Bella believed every word he told her, every variation of the tale he devised, every invention, every bare faced lie. Mainly because she wanted to. And when he pushed her down along the top of the wall so that he could better explore this burgeoning passion between them, she only urged him on, pulling him closer, pressing the hand, that persistent source of delight, ever closer. Giving a little whimper of pleasure she slid her arms about his neck and gave herself up to a need which consumed her utterly and yet needed so much more.
Billy Quinn was disappointed at not having achieved his goal that night at the docks. For all the pleasure Miss Isabella Ashton clearly found in their coupling, so far and no further was the order of the day. Still, he would enjoy the challenge of pursuing her and her ultimate surrender, when it came as it surely must, would be all the sweeter for his exemplary patience. Not that patience came easily to him. The incident had left him a bit crabby, a mite frustrated, you might say. But there was always an alternative.
He made a regular habit of waylaying Jinnie after the mill had loosed on a Saturday, just to check that everything was running smoothly. This afternoon he announced that he had another proposition for her.
She sighed with resignation. ‘What is it this time? I’m having the devil of a job with this Draw Club. I spend half my time chasing ‘em up for payment.’
‘Yer looking mighty pretty today, girl. Going up in the world suits ye, so it does.’ He chucked her under the chin. ‘Time enough for explanations later. There’s another little matter I wanted to have a word with yous about. Ye’ve been talking to our mutual friend, I believe.’
‘Mutual friend?’
‘Miss Isabella Ashton.’ Even as the thought to run flew into Jinnie’s mind, he was taking her arm, starting to lead her through the maze of streets.
‘Don’t fret, girl. I’ll forgive you for spilling the beans about our colourful past, though it comes at a price. Now yer not going to be difficult again, are ye? Ye know how I hates to hit yer, so be a sensible girl and don’t provoke me or I might regret me kind generosity.’
Fear curdled like sour bile in her stomach and Jinnie whimpered a silent prayer for deliverance, desperately glancing about to right and left, hoping someone, anyone, would come to her aid. No one did and she knew only too well that salvation, were it to come at all, could only be brought about by her own hands. I just have to do as he says, she repeated to herself, over and over, then he’ll let me go and I’ll be free to go home again, to Edward.
He led her to his new abode: a two up and two down dingy back-to-back in one of the many courts off Liverpool Street. Thrusting her into a stinking kitchen, Jinnie was confronted with a pot sink piled high with pans and dishes congealed with stale food. Flies buzzed about and on the floor where a pool of milk had been spilled, a rat scuttered away, disturbed at his feasting by their entrance. Quinn closed the door and shot the bolt across. Jinnie’s heart plummeted, knowing she was trapped and there was nothing she could do about it. He ordered her to make him a bacon butty and while she set about frying and buttering, she could feel his eyes watching her every move as he smoked a Player’s Weight cigarette.
Thinking of how she could be spending this lovely sunny afternoon, Jinnie felt like weeping. But she didn’t weep. She grimly cooked his meal, made him a mug of tea and sat quietly by as he consumed it, his attention now entirely taken up with reading the
Chronicle
. As he ate, she summoned all her fighting spirit and soon it was as if flames were licking the backs of her eyes, as if the entire room had taken on a haze of fiery red, so filled was she with rage. Finally it burst from her in a torrent of words. ‘Well, I can’t sit here all bleedin’ day. Are you ever going to tell me what all this is about?’
Quinn folded up his paper with painstaking care and set it carefully to one side. ‘It’s good to see ye so eager. Well, pin back yer lug holes and I’ll tell you what I have in mind. I wants ye to go ‘on crow’ fer me.’
‘Eh?’
‘All I’m asking is for ye to make yourself useful, to help keep watch for the rozzers while I run me regular school by the cut every Sunday afternoon. Now that I’m a man short, ye understand. Simple, is it not? I’ll even pay you. How does thirty bob grab ye? No reason why ye shouldn’t benefit from my increasing good fortune. I’m a fool to meself but feeling generous today.’
Jinnie was devastated. This meant that he wanted her to give up Sundays now, as well as Saturdays. Her one free day with Edward. What possible excuse could she give if she suddenly stopped being available to go on their regular Sunday afternoon walks and picnics. Edward already objected to her mysterious errands on a Saturday afternoon as well as the odd evening during the week when she was forced to work for Quinn. He’d be accusing her of having a lover if she went on in this fashion. And Quinn would be happy enough to prove the fact, if it suited him.
‘Nay, I don’t think so. I’ve enough on me plate, ta very much.’ She got up to go. Quinn smiled, gestured to her to sit down again. Jinnie obeyed.
‘Ye’ll meet me by the canal next Sunday, and every one after that. Ye’ll have no difficulty in finding me, since there’ll be quite a crowd. Two o’clock sharp. There’s a good girl.’
Jinnie knew when she was beaten. ‘Aye. Right. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Ye’ll do splendid, I’m sure. Don’t ye always?’
She thought, now that he’d given her these fresh orders, that he would let go and again Jinnie got to her feet, ready to leave. But she was wrong.
He put back his handsome head, wiped the crumbs from his mouth and chuckled softly. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the stairs and fear now gripped her so fiercely she couldn’t move. Still laughing, Quinn grasped her by the scruff of her neck and pushed her up the stairs, thrust her into a bedroom that smelled of damp and green mould and shut fast the door. Jinnie felt as if she’d walked into the jaws of hell.
‘Don’t stand there quaking in yer fancy shoes, Jinnie girl. Ye know me needs and how I like to be kept happy. Haven’t I been patient long enough? Ye owe me this one, Jinnie girl.’
