You Only Love Twice

By Ruth Lowry

Becky Archer’s young life has not been an easy one, growing up on a run-down council estate in the town of Benford in Kent and having to support her mother, brother, and sister after the death of their father. She dreams of a better life in the beauty industry in London.

A chance meeting with a client—the eccentric Pauline Coldwell—changes her life forever. She ends up working in the heart of Mayfair; and her new boss, the enigmatic Mario Bianchi, quickly becomes her lover. And with that, brings a life of adventure . . . and danger. A newly acquired friend and confidant, James Burton, becomes embroiled in matters out of his control. He has fallen for Becky but doesn’t realise the power of Mario.

This is the story of Becky Archer from teenage to adulthood and how she copes with the temptation of love and the perils of jealousy and deceit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Mar 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728380773

Ruth Lowry

Ruth Lowry lives in Kent with her husband, Sean, and Teddy the dog. She has two sons, a daughter and four beautiful grandchildren. Ruth was in the beauty industry for over 30 years, but now spends most of her time writing, which has become her passion. Last Betrayal is her third book; her imagination clearly has no bounds. She likes socialising and enjoys a cold glass of fizz to help with the inspiration of bringing the characters she writes about to life.

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© 2019 Ruth Lowry. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/06/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-8078-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-8079-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-8077-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Part 2   Ten Years Later

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

Dedication

For my amazing family and special friends who inspire me with their love and strength.

Becky Archer trades her small town life for a fancy career in the big city, where she finds love but also unexpected peril when her dreams threaten to become nightmares.

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Chapter 1

The year was 1966, and in the town of Benford in Kent, a young girl’s life was about to change dramatically. Becky Archer could not have ever imagined in her wildest dreams where her destiny would lie; she was just an ordinary girl with fairly big hopes and dreams, and generally they didn’t come true—well, not for girls like Becky. Or did they?

***

Becky was halfway through her beautician’s course at the local college; she was an ambitious young girl who knew exactly what she wanted out of life She was going to be a make-up artist to the stars, or at least that’s where her dreams took her. In reality Becky lived on the wrong side of town, on the notorious Palm Tree Gardens estate—a run-down council block whose name did not match its appearance or reputation. She shared the dismal flat with her mum, Sandra; younger sister, Amy; and her four-year-old brother, Jake. Becky adored her family—especially her mum. It had been so hard for them all ever since Becky could remember. Peter, her father, had left them when Jake was just a tiny baby. Becky had known from a very young age that he was bad news. A drunk and a gambler, also a complete womanizer, he was just an all-round nasty piece of work, and she knew they were all better off without him even if Sandra had struggled initially.

Sometimes Becky relived the most dreadful moment of her life. She’d been just thirteen years old when she saved Sandra’s life from an overdose—a cocktail of pills and whisky. Thankfully she’d alerted a neighbour, who called an ambulance, and they got her to the hospital in the nick of time.

Poor Amy had been oblivious to what had been going on around her; she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of their small black-and-white TV, watching an episode of Captain Pugwash whilst Jake screamed his head off in his cot.

Becky walked straight into the lounge, as she did every night after school, to find her mother slumped in the armchair. Initially she thought she was dead. It still made Becky’s blood run cold when she recalled seeing the lifeless body, dishevelled and drained of colour. Sadly Sandra’s admittance into hospital had meant a barrage of meetings between social workers and foster carers, who all thought it best that the children went into care whilst their mother recuperated not just physically but mentally as well. Becky was distraught at the prospect of being separated from her siblings. She knew Sandra had not taken Peter’s leaving them particularly well, but her inability to cope with her own children had been hard for Becky to comprehend.

However, she was a very mature girl for her age, and she understood that their mother needed time. She begged the social worker to place them all together with a foster family. Mrs Hodges, the kindly social worker, worked her magic and managed to place the three of them with the Fords, who were happy to take all of them, as it would only be short-term.

Becky obviously hadn’t wanted the arrangement at all, but she’d had little choice, and the Fords were quite nice to them as long as they behaved. Jake found it the hardest, as he was just a baby who missed his mummy. Becky was the only one that could comfort him at times. Thankfully Mrs Ford didn’t mind; actually, she seemed more than happy to let Becky take on the role of mother, so that’s exactly what she did.

