‘Family!’ Her mouth curled with contempt. ‘We were never a family, Victor.’
‘He is my flesh and blood!’
‘Perhaps. But he is not your family.’ She stared at him, unflinching. ‘You have no family, Victor. You lost your family the day you first raised your hand to me.’
A muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘Perhaps we should ask the boy if he wants to stay here?’ he snapped.
‘I decide what’s best for him.’
‘Running up and down the country, dragging him from hovel to hovel – is that what you call doing your best?’ he sneered. ‘I can give him more than you ever could.’
The steely hatred in his eyes wrenched Violet back into the past. She saw herself on the floor, cowering under his raised hand.
‘I am his mother,’ she whispered, her courage failing her.
‘And I am his father.’ Victor lifted his hand and Violet flinched before she realised he was gesturing to Mrs Sherman to bring Oliver inside again.
Panic filled her chest. ‘What are you doing?’
Victor gave her a chilly smile. ‘I am going to talk to my son.’
He turned slowly, shuffling around on his cane as Mrs Sherman ushered Oliver into the room. He was out of breath and pink-cheeked from running, his dark hair sticking up.
‘Did you enjoy the garden, Oliver?’ Victor smiled at him.
‘Oh, yes, thank you, sir.’ He turned to Violet. ‘You should come and see it, Mummy. There’s a little summerhouse, and a wood – and a lake with fish in it, just like the park!’
‘I know, sweetheart,’ she said quietly.
Victor addressed the child. ‘How would you like to play in that garden every day?’
Violet stiffened. ‘Victor—’ she began, but he held up a hand to silence her.
‘I have asked the boy a question,’ he bit out.
Oliver frowned in confusion, looking from one to the other. ‘I – I don’t understand—’
‘It’s quite simple, Oliver. I am asking if you – and your mother, of course – would like to come and stay here. You could have the garden to play in, and you could choose which flowers to plant. Mrs Sherman could help you. Isn’t that right, Mrs Sherman?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Violet saw the housekeeper’s tight smile out of the corner of her eye.
‘You could even have a dog, if you wished,’ Victor promised.
‘A dog?’ Oliver’s face lit up. ‘You mean a puppy?’
‘One of your very own. Think of the fun you could have, and all the tricks you could teach it.’
Violet’s heart sank, and she tried to step in. ‘Really, I don’t think—’ she started to say, but Victor cut her off.
‘Let the child speak for himself,’ he said curtly, eyes still fixed on Oliver. ‘Well, boy? What do you say to that?’
Oliver considered it for a moment. ‘It sounds very nice, sir,’ he replied cautiously. ‘But if you don’t mind, I prefer the gardens at the hospital. I really don’t think Sister Sutton could manage without me there. She finds it very hard to bend in her old age, you see. And there would be no one to throw sticks for Sparky. He’s old too, but he’s getting quite good at playing fetch.’ Oliver glanced warily at his mother. ‘If that’s all right?’ he said.
‘Of course it is, sweetheart.’ Violet smiled with pride in her son. She turned to Victor. ‘I think you have your answer.’
They left soon afterwards. As Violet bundled Oliver into his coat in the hallway, Victor asked, ‘Will you bring him again?’
She met his gaze, something she had rarely dared to do before. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I don’t think I will.’
His eyes narrowed, but he nodded briefly. Even her husband knew when he was beaten.
‘I understand,’ he said quietly.
‘Who was that man, Mummy?’ Oliver asked again, when they were in the taxi heading back to the station.
‘I told you, darling. He’s just someone Mummy used to know.’
‘So he isn’t my father?’
Ice trickled down her spine. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘That old lady whispered it to me, when we were in the garden. But I told her not to be silly, because my father was handsome and clever and he’s dead.’ Oliver pulled a face. ‘And I didn’t like that old lady. She kept trying to touch me, and she had hands like claws. Like a witch.’ He twisted round to look out of the narrow strip of back window. ‘Do you think there were ghosts in that old house, Mummy?’
