Megan of Merseyside

by Rosie Harris

  Contents

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Rosie Harris

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Copyright

  About the Book

  She fell in love – he broke her heart

  Young Megan Williams has come to Liverpool in search of work and a fresh start. She soon joins her father at Walker’s Shipping Company where his co-driver Robert Field takes a great interest in her. But she has fallen deeply in love with dashing Miles Walker and does all she can to discourage Robert.

  Then, one fateful day, Megan’s world falls apart when her younger sister is killed in a tragic accident. Distraught, Megan is also faced with shocking revelations about Miles, which force her to realise he’s not the man she thought he was.

  Heartbroken, but determined to get on with her life, Megan starts up her own business, but will she ever love again …?

  About the Author

  Rosie Harris was born in Cardiff and grew up there and in the West Country. After her marriage she resided for some years on Merseyside before moving to Buckinghamshire where she still lives. She has three grown-up children, six grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, and writes full time. Megan of Merseyside is her eleventh novel for Arrow.

  Also by Rosie Harris

  Liverpool Sagas

  Turn of the Tide

  Patsy of Paradise Place

  Looking for Love

  Winnie of the Waterfront

  The Cobbler’s Kids

  A Mother’s Love

  Waiting for Love

  A Dream of Love

  Love Changes Everything

  Whispers of Love

  The Price of Love

  Welsh Sagas

  Troubled Waters

  One Step Forward

  Pins and Needles

  At Sixes and Sevens

  Sunshine and Showers

  The Power of Dreams

  Sing for Your Supper

  Love Against all Odds

  A Love Like Ours

  The Quality of Love

  Ambitious Love

  A Brighter Dawn

  For Rob and Andy Wotherspoon

  And, of course, Edna, Alison and John

  Acknowledgements

  Once again many thanks to Georgina Hawtrey-Woore and all her colleagues. Also to Caroline Sheldon for her continued support.

  Chapter One

  MEGAN WILLIAMS KNEW that there was something troubling her dad the minute he came home from work. Even after he had washed away the slate dust from his hands and face Watkin Williams still looked grey and rather preoccupied.

  ‘What’s wrong, Dad?’ she asked solicitously. ‘Don’t you feel too well?’

  ‘Your dad’s tired, that’s all,’ her mother said as she placed a steaming dish of potatoes in the centre of the table. ‘He’ll be all right once he’s eaten.’

  ‘No, Megan’s right.’ His frown deepened. ‘There is something you should all know about. I’m changing my job!’

  ‘Oh? Why is that, then?’ Kathy Williams asked mildly.

  Megan felt a chill run through her as she saw the way her father’s mouth tightened and the fine lines around his dark eyes deepened.

  ‘As you know, things have been very slow at Pengarw. There’s been no overtime for months and now they’re even starting to lay men off.’

  ‘You mean they’re talking of giving you the sack!’ Megan exclaimed in a shocked voice.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Watkin sighed.

  Kathy Williams frowned. ‘A minute ago you said you were changing your job. Now you’re saying you’ve been laid off. So which is it?’

  ‘One leads to the other,’ he said tersely. ‘It’s the end of the road at the Pengarw Slate Quarry, so I decided to find something else before they decided to sack me.’

  ‘You’re a right one for making a fuss about nothing, and no mistake,’ Kathy exclaimed. ‘Things might only be slack for a month or so,’ she added hopefully.

  Nevertheless, her grey eyes clouded with sudden concern. Watkin had always been a conscientious worker and brought home a regular pay packet. Even though he handed over most of his wages for housekeeping, Kathy often found it hard to manage with their two girls, Megan and Lynn, both still at school, and she knew she’d never be able to make ends meet if he was on the dole.

  ‘Don’t worry. Something will turn up,’ she murmured, as much to console herself as him.

  ‘At my age it’s no good sitting around just waiting for better times or hoping for another job to drop into my lap,’ Watkin said sharply. ‘There’s precious little work going round here which is why I’ve already made up my mind about what I’m going to do. I waited until I’d sorted things out before worrying any of you about how serious things were.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ve got another job?’ Kathy asked.

  Watkin nodded. ‘Yes, I have. I’ll still be driving a lorry, but it means moving back to Liverpool.’

  Kathy’s face lit up and her mood changed immediately from one of concern to one of jubilation. Megan couldn’t ever remember seeing her so excited before.

  ‘We’re going to leave here and go back to live in Liverpool?’ Kathy Williams stared at her husband in delight. ‘Oh, Watkin, how wonderful!’ Her plump, round face creased into a beaming smile. ‘It’s my dearest wish come true! Better than any holiday.’ Impulsively, she hugged her husband and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘You think moving to Liverpool will be a holiday?’ Megan stared at her mother in dismay. ‘I think it sounds more like a life sentence,’ she muttered unhappily.

