‘Tewwy,’ Tinker cried happily, and as he sat down she immediately climbed onto his lap, the dog, called TT, by their side. The name had been Terry’s idea, a combination of the first letters of both their names.
Emma took the brown paper bag Terry proffered, her jaw dropping when she saw it was full of tea. ‘My goodness, where on earth did you get this?’
Terry winked, his eyes twinkling. ‘From a mate of mine.’
‘But I can’t take this much. It’s still on ration.’
‘Now then, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’
‘How on earth did your friend get hold of it?’
‘It ain’t nicked, if that’s what you’re thinking, and with the amount of tea me and Eric drink, I’m sure it’ll come in handy.’
Doris reached up to rest her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s good of you, Terry, and thanks.’
‘Er…yes, thanks,’ Emma said, turning to busy herself with filling the teapot.
When she placed it on the table, Terry’s young labourer smiled shyly. Eric was a quiet lad. His face was covered in angry-looking spots, which obviously embarrassed him. He was always polite and beneath the spots he reminded Emma in some ways of Luke.
On that thought she frowned. There had been a letter from him that morning, his words, as
before, almost fanatical. On and on he went about the sins of women, how she had to repent and, upset, she had crushed this letter into a ball too before throwing it into the bin. Luke seemed so distant now, so far away, so alien from the brother she had known.
Oh, she didn’t want to think about Luke and instead busied herself with pouring the tea. Tinker was chatting to Terry as usual, demanding his attention, and Emma caught a frown on Doris’s face. God, the woman was being ridiculous, acting as if she saw the two-year-old as a rival. If this didn’t stop she’d have something to say to her friend. Not only that, she was fed up with Doris interrupting Terry’s work.
For a while they were quiet as they drank their tea. Then Eric carried their cups to the sink, rinsing them out as usual. At first his actions had surprised Emma. Her father, Horace and most men seemed to consider anything to do with housework to be women’s work. They wouldn’t have dreamed of helping, so she found Eric’s attitude refreshing. When gently questioned, he’d told her that his father had been killed during the war, and that his mother worked full time in a factory, a job that kept her on her feet all day. He had three brothers, and the lot of them mucked in, but now they were all working, they hoped to persuade their mother to give up work.
Tinker protested as Terry lifted her from his knee. ‘Sorry, little ’un, but I’ve got to get back to work.’
‘Bang, bang, bang,’ Tinker said.
‘Yeah, that’s right, now play with TT and I’ll see you later.’
Emma had to smile at her daughter’s description. Yes, the building work was a constant racket and she’d be glad when it was over. Terry Green and his labourer would be gone, the house back to normal. Oh, and that reminded her, she still had to talk to Doris about extending their hours. When the men had left she made sure that Tinker was occupied before raising the subject.
‘I don’t know, love,’ Doris said. ‘I’m sure the girls won’t fancy it, and it would be a bit risky to operate during the day.’
‘The girls will earn a lot more money, so why would they complain?’
‘Christ, Emma, they ain’t machines. They’ve got lives of their own, you know. Take me, for instance. When I was on the game I had my mother to see to during the day and only worked at night. A couple of the girls have got kids, and I think Annie is in the same position as I was.’
Emma frowned, annoyed that Doris hadn’t welcomed her suggestion. Yes, she could see that it might be difficult for some of the girls, but others might welcome extended hours. ‘Put it to
them and see what they say. I still want to open for business in the afternoon and if they don’t like it, we’ll find other girls for the shift.’
‘We! More like me, you mean.’
‘Are you complaining, Doris?’
‘No, of course not, but I still think you haven’t thought about the risks. We’ll have men turning up at all hours and questions might be asked.’
‘By who?’
‘Well, the neighbours for one thing.’
‘The house next door is still empty, and there’s no sign of a “For Sale” board. We face the Common, so the comings and goings aren’t that noticeable to anyone else. I think you’re worrying about nothing.’
‘If you say so, but if the rozzers get wind of this place we’ll be in trouble.’
‘Then we’ll just have to hope the new plaque explains our callers.’
‘You seem to have it all worked out so I don’t know why you’re bothering to ask for my opinion.’
Emma sighed. ‘Because I value your input and, as I’ve said many times before, I couldn’t have set this place up without you. Not only that, it’ll mean you’ll be working more hours too.’
