Nancy gave a little shudder. She’d hate that herself, messing about in people’s mouths, but Maria was drawn to all things medical and seemed over the moon about the opportunity. But the icing on the cake, and something none of them could have foreseen, was that Gregory had been approached in the spring by an old army colleague whose family owned a hotel in Roker. Gregory had served under the captain in Tobruk and on one occasion had been instrumental in saving his life, something which Gregory had forgotten but which Captain Fletcher had not. On leaving the army after the war the captain had taken over the family business and had, in his own words, decided to search out a fellow native. The fact that the Fletchers owned a string of first-class hotels all over the north-east and Gregory was as poor as a church mouse was neither here or there. The captain had offered Gregory the job as lift attendant at the hotel, and the monthly salary to go with it had made Gregory’s eyes pop out of his head. Nancy had never had the opportunity to tell the captain what the job had meant to her husband’s self-esteem but she suspected he knew anyway. He was a nice man, Captain Fletcher, she thought to herself. A very nice man.
Douglas had filled himself to bursting and had fallen asleep at her breast. She settled the baby in her arms and was just rearranging her clothing when Rachel came into the room. They had met for the first time the afternoon before when she and Gregory and the rest of the family had made the journey from Sunderland for Cora’s wedding. She hadn’t expected to like the woman Cora regarded as almost a second mother, and she didn’t, but she was honest enough to admit that it was her problem and not Rachel’s.
Now, as Rachel said, ‘Cora wondered if you could help her get ready,’ Nancy forced a smile, before passing Gregory his son and walking into the hall. There Rachel caught up with her, taking her arm as she murmured, ‘Could I talk to you for a minute before you go up?’ Whereupon she led the way to the kitchen.
As Nancy entered, Rachel waved her to a chair but Nancy remained where she was, just inside the door. ‘What is it you wish to say?’ she said politely, trying to keep the antagonism which she knew was completely unwarranted from sounding in her voice. She knew she had been cool with Rachel but she just couldn’t help it and she fully expected that the other woman was going to take her to task. So when Rachel said softly, ‘It’s about Wilfred,’ Nancy’s eyes widened.
‘Wilfred?’ Her voice was high with surprise and realizing this she turned and shut the door before moving fully into the room. ‘What about him?’
‘I received a letter from him, after – after he’d died. He must have posted it that evening, knowing what he was going to do.’
Nancy stiffened. Wilfred’s death was officially an accident.
‘It was unpleasant.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘No, more than unpleasant. I had never liked Wilfred and he didn’t like me, but that aside, it – well, it was unhinged.’
Nancy sat down in the chair Rachel had gestured to when they had come into the kitchen. Her legs suddenly felt weak. ‘What did it say?’
‘Among other things, that I would be damned for all eternity for my part in breaking him and Cora up and that he would haunt me until the day I died. Unexplained things would happen, he said, and I would know it was him, watching me and waiting. Unhinged, like I said, but there was no doubt that he absolutely believed what he had written. He expected to be able to reach beyond the grave. Nancy –’ Rachel paused. She was fully aware of how Cora’s mother felt about her. ‘Wilfred’s passing? It wasn’t an accident, was it?’
Nancy shook her head.
‘Wilfred said he’d left a letter for Cora.’
‘He did. I destroyed it and she doesn’t know it existed.’
‘Was it bad?’
‘It was a curse, evil. If she’d read it she would never have been able to get it out of her mind.’
Rachel nodded. ‘How did you find it before anyone else?’
Nancy breathed out slowly. ‘Cora must never know.’
‘Of course she must never know. That’s why I’ve never mentioned his letter to me.’
‘You destroyed it?’
‘Immediately.’
‘Well,’ said Nancy quietly. ‘It was like this . . .’
The telling didn’t take long. Outside the open kitchen window the birds were singing and the sky was blue, and in the fields surrounding the farm the scent of trees and wild flowers was sweet and warm winds rustled the ripening ears of corn. It was a beautiful day, and to the two women in the kitchen the darkness they were discussing was all at odds with the summer morning.
There was silence for a few moments after Nancy finished speaking, and then Rachel whispered, ‘Thank you for telling me. Do you think Cora suspects he killed himself?’
‘Why? Has she said anything to you?’
‘No, no.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘She told me it was an accident, that he got drunk and fell and hit his head. She said she felt awful because she thought he got drunk on account of her telling him she was coming to see Jed, but I said it was far more likely because he had lost his da and then his mam in such a short time.’ Rachel looked at Nancy. ‘And to think he did them in – it doesn’t bear thinking about. And that poor lad who liked her, losing his legs an’ all, and then blackmailing Jed to join up.’
Neither of them mentioned Farmer Burns.
Nancy stood up. ‘I’d better go up, no doubt she’s all a dither, and . . . thank you for saying nothing about Wilfred’s letter to you.’