The three children became closer every day, and it gave Sandra a boost just to see how close they had become in her absence. Although her meetings with them had been supervised, she knew in her heart they would be together again soon.

In actual fact, it was eight months before they were reunited—just in time for them to celebrate Becky’s fourteenth birthday. Fortunately the council agreed that Sandra was to keep her flat because of the circumstances; her still having three children under sixteen was a deciding factor. That very first day back in their home was such a joyous occasion, Sandra was almost glowing; she looked so well. Shirley, their next-door neighbour, had been in and spring-cleaned the flat the day before they came home, and it smelled of bleach and furniture polish. It was such a good feeling to be home and together again at last.

Although Sandra hadn’t had a lot of money, she’d still managed to put together a lovely birthday tea for Becky. She deserved it as her rock. She didn’t know what she’d have done without her in the past months.

There was a little pink-and-white sponge birthday cake and a few fancy bits, as Sandra called them, and as far as Becky was concerned, it was the best day ever. Everything was going to be fine. They were a family once again, and Sandra was looking better than she had for years.

***

Becky’s real loves had always been fashion and music, so one Saturday she took herself down to the precinct in the town and asked in the hairdressers if there was a Saturday job going; as luck would have it, there was, as one of the juniors was leaving. So luckily for Becky, she started the following week.

She loved it; she didn’t earn much—ten bob for the day—but it was enough to buy herself the odd record or a frosted pink lipstick that was all the rage, and she always made sure there was enough left over from her wages to give Sandra a little bit extra to help her out.

She loved nothing more than watching the girls that came into the salon with their mod outfits on and the latest hairstyles. She wanted so desperately to be like them, and she was not going to stop until she was. Ambition was her middle name, and she had oodles of it.

Becky knew that Sandra really wanted her to eventually get a secretarial job and go to college and do one of those Pitman courses, but she had other plans. She begged her mum to let her go to a beauty college, but Sandra wasn’t sure. However, Becky wouldn’t give up her dream, and in 1965, just before her sixteenth birthday, she received an acceptance letter for the local beauty college. Sandra eventually gave her blessing, and Becky started that September. Of course she promised Sandra that she would keep her job at the salon and would get some evening work so she could help out financially.

On 5 October of that same year, her father’s body was pulled from the river. The policeman who informed them of the news explained that Peter had been seen earlier that evening staggering out of the Kings Arms; he’d said there were no suspicious circumstances—that he’d obviously been so drunk it was clearly just an accident. He’d simply staggered too close to the river and had fallen in and drowned owing to his drunken stupor.

Becky had felt nothing for the man that in name only was her father; the pittance he dropped in from time to time wouldn’t have kept them in tea leaves let alone anything else.

The only person Becky was concerned for was her mum. Although he’d treated her appallingly, she’d always held a torch for him. She prayed that this wouldn’t be a setback for her mum; she’d been so good the last couple of years.

Sandra attended Peter’s funeral whilst Becky stayed at home with Amy and Jake, grateful that they hadn’t been asked to go. She tried to be supportive of her mother’s feelings, and as the weeks went on after the funeral, Becky felt there was a real improvement in her. Perhaps she had put ghosts to bed. After all, Sandra was still only thirty-eight, and even though the struggles in her life had begun to take their toll, she seemed to have acquired an inner peace; they all had. Life returned to normal. Peter was soon a distant memory.

The most important thing in Becky’s life was college; she adored everything about it—especially the uniform, comprising a black jacket with a mandarin collar and pink piping around all the seams, which teamed nicely with black Capri pants. One of the girls she worked with at the salon had cut her hair in an asymmetrical bob, and she never went anywhere without her frosted lipstick; she always made sure she looked the part.

Life was good for Becky; she’d made loads of friends, and she got on like a house on fire with her tutor, Barbara Jenkins. Barbara was a formidable redhead, but as long as you kept your head down and worked hard, she was fair. Becky had a natural flair for the industry, and Barbara recognised it in her star student.

True to her word, though, Becky had promised Sandra she would get some evening work to help out. She’d replied to an advert in the local paper for a waitress job at a pub called the Stratford Arms. On her arrival, she was a little taken back by the scruffy appearance, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, so she asked the girl behind the bar where the proprietor was. She was told to take a seat and informed that she would be with her shortly. Becky was a little nervous; it meant so much to them as a family to have the extra income.

