The Favourite Child by Freda Lightfoot

her daily routine.
    Dr Lisle’s persistent attentions did, however, remind her of another matter on her conscience. She went to her brother and asked if Jinnie had spoken to him yet.
    ‘About what?’
    Bella’s heart plummeted. She was wishing more and more that she’d never made up that tale of the runaway horse. This mythical accident was turning into a nightmare to haunt her. Yet what else could she have done? Mother would never have taken Jinnie into the house if she’d known the truth. ‘There’s something she wants to tell you.’
    Edward’s expression brightened. ‘Has she decided that she’d rather marry me now, and not wait for two years?’
    Bella sighed. ‘You must ask her that yourself. I’m sure she will explain everything to you, in her own good time.’
     
    Jinnie could hardly believe her good fortune. In her pocket jingled twelve shillings and sixpence, evidence of a proper week’s work for the first time in her life. Up until now she’d never earned more than five bob, doing a bit of washing or charring here and there. Quinn had always been at pains to explain how she wasn’t employable, being one of the undeserving poor, and therefore entirely dependent upon his generosity to keep body and soul together.
    It was Saturday and the mill had shut its gates for the weekend. She, along with hundreds of other girls, had joined the exultant exodus, free to do as she pleased till six o’clock on Monday morning. The clatter of clogs on the setts, competing loudly with the chatter and happy laughter, not forgetting the blare of the mill hooter, seemed to bounce off stone walls and wet pavements, filling the damp air with an atmosphere which, to Jinnie at least, seemed to be the very essence of joy.
    They piled onto tramcars, jostling and joking, planning to spend the afternoon on the Flat Iron market, perhaps treating themselves to a toasted tea cake at the Broadway Cafe, take in a flick or go to a dance at the Empress Ballroom on Church Street. The men would look forward to the Saturday match, a new packet of Woodbine or a threepenny bet on the two-thirty and, win or lose, finish off with a bit of forgetfulness in the local pub. Simple, ordinary pleasures which Jinnie, for so long, had been denied.
    Now she was one of the crowd. She had a job, albeit one spent filing or running errands at the beck and call of the terrifying Miss Tadcaster. But it was a start, oh dear me yes. She also had regular meals every single night of the week. Even a bath, should she ever feel the need of one.
    Then there was Edward.
    Jinnie’s insides melted to water just thinking about Edward. He was the dearest, sweetest man she’d ever met, and so determined that they wed, the excitement was at times almost too much for her to bear. It made her feel sick with a funny sort of fear. What if she wasn’t good enough for him? What if he got bored by her stupidity and ignorance, or she embarrassed him by picking up the wrong knife or making a daft remark? And there was the thorny question of children. Edward hadn’t yet brought the subject up, being a shy man and them being new to this courting lark, but it was bound to be mentioned eventually. What should she say? Should she explain what she’d got Sadie to do? It was all right Bella telling her to be honest and truthful but one thing led to another. If she told him the truth about that dreadful night, then she’d have to explain how she came to be in that condition in the first place, which led to all sorts of complications.
    Jinnie grasped the coins in her pocket and smiled to herself. Oh, but she’d worry about all that when the time came, for now she was on cloud nine. She was in love, just like Vilma Banky with Rudolph Valentino in that film The Son of the Sheik .
    It was as she swung around the corner into Unwin Street that she ran into him, full tilt. One minute her life was perfect with a glint of sunshine on the horizon, the next it was tippling down and she was