About the Author

A dedicated reader and scribbler all her life, ROSIE JAMES completed her first novel (sadly unpublished) before reaching her teens.

Significant success came much later, and over the last twelve years newspaper and magazine articles, short stories and romantic novels followed under her other pen name Susanne James.

Rosie’s four family sagas were the next stage, the plots reflecting her fascination with the human condition – how different, yet how alike we all are. And in every story one thing is guaranteed – a happy ending.

Also by Rosie James

Letters to Alice

The Long Road Ahead

Lexi’s War

Front Line Nurse

(published as The Nurse’s Promise in the US)

The War Girls
ROSIE JAMES

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2021

Copyright © Rosie James 2021

Rosie James asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © January 2021 ISBN: 9780008386948

Version: 2020-12-01

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Also by Rosie James

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Dear Reader …

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For my loyal readers who get in touch with a word of praise – the essential oxygen for writers.

Chapter 1
June 1939

Abigail lay perfectly still, not wanting to disturb her daughter who was fast asleep beside her. It was not yet five o’clock, but pale sunlight was already getting stronger, infiltrating a gap between the flimsy, partly drawn curtains.

Now that her plan was about to happen, Abigail felt a sense of strange weightlessness, as if she might float away with nothing to hang on to. But she had no doubts. She was nineteen years old. It was time to go.

But first, she must inform her aunt of her plans and Abigail knew that the reaction would be scathing and critical. Because that was Aunt Edna’s way. It always had been.

Their isolated cottage, named ‘Coopers’, was one of the most remote in the vicinity. Nestling deep in the Somerset valley, for many years the place had been run as a small holding, and after the death of their parents the young Edna and Arnold Wilson had carried on rearing the chickens and goats, growing the long field of vegetables and tending all the trees in their orchard. The soil was rich and provided a reasonable living so long as they worked from dawn to dusk and the same had been expected of Abigail. Long before she’d started school she’d washed the dishes – standing on a little stool to reach the sink – she’d fed the chickens, milked the goats, picked all the raspberries and strawberries, her aunt always criticising, never praising her.

They had no near neighbours, no one ever came to visit, and their only form of transport was the pony and trap which Edna drove to take their produce to the village on market day. When Abigail started school, and for all the years that followed, she’d always walked the two-mile journey alone, and was never given a lift in the trap, even when it was cold and wet.

Arnold had had a mild nature and had found it hard to stand up to his domineering sister, and although Abigail couldn’t remember her mother, she’d had a doting father for the few years fate had allowed. Sadly, owing to the effects of mustard gas while he’d served in the Great War, his lungs never recovered and in 1930, he’d passed away. Abigail had been ten years old.

But she’d always known that Dada had loved her dearly, and with any money he’d managed to earn, and the little he’d saved, he’d bought her books and games. Each night before she went to sleep, they’d play cards or do a jigsaw and always told each other their secrets. And however late it was, Dada loved to hear her read, so that before she’d started at the village school, Abigail was almost fluent.

And as well as all that, he’d taught her how to draw and paint, and she’d soon learned how to make just a few lines on a page turn into a picture you could recognise and bring to life. ‘Pictures tell stories, Abigail,’ he’d once said. ‘And practice makes perfect, so keep practising because you will find it gives you solace.’ Then he’d gone on to tell her that sometimes in the trenches during the war, he’d sit and draw things that he could see because it gave him peace. Other soldiers would make up poetry, or write long letters home, but he only wanted to draw. And, somehow, he’d been able to bring those pictures back with him and the little wad in the wax packet was among Abigail’s most treasured possessions.

Now, very gently, she turned to gaze down at her daughter’s face, at the mass of dark ringlets tumbling on the pillow, at the long lashes resting on her cheeks, at the cherubic mouth, lips slightly parted as she breathed.

Emily Grace, Abigail’s pride and joy, was just two and a half years old and thanks to Edna’s constant demands and expectations was already another member of Coopers’ hardworking team.

And that was the reason they would soon be leaving.

At last, Emily was about to be introduced to the world. She was not going to be hidden away like something to be ashamed of, as Edna had demanded when sixteen-year-old Abigail had confessed her state of health to her aunt. There had barely been a moment’s silence before the torrent of abuse had begun.

‘You vile, dirty creature,’ Edna had spat out. ‘How dare you bring shame on the house! Well, no one is ever going to know about this, do you hear me! It must be a secret, and eventually, when it gets older we’ll just say we found the child wandering and gave it a home … that’s what we’ll do! But before that, it must be kept hidden away from respectable eyes and ears! You are a sinner! You have committed a grave sin, and God will not forgive you – and neither will I! Shame on you, and shame on the father of your bastard child!’

And the following year on a cold February day, it was Edna who’d delivered the baby in the downstairs room on a rug in front of the fire with no one else there to witness the event. It had been an uncomplicated birth, and true to type, from the very first, Edna refused to show any interest in the child.

The memory of that awful time caused the familiar lump to form in Abigail’s throat. With no one to turn to she’d been forced to obey her aunt, but things were about to change. She lowered her head to gently place her lips on Emily’s soft cheek.

How could anyone not love her precious daughter, and how could a beautiful child’s existence be a shameful thing?

July 1934

It was Abigail’s very last day at school and although she would have loved to stay on longer, her aunt would have none of it. ‘You’ll learn far more working on the land than wasting any more time with books, and drawing stupid, pointless pictures like your father did,’ Edna had declared.

But Abigail had had a very special reason for wanting to delay leaving school and that was because of Luke.

Luke Jordan was the most handsome boy for miles around, and they’d sat next to each other in class for the last eighteen months.

About two years earlier, the Jordan family had come to live at the auspicious Mulberry Court, an elegant house on the outskirts of the village. The couple who owned it decided to rent the place out while they went travelling, and it was not very long before Mr and Mrs Jordan and their son Luke took up temporary residence.

And that was when Luke – a little older than Abigail – had started at the school and had been told to sit at the desk next to hers.

So on that warm, sultry afternoon in late July when the school year had finally come to an end, Abigail checked her desk for the very last time, making sure that she’d packed all her own precious books in her bag, leaving nothing behind for the next person who would sit there in her place. She sighed, trying hard not to cry.

Luke was standing there waiting for her, and as she came towards him, he automatically took her bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and together they left the building and began strolling away from the village.

He knew she was upset, and he glanced down. ‘I’m going to walk you all the way back home this time, and you’re not going to stop me,’ he said softly.

She shook her head briefly but didn’t reply, knowing that, as usual, they would part company at their own special, secret place down there by the river, tucked away from prying eyes, and a full mile from Coopers where strangers rarely set foot.

As soon as they were alone he took her hand. ‘I know you’re fed up about leaving,’ he said, ‘and I’m really going to miss you, Abigail. But look, it won’t be that long before it’ll be my time to clear off, too, and I expect we’ll be going back to London to live. My college place awaits me, and after that, who knows?’ He shrugged. ‘University, I suppose. My father wants me to follow him into the Law, and I quite like the idea … if I’m clever enough. It might even be fun if I have to deal with thieves and murderers and horrible stuff!’

Abigail clutched his hand more tightly. ‘Of course you’ll be clever enough, Luke,’ she said quietly. ‘From the moment you arrived you always did better than the rest of us, coming top in all the tests.’ She didn’t want to go on, knowing that today really was the parting of their ways. Sadly, before very long, handsome, dark-eyed, dark-haired Luke would be in London doing brilliant things and meeting interesting people – interesting, beautiful girls – and she would still be at Coopers, obeying Aunt Edna.

Just then, as they crossed the small road which would lead them further into the countryside, a man on a bicycle appeared. It was a Wall’s ‘Stop me and buy one’ ice-cream man, and he got off the bike, waving his hand and grinning cheerfully.

‘Cornets? Wafers or tubs?’ he said. ‘Good job I saw you two a’fore I reach the village because this lot will soon be snapped up!’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘Hot today, in’it?’

Abigail shook her head. ‘Sorry – I haven’t got any money.’ But Luke stepped forward.

‘Two wafers, please,’ he said, reaching into his pocket for some change. Wafers were their favourite.

The sudden distraction helped to break the downbeat feeling, and soon the pair were enjoying the deliciously cold ice cream as they strolled on.

‘Thanks, Luke, for this,’ Abigail said. ‘Sorry I didn’t have the cash to pay for myself.’ But she needn’t have apologised because he knew very well that she never had any money with her. She’d told him often enough that her aunt held the purse strings.

Luke paused for a moment. ‘D’you know what I wish, Abigail?’ he said. ‘I wish that your chair could stay empty next year, rather than that anyone else should be sitting by me. Because we’ve got on really, really well. We’ve never fallen out, and we’ve always found something or other to laugh about. Well, we make each other laugh, don’t we?

‘I never expected to find anyone like you … a friend at school that I liked, I mean,’ he went on. ‘Of course, I knew I wasn’t going to be there for very long in any case, but it is nice to have someone who you really enjoy being with, isn’t it? Who you look forward to seeing each day.’

Abigail nodded, but didn’t reply immediately. Everything he was saying was true. ‘I’ve never had a friend, Luke. I didn’t have any friends at all until you came.’

He looked down at her, frowning. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because it’s a fact. Even when I was in the Infants I always seemed to be by myself and was never asked to join in the games at playtime. And it got worse in the upper classes when the others could be really spiteful.’ She made a face. ‘It’s probably because of my aunt who everyone thinks is really a witch. And, to be fair, she does look a bit odd, always in her long black skirt, and that awful old apron she made out of a sack … and with her long hair tied back in a bow! I mean, honestly! Doesn’t she realise how silly that makes her look? When she comes on market day, yelling out all the stuff she’s got on the trap, everyone laughs at her. I’ve heard them enough times from the classroom – and when we’re in the playground. And some of the kids shout out and call her names.’

Luke looked down at Abigail, slipping his arm around her waist. ‘Poor you,’ he said. ‘You’ve been fighting a lone battle, and I wish I’d been with you all the time. I wouldn’t have laughed at your aunt and I don’t know why anyone should be unkind to you just because of her.’

‘They probably think she’s taught me how to cast spells and turn people into spiders and frogs,’ Abigail said. Then she paused. ‘The thing is, it’s made me afraid that I will never have friends, that I don’t know how to make friends, or that no one will want to be friends with me,’ she added slowly.

Luke pulled her in closer to him. ‘Of course, one day you will have friends, true friends, Abigail,’ he said softly. ‘Trust me – you will.’

Neither spoke for a few moments after that as they walked on slowly, their steps taking them across the field and down to the river. To their special place, the spot they always stopped before Luke retraced his steps and Abigail walked the last mile home alone. They sat down on the soft turf and Luke lay right back, stretching his arms above his head.

‘I know you’re never allowed to come back to the village after school,’ he said, ‘but surely your aunt would allow it just this once … It is your last day, after all, and they’re showing Treasure Island at the WI hut tonight and tomorrow.’ He turned to look up at Abigail who was sitting with her head resting on her bent knees. ‘We’ve covered some of that book in English, haven’t we?’ he went on. ‘And it would be great to see it at the cinema.’

Abigail didn’t look up. ‘It’s no good, Luke,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘You don’t know what she’s like. She’d make a terrible fuss if I even mentioned it.’

Luke frowned, irritated. ‘Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of your life, Abigail?’ he said. ‘Are you going to be stuck down at that place when you’re fifty or a hundred? Aren’t you ever going to make a run for it?’

Now she did raise her head and look down at him. ‘I will escape one day, Luke,’ she said firmly. ‘When I’m grown up – when I’m no longer a child, I mean – the time will come when I will leave Coopers and never go there again.’

He pulled her slowly down towards him and they stayed close together in silence for a few moments. Then he leaned over and placed his lips on hers, gently at first, then with increasing longing.

And Abigail felt her whole body shiver with pleasure. Of course, they’d kissed many times as they’d walked home from school together, but it hadn’t been like this. This was something different and she liked it. She turned to face him properly and he stroked her hair, twisting a curl gently between his fingers.

‘You are beautiful, Abigail,’ he said quietly. ‘I am never going to meet anyone else who’s got your sweet green eyes … and hair that looks like a splash of sunshine around your shoulders.’

‘But you will, Luke,’ Abigail said quietly. ‘When you leave and go back to London and to college, beautiful girls will be falling at your feet. And you won’t ever think of me again.’

She didn’t want to go on because she knew she was going to sob. Her own words were like knife wounds, hurting and stinging. Because it was terrible to think that they were never going to meet again and even more terrible that someone else would be special to Luke Jordan. Someone he would want to kiss like he’d just kissed her.

In the languid summer heat, with just the occasional drone of a honey bee and the sound of the shallow river trickling at their feet, they lay in each other’s arms, neither wanting to say anything else to disturb the enchantment of these special moments. Moments that were slipping away from them and which they knew would never return.

