Secrets and Shadows

By Evelyn Orange

In 1940, a young woman makes a decision that will have repercussions for generations to follow...
on the eve of v.e. day 1945, six-year-old alexandra graham is torn from her comfortable wartime existence in scotland, to begin an uneasy new life with her mother and a strange stepfather in sheffield. as the years go by, she adapts to her new environment. But when she is fifteen alexandra finds a lost family in the north-eastern ship-building town of sunderland. this leads to a shocking discovery that casts a shadow over all her life to come. it threatens the love she finds, and makes her doubt her very identity. she must travel a long road paved with hope and despair, as she searches to uncover the truth and find the fulfilment that she desires.
set in northern england, london and scotland, secrets and shadows is the story of two women following their hearts, and learning that running away is not always the answer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Orange
• Release date: Jul 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301428953

Evelyn Orange

Evelyn Orange was born in north-east England. After studying for a degree in music and English literature, she became a music librarian in London. Music and writing have always been strong influences in her life. She left London to become a music teacher in Hertfordshire, before finally returning to her native north-east England. Melody for Lizzie, a novel inspired by her love of theatre, music and history, was published in book form in 1995. Dance of Danger, a romantic suspense novel, was published by My Weekly Pocket Novels in 2013. She has also had short stories and articles published.

Book preview

Secrets and Shadows

by

Evelyn Orange

Copyright © by Evelyn Orange 2013

All Rights Reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Published by Evelyn Orange at Smashwords 2013

Cover photographs:

Photo of young woman: www.dreamstime.com

Photo of tram outside Sunderland Station: Allan Edwards

Secrets and Shadows

In 1940, a young woman makes a decision that will have repercussions for generations to follow...

On the eve of V.E. Day 1945, six-year-old Alexandra Graham is torn from her comfortable wartime existence in Scotland, to begin an uneasy new life with her mother and a strange stepfather in Sheffield. As the years go by, she adapts to her new environment. But when she is fifteen Alexandra finds a lost family in the north-eastern ship-building town of Sunderland. This leads to a shocking discovery that casts a shadow over all her life to come. It threatens the love she finds, and makes her doubt her very identity. She must travel a long road paved with hope and despair, as she searches to uncover the truth and find the fulfilment that she desires.

Set in northern England, London and Scotland, Secrets and Shadows is the story of two women following their hearts, and learning that running away is not always the answer.

For my husband, my own hero

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Blurb

Dedication

Prologue

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

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Epilogue

About the author

By the same author

Alexandra 2013

Prologue

Stop! Stop here!

She gripped the door handle to steady herself as the taxi driver pulled up smartly in front of a cream painted hotel on the sea-front esplanade.

No, I meant, in the hotel car park. Alexandra’s heart was beating so fast that she could hardly speak.

This isn’t your hotel.

I know. But I want to stop here.

He sighed resignedly. Fine, it’s your call.

The car passed between the pillars and drew up in a parking space. Alexandra wondered if she would have the courage to open the door. Then she took a deep breath. Wait here, she instructed.

The salt-laden air burst upon her as she emerged stiffly from the taxi. The sea, grey and forbidding despite the summer season, roared in her ears. She had forgotten how exhilarating the moods of the ocean could be. Pressing one hand to her chest, she could feel her heart beating wildly. She paused for a moment to fasten her scarf over her hair. Who would recognise me now, a white-haired old lady, she thought as she crossed the road to stand at the promenade wall.

The wind whipped over the breakers, stirring up the waves until they crashed against the lighthouse. Inside the protective arm of the pier, the grey water was calmer. A cargo vessel was leaving the harbour, but apart from that the river was quiet. Below her, by the beach, was a watersports centre. Two figures in wetsuits were packing up windsurfing equipment, their transparent jewel-bright sails reminding her of dragonflies’ wings. She closed her eyes, inhaling the tang of seaweed, and let herself believe that at last she was back in the town of her birth.

City, she corrected herself. Sunderland’s not a town any more. And how it had changed in the last fifty years! She had asked the taxi driver to drive her to the hotel via the river. Although he had to take a tortuous route through the one-way system, she had seen enough of the River Wear to realise that all the ship industry had vanished. There was now a university, and signs to the National Glass Centre.

