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Authors: Dilly Court

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BOOK: A Mother's Trust
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Gradually, as the summer wore on, Phoebe began to worry less about anyone discovering the truth about her small brother. He was thriving and beginning to sit up and take notice of his surroundings. He was a placid child with a happy temperament, quite unlike either of his parents, and had won hearts with his smiles and the delighted cooing noises he made when he recognised someone close to him.

Phoebe put aside her doubts about marrying Gino. His open adoration and tender kisses were a balm to her soul. She concentrated on returning his affection as best she could. What was love after all? She vowed that she would try her utmost to make him happy, but as the summer days began to shorten she knew that time was running out. Soon it would be September and the wedding in Stresa that her grandparents had spent the last few months planning and saving for. Tiny arrows of doubt pierced her heart and sometimes
in
the middle of the night she awakened in a panic, but with the dawn commonsense reasserted itself and she was calm again. There were no monsters. Her life would be safe and secure when she married Gino. She and her brother would never want for anything.

Phoebe was alone in the house. Maria had gone to market with Ivy, who was pushing Teddy in the perambulator that Fabio had bought from a pawnshop around the corner in Charles Street. The men were out on their rounds selling hokey-pokey and Phoebe had no bookings that morning. She was washing some of Teddy’s clothes in the stone sink when someone hammered on the front door. Thinking that it might be one of their neighbours wishing to borrow something, or perhaps a prospective client, she wiped her hands on her apron and hurried to open it. Shielding her eyes against the bright light, she stared in disbelief at the man who had his hand raised to knock again. ‘Caspar.’ She attempted to close the door but he stuck his foot over the threshold and with a mighty shove sent her stumbling backwards into the hallway.

‘It’s taken me months to find you, Phoebe. Did you think you could get rid of me so easily? I told you that I wouldn’t let you go and I meant it.’

‘Go away,’ she cried passionately. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you.’

He pushed past her and strode into the front parlour as if he owned the place. She followed him, her heart thudding against her ribcage. She was as
close
to panic as she had ever been in her life. Caspar did not know the full story but he knew enough to make things very difficult. If he told her grandparents that Teddy was Annie’s child the whole sorry tale would come out. She hesitated in the doorway, watching him as he strolled around the table, picking up the bell that she had placed in readiness for the séance that afternoon. He rang it once and the sound reverberated eerily through the silent house. ‘What do you want, Caspar?’ She made an effort to appear calm and in control of the situation, but inwardly she was quaking.

‘You, my pet.’ He replaced the bell on the table. ‘I see you’re carrying on where your slattern of a mother left off.’

‘Get out of my house. I won’t allow you to sully Ma’s good name with your vicious words.’

‘She’s dead, and unless you can conjure up her spirit she’s past caring what anyone says about her.’

Phoebe glanced nervously at the black marble clock on the mantelshelf. Nonna would be returning from market any minute now. She must get Caspar away from the house. ‘Why did you come here? You must have found another assistant by now.’

‘Yes, I have, but she’s a silly girl with fewer brains than a fly. I want you back, Phoebe. I’ve got a booking at the Charing Cross theatre, and I must have a perfect act if I’m to make my mark in London.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t help you, Caspar. I have responsibilities at home and I’m engaged to be married.’

He fixed her with the gaze that had always had the
power
to mesmerise her. ‘You don’t love him, whoever he is, and you won’t marry him.’

‘You’re talking nonsense. You know nothing of my life here.’

‘But I know you, Phoebe. We worked closely together in Brighton. I understand the way you feel and think. Together we can make our fortune.’

She held the door open, motioning him to leave. ‘I’m sure you will do quite well without me. I’m asking you to go now.’

‘I’m not leaving until you agree to hear me out.’

The sound of the front door opening and Nonna’s firm tread on the creaking floorboards made Phoebe move a little further into the room to avoid being seen by her grandmother. The squeaking wheels of the perambulator and Teddy’s hungry whimpering made her glance anxiously at Caspar, hoping that by some miracle he had not heard.

He had cocked his head on one side, eyeing her like a blackbird that had spotted a juicy worm. ‘Annie’s little bastard. I didn’t think you would have left him in Brighton with that simpleton Dolly.’ He held up his hand as Phoebe opened her mouth to protest. ‘It was through her that I traced your whereabouts. She couldn’t tell me who fathered the boy, but she did know that your father died many years ago and that Annie had never remarried.’

