her hammer blow, another would dart forward and add her own force. Glass caved in on the expensive goods on display, glinting like dangerous jewels under the street-lights. The women cheered, their faces savage with delight as they surged down the close together. Then the police arrived, whistles blowing, truncheons at the ready.

‘Police!' women's voices cried, sharp and hysterical.

The onlookers stood back to let the men in uniform through. ‘You need bleeding strait-jackets, not truncheons,' Arthur Ogden warned. Amy and Dolly stood speechless at his side, joining in the crowd's lust for action. It looked like none of the women would go quietly. Trapped down the close, they fought tooth and nail.

Then there was a hush in the crowd as Jack Cooper and his son rolled up in their big black motor car. They both jumped out and pushed roughly through. Faced with a devastated shop front, the older man stopped dead in his tracks as if the life-blood had suddenly drained from him. He stared in disbelief at the expanses of shattered glass. But Teddy strode angrily over the shards and turned the corner into the close.

The women outnumbered policemen by about three to one, and although one or two had been manhandled off up the street into waiting vans, the gathered crowd hadn't lifted a finger to help. They stood passively, waiting to see the police get the better of the law-breakers, but by no means determined to see it over quickly. So the women were able to fight back by kicking and scratching, shouting all the while at the tops of their enraged voices.

Frances found herself at first roused and then moved to tears. She stood back from the main crowd, watching the struggles of the ones who were roughly taken off to prison.

But Teddy Cooper, beside himself, began lashing out at the women still at large. He lunged at one whose face was already bleeding from frying glass and caught her off balance. Down she went on to the pavement amongst the scuffling, stamping feet. Frances heard her scream. She saw Teddy Cooper poised to smash his boot down on her. Two policemen turned and moved to restrain him. Then Amy Ogden rushed forward.

The woman screamed again. For Amy, the sound brought back a terrible memory. She flung herself at Teddy, yelling his name and sobbing at him to stop. He had time to wrench himself free, there was time to recognize dawning contempt on his face as he made out his assailant, before the policemen took hold of him and dragged him dear of the two women; one knocked full length on the pavement, one desperately calling his name.

It was only a matter of time now before reinforcements arrived and the mob of women was subdued. More uniforms swept up Duke Street and into the close. The crowd saw it was all over and broke up. The last women were carried off. Still Jack Cooper stood there staring at the ruins of his shop, while the police took details from Teddy. Amy was led quietly away by a puzzled Dolly.

Duke and Robert stood their ground as the crowd melted. Regardless of his like or dislike of the local employers, Duke's sense of fair play was upset. He was against the mayhem caused by these women and had to feel sorry for a man whose livelihood stood in ruins before his eyes. So he went up to Cooper. ‘You'll need a hand to dear this lot up,' he said Robert was sent to round up a few fit and sober helpers, along with brooms to sweep up the mess.

Cooper nodded slowly, emerging from his daze. Teddy had gone inside to assess the damage. Unnoticed, Frances stood and watched as the men set to. She felt nothing now after the shock of events; just a coldness round her heart towards these men.

There was a story her mother told her when she was very young about a girl whose heart was pierced by a fragment of glass, and
the glass froze her heart so she could no longer love and no longer cry. She became the Ice Queen's child.

The story settled in Frances's mind again now. Robert and her father had no right to help Frank Cooper. She saw it dearly as she turned and walked home. It was the women, driven to desperate action, who needed help. Who cared about the state of a few broken windows when women had to fight these mighty injustices? Frances's rebellious thoughts took shape from this one violent episode. She went slowly back to the Duke, but she felt the ties with her home, her family, her whole history break with each step she took.

‘Them women need a good hiding,' Duke grumbled when he got back from sweeping up the glass. ‘That's what they need.'

Frances couldn't bear to hear him lay down the law. Her hair came loose as she swung round to confront him. ‘How can you say that? Do you know what they do when they get them to Holloway? They sack a tube down their throats to feed them! Think of that. It's downright disgusting!'

But his own code was violated. ‘Women who go about smashing windows need the feel of the birch on their backs!' he shouted. Teach ‘em their proper place.' Duke roused was a terrifying spectacle.

