No Angel (Spoils of Time 01) by Penny Vincenzi Read Free Book Online

were in trouble. The rent was seven shillings a week, and the family spent another shilling a week on coal. It was a lot, but then the basement was cold and damp; that was the drawback of the low rent. Sylvia’s friend, Joan, who lived just beyond the Oval, had three upstairs rooms, seven children and managed on far less coal. Still, Sylvia wouldn’t have swapped places with her; Ted was so kind and gentle, had hardly ever hit any of the children, and had certainly never hit her.
    He had even given up smoking years ago, and scarcely ever drank. Although if he did, he changed a bit. Joan’s husband had a terrible temper; he beat the children if they were naughty, or even cheeky, with a leather belt, and if Joan didn’t have his dinner ready, or his breakfast, for that matter, when he came through in the morning, he hit her too. And although he earned more than Ted, as much as thirty shillings in a good week, he spent up to a shilling on drink.
    Ted and Sylvia had been married for eight years now; and they were still happy. Life wasn’t exactly easy of course, but their children were all healthy, and the three at school were doing well, could all read and write their names and the oldest, Billy, was really good at his numbers. And it was a nice street they lived in, very few troublemakers, everyone ready to lend a hand to everyone else. The landlord wasn’t too bad either; twice when Ted had got behind with the rent, once because the baby was ill and they’d had to pay the doctor, once when Ted himself was ill and off work for three weeks, he’d given them time to pay. Being thrown out on the street was not something Sylvia worried about. Finding room for them all, within their few, constricting walls, keeping them healthy with the constant damp, keeping them clean with the high cost of soap and of heating water, keeping the housebugs at bay, those were the daily problems she had to cope with. Somehow, with Ted’s kindness and patience, she managed, and managed to stay fairly cheerful as well. But she was very much afraid that if she was in the family way again, she might not be able to.
     
     
    She couldn’t be. She simply couldn’t be. Not now. Not just when everything was so much better; not when her work was so wonderfully enthralling and satisfying; not when she was feeling happy and strong; she just couldn’t be. Of course she wasn’t. It was only a few days late. Probably because they’d been so busy lately. Yes that must be it. And worrying about it of course. That always held it up. But – well she knew when it had happened. If she was. The night after a literary dinner where Oliver had been the guest speaker. He had been terribly nervous, had rehearsed his speech for days. She’d listened patiently, making suggestions, admiring this turn of phrase, that literary reference, all the jokes. It had been at the Garrick, so she hadn’t been able to go. He had got ready, dressed in his white tie and tails – it had been that grand – in silence. He had been white-faced, clearly felt sick.
    ‘You mustn’t worry,’ she’d said, going over to him, putting her arms round him, ‘you’ll be marvellous. I know you will. And I shall sit here, thinking about you and just willing you through it.’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ he’d said, ‘but you don’t understand, so many marvellous people are going to be there, all the giants of our business, Macmillan, John Murray, Archibald Constable, Joseph Malaby Dent . . . it will be David and Goliath, Celia, I really don’t know—’
    ‘Oliver,’ she said almost severely, ‘that is an absurd thing to say. You know perfectly well David slew Goliath. As you will tonight. Now give me a kiss and let me do your tie. You know you can never do it when you’re nervous. There. You look wonderful. So handsome. And more important, very impressive and – and literary. Now go along, my darling. And don’t forget to pause at the end of each paragraph. Don’t hurry it. Let them