Phoebe’s nerves were stretched to breaking point. ‘My grandmother has just come home,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t want her to see you.’

He gave her a smug smile. ‘Then you will have
to
listen to my proposition or I will introduce myself to the good lady. I’m sure she would be most interested to know that her daughter-in-law gave birth to an illegitimate child.’ He chuckled mirthlessly. ‘I just wonder how you explained the parentage of the child that you brought home from Brighton.’

She reached for her shawl. ‘We’ll discuss this somewhere else.’

‘That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said so far.’

Tiptoeing along the hallway, Phoebe led him out of the house. She walked on ahead, fearing that one of their neighbours might see her with the tall stranger whose dandified appearance marked him out as a man of means. His charcoal-grey frock coat was impeccably cut and his pin-stripe trousers tailored to perfection. He walked with a swagger and carried a silver-topped ebony cane that must have cost a week’s wage for an ordinary working man. Part of her hoped that the street arabs would mob him and steal his valuables, but they slunk away when he glared at them and hid in doorways until he had passed by. There was something magnetic and yet menacing about Caspar Collins. She wished with all her heart that he had remained in Brighton or Bournemouth or wherever his last theatre booking had taken him.

‘I could do with a glass of brandy,’ Caspar said, stopping outside the pub frequented by the Paxmans.

This was the last thing that Phoebe wanted. She had intended to take him to a coffee house nearby. ‘This isn’t a nice place.’

‘We won’t stay long and I have other matters to
attend
to today.’ He opened the pub door and a gust of warm air wafted out laced with tobacco smoke and the odour of stale beer and sweat. She closed her eyes as memories flooded back of the times when as a small child she had been sent out looking for her mother, and had brought her home dead drunk. She was about to refuse but she caught sight of Ethel Fowler and Minnie Sykes heading their way. She knew that Ethel would neither have forgotten nor forgiven her for thwarting her plans for Dolly and she wanted at all costs to avoid a confrontation. The pub seemed the lesser of two evils.

‘All right,’ she said, slipping past him into the taproom. ‘Just for a few minutes and then I must go.’ She blinked as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and the smoky atmosphere. She made her way to a table as far away from the entrance as possible, where she could get a good view of anyone who came in after them, but she did not see Ned Paxman until she almost trod on his outstretched foot.

‘By God, you’re a stranger, young Phoebe.’ His smile faded. ‘Rogue told me about Annie. I was sorry to hear she’d passed away. You must miss her.’

Shooting a covert glance in Caspar’s direction she was relieved to see that he was talking to the barman and not paying any attention to her. ‘Yes, I do.’ She made to move on but he caught her by the wrist.

‘What was it that took her so suddenly? She was well enough when I last saw her.’

It was a question that she had been dreading, and when she did not answer straight away Ned eyed her
curiously
. ‘Rogue told me she died of lung disease, but she was a tough little thing. I find it hard to believe that she could succumb so easily.’

‘It was a chill,’ Phoebe said, thinking quickly. ‘She got wet one stormy night on the way to the theatre. The doctor said it was pneumonia that took her.’

‘And my brother told me that young Dolly had a baby, and you are looking after it for her.’

‘What was that you said, Ned Paxman?’ Ethel Fowler’s strident voice rang out behind them, causing all heads to turn and stare.

Phoebe backed into the corner as Ethel advanced on her like a warship in full sail. ‘You took my little girl away from me, Phoebe Giamatti. What’s this I hear you say about my Dolly?’ She turned on Ned in a fury. ‘Or was that just your filthy mouth, Paxman? I ain’t afraid of you so don’t you go scowling at me like that.’

Chapter Fourteen

‘HE’S A BAD
‘un, Ethel,’ Minnie said, standing well away from Ned. ‘You don’t want to fall foul of them Paxmans and their gang.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you wasn’t the one what seduced and ruined my little girl.’ Ethel’s voice rose an octave and she lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar. ‘She wouldn’t be the first one you’ve deflowered, you bastard.’

Ned leapt to his feet, shaking her off so that she stumbled against Minnie and they both fell to the floor in a flurry of dirty red petticoats, each of them exposing a large expanse of bare leg.