Then Luke raised himself on his elbow and gazed down into Abigail’s eyes which he could see were wet with tears. ‘I will never meet – or want – anyone but you, Abigail,’ he whispered. ‘And I will never love anyone else but you. I would never want to love anyone else. I give you my word.’

The time was passing all too quickly, and after a few moments Abigail disentangled herself from Luke’s arms and got to her feet. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said reluctantly. ‘My aunt will be waiting with a hundred and one jobs for me to do. And she’ll be looking at the clock, wondering why I’m late.’

He stood and put his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him again. But Abigail moved away. ‘Goodbye, Luke,’ she said quietly. ‘I am going to miss you … so much.’

His expression was dark as he gazed down at her. ‘This is not goodbye,’ he said, his tone unusually terse. ‘Not if you don’t want it to be, Abigail.’

What had he meant by that? Abigail asked herself as she trod swiftly across the fields towards the cottage. Had he meant that however hard it might be, it was up to her to free herself from the stranglehold of life at Coopers? So that they could be together again sometimes, if only for a few hours?

That thought put a spring in Abigail’s step as she hurried home. Luke’s words filled her with determination.

Now it was up to her.

Chapter 2
Early October that same year

Standing at the sink as she washed their breakfast porridge bowls, Abigail glanced back at her aunt.

‘Aunt – why don’t you let me take the trap to market today?’ Abigail asked tentatively. ‘It’s very hot, isn’t it, and you might like to stay home for a change.’

Edna glanced at her sharply. ‘Why ever should I want to do that!’ she said. ‘You’ve never taken our stuff to market in your life and wouldn’t have a clue as to how to get the best sales! Besides, the plums are nearly falling off the branches and are just right for harvesting … it’s going to take some time to pick them and box them all up so that’s what you’ll be doing today!’

Abigail hadn’t been to the village since the day she’d left school because Edna made sure there was never the time nor the need. The couple of occasions on which Abigail had ventured that she might like to go to the village had met with the usual objections. ‘What for?’ Edna always demanded. ‘There’s nothing for you up there anymore, and there isn’t time for you to go skiving off when you’re needed here.’

So, as usual, Abigail did what she’d always done: obeyed her aunt’s wishes.

But today was going to be different Abigail assured herself as she put their dishes away, because she desperately wanted to see Luke! She couldn’t wait a day longer! It had been ten whole weeks since they’d been together, ten whole weeks for her to go over and over that first, really passionate kiss they’d had, the kiss that had said so much.

And remembering Luke’s last words to her, ‘This is not goodbye. Not if you don’t want it to be’, Abigail had made her plans.

She would leave the cottage as soon as Edna left to go to market, and then take a roundabout route to the village. Once there, it would be easy enough to avoid her aunt noticing her, and anyway, once Edna had begun shouting her wares, she wouldn’t have eyes or ears for anyone or anything else.

Even so, as Abigail watched the trap disappear around the bend, she felt her heart begin to race. She had to get to the village, see Luke and return to Coopers before her aunt came back. It should be easy enough, shouldn’t it? But Abigail wasn’t used to subterfuge and the first thing her aunt would do was to inspect what her niece had been doing, and the quantity of plums which had been piled into the huge boxes. Abigail made a face to herself. It was going to be a tight operation – but it would be worth it, just to see Luke again. And the thought that she would soon be gazing up into his black eyes, and hearing his calm, reassuring voice, gave Abigail the determination she needed.

Wearing a simple blue dress, and with her light cotton shawl around her shoulders, Abigail left the cottage and made her way swiftly along the hilly route she’d used many times before. The shawl was partly to cover her head and face in case she was recognised by anyone when she got to the village – anyone who might mention to her aunt that they’d seen her.

Within a very short time Abigail found herself among the large crowd gathered around all the stalls and, keeping her head well down, she skirted the edge of the market and almost ran towards the school. Of course, lessons would still be going on, but she knew that Luke usually went home for his lunch on Thursdays and the church clock had just struck twelve. Moving quickly now, she rounded the corner out of sight of the school and kept walking along the dusty road towards Mulberry Court knowing that soon she would see Luke making his way home, his easy stride swallowing up the comparatively short distance.

With her heart racing in anticipation, Abigail wondered whether to hide and jump out and surprise him … but no, she didn’t want to do that. All she wanted to do was to see him and feel his arms around her again. The dreams that she dreamed every night were not enough. She needed to feel him close, to feel his heart against hers.

And suddenly there he was, walking towards her, his bag slung over his shoulder as usual. He seemed to be looking up at something in the sky, but then his gaze turned towards her and he saw her. Dropping his bag, he was beside her in an instant, throwing his arms around her, almost lifting her off her feet.

‘Hey,’ he said slowly, softly, ‘how have you managed this? You haven’t killed her, have you?’

Abigail laughed shakily. ‘No – I’ve managed to escape but I haven’t got long because I’ve got to get back to Coopers before my aunt returns from the market. I just had to see you, Luke. The last couple of months have seemed endless.’

‘For me, too,’ Luke murmured. ‘I’ve walked down to Coopers twice hoping to catch you alone but your aunt was there right in the front and I didn’t want to get you into trouble.’ With his arm now tightly around Abigail’s waist as they walked along, he looked down at her, the look in his eyes almost making her melt. ‘Luckily, there’s no one at home this afternoon,’ he said, ‘but my sandwiches will have been left for me – so we can share them in private – if you’ve got long enough.’

‘I’ve got long enough,’ Abigail said.

She had never been inside the house before, and Abigail felt as if she was entering another world. As they went through the richly carpeted hall into the kitchen, she was immediately aware of the rows of bright copper pans hanging above the Aga cooker, of rows and rows of expensive crockery on the tall dresser, of the huge jug of wild flowers placed on one wide window sill, everything shining with fragrant cleanliness. On the opposite side of the room were three full-length windows looking out onto a rolling lawn that seemed to go on for ever.

‘What a beautiful garden, Luke,’ Abigail said, and he nodded.

‘Yes, there’s a lot of it, which keeps the gardener busy,’ he said. ‘And just out of sight there’s a summer house. Not that I’ve sat in it much,’ he added, ‘but my mother seems to like it.’

Abigail turned away, glancing at the scrubbed wooden table on which there was a tray covered with a white cloth, together with a crystal water jug and matching tumbler.

It seemed rude to go on staring, but Abigail couldn’t help it – while thinking what a good job it was that Luke had never been to Coopers, and never would. What ever would he make of their primitive abode, their earthy surroundings?

He pulled out two chairs for them to sit side by side. Then he removed the white cloth to reveal a plate of neatly cut sandwiches which had leaves of moist watercress tucked between the layers, a china dish of chocolate biscuits and a bowl of fruit – apples, bananas and grapes. He grinned down at her.

‘Our lunch,’ he said. ‘I think the sandwiches are ham, so get started while I fetch another tumbler and fill the jug.’ He glanced back at her as he went over to the sink. ‘The housekeeper has taken the day off to visit a cousin who’s not very well,’ he said, ‘but she’ll be back in time to make dinner for when my parents return from London.’

If she had been invited to eat at Buckingham Palace, Abigail couldn’t have felt more honoured to be having her lunch here with Luke. Everything was so special. He was so special.

For the next ten minutes between mouthfuls, they exchanged news of what they’d been doing – though Abigail didn’t have that much to reveal. But Luke kept making her laugh about things that had gone on at school: that there’d been a real fight in the playground, that the usual culprits regularly got the cane for talking in class and that Miss Jones who taught the Infants was leaving next year to get married.

But there was something more important that Abigail wanted to know.

‘And … who is sitting next to you in class now, Luke?’ she asked, and he shrugged.

‘Derek – you remember Derek – but I hardly know him because he doesn’t say anything. Not anything interesting or funny, anyway,’ Luke replied. ‘It’s not the same at school without you, Abigail … I mean, it’s just work and routine now, slightly boring to be honest.’

After a moment, Abigail said, ‘I wish I was coming back there with you, now, this afternoon, Luke,’ and he took her hand in his and looked down at her.

‘You don’t know how much I hate you not being there,’ he said quietly. ‘But at least you’ve found a way to get to the village incognito! That’s a start, isn’t it? When I saw you standing there as I turned the corner, I thought I was dreaming!’ He bent slightly to brush his lips across her cheek. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to escape again? Soon?’

‘I’ll try,’ Abigail murmured, loving the feel of his face against hers, ‘but it can only be on a Thursday when my aunt is here at the market. And I’ll always have to get back before she does.’

‘True love never did run smooth,’ Luke quoted softly. Then he moved their lunch things right away and pulled her in close to him. Then he kissed her and she kissed him back, properly …

Presently, like Cinderella hearing the midnight chime, Abigail heard the clock on the kitchen wall strike one, and she moved away, standing up quickly.

‘I’ll have to go,’ she said. ‘It’ll take me half an hour to get back and I’ve got all those baskets to fill.’

He stood as well, reluctant to let her go. ‘But – you will come here again, soon, won’t you?’ he said.

‘I will do my very best, I promise,’ Abigail said.

Chapter 3

Almost as if she knew something was going on, for the next few weeks Edna announced that she would be returning early from the market on Thursdays. ‘This is always a busy time,’ she’d said. ‘As you know very well, Abigail, all the ground has to be cleared and dug and made ready for spring planting, so I’ll cut it short in the village while there’s still enough light for us to work by.’

So apart from two brief visits to the village just before Christmas, it wasn’t until the following year that Abigail began a routine of seeing Luke for their treasured time together, when Edna stayed all afternoon at the market.

‘I know it’s difficult for you, but I wish you didn’t always have to go back so soon,’ Luke said regretfully. ‘I mean, I could always find some excuse about being late for the afternoon session at school … and I’d love a bit longer for us to be together so that we could, you know, just talk about everything, like we used to.’

He was so right, Abigail had thought. Not only that, but he always held her in the way that only Luke Jordan knew how. Caressing her possessively as if to hold the rest of the world at bay and to tell everyone that she was his, and he was hers. And that nothing would ever change it.

It was one day in early April the following year that Edna imparted the news of the moment – Lillian, the vicar’s sister, was gravely ill.

‘Dear me,’ Edna said as she and Abigail trudged down to the back field with their hoes and buckets. ‘I do hope she recovers soon because she and the vicar have lived together all their lives and it would be so hard for him to do everything without her help and support.’

Abigail nodded. She remembered the vicar’s sister who occasionally came to the school with him when he took morning prayers every Monday. ‘I always thought she looked a very kind lady,’ Abigail said.

‘Hmm,’ Edna said, ‘I’m afraid that’s a false hope – from what I’ve heard. Anyway,’ Edna went on as she started hoeing her row, ‘I shall go to the funeral, of course – which is sure to be a big affair, what with the two of them being so well known in the area.’

‘But she’s not gone yet, Aunt,’ Abigail said. ‘Her brother’s prayers might save her.’

‘Praying does not always do as you want it to,’ Edna retorted. ‘Or, rather, the word “No” is often the answer. Anyway, nothing we can do about it,’ she went on as she continued with what she was doing. ‘But at least I’ve got my black outfit ready to wear – the stuff I had to buy for your father’s funeral, if you remember.’

But of course Abigail remembered Dada’s funeral, and seeing Edna in her long black skirt and top, with a tiny little skull cap on her head … Goodness knows where she’d managed to find that, Abigail had thought at the time.

Two Thursdays later, Abigail repeated the heart-tightening operation of getting to and from the village unseen, but this time she had news for Luke.

Next Friday, the 1st of May at 4.30 p.m., Lillian’s funeral was to take place and there would be a large gathering of faithful parishioners attending, invited to take tea and cake in the church hall afterwards. Edna was going to be there and did not expect to return to Coopers until perhaps seven o’clock.

‘No one goes to a funeral by pony and trap!’ she’d said, when Abigail had posed the question.

So on that Thursday when Abigail saw Luke coming towards her, she almost threw herself into his arms with the news. ‘I can’t believe it, Luke,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I have never known my aunt to be away from Coopers for that length of time! We shall have at least two hours … two whole hours … just to be together.’

Luke put his arm around Abigail’s waist. ‘And guess what?’ he said. ‘Not only is the housekeeper also going to the funeral, but my parents are in London that evening and won’t be home until next morning!’ He held her to him tightly. ‘We shall have Mulberry Court to ourselves without interruption!’

When that special Friday in 1936 dawned, the weather was surprisingly warm for so early in May. And although the passing of the vicar’s sister had little to do with them, Edna went about her usual duties with a very solemn look on her face, barely saying a word to Abigail but every now and then repeating, ‘Dear, dear. God rest her soul.’

