reached across and clasped her hand. They lay together like that for a moment, her head on his chest and his arm wrapped tight around her. He whispered again, so softly that she almost missed it, ‘I wish you were coming with me to Boston. One day I’ll take you.’
Another promise. Her heart filled.
She kissed his chest. ‘That would be wonderful,’ she said. ‘But what about Gertie? I couldn’t leave her.’
‘Shh.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll take care of it.’ And he kissed her again before gently helping her back into her dress.
‘We’d best—’
‘Of course, before Freddie …’
They spoke shyly, glancing at each other and blushing like schoolchildren.
Essie turned away to pull on her drawers and lace her boots while Edward refastened his shirt, waistcoat and jacket. She’d just finished fixing her hair when the doorbell rang.
‘It’s Freddie!’
Edward kissed the top of Essie’s head and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before he walked down the hallway to answer the door.
‘Well, hello Freddie. Any luck?’ Essie could hear Edward’s voice carry down the corridor. It was only when she smoothed her skirt and tucked a curl behind her ear that she realised her lovely hairpin was missing. She quickly checked under the table and scanned the floor.
Nothing.
Edward must have removed it from her hair and tucked it away for safekeeping.
She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as she recalled what had just happened between them.
No matter, he would return it to her when they saw each other again on his return from Boston. It was only eight weeks, and then he would be coming back to her, just as he had promised …
The door whipped open and Essie’s mother stood framed in the doorway, holding a candle.
She pulled her shoulders back and stood as if she were a queen. Her hair was neatly swept into a bun, and her green shawl was wrapped around her shoulders to hide her filthy tunic. But the dark rings under her eyes and the spider’s web of red veins across her pasty cheeks and nose betrayed her.
Essie cringed as Edward held open the door of his motor for her to climb out. Freddie had hurried inside some minutes ago, leaving Essie and Edward alone to say goodbye.
It was kind of Edward to offer to drive her and Freddie home at this late hour. He’d insisted—said he was driving out anyway for a late supper with friends at a new restaurant before he set sail tomorrow. Essie felt threads of hope and confusion twist in her stomach as she pictured him drinking and dining in a posh restaurant with his well-dressed friends. How would she ever fit into that world?
Essie met her mother’s icy gaze as she stood on the doorstep and brushed her nerves aside. She needed to move quickly to shoo away her mother before she spoke—or, worse, invited Edward inside.
Her chest tightened with embarrassment and shame. What would her beau think of her if he saw how she lived? Would it make him realise that she didn’t belong with him in his Mayfair flat?
‘You shouldn’t have waited up, Ma.’
‘Well, when your brother came inside alone, I got to wondering what could be keeping you.’ Ma narrowed her eyes as she took in Edward’s bespoke striped suit, front-creased trousers and pale shoes. ‘And now I see.’
‘Ma’am.’ Edward removed his cream Panama hat to reveal a neat part and stepped forwards under a streetlamp with his hand outstretched. ‘Edward Hepplestone. I’m pleased to meet you.’ He beamed with the easy confidence of someone who was welcomed wherever he went.
‘Mrs Murphy,’ Ma grunted stiffly. ‘It’s after ten thirty. And I’ll thank you not to be keeping my daughter outside.’ Clementine reached forwards and wrapped her fingers around Essie’s wrist, squeezing tightly. ‘Good evening, Mr Hepplestone.’ She nodded haughtily.
‘Evening, ma’am.’ He tipped his hat in farewell. ‘Esther. I’ll see you—’
But Essie didn’t get to hear where and when he would next see her, because Ma had whipped her inside and slammed the door.
‘Ma! That was so rude. I didn’t get to say goodbye.’
‘Now you listen here, miss.’ Ma stepped close and Essie could smell the gin on her warm breath. ‘That pretty man with his striped suits and sharp shoes is not for the likes of you.’
Essie felt her neck growing hot. ‘But—’
‘Those green eyes will get you into trouble.’ She poked Essie’s shoulder. ‘Are you understandin’ me?’
‘But, Ma, he loves—’
‘He loves what’s on offer beneath your skirts, Essie.’ She tugged at her daughter’s dress