  She was deeply dismayed by the thought of leaving the slate-roofed stone cottage which clung like a limpet to the rock face at the top of the steep narrow road that led out of Beddgelert. It had been their home for the past five years and she felt distraught at the thought of moving away from the mountains that ringed the picturesque village like friendly giants. Their peaks rose proud against the skyline, pointing a warning when swirling grey clouds threatened rain or snow.

  ‘Our Megan’s got her rag up,’ Lynn chortled, her grey eyes gleaming maliciously as she saw the consternation on her sister’s face. ‘It’s because she doesn’t want to be parted from her boyfriend, Ifan Jenkins,’ taunted Lynn slyly.

  ‘Don’t talk so stupid!’ Megan rounded angrily on the younger girl, her dark eyes fiery, her full mouth a tight line.

  ‘Now, t
hen, there’s no need to carry on like that,’ Watkin reprimanded as Megan pushed her sister away.

  He looked from one daughter to the other in bewilderment. ‘It’s not like you to get yourself so upset, Megan,’ he said uneasily. ‘Come on, now, let’s get on with our meal before everything goes cold.’

  ‘Going back to the ‘Pool will be like a new lease of life,’ Kathy interrupted ecstatically. ‘I can’t believe it! You say we’ll be living right in the heart of the city. That means we’ll be in the thick of things instead of being cut off from the real world and stuck out in the sticks like we are here.’

  Her face was alight with happiness at the thought of big shops, noisy trams, crowds of people and the general bustle that the very name Liverpool conjured up for her.

  Megan sensed that her own outburst had startled her father almost as much as his news had stunned all of them. If only he had warned them about what he was planning to do instead of springing it on them so suddenly. Surely he must have realised how upset she would be by such news?

  She loved the grandeur and tranquillity of North Wales and had always thought he did as well. She was never happier than when the two of them were leaning on the bridge in Beddgelert, watching the crystal clear waters of the River Glaslyn flowing beneath the grey stone arches. Or when they wandered along the river bank, following the Glaslyn as it meandered its way down to Porthmadog and out into Cardigan Bay. As they walked he told her about Taliesin, The Lord Rhys, Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, Owain Glyndwr and all the other Welsh heroes of the past. Wonderful magical stories, a tapestry of folklore and fact.

  ‘In the end, it will be for the best, Megan,’ he assured her earnestly.

  She looked away quickly, afraid he might see the silent accusation in her eyes. She felt so betrayed. She was quite sure he’d hate leaving North Wales as much as she would. Most of all, though, she felt hurt that he’d not confided in her before making such a decision.

  There was a lump in her throat as she looked around her, memorising every item in the stone-flagged room: the two well-used armchairs, one either side of the slate hearth, an oak settle piled with blue cushions, the Welsh dresser with its display of pretty dishes and ornaments. There was a fire in the black-leaded grate despite the August heat, and in front of the polished steel fender was the blue rag-rug she’d helped Granny Williams to make when they’d first come to live with her.

  ‘We can always come back again, if it doesn’t work out,’ her father said placatingly, breaking into her reverie.

  Megan nodded, but she knew they wouldn’t. To return would be a sign of failure. Her father was too inflexible ever to admit defeat.

  A small, wiry man, Watkin Williams had a will of iron. He always stuck by his convictions. If they were wrong then he bore the consequences in silence. Having resolved to leave Beddgelert nothing would bring him back again.

  Most of the other men he worked alongside at the Pengarw Slate Quarry had probably shrugged their shoulders when they’d heard rumours that they might be laid off. When it happened they’d sign on and draw their dole money and make the best of things, but Watkin’s principles wouldn’t allow him to do that.

  He hadn’t mentioned the matter to his family because he regarded it as his responsibility to support them by bringing home a wage packet each week.

  It would have been a waste of time to talk to his wife about such matters. Easy-going, Kathy Williams always took the path of least resistance. Watkin was the one who made all the decisions. She was quite happy to put off anything she considered tedious. If the sun was shining she would cheerfully leave the washing or baking until the next day and take a picnic down to the beach at Porthmadog. Or she would potter around outside in the garden when she should have been making the beds or cleaning the house.

  Watkin tolerated her short-comings without a murmur. If she overcooked the weekend joint, they simply poured thick gravy over it; if she burned the apple-pie then they covered it with custard.

  For all her happy-go-lucky ways, though, they were a united family. Kathy inevitably agreed with whatever her husband said whether she believed he was right or not. And because of this, Watkin always tried to do his very best for her and his two daughters and ensure they were all happy and content.

  Megan, slim, dark haired and dark eyed, was nearest in looks and temperament to Watkin. They thought alike over most things and, like him, Megan was both determined and tenacious.

  Lynn was a replica of her mother. She much preferred to be out with her friends, playing ball or riding a bike, to doing her homework. Megan was the studious one; Lynn rarely took anything seriously.