If it crossed her mind to protest, it was no more than a fleeting, desperate thought, quickly swamped by memories of Harold and Sadie. If she didn’t want to be the next victim nursing broken bones or dragged from the canal, then she’d be wise to do as he said. Only a fool crossed Billy Quinn. Jinnie said not a word as she slid out of her smart grey work frock, letting it fall to the stained linoleum floor. Quinn’s brows lifted with appreciation as she stood before him in her crêpe de Chine cami-knickers. Seeing the excitement mounting in him she uttered not a sound as he pushed her back on to the filthy sheets, though he tore the fine fabric as he ripped them from her.
‘Ye’ll do as I say, girl, or rue the day. Ye wouldn’t want to spoil things with that lovely man of yours, now would ye?’
Jinnie knew how Quinn would take great pleasure in telling Edward everything. He’d sicken that lovely, innocent young man, not only with the unvarnished truth but by supplying a version much embellished by his own sick fantasies. He’d tell of the nasty things she’d used to let him do to her, making it seem as if she’d wanted him to do them. Edward would then call off their wedding and Emily would have the excuse she’d always longed for to throw her out of the house.
Assuming Quinn hadn’t already chucked her in the cut and saved them all the trouble.
He entered her, as he always did, with brutal force and, well trained in the art of survival Jinnie swallowed her whimpers of pain, bit down hard on her lower lip, closed her eyes and lifted her mind into some far distant place, waiting patiently for it all to be over as she had done so many times before. She knew that she’d no control over how he used her body but she could at least keep her spirit free. She could tolerate his abuse of her because she’d developed, through the years of her adolescence, the kind of tough spirit needed to withstand it. Wasn’t she an expert?
Yet this time it was different. This time when his grunting, sweating body heaved and pounded endlessly upon her, bruising her pale skin, Jinnie experienced a deep sense of revulsion. She felt nauseated by the acrid stink of tobacco and whiskey on his breath, loathed the liberties his hands took with her body. He was so unlike Edward, so much the opposite of everything she had come to love that she could barely keep these emotions hidden. Yet she also knew that to allow Quinn even a glimpse of the deep fear and hatred she felt for him, could well be the death of her.
Inside, deep in her heart, she believed herself to be pure. Edward was the one she loved and nothing Billy Quinn could ever do to her would eradicate that. She would protect those precious feelings, and her beloved Edward, no matter what the cost to herself.
Finally, Quinn’s body shuddered with orgasm and slumped heavily upon her. Jinnie sent up a silent prayer that at least his seed could do her no further harm. She waited until she heard the familiar sound of his snores then struggled back into her clothes, hating the feeling that she was dirtying these precious garments by putting them back on after what Quinn had done to her.
As she crept out of the house and hurried back towards Seedley Park Road, Jinnie knew, as Quinn had intended her to know, that she was not free of him, never would be free. Not while he lived and breathed.
Bella barely slept that night, collecting odd glances from Violet at the breakfast table and studiously avoiding any contact with Dan. Still unable to find a job, she walked to the clinic and engrossed herself in paperwork and letter writing, getting through the morning somehow, her mind in turmoil. Who should she believe, Jinnie or Quinn? Who did she
want
to believe? Even fifteen was too young. But if he had made mistakes in the past, couldn’t he change? Couldn’t she change him?
On Saturday morning she called on Reg Clarke to check on how Sally’s children were doing, taking them a few old clothes and odd items of food and groceries. His eyes lit up at the sight of the parcel in her hand and he eagerly allowed her inside, explaining how he was bearing his loss as well as could be expected but couldn’t cope with looking after his family on top of his work at the factory. Bella offered to find him a child minder but he said the vicar was asking someone he thought might help. Bella handed over the groceries, watching with sad resignation as he carefully stored the few items into his empty cupboard, wondering if the children would even get a taste. Sally had always made them both a pot of tea. Reg merely sat down in his chair by the fire while she examined the four children.
She heated water and bathed them all without assistance, combed their hair free of nits as best she could, put cream on their sore bottoms and dressed them in the clothes she had brought. Then she fed them on bread and jam and milk, advised Reg not to let them crawl about on the floor unless he gave it a good scrub first and finally took her leave, promising to call on the children from time to time, whenever she could manage it.
The visit had taken longer than she’d expected. Since it was Saturday she abandoned all idea of further work for the day and headed for Pendleton Co-operative where she intended to purchase some new boots, her own looking decidedly shabby after the hard wear they’d been given recently. Quite by chance, she ran into her colleague, Dr Syd, who wanted to know where she’d vanished to the previous evening. By the time Bella had finished the tale, she looked ready to personally land a punch on the little doctor’s nose.
‘You realise he’ll be even more of an enemy now.’
Bella looked into her friend’s concerned face and knew that she was right. ‘What was I supposed to do? The toad thinks that just because I’m involved with a women’s clinic, I’m some sort of tart. I could easily have killed him on the spot.’
Dr Syd giggled. ‘I think I would have. You were absolutely right to so forcibly speak your mind and leave. But I reckon we’ll have to deal with the back-draught.’
‘You can’t take everyone’s battle on your shoulders.’ The voice was that of Nurse Shaw’s and Bella swung round, realising for the first time that Dr Syd wasn’t alone.
‘Mary, I didn’t realise you were here too. Must be a day for shopping.’ By her side was a young man and Bella cast him a quick glance of enquiry, smiling politely as she waited to be introduced. He was smartly dressed in blazer and slacks with two young girls, one of about ten, the other little more than seven or eight, hanging on to his hands. The man was frowning, as if displeased by something, perhaps at being ignored.