Paradise Lost

By Karen Mason

London 1940, the Blitz is at its worst, and when Daisy Wallis is mortally wounded, she tells her teenage daughter Evie the truth about her father – that he was William, eldest son of Lord Ashleigh of Barnham House – otherwise known as ‘Paradise’. When Daisy dies, Evie’s godmother tells her the true story of how she came to be and makes her promise to keep it a secret.

Fifteen years later and Evie is now thirty and living in London. Her affair with a married man is going nowhere, and her friends are the strippers and prostitutes that frequent the Soho underworld. Into her life comes Peter Salter, the new heir to Barnham House, and Evie sees the chance to escape her seedy life and find happiness in her ancestral home. But a fateful weekend spent at the house changes Evie’s world forever and she begins to ask herself if living in ‘Paradise’ is what she really wants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Mason
• Release date: Oct 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301444915

Karen Mason

Karen Mason (PhD, University of Denver) is associate professor of counseling and psychology at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and a psychologist working in the mental health field since 1990. She previously managed the Office of Suicide Prevention for the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment and is a member of the American Psychological Association. She is the author of When the Pieces Don't Fit: Making Sense of Life's Puzzles.

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Paradise Lost

By Karen Mason

Published by Karen Mason at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Karen Mason

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Also by Karen Mason

Summerset

Mad About the Boy

Two Become One

Winner Takes it All

Mrs Osbourne Regrets

The True Tale of Jezebel Cole

Only You

The Line of Passion Trilogy (Maudie, Kate and Julia)

Never Forget

Scorpio Rising

www.authorkarenmason.wordpress.com

Cover image courtesy of www.stockfreeimages.com

This book is dedicated to Angel Deverell who always dreamt of living in Paradise House

Prologue

December 1940

It was the silence more than anything that got to Evie as she stumbled into what used to be Morrison Street. When she’d left this morning, everything had looked as it always had done. The cobbled road had been littered with discarded children’s carts, and bits of wood taken from the bomb-site on Warwick Way that the boys used as cricket bats. Old women like Mrs Baxter at number twenty six had been standing on their doorsteps, nagging to some poor sap who’d passed by, and not managed to get away in time; and most of all, number seven ‘a’ - the little flat she’d shared with her mother, had been there; waiting for her to come home to.

Even though it was half past four in the morning, the street was filled with people – mainly men, their faces painted black from the ashes, climbing over the wreckage, all working silently. As Evie tried to enter, a man in an ARP uniform came towards her, arms outstretched, trying to prevent her going further into the carnage.

‘Back now miss,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing for you to see. You’d better get yourself to a shelter. We don’t know if there’s going to be another raid.’

‘Where’s my mother?’ Evie panicked. She was trying not to cry, convinced if this elderly man had to deal with her histrionics, he would write her off as a silly girl and send her packing even quicker. ‘I live at number seven. Where’s my mother?’

‘Just wait there,’ he said and he turned and walked off into the rubble. Evie dare not look at it properly. She’d heard so many horror stories from the girls at Prebble’s about how, when their local areas had been raided, they’d found body parts littering the streets for days afterwards.

Evie felt so guilty. She’d let her friend Cathy Gold persuade her to go the Lyon’s corner house in High Holborn, even though they knew the risk of air-raids was high tonight. When the siren had come, they’d been evacuated into the Aldwych Tube Station, where she’d remained until they got the all clear. It was only as she’d walked the couple of miles from Aldwych to Pimlico that she overheard the frightened gasps of those who passed her by, all declaring this had been the Jerries’ worse night yet. The air was filled with the sound of fire bells, as engines raced to get to the worse scenes. In her innocence, Evie had never thought that her home would be hit - stupid really given that a lot of Pimlico had already been struck. The Germans often aimed for Battersea Power Station, or the railway into Victoria, but they would miss and hit the houses on Vauxhall Bridge Road.