And despite feeling genuinely sorry about Lilian’s death, Abigail could barely stop smiling. In just a few hours, she and Luke were going to be together. And this time with no urgent rush for her to get home – though she’d have to make sure she reached Coopers well before her aunt returned from the funeral tea.

Just after three o’clock, Edna came down the stairs in her mourning attire, and Abigail glanced up in surprise. Her aunt looked quite respectable out of her working clothes. She also seemed to have taken some trouble doing her hair, and the little skull cap perched on top looked quite nice … nicer than Abigail remembered it the last time it had been worn.

‘You look very smart, Aunt,’ Abigail said, and Edna pursed her lips.

‘How I look is hardly the point of today,’ she said, but Abigail knew the remark had pleased her aunt. ‘One thing I am grateful for is that it’s not raining,’ Edna went on, ‘because it’s unpleasant walking to and from the village when it’s wet.’

Abigail would love to have retorted – ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ But she resisted the temptation. Her aunt was in a good mood, and obviously looking forward to her unusual afternoon out.

Keeping an anxious eye on the little clock on the shelf, Abigail saw that it was quarter to four. Enough time had passed since her aunt had left, and Abigail knew she could get to the village in twenty minutes. By that time all the mourners would be safely in church and out of the way. The coast would be clear.

Wearing the only pretty, flowery cotton skirt she possessed, and the pale blue top that went with it, plus her shawl loosely around her shoulders as usual, Abigail left Coopers and walked to the village. When she arrived it was eerily quiet and practically deserted. The curtains of any dwelling she passed were drawn tightly shut, the sultry warmth of the afternoon seeming to add to the sombre atmosphere.

But Abigail wasn’t sombre – she was almost deliriously happy – and when she saw Luke waiting for her by the gate of Mulberry Court, his face wreathed in smiles, she automatically broke into a run to meet him. He ran forward, drawing her into his arms and closing his lips over hers.

‘You look lovely,’ he murmured.

She smiled up at him. Well, she had taken trouble to do her hair which was floating loose around her shoulders.

Then, with their arms around each other’s waists, they walked slowly up the drive and into the house.

Luke nodded towards a plate of fancy cakes on the kitchen table. ‘The housekeeper didn’t want me to starve before she got back,’ he said, ‘and as you can see, there are plenty for the two of us.’ He pulled out the two chairs. ‘Shall I make us a pot of tea – or would you prefer something cold? There’s a bottle of pop waiting to be opened.’

Abigail took the chair offered and gazed up at him. He was wearing light, casual trousers and an open-necked, dark brown shirt, and his hair – with its usual wayward lock falling carelessly across his forehead – glinted and shone like polished ebony.

‘I’d like a glass of pop, please, Luke,’ she said.

He grinned. ‘Yeah. Me too.’

Abigail half-smiled as she watched him. When they were together on those precious Thursdays, they always had so much to say in such a short time that their words would often tumble over each other, but now, today, they weren’t saying much at all. Just revelling in being together, with no anxiety that she would be found out.

Abigail broke the silence. ‘My aunt made a real effort to look the part for the funeral … she was a perfect vision dressed in black!’

‘Good for her,’ Luke said. ‘Keeping up appearances, then.’

‘It was quite something for her to get scrubbed up like that,’ Abigail admitted, ‘so perhaps she harbours a secret wish to be someone else, after all.’ Abigail paused. ‘We all have secret wishes, don’t we, Luke?’

There was silence for a few moments, then he said, ‘By the way, all the formal papers came yesterday about my college course – and, unusually, it’s not going to start until November this year, which is rather late.’ He glanced across. ‘But until then at least I’ll be home here for us to see each other – if and when we get the chance,’ he added.

Abigail didn’t say anything for a moment. The thought of Luke – her Luke – moving right away was something she didn’t want to think about. No more occasional Thursdays to look forward to. No more anything to look forward to. ‘Will you be in London?’ she asked, and he nodded.

‘I think the course starts there, but they apparently send students all over the place to other colleges from time to time during the whole procedure,’ he said. ‘A sort of movable feast, by the sound of it, which I hope I’m going to enjoy but I probably won’t.’ He glanced down and saw that her eyes had filled with tears.

‘Come on,’ he said lightly. ‘Don’t be sad, because that last cake is yours.’ But Abigail shook her head.

‘No thanks – you have it, Luke,’ she said, cross with herself at feeling so terrible that he would be going away at the end of the year. After all, she’d always known that he would be furthering his education far, far away from this inauspicious village. But to be reminded that the time was fast approaching was painful. She stood up suddenly, picking up the empty plate and their glasses.

‘It’s such a perfect afternoon, Luke,’ she said, trying to sound upbeat. ‘I would love to look around the garden.’ She glanced out of the window at the vast rolling lawn. ‘We don’t go in for much decorative planting at Coopers. There is never any room for things which do not produce food to sell,’ she added ruefully.

They cleared up the tea things, then, hand in hand, they left the kitchen and began wandering along the grassy paths of the garden which seemed to go in every direction, Abigail stopping every now and then to inspect something which particularly took her fancy.

Out of sight of the house, they took a left turn and Luke said, ‘Behold – the rose walk! My mother’s particular interest.’

Abigail stared. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Numerous arches stood at regular intervals down the long path, all festooned with trailing foliage. Most of the flowers were still in tight bud but one or two were already opening their fragrant faces to the sunshine.

‘How absolutely beautiful,’ Abigail said, and Luke looked down.

‘I was thinking the same thing,’ he said, gazing at her.

Abigail blushed, and still holding hands they wandered past the rose trail and almost immediately came to the summer house Luke had mentioned the other day. Without saying another word, Luke reached into his pocket for his bunch of keys. Then he moved forward and opened the door.

‘Come on, it’s been all aired and freshened up for the summer,’ he said, ‘so we might as well have a sit down for a few minutes and admire the view from inside.’

Going in first, Luke immediately went over to the canvas garden chairs which were stacked neatly against one wall. Setting two of them up, he pushed one towards Abigail before sitting down on the one next to her.

Putting her head back and half-closing her eyes, Abigail said, ‘I may fall asleep in a minute – so I hope you won’t mind.’

‘You’re hardly likely to fall asleep sitting up like that,’ Luke said. ‘Oh, I know.’ Then he got up and went over to the other side of the room, bringing back a striped sun lounger which he opened up in front of her. ‘Here, try this for size,’ he said. ‘It’s actually quite comfortable.’

Abigail did as he suggested, then lay back outstretched, and sighed contentedly as she felt the gentle breeze from the open door begin to fan her face. ‘This is heavenly,’ she murmured, turning to look at him, ‘but I feel really mean having the only bed.’

Without any hesitation he got up. ‘Move over a bit, then,’ he said.

Then he stretched out beside her, and soon they were entwined in each other’s arms.

‘This seems the perfect moment for me to make something absolutely clear to you, Abigail Wilson,’ Luke said softly. ‘Because I promise you now, that when I am earning enough money to support you, I shall arrive at Coopers and snatch you away from your aunt for ever.’

Abigail turned to gaze into his eyes. If only that could be true. But the chances of Luke Jordan being able to escape the charms of other women were slight because he was simply irresistible. And he was going to be away, he’d said, for three or four years. What hope did she have when she wouldn’t even be there to compete with the attractive women he was bound to spend time with?

He raised himself on one elbow and gazed down at her. ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’ he said, and she smiled up at him, her eyes moist.

‘I believe you, Luke,’ she said, though she was really thinking, I want to believe you, Luke.

Then his lips closed over hers, more urgently this time, and Abigail responded readily as his hands began to trace her soft curves beneath her clothes. And then, without any sense of shame, she helped him undress her. It sent her pulse racing and her heart soaring.

‘I love you, Abigail,’ he whispered, ‘and I will never love anyone else, ever. I give you my word.’

Cruelly, fate decreed that for the rest of that month Abigail could only get to the village once to see Luke. But it had been worth it because, without either of them putting it into words, their relationship had changed. Now, the sense that they really belonged to each other filled them with a warmth which was different from anything they’d felt before.

But it wasn’t until the middle of July that Abigail realised the plight she was in.

Getting out of bed, she drew back the curtains and stared out at the familiar scene. The scene that never changed. But something else had changed. Something had changed in her.

Standing back, she placed her hands lightly over her tummy, feeling for something, anything. How did you feel the tiny beginnings of a baby? Having seen the goats giving birth to their kids many times, and from everything she’d read in her books, Abigail had a good idea about reproduction, and she knew that it took nine months for a human baby to emerge into the world. But how did you look – and what did you feel – during those months?

Well, how was she to know? All she did know was that she’d missed last month and was late for this one – the first time ever. And the realisation filled Abigail with absolute terror. Because when her aunt was told, Abigail would be thrown out of Coopers and she’d have nowhere to live and nowhere to go.

And that was why she would have to tell Luke, soon. She would go tomorrow, Thursday, and break the news. He would find ways to look after her and their baby because he would never leave her to face this by herself, she knew he wouldn’t.

‘Can I help you?’ A man’s gruff voice from behind the hedge at Mulberry Court made Abigail look up, startled.

‘Oh no – thank you,’ she replied quickly. ‘I’m just waiting for someone – waiting for Luke Jordan. He should be home in a minute.’

Coming into full view, the man stared at her over the gate. ‘Well, you’re going to be disappointed, luvver,’ he said. ‘The Jordans don’t live here anymore.’

Abigail’s mouth dropped in surprise. ‘What … what do you mean?’ she said. ‘Where are they living now?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m only the gardener keeping the place tidy until the owners take up residence,’ he said, ‘but what I was told was that the Jordans had gone back to London and then someone said the lady and the young lad have gone to France for a few months – where they’ve got a place in the south, so I believe.’ The man made a face. ‘A’wight for some, innit – but the lady hadn’t been too well, so I heard.’

Feeling as if the ground beneath her was going to melt away and suck her down and down, Abigail just stood for a moment trying to take in this terrible news.

‘Well, thank you,’ she said faintly, turning to go.

As she retraced her steps along the road and past the school, keeping well away from the market, Abigail tried desperately to let the news she’d just been given sink in. Luke had obviously left school a couple of weeks before the end of term to accompany his mother – so now he was further away from Abigail than he’d ever been. He was never to know that they were to have a baby … and they would never see each other again.

Stopping for a moment to regain her breath, Abigail paused in her thoughts. Her first impulse, her first instinct, had been to tell Luke – but now she wasn’t so sure. Would he mind that she was pregnant? Anyway, how could he be a proper father to their baby when he was away at college – and what on earth would his parents think when they found out? They would surely be angry at the situation and the last thing Abigail wanted was to do anything to harm Luke – to harm his chances of graduating and fulfilling the career which had been decided for him.

Abigail put her hand to her mouth, tormented by sudden guilt. Why hadn’t she stopped to think what this news would undoubtedly mean to Luke? She knew that he loved her – he’d said so over and over again – but he was in no position to provide a home for her … not yet! It wasn’t the right time for them. It was too soon!

Abigail straightened her shoulders defiantly, even though her heart was at breaking point. She was going to have this baby – she was going to love this baby – and conquer whatever troubles lay ahead.

And telling her aunt was going to be the first hurdle.

That thought made Abigail pause, holding her sides for a second. Well, hadn’t Luke told her that she was bright and clever and funny and that if she really wanted something, it was up to her? That if she was determined enough, she could change her life to however she wanted it to be?

Well, one day, Abigail would prove his words.

But she would never see the long letter he had addressed to her because it had slipped from the postal tray on the hall table and had become trapped, right out of sight, under a corner of the sturdy cabinet alongside.

Chapter 4
June 1939

‘Come on, Emily, it’s time to wake up,’ Abigail said softly. ‘The chickens want their breakfast, and there will be lots of eggs for you to collect.’

Emily sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning, and Abigail hugged her tightly, the endearing scent of her little girl’s warm body filling her with the usual enchantment.

It was six o’clock, and Abigail quickly got herself dressed, then helped Emily button up her liberty bodice and put on her frock. Presently they went downstairs where Edna was stirring the porridge. She barely looked up as they entered, merely nodding a greeting, and soon they were all sitting at the table to begin their breakfast.

Abigail was about to drop her bombshell. It was not going to be easy to break the news to her aunt, but it had to be today, Wednesday, because tomorrow was market day and Edna would have the best chance of acquiring extra help. And then it would be Friday – the very last one in which Abigail and her daughter would wake up at Coopers. And the first one of their new lives.

They ate in comparative silence until Edna said, without looking up, ‘The back field must be cleared this morning because all the vegetables are just right for market – you can pack them in those new boxes I managed to buy cheap last week.’

