An Orphan’s Courage. Cathy Sharp
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