She spotted the ARP man heading her way and beside him was Tommy Mulligan, who lived at number two. Even amongst the horror, and the fear that her mother was dead coursing through her veins, Evie still felt herself shrink back at the sight of her neighbour. Tommy was a scruffy, bullish boy who had tormented Evie since they were small children. At school he had often pulled her chair away from her so she’d fall onto the floor; or he’d put worms in her dinner. Once, when she’d been walking down Victoria Street with Shirley Hancock, her best friend, he’d thrown rocks at them from a pile of sandbags. Evie had been so disappointed when his little brother Raymond had been evacuated, and Tommy hadn’t gone with him. Like her, he was fifteen now, and had started work in an armaments factory in Battersea and was needed for the war effort.

‘Y’mum’s gone to hospital Evie,’ Tommy said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His snot causing a white streak to appear in the soot on his face.

‘Which hospital?’ Evie snapped, still not sure if he was lying to her.

‘St Thomas’s. They’ve taken them all there.’

‘Right,’ Evie replied and she suddenly felt woozy. The enormity of everything that had happened got to her and she stumbled. Tommy rushed forward and grasped her by the shoulders.

‘Is she alright?’ the ARP man asked.

‘Yeah, she’ll live,’ Tommy quipped. ‘I’ll look after her.’

The last thing Evie wanted was to be looked after by Tommy Mulligan. He was likely to try and kick her, or take her to the wrong hospital or something. But she felt so weak, so giddy, that she couldn’t refuse. Right at that moment, she needed someone to take care of her.

‘Come on,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. ‘I’ll take you to St Thomas’s.’

He walked off and Evie sort of stumbled beside him. He may have been a ‘working man’ now, but he still looked like such a boy. He still wore short trousers - although Evie guessed that was because his mum Irene couldn’t afford to buy new ones; and all his wages went in his dad’s pocket, to be spent in the pub. His scruffy dark blonde hair was filthy and sticking up on end, and his cheeky face was practically black. Evie guessed most of this was from helping out on the bomb sites, but Tommy never looked clean anyway.

‘Where’s your mum and dad?’ she asked as they walked out of the horror of Morrison Street, to the relative calm of the Embankment. The Thames flowed along, just as it had for hundreds of years - untouched by events around it.

‘They made it to the shelter as soon as the siren came,’ he said.

‘I didn’t see. Did your house get hit?’

‘Yeah, totally flattened,’ he smirked and Evie wondered how he could be happy about it. ‘Mum and dad have gone to stay with Aunty May in Fulham.’

‘Then you should go too.’

‘Nah, I wanted to help out. Mum’s happy cos she reckons old Billington’s gonna have to move us somewhere nice now.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, he’s bound to move us into one of those posh houses in Surrey he’s bought.’

Evie remained silent, but couldn’t help but be sceptical. Their landlord, Mr Billington wasn’t known for his generosity; and just because he’d recently bought a street of houses in Croydon, it didn’t mean he intended it for those who lived in his more ‘basic’ properties in London. Most of the residents down Morrison Street were his tenants and Evie had no idea what was going to happen to any of them now they had nowhere to live. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Her main concern was that her mum was alright.

‘You look nice,’ Tommy said. ‘You been somewhere fancy?’

Evie blushed and remembered the coral pink lipstick she was wearing. Cathy had lent it to her to brighten her face up before they went to the Corner House. She was also in her work uniform of the navy blue blouse and matching skirt, and even though Evie always felt her scruffy, tweed second-hand coat let her outfit down, compared to Tommy, she looked smart.

‘I just went to the Lyon’s Corner House after work,’ she said. ‘We had to go into the Aldwych as soon as the siren went. I didn’t think Pimlico would be hit.’

‘Where do you work then?’

‘Prebble’s the ladies’ outfitters in Holborn,’ she replied.

‘That’s why you always look so pretty when you’re going to work.’

Evie blushed deeply, not used to boys paying her compliments. And it was a shock hearing it from Tommy. He’d always been so vile to her. She didn’t know what to say. It was probably easiest to change the subject, and she did feel bad - flirting with boys when her mum was hurt.

‘So did you see Mum?’ she asked. ‘Was she hurt badly?’

‘Couldn't really see,’ he replied, although Evie caught a sort of evasiveness in his voice, as if he was trying not to answer, and this scared her. ‘I just saw her on the stretcher, and I know the ambulances were going to St Thomas's.’ He looked at Evie and squeezed her shoulder a bit tighter. ‘She'll be okay Evie,’ he said. ‘My Aunt Lucy was caught in a direct hit, and all she got was a broken leg.’