‘That doesn’t worry me. After being on the game, this hostess lark is a doddle.’
‘It’s more than I could do,’ Emma said, shuddering at the thought. ‘The building work is going
well, and we’ll need to find a minder soon. Though how we’re supposed to get one is beyond me. After all, we can hardly advertise.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got the perfect person in mind.’
‘Really? Well, that’s good. Have a word with him, but don’t go mad on what you offer him in wages.’
‘I won’t, but he won’t work for peanuts.’
‘All right, I’ll leave it to you. You didn’t put me wrong with a builder, and I’m sure you have the perfect candidate in mind.’
By the time another week had passed, Emma could see light at the end of the tunnel. The new staircase was in place, leading on to the first-floor landing, and she hoped Terry would soon be ready to install the bathroom. She was still keeping him at arm’s length, her tone businesslike when she spoke to him, but he remained friendly and informal.
Doris had spoken to the girls, but only two were interested in the extended hours. She was now on the hunt for a couple of others, without luck so far, but when Doris came back that afternoon she was smiling.
‘Rose put me on to a couple of girls that were interested and I’ve taken them on. They’re both married and prefer day work, so I’ve told them
they can start as soon as the alterations are finished.’
‘Good. You’ve been out for ages, though, and I expect you could do with a cup of tea?’
‘Yes please, love. I’ll just pop round to tell Terry that you’re making a brew. His back is playing up something awful, and no doubt he’ll need a break.’
‘I didn’t notice anything when they stopped for lunch, and he didn’t complain.’
‘You hardly look at the man and Terry ain’t one to moan. I reckon he should pack up this building lark before he cripples himself. I know he doesn’t take on big jobs nowadays but, despite having a labourer, he still gets stuck in. He ain’t that interested in money and there are easier ways to earn a few bob. Anyway, you get the kettle boiling and I’ll be back in a tick.’
On that note, Doris shot out, whilst Emma turned to her task. Tinker was having her afternoon nap, and Emma relished the peace. Her daughter was becoming a handful, a wilful streak showing in her nature, and though she was only two she was beginning to rule the roost. Of course, Emma chided herself, it didn’t help that she spoiled the child, and as Doris returned with the men in tow, she realised that the only person her daughter listened to these days was Terry.
It was going to be hard for Tinker when the man left. Maybe she should do more to keep her
out of his way, though how she was going to achieve this, she had no idea.
‘Hello, Mrs B,’ Terry said as he drew out a chair to sit down.
‘Mrs Bell,’ Emma corrected him.
‘Sorry,’ he said, but his smile wasn’t in any way contrite.
‘Emma, I’ve been talking to Terry and persuaded him to stop taking on building work.’
‘Have you, Doris? Well, I hope he’s going to finish this job first.’
‘Of course he is. Ain’t that right, Terry?’
‘Yes, it’ll be finished in another week. Doris is right, my back is getting worse and the building game isn’t worth the risk of doing it permanent damage. Anyway, I rather fancy the new job you’ve offered me.’
‘New job! What new job?’
He looked puzzled for a moment, his eyes darting to Doris, and it was she who answered. ‘I’ve asked Terry to be our minder. And he’s agreed.’
It didn’t take Terry long to settle into his new job, but on his way to work at twelve o’clock that day, his thoughts were on Emma Bell. Christ, she was an uppity cow, but how a woman who ran a brothel could act like the Queen of Sheba was beyond him.
Doris had told him a little of Emma’s past, and finding out that her background was working class had left him gobsmacked. She acted like a lady, spoke like a lady, and treated him like a bloody servant. Unlike Doris, Emma hadn’t been on the game, but that still didn’t give her cause to act like the lady of the manor. The trouble was he fancied her rotten, and had done since the first time he laid eyes on her. It was mad–she wouldn’t give him the time of day and he knew that–but despite trying, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He deliberately turned up early every day, hoping to see her, and nine times out of ten he did.
Of course Doris was on offer, making it obvious that she was available, but though she wasn’t a bad-looking bird, she’d once been a tart. He didn’t have anything against prostitutes, but taking one out was another matter. Christ, thinking of all the blokes who’d been there before him made his stomach turn.
‘Hello, love,’ Doris said when she answered the door. ‘You’re early as usual.’