‘I care about Cora. Very much.’
‘Aye, I know you do.’ It cost Nancy something to add, ‘And she cares about you too,’ but it was in that moment that they became friends.
Cora was an exquisite bride. She was wearing her mother’s wedding dress, and so alike were they that Nancy had barely had to alter a stitch of the lace and satin gown. When the music began and she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm Jed turned from his place at the front of the church next to Jock who was his best man, and such was the look on his face that everyone reached for their handkerchiefs. Indeed the only one who wasn’t in tears was Cora; her face was radiant and her eyes starry, and Jed didn’t think he had seen anything so beautiful in his life.
After the service in the little parish church all the guests followed the bridal horse and trap that was decked out with white ribbons and wild posies to Appletree Farm. Jed had his arm round her as they drew near to the farmhouse, and as Cora gazed at the lovely old building, its walls almost hidden by vines and climbing roses, she remembered the first time she had seen it. It had been a warm summer’s day then too, and she had been captivated by the beauty of the house that had spoken of peace and joy and comfort to the unhappy bewildered girl she’d been then. And now it was her home and Jed was her husband.
She turned to him, her face alight with happiness. ‘I love you so much,’ she whispered, ‘so very much.’
He tightened his arm around her, his other hand holding the reins, bending his head and kissing her as he murmured, ‘It would be impossible to express how much I love you, my darling.’ And as she smiled and lay her head on his shoulder, he knew a moment of deep thankfulness that nothing had marred this day for her.
Only his father knew about the letter he had received after Wilfred had died; its contents had been too vile to show to his mother. They had burned it and it hadn’t been mentioned between them from that day to this, but in a way the letter had achieved the very opposite of what its writer would have wanted in that it had brought him and his father closer. It had shown his father what he had been up against with Wilfred Hutton as nothing else could have done, destroying any last remnants of doubt that Wilfred hadn’t actually meant to send him to his death.
As he brought the horse and trap to a halt, he jumped down and then lifted Cora into his arms, twirling her round before setting her on her feet. ‘Welcome home, Mrs Croft,’ he said softly as the rest of the procession began to arrive. ‘Prepare to be carried over the threshold shortly.’
Jed’s
father was having a little cottage built in the grounds of the farm for himself and Jed’s mother which would be ready for them in the autumn when they’d move out of the farmhouse. They had insisted they wanted the young couple to take the main house and make it their own for themselves and any future children they might have. Cora had won her mother-in-law’s heart for ever when she’d said she wouldn’t want to alter a single thing in the farmhouse, but Jed had several things in mind. An indoor privy both upstairs and downstairs, he’d told Cora one evening when she’d travelled up for the weekend, along with converting one of the bedrooms into a big bathroom with running water on tap. ‘And later an extension at the back of the house overlooking the garden,’ he’d enthused. ‘The ground floor being a sunroom with big doors we can throw open in the summer, and the first floor consisting of our bedroom suite with our own bathroom and private sitting room.’ She had smiled and hugged him and told him his plans were wonderful, but all she really wanted was to be his wife and live and work with him on the farm. A partnership in every way as modelled by Jed’s parents. And bairns, she had added firmly. She wanted lots of bairns. At least three little boys and three little girls. Jed had laughed and said he’d do his best but perhaps they ought to get the wedding day over first?
Cora thought of this now as she stood arm in arm with her new husband and watched her family and friends coming towards them. Even Etta had made the journey from Czechoslovakia to be with them, and Maud had arrived the day before and was staying with Rachel and Jack at the farm for a few days. It was the perfect day, and she suddenly felt a sharp sense of regret and loss that Wilfred wasn’t among the throng. But the old Wilfred, her best friend and childhood companion. Not the Wilfred who had emerged when she had met Jed and fallen in love with him, the Wilfred who had professed such great love for her while attempting to ruin her life by forcing the man she adored to leave her for the horrors of war. That individual would always have constituted a very real threat to her Jed. She had never seen it so clearly before. And so it was time to say goodbye to both the Wilfreds she had known. The hurt little boy and the dangerous man. And somehow, she hadn’t been able to let go of the first until this very moment, because at the bottom of her she had been rent with pity and sorrow, and guilt too, because she hadn’t been able to make things right for him. But that was a betrayal of Jed.
She glanced at her husband. His features showed the ravages of what he had been through and he looked ten, twenty years older than he was. Still handsome, still her Jed, but damaged. If she lived a hundred lifetimes she would never be able to make it up to him – what loving her had cost him.
Softly, so softly that the words were merely a silent breath, she whispered, ‘You have no hold on me any more, Wilfred, and I won’t think of you again. I’m going into the future and nothing of you can come with me.’
