Only now, when she was completely ready, could Edie bring herself to look in the mirror. She gasped at how short her skirt really was. She hadn’t quite expected to remove that much material. For a moment she wondered if she had the courage to go through with it. But she was desperate. Without a husband she’d never have a home of her own. She’d always be a child in her father’s house. She’d always be the Too Girl. She would have nothing to do, her father wouldn’t ever let her work and her mother looked after their house and didn’t need her help. As much as she loved her father, she had to escape, she had to have her own home and her own life. She stood back a little and pretended she was Missus Theo Hooley.
Missus Blackmarsh always tugged her hair, black like her name, so tightly into a bun like a doorknob on the back of her head that her eyebrows were pulled up and her skin was stretched over the harsh pointy bones of her face. Her eyes became tiny dark slits through which she peered disapprovingly at the world. She had seen Edie through her slit eyes gazing at Theo one Sunday and said to herself, ‘Well, well, well, fancy that.’ And then she had turned to Missus Whitlock and said, ‘Too Girl is far too loud to ever catch quiet Mister Hooley.’
‘He’d never say another word,’ added Missus Whitlock. And laughed as they looked at Edie, who knew they were laughing at her and blushed. Since her interest in Theo had been noticed, the other girls, who might not have thought of him before, thought that if Edie was interested in Theo he must have something worth being interested in and were now considering him a viable option. Edie had seen them flitting and fluttering around him. She’d seen Vera Gamble fluttering just last Sunday, giggling like a schoolgirl at every word he said, which, given Theo, wasn’t many. Edie couldn’t flutter or flitter or flirt. She gazed at the mirror to see what sort of an impact she could make on him, if it would be enough to whet his appetite.
Edie waited behind her door until it was time to leave for church. That way she could put off the inevitable hullabaloo over her skirt. Her heart pounded against the bones of her corset. Her fingers began to sweat as they gripped her umbrella too tightly. It wasn’t the possibility of her father being angry that made her nerves jangle, it was knowing that this was her very last chance. She had thought through all the available men in the district and there were no other possibilities. There was no one else for her if she didn’t get Theo.
Two
The Cure
In church, where the air sits still and lazy around people’s heads, making the women faint and the men sleepy.
Now Theodore Hooley wasn’t a boy in his twenties whose chest was puffed with arrogance and newly discovered clout. Oh no. Theo had been to the African war and come back. He’d had the clout well and truly knocked out of him. At least he’d come back in one piece, and Edie thought that made him worth loving alone. Besides being physically whole, which was undoubtedly a huge plus, Theo Hooley had also come back quieter, hollowed out and embracing the ordinariness of life. He seemed content living with his mother and playing the church’s newly imported organ on Sundays. The men occasionally commented that Theo hadn’t decided on a career since getting back from the war. Many returned soldiers opened a shop or went to the mines, but Theo hadn’t done anything except eat his mother’s cooking and play hymns.
Missus Blackmarsh told everyone Theo didn’t need to work because he had brought back gold from Africa hidden in the seams of his greatcoat, and the quantity grew each time she told the story.
When Edie had mentioned Missus Blackmarsh’s theory to her father, Paul had laughed and said, ‘Well, as I manage the estate for Missus Hooley I think I would know if there was golden treasure involved.’
It didn’t bother Edie that Theo seemed content with an uncomplicated life. It was precisely why she knew that, even though she was now nineteen, she might have a real chance with him. She could just slip into his life almost unnoticed; she could fill a hollow space and the two of them would be comfortable.
She took one last look in the mirror and a deep breath for courage.
‘Edith — we’re leaving.’ Her father’s voice called out again and suddenly, full of the possibility of Theodore Hooley, Edie did feel brave and ‘so what’ if everyone was going to be outraged by her short skirt. She flung open the door and it banged against the doorstop and shuddered like a washboard. The jasmine filled her lungs with hope, she stepped into the entrance hall with its glistening tiles and frowning portraits. She smiled broadly, trying