It was the peremptory tone, the familiar, terse instruction that gave Abigail the courage to speak out. She turned to look down at Emily who had finished the last of her porridge and was sitting quietly swinging her legs. Young as she was, she’d learned how to read the situation, whether it was better to keep quiet rather than chatter endlessly to her mother as she usually did.

Abigail smiled down at her. ‘You go and collect the eggs, now, darling,’ she said, ‘because I want to talk to Aunt Edna for a moment.’

‘Goody goody,’ Emily said, jumping down from her chair. She loved putting her hands into the warm straw to find the eggs. It was her favourite job.

‘And mind you don’t break any,’ Edna said to Emily’s departing back, ‘like you did last week.’

That was all that Abigail needed; she turned to look straight at her aunt.

‘I have something very important to say to you, Aunt,’ she said firmly, as Edna stood up to collect their three dishes.

‘Oh? Well, hurry up about it because there’s a lot to do this morning.’

Abigail didn’t beat about the bush. ‘You need to know that Emily and I are leaving Coopers on Friday,’ she said quietly, ‘and we won’t be coming back.’

That stopped Edna in her tracks, and she stared at Abigail. After a long silence, she said, ‘What ever are you talking about? And where on earth do you think you’re going?’

‘We are going to seek a new life, Aunt, where I can show my daughter that there is something other than this. Where we can be happy. Where she can grow up among other people and find out about things, do things. And where she will have friends … friends to play with.’

‘Oh, really?’ Edna said sarcastically. ‘And how are you going to achieve all that? You have no money, no experience of the outside world that you seem so anxious to be part of. You’ll never make anything of yourself out there because what have you got to offer? And your daughter will be nothing but a millstone around your neck, I can promise you that! And I should know – personal experience taught me a hard lesson!’

Abigail bit back the retort that was forming on her lips, but said patiently, ‘Emily and I will make our way together, come what may, Aunt. And I do have a little money – enough to see us through until I find myself work.’

Leaning forward with both fists on the table, Edna’s eyes narrowed. ‘Oh? And where did you get that money from?’

‘It was what Dada gave me on each of my birthdays,’ Abigail said calmly. ‘And he impressed on me that I should save it because I was sure to need it one day.’

For a moment, Edna said nothing. ‘And I suppose you’re going to seek your fortune in one of the towns along the way?’

‘No – I thought we might try our luck somewhere bigger … perhaps Bristol,’ Abigail said, ‘where there are more opportunities.’

‘Bristol? But what work do you intend looking for? What experience have you had other than what you’ve learned here?’

‘I don’t care what it turns out to be,’ Abigail said quickly, ‘but it will be one for which I shall be paid money. And you’re right, Aunt, I’ve learned many things which will be of use to someone who will pay me to do them.’ Abigail swallowed. ‘I have worked hard at Coopers, all my life, long days, long hours, and you have never given me a single penny to call my own.’

‘Ha!’ Edna said. ‘Well, I have given you a roof over your head and food in your belly and clothes on your back – and now the same for the child! That is surely payment enough, isn’t it?’

Abigail let a moment pass. ‘And I will always be grateful, Aunt, but you have trapped me like a bird in a cage. And every bird eventually wants freedom … even if it’s far worse outside. Birds have to fly, need to fly … I have to fly! And I’m going to make sure that Emily, too, will escape to spread her wings.’ Abigail pressed her lips together before going on. ‘My daughter is going to live her life without shame. Everyone is going to know that there are just the two of us, that there have always been just the two of us. And I am going to teach my little girl to hold her head up and face the world with courage.’

Edna stood back. ‘Well, I think you’re absolutely mad and you’re turning out just like your father!’ She folded her arms. ‘My brother was always a dreamer, and he only volunteered to serve in that war because he thought it would be more exciting than staying here, and what did it do for him? It killed him! Oh, he came home, eventually, but not the strong, healthy lad he’d always been. If he’d listened to me, he’d be here now, today, instead of lying up there in the churchyard, no use to anybody.’

Those bitter words hit Abigail like a hammer blow, and she stood up defiantly. ‘Whatever Dada did, he would have done it because he thought it was right,’ she said. ‘You can think of it differently, but Dada and I talked to each other, and he told me the things he believed in.’ Abigail choked back her tears. ‘He told me that by volunteering he’d thought he could help. That it had been his duty.’

‘Well then, let’s talk about duty!’ Edna spat out. ‘Your duty to me and the fact that you have always had a home here and enough of everything and—’

‘But it was also Dada’s home, wasn’t it,’ Abigail interrupted, ‘and he would have expected me to live here for as long as I needed to.’

Edna pursed her lips. She could see that Abigail had made up her mind. ‘And have you given any thought as to how I am going to manage here on my own?’ she said coldly.

‘Yes, I have, Aunt,’ Abigail said, ‘Tomorrow is market day, the perfect opportunity for you to find anyone looking for work, and there will be plenty of choice.’ That was true. Thursdays always drew people to the village in large numbers, selling or buying produce, or those seeking temporary or permanent employment in the fields or on the farms. ‘Of course, you will have to pay them,’ Abigail went on, ‘but perhaps you could employ two youngsters, instead of an adult. That would be cheaper because children will agree to work hard for very little.’ Abigail had often heard older boys in the playground talking of work they’d done at the weekends for which they were never paid more than a few pennies or a shilling.

Edna shook her head in silent disbelief. Then, slowly – ‘Have you any idea, any idea at all,’ she said, ‘as to what is going to face the pair of you? You are going to be homeless! And at a time when the country will soon be at war again! War, Abigail! Nothing is going to stop it now! Did you consider that when you decided to go and live in an industrial city?’

Abigail shrugged briefly. How could she have considered something she was ignorant of? Very little news of any kind found its way to Coopers. ‘I am sure that Emily and I are going to be all right, Aunt,’ she said. ‘And whatever happens, we’ll find a way to look after ourselves.’

Just then, Emily trotted back in and went straight over to her mother. ‘I’ve put all the eggs into the little boxes and the chickens were very pleased to see me.’ She smiled up at Abigail. ‘Can we give them their breakfast now?’

‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do,’ Abigail said, ‘and then there are all those vegetables to be dug up, so there’s no time to waste.’ She looked across at Edna who remained stony-faced. ‘Just give me a list, Aunt, of anything more you need us to do, and of course, Emily and I will be here tomorrow as well, to do everything as usual. I wouldn’t want to leave too much for the new helper, or helpers to tackle. It will take them a little time to get used to everything.’ To get used to you, Abigail would like to have said.

Early on Friday morning Abigail woke with a start. She hadn’t slept well, her mind going over and over her plans, trying to reassure herself that the massive step she was taking was the right one for them. She’d nearly gone mad asking herself that question, but how did anyone know if a huge change in their life was taking place at the right time? Surely, in the end it had to be a matter of trusting your instincts?

Yet with every doubt that crept into her mind, Abigail could hear her father’s reassuring voice telling her to always have faith in herself. ‘In the end, we must all stand up for what we believe in,’ he’d said gently, ‘With determination – and a little bit of luck thrown in – you can change things in your life if you really want to. Remember that, Abigail.’

Thinking about those words now, Abigail realised that it must surely have been his wish that one day she should strike out on her own. And that thought made her heart soar with optimism. She knew she had the determination.

All she and her tiny daughter needed was the little bit of luck …

At that moment, Emily sat up, immediately wide awake. ‘We’re going on a big puffer train today, Mummy, aren’t we?’ she said eagerly. ‘And we’re taking dolly with us, aren’t we?’

‘Of course we are!’ Abigail exclaimed. ‘I’ve packed all our clothes, and there are bags to carry. They’re not very heavy.’

And how could the bags be heavy when they had so few possessions? They had just two basic sets of clothes each – most of which Abigail had made herself with various pieces of material or wool which Edna would only bring back from the market when Abigail had insisted that either she, or Emily, really had to have another cardigan or skirt, or to replace some underwear that wouldn’t survive another wash. As for shoes, Emily had always worn little canvas daps easily available at the market stall, while Abigail, after her school shoes had finally become too small, wore the same steel-tipped clogs as Edna and many others who worked on the land did. Reasonably comfortable, clogs were strong and reliable and never wore out.

Emily clambered out of bed and started getting herself dressed. She’d already reached the point when she refused to have any help. ‘Is Aunt coming with us, Mummy?’

‘No – no, of course not,’ Abigail said. ‘This is just our adventure – yours and mine. I told you that yesterday, didn’t I?’ She pulled back the curtains. ‘Look, it’s another lovely day, and after breakfast we’re going on quite a long walk across the fields.’

‘But I can collect the eggs first, can’t I?’ Emily said, sitting down on the floor to pull on her daps. ‘There’ll be time for me to do that, won’t there?’

Abigail smiled quickly. ‘Yes, and after we’ve had our wash in the scullery, I shall tidy up the kitchen, and milk the goats,’ she said. ‘One last time.’

Downstairs Edna was nowhere to be seen, but, as usual, the porridge in the large saucepan on the range was ready to eat, and Abigail went over to fill their two bowls. ‘Perhaps we should have a second helping today, Emily,’ she said, ‘so that we won’t feel hungry on our journey.’

‘Can I have some honey on mine?’ Emily whispered, darting a glance at the door in case Aunt suddenly appeared. Edna didn’t see the need for sweet stuff and rarely bought any sugar, insisting that the honey from their own bees was sufficient. ‘I don’t really like porridge without honey,’ Emily said.

‘No, and neither do I,’ Abigail agreed, reaching into the cupboard for a jar. And just then Edna came in from outside and looked down at them.

‘So, you’re enjoying your “Last Supper” are you? Well, I hope wherever you’re going that they feed you properly. And with the same good food you’ve enjoyed all your lives.’ Then, to Abigail’s surprise, her aunt took a spoon to put some honey into Emily’s porridge.

‘Thank you, Aunt,’ Abigail said quietly. ‘And Emily would like to collect the eggs before we go – and shall I milk the goats?’

‘No need,’ Edna said shortly. ‘I’ve done both, so you can run along whenever you’re ready to go. I’ve got two young lads taking over from you, starting this morning at eleven. I’ve taken them on for the next two weeks to start with, and if they turn out to be suitable, I’ve said they’d be able to stay longer. I’ll have to see whether they know what hard work really means. Their hours will be seven in the morning until seven at night when they will go home. Of course, they’ll have to stay longer when it’s fruit picking – I’ve told them that.’

After breakfast, Abigail collected their things from upstairs, then went down to find Emily sitting on the doorstep, waiting. She stood up, patting the front of her dress. ‘Look – dolly always likes sitting in my pocket!’

Abigail smiled. The small doll had been one of the first things, perhaps the very first thing, that Dada had given her all those years ago. ‘Well, she is a very tiny dolly, isn’t she, and she does look very comfy there.’

Just then, Edna came through, carrying a small string bag. ‘Goodness knows when and where you’re going to find anything to eat,’ she said, ‘so there are sandwiches and a bottle of my elderflower cordial in this. I hope it’s not too heavy.’ She handed the bag to Abigail. ‘Now, you’d better be off because those lads are due in a few minutes.’

Abigail was almost dumbstruck. That was the first time she could remember her aunt showing any concern, for her niece or her great-niece. For a second, Abigail wanted to put her arms around Edna’s neck and hug her, but thought better of it. Edna would not have appreciated it. Instead, Abigail said, ‘Thank you so much, Aunt.’

Edna merely nodded before going back outside.

Then Abigail, holding Emily’s hand in hers, walked down the front path and away from Coopers for the last time. And with her heart full of hope and anxiety, Abigail whispered under her breath, ‘I promised you I would escape one day, Luke, but I wish you were here with me. And I wish you knew about your daughter. Our little girl …’

Abigail decided to skirt the village rather than go through it, in case they were recognised. She didn’t want to be stopped by any locals and questioned about who Emily was. This wasn’t the time for explanations.

After half an hour walking, they stopped under the shade of a sycamore tree and Emily said, ‘Can I have a drink now, Mummy?’

Abigail opened the string bag and unscrewed the lid of the bottle of elderflower. ‘Here you are, but don’t drink it all. Save a bit for later – until I can buy us something else.’

‘But where are we going now?’ Emily said. ‘Aren’t we going to get on a puffer train?’

‘We are,’ Abigail said patiently, ‘and we’ve seen those huge clouds of steam in the distance already, haven’t we? But there’s just a little further to walk before we reach the station.’ She smiled down. Emily’s sturdy little legs seemed to be having no difficulty in making the journey across the fields. She’d refused Abigail’s offer that she should be carried for a few minutes.

Abigail had decided that they wouldn’t get on the train in the village, but would walk to the Halt a short way up the line, then take the smaller train going to the main branch. Then, finally, they’d be on their way to Bristol.