He nodded in acknowledgement, following her through to the kitchen and hoping to see Emma. She was there, sitting at the table with Tinker propped on cushions by her side; the child’s mouth opening like a hungry little bird as Emma spooned in food. ‘Hello, Mrs B.’
There was a heavy sigh. ‘Look, will you stop calling me Mrs B? It’s Mrs Bell, but if that’s too hard for you, perhaps you should call me Emma.’
His eyes widened. Was this a breakthrough? Was she going to drop the airs and graces? ‘Right, Emma it is, and how’s my Tinker Bell?’
‘TT not well.’
‘Oh dear, what’s wrong with him?’
‘He’s got bad eye.’
‘I’d better take a look at him then.’ Bending down, Terry peered at the toy dog. One of the glass eyes was loose, but could be easily mended. Giving Tinker a reassuring smile he said, ‘I’ll have him fixed in two ticks.’
The child smiled at him with delight and Terry grinned back. She was a lovely little girl, with the same fair colouring as her mother, and he had already grown very fond of her. She could sometimes be a little madam, demanding attention, but his sister’s kids at that age had been the same.
‘Here’s your tea, Terry,’ Doris said. ‘I was certainly glad you were here last night. It’s unbelievable. We’ve been running for a year without any problems, but in the last month we’ve had two punters turning nasty.’
‘He was half cut and soon sorted.’
‘What half cut?’ Tinker asked.
Emma reared to her feet angrily. ‘Haven’t you two got any sense? I
do not
want business discussed in front of my daughter.’
‘Leave it out, Em, Tinker’s only a nipper. She doesn’t understand what we’re talking about,’ Doris placated.
‘She picked up on Terry saying, “half cut,” and who knows what else she takes in. When my daughter is in the room, I don’t want any discussions about the business. Is that clear?’
God, she’s gorgeous, Terry thought, anger heightening the colour in her cheeks, her vivid blue eyes flashing. She was right, of course; they shouldn’t talk in front of Tinker, and he’d make sure it never happened again. ‘Yes, it’s clear and I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah, me too, Em,’ Doris said sulkily.
Emma nodded in acknowledgement, but her lips remained tight. The atmosphere was strained and, refusing to accept another mouthful of food, Tinker struggled to get down. Emma gave in, lifting her daughter to the floor where she immediately flew onto Terry’s lap.
He hugged her to him, glad of the distraction, and trying to think of some way to turn the conversation. ‘Did you hear about the disaster at the Farnborough Air Show?’
‘No, what happened?’ Doris asked.
‘Well, from what I read in the paper, a jet fighter had just broken the sound barrier when it fell apart over speculators. They reckon that at least twenty-seven people were killed.’
‘I think you mean “spectators,” Terry,’ Doris corrected, ‘and now we know your game, why don’t you drop the act?’
‘Yeah, all right, but loads of people were injured too.’
‘What’s innered, Tewwy?’ Tinker asked.
‘See, and I used the right word this time. “Injured” means hurt, sweetheart.’
‘Like my doggie?’
‘Yes, that’s right, but how about I fix him now?’
‘I help,’ Tinker said, scrambling from his lap.
‘I couldn’t do it without you, darling,’ he said. Glancing at Emma, he was relieved to see that the tension had left her face.
When TT’s eye was fixed, Tinker insisted that he needed a bandage, and it was Emma who found one. She joined them on the floor, tying the bandage over his eye and around his head. With a bow fastened on top, the toy dog looked comical and Emma laughed. Terry saw that her eyes were warm as they met his, and for a moment, he dared to hope.
Almost immediately, her expression hardened and, rising to her feet, Emma said brusquely, ‘Right, Tinker, let’s get you dressed and we’ll go shopping.’
‘No, Mummy. I stay with Terry.’
‘He has work to do, and so does Auntie Doris.’
Tinker tried her usual trick, throwing herself to the floor in a tantrum, arms and legs kicking wildly in protest.
Terry spoke firmly. ‘Now then, stop this. Be a good girl for me, and do as Mummy says.’
‘You no go away, Tewwy?’
‘No, darling, I won’t go away and I’ll pop down to see you later.’ But as he said these words he looked at Emma, relieved to see her small nod.
Mollified, Tinker’s tantrum ceased, and with a sigh of what sounded like annoyance, but could have been relief, Emma took the child’s hand, leading her into the hall.