Turning her back on the ocean, at last she faced the hotel. Amazing that it was still here, and looking smart after all these years. If she had not been there that night, her life would have been so different. The roaring of the sea and the shrill cries of the sea birds faded as the memories suddenly transported her back fifty years. There was music from a dance band, compelling her feet to rise and fall. Her rose-coloured taffeta dress swirled round her as she danced, held by strong arms. In the mirrors she could see that the ballroom lights gilded the ripples of her hair with every dip and turn of her body. She was laughing, carefree, lost in the joy of the evening. A cameo of happiness before her life descended into utter turmoil.

Returning to the windswept promenade of today with a shiver, she thrust the memories from her mind. Enough for now. Time to ponder when she reached her destination.

The taxi driver switched off the jangling music from his radio when she climbed back into the warmth of the car. A scent of vanilla from an air freshener lingered in the air, sickly after the freshness of the sea air.

You can take me to my hotel, now.

Finally in the comfort of her room, Alexandra stood in the picture window overlooking the turbulent sea. She acknowledged that she had always felt an undercurrent of dread when she thought about Sunderland. But the time had finally come when she needed to face the past.

Picking up her mobile phone, she pressed the keys slowly so that her bent fingers would hit the right numbers. Her call was answered almost immediately.

Hello, Emma. It’s me.

The voice on the other end was almost a shriek. Mum! Where are you? We’re all frantic with worry!

I’m in Sunderland, at the hotel.

There was a brief gasp. But you said you wouldn’t come to the wedding!

I’m sorry I distressed you. But I didn’t know whether I could face coming back after all these years, until I was actually here. There were some things…that I had to come to terms with. And I think that now I have.

I never know what you’re going to do next, Mum. Why can’t you be like other women of your age, content with knitting or reading?

Alexandra gave a curt laugh. You always said that when you were a little girl. She took a deep breath. Emma…I…I know I’ve not been the best of mothers. But if you can spare some time for me tomorrow after you arrive, I’d like to tell you some of the things I couldn’t talk about before. It might help you understand.

She could visualise Emma’s confusion from the sharp intake of breath at the other end of the phone. After all this time…why now?

Max is my grandson, and he’s marrying a girl from my home town. He may come across people who knew me all those years ago – and he might even meet someone who knows the truth. I’ve come to realise that the world has changed from when I was young, and that you’ll see things differently from the way I did. I want to be honest with you all, and hope that you’ll understand why I found it difficult to talk about the past. The time for secrets is over.

Well, Mum, you’re always full of surprises. All right, I can manage to leave a couple of hours earlier. David’s finishing work at lunchtime. We’ll leave as soon as we can. But, Mum – do take care.

I will. I’ll be waiting for you.

She closed the phone. Now she would have to decide how to relate the whole story to her daughter. It would be like reopening a wound – but she needed to do that to bring about healing. Looking out of the window, she let herself remember.

It was only a few days before my sixth birthday when my world changed…

Alexandra – 1945

Chapter 1

Yes? What do you want?

Alexandra clutched her mother’s hand tightly at the sound of the harsh voice, gazing up at the large lady who had answered their knock.

My name is Kathleen Graham, and this is my daughter Alexandra. I’m a friend of Sergeant Reg Witton. Is…is it possible to speak with him?

Allie shrank as the woman’s penetrating gaze raked her. Several hairs sprouted from her chin. My son is at our business now. I’ll tell him you called, and maybe he’ll get in touch with you. She made to close the door, but Kate put out her gloved hand and pressed against it in resistance.

Oh, please Mrs. Witton – we’ve come such a long way. We travelled all the way to Sheffield from Scotland yesterday. Could you give me the address of the business?

The woman sniffed. He won’t want you disturbing him at the shop. Oh, very well, you can come in and wait for him. He and his father are due home for their midday meal in about half an hour.

Allie could feel her mother’s hand trembling as they entered a gloomy hallway with a strip of thin carpet, patterned with some indeterminate design. The child wrinkled her nose at the smell of cabbage. They were shown into a cold parlour. Light filtering through the half-drawn curtains illuminated a heavy brown three-piece suite, overlaid with crocheted antimacassars and arm rests. There was a tall fireplace with a tapestry firescreen in front of the empty grate. Allie’s eyes widened as she took in the ornamental china that seemed to cover every surface, dishes of every size, figurines, bowls, and even the beige wallpaper was hung with larger plates. In the corner was a polished cabinet filled with silverware.