Lying back with her eyes half-closed, Abigail let her memory take her to all the times she’d spent with Luke … especially those magic Thursday afternoons she’d managed to get to the village to be with him, more often taking their sandwiches to one of the more isolated corners he’d discovered rather than to Mulberry Court, because the housekeeper was usually there. And, held closely in each other’s arms, they’d talk about anything and everything. Well, there was nothing Luke didn’t know because he and his family had travelled all over the place, and it was Luke who’d explained how the trains worked, and that from here the biggest cities were London in one direction and Bristol in the other.

‘London is much bigger than Bristol,’ he’d informed her. ‘In fact, it’s huge. I know London well because we’ve lived there most of my life, but I’ve only been to Bristol a few times. My father was at university there – perhaps that’s where I’ll end up,’ he’d added.

Now, they heard a train whistle and Emily clapped her hands excitedly.

‘Is that our puffer?’ she said. ‘Are we nearly there?’

‘I think so,’ Abigail replied, and almost at once they could see the railway line, like a long brown snake, appearing in the distance, the noise of the approaching engine getting louder. Hurrying their steps now, she glanced down, remembering that her little daughter had never been anywhere near a station, nor had she seen many people. The only visitors who’d come to the cottage had been the gypsies, the vicar or the occasional itinerant salesman – who was soon seen off by Edna. Abigail bit her lip. Emily had such a lot ahead of her.

‘I’ve told you that trains make a terrible noise, haven’t I, Emily?’ she said. ‘So when we get to the station you won’t be afraid, will you?’

‘I’m not afraid!’ Emily replied. ‘I’m not, Mummy!’

Presently, they stood on the platform watching the train pull in at the Halt. There were few other passengers around, and as they alighted they found a compartment all to themselves. As Emily clambered up on to her seat, Abigail said, ‘Well, I think this might be the time to eat our picnic now, Emily.’ She unwrapped the honey and cheese sandwiches, and, with Emily sitting beside her looking at one of her books, Abigail tried to relax, tried not to let any nagging worries spoil the day. They’d taken the first huge step, but was the money she had going to be enough? Exactly how much was she going to need when they got to Bristol – and was it going to be as easy as she’d thought to find work to support them both? Not to mention the fact that she had no idea where they might be sleeping tonight.

Resting her head against the soft back of the seat, Abigail checked that the small, secret leather purse she’d stitched securely into the lining of her bolero was there resting against her heart. And that everything in the strong canvas holdall – her pens and paper, and especially Dada’s war drawings in the wax packet – was protected. His pictures had come through so much already, she was going to look after them until the day she died. Abigail’s heart swelled with love as she thought of her gentle dada and all that he’d gone through.

Abigail allowed herself a small pat on the back that, so far, this momentous day seemed to be going well. They had escaped and they were on their way.

Arriving at the branch line, they got off the small train and went across to the ticket office. ‘One and a half to Bristol, please,’ she said, holding out her money. The desk clerk glanced up.

‘Single or return?’

‘Oh … oh single, please,’ she said quickly. Then, as the man took her coins – ‘We are not coming back, you see. We are never coming back,’ she added.

He looked up curiously at the beautiful young woman standing there in front of him, with the tiny youngster beside her.

‘Well, good luck,’ he said cheerfully.

‘Thank you,’ Abigail said, putting the tickets into her purse. ‘I expect we are going to need it.’

Chapter 5

It had been a long journey, the train stopping at every station before finally pulling in at Bristol. Abigail stood up and went into the corridor to stare out of the window.

‘Bristol Temple Meads!’ the guard called out, then the doors were thrust open, all the passengers spilling out onto the platform and making for the exits.

For much of the time, Emily had been fast asleep in her corner of the carriage, and Abigail went back to wake her up.

‘Come on, Emily,’ she said gently. ‘We have to get off the train now.’

Emily stirred, blinking her eyes, but immediately got down from her seat. ‘Have I been asleep a long time?’

‘Quite a long time,’ Abigail replied, ‘so you will be nice and fresh to set off on the next step of our adventure! We must find somewhere to stay tonight, mustn’t we? But first we will have something to eat.’ Abigail had seen the restaurant sign on the platform as they’d pulled in, and now she was suddenly dying for a cup of tea. ‘Are you hungry, Emily?’

‘Yes – and can I have some chips?’

Abigail retrieved their belongings from the rack above their heads, then helped Emily get off the train. And as they stepped onto the platform, the noise, the shouting, the hissing from the engine, the guard’s whistle, the hubbub with everyone rushing about was frightening. Abigail pulled Emily towards her.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ Abigail said. ‘We’ll soon be getting away from here.’

‘I’m not afraid,’ Emily said, ‘but can we have chips soon? I’m hungry, and so is dolly.’

The restaurant was a huge room and it was fairly busy, but there were several vacant tables and Abigail led Emily over to one in the corner. ‘You sit here and look after the bags, Emily, and I will go to the counter and order our food,’ she said. ‘I won’t be long. You can see where I am.’

The queue of people waiting to be served was not long, and soon it was Abigail’s turn. The woman behind the counter looked down, a half-smile on her lips. She’d seen these two come in a few minutes ago and admitted to being curious. Well, the little child was quite cute, and the woman very beautiful – but who would wear clogs in this weather! Those things clattering along the floor had made everyone look up. ‘What can I get you?’ she said pleasantly.

‘A pot of tea and a glass of milk, and some chips? Two plates please,’ Abigail said, already opening her purse.

‘Oh no chips left, I’m afraid,’ the woman said, ‘and we won’t be frying any more tonight. But we’ve got sandwiches, and beans on toast or eggs on toast – and, oh yes, there are some sausages left.’

Abigail’s heart sank. Emily was an easy child to please, but she’d specially asked for chips, her favourite food, and she’d been so good all day. Abigail, too, had imagined the pleasure of dipping a few chips into some salt … sometimes potato chips were the only things that would immediately satisfy the pangs of hunger.

She shrugged. ‘Oh, well, four sausages, please, and some bread – and two packets of those biscuits?’

The woman began preparing their order, and without looking up she said, ‘Your little sister is very much like you, isn’t she?’

And it was true. Apart from the difference in the colour of their hair, they both had the same heart-shaped face, the same tip-tilted nose, the same appealing expression in their wide green eyes.

Without a beat, Abigail said, ‘Oh – Emily is not my sister – she’s my daughter.’ Well, Abigail had been determined that from the outset everyone was going to know the situation. That was how it was going to be from now on.

The woman’s brief smile disappeared, and, tight-lipped, she almost slapped the order down on the counter. Her daughter, had she said? Huh! And no ring, so obviously not married! Disgusting! Young girls like her were no better than sluts!

Abigail paid the bill – which she’d noted from the list above the counter that she had enough money for, then took their tray of food across to Emily. ‘Sorry, darling – they didn’t have any chips,’ she said.

Emily’s face fell. ‘No chips? Oh but – I wanted chips! I’m so hungry!’ And to Abigail’s surprise, her little daughter burst into a flood of tears.

‘Shhh, Emily,’ Abigail said, glancing around. ‘Don’t make a fuss, there’s a good girl. I promise we’ll get some chips tomorrow.’

‘But I want some now!’ Emily wailed. ‘Why can’t we have them?’

‘Because they’re all gone,’ Abigail said, drawing Emily onto her lap.

‘Well then, I wish we were back at Coopers where you would cook me some chips,’ Emily said, pushing the plate of sausages away so crossly it nearly fell on the floor. She buried her head into Abigail’s shoulder. ‘You would have made me some chips. I’m hungry and I’m tired and I wish we were going to be sleeping in our own bed tonight.’

To her own consternation, Abigail realised that without much trouble she could have shed a tear of her own. It had been a long day and a long journey, and she had no idea where they would be sleeping tonight.

What had she done, jumping into the unknown like this? She’d been so certain that it was the right thing, the thing she’d wanted to do for so long. Yet it had taken a silly little incident to make her feel unsettled and unsafe.

She took out her handkerchief to dab briefly at her eyes which had begun to mist, and Emily looked up. ‘Are you crying, too? Do you wish we were back home?’

Abigail shook her head. ‘No, I do not, Emily,’ she said firmly. ‘We shall soon find another home where we will be just as comfy, I promise you.’

From her seat a few tables along, Eileen Matthews couldn’t help being aware of the small drama taking place over there in the corner. Earlier, she had seen them enter the restaurant – the young woman and the very small child – and it had been hard not to stare because there was something about them that made you look twice. The woman was attractive – no, beautiful – and the little girl was picture-perfect. They only had bags with them, not cases, so perhaps they hadn’t got off the train but were waiting here for someone.

Eileen was about to get up and ask if she could help when, just then, two men came over and each pulled up a chair to sit down next to the young woman and the child. And it seemed obvious that these must be the men who’d been expected because the young woman looked up, raising her eyes, and they all began talking. Then one of the men got up, said something to the woman, and went over to the counter, ruffling the child’s hair as he went past.

Eileen turned away, glancing at her watch. Carrie – her closest and best friend since school days – would be here any minute, then they would go to The Royal Hotel for their supper. They sometimes did this on a Friday evening, even if Mark, Carrie’s boyfriend, was on leave. Mark, a dedicated soldier, having joined up as soon as he’d been old enough, was already working his way up the ranks. Tall, with tousled fair hair and a generous, warm-hearted smile, he’d always been aware of the close friendship between Carrie and Eileen, and sometimes, when he was home, he would join them for their Friday supper.

Eileen smiled as she thought about tonight, knowing that Carrie would be sure to order the same thing – crisp whitebait followed by fillet of pork with mushrooms, while Eileen’s preference was prawn cocktail and steak, medium rare.

Now, stifling a yawn, she glanced at the door again. Carrie had been seeing Mark off on another platform – he’d had a forty-eight-hour leave – and it had been agreed that Eileen would wait for her here in the station restaurant.

Carrie Waters hurried along the platform, threading her way through all the passengers waiting for their train. She pushed open the door to the restaurant and, upon seeing her, Eileen immediately stood up and came over to join her.

‘Hello Carrie,’ she said. ‘Did Mark catch his train OK?’

‘It was ten minutes late,’ Carrie said as they left the restaurant, ‘but he got a good seat. Sorry to have kept you waiting.’

Carrie was quite short and on the plump side, her bronze hair cut into a neat bob framing a sweet face, while Eileen was tall and slender, with long, dark hair, her open face dominated by thoughtful grey eyes.

‘Oh, I didn’t mind waiting,’ Eileen said at once. ‘I’ve been people-watching and a really attractive young woman and small child were sitting a few tables along. They were rather unusual, and I thought they were on their own and seemed to be a bit … well, upset … and I was going to go over and speak to them, but then a couple of lads arrived who obviously knew them.’

‘Oh well, that was all right, then,’ Carrie said, linking her arm with Eileen’s as they walked along. ‘No need for Eileen Matthews to do another of her good deeds for the day.’

‘What you really mean,’ Eileen said, ‘is that there was no need for Eileen Matthews to be her usual bossy self.’

‘If you say so,’ Carrie said, ‘but everyone loves you, Eileen, especially when you’re bossy.’ She smiled. ‘Talking of love – has that bloke at work made any more advances?’

Eileen snorted. ‘If you can call leaving me a note and a large eating apple on my desk an “advance”, then yes. But I thought apples were treats for horses! I’d rather he’d left me a bar of Cadbury’s.’

Carrie couldn’t help laughing. ‘But you’re the problem, Eileen. You’re too hard to please! I suppose someone will arrive eventually and steal your heart.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ Eileen said airily. ‘Or perhaps my lot in life will be to help you look after all the children you and Mark are going to have.’

‘And you would be my first choice as super nanny, Eileen,’ Carrie said. ‘But all that is a very long way off. I think it’s going to be ages before you walk behind me to the altar as a bridesmaid.’

In the restaurant, the man who’d remained at the table leaned forward and grinned at Abigail. ‘So, you say you don’t know Bristol very well,’ he said.

Abigail looked at him uncertainly, disliking the smell of cigarette smoke on his breath. ‘No, this is our first time here,’ she said, ‘but we hope to make it our home … we’ve always lived in Somerset. Of course, we don’t know anyone at all yet, so it’s going to be exciting finding our way around a big city by ourselves.’ The man seemed friendly enough, Abigail thought, which was cheering.

The man nodded, glancing at Emily. ‘And who’s this? Your sister? She’s very pretty.’

‘No – Emily is my daughter,’ Abigail said firmly. ‘And I’m hoping she isn’t going to find our new venture too daunting. But it’ll be fine once we’ve found ourselves accommodation.’

The man’s gaze dropped to Abigail’s left hand … No wedding ring, eh?

‘Look – my name’s Don,’ he said, ‘and my mate over there is Reg. We work together on the line.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps we can help you find your way around the town – we’ve both lived here all our lives.’