That is where Becky’s future began. Hers would become a world she could never have dreamed of—not in her wildest dreams.

***

Becky Archer? Are you the girl that answered to the ad? Agnes Trueman, the landlady, held out her hand and shook Becky’s hand firmly.

She nodded enthusiastically. Yes I am; I hope I’m not too early?

No, I prefer punctuality; come through to the parlour dear. The woman beckoned her to follow.

Becky reckoned the proprietor was about fifty; she had badly bleached hair and bright red lipstick that appeared to be covering every one of her yellowing teeth. Agnes explained to Becky that as she was still a minor and wouldn’t be allowed behind the bar, but she could certainly use her in the dining area. By that Becky supposed she meant the saloon bar; she’d noticed it as she came in. There were a dozen or so tables, but nothing to write home about.

Have you done waitressing before? She asked her, running her tongue over her teeth as if she’d read Becky’s mind about the lipstick there.

No, but I’m a hard worker, and I’d be willing to do the washing up or anything you ask. I really need the job; I promise I won’t let you down, Becky said eagerly.

Agnes liked this kid already; she’d always gone on her gut reaction before, and it had generally worked. She smiled at the young girl standing before her.

Okey dokey then, young lady; I’ll give you a three-week trial starting from tomorrow. I can offer you three nights a week—that includes a Saturday, so I hope you’ve got an understanding fella.

She laughed. Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend Mrs Trueman; college is my main focus, and helping my mum with the other kids, so I don’t have a lot of time. But I’m not that bothered anyway; Mum says they’re more trouble than they’re worth.

Sensible woman, your mother. Call me Agnes, dear. All I ask is that you work hard and don’t answer back, and we’ll get along very nicely. You’ll be paid ten shillings per shift, and you keep all your own tips. All right, now, any other questions?

No, thank you so much; that’s all fine, Agnes. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Becky beamed at her.

You will, dear; don’t be late, Agnes warned as she showed Becky out.

Becky liked Agnes, and although she and the pub were a little rough around the edges, she had a feeling she was going to be happy there. She rushed home, not able to wait to give Sandra the good news. Sandra, of course, was delighted. She had also received some good news herself; she’d been for a job interview that day to be the after-school cleaner at Amy’s school, and she’d gotten the position. Her good friend and neighbour Sheila had agreed to watch the kids for the few hours she would be gone in the evenings. They hugged and congratulated each other. It had truly been a good day; things were definitely on the up.

Time had never flown by so quickly. She worked hard at college, determined to come out of the course with distinctions. She was doing more and more practical work, and she loved working on the models that volunteered to be waxed and plucked, but most of all she loved applying make-up. This is where she excelled, and Barbara was thrilled with her progress.

Agnes had also promised her that as soon as she was eighteen she would be allowed to work behind the bar, and she couldn’t wait; the girls behind the bar always had a laugh, and it beat washing up and waiting on tables any day of the week.

***

One evening, Becky returned home after a long shift at the pub quite exhausted, as usual, to find Sandra sitting in their small front room with a dark-haired man she’d never seen before.

Hello, Beck, Sandra said. This is John; he’s the caretaker at Amy’s school.

She appeared to blush slightly. Oh … is everything okay? Seeing this man sitting there was quite a surprise to Becky; her mum very seldom had visitors—especially of the male variety.

Yes, of course it is, love; I just thought it was about time you two met. You see, we’ve been seeing quite a bit of each other. Becky was aware that she was standing with her mouth open. Suddenly Sandra stood up and began to pace the room as she explained herself.

Apparently John’s wife had died a few years ago but the school had let John stay on as caretaker even though the post had been for a married couple; that’s how they’d met when Sandra had started the cleaning job. They’d been out on several occasions for drinks or dinner and had become very fond of one another. Someone could have knocked Becky down with a feather. She knew her mum had been going out a fair bit, because she’d used Katie, who lived in the flat below them, to babysit, but it had never entered her head that they were dates she’d been going on. She’d just assumed she was going to bingo with the other women from the flats.

Becky looked at her mum and suddenly realised that she looked very nice. There was a glow about her that she’d never seen before; she was wearing red lipstick, and her hair was neatly pinned in a chignon at the nape of her neck.

