The bus dropped her off about a mile from the church, and Jenny strolled along, gazing at the elegant houses. On reaching the one that had been theirs, she stopped for a moment, hoping the people now living there were happier than her parents had been. As she approached the church, she pulled her pudding-basinshaped hat down to cover more of her face. It was strange, but as she walked past the smart houses, she felt as out of place here as she had the first time she’d gone to Lambeth. She was a different person now. The last two years had changed her, but not for the worse, she thought. In that time she had grown from an unworldly frightened sixteen-year-old to a confident eighteen-year-old. She smiled to herself as she remembered her birthday in August. Glad had bought an iced bun and stuck a candle in it for her to blow out, then it had been carefully shared out amongst them all. Ma’s small room had vibrated with laughter. It was the happiest birthday she had ever had!

She reached the church and slid into the middle of a crowd gathered outside. People did love to see a wedding – anyone’s wedding. The service was already under way, and Jenny could hear the organ playing the familiar hymn ‘Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah’. She thought it a strange hymn to choose for a wedding, but it was a popular favourite.

In about fifteen minutes the guests began to file out of the church, and Jenny shrank back as she recognized her Aunt Gertrude. She still had the same sour expression on her face. Then Albert Greaves appeared, talking to a young girl. Jenny gave a quiet snort of amusement. Perhaps he’d found himself another victim! Then her mother walked out, holding the arm of an elderly man – very elderly.

Jenny searched her mother’s face, trying to find within herself some spark of affection for this woman who had brought her into the world. It came as quite a jolt to realize that there was nothing there. It was as if she were looking at a stranger. But this stranger had abandoned her child when she’d been in need of a kind word, some indication that she loved her. In her selfish horror at being left penniless, Elizabeth Winford had turned away from her child. Jenny didn’t think she could ever forgive her for that.

With one last look at these people she no longer knew, or wanted to know, Jenny Baker turned away from them for ever.

19