Something in his suggestion made Abigail falter … after all, this was a complete stranger. She smiled quickly. ‘Oh, it’s all right, thanks,’ she said, helping Emily unwrap one of the packets of biscuits. ‘We’re used to fending for ourselves – aren’t we, Emily?’

Emily didn’t say a word, just stared at the man curiously.

Just then Reg reappeared, holding two pints of beer which he put down on the table.

‘’Yer you are, mate,’ he said to the other man jovially. ‘Get this down yer neck – it’s been a long day.’

Then he sat down, and without a moment’s pause they both gulped at the beer noisily, Don pausing briefly to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing to swallow until his glass was empty.

‘Blimey, Reg,’ he said. ‘I needed that! Me stomach thought me throat had been cut!’

Suddenly, Abigail wanted to remove herself and Emily from this present company. They were making her feel uncomfortable. But then, Don said, ‘D’you know what, Reg? This little lady and her daughter have just arrived and they’re going to make their home in Bristol. And they don’t know anyone and haven’t got anywhere to stay yet, either.’

‘Go on,’ Reg said slowly. He gazed at Abigail. ‘And – no husband here to take care of you both? What sort of a man is that to leave you high and dry!’

‘I am not married,’ Abigail said stoutly, wishing that these two had never sat with them. Everything about them was offensive. ‘And I can assure you that we can take good care of ourselves.’ She began to clear their things from the table and stood up. ‘I think it’s time we went to the rest room for a wash and brush up.’ She smiled quickly. ‘It’s nice to have met you,’ she said.

‘’Ang on a minute,’ Don said. ‘I told you just now – Reg and me know Bristol like the back of our ’ands. Why don’t you let us show you around? Bristol can be a whole lot of fun on a Friday night, and I’m sure my mum would look after the little one for a couple of hours.’

Abigail had had enough, feeling her mouth go dry with unexpected apprehension. ‘No, thank you,’ she said, helping Emily from the chair, and barely looking at them as she turned to go. ‘Goodbye.’

After she’d left, Reg said, ‘Nice try, mate. But she’s obviously the frigid type. Not your sort at all.’

‘Well, she can’t always have been frigid,’ Don said.

As they walked quickly towards the sign which read ‘Rest Room’, Abigail glanced down at Emily.

‘I’m glad you managed to eat a sausage and one of the biscuits, Emily, and you drank most of your milk, didn’t you?’

Emily nodded. ‘Yes, but we can have chips tomorrow, can’t we, Mummy?’

‘I promise,’ Abigail said, automatically glancing back over her shoulder in case those men were following them. Why had they had to come in and spoil everything, their intentions being obvious, even to Abigail’s untrained senses.

And she had to admit that the last hour had been a learning experience she hadn’t expected. The expression on the face of the woman who’d served their food had been positively hostile when she’d learned that Abigail wasn’t married, and Abigail had distinctly heard her whisper that horrible word – ‘slut’ – to the other woman serving. And then they’d both looked back, tight-lipped, their opinions written all over their faces. So was Edna right after all? Abigail asked herself. Was it so disgraceful for a single woman to produce a child? Was she going to be spurned, judged and condemned in this big city?

And even worse – was she going to be subjected to unwelcome attentions from men? Men she didn’t know and wouldn’t want to know!

Abigail shuddered at her own thoughts, feeling vulnerable and suddenly unsure of herself. She’d seen no reason not to tell the truth that she was Emily’s mother, despite not being married. It was her business, so why should anyone else care? Yet there were already signs that it may be better to avoid any trouble if she could, so perhaps she should not be so open in future. She bit her lip in frustration. This was something she had not thought about, and for Emily’s sake, and for her own protection, it seemed that she was going to have to be evasive in future. She could almost hear Edna’s voice.

‘Well, what did you expect? What you did was a sin and a disgrace which you will bear for the rest of your life! Serves you right!’

Abigail pressed her lips together. One thing she would not be evasive about was that Emily was her little girl. It would be a secret no longer. But there may be something that might help … if she could find a way to bring it about.

The rest room was large and quite inviting as they went inside, with only a young couple already there, talking together quietly. There was a long, padded bench all along one side of the room, and on the other were several comfy chairs and a few small tables. The toilet was clearly indicated at the far end.

‘I think we should have a wash and brush up before we do anything else,’ Abigail said, glancing down at Emily. ‘It’s quite a long time since we used that toilet on the train, isn’t it?’

‘It was funny going wee wee when it was moving, wasn’t it!’ Emily said as Abigail pushed her gently in front of her.

‘It was,’ Abigail agreed, realising again just how many new experiences were to confront both of them. I was right, Dada, wasn’t I, to bring us away from Coopers?

The three cubicles were all vacant, and just as they were about to enter one of them, something in a dusty corner caught Abigail’s eye, and she automatically bent and picked it up, glancing at it quickly. It was an ancient curtain ring, and she slipped it into her pocket. Emily, distracted by working out how to lock the door behind them, had noticed nothing.

By now it was almost eight o’clock and Abigail realised that it was far too late to try to find accommodation in Bristol for the night. But the rest room, empty of others now, was quiet and it seemed quite a good idea to stay here until morning. Although feeling slightly apprehensive, she led Emily over to the long, upholstered bench and, taking her own light woollen shawl from one of their bags and a comfy cardigan which she rolled up into a ball, she made a little nest in the corner for Emily.

‘Look – we’re both tired,’ Abigail said, ‘so we’ll just have a little nap here and set off on our big adventure in the morning.’

Emily, yawning, immediately climbed up and obediently curled herself inside the shawl.

‘This is a funny bed,’ she said, pausing to open one of their bags, ‘but dolly won’t mind. I shall cuddle her all night.’

And within two or three minutes, Emily was fast asleep.

As the night wore on, the noise of the trains became less as fewer of them appeared to be running, and it was almost midnight before Abigail even began to close her eyes, constantly glancing over at the door in case those men should come in. And a couple of times, when she did drift off, she woke with a start, imagining that that awful man’s face was close to hers again, leering at her.

Then, suddenly remembering, she put her hand into her pocket and took out the curtain ring. It was a pathetic object, bent along one side, but after carefully wiping it over and over again with her hanky, Abigail put it on the third finger of her left hand and stared at it. It actually shone a bit, and fitted her perfectly. She allowed herself a little smile.

Not quite as wonderful as the one which Luke would have given her, but it was going to serve its purpose, her first mode of defence.

To outside judgemental eyes she was now a married woman, a respectable mother of children – or of a child. And should Emily notice it – as she surely would – Abigail would merely tell her that she’d had it for ages but that she always forgot to put it on.

Chapter 6

The next morning, Emily was first to wake up and she shook Abigail’s arm gently.

‘Mummy – I need to go somewhere,’ she said. ‘And so does dolly.’

Abigail roused at once, surprised that she’d been able to sleep at all under the circumstances. But she had managed to snatch a few hours’ fitful rest, and now, waking up properly, she kissed Emily’s cheek.

‘Yes, we’ll have a little wash, and then go and find a taxi to take us somewhere nice for breakfast,’ she said. Abigail was determined never to set foot inside the station restaurant again. She shuddered as she remembered yesterday evening.

It was only seven o’clock, and glancing out of the window it was obvious that it was going to be another warm day. There was no one else in the rest room – perhaps she and Emily had been there alone all night, Abigail thought as they went into the toilets. Well, if so, that suited her perfectly. She didn’t want to speak to anyone who might undermine her confidence, even though she felt more than ready to face the world again. And today, she’d be more prepared.

Brushing Emily’s hair out gently – those dark ringlets did tend to tangle, exactly like Luke’s did – Abigail’s mind immediately went back to all those magical times she and Luke had spent together. He’d told her so much about life outside in the proper world, including the hustle and bustle of London’s sights, and what Bristol looked like with all its historic buildings and churches and green parks, and the docks where huge ships brought exciting things from overseas. And he’d said that there were always cafés and restaurants where you could get nice food. And that outside Temple Meads Railway Station a long taxi rank stood waiting to take departing passengers on to their next destination.

That was exactly what was going to happen to them today, Abigail thought as, presently, she replaced their wash things into the toilet bag. She didn’t exactly know what a taxi ride would cost, but she hoped she had enough in her purse to take them to the nearest café for their breakfast. And anyway, she always had that other little bag tucked safely inside her bolero, her safety net.

As they left the rest room, an early train had already hissed its way into the station and people were getting on and off hurriedly. Abigail felt a pang of envy as she passed by. They all knew where they were going, their day planned, familiar, safe. While hers and Emily’s was like stepping into the abyss.

But, as Luke had once said, there was the taxi rank outside and Abigail led Emily over to the first one in the row. The driver immediately got out and opened the back passenger door for them to get in.

‘Morning,’ he said affably as they climbed in. Then he got into the driver’s seat and glanced back. ‘Now, where can I take you young ladies to today?’

Abigail swallowed. She had no idea where they were going. But she answered him brightly. ‘Perhaps you could take us to a restaurant where we might get some breakfast?’

He started the car and they made their way down the wide approach into the town. ‘Just got off the early train, have you?’ he said. ‘Where’ve you come from?’

Abigail stared out of the window as he spoke. Everywhere seemed so huge and so busy! The buildings tall and awesome! Automatically, she pulled Emily in closer to her.

‘Oh – deepest Somerset,’ Abigail said casually in answer to his question, not bothering to say that that had been yesterday. ‘It was a very long train ride,’ she added, ‘but we’re here, and hoping to make our home in the city eventually, even if we don’t have anywhere to stay yet. And first we do need a good breakfast … could you possibly tell us the best café you know?’

The driver glanced at them curiously in the rear-view mirror. A beautiful woman and her sweet little girl, here alone in Bristol and not knowing anyone? He cleared his throat. ‘You have a very pretty daughter, madam,’ he said. ‘Reminds me of my little granddaughter.’

Yes! Abigail felt triumphant. The curtain ring had worked.

‘What’s your name, and how old are you, luvver?’ the man enquired as the car wound its way along the streets.

‘I am called Emily Grace,’ Emily said, unperturbed. ‘And I will be three next birthday.’

He chuckled. ‘You are going to break a man’s heart one day, Emily Grace,’ he said. ‘Now, I am going to drive you to Robertson’s in Denmark Street, just off the Centre. The lady who owns the place is called Janet, and her food is famed throughout the city! I sometimes stop there if I’m not busy.’ He smiled back. ‘Janet does smashing bacon and eggs and toast and marmalade – and afternoon tea and homemade cakes as well. You’ll like Janet.’

Abigail felt her spirits surge. This was a pleasant man, eager to help.

The journey to the café was only a five- or six-minute drive, and after carefully counting out the coins to pay their fare, Abigail led Emily into Robertson’s. Even at this early hour of the day the place was crowded with city workers grabbing a coffee, or others enjoying a full plate of bacon and eggs and sausages as they chatted among themselves. There didn’t seem to be many tables vacant, but as Abigail looked around, a woman approached them, smiling. She was tall, and had a mass of fair hair, slightly greying. She was wearing a full, printed cotton overall.

‘Hello there,’ she said. ‘Look, I know we are a bit busy this morning but there’s a nice little table for two over here.’ She led Abigail and Emily across the room and pulled out two chairs.

‘Oh – thank you so much,’ Abigail said, warming at once to their surroundings. The taxi driver had been right; this was a lovely, welcoming place, and the smell of frying food and hot coffee made her mouth water. She hesitated. ‘Are you Janet?’ she asked diffidently. ‘Our taxi driver recommended your café as the place to enjoy our breakfast.’

Janet smiled down at them. ‘Yes, I’m Janet,’ she said, ‘and it’s always nice to welcome new customers to Robertson’s.’

Having seen them come in, she now studied them with polite interest, the dear little girl and her beautiful young mother, whose unusual footwear – a pair of solid country clogs – had made Janet look up. Those clogs had certainly announced their arrival.

‘What can I get you?’ she asked. ‘There’s always a full English breakfast, or something simpler if you prefer … boiled eggs, toast and marmalade? Shall I go away for a minute while you make up your minds?’

Emily, who’d been taking in their surroundings with her usual intense curiosity, spoke up.

‘Please can I have chips?’ she said. ‘With salt to dip in?’

Abigail touched her arm. ‘No, Emily – chips aren’t usually served for breakfast. Why don’t you have an egg and some fried bread instead?’

Emily’s face crumpled. ‘But you promised I could have chips today, Mummy,’ she said. ‘Please, Mummy. You promised!’

Janet spoke up. ‘I don’t think there’d be any problem in making a few chips,’ she said brightly, ‘because my two helpers, Pat and Fay, who are doing all the cooking out at the back are used to unusual requests. So – Emily – is it just chips you want, or an egg as well?’