Anyway, Beck, we just thought it was about time you met John. We’ve become close, and I told him we don’t have secrets, you and me. You’ve always been my rock, love; you know that.

That’s great, Mum, and it’s nice to meet you, John. She held out her hand, and he shook it warmly. She really didn’t know what else to say or do.

He was a tall man with dark, wavy hair and friendly eyes. He was wearing a very smart dark grey suit, and he had a very distinct cockney accent. Becky supposed he was quite handsome for an older man.

Well, that was the beginning of Sandra’s great love affair. It was true to say she had never seen her mum so happy, and after that first night of meeting John, he became pretty much a permanent feature in the flat. The kids loved him as much as Sandra did, and he transformed the flat, always painting and decorating and buying nice new furniture. It was wonderful; he had become the husband and the father that they’d never had. But most importantly for Becky, the pressure was off of her.

Sandra had a new guardian angel now, so maybe it was time for her to spread her wings and make something of her life; she was more than ready.

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Chapter 2

At last Becky’s eighteenth birthday arrived. She awoke early on that Saturday morning. Hooray! a little voice inside her head said. She was an adult, and her life was about to change. She had only a few more months at college before being fully qualified, and of course Agnes had promised her the barmaid job—no more scrubbing dirty pots. She’d actually come to love the pub and Agnes. The locals that drank there were a lively bunch; there was always something fun going on. She’d been asked out by a couple of the local lads on several occasions but had always declined. She had no interest in saddling herself with some bloke; her sights were set much higher.

She came out of her bedroom to the sound of John, Sandra, Amy, and Jake singing Happy Birthday to You at the top of their voices. On the kitchen table were three or four parcels and a pile of cards.

Hurry up then, said Amy. Open them. Her sister giggled.

Sandra busied herself making tea and toast, and Becky made a start on opening her parcels. She was quite excited as she began to rip the colourful paper off. There was the new Beatles LP from John, a pale pink turtleneck sweater from Amy and Jake, and then she spotted a tiny little parcel from Sandra. She opened it carefully, and inside there was a silver chain and locket.

Oh, Mum, it’s beautiful! she cried.

Open the locket up, love, Sandra urged.

Becky read the tiny inscription inside. ‘My Rock’. I will never take it off—not ever. Becky hugged her tightly. It was such a special moment for both of them. In fact, the whole day was special—not particularly a grand day, but a day filled with love and happiness.

***

Becky was becoming quite a talent. She’d already built up a reputation at college for being an amazing make-up artist. She never ceased to astonish Barbara, because she knew that this particular girl had an incredible future ahead of her. She was proud of all of her girls, but this one was different—special.

Sandra was looking younger and more glamorous every day thanks to Becky’s constant practising. She and John were like love’s young dream, but more than anything it was great to be part of a proper family—dare she say a normal family.

Friday was Becky’s favourite day of the week; she always went to the town hall after work and danced the night away to all the new songs from the hit parade. She went on a few dates, but they never went anywhere. Once a boy realised she was only interested in getting a good job and not at all interested in marriage and babies, he soon got bored with her.

The best thing for her, though, was that now that John was in their lives, nearly all of her money was her own. She’d give her mum a little bit of keep, but the rest was hers, so she started to save a little here and there—she wasn’t sure for what, but it would come in handy. The proudest day of her life so far was the day she received her city in guild certificate. She’d passed in everything with distinctions, just as Barbara had predicted.

The world was her oyster. In fact, unbeknown to her, Becky’s life was about to change forever. It would be a change that not even Nostradamus himself could’ve foreseen.

***

It was a usual Saturday teatime, and Becky was on her way out to work at the pub. She’d kept her job there just until she could find a permanent beautician’s position; and besides, she loved it.

Just a mo, Beck, Sandra called out to her just as she was due to leave for work. John and me, well, we have something we want to talk to you about.

That sounds very ominous, she laughed.

John smiled. It’s nothing to worry about, love, but can you spare five minutes? Yes, quick then, or I’ll be late, and you know what Agnes is like for punctuality. She frowned at her mum, as she looked a little worried. Everything is okay? Becky asked.

It is, Beck, said John. You know that the caretaker’s job was really for a married couple? Becky nodded. Well, the school have been more than fair; however, my Rosie has been gone over four years now, and it’s all gotten a bit much for me. Quite frankly they need two people; it’s a big school.