I’ll get my woman to bring you some tea, Mrs. Witton announced, though her mouth was turned down at the corners, clearly begrudging any hospitality. Will some milk do for the child?

Kate thanked her profusely, though when the offerings arrived, brought by a small woman in a faded pinny, the tea was virtually colourless, and the glass was only a quarter filled with milk.

Mrs. Witton poured the tea. Then she sat back to examine the two visitors.

So, Mrs. Graham – I assume it is Mrs., she added as an afterthought.

Of course, Allie’s mother snapped. I’m a respectable widow!

The other woman raised her heavy eyebrows, then continued. How do you come to know my son?

Sergeant Witton was convalescing from his wounds in Braeside House on Loch Multyre. I met him there. Some of us used to go from the town of Rossbank to the dances.

Mrs. Witton pinched her lips. And what happened to your husband, Mrs. Graham?

He was a fighter pilot – he died in 1940. Allie and I went to Rossbank to escape the bombs.

So what is your business with my son? Her voice was hard with suspicion.

Before Kate could answer, there was the sound of the front door opening, and male voices in the hallway. Mrs. Witton stood up quickly. Excuse me.

Reginald, would you come in here, please? You have a visitor.

She stood to one side to allow a large, dark-haired man to enter the room. He paused, his mouth open, his face growing red when he saw the visitor. Then he found his voice. Kate! Kate, is it really you?

He rushed forward, and sank to one knee beside them, reaching out to take Kate’s hand. Allie gazed in consternation at this stranger. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about her. She reached forward to place the empty glass on the corner of the table. Then she looked up. No, not everyone had forgotten her. Mrs. Witton still held her in her cold gaze, frowning. The glass fell from her fingers and shattered on the floor.

*

Why are we living here, Mummy? I thought we were going back to where we used to live before the war.

Kate lifted a dress from the suitcase, opening the creaking wardrobe door. Despite her efforts to clean the furniture with a damp cloth, it still smelt dusty, and the doors were stiff. Sunderland. Well, we’re not, we’re staying here.

Why aren’t we going back to live with Granny and Grandpa?

Kate turned sharply. I told you, Granny and Grandpa have gone to heaven.

Why did they do that?

Her mother sighed. Because when people die they go to heaven, and they can’t come back. Allie, you’re a big girl now, nearly six, and you know that’s where Daddy is.

Allie pouted, pushing a pair of socks with her toe. I don’t like that lady.

You’ll get used to her. Put those socks in that drawer. Kate reached for another coat hanger, and continued with her unpacking.

What’s in here? Allie stroked the polished wooden box, one foot square, that nestled amongst the clothes in the suitcase.

Nothing that would interest you, Allie. Just a load of boring old papers. Kate reached over and lifted it out, pushing it unceremoniously in the bottom of the wardrobe. Allie realised that she had lost the argument, and looked out of the window, sucking her thumb.

Their new bedroom, the larger attic room at the top of the Wittons’ house, didn’t have the lovely view of the loch and green hills that there had been in Scotland. Instead it looked out on to streets of dark houses, with more traffic than she had ever seen in her life. This was such a noisy place. She couldn’t even hear any birds singing in the back garden, a tiny strip of green lawn surrounded by a brick wall. They clearly hadn’t been Digging for Victory during the war. At the boarding house in Rossbank they’d had a huge vegetable patch.

This lack became very obvious when they sat down for their first meal together on the Sunday evening. Kate had only been able to collect their ration books from the hotel when they left that morning, so there was no meat provision for them. When Mrs. Witton served up the meal, there was a tiny portion of stew each for Kate and Allie, with a spoonful of mashed potato. A few flecks of orange carrot floated in the greasy gravy.

To be eaten with the finest Sheffield cutlery. Reg’s father, Ernest, spoke with pride as he pointed to Made in Sheffield on the side of his knife. The best knives and forks in the world are made in this city.

Allie turned a blank face to him, not understanding this eulogy. Ivy Witton merely pressed her lips together and applied the praised knife and fork to cutting through the gristle on the meat. Dessert was a parsnip and ginger pudding, under the guise of mock banana pudding. Allie took one mouthful and began to cough.

Is something wrong with it? Ivy’s voice dared them to voice any criticism.

No, no, it’s…lovely. We haven’t had this before, have we, Allie? Kate tried to cover their distaste.

Allie shook her head. I’m not hungry, Mummy, she whispered, putting down her spoon on the chenille tablecloth.