Emily immediately cheered up. ‘Just chips, please … with salt?’

‘And what would Mummy like?’ Janet said.

‘A poached egg on toast and a pot of tea, please,’ Abigail said, ‘and a glass of milk for Emily?’

Janet did a mock salute. ‘Order coming up in five or six minutes,’ she said, pausing briefly as she paused to ruffle Emily’s hair and whisper, ‘Don’t tell anyone about the chips or they will all want some!’

The food was absolutely wonderful, and as Abigail sipped at her tea, she sat back feeling at peace with the world, even though she still had so much to do before she could start to relax.

Janet, with her own cup of tea in her hands, returned to their table and pulled up another chair to sit with them. By this time, most of the customers were beginning to leave, and Janet Robertson admitted to being curious about the newcomers. ‘Do you live in the town?’ she said. ‘Or are you from outside?’

‘My name is Abigail Wilson, and we only arrived yesterday,’ Abigail said. ‘You see, we are hoping to make our home in Bristol … we’ve been told what a nice place it is. But we’ve only ever lived in the country – deepest, darkest Somerset! – so we have a lot to learn. Don’t we, Emily?’

Emily had been watching the two young employees putting things away and cleaning the counter, and she looked at Janet. ‘Can I go and help?’ she said.

‘Emily is used to doing things around the house,’ Abigail explained, ‘and is never happier than when she is occupied.’

Janet smiled broadly, moving aside for Emily to leave the table. ‘Pat and Fay will be delighted to let you share their duties,’ Janet said, ‘and so will I! You can drop by at any time and help. I’m sure we can find you a little apron, Emily!’

Abigail looked at Janet gratefully. ‘Emily can’t sit still for very long,’ she said.

There was a moment’s pause before Janet asked tentatively, ‘So … you are here alone, Abigail? Just the two of you, I mean?’

‘Yes,’ Abigail said carefully, ‘because my … husband … has had to go away and I’m not sure how long for.’ Her own words made Abigail colour up because she was not used to telling lies, and that pathetic curtain ring on her finger had been the first one, the first deception. How many more was she going to have to tell now that she’d started? But it was all for her protection, she reassured herself, hers and Emily’s. She’d never dreamed that she was going to have to resort to this. All she’d ever wanted was for her and Emily to be free, and to live lives of their own choosing.

Janet nodded sympathetically, obviously assuming that the war was the reason for this young woman’s husband being absent.

‘Who ever would have thought that we were going to be at war again, so soon after the last hideous one,’ Janet said. ‘It beggars belief – and of course conscription is in full swing, all young men having to go and do their duty.’ She pursed her lips. ‘One of my best friends is in a similar position to you, though he was already a serving officer in the Somerset Light Infantry so he would obviously have been one of the first to go. He’s always being sent off somewhere for yet more and more training, and never knows when he’s going to have leave.’

Abigail looked away for a second, ashamed at pretending to be married. So, Aunt Edna had been right about the possibility of war, though she, Abigail, hadn’t known much about the facts – which was why she’d shrugged off Edna’s warning.

‘How lovely to have a best friend,’ Abigail said, wanting to switch the conversation on to more comfortable waters.

‘Yes – and I have two,’ Janet said happily. ‘Eileen and Carrie. Carrie is the one with the soldier boyfriend who she doesn’t see so much of now.’ Janet finished her cup of tea before adding, ‘Eileen and Carrie both work here in the town and they often pop in for a coffee or a quick meal – or just for a bit of a gossip, which we are all very good at!’

Two best friends, Abigail thought briefly. Well, hadn’t Luke said that she would have friends, real friends, one day? Perhaps Bristol was the place to be to have that sort of luck …

Just then, Emily returned all smiles. ‘I finished wiping the cups and saucers,’ she said triumphantly, ‘and Pat said I did it very well!’

‘Well, maybe next time you come in we can find you even more things to do,’ Janet said, ‘because we’re often short of help at busy times.’

Abigail looked at Janet quickly, instinctively feeling that the owner of this café was someone she could talk to with confidence. ‘As a matter of fact,’ Abigail said, ‘I shall be looking for work myself in a week or so … after I’ve found us somewhere to live. And I would be happy to help you out – I can turn my hand to almost anything on the domestic front,’ she added.

Janet raised her eyes. ‘You mean you’ve nowhere to stay?’ she said, unable to hide her surprise. Who came to a strange city with a tiny child and nowhere to stay?

‘Not yet,’ Abigail replied, ‘but there shouldn’t be too much difficulty, should there? We only need one nice room, and I have … I have the money to pay for it,’ she added.

Janet stood up. ‘Well, there’s a very reliable estate agency a short walk away from here at the end of Clare Street – just off the Centre over there,’ she said. ‘They might have something which could be suitable.’

Abigail stood as well, taking out her purse. ‘Breakfast was lovely, Janet – how much do I owe you?’

After the bill had been paid, Janet saw them to the door and suddenly Abigail hesitated. She turned to Janet.

‘You will think me very naive,’ she said, ‘but I need a little advice.’

Janet smiled. ‘Of course. What can I do to help?’

‘It’s just that … most of the money I own is actually in sovereigns,’ she said, ‘and I realise that shops don’t accept them … do they?’

‘Lucky you to have sovereigns!’ Janet said, ‘I have just one which I keep with my other little treasures. But there won’t be any problem if you take them to the General Post Office, which is a ten-minute walk away from here. I’m sure they will exchange them for pounds, shillings and pence. And then away you go to spend the lot!’

Abigail nodded, smiling. ‘Yes – and I think we are going to need to, because we didn’t bring many clothes with us. But of course, as I don’t know Bristol, I have no idea about where the suitable shops are,’ she added.

Janet folded her arms. ‘I can tell you exactly where you will find everything you need – for both of you,’ she said firmly. ‘Baker Baker at the bottom of Park Street – just round the corner – they cater for every age group so you wouldn’t need to go traipsing all over the place and tiring yourselves out. Everything you might need is all there under one roof.’ She paused for a moment, glancing at Emily. ‘They also sell prams and small pushchairs,’ she added, ‘and I think that if you are going to be doing a lot of walking in the next few days, Emily might be glad of a lift.’

Abigail nodded quickly. At Coopers, Emily had only ever been pushed around in the hand cart which years ago Arnold had made to bring up the vegetables from the field. A proper pushchair for Emily would be a real treat.

Emily, who’d been taking all this in, said, ‘I shan’t want a lift. But dolly might.’

‘I love your little dolly,’ Janet said, ‘and she looks so sweet sitting in the pocket of your dress, Emily.’

‘That’s where she lives,’ Emily said.

They turned to leave, and Abigail said, ‘Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how good it’s been to meet you and to enjoy your lovely food – and your wise words.’

‘The pleasure has been mine, Abigail,’ Janet said, ‘and I hope we see you again here as soon as you’re ready to help me out here. I’ll make absolutely sure we have a little apron all ready for Emily!’

Chapter 7

Leaving Robertson’s and following Janet’s instructions, Abigail and Emily began to make their way up the hill towards Baker Baker.

‘I like Janet,’ Emily said, skipping happily alongside Abigail. ‘And I like Pat and Fay. They said they wished they had a dolly like mine.’

‘Yes, we’re lucky to have gone to Janet’s café, aren’t we?’ Abigail said. ‘Were the chips nice?’ But she needn’t have asked because Emily hadn’t left a single one on her plate.

It really was a lovely warm day and Abigail was filled with a huge sense of optimism. How different she had felt last night! But today it seemed that luck was on their side, and soon she was going to buy herself and Emily a new dress and cardigan, and new shoes. New shoes at last! But she’d have to be careful to study the price of everything first … though Abigail felt sure she had enough of Dada’s money until she was able to swap those sovereigns.

Presently, carrying a bag holding the few items they’d bought, and with both of them wearing new shoes – Abigail’s being a pair of sling-back, cream, open-toe sandals, and Emily’s white canvas daps with tiny silver buckles at each side – they made their way back down the hill towards the estate agent’s office that Janet had told them about.

They had also bought a small pushchair which Emily refused to sit in, but which she had soon found out how to manoeuvre along the pavements and over kerbs.

‘Wouldn’t you like to have a ride, Emily?’ Abigail asked, wishing they could walk a little faster. ‘I’m sure dolly would love to have one.’

That made all the difference, and Emily immediately climbed in to the pushchair and leaned her head back. Abigail thought what a piece of luck they’d had in meeting Janet Robertson. The pushchair had been her idea and it was obvious that it was going to be put to full use in the coming days as they walked about discovering Bristol, their new home. Their new home! It was hard to believe that they were actually here in this busy city, the streets noisy with Saturday morning traffic weaving its way in every direction, and with crowds of people all walking or strolling along, free to come and go as they pleased. Abigail couldn’t help a smile forming on her lips because they were free, too. She and Emily were no longer trapped and could do exactly as they liked without Aunt Edna’s demanding voice constantly in their ears. This was what Abigail had dreamed about for so long, and now it was reality, and with childlike trust, Emily had accepted everything without complaint.

And what would Luke think of her great escape? Abigail wondered. Well, he probably wouldn’t be all that surprised because she had promised him that one day, she would leave Coopers, and never go back. But what he would be surprised about was the presence of a little daughter he knew nothing of. Tears immediately sprang to Abigail’s eyes. It would be wonderful if things were different and he was with them now, together, as a family.

Abigail lifted her head, annoyed with herself. She hadn’t seen Luke, nor heard a thing about him, since that afternoon in the summer house, and it was known that the Jordans no longer lived at Mulberry Court. So by now he would be well on with his studies, achieving everything expected of him and would probably have had no time to give a single thought to her.

Now, they arrived at the estate agent’s office and stopped to look in the window. There were lots of advertisements displaying properties to buy or to rent, and Abigail bit her lip as she stared. The prices quoted seemed rather high to her. And exactly how much money were they going to eventually exchange for those sovereigns? Was it going to be enough?

Just then, a man emerged from the agent’s office and looked down at Abigail. He’d seen her looking in. He smiled. ‘Good morning – or should I say good afternoon because it’s past noon now! Can I help you with anything today?’

Abigail smiled back. ‘Well, um, I am … my name is … is Mrs Wilson … and my daughter and I have only just arrived in Bristol and have nowhere to stay. I’ve no idea where to start looking for accommodation.’

‘Well,’ the man said, ‘come inside and let’s see if anything on our books appeals to you.’ He paused. ‘Is it a house, or a flat that you have in mind? Are there, um … are there just the two of you … Mrs Wilson?’ He raised one eyebrow quizzically as he gazed at Abigail.

‘Yes,’ Abigail said firmly, ‘it’s just Emily and me. Our needs are few and we would only want one bedroom … with suitable facilities as well, of course.’

The tone of her voice implied that she had a mind of her own, and the man immediately began thumbing through his large book.

‘I gather there was nothing in the window that appealed to you,’ he said, ‘but we do have one or two that might be suitable … ah, yes … this one in Stapleton Road is a one-bed. It’s on the ground floor of a terraced block but …’ He glanced at Emily who was sitting quietly staring at everything around her. ‘But it is on the main road and would be rather noisy, especially during busy times of the day … and night. But it does have the one bedroom you require, and you would share bathroom and kitchen with the tenants upstairs.’

‘And where is Stapleton Road?’ Abigail asked, feeling that she should show some interest even though she didn’t like the sound of that noisy place. They’d never even heard one car hoot outside Coopers. Still, she and Emily were going to have to be prepared for changes of all sorts, that was obvious.

‘Oh, some way from here … a bus ride or so,’ the man said.

Abigail let a moment pass. ‘I would really prefer something central if possible,’ she said.

The man pursed his lips as he turned the pages. He had to be honest, they didn’t have much to offer this unusual customer and the only other one-bedroom places were in St. Philip’s and Horfield. Hardly the central locations the lady had requested. Then suddenly he remembered! There was the one that only came in yesterday. It wasn’t even in the book yet. He turned to Abigail.

‘Well, I might have something after all,’ he said, beginning to cheer up. For some reason he hadn’t held out much hope with this customer and it was past his lunch time. ‘It may be just what you’re looking for,’ he went on. ‘One bedroom with shared facilities at number fourteen Redcliffe Way which is as central as you’re ever going to get. And right next to Queen Square – or nearly so – which is a lovely open space. And the property is easy walking distance from the Centre,’ he added triumphantly. ‘From here, you could get there in ten minutes.’

This sounded more like it, but Abigail needed to know a little more. ‘So – who would we be sharing with?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Oh, it’s a very simple arrangement,’ the man said. ‘The owner of the house is a Miss Grant who lives there alone. You would be sharing her facilities, obviously.’ He paused for a second. ‘The only thing is the room is on a rather short lease … three months, actually … but you never know I’m sure that could be extended. If all went well.’