Evie wanted to share Tommy's optimism, and in all fairness, he had seen her mum and saw what sort of state she was in. But Evie couldn't quell her terror. She couldn't go on without her mum. It had always been just the two of them, and the thought of trying to cope alone was unbearable. She was so glad she had Tommy with her; he could at least try and cheer her up a bit and take her mind off things.

After what felt like the longest walk of Evie’s life, they finally reached the mighty hospital on the banks of the Thames, close to Westminster Bridge. A fortress of sandbags surrounded it, and leaning against them were a couple of young female ambulance drivers who were having a cigarette. Tommy wolf-whistled them as he passed and one laughed and reached out, ruffling his hair and calling him a cheeky little bugger. Evie was so nervous she could barely feel her feet as she walked. Being here made it real. Her mum was in there, injured after the house had fallen upon her and she was going to have to be brave and go in face it all.

‘I can’t go in Tommy,’ she fretted before entering the huge wooden doors. ‘What if she’s in a state?’

‘Even if she is, she’ll want to see you won’t she?’ he urged. ‘Go on, go in.’

The hospital resembled Bedlam. Nurses and doctors rushed about the corridors, pushing beds and carrying stretchers. A couple of soldiers sat in uniform, clutching their cut and bleeding heads. Evie wasn’t sure if this was done in the line of duty or they’d been out drinking and fell over. One of them winked at her as she walked past and she guessed he wasn’t that traumatised by what had happened to him.

The two children were found by a kindly-faced nurse who led them up to the third floor, where the injured from tonight’s raid had been taken. Evie was so scared, that when Tommy slipped his hand through hers as they mounted the stairs, she barely noticed and didn’t pull away. When they reached their destination, the nurse turned to face them before she let them go in.

‘Now you two,’ she said in a firm but sweet voice. ‘You’re going to see some things in here that you might find a bit frightening. But don’t be alarmed, everyone is being looked after very well.’

Without saying a word, Tommy squeezed Evie’s hand, and she wondered if he could hear her heart beating. It felt as though it was bursting out of her chest, and she was convinced everyone else would be able to hear it too.

They stepped into the ward and Evie flinched at the horrible smell of burnt clothes, flesh, blood and disinfectant. Screams of pain came from behind a curtain that had been pulled around one of the beds. In another sat a small boy with a bloodied bandage wrapped around a stump at the end of his arm. He stared into space, his eyes fixed in terror, and it upset Evie that he had no one with him. The nurse strode ahead, checking the names on the clipboards that had been placed at the end of each bed. When she stopped, Evie looked away for a second. Scared of what her mother was going to look like.

‘Here we are,’ the nurse said. ‘Here’s your mum.’

Evie dared to look, and was relieved to see her mother looked fine. She was laying in the bed, her pretty face was sooty but not bloodied. But when the nurse stepped up to her, it was a little alarming that those bright blue eyes didn’t focus on her. Instead they stared into space, as if she was somewhere else completely.

‘Now Daisy, your children are here,’ the nurse said, obviously thinking Evie and Tommy were brother and sister. She turned and picked up the clipboard and read it briefly, and Evie was disturbed by the flicker of emotion that showed on her face as she read. She then put it back and addressed the children once more.

‘Your mother’s very poorly,’ she said quietly. ‘She was badly crushed in the explosion, but she’s comfortable now. Just go easy on her.’

‘She will get better won’t she?’ Evie fretted. ‘You are looking after her?’

‘We’re looking after her, yes. Just chat to her. It’ll cheer her up.’

The nurse walked off, and Evie went to the bed. Tommy hesitated, suddenly coy. Wringing his hands together nervously.

‘I think I’ll wait outside,’ he said.

‘You can stay if you want,’ Evie replied.

‘Nah. Your mum might have private things to say to you. I’ll leave you.’

He turned and walked out of the ward, and Evie let him go. She sat on the wooden chair beside the bed and looked at her mum. Daisy still didn’t focus on her, and she seemed to be in a world of her own. Her hand was lying on the blanket, and Evie reached out and took it, squeezing it tightly, feeling the cold soot soak into her own skin.