A sudden breeze came from nowhere, caressing her face and lifting her veil, but she smoothed it into place, suddenly impatient for the rest of the day to begin, and the breeze disappeared. And as her mother and father and Maria and Rachel reached her, hugging her and laughing and surrounding her and Jed with their love, she felt free for the first time in her mind and spirit since the day, many years before, when as a small bairn she had taken a crying little boy into her arms and comforted him with childish hugs and kisses.
Beyond the Veil of Tears
By Rita Bradshaw
Fifteen-year-old Angeline Stewart is heartbroken when her beloved parents are killed in a coaching accident, leaving her an only child in the care of her uncle.
Naive and innocent, Angeline is easy prey for the handsome and ruthless Oswald Golding. He is looking for a rich heiress to solve the money troubles his gambling and womanizing have caused.
On her wedding night, Angeline enters a nightmare from which there is no awakening. Oswald proves to be more sadistic and violent than she could ever have imagined. When she finds out she is expecting a child, Angeline makes plans to run away and decides to take her chances fending for herself and her baby. But then tragedy strikes again . . .
The Colours of Love
By Rita Bradshaw
England is at war, but nothing can dim land girl Esther Wynford’s happiness at marrying the love of her life – fighter pilot Monty Grant. But months later, on the birth of her daughter Joy, Esther’s world falls apart.
Esther’s dying mother confesses to a dark secret that she has kept to herself for twenty years: Esther is not her natural daughter. Esther’s real mother was forced to give up her baby to an orphanage – and now Joy’s birth makes the reason for this clear, as Esther’s true parentage is revealed.
Harshly rejected by Monty, and with the man Esther believed was her father breathing fire and damnation, she takes her precious baby and leaves everything and everyone she’s ever known, determined to fend for herself and her child. But her fight is just beginning . . .
Snowflakes in the Wind
By Rita Bradshaw
It’s Christmas Eve 1920 when nine-year-old Abby Kirby’s family is ripped apart by a terrible tragedy. Leaving everything she’s ever known, Abby takes her younger brother and runs away to the tough existence of the Border farming community.
Years pass. Abby becomes a beautiful young woman and falls in love, but her past haunts her, casting dark shadows. Furthermore, in the very place she’s taken refuge is someone who wishes her harm.
With her heart broken, Abby decides to make a new life as a nurse. When the Second World War breaks out, she volunteers as a QA nurse and is sent overseas. However, life takes another unexpected and dangerous turn when she becomes a prisoner of the Japanese. It is then that Abby realizes that whatever has gone before is nothing compared to what lies ahead . . .
A Winter Love Song
By Rita Bradshaw
Bonnie Lindsay is born into a travelling fair community in the north-east of England in 1918, and when her mother dies just months later Bonnie’s beloved father becomes everything to her. Then, at the tender age of ten years old, disaster strikes. Heartbroken, Bonnie’s left at the mercy of her embittered grandmother and her lecherous stepgrandfather.
Five years later, the events of one terrible night cause Bonnie to flee to London, where she starts to earn her living as a singer. She changes her name and cuts all links with the past.
Time passes. Bonnie falls in love, but just when she dares to hope for a rosy future, the Second World War is declared. She does her bit for the war effort, singing for the troops and travelling to Burma to boost morale, but heartache and pain are just around the corner, and she begins to ask herself if she will ever find happiness again.
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Beneath a Frosty Moon
Rita Bradshaw was born in Northamptonshire, where she still lives today. At the age of sixteen she met her husband – whom she considers her soulmate – and they have two daughters, a son and six grandchildren. Much to her delight, Rita’s first novel was accepted for publication and she has gone on to write many more successful novels since, including the number one bestseller Dancing in the Moonlight.
As a committed Christian and passionate animal-lover her life is full, but she loves walking her dog, reading, eating out and visiting the cinema and theatre, as well as being involved in her church and animal welfare.
BY RITA BRADSHAW
Alone Beneath the Heaven
Reach for Tomorrow
Ragam
uffin Angel
The Stony Path
The Urchin’s Song
Candles in the Storm
The Most Precious Thing
Always I’ll Remember
The Rainbow Years
Skylarks at Sunset
Above the Harvest Moon
Eve and Her Sisters
Gilding the Lily
Born to Trouble
Forever Yours
Break of Dawn
Dancing in the Moonlight
Beyond the Veil of Tears
The Colours of Love
Snowflakes in the Wind
A Winter Love Song
Beneath a Frosty Moon
Author’s Note
Whenever I’ve thought about the question of evacuation during the Second World War, the iconic picture of small children with little cardboard suitcases and labels round their necks standing at a train station comes to mind. A sweet, heart-tugging picture on the face of it, but that was how the government of the time wanted the subject presented. Those snapshots of time were far from being the whole story, of course. With over three million British children being targeted in private and government-sponsored schemes aimed at sending them away to the safety of the English countryside, to Canada and the United States of America, South Africa, New Zealand and even as far as Australia, there was untold heartache and misery for parents and children alike.
Beneath a Frosty Moon Page 36
