She’d be sad to move away from him – from here even. She’d become attached to this squalid room with its broken, second-hand furniture, the landlord with his skinny hand held out for his weekly rent. Could she ever keep in with the group she’d come to know and like, or would she drift away, expected to mix with people of standing, moneyed people, people she felt she could never become part of, would always feel awkward with? Or would she eventually rise to their heights, her nose turned up at the lowlier sort? Would she forget her humble beginnings?
That thought turned her mind to her father, to her original plan to take her revenge on him, to belittle him, to see him squirm before her. She could do that now. But did she still want to, wherever he was?
And there was Ronnie. Would he want to associate with her: the artist who had made good, the grand lady? As she would feel outclassed by those in society circles, so he would feel outclassed by her. She’d give him her new address when she moved; but would he feel too embarrassed to visit it?
Still gazing down at the quiet street below, beginning to feel quite desolate about this new future looming before her, she found the view swimming through sudden moisture collecting in her eyes.
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie, disconcerting her for a moment. But it might be Felix. Turning from the window, she went to answer the knock, hurriedly wiping the tears from her eyes as she went.
Opening the door, Ellie gasped. There stood the very man she’d been thinking about.
‘Ellie! I think I’ve got some good news for you,’ he burst out without even greeting her, ‘about yer dad! Sorry it took so long ter find anything out. I even thought I’d come to a dead end, but… Look, can I come in?’
She felt no shame in him seeing the state of the place where she lived. His home wasn’t much better. But that wasn’t what occupied her thoughts at the moment. Her heart had begun beating rapidly with heavy, sickening thuds at mention of her dad.
Ronnie gave her no chance to speak. Without a glance around the room he carried straight on talking. ‘After all this time I think I’ve traced yer dad’s whereabouts. Got it through the newspaper I work for. What I did was ter put advertisements in from time to time. Then the other day someone answered – said they knew of ’im; so I thought I ought ter come and let you know.’
Ellie wanted to hug him, not because of his news – that held nothing to lighten her heart, but with the joy of seeing him. But to throw herself into his arms and probably alarm him wasn’t proper, even though her heart was now racing with delight, pushing aside that first heavy beat at news of her dad.
She made herself calm a little and asked as evenly as she could, ‘Did they give any address?’ though what she would do when she saw him she had no idea. It had been such a shock, coming out of the blue like that.
Ronnie was frowning. He seemed reluctant to oblige.
‘Is it a long way away?’ she queried.
‘No, not far,’ came the reply: ‘Whitechapel – but it might be better if I take you meself.’
It was all she wanted to hear: Ronnie going with her, walking beside her, perhaps letting her hold his arm.
‘I wouldn’t want you dashing off there on yer own,’ he was saying. ‘It’s a bit squalid where he’s living. I say squalid: it’s a dump.’
Ellie bit her lip, grew serious. This wasn’t what she’d expected. She didn’t quite know what she’d expected – her father perhaps living it up with that woman he’d left her mother for, he dressed up to the nines, her with paint on her face and common as muck.
‘When I say dump…’ Ronnie paused to scratch the side of his head as if giving himself time to say what he had to. ‘To be truthful, according ter what the person said who answered me ad, I think it might be a dosser – a doss house. Not a fit place for a young lady to wander into on ’er own. I’ll ’ave ter come with you, Ellie. You don’t mind, do yer?’
Did she mind? Not only did she want to have him with her, it seemed she needed to have him with her.
‘Should we go now?’ she asked.
‘If yer want to.’
‘I do.’ Dora was standing by, looking anxious. Ellie turned to her. ‘Stay here, Dora. I shan’t be long. I just need to speak to him, then I’ll be back. I don’t think it wise for us all to go barging in wherever your dad is.’
Dora nodded dumbly. Ellie didn’t think she, having heard the conversation, would have wanted to come along anyway. She herself was feeling a little sick, wondering what would confront her. Her father was obviously down on his luck for the moment – as he’d been many times before; but he had always bounced back. In a way, it did make it easier to say what she planned to say.
While Ronnie waited for her outside the door, she changed into the expensive dove-grey costume and fashionable matching hat she’d worn at the exhibition, bought with the money Hunnard had advanced her.
Ronnie looked at her with rapt amazement as she came out of her room, making her feel she’d dressed too smartly for him, especially when he took her by the hand to help her down the stairs as if she were a real lady, incapable of negotiating their steep descent without assistance. In the street he threaded her arm through his; and now he even seemed proud