Violet glanced back at Curlew House, receding into the distance. ‘I think there probably were.’
‘How horrible.’ He flopped back in his seat. ‘We don’t have to go back there, do we?’
Violet stroked his head. ‘No, Oliver.’ She smiled. ‘We don’t have to go back there ever again.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
RUBY PIKE HAD never looked so lovely. She was wearing a new pink dress that clung to her figure, her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her face.
‘Do you like it? It’s how Jean Harlow does hers,’ she said, primping her curls with her fingers.
‘It’s – very nice.’ Nick could hardly look into her eyes.
She went to kiss him, but he averted his face so she caught only the corner of his mouth. ‘Shall we get going?’ he said, moving towards the door.
‘Where are you taking me tonight?’ Ruby smiled up at him. ‘There’s a new film on at the Rialto.’
‘I thought we’d just walk down to the café for pie and mash.’
Her painted mouth curved downwards in disappointment. Usually she would complain, say she was wearing the wrong shoes, or tell him in no uncertain terms she hadn’t dressed up like a Hollywood starlet just to sit in some greasy Joe’s. But this time she nodded compliantly. She seemed very anxious to please, almost as if she knew what Nick was planning to do.
He’d lain awake all the previous night, trying to work out how to break the news. There was no easy way to tell her it was over, but it had to be done. He couldn’t go on pretending, it wasn’t fair on either of them.
He thought about Dora, seeing her smiling face in his mind’s eye. He still couldn’t believe that she actually loved him. Dreams didn’t often come true for the likes of Nick Riley, but this one had.
Now he began to dream of other things, too. He saw them flying off to America together with Danny, to start their new life. He saw them arriving in New York, stepping off that aeroplane, hand in hand, their hearts full of hope. He’d talked about going often enough, but deep down he’d always doubted if he could take that final step. Now, with Dora by his side, he felt brave enough to take on the world.
‘Nick?’ Ruby’s voice brought him up short. He started guiltily. He’d been so preoccupied with his own thoughts, he hadn’t realised how far they’d walked. Now she was standing outside the pie and mash shop, both hands planted on her hips. ‘Are we going in, or what?’ she demanded.
Inside, the brightly lit café was warm and busy. The aroma of freshly baked pies mingling with the pungent tang of cooked eels was usually irresistible, but for once Nick didn’t feel hungry as they slid into one of the wooden booths that ran down one side of the café. On the other side, a large woman in a white overall served a line of customers from behind the marble-topped counter, ladling pie and mash and liquor on to plates and handing them over with one hand while deftly ringing up the till with the other.
‘What are you having?’ Nick offered, pulling out his wallet.
‘Just a cup of tea for me.’
He frowned at Ruby. He was in no mood to eat, but it wasn’t like her to miss out. ‘You sure?’
‘I know. I’m a cheap date, ain’t I?’ Ruby’s smile didn’t meet her eyes as she took off her hat and fluffed up her curls.
He watched her as he lined up at the counter for their order. She seemed miles away as she sat writing her name in the steamed-up window. He wondered with a jolt if she really did know what was coming. Perhaps she was preparing herself for it a
s much as he was?
Whatever troubled thoughts were in her mind seemed to be gone by the time he returned to the table with their tea. From having nothing to say, Ruby suddenly seemed anxious to fill the silence. Nick listened to her gossiping about the goings-on at the garment factory, and her brothers’ latest brush with the law, letting her words wash over him as he struggled to work out what he was going to say.
Finally, as they drained the last of the tea in their cups, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.
‘Listen, Ruby—’ he began.
‘Ooh, look,’ she said, pointing out of the window. ‘You see that woman’s coat? I was thinking of buying one just like it. What do you think?’
‘Very nice. Ruby, I’ve been thinking—’
‘I’m not sure it would suit me, though. I think you have to be a lot taller to carry that fashion off.’