Frances sobbed ‘It ain't right. They're sticking up for all us women, not just themselves. And look what happens.'

‘You ain't telling me that what they did was sticking up for other women?' He stared at her in disbelief.

‘I am! That's just it, Pa. We need to be treated equal; that's what all this is about!'

A look of scorn slowly crept on to his face. He refused to follow her wild reasoning. ‘It ain't no wonder you're on the shelf, girl,' he said quietly.

‘What!' she screeched in disbelief. She was the one out of control now.

‘You heard. I said it ain't no wonder you can't find yourself a decent man like all the other girls.'

He regretted the words even as he spoke them. Frances looked as if she'd been stabbed in the chest. Jess ran in from the bedroom to stop her from Ming in a dead feint. He could hear Sadie sobbing. But a stubborn voice reminded him that women would always try
to gain the upper hand, either by worming their way in or by outright defiance. You had to fight it for all you were worth. ‘I'm off downstairs to finish up,' he told Jess gruffly. ‘You sort her out and get her off to bed. She'll come to her senses tomorrow.'

Jess took Frances's full weight as she half fell against her. She called out for Sadie to stop crying. ‘Lend a hand. Help me get her to our room.' She struggled, but Frances pushed her off.

‘You heard him!' she gasped. ‘How can I stay here now? You heard what he said about me!'

‘He don't mean it, Frances. Just give him a chance to calm down. Everything will look different tomorrow.' Jess put one hand to her belly as she felt the baby twist and lack. There was a sharp stab of pain low in her abdomen. She sat down and gripped the edge of the table.

‘Frances, it's Jess!' Sadie rushed forward to drag her oldest sister away from the dark window. ‘She's gone white as a sheet, look!'

Frances was still gripped by a blind determination to cut loose, to live her own life and begin to fight for the cause she believed in. Her lips were set in a straight line as she stared at her own reflection.

‘Frances!' Sadie let out another terrified cry. Jess had used both hands to push herself upright. She began to stumble towards the bedroom door.

‘Get help,' she gasped. ‘It's the baby. Go on, fetch someone, quick!'

Frances spun round and ran towards her. ‘Oh, Jess, no! Not yet! For God's sake, Sadie, do as she says! No, help me get her into bed!' The sight of Jess doubled up in pain pierced her heart. Selfish, selfish! she told herself. My fault, my fault! ‘Oh God, no, Jess. Just hang on. Sadie, run for Dr Fry. Knock until you get an answer. Tell him what's happened.'

Sadie ran wild-eyed down the stairs, out into the street, while Frances used all her strength to lift the fainting Jess safely on to her own bed. She loosened her clothes, then ran to the airing-cupboard for rowels. ‘It's all right, Jess. Everything's fine.
Sadie's gone to fetch Dr Fry.' She stroked her sister's forehead, cold and wet with sweat. ‘Is it bad? Is it, my dear?'

Jess turned her head. ‘Make this baby live, Frances. Make her live!'

‘Oh!' Frances moaned. She could hardly meet Jess's pleading gaze.

‘Not your fault,' Jess whispered. Then she turned to grip the bedstead as the spasm of pain came strong and sharp.

Frances felt another hammer blow to her heart. She called out for more help. Robert came running and was sent to boil up water in the kitchen. Duke came up in alarm. He rested a forearm against the door jamb, then retreated He'd seen it before; a woman struggling in childbirth, fear in the air, the doctor arriving brisk and businesslike because things were not as they should be. The closed door. The cries.

Long into the night Jess struggled Weakened by loss of blood, faint with pain, she gave birth to a daughter.

Dr Fry cut the cord Frances gave him a clean square of linen in which he wrapped the baby tight. ‘Here's your little girl, Jess,' he said as he handed her over. Frances wept She leaned over the bed.

Jess's hands shook. She saw the face of her daughter, her own child. She held her close. Dark eyes opened towards her. She looked up at Frances and smiled.

‘Now we've work to do,' Dr Fry said, his voice low and kind. ‘Let your sister take the child, Jess. She'll take good care.' He took the baby away from her.