Becky frowned. Sorry, John, I’m a bit confused.

What John is trying to say … quite badly, Sandra said with a laugh, is that the school have put John in touch with another school where there is a much better position. It is a smaller school, so it will be easier for him to take care of it.

Look, I’m sorry, Mum, but I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. That’s great, isn’t it? Becky couldn’t understand what all the cloak-and-dagger talk was about. She kept checking her watch; Agnes hated lateness.

It’s in Manchester, Beck, John said quietly.

The colour drained from Becky’s face. Oh, I see, she whispered once the penny had dropped.

It’s such a good opportunity for all of us, John said. The caretaker’s house is large enough, and, well, it will be a fresh start—a chance to be a real family and finally get off this ruddy estate. What do you think, Beck?

I don’t know. It’s all so sudden. I know it’s a wonderful opportunity, but my life is here in Benford. I’m qualified now; I’m bound to get a job soon. Mum, all my friends are here; I’m happy here. She looked at Sandra with her pretty green eyes, which were threatening to spill large, salty tears at any moment.

Look, said Sandra, I know it’s a lot to take in. Go to work and have a think; we’ll have a proper chat tomorrow. Sandra hugged her. Becky left for work feeling quite shocked by the whole conversation. To say she was less than useless at work that night was an understatement.

***

What on earth is wrong with you, Becky? You’ve given the wrong change twice now. Agnes tutted, and Becky’s bottom lip began to quiver. Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, she spilt a whole pint of Guinness down old Charlie Simmons’s trousers.

Right, that’s it! Through to the back room with you, my girl; there’s clearly something amiss. Agnes took her by the hand and led her in to the parlour. Nothing that a vodie and tonic can’t fix. She smiled at Becky. Now what is it? she asked her as she poured the drinks.

Becky told Agnes all about the conversation she’d had earlier that evening.

Oh, I see … And I take it you don’t’ want to go—is that it?

Agnes took a large gulp of her medicinal-purpose-only drink. That’s just it, Agnes, I … I don’t know. Me, Mum, and the kids, we’ve been through so much. Don’t get me wrong; I love John—we all do—but I was just starting to make a life for myself here. Then, uncontrollably, she burst into tears.

Now listen to me, lady; tears never solved anything. She handed her a tissue. Come on, lovey. I expect you’re worried because you’d have nowhere to live; you know I have the spare room upstairs; you could rent that from me. It ain’t the Ritz, but it’s cosy and you can do it up a bit. You’ll be earning good money soon from all that beauty stuff you do. You’re eighteen now, dearie; maybe you should spread your wings a bit; it’ll do you good. And that John—well, he sounds like a good’n; he’ll look after your mum. They’re going up north, Becky dear, not outer Mongolia.

Becky laughed at the simple way Agnes tried to explain things. Now that’s more like it. Take the rest of the night off, go on home, and have a good think. I won’t dock your pay, and Becky, my offer stands. Besides, I’d love to have you here. Agnes smiled; she really had become very fond of this skinny, pretty girl with the slightly vulnerable personality that everybody loved.

Thank you so much, Agnes. See you tomorrow, then. Becky left the pub, her head reeling from the chat she’d just had with Agnes. She caught the bus home, much too tired to walk.

When she got to the estate, she looked around at its shabby exterior. She could hear laughter coming from the local pub on the corner. Everyone was happy—everyone but her. What a decision she had to make; it was not going to be easy.

She went straight to bed and fell into a restless sleep.

She was awoken the next morning by Amy singing the latest Cilla Black song; she fancied herself a bit of a pop star. Bless her, Becky thought to herself. She’s such a sweet kid. The kids would have a much better life away from the estate; and more importantly, they would have security with John.

Becky washed and dressed and went to find Sandra in the kitchen. She was making bacon sandwiches. The smell was tantalizing, and Becky’s tummy rumbled.

Morning, love; would you like one? Sandra asked breezily, and Becky nodded. Ketchup’s on the table; there’s one here already done. Tuck in; don’t let it go cold. Sandra smiled.

Where’s John, Mum? Becky asked, taking a delicious mouthful.