‘Can you see me Mum?’ Evie asked. ‘I’m here.’

‘E-Evie?’ Daisy uttered, her voice quiet and raspy. ‘My Evie? I can’t see you, it’s so dark.’

Evie let out a sob. She wondered if her mother would be left blinded. It didn't matter if she was. They’d muddle along somehow.

‘I’m going to him,’ Daisy whispered. ‘I’m happy, I’m going to him.’

‘Going to who Mum?’ Evie asked, scared her mother was going mad.

‘William. My beautiful William.’

‘What are you talking about? Do you want me to fetch the nurse?’

‘I’m going to see your father.’

‘My father was called Walter,’ Evie said. ‘And you’re not going to see him. He’s in Heaven.’

‘Your father was called William. William Ashleigh.’

‘Mum you’re delirious, don’t speak. I’ll get a nurse.’

Evie went to get up, but Daisy caught her arm, and with what strength she had left, pulled her back down.

‘Paradise should be yours,’ she rasped, her eyes still focusing in the middle distance. ‘You’re the eldest heir. Paradise should be yours.’

‘No mum,’ Evie laughed nervously. ‘Paradise was the house you worked in when you were a girl.’

‘Priscilla will look after you,’ Daisy said. ‘Priscilla will tell you all about William.’

Evie was so scared, so confused by everything that had happened and still so riddled with guilt about not going home to her mum earlier, that she started to cry. She didn’t know what Daisy was talking about. She’d told Evie that when she was a girl, she'd been a maid at a house in Surrey that was nicknamed ‘Paradise’ because of its fancy, tropical gardens and was owned by Lord and Lady Ashleigh. Then she'd married Walter Wallis and he'd died just before Evie was born. She'd never mentioned anyone called William.

‘I don’t know what you’re saying,’ she sobbed. ‘Please stop it Mum. Rest, you’re tired.’

‘I want you to talk to Priscilla,’ Daisy rambled on. ‘I have to go Evie. I’m so sorry my Evie.’

She stopped talking and her breath started coming in sharp stabs. Finally she closed her eyes and Evie was relieved that her mother was going to sleep. She lived in hope that tomorrow morning she would awaken and be back to her normal self.

As her sobs abated, tiredness took over, and Evie found herself falling asleep. Still holding onto her mother’s hand, she slumped forward, her head resting on the bed. As she dozed off, her last thought was that she hoped Tommy wouldn’t wait for her. He had work in the morning and would need to find somewhere to sleep.

She was awoken by the sensation of someone grasping her shoulders and lifting her up. Opening her eyes, she came-to and realised she was still holding her mother’s hand, and as she looked around, she saw it was a nurse who was easing her away.

‘Come on sweetheart,’ she said softly. ‘It’s too late now.’

Evie looked back at her mother and saw she was still asleep. But her chest wasn’t rising and falling. She was still, and as Evie let go of her hand, it didn’t move, just remained where it was, lying limply at her side.

‘No!’ Evie cried. ‘No it isn’t true. No.’

‘She’s at peace now,’ the nurse said. ‘Come outside and we’ll fetch you a cup of tea.’

‘No!’ Evie screamed, lunging forward and throwing herself across Daisy’s body. ‘No, she isn’t dead.’

‘She’s gone,’ the nurse said. ‘Come on, be a good girl’

The stockily built nurse was far stronger than the petite Evie, and managed to ease her off her mother’s body and bundle her out of the ward and into the corridor outside. Evie saw that Tommy had fallen asleep across some chairs, and when he heard Evie’s sobs, he awoke.

‘Evie?’ he asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

‘My mum’s dead,’ she cried. ‘She’s dead.’

Tommy sat up and Evie slumped beside him. He took her in his arms and held her tightly to him while she cried. She heard the squeak of the nurse’s shoes as she walked away, but she didn’t want her to go and make her a cup of tea, she just wanted her mum back.

‘What am I going to do?’ she asked Tommy. ‘I’m all on my own. I haven’t even got a home.’