‘Ruby—’
‘And the colour is a bit dull, isn’t it? I like something nice and bright myself—’
‘Ruby!’ He caught her hand, turning her towards him. ‘Listen to me, please. I’ve got something to say to you.’
She sobered instantly, her smile disappearing. ‘I’ve got something to say to you, too.’
Her sudden seriousness caught him unawares. ‘What is it?’
‘You go first.’
‘No, you.’
‘All right.’ She looked down at their hands, still clasped together on the table, then back up at him. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
Nick felt as if he’d had an unguarded blow to the stomach, knocking all the wind out of him. The smell of the greasy food suddenly made him feel sick.
‘You what?’
‘For gawd’s sake, Nick, don’t make me say it again. It’s taken me all my nerve to say it once.’
He stared at her. She sat across the table from him, her blue eyes huge. She’d chewed off most of her lipstick.
‘Well, say something!’ Her smile wobbled.
‘But how—?’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘Do you want me to draw you a picture?’
‘No, I mean – I thought we were careful?’
‘Accidents happen.’
He ran his hand through his hair. It suddenly felt as if his ribs were squeezing the air out of him, making it impossible to breathe.
It couldn’t be true, not now. How could he have been so stupid?
‘Have you told anyone else?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought you should be the first to know.’
He glanced down at her belly, flat under her pretty pink dress. ‘And you’re sure?’
‘Sure as I can be.’ Her smile faltered. ‘Look, it’s all right, you don’t have to look so worried,’ she said. ‘I’ve asked around at the factory, pretending it was for a friend. They reckon there’s a woman on the Mile End Road who helps out girls in trouble . . .’
‘No!’ Nick shook his head. ‘You’re not going to one of them butchers. I’ve wheeled too many girls down to the mortuary for that. I don’t want to see that happen to you.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ Ruby licked her lips nervously.
Nick looked at her. He felt as if the bottom was dropping out of his world. Everything he wanted, everything he’d hoped for, was receding from him, and he couldn’t stop it.
‘Only one thing we can do, isn’t there?’ he said grimly.
Millie placed the bunch of daffodils on Maud Mortimer’s grave. Father had chosen a nice spot for her in the churchyard, under blossom-laden cherry trees. Millie smiled to herself. She thought it was lovely here, but she could just imagine Maud complaining bitterly about the pink and white petals falling on her.
Her father had been very understanding when Millie had explained why she wanted Maud buried at Billinghurst. ‘No one knows where the rest of her family is buried, and I don’t want her to be alone. Does that sound very silly?’
‘Not at all, my dear. I think it’s very commendable of you to show such concern. I’ll talk to Reverend Butler, and see if we can arrange a funeral for her here. We’ll make sure she has a good send-off, don’t you worry,’ he reassured her.
Her grandmother, needless to say, didn’t agree.
‘What an extraordinary idea,’ she’d declared. ‘You’ll be wanting strangers buried in the family vault next!’
But Millie would much rather have faced the dowager countess’s despair over Maud’s funeral arrangements than discuss the other subject she knew was playing on her mind.
She had been pressing Millie from the moment she’d arrived the previous evening.
‘I assume you’re here to see Sebastian?’ she’d said at dinner. ‘You do know he’s staying at Lyford, don’t you?’ she added, with a searching look as Millie tried to hide her surprise.
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘I am shocked. You are supposed to be his fiancée, after all.’
Millie helped herself to vegetables from the silver dish the footman was holding. She could feel her grandmother’s eyes on her, and wondered if the rumours about her and Seb had reached Billinghurst yet.
‘You must visit him, of course,’ her grandmother said.
‘No! I mean, I can’t. I have to catch the lunchtime train back to London tomorrow. I’d rather spend the time I have with you and Daddy.’
She turned pleading eyes to her father, who shrugged helplessly. They both knew that once his mother had an idea in her head, there was no shaking it.
‘Don’t be silly, you have plenty of time. Unless there is a reason why you don’t want to see him?’ she added, narrowing her eyes across the table.