It’s all very new for her, Kate blustered.

That’s all right. She’ll soon settle in, won’t you? Reg had a big beaming smile on his face. Kate laughed uncertainly.

So what do think about Reg going to be your daddy? Ivy demanded of Allie. Her face was set in lines of grim displeasure.

The child looked up at her, puzzled. But I’ve already got a daddy.

Ivy turned in shock to Reg and Kate. But you said…you are a widow, aren’t you?

Yes, of course I am. She didn’t mean…Her daddy died.

The little girl nodded. In the war.

Have you told her that you’re getting married? Ivy demanded.

You can’t rush these things with a young child. Please, leave me to tell my own daughter when I judge the time is right! Kate’s voice was becoming heated.

Well, you rushed into this fast enough! Reg never even mentioned you before you turned up on the doorstep. It makes me wonder…

Mother!

Ivy!

Allie knocked her spoon off the table with a clatter, her whole body trembling.

Kate stood up. I think we’d better go to our room now. Please excuse us. A strained silence accompanied their departure.

Allie began to cry long before they had climbed the last stairs to the attic. Once in her room, she climbed on her mother’s knee and buried her head in her mother’s worn wool cardigan.

*

Celebrations for Victory in Europe postponed the prospect of school for Allie for a few days. As it was her birthday on Saturday, Mummy and Reg took her to Endcliffe Park for the afternoon, then they took a tram to the city centre for tea.

Why are so many buildings knocked down, Mummy? From the tram they could see several areas of rubble, surrounded by advertising hoardings.

Reg answered. Sheffield was badly bombed during the war. It’s going to take some time to rebuild the shops.

Allie felt a tremor of fear. Will there be any more bombs?

No, darling. Her mother hugged her. The bad men have all been stopped now. That’s why we had the street party last week, don’t you remember?

Allie nodded, mollified for the moment. When Reg took them to Cole Brothers department store for tea, she gasped at the huge trams, buses and vans whizzing across the tramlines at the vast crossroads on the corner. There was a policeman in a white coat waving his arms around, and it seemed miraculous that he wasn’t run over.

My parents always brought me here for birthday tea as a young boy, Reg stated proudly as they entered the imposing Victorian store. Thanks goodness it survived the Blitz – we lost Atkinson’s and Walsh’s, but hopefully they will be rebuilt soon.

But on Sunday night Allie remembered that it was school the next day, and she wouldn’t know anyone. Her heart plummeted. Curling her knees up to her chest, she hugged Jack, her knitted airman doll, inhaling his familiar smell. He reminded her of home – of Rossbank, of Jeannie, and the big house with the old ladies. Tears slithered down her cheeks, soaking his woolly uniform. When Kate arrived to tuck her in, she exclaimed in consternation.

Oh, Allie, don’t cry. You’ll have a lovely time at school.

Mummy, why can’t we go back to Rossbank? I don’t like this house. I don’t like Granny Witton. And I don’t like my new daddy. There had been no men at the house in Rossbank – only the two old ladies and the Land Girls. Davy, one of the evacuees, had been the only male, and he was just a boy. Reg’s deep voice and stubble were disconcerting to her.

Kate pulled her into her arms. Of course you like him, darling. He’s a really nice man.

Allie sobbed louder. No, I don’t want to stay here. I hate all the bombed places. I want to go home!

But this is our home, darling.

No it’s not! Allie flung the doll across the room. It caught a dish of hairpins on the dressing table, sending it crashing to the floor.

Kate took her shoulders and gave her a shake. Now look here! I’m marrying Reg, and we’re going to be a family. We don’t have a choice! Do you realise what I’m saying, Allie? This is our home. We don’t have anywhere else to go.

Allie stuck her thumb into her mouth, turning away from her mother and curling into a ball. Kate had never spoken to her like that before. She gave a little sob. A few moments later, the woolly doll was pushed into her hands, and her mother’s arms came round her. They stayed like that until she fell asleep.

*

The night before the wedding, Allie woke up from a troubled dream, about a monster that was looking for her, and if she didn’t keep quiet he would find her. It took her a few moments to realise that she was awake, looking at the dim shape of the curtains outlining the window. Then she became aware of a muffled sound beside her. Turning her head, she could see the mound beneath the bedclothes that was her mother in the double bed next to her. Suddenly, she realised what the strange noises were.

