After Hours Read Online Free Page A

‘Taximeter Cabs for Hire’.
    He went off down the street, shoulders hunched, cap pulled well down, a familiar late-night sight limping home to the Duke.

Chapter Three
    Jess heard the click of the front-door lock. Maurice was home from work. She looked up from the paper pattern she had carefully laid on to the silky silver-grey fabric on the front-room table, under the glow of the standard lamp. First he would steal upstairs to look in on sleeping Grace and little Maurice, then he’d come back down to tell her about his day. Taking three pins from her mouth, she tucked them neatly into the pattern to secure the cloth beneath. Then she glanced into the mirror over the mantelpiece. Strands of hair had worked free of the loose bun at the nape of her neck. She tucked them back into position and straightened her blouse into the waistband of her skirt.
    Maurice took the stairs two at a time. Along the landing, he spotted Grace’s bedroom door standing open. When he peeped inside, it was as he’d suspected; that little monkey, Mo, had decamped from his own room further down the corridor and come to snuggle up beside his big sister. Their two dark heads lay together against the white pillow, round-cheeked and peaceful, their breathing light, almost silent. He tiptoed across the carpet, turned down the blanket on Mo’s side, and, careful not to wake him or Grace, he took the boy in his arms and carried him to his own bed. He smoothed the pillow, stroked his forehead, then bent to kiss his son’s soft cheek.
    At the sound of his return downstairs, Jess came to the hallway. She greeted him with a smile and an embrace, noticing the usual smoky, damp smell of his overcoat and the shadows around his eyes. He was working too hard. She took his coat and hung it on the hallstand.
    â€˜Mo’s been on his travels again,’ he mentioned as he took offhis jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. ‘Sometimes I think he gets there in his sleep.’ Maurice hitched up his shirtsleeves and followed Jess into the dining-room.
    â€˜Did you take him back?’ Through in the kitchen, Jess put the kettle to boil on the gas stove. It was a point of difference between them; she liked to leave the two children snuggled together, but Maurice insisted that Mo should get used to waking in his own bed, now that he was six and going to school.
    â€˜Yes. But don’t worry, he’s still fast asleep.’ He wandered into the kitchen for a cosier chat. The sight of Jess, reaching for cups from the pantry cupboard, her slim waist shown off by the tight-fitting skirt, pleased him. His arms encircled her from behind and he kissed her neck.
    She returned his embrace with a light kiss on the cheek, then went to stir milk and sugar into the cocoa, waiting for the kettle to boil.
    Maurice leaned against the cupboard watching her. ‘What’ve you been up to while the cat’s been away?’
    â€˜Not playing, if that’s what you think. Sewing.’ She glanced up. ‘I’ve an order to finish for Monday.’
    â€˜And can’t Hettie do it?’ He didn’t like to think of Jess always working, making clothes for the well-to-do women of their new neighbourhood. He felt it could damage their name here in Ealing; people always found a way of looking down on others. As an East End Jew he knew this all too well.
    â€˜Hettie’s at the Mission on a Saturday night, you know that.’
    And because he was feeling edgy about the dressmaking business which Jess and Hettie ran from a small shop on the High Street, he grumbled on. ‘Sadie came up to the Picturedrome tonight,’ he said.
    â€˜Yes?’ Jess handed him the cocoa, still smiling. ‘To see the great screen lover with her pals, I expect?’
    Maurice didn’t answer directly. ‘She was wearing that red outfit you made for her. You can’t hardly miss her.’
    Jess laughed. ‘Don’t she look a