The Take by Martina Cole Page A

nodded and lit a cigarette. Giving it to her daughter she said gently, 'Sit yourself down, love, I'll make it.'
    The kindness in her mother's voice was nearly Jackie's undoing, and as usual they had gone from hysterical laughter to verging on tears in seconds.
    'Has he been home?' This was said quietly.
    Jackie beamed as she answered. Drawing heavily on her Kensitas cigarette she said gaily, 'He is really excited, Mum, can't wait.'
    Lena smiled once more, glad to see her daughter happy. The pregnancy was keeping her on an even keel for the moment. She prayed daily that Jackie would be delivered of a boy, it was what she wanted so desperately that she had spent huge amounts on seeing tarot readers, psychics, and any other fortune teller she could find in the local paper or through word of mouth.
    All had said the same thing, it was a little lad. Well, it had better be.
    Freddie was out and about a lot, but with her pregnant he was at least touching base more often. After the miscarriage he had been contrite and had blamed himself, but that wasn't going to last for ever.
    'You are keeping off his back, aren't you?'
    Jackie sighed. ''Course I am. It don't do me any good getting upset, does it? Like you always say, it won't bring him home.'
    Lena decided not to pursue that line of conversation. The last year had been touch and go with Jackie and Freddie, especially since he had started working the houses along with the other businesses. She had been at the mercy of the houses herself a long time ago when her husband had been a pretender to the throne, and her Joseph had not had half the looks of Freddie. But then, brasses were a breed apart, everyone knew that. They looked out for the main chance and who could blame them?
    Lena had sat it out for years, and now her husband was all hers. It was a hollow victory, she admitted, but a victory all the same. For Jackie, leaving Freddie was not an option and she knew that, but she still dreamed that one day her daughter would get what she wanted from her husband. From what she had heard, though, he was still pole-vaulting with anything in a short skirt. As her husband had remarked so often about his son-in-law, no change there then. And as her husband and Freddie Jackson were like two peas in a pod, she also knew that he was speaking from experience.

    Maggie was smiling her usual sunny smile as she washed hair and made endless cups of tea. Her job as a trainee hairdresser was everything she had wanted and more, and her life revolved around Jimmy, work, Dallas and her family.
    The fashions suited her, the glamorous looks were made for her wide-spaced eyes and thick blond hair, and as such she made a striking contribution to the salon where she worked. Even with the thick make-up she still looked young and fresh, and that was her attraction.
    Her dear little face and happy-go-lucky charm worked wonders with the clientele and she made a fortune in tips. The owner of the salon, a tall woman with high hair and a pseudo French accent knew a find when she had one, and treated Maggie with the right amount of respect and caring.
    This little girl was a quick learner, a kind-hearted and available listener, and did not see anything to do with the hairdressing or the salon beneath her. Madame loved her, and so did anyone who came into her orbit. All the other young girls she had trained up had smiled and worked and waited until they could go on the trot — a hairdresser's in Bethnal Green was not their idea of sophistication. Maggie was grateful to be there, and it showed in everything she did. Most of the week it was perms, older women who had had the same styles since the fifties. They had their hair done once a week, it was lacquered so much it would not have moved in a hurricane, and they gossiped and laughed as they drank tea. Three days later they came back for a 'combout'. And Maggie did these with her usual smile.
    But it was the Friday nights and the Saturdays when Maggie came into her