Jess's world was empty. Her head swam with pain.

‘We have to stop the bleeding,' the doctor told Frances.

‘She will be all right, won't she?' Frances felt the light weight in her arms.

Dr Fry grunted. ‘Go through and show Duke his new granddaughter,' he advised. ‘I'll do what I can here.'

Duke sat with bowed head by the fire. Robert stood, elbow against the mantelpiece, keeping Ernie calm. Sadie hovered with Hettie by the kitchen door.

Frances stepped forward. ‘It's a girl,' she announced.

‘Thank God!' Hettie breathed She'd come in from work, full of news about the window-smashing, only to be greeted by this crisis. Jess's time wasn't up for another month, yet. But she found Sadie at the top of the stairs, her hands covering her ears.

Duke looked up.

‘A granddaughter for you, Pa.' She spoke softly, held out the child towards him; her own peace offering. The family would need her now, more than ever.

‘What about Jess?' Duke's face was drained, his voice cracked. ‘I've been praying for her, Frances. She's still with us, ain't she?'

‘She is, Pa, and she's putting up a fight'

‘Has she seen the child?'

‘She has.'

He nodded. ‘Then she'll live. She's got everything to live for now, ain't she?' He stood gazing down into the infant's sleeping lace. ‘My Pattie never saw Sadie when she was born. Never ever saw her lace.'

Sadie ran up and put both arms around him. Frances cried on Hettie's shoulder. Robert frowned to stop his own eyes from filling up. Ernie hung his head. They waited.

At three in the morning Dr Fry emerged from the bedroom. He rolled down his shirtsleeves. ‘Awake,' he reported. ‘And asking for her daughter.'

There was a cry of relief.

‘She's weak. There's a danger of infection. You must take good care.' The doctor's gaze took in each of them in turn. ‘I know she's in good hands,' he told Frances. ‘Your work at the chemists has taught you about hygiene during a recovery such as this?'

Frances nodded. Tears streamed down her face.

‘Good. In that case . . .' Dr Fry snapped his black learner bag shut and reached for his jacket, which Ernie handed to him. ‘Congratulations, Duke.' He came and shook him by the hand.

‘The child?' Duke wouldn't let go until he answered.

‘Small.'

‘Ailing?'

‘No. Only weak with the difficult birth. Well need to get her weight up.'

Duke considered. ‘Thank you, Doctor.'

‘Keep an eye on them both, and send for me again if you think I'm needed.' He buttoned up his jacket.

Hettie saw him out. Dawn streaked the sky above the grey roots as she watched the small, dark figure down the street. Upstairs, they moved quietly, careful of each other, fearful for Jess and her newborn baby.

At seven o'clock, Frances made breakfast. She was pale but calm. The others watched her for their lead. They sat down to an edgy affair of boiled bacon, hot tea, whispers and worried looks. Sadie had filled Hettie in on the row between Duke and Frances, and they all waited nervously for some solution to this problem. Frances had never in her life before lost control like that, and no one had shown Duke such open defiance.

But that had been before the emergency over Jess. Now Duke seemed determined to let the other matter drop. He listened quietly at the breakfast table as Rob discussed with Hettie the damage done to Coopers' windows in terms of cost and loss of trade. Rob didn't think any of the workers would be laid off; quite the opposite. It seemed to him they'd have to put in extra hours in the sweatshops to replace damaged stock. ‘Everything'll be back to normal in a couple of days,' he said.

Frances sat and listened without reacting. During a long, brilliant dawn, measured by silence, the baby's cries, and then the early noises of carts rattling down the cobbled street, she'd decided there was no point arguing further with Duke. She would stay on at home and try to live peacefully with him. Her loyalty was to Jess now.

Like all the other men round here, her tamer regarded the women's demonstration as a sideshow at the fair, performed by freaks of nature. But Frances knew different. She had the ability to think things through. There was justice in the women's cause; they should be treated equally in this day and age. She used logic to soothe
away the hurt Duke had inflicted; if she'd been a man of twenty-eight and still single, people would say she was a good catch, with her respectable job and good prospects. Just because she was a woman they said she was on the shelf. And old maids like her were regarded with mixed scorn and pity. When day broke Frances was ready to meet it, for Jess's sake. But things would never be quite the same in the family. They would have to get used to a new edge to her, even more remote and determined.