Her mother was crying, stifling the sound beneath the bedclothes. Allie felt frightened, a different fear to what she had felt in her nightmare, as she knew that this was real, and she had never heard her mother cry before. She clenched her hands, closing her eyes tightly to try and shut out the noise. After a while, silence returned, and Allie’s heartbeat resumed a normal rate. But she lay awake for a long time, filled with a feeling of dread that she didn’t understand.

Chapter 2

The five long years they spent living with Granny and Grandpa Witton were difficult. Allie never felt comfortable in that dull, brown house, afraid of Granny Witton’s sharp voice saying Don’t touch that, girl! every time she was in her presence. The child often wondered why her mother married Reg, as they never demonstrated any affection openly. Her friend Pamela’s parents would brush lips occasionally, or touch each other with love. Reg never acted like a father to her, either, always seeming awkward if they were alone together. Maybe Allie wouldn’t have felt so lonely if her mother hadn’t lost two babies early in pregnancy. It might have been nice to have a little brother or sister.

When Kate announced she was taking on the bookkeeping and other office work for Witton’s shop, Allie was worried that it would be too much for her. She had looked so pale and thin since losing the last baby, a few months before Allie’s eleventh birthday. But six months later, when her mother came to collect her from her dancing class, Allie had to acknowledge that she looked so much happier. The new navy tweed suit with its narrow skirt and fitted jacket suited her.

Kate unlocked the front door. You can get on with your homework while I make the meal. In Kate’s shopping bag was a steak and kidney pie that they had bought at the butcher’s on the way home.

Allie hung up her coat. Are we eating with Granny and Grandpa Witton tonight?

No, Reg is coming home late so they decided to eat early.

Relief washed over her. She reached into the bag to take out the pie, but instead found an object wrapped in brown paper.

What book did you buy, Mum? Since going back to work, Kate had treated herself each week to a book from the bookshop near Witton’s.

Allie loved books, and began to unwrap the paper. But she was startled when her mother snatched it from her hands. You wouldn’t be interested – it’s a book of poems. Poems for adults. Kate folded the paper back round the cover and put the book on the table beside her handbag. Go upstairs and get on with your homework. If you finish before we eat, you can draw a picture after tea.

This promise did nothing to allay Allie’s disquiet at her mother’s sharpness. She tried to put it from her mind as she ran upstairs quickly. At least she would be spared another stiff meal under Granny Witton’s critical eye.

As they were on their own, they ate in the kitchen at the table set with a yellow and green checked oilskin cloth. The poetry book had disappeared, and no more was said about it. Kate doled out potatoes and cabbage to go with the pie, handing the first portion to Reg, who looked rumpled after a long day, his face blue with stubble. Normally they ate in silence, so Allie nearly dropped her fork when Reg cleared his throat. Petrol rationing is finishing. What do you think about getting a car? There’s a nice Morris Minor for sale at the garage near the shop.

Kate gave him a long stare. Why would we need a car, Reg?

Well, he blustered, We could go to work in it, and maybe have some days out in the Peak District.

Just as Kate was about to reply, the door burst open and Granny Witton stalked into the kitchen. Hello, dear. She dropped a kiss on Reg’s slicked hair, at which he squirmed and turned red. Father and I thought we’d have a cup of tea. Ignoring Kate and Allie, she took the kettle from the hob and began to fill it at the sink. She asked him about his day at work while she took the cups and saucers from the cupboard, and found the teapot and tea caddy.

Once she had filled a tray, disregarding Kate’s blistering silence, she headed for the door. Well, then, Reg, open the door for me!

Jumping to his feet, he did as he was ordered, then returned to the table. He looked at his wife’s mutinous face, then threw his knife and fork down on the now cold meal.

It would be nice to be able to eat our meal in peace. Kate’s voice was terse. We’ve been living here for five years. It’s time we were a proper family in our own house, where I can have my own kitchen. I’d like that far more than the odd day out in Derbyshire.

Reg’s eyes looked as if they were bulging from his face. Was he going to shout at her mother? But after a few moments he nodded. You’re right. It’s time we moved out of here. Maybe we could afford a little terraced house with your extra money.

Kate gave him a warm smile, and Allie’s spirits lifted. To be free of Granny Witton at last!