Abigail thought quickly. A three-month arrangement might be perfect because if she and Emily weren’t happy there, they wouldn’t have to put up with it for long. ‘When could we go and meet Miss Grant?’ Abigail said. ‘It is a matter of urgency because, as I’ve already said, we have nowhere to stay tonight.’

The man nodded. ‘Miss Grant informed us that she will be available for viewing every day – apart from tomorrow – from two o’clock to six,’ he said. He glanced at his watch. ‘I would happily have taken you there myself and introduced you to the lady, but we close at three today – my afternoon off – so there’s hardly time, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh that doesn’t matter,’ Abigail said, ‘Emily and I will be able to find our own way without any problem. Going there by ourselves will be a wonderful opportunity to start getting to know Bristol.’

The man bent to scribble something on a piece of paper. ‘Look, here’s a note showing how to get there, but anyone can direct you to Redcliffe Way.’ He began ushering them to the door. ‘And of course I will follow this up with Miss Grant first thing on Monday morning.’

Abigail turned back. ‘We haven’t discussed rent, or what it would cost,’ she began, and he waved his hand.

‘Oh – I assure you it’s usually very little,’ he said airily. ‘Miss Grant didn’t actually say on this occasion, but we’ve had dealings with the lady before and I’m sure what she’s asking this time would not be too much. Anyway,’ he added brightly, ‘you can discuss the financial terms with her and come to a decision that suits you both. You might even try a little bartering!’ He held out his hand to shake Abigail’s. ‘It’s nice to have met you, Mrs Wilson, and I have a feeling that you are going to like number fourteen Redcliffe Way.’ He patted Emily’s head briefly, wondering whether Miss Grant would be happy to accept a child in the arrangement, though he had to admit this one hadn’t made a single sound.

‘Gosh, it’s good to sit down,’ Eileen said as she and Carrie took their seats in the restaurant of Jones’s department store. ‘Wandering from floor to floor can be very wearing.’

The large store in Broadmead Shopping Centre was always very popular with residents and visitors alike, and today it was crowded.

Carrie nodded. ‘Yes, especially as neither of us have bought anything to show for our efforts. Though I’m still thinking about that red dress. After we’ve had lunch I might go back and try it on again.’

‘It did suit you, Carrie,’ Eileen said, ‘as I told you at the time. But you are never very good at making up your mind, are you?’

‘No,’ Carrie agreed cheerfully. ‘Before I part with my money I need to think several times, and then think again.’ She looked pensive for a second. ‘The thing is, I wonder if Mark would like me in that particular colour? It was a bit hot and bothersome, wasn’t it?’

Eileen made a face. ‘Does it matter whether Mark likes it or not?’ she said. ‘You’re the one who’d be wearing it, and if you like it, then surely that’s all that matters.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Carrie said, ‘but I’m always extra happy when I know he really admires something I’m wearing.’ She smiled. ‘At the moment, you haven’t got a man in your life, Eileen, so you’re fun and fancy free.’

‘Yes, and that state of affairs is likely to remain for some time to come,’ Eileen retorted. ‘Life’s too short to be worrying about what someone else wants me to wear, say or do.’

Carrie smiled across at her friend fondly. What Eileen had just said didn’t really ring true because she always went out of her way to help others and put herself last – and had devoted her life to her handicapped mother who’d been widowed for many years. Although Mrs Matthews had always been a dominant character, she’d met her match in her daughter because Eileen was determined that her mother should live as happy a life as possible, despite her infirmities. After the death of her husband, Gladys Matthews, retired head of a junior school, would have been quite happy to sit in her chair and shut the world out. But Eileen would have none of that, taking her mother to church most Sundays, and to the municipal park at the end of their road to sit watching the children playing on the swings, and to the Theatre Royal now and again. It was hard going because Mrs Matthews was often depressed. But she had certainly become used to the sound of hilarity in the house when Carrie, and Eileen’s other friends, came in for a cup of tea and a game of cards or Monopoly. Though Mrs Matthews could never understand what they found so much to giggle and laugh about all the time.

Just then, the waitress came to take their order for lunch, and as so often the case, both girls chose the same. Fish and chips with bread and butter and a pot of tea.

‘Right,’ the waitress said, marking up her pad, ‘and pudding?’

‘Ice cream, please,’ they chorused. ‘One strawberry, one vanilla.’

Presently, as they sat enjoying their meal, Carrie said, ‘How is your mother today, Eileen? You said she hasn’t been sleeping well.’

‘She hasn’t slept well for ages,’ Eileen said, ‘so nothing new there. But I wish she would eat a bit more. I’ve left her some soup I made earlier – leek and potato, which she used to enjoy so I’m hoping she’ll have had some when we get back. Though I don’t suppose she’ll have touched the fresh roll I buttered for her.’

Carrie didn’t answer for a moment, thinking how lucky her own life was in comparison. Her father was the vicar of All Saints in Knowle, and he and her mother were both in good health, and happy in the lives they had chosen. Jonathan Waters’ church always had a full congregation, and Mrs Waters was a faithful partner to him, presiding over the Mothers’ Union, and always ready with tea and sympathy for needy parishioners. But best of all, Carrie knew that they approved of her relationship with Mark and they always welcomed him into their home when he was on leave. Even though Mrs Waters had once said she thought he had chosen a very dangerous career.

‘I’ll give you a penny for them,’ Eileen said now, glancing across. ‘What’s on your mind?’

Carrie smiled quickly. ‘I was just thinking of Mark and … and how glad I am that my parents like him. And how glad I am that you, Eileen, like him as well,’ she added. ‘That you like each other. Wouldn’t it be awful if you two didn’t hit it off! I would probably have to chuck him!’

‘No you wouldn’t,’ Eileen said. She finished her meal and put down her knife and fork. ‘You’d be an idiot to chuck someone like handsome Mark Anderson. Mark with his sense of humour and that infectious laugh is someone special. If I thought I was in with a chance, I’d try my hand at stealing him from you.’

Carrie laughed out loud, knowing that Eileen would never do such a thing. They had always been great and loyal friends, and nothing would change that. Carrie’s eyes clouded briefly. She wished that Eileen could find someone like Mark, even though Eileen always said she wasn’t interested in having a man in her life. There had been one or two flirtations in the office at the Royal Insurance Company where Eileen had worked since leaving school, but Eileen was always the one to end a relationship.

‘It’s funny when you think how you and Mark met,’ Eileen said, and Carrie nodded.

‘You mean how we collided!’ she said. ‘I didn’t think it was funny at the time, but looking back on it, it certainly was funny. I mean, I had only popped down from Accounts to buy everyone a cake to go with our afternoon cuppa, and Mark was there with his back to me at the counter and turned suddenly, and knocked me right off my feet! There I was, full-length on the floor and covered in crumbs!’ Carrie giggled happily at the memory. ‘But he was so gallant as he picked me up and brushed me down and insisted on paying for all the lost cakes.’

‘I should think so too,’ Eileen said. ‘And he made sure that that was not the last time he came into The Berkeley Hotel and Restaurant, either. He haunted the place after that in the hope of seeing you, didn’t he … and that is how the affair of the century began,’ she added.

‘Lucky me,’ Carrie said simply.

‘Lucky him,’ Eileen said firmly.

With Emily in the pushchair in charge of all their bags and shopping, Abigail began walking away from the estate agent’s office in the direction she’d been given. He’d said it would only take them ten minutes and it was now two-thirty so they would be in plenty of time to arrive at the property to meet Miss Grant during the time specified.

Abigail hummed a little tune under her breath. She had a good feeling about number fourteen, and as long as she could afford the terms, they could be installed straightaway, then think of something nice for an early tea. The breakfast at Robertson’s had been very sustaining, but presently something on toast would go down very well. But the first and most important thing was to know where they were going to be sleeping tonight.

Her expression darkened as she remembered what Aunt Edna had said. ‘You must be mad, how on earth do you think you will manage … you have no experience outside here … and you won’t even have a roof over your heads …’

Well of course, part of that was true, Abigail thought, but she and Emily had managed so far, they’d arrived and survived, and it seemed likely that very soon they would have a roof over their heads. Luke was right – you could change things if you were determined.

Abigail was about to cross the road at the end of Baldwin Street in order to follow the instructions she’d been given, when suddenly a car, with its horn blasting, careered around the corner in front of her making her stop and pull back abruptly. And as she did so, Emily, together with all their belongings, was jerked right out of the pushchair. She was thrown to the ground, taking her weight on both her knees. And after a second …

‘Ow! Mummy! Look, look … my knees are bleeding! Oh, Mummy, you made me fall out of the pushchair! Ow, Ow!’

Unable to stop herself, Emily let out a scream of pain and horror as she watched blood begin to trickle down her legs.

Equally horrified, Abigail pulled Emily towards her, annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought to strap Emily into the chair. But before this disaster, there hadn’t seemed to be any need.

‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ Abigail said, ‘but I had to stop quickly or we might have got run over. That car was so close to us!’

Still sobbing quietly, Emily continued examining her wounds while Abigail gathered up their belongings and wondered what to do next. They couldn’t arrive at number fourteen like this – at least not until she’d cleaned Emily up.

‘Oh no! Oh my goodness me! Let us help you! You poor little thing!’

Eileen and Carrie, having strolled to the Centre from Broadmead after their lunch, arrived just in time to see what had happened, and both sprang forward, arms outstretched.

‘I saw that!’ Eileen exclaimed, gathering Emily up into her arms but being careful to avoid her knees. ‘That taxi must have been going ninety miles an hour!’

Abigail, still crouching to collect their things, looked up gratefully. ‘Oh – thanks … thank you,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise I was so close to the kerb.’ She swallowed. ‘We could have been killed!’

Carrie bent to pick up the remaining bag on the ground and smiled at Abigail. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you stopped just in time, and a miss is as good as a mile, isn’t it? And your brave little girl has already stopped crying.’

Suddenly, the penny dropped as Eileen realised she recognised these two. Still holding Emily to her, she gazed at Abigail. ‘I think I’ve seen you before,’ she said slowly. ‘Weren’t you waiting for someone last night at Temple Meads? In the restaurant?’

Of course she’d seen them before! How could she ever forget those two beautiful people!

Taken aback for a moment, Abigail hesitated. ‘Well, we weren’t actually waiting for someone,’ she said. ‘My name is Abigail Wilson and this is my daughter, Emily, and you see, we’d been on a long journey from Somerset and were having a bit of a breather before we … before we had to leave to find ourselves somewhere to stay.’ She paused. She was not going to admit that they’d spent the night in the rest room. ‘We’ve left our old home,’ she went on, ‘and intend starting a new life here in Bristol even though we don’t know anyone yet. As a matter of fact, we were actually on our way to view an address which might be suitable for the two of us.’ She paused again, knowing she’d been gabbling. ‘But first I need to make Emily more comfortable.’ She glanced down. ‘Is it still stinging, darling?’ she murmured.

Still in Eileen’s arms, Emily nodded, but had stopped whimpering as she took in this new situation.

‘Well, I know exactly where we can make Emily more comfortable,’ Eileen said firmly, ‘don’t you, Carrie?’

‘Of course,’ Carrie said at once. ‘Come on, we are going to introduce you to our favourite watering hole, Mrs Wilson! Robertson’s café just over the road there! Janet will have everything necessary to make Emily forget she ever fell down! Janet’s cakes are always the talk of the town,’ Carrie went on, ‘and she sells lovely ice cream, too!’

That put a faint smile on Emily’s face. ‘Can I have an ice cream, Mummy?’ she said.

‘You can have whatever you like, Emily,’ Abigail said, relieved that things were not as bad as they could have been if she’d not stopped in time to let that car go past – and even more relieved that these two young women had arrived to help them at just the moment they were needed.

As if reading her thoughts, Eileen said, ‘Look – I am Eileen Matthews, and this is my best and most-trusted friend Carrie Waters. So – a few minutes ago you might not have known anyone, Mrs Wilson, but now you know us. You do have friends in Bristol, after all.’

Abigail, swallowing over the lump in her throat, looked up gratefully. ‘Please call me Abigail,’ she said. ‘And I am so glad to have met you, Eileen and Carrie, just at the moment I needed someone,’ she added.

But as they crossed the road towards the café, Eileen couldn’t help being curious about Mrs Abigail Wilson and her small daughter. Why would anyone come to a strange city knowing no one, and with nowhere to live? And as far as Eileen could tell – not having many belongings either. She’d noticed last night that they’d had no luggage with them, no cases for their clothes. Though they now had a pushchair and a Baker Baker carrier bag with them, so it seemed they’d done some shopping …

Which was more than could be said for Carrie who’d decided against that red dress after all.

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