Millie stared down at her plate. Much as she’d tried to put it off, she knew it was inevitable that they would meet sometime.
‘That’s settled, then.’ Her grandmother took her silence for assent. ‘Benson will drive you over there in the morning.’
Millie tried to hide her wretchedness, but her father noticed.
‘Really, Mother, must you interfere?’ he rebuked her.
Lady Rettingham glared at him. ‘Henry, if I didn’t interfere, your daughter would still be a tomboy climbing trees and making rafts on the lake!’ she replied with asperity.
Which was why, as Millie paid her respects to Maud in the churchyard on that fine April morning, Benson was waiting for her beyond the lychgate, standing patiently beside the Daimler, the brass buttons on his green coat glinting in the pale sunlight.
‘Oh, Maud. What a mess.’ Millie plucked a few petals off the neat patch of earth. ‘What am I going to do when I see him? What am I going to say?’
Almost immediately she heard the old lady’s voice in her head, and her final words.
No regrets.
It was too late for that, thought Millie. She was already bitterly regretting ending her engagement, but she couldn’t see how that was ever going to change.
Benson sprang to attention as she came down the path out of the churchyard.
‘Lyford, your ladyship?’ he said, opening the door for her.
‘I suppose so,’ Millie sighed.
The duke and duchess were in London, so at least she was spared the awkwardness of meeting them. The butler informed her Lord Sebastian was out riding.
‘He should return shortly, if you would like to wait?’ he said, stepping back from the door.
‘I’ll wait for him in the stableyard.’ Millie couldn’t imagine anything worse than sitting in the drawing room, waiting for him to arrive. The sooner they got this awkward first meeting over with, the better. Her temples were already beginning to throb with pent-up tension.
At least in the yard she could relax for a moment. The duke was known for his ability to spot a good horse, and Millie enjoyed inspecting some of his latest acqui-sitions. The smell of leather and horseflesh and even the rotting smell of dung made her feel curiously reassured.
She was in the tack room chatting to one of the grooms when she heard the clatter of hooves on the cobbles. She went outside, shading her e
yes from the sun, as Seb walked into the yard astride a magnificent grey stallion.
She had forgotten how handsome he was, his hair glinting golden in the sun. His fitted breeches and white shirt showed off his lean, hard-muscled body. She ached to run to him, but forced herself to stand rigidly in the shadows.
He didn’t see her at first. She watched as the groom came out and caught the horse’s bridle, then muttered something to Seb. He looked over and saw her, astonishment crossing his face.
‘Millie? What are you doing here?’
‘Hello, Seb.’ She felt suddenly shy and tongue-tied.
He slipped from his horse, handed the reins to the groom and strode over to her. He stopped dead a few paces from her, as if there was an invisible fence keeping them apart.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ he said stiffly.
‘I was visiting my family.’
‘Ah. Of course.’ He slapped his crop against his gleaming leather boots. The silence stretched between them.
‘I was coming to see you,’ he said finally, his gaze fixed on the muddy cobbles. ‘I kept meaning to telephone or send a note. But then I put it off.’
‘So did I.’
‘I didn’t really know what I was going to say.’
‘Nor me,’ she admitted.
‘It’s not easy, it is? Finding the right words.’ His smile was strained.
He was going to tell her it was over. She knew it, and she dreaded it, but she didn’t know how to stop it. Her heart pounded in her ears, almost deafening her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Millie blurted out. ‘I don’t want us to be apart anymore. I hate not being engaged.’
He lifted his gaze to look at her, hope flashing in his blue eyes. ‘I’m the one who should be apologising. I was a first-class idiot. I should have known better than to start laying down all those absurd rules and ultimatums.’ His words came out in a rush of apology.
‘No, no, it was my fault for being so stubborn, for thinking my nursing was so important—’
‘It is important.’
‘Not as important as you.’
They stared at each other for a moment, letting the meaning of their words sink in.
‘You were quite right to throw my ring back at me – I think I would have done the same.’ Seb looked rueful. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
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