He went to get the papers. Are you okay, Beck? You look a bit pale, Love? She said patting her Daughter’s shoulder gently. Well sort of, I’ve come to a decision about the move. she said half-heartedly, fidgeting in her chair. Sandra pulled up the chair beside her. Go on then, love; I’m all ears.

I’m so happy for you and the kids, Mum; I really am. But I’m not going to go to Manchester.

Sandra let out a deep sigh. I see … Why, Beck? It isn’t John, is it?

Not at all, Mum; I love John. It’s just that my life is just beginning. I’m eighteen now, and qualified. I know I’ll get a job soon. I really feel I want to give it a go here in Benford; all my friends are here. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll miss you all desperately. But I have to follow my head, not my heart. She pushed the remainder of her sandwich to one side, her appetite diminished.

But where will you live, Beck? I’d be so worried. Sandra bit her bottom lip. Becky told her all about the conversation she’d had with Agnes the previous evening. She explained how kind she’d been in offering her the lodgings, and although she felt she had to do this, if ever she felt she wasn’t coping, she’d be up to Manchester as quick as a flash.

Sandra pulled her daughter in to her arms. What am I going to do without you, my little rock? She sniffed back the tears.

John walked in at that very moment and saw mother and daughter in each other’s arms, crying.

I don’t need to guess what you’ve decided, Beck, he said. I want you to know that you are like a daughter to me and I love you very much, and if ever you need anything, we’ll be here for you in the blink of an eye, I promise.

He joined in the group hug, and then Jake suddenly appeared. Why is everyone crying? he said in his cute little voice. Because we’re happy and sad all at the same time, Sandra explained.

Well that doesn’t makes sense at all, said Amy, who had also just walked into the kitchen. They all laughed and then began to cry again.

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Chapter 3

It was now November. Sandra and John had been living in Manchester for a month, and Becky had settled in nicely at the pub. Her room was small and cosy. John had given her twenty pounds as a leaving present—a small fortune to Becky, but it had been more than handy to start her off with a few items for her room.

She invested in a new single bed, a fold-down table with two chairs, and a second-hand black-and-white TV set. She painted the room a pale shade of blue and purchased matching bed linen. Agnes was impressed with the transformation; she was more than fair with the rent, and Becky had decided to keep on two of her weekly night shifts at the pub even though at long last she’d found herself full-time employment at Glamour, a beautician’s in the town.

The money wasn’t great, but she worked hard to do well and gain experience. The manageress was a bitch called Julie who made sure everyone knew she was the boss, dare they ever forget it.

It was a small salon in a prime position in the town. It had four dressing-out positions for the hair stylists, and through some large double doors leading out towards the back of the building there was a beauty area for Becky and the other two beauticians. The head beautician was a pretty fair-haired girl with the darkest brown eyes Becky had ever seen. Her name was Polly; she was a lovely girl, only twenty-one, and good at her job. The other girl was Tracy, a dizzy brunette, but what that girl couldn’t do with her make-up brushes wasn’t worth knowing. Becky could have watched her expertise all day long.

Becky was given most of the boring jobs of waxing legs and bikini lines, but she was in work and grateful of it. She was prepared to start at the bottom and work her way up, and that’s fully what she intended to do. She was always enthusiastic and interested, soaking up every fragment of information.

The hours were long and hard, but she loved watching the women coming in and being transformed. It was always the make-up that she enjoyed the most, of course; she knew that’s what she wanted to excel in. She’d kept some of the money back that John had given her and enrolled in glamorous day courses up in London on her days off.

Tracy also wanted her to do well, so she always encouraged her and told her the best courses to enrol in to further her career.

She’d been at Glamour for the best part of a year now and was approaching her nineteenth birthday. She had become an excellent beautician and make-up artist, her salary had almost doubled, and she had become an important asset to the salon.

Even bitch manageress from hell Julie had really warmed to Becky, and when Tracy announced she was leaving to have a baby, because of her expertise, Julie promoted Becky to head beautician. Life was certainly on the up for Becky Archer, and with Christmas looming she thought it would be nice to go and visit the family and have some fun.

Christmas Eve in the salon was hectic; everyone wanted to be waxed or plucked or have some glamorous make-up applied in preparation for festive parties.

However, at 4.30 p.m. they all downed tools and had a quick glass of wine in the communal staff room. They wished each other all the very best and then dashed home to begin their own festivities.