‘I’ll look after you,’ he said. ‘I know people. I’ll get you somewhere to live.’

‘I shouldn’t have left her. Why did I agree to go to the Lyon’s Corner House? I’m horrible.’

‘You’re not horrible, you’re entitled to have fun.’

‘But I should have been with her. She wouldn’t have died.’

‘You’d have both died.’ Tommy said softly. ‘Stop being so hard on yourself.’

The nurse returned with a cup of tea and a clipboard, and asked Evie some basic questions about her mother; like her full name and date of birth and their address. She explained that the body would soon be released for the funeral and asked Evie if she had somewhere to go. Evie said she was able to go and stay with her aunt, even though she wasn’t sure if her Aunt Priscilla would take her in. But she didn’t want the nurse to know this. If she thought she was homeless, she could end up in some horrible children’s home or an orphanage. Evie didn’t want that. She wanted to sort things out for herself.

Once the nurse had gone, Tommy took Evie’s tea cup and put it on the floor, taking her cold hands and rubbing them vigorously to warm her up.

‘Where are you gonna go?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘Mum told me to go to my Aunt Priscilla in Surrey. She isn’t even my real aunt, she was just mum’s friend and my Godmother. She might not want me.’

‘Well she ain’t gonna turn you away is she?’

‘I haven’t got any money for the train. I don’t get paid until the end of the week. And what about my job? Mr Prebble will be expecting me in.’

‘He won’t be expecting you to go in will he? Y’ mum’s just died. It’s more important we find you somewhere to live.’

‘Why are you doing all this for me Tommy?’ she cried. ‘You’ve always been so horrible to me.’

‘Maybe it was because I liked you,’ he blushed. ‘You were always the prettiest girl on Morrison Street. I thought if I was horrible to you, you’d notice me.’

‘You’re mad,’ was all she could say.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out a woman’s purse and waving it in front of Evie’s face.

‘And I’ll pay for you to get to Surrey, he said. I’ve got this. It’s full of money.’

‘Where did you get that from?’ she gasped. ‘It’s not your mum’s is it?’

‘I found it on the street, after the bombing,’ he said. ‘No one else took it, so I thought I’d have it.’

‘That could be a dead person’s.’

‘Well they won’t have no need for it will they? There’s enough money in it to get you to Surrey. Come on, let’s go to Waterloo.’

Still in shock and heart-broken, Evie stumbled along after Tommy, and they walked the short distance to Waterloo Station. A sense of disbelief had enveloped her, and she felt as though she was in a dream. At school she was always being told off for gazing out of the window, and not paying attention in lessons; and sometimes at work she would do the same thing. Perhaps she’d drifted off into a daydream in the tube station, and in a minute she'd open her eyes and be back in the huddled mass, surrounded by smelly bodies; babies crying and men using the ticket machines as urinals. She'd be back there and safe in the knowledge that her mum was at home, alive and well.

Evie heard herself telling Tommy that Aunt Priscilla lived in Haslemere, and waited while he got tickets for their train. Early morning commuters - all bleary eyed after a lack of sleep from spending the night in a shelter, swarmed around, oblivious to her misery. She worried about her job. Who would tell Mr Prebble she wasn't coming in? He would be bound to sack her.

Tommy came back, tucking the tickets into his trouser pocket.

‘We're getting the 8.16 train,’ he said. ‘Right, what's your work number? I'll call them and tell them you're not coming in.’

‘You don't have to do that for me...’

‘Shut up. What is it?’

‘Holborn 56329.’

‘Okay, I'll be back in a minute.’

According to Tommy, Mr Prebble was understanding and told Evie to take as long as she wanted. The two children then got on the train to Haslemere. Evie realised she had no belongings with her - they were still buried under the rubble back at Morrison Street. But she didn't care, she just wanted to see a friendly, female face - someone who knew her mum. She'd only met her Aunt Priscilla a few times before. She was always very nice, and far posher than anyone Evie could imagine her mum being friends with. Apparently they’d met when Daisy was working as a maid at Barnham House - the 'Paradise' she'd been rambling about in her dying moments. Priscilla had been governess, and the two girls had hit it off. They'd kept in touch, and Priscilla was even Evie's Godmother. Evie hoped this gave her some sort of legal obligation to look after her. If she had to go back to London, she would rent a room somewhere - she refused to go into a children's home.

