After Hours Read Online Free Page B

picture?’ She enjoyed the way Sadie chose to look these days. As a young and single woman, shecould get away with the new short skirts, the dark eye make-up and lip rouge.
    Maurice grunted. ‘I expect Richie Palmer thinks so too.’ He wandered off into the sitting-room, moved a newspaper from a low table and sat with his feet propped up, head back, trying to wind down.
    â€˜Richie Palmer?’ Jess had to call through from the kitchen. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
    â€˜That’s what I thought. But that’s who she was with tonight. Richie Palmer from Rob and Walt’s place.’ He predicted to himself the effect this piece of news would have.
    Jess came through, hands on hips. ‘Maurice, you ain’t kidding me?’
    He shook his head. ‘You could’ve knocked me down with a feather. What’s she see in him, for God’s sake?’ They knew Richie only as the surly mechanic at the taxi depot; hardly a likely candidate for Sadie’s attention, even if she wasn’t already walking out with one of the bosses from there.
    Jess frowned and shrugged. ‘It’s her business. And I expect they was just friendly, that’s all. You know how much Walter has to work these days. You can’t blame Sadie for going out and enjoying herself.’
    Maurice applied this to his own situation. The idea of Jess going out and enjoying herself, as she called it, touched a raw nerve. ‘Some would.’ He bent forward to pick up the newspaper. ‘Like your pa, for instance.’
    Jess went and crouched by his chair, one hand on his shoulder. ‘Oh, Maurice, don’t go telling tales on Sadie! Pa’s got enough to cope with.’
    He glanced at her over the newspaper and curbed his next remark. Instead he said, ‘Why don’t you have a quiet word with Sadie, then? Explain how it looks to other people when she goes two-timing Walter for some shady character like Richie Palmer.’
    Jess breathed out sharply and stood up. ‘Maybe Sadie don’t care how it looks to other people.’
    â€˜Then she should, tell her.’ Maurice closed the subject. ‘It sayshere the Welsh miners are on strike again for more pay.’ He pointed to a headline. ‘It’s back to the old hunger marches, it seems like.’
    Jess looked at the photograph of coal-blackened feces beneath worn-out caps; a ragged procession of half-starved men. ‘Quite right too. They deserve a decent living,’ she said hotly.
    â€˜But not strike for it. Look what happens to the whole blooming country if they go on strike, what with winter coming up.’
    Jess turned away. There’s no talking to you, Maurice.’
    She went out into the polished hallway, automatically pausing to listen to any sound from the bedrooms. All was quiet, so she slipped into the front room to take up her sewing. Half an hour later, she heard her husband close the sitting-room door and go quietly upstairs. Then she switched on the radio, turning the loudspeaker volume low, listening as she cut and tacked the silvery cloth to news of hardship in the Welsh valleys; children working in the pits while her own two slept soundly in their beds.
    â€˜Come to bed, Duke,’ Annie said. She stretched across the hearth and tapped his hand. ‘You look done in.’ The fire flickered low in the grate, Hettie and Sadie were both safely back home.
    â€˜You go,’ he told her. ‘I’ll hang on here. I want a word with Rob. I don’t expect he’ll be long.’
    â€˜Hm.’ She was unconvinced but, nag as she might, she knew the old man would never get himself off to bed before all the others were in. Old habits died hard. ‘Rob can look after himself, you know.’ She rose stiffly from her seat, ready to go through.
    â€˜Better than most, I reckon.’ In spite of the loss of one leg during wartime action, Rob managed to keep himself fit and