Caspar had been standing silently, listening to the exchange between Phoebe and Ned, but he was forced to leap out of the way as Ethel and Minnie struggled to their feet. His eyes met Phoebe’s and she knew that he had overheard Ethel’s accusation.

‘Please don’t say anything,’ Phoebe said urgently.

‘Sit down.’ He waited until she was seated before setting a glass of port on the table in front of her. ‘Drink that. You look as though you need it.’ He righted Ned’s chair, which had been knocked over in the fracas and sat on it, turning his back on Ned and Ethel who were now involved in a fierce row, with Minnie throwing
in
unhelpful comments. ‘Well, Phoebe. What is your answer?’

‘It’s the same as before, Caspar. Nothing you could do or say would make me change my mind. I only agreed to come here because I didn’t want you to meet my grandmother. You’re no longer part of my life. In fact you never were. Working with you was simply a means of earning money. I didn’t enjoy being your assistant and I wouldn’t want to do it again.’

He downed his brandy in one greedy gulp. ‘You weren’t supposed to be having fun. Assisting me in my act is equivalent to helping a great artist create something wondrous and beautiful. You understood that, I think.’

‘Perhaps I did, but I’m not free now, Caspar.’ She tried to moderate her tone in order to placate him. She could tell by the dangerous glitter in his eyes that she was treading on quicksand.

‘Then make yourself available.’ He leaned across the table, breathing brandy fumes in her face. ‘If you don’t I’ll tell those peasants behind me that it was Annie who gave birth to your brother, and judging by what I’ve just seen and heard it doesn’t take a genius to work out who fathered the child.’ He jerked his head in Ned’s direction. ‘I think he would be most interested to learn the truth.’

‘You’re mistaken,’ Phoebe said urgently. ‘And you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Ned Paxman. He and his brother are the leaders of a notorious street gang.’

‘Then you have more to fear from them than I. Give me your answer now, Phoebe, or I’ll tell him your
mother’s
shameful secret. Your life won’t be worth living round here if these people discover the truth.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you’d do something so wicked, and I won’t be bullied into working with you. Teddy needs me and I’m marrying Gino in September.’

Caspar rose to his feet. He tapped Ned on the shoulder. ‘I’ve something to tell you, mister.’

Ned brushed his hand away. ‘Who are you?’

‘That doesn’t matter, but I know that young Dolly isn’t the mother of the child living in the Giamatti house.’

Ethel stared at him in astonishment. ‘What’s this cove saying?’

Phoebe stood up even though her knees were trembling violently. ‘Don’t take any notice of what he says. He’s a madman.’

‘Madman, am I?’ Caspar rounded on her. ‘You’re the one who’s been lying and duping people. Tell him whose baby it is that you’re bringing up as your own.’

‘Yours, Phoebe?’ Ned stared at her, and his shocked expression might have been comical had the situation not been so dire. ‘That’s not what you told my brother.’

Ethel pushed past Caspar to grab Phoebe by the shoulders. She shook her mercilessly. ‘What have you been up to? You stole my girl from me and now I hear that you’re a wanton like your mother. I won’t allow Dolly to live with someone like you. I want her back. D’you hear me?’

Ned pulled them apart. ‘Shut up, Ethel.’ He clamped his hands on Phoebe’s arm, his strong fingers digging into her flesh. ‘Whose baby is it? Answer me.’

She bowed her head and tears streamed from her eyes. ‘Yours,’ she whispered. ‘Ma died in childbirth.’

He relaxed his hold and she sank back onto the chair, covering her eyes with her hand.

‘Is this true? Are you telling me that Annie died giving birth to my son?’

She nodded. ‘Please don’t take my brother away from me, Ned. And for God’s sake don’t tell my grandfather or my uncles.’

‘My son.’ Ned brushed his fair hair back from his forehead in a gesture so like his brother’s that for a moment it could have been Rogue staring at her as if he could not believe his ears. ‘I have a son.’ His hand shot out and he grabbed her by the wrist. ‘Why wasn’t I told of this? Why did you keep it from me?’

Phoebe wrenched her arm free, rubbing her flesh where bruises were already beginning to show. ‘Because this is exactly how I thought you’d behave, Ned Paxman. Teddy is my half-brother and I wanted to protect him from you and your kind.’

BOOK: A Mother's Trust
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