By the time they reached Haslemere, the bright winter sun had risen, making the frost on the roofs twinkle, giving the pretty village a picturesque quality. Evie suddenly remembered that she had no idea how to get to Priscilla's house. She had only ever come here with Daisy, and she would always lead the way.

‘Right, where now?’ Tommy asked.

‘I don't know,’ she uttered, a terrifying feeling of helplessness engulfing her. ‘I don't know! Tommy what am I doing? I don't know where I'm going.’

‘Shshh,’ he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. ‘It's okay. What's this lady's surname?’

‘Cray. It's Priscilla Cray.’

‘Alright, well come on then.’

He took Evie's hand and led her into a tiny newsagents close to the station. The shop was so small, the two children filled it, and Evie noticed the old bloke behind the counter viewing them with suspicion - obviously because he didn't recognise them.

‘Morning mate,’ Tommy said. ‘Can you tell me where Mrs Priscilla Cray lives?’

‘What's it to you?’ The man snapped.

‘Her niece here has just lost her mum in a bombing raid up in London and Priscilla's the only family she's got.’

‘How do I know you're telling the truth?’

He wasn't going to help, and Evie's feeling of terror increased. If she couldn't find Priscilla, she had no hope. She started to cry and Tommy went to her, putting his arm around her shoulder.

‘It's alright,’ he said. ‘We'll ask someone else.’

‘She lives at The Beeches,’ the man suddenly blurted out. ‘Turn left and keep on walking for a hundred yards, it the first road on the left you'll come to.’

‘Thanks mate,’ Tommy said. ‘Come on Evie, let's go.’

Evie was unable to stop crying - even though they were now on the right track. The numbness had turned to hysterics and she felt so out of control, Tommy had to practically drag her along the road. They followed the newsagent's directions and as soon as Evie saw The Beeches, she recognised it. The house was so grand and posh. Why would her mum ever think Aunt Priscilla would take her in? She wanted to turn and run, and wondered if Tommy would pay her fare back to London. Maybe she could sleep on a park bench, then find a little bed and breakfast when she got paid at the end of the week.

Still holding onto her, Tommy stepped up to the front door and rang the bell. Through her tears, Evie could just about see the holly wreath on the door, and she wondered how anyone could celebrate Christmas when the world was in the grip of such horror.

The door opened and Aunt Priscilla stood there, dressed in a smart blue utility suit; in the middle of fixing up her long, black hair with Bobby pins - one of which was hanging from her mouth. She almost dropped it when she saw Evie standing there. Propped up against a scruffy young boy, sobbing.

‘Evie?’ she gasped. ‘Evie whatever's happened?’

‘Can we come in missus?’ Tommy asked. ‘Something horrible's happened to Evie's mum.’

‘Come in, come in,’ Priscilla said.

They walked into the hall that smelt of beeswax polish and antique furniture, and Priscilla eased Evie away from Tommy and grasped her by the shoulders, looking her in the eye.

‘Evie are you okay?’ she asked.

‘A bomb fell on their house,’ Tommy said. ‘Mrs Wallis took the worst of it.’

‘She told me to come to you!’ Evie cried. ‘Before she.... She said you'd look after me.’

‘Oh you poor little thing,’ Priscilla said, pulling Evie to her and squeezing her against her bony body. ‘You poor poor thing. And my poor poor Daisy.’

‘You will take care of her won't you missus?’ Tommy asked.

‘Of course I will. And what about you? You look tired and hungry. What's your name sonny?’

‘Tommy. Tommy Mulligan. I'm Evie's friend.’

‘Well why don't you go up to the bathroom Tommy? It's at the top of the stairs. You can have a wash and clean yourself up. I'll get Mrs Brown to make you some breakfast.’

‘Thanks!’ Tommy gasped.

‘I'm going to take Evie up to bed. She needs her rest. She's had a terrible shock.’