‘It's eating her up inside,' Annie Wiggin confided to Dolly Ogden. ‘She's turned into one of them man-haters, and it ain't doing her no good.'

The two women stood gossiping in the street outside Henshaw's on a sultry August day. Their subject was the Parsons family and Frances in particular. Her long-standing row with Duke was by now common knowledge. She went openly to the suffragists' meetings and wore their purple and green sash.

‘He don't like it,' Annie reported. She said ‘he' in an awed tone. Duke was looked up to by many of the older women and Dolly caught Annie's meaning right away. ‘He ain't got no time for it and ifs causing bad feeling in the house, believe me.'

‘D'you think it's brought on all this trouble young Jess had with that baby?' Dolly didn't really want Annie's opinion. With her expert knowledge of the complexities of childbirth, she'd already made up her mind. ‘I mean to say, the poor girl started that very night. She didn't have no chance to get away like she planned. Poor little blighter was born there and then, right above the pub. Sadie had to run for Dr Fry. Everyone down the court heard the rumpus.'

Annie nodded. ‘Weeks early. By all accounts, the poor little mite was no bigger than a wax doll. Jess was in a pretty bad way herself and all. It can't have been easy.'

Dolly seized the opportunity to confide the secrets of her own difficult labours. ‘Take Charlie. Arse about face he was. Dr Phillips has a feel and tells me he's lying the wrong way “hentirely”. That's what he says. It was two whole days before Charlie finally consents
to put in his appearance, all nine pounds eight ounces. He was just about the death of me, I can tell you!' The stout woman reminisced with pride. ‘He always was an awkward little bugger!'

Annie nodded her way through Dolly's fascinating account, but was anxious to steer things back on course. ‘They thought they was going to lose her,' she said.

‘Who, the baby?'

‘No, Jess. Everything went black for Duke. Course he was remembering his old lady and how he lost her over young Sadie. He heard the state Jess was in and everything went black all over again. He just put his head in his hands and sat there still as a statue, with the poor girl clinging to life by a thread in the very next room!'

Even Dolly was impressed. She stared at Annie. ‘How come you know all this?'

‘Hettie told me. She came down the stall the other day and we had a little chat. Poor old man, he was in a state for days till he knew Jess was on the mend. Just sat there without moving for days!'

‘He never! Who looked after things downstairs then?'

‘Robert, of course. He ran the whole place. I'm surprised your Arthur never told you that No one expected the old man to take it so bad.' Annie shook her head. The whole family was gutted, mind you.'

‘And what's she decided to call the baby, then?' Dolly needed to be on her way back to work. ‘Supposing the poor little bleeder decides to make it through to her christening.'

Annie had begun serving mother-of-pearl buttons to a woman from the pawn shop. She counted them on to her palm. ‘Seven, eight, nine. Grace. That's threepence to you, ta very much. Hettie says they're calling her Grace. And she's a pretty, dark-haired thing, but still sickly.' Annie pocketed the money and watched Dolly on her way.

Dolly too had much on her mind. The chat with Annie had cheered her up, as other people's troubles often did, but she had several of
her own, over and above the usual. For one thing, it was getting too much to put up with, these constant rows with Amy over something and nothing, with Arthur putting in his own two penn'orth. Ever since the window-smashing episode Amy had been behaving like a little fool. She claimed to hate the boss's son, but there was more to it than that. She would be always bursting into tears, turning her nose up at the food on her plate. She was getting thin; most unlike her. What's more, she looked for arguments with Charlie all the time. It was time to put her foot down, Dolly decided.
‘If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a person who goes looking for a quarrel,' she told herself, descending out of the sunlight into the depths of Hosiery. Cooper had long since had his windows repaired and they were good as new. The workers had put in overtime and business was back to normal, as Duke Parsons had predicted. ‘I'm going to have to have a talk with that girl when we get home tonight!'