as she left the room. He felt protective of her and as soon as she was out of sight he sprang to her defence. ‘I told you what happened and you can’t blame Mother for this. Jenny really did leave of her own accord.’
‘You’re supposed to have a brain. Use it,’ his father snapped. ‘You said Jenny’s been making your mother’s life a misery, but don’t you think it’s odd that you’ve only just seen it for yourself?’
‘Mother said Jenny’s clever, that she only behaved badly when I wasn’t around.’
‘Right, let’s think about that. From what I’ve gathered, she told you this so-called bad behaviour has been going on for years. How many years?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but since our childhood. Mother mentioned my eleven plus so it must have been before that.’
His father’s laugh was derisive as he slapped a piece of ham between two slices of bread. ‘So you’re telling me that Jenny, who would have been around nine years old then, was wily enough at that age to make your mother’s life hell without you seeing or hearing a thing? We didn’t, and still don’t, live in a mansion, and as this has supposedly been going on for at least seven years, I doubt that hiding it for that long is possible.’
‘I…I hadn’t thought of that…but I have seen it now, Dad.’
‘So you say, but don’t you think it’s strange that after so many years of so-called concealing her bad behaviour, Jenny has suddenly come out into the open?’
Robin frowned as he thought it over. ‘Well, yes, it is a bit odd.’
‘As I said, use your head. I suspect what you saw was Jenny rebelling against her treatment for all these years. You’ve seen how cold your mother can be, how at times she speaks to Jenny like a servant, and I just wish I’d done more to put a stop to it. Now I’m going to find my daughter,’ he said, not pausing to wrap the sandwich. ‘I’ll eat this in the car.’
Robin was left floundering, but it took only a few seconds for him to realise that his father was right. ‘Hold on, Dad. I’m coming with you.’
‘Fine,’ said Edward. ‘Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Though as your mother is supposed to be ill, aren’t you worried about leaving her on her own?’
‘No, Dad. Let’s go and find Jenny.’
Delia didn’t need pills. She wasn’t in a nervous state or depressed. She’d been ecstatic that Jennifer had left home, but then Edward had turned up and now her happiness was replaced by worry. Delia hadn’t gone to bed; instead she’d stood on the stairs listening, and had been horrified by what she’d heard. Blast Edward. Blast him for putting doubt in her son’s mind.
Now, alone in the silent house, Delia cursed her own stupidity. She’d overplayed her hand by putting Jennifer at too young an age to be that clever – but there had to be a way to turn things round. Setting her mind to the problem, she at last realised that there was only one thing she could do. There was no choice. She hadn’t wanted to play this hand yet though, had planned to wait until she was self-sufficient and able to tell Edward that their marriage was over.
It was the only option left to her, Delia decided – and at least she’d be entitled to the house, as well as a decent settlement until Robin finished his education.
With no idea of the drama that was unfolding in Wimbledon, Jenny and Tina were in Chelsea, arms linked as they walked along the King’s Road.
Jenny had found Chelsea nerve-racking at first. Unable to find a flat or rooms at such short notice, the two girls had spent that first night in a seedy hotel. Jenny had hardly slept for worrying that they’d made a huge mistake, but nothing had seemed to faze Tina, and her friend had snored gently all night.
The next morning they had begun their search again, but flats or even bedsits where the rent wasn’t exorbitant proved impossible to find. Footsore and weary, they had finally stumbled across a rundown area at the far end of the King’s Road called the World’s End. The two-roomed pokey flat they at last found was thanks to a card in a shop window and the landlord had asked no questions when he pocketed the rent and deposit. Part of a tall, scruffy terraced house, it wasn’t much, but once they had settled in, Jenny at last found herself happy.
Except for one thing, she thought, and that was her worry that they’d never find jobs. Her hopes of working in a bookshop hadn’t come to fruition, having tried a few without success, including one that was tucked down an alley and specialised in antique books. Tina had thought her mad for wanting to work in what she called a dark, dusty, musty hole, but Jenny would have loved it.
They had tried boutiques, department stores, cafés and restaurants, growing increasingly desperate when it was always their age or lack of experience that let them down. With such a large chunk of her savings gone on securing the flat, Jenny feared that if they didn’t soon find work, her money would run out.
‘Come on, Jenny, step up the pace,’ Tina urged. ‘We don’t want to be late.’
‘There’s no chance of that,’ Jenny said, keeping her fingers crossed that they’d be lucky this time. Surely it had been a good omen that, just as they were passing a newly refurbished café-cum-restaurant, a sign had appeared in the window for staff. They’d been told the new owner would be conducting interviews at eleven today and they had left the flat with plenty of time to spare, determined to be first in line.
‘Right, shoulders back and look confident,’ Tina advised when they arrived.
They stepped inside to find several other hopefuls waiting and were told to sit with them. It was over half an hour before their turn came. Jenny was called before Tina and nervously approached the man conducting the interviews.
He eyed her sceptically, his first question: ‘How old are you?’
‘I’m sixteen.’
‘Is that so?’ he said, a small smile playing around his mouth.
He wasn’t young, but a bit of a dish, Jenny thought, with olive skin and dark hair, Italian or Greek perhaps, she decided, though he had no trace of an accent. She was shaking inwardly but did her best to hide it as she said firmly, ‘Yes, I told you, I’m sixteen.’
‘What’s your name and where do you live?’
‘Jennifer. Jennifer Lavender and I recently moved to Chelsea from Wimbledon.’
‘I’m looking for waitresses. Have you any experience?’
‘Er…no,’ she said. Thinking on her feet, she added, ‘But I’m a fast learner.’
Once again a look of amusement crossed his face and for a moment Jenny began to hope. It was short-lived, as he said, ‘I want trained staff. However…’
As he paused, Jenny blurted out, ‘I’ll do anything, any job.’
‘The only thing I can offer you is kitchen work, cleaning, washing