Still delirious, Evie was barely conscious of Priscilla helping her up the stairs to the top floor and into the tiny spare room. It had once been part of the attic and the eaves still dropped down low, over the bed. Priscilla helped Evie off with her coat, sitting her down and taking off her shoes and pulling out the pins from her hair so her long, blonde locks fell all over her face. She eased her into the bed and covered her up; then sat beside her, stroking her hair.

‘Get some sleep Evie,’ she said. ‘Don't come down until you feel ready.’

Evie slept for twenty-four hours. The next time she awoke, her watch said it was nearly half past six - the next morning. Her bladder was at bursting point and her bones ached from lying in one position. She got out of bed, and for a moment felt guilty for thinking how much nicer this cosy bedroom was than the small, damp room she shared with her mum back in Pimlico. This then made her feel bad. She'd give anything to have Daisy back, and to sleep in that horrible room once more.

She got up and ran down to the bathroom on the next floor. As she emptied her aching bladder, a feeling of desolation swept over her. She wondered what Priscilla had thought about her sleeping in for so long. And Tommy? What had happened to him?

That question was answered, when Evie left the bathroom and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. Tommy was coming back down again. This time looking much smarter and cleaner. Evie guessed that the pair of long trousers he was wearing belonged to Stephen, Priscilla's son who was about the same age. That unruly honey-coloured hair was slicked down and parted on the side; and she could actually see the freckles on his face, rather than just dirt.

‘Morning Evie,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Tired. How come you're still here?’

‘Mrs Cray let me stop over in the little room at the back of the house. What do you think of the trousers? They're Stephen's?’

‘You’ve met everyone?’

‘Yeah, I spent all day yesterday here. I got to go now though. Mrs Cray phoned Mr Vine at the factory and said I'd not be in yesterday, but he's expecting me in today. Got to catch the six fifty five train.’

Evie walked up the stairs so they were level. She was so grateful for everything he'd done, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him tightly.

‘Thank you so much Tommy,’ she cried. ‘I'll never forget this. Please say you'll come and see me again.’

‘Course I will,’ he said, rubbing her back. ‘You look after yourself.’

‘Come to the funeral. I'll write to you at the factory and tell you where it is.’

Tommy pulled away and kissed Evie on the cheek.

‘I wish you weren't gonna be living so far away,’ he smiled. ‘I'd ask you to be my sweetheart.’

‘Maybe when we're older. When I come back to London.’

‘I'll hold you to that. Come on, I want to say bye to Mrs Cray.’

Tommy took Evie's hand and led her downstairs to the cosy kitchen at the back of the house. Mrs Brown, the chubby housekeeper with a shock of white hair, was at the cooker making breakfast, while Priscilla and Stephen sat at the table, drinking tea. As far as Evie remembered, Charles, Priscilla's husband ran his own building company down in Portsmouth and no doubt had already left for work. On seeing Evie and Tommy, Priscilla stood up and clasped her bony hands together.

‘Evie,’ she gasped. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘A little better,’ she replied quietly. ‘Thank you Aunt Priscilla.’

‘And don't you look smart Tommy?’

‘Yes thank you Mrs C. I'll send you the money for the trousers.’

‘Don't be silly, take them with my blessing. They were getting too short for Stephen anyway.’

Evie glanced at Stephen - who was tall, dark and rangy - the spitting image of his mother. And when he rolled his eyes at what Priscilla had said, it made her chuckle.

‘I'm quite aware my son is making faces behind my back,’ Priscilla sighed, pretending to be angry. ‘Just ignore him.’

She held her hand out to Tommy and he shook it.

‘Nice to meet you and thanks for letting me stay.’

‘It was a pleasure. Keep in touch Tommy.’

‘I will, I promise.’

Tommy once more kissed Evie on the cheek, wished her luck and ran out. For a moment Evie felt as bereft without Tommy by her side, as she had when she'd lost her mum.

It took three days before Evie started to feel more 'normal' again. She spent most of her time in bed, visited by Mrs Brown and Priscilla. On one occasion Stephen came in and asked her if she wanted to go for a snowball fight, but Evie had been so wrapped up in her own world, she hadn’t even noticed that it had snowed; and although she declined Stephen's offer, when she looked out of her bedroom window, she couldn’t help but feel a sense