‘I won’t go,’ Robin said firmly when they came out into the street again. ‘I’ll run away if I think they’re coming for me.’
Peggy blew out a breath. ‘It won’t come to that,’ she said. ‘We won’t let that happen, will we, Molly?’
Molly sniffled, and then shook her head. ‘No we won’t. I know a good hiding place, Robin, and we’ll go and hide together if people come looking for you.’
Peggy smiled. ‘So that’s settled. Now we’ll pop to ’draper’s shop and see what we can get you for school; you’ll need new breeches, a couple of warm jumpers and shirts, socks – let’s have a look at your boots.’
Robin dutifully lifted a foot. ‘Mm,’ Peggy said. ‘We can get away with a sole and heel, I think. Let’s ask ’cobbler if he can do them now, while we wait.’
An hour later they were on their way home laden with parcels; commodities from the grocer, tender liver from the butcher for Susan, and an extract of willow bark that the pharmacist recommended for headaches rather than a laudanum tincture.
Not a bad day’s doings, one way or another, Peggy thought as they trundled into the yard, and for some reason which she admitted to herself she couldn’t put into words, she had a very pleasurable sense of warmth and satisfaction coursing through her veins.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘I’m going home at the weekend,’ Jenny told Delia. She hadn’t been to see the show, but had come to the stage door when she knew it would be finished to invite Delia out to supper to meet some of her friends who had gathered at the Maritime Hotel. They had had an enjoyable evening, but the others had gone now and the two of them were having a quiet chat.
Delia hesitated. ‘Ah! That’s nice,’ she said, rather feebly, and Jenny gazed at her in puzzlement.
‘I won’t tell them I’ve met you again, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she told her. ‘I’ve already said I won’t. Though I don’t know why you’d be scared of them or your parents knowing, for heaven’s sake. You’re a grown woman. You can do whatever you like; you’re like me, you’ve no ties. We’re practically, but not quite, emancipated.’
‘That’ll be a long time coming.’ Delia gave an ironic laugh to cover her nervousness. ‘But you’re right; one day women will be able to choose what they do with their own lives.’
‘We’ll have to remain single until then,’ Jenny said. ‘As soon as a woman marries she’s merely an appendage to her husband.’
Delia shook her head. ‘You’re such a cynic, Jenny. I feel enormous pleasure and exhilaration when I’m on stage and I’m as equal there as I want to be.’
‘It’s true that I might be a cynic,’ Jenny agreed. ‘I shall marry only when I meet a man who thinks the same as I do and I haven’t found one yet. But what about you, Dorothy? Is there no man in your life?’ she asked more softly, not noticing that she had reverted to her friend’s real name. ‘I always thought that you of all people would settle down to a comfortable life with a husband and children.’
Delia gave a bittersweet smile. ‘To be truthful, so did I. I used to have these youthful fantasies that it would be hearth and home for me, with someone loving and caring. But,’ she added brightly, ‘it wasn’t meant to be.’
‘So,’ Jenny persisted, ‘there isn’t anyone? What about the good friend you mentioned, or the violinist?’
‘The violinist? No, I’ve only just met him. There’s no one. I do see my friend from time to time when I’m in London or Brighton; he gives readings of Shakespeare and sometimes Dickens, and he’s very good, very clever and amusing. But there’s no romance.’
She thought wistfully of Arthur Crawshaw and wondered if he had asked anyone about her. Perhaps he hadn’t missed her yet. Weeks would go by sometimes between their encounters, and only her agent knew where she was at present, for she had written to tell him that she was staying in Hull for the time being but wished to be kept on his books. I might need him one day, she thought, for the three-month contract would soon speed by. She thought how lucky she had been to be given this breathing space. But I don’t want to move from the area yet, not until I’ve decided what to do about my boy, and at the moment I just don’t see how I can resolve it.
Jenny had written a postcard to her parents telling them she would be on the Saturday morning train to Hedon and could someone meet her. Her father was waiting in the trap, with Louisa and Molly behind him.
‘Your ma is preparing a banquet,’ he joked. ‘She’s slaughtered ’fatted calf, brought in a full field of sprouts, carrots, cabbages and potatoes, and is cooking half a beast and Yorkshire pudding that looks fit to overflow the oven.’
‘Have I been away so long?’ She laughed. ‘Hope she’s making a sweet pudding too, cos I’ll still be hungry even after second helpings.’
‘Aye, apple pie and gooseberry crumble, so you’ve got a choice.’
‘Will anyone else be eating, or is it only me?’
‘I’ll help you, Auntie Jenny,’ Molly piped up. ‘I like apple pie.’
‘You do, don’t you, Molly? I remember.’ Jenny turned towards the girls. ‘What have you been up to since I last saw you?’
‘I might be going to school,’ Molly told her excitedly. ‘Gran’s going to ask if I can.’
‘And we might be moving,’ Louisa said quietly. ‘And I don’t want to.’
Jenny turned to her father and raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’
‘Aye, mebbe.’ They trotted through Hedon Market Place and on to the