Becky had already packed her weekend bag the night before, so she’d be in plenty of time to make the 7 p.m. train that night from Euston to Manchester.

She rushed in quickly, bathed, and changed into something casual for the journey. She kissed Agnes goodbye, yelled Merry Christmas! to everyone in the bar, and hurried to the train that would take her up to Euston in London. There she would get her connection all the way to Manchester. She was feeling completely shattered by the time she settled herself in the carriage but was excited at the prospect of seeing her family; she hadn’t seen them since the end of the summer. She dozed in and out of contented sleep until finally she arrived at her destination.

John was there to collect her from the station. She grabbed her little weekend bag and stepped off the train. She saw him immediately; he was flailing his arms in the air to attract her attention.

Becky! he shouted. Over here, love! she ran in to his arms, realizing how much she’d missed them all.

Oh, it’s so good to see you, John. I’ve been so looking forward to this. How is everyone?

Mum can’t wait to see you, Beck; neither can the kids. Amy is driving us mad, and hopefully Jake will still be awake.

I can’t believe I’m here. It’s been so busy at the salon I’m ready to drop. She laughed.

Well, you’re here now, and Mum will spoil you rotten. You deserve it. We’re so proud of you, Beck. He sounded like the father she’d never really had.

***

Christmas morning was like a madhouse. There were toys everywhere, and wrapping paper strewn all over the lounge floor. There was the most glorious smell of roasting turkey wafting through the house, and beautiful lit candles filled the room with their cinnamon smell, which amalgamated with that of the roast meat. Becky had never been happier to be a real family in her life.

Sandra was almost unrecognizable these days. She was a new woman, and she and John were happier than ever. For the first time ever, Becky realised that her mum was quite beautiful. She had the same chestnut hair as herself, although she’d recently had a tint to disguise the sprinkle of silver that had started to creep in around the hairline. Her eyes were a vivid green, identical in colour to her own, and she had a figure most women half her age would envy.

How are things, Beck? It’s wonderful that you’re doing so well, love; thank God I never insisted that you do that Pitman course. She laughed as she strained carrots in to a colander.

I love it, Mum; it’s very hard work, but now maybe that I’ve done all my courses, I can aim a bit higher. Who knows, maybe in a year or so I might get a job in London.

Or maybe Manchester, John teased as he refilled their wine glasses.

Yes, there are starting to be some nice little salons and a few nice shops popping up here recently, Sandra said.

Perhaps one day, Becky sighed. She missed them as much as they missed her, but Manchester was a long way away, and for some reason she was drawn to the wonderment of London.

What about your social life? Is there a man in your life? Sandra grinned.

Man? She smiled. I’ve had no time for any of that. Besides, I’ve only ever met one decent man, and you bagged him! They all giggled, and then Sandra ushered them all into the dining room for lunch.

Sandra busied herself plating the Christmas feast up. Becky sorted the crackers out and had to reprimand her siblings, who were trying to pull them already. Sandra worried about Becky’s lack of social life—especially the fact that a very pretty girl like her never dated. God knows she knew that Peter had been a dreadful husband and father. She just hoped that if she herself was able to find love again that Becky too would meet a nice young man one day—soon.

They were the three happiest days Becky could remember, but the time came for her to leave and go back to Benford and, of course, back to work. There were lots of tears as always when they were parting; she promised she’d be back soon. As she sat on the train home, she had a good feeling that something good, very good, was about to happen to her. All good things come to those who wait, and she’d waited long enough.

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Chapter 4

The year 1972 came in with a bang. Agnes threw her usual New Year’s Eve party that went on until the wee small hours. All the regulars attended, and Becky had awoken on New Year’s morning with her first proper hangover.

She poured herself a large glass of water and regretted that last vodka and tonic. She had a quick bath and lolled back on her bed with her hair wrapped in a turban. She was becoming quite a stunner. Her hair was as shiny as a new pin, and she had a peaches-and-cream complexion. But it was her eyes that everyone commented on; they were the colour of rich, dark emeralds, inherited from her mum—and hers before her—and framed with thick, black lashes. She’d had many a local lad ask her out, but she was so wrapped up in her work; it would take someone pretty special to turn her head.

She returned to work the following day, and as much as she still loved it, she