  Suddenly, Megan felt she couldn’t stand the atmosphere any longer. With a cry that seemed to tear itself from deep inside her, she ran from the house, down the slate-edged gravel path and through the white picket gate.

  ‘Megan … come back here, girl!’

  She heard her father calling after her as she crossed the road, but she took no notice. Climbing over the low stone wall, she ran headlong through the lush summer undergrowth and began scrambling up over the short slippery grass that covered the grey rock face of Moel Hebog. She was hot and breathless by the time she reached a scrub-screened hideout halfway up the mountainside.

  Her mind swirled with memories as she struggled to reconcile herself to the future. Disbelief that her father could have taken such a momentous decision without a word to any of them mingled with despair at the thought of all she would be leaving behind.

  As she made her way up the mountainside she feasted her eyes on the grandeur of the countryside she loved so deeply. The patchwork of fields and forest with the river, a glistening silver thread, snaking along until it became one with the sparkling sea.

  Her father had first brought her to this spot when they’d been visiting his mam, shortly before he’d gone into the army. She’d been seven and it had been a birthday outing, a long-standing promise. Together they had climbed up Moel Hebog, the Hill of the Hawk, and he had showed her this very special cave concealed by an overhanging rock. According to legend, he told her, it was where Owain Glyndwr had hidden when pursued by the English during his rebellion against Henry V.

  Now she felt a greater empathy with Glyndwr than ever before. When they moved to Liverpool she, too, would be losing what she thought of as her real homeland.

  Her father had been born in the tiny stone cottage where they were living now. After the war started in 1914, and they’d heard frightening stories about what might happen in the cities, her father had thought they would be safer here with his widowed mother than in Liverpool.

  Old Mrs Williams had been seriously ill by the time the war ended in 1918 so when Watkin had been demobbed there was no question of returning to Liverpool. He had found work at the Pengarw Slate Quarry and they’d gone on living there even after his mother had died.

  Now, if they moved back to Liverpool, she’d even be separated from Jennie Jones and Gwyneth Evans, who had been her friends since the day she’d first arrived in Beddgelert. Sending letters to each other wouldn’t be the same.

  She wondered whether Ifan Jenkins would keep in touch. They’d been going out together for almost a year now. Not that there was anything serious between them, Megan reflected. Ifan hadn’t exactly swept her off her feet. A few clumsy kisses was as far as she’d ever let him go, but she’d probably miss him.

  Why had her father chosen to go back to Liverpool? she wondered. Surely he could have found work somewhere else nearby. She shuddered. Why was he prepared to leave the peace of the mountains that he loved so much for Liverpool? Was it because it had been her mother’s home and, knowing how much she hated the countryside, he felt he owed it to her to return there?

  After all these years? Surely not!

  They were like a divided camp, thought Megan. Her mother and Lynn were always yearning to be back in the midst of the noise and bustle of city life while she and her father were perfectly content where they were.

  After a long d
ay delivering the heavy lorry loads of slate, the tranquillity of the River Glaslyn drew him like a magnet. She knew he’d miss their walks along its banks and nearby meadows as well as climbing the steep, rutted footpaths of Moel Hebog, with the wind at their back pushing them up the steep incline like a friendly hand.

  She stood up, brushing the short wiry grass from her cotton skirt. It had been childish to run away like that. She’d better go back home and talk to him. After all, she was fifteen now so she’d have to find work in Liverpool, too. It was her future as much as his that was at stake.

  * * *

  ‘Leave her be, Watkin. She’ll come back when she’s hungry,’ called out Kathy Williams as her husband rushed out of the house after Megan.

  He ignored her shout, his booted feet scrunching on the gravel path as he strode towards the roadway.

  Placidly, Kathy continued to dish out their meal.

  ‘Come on, Lynn. There’s no point in this being ruined,’ she reasoned, ladling out a helping of lamb stew and passing it across the table to her youngest daughter.

  ‘Thanks, Mam.’ Lynn smiled as she helped herself to potatoes.

  Before she sat down to eat her own meal, Kathy placed the casserole and the dish of potatoes back in the oven for Megan and Watkin when they returned.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re bothering to keep it warm for them, Mam,’ protested Lynn. ‘They both knew you were ready to dish up.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s because I’m so happy!’ Kathy beamed, her plump cheeks creasing into a smile. ‘I still can’t believe we’re going back to Liverpool. It’s something I’ve dreamed of for years, but I never thought it could possibly happen.’

  The lethargy that had gradually turned her from an active, laughing young woman who loved to dance and enjoy herself into a plodding housewife seemed to slip from her shoulders like a discarded old coat.

  She wondered if Liverpool had changed very much since the war had ended. It was ten years since she’d lived there so it was bound to have done so, she told herself. She’d noticed new shops and buildings when she’d been back on a visit shortly before her own mother had died four years ago. Lynn had been about nine then.