Their dream came true three months later, when they moved into a small Edwardian terraced house nearer Allie’s new secondary school. But despite Kate’s words, they never seemed to be a real family, as Reg began spending more time away from home. First it was Saturday evenings meeting friends to mull over Sheffield United’s match, and once the summer came, discussing Yorkshire’s cricket scores. Soon he was seeing these friends during the week as well, and never offered to take Kate with him. But somehow the evenings that she and Allie spent together, playing games, or on Allie’s favourite pastimes, dancing and drawing, felt comfortable and peaceful. It never occurred to her that her mother might want more from their family. When sadness sometimes crossed Kate’s features, Allie would suggest a game or ask about a book that her mother had been reading, to distract her.

*

As time went by, new electrical gadgets found their way into the Wittons’ home. First a cooker, then the latest washing machine, and just before the Coronation of the new Queen, a spanking new television set. Allie brought Pamela round to have a look at it. There were strict rules about how often it would be switched on. The two girls gazed at the small figures moving around on the tiny black and white screen, while Kate fiddled with the volume knob.

There! What do you think about that?

It’s great! But I don’t think my dad would ever get us one. He thinks the radio is the best. Pamela twirled her long dark plait round her hand as she studied the television. The sound’s not up to much, is it? He’d miss his concerts.

Do you think your parents would like to come and see the Coronation next month? Kate asked. We’re having our neighbours in, but we could easily fit in a few more chairs.

Mum would love that. I don’t know about Dad, though. I think he’d prefer to spend a quiet time in the garden, if the weather’s nice. He says it’s a lot of fuss, and attending the pageant will be quite enough. Both the girls were involved in a historical pageant put on by the school. There were events on most days, such as parties and plays, so it would be a full week.

Kate smiled. She knew that Pamela’s father didn’t like big crowds. Well, we’d be happy to have all of you, but just bring your mother, if you like.

Thanks, Mrs. Witton.

On the day of the Coronation, the school was closed for a national holiday. Kate was up early to make meat paste sandwiches, cutting the cakes she had baked the day before, and fussing about whether the house looked smart enough. She changed into a new dress that she had made herself in a dark blue printed fabric with a full skirt and a pretty neckline.

As Kate whipped out the carpet sweeper again to take up some crumbs from the rug beneath the table, Reg sighed in exasperation. I don’t know why you’re in such a dither. They won’t be looking at the house, they’ll be watching the television.

Of course they’ll look at the house. That’s what people do when they visit others, even if it’s not obvious. And the bathroom must be spotless.

He stood up, pushing aside one of the new red cushions his wife had made to liven up their ugly utility suite. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going out for a while. He tapped out the contents of his pipe in the fireplace.

Reg…? You can’t go out, not now! Everyone will be arriving soon. What will they think if you’re not here?

They won’t be at all bothered, I’m sure. I need to get some air. At that, he took his jacket and went out of the front door. Allie stood at the top of the stairs, watching her mother. Kate stood wringing her hands and biting her lip, that frown between her brows that never seemed to smooth out, these days. Taking a deep breath, Allie hurried downstairs.

Should I make the orange juice yet, Mum? She came to stand at her mother’s side, slipping her arm into hers. At fourteen, Allie was as tall as her mother.

What? Oh, oh no, not yet, darling. Wait until it’s time to eat. It won’t take a minute. Kate smiled at her daughter, stroking the fair curls. The moment of unease had passed.

Nine visitors arrived, including Pamela with both of her parents, to everyone’s surprise. Mr. Newlyn said, It’s not every day we have a new queen crowned, and joined in the merriment with everyone else. The one person who didn’t join in was Reg – he never appeared at all.

It was late in the evening when he returned home. Kate and Allie had long since washed up the dishes and replaced all the chairs. They were playing a game of cards together when they heard his key in the door.

Kate stood up, her face mutinous. Stay here, Allie.

Allie sat for a few moments, hearing the murmur of voices. Gradually the volume increased, until she could hear every word.

I’ve never been so embarrassed! All those guests, and you never showed your face at all!

Oh, come off it, Kate. They’re your friends, not mine!

They’re our neighbours, Reg. What must they think?

They should mind their own bloody business. I let them watch my telly – and eat my food – they should be grateful.

…And I can smell the drink on you! I suppose I should be glad you didn’t come back until they’d gone.

Oh, shut up, Kate! You’ve got a hell of a tongue on you. A man only wants peace in his own home, and I get precious little of that. I’m going to bed.

Allie felt her resentment of