Always I'Ll Remember
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Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Always I'll Remember
RITA BRADSHAW
headline
Copyright © 2005 Rita Bradshaw
The right of Rita Bradshaw to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2010
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
eISBN : 978 0 7553 7590 5
This Ebook produced by Jouve Digitalisation des Informations
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
Table of Contents
Rita Bradshaw was born in Northamptonshire, where she still lives today. At the age of sixteen she met her husband - whom she considers her soulmate - and they have two daughters and a son and two young grandsons. Much to her delight, Rita’s first attempt at a novel was accepted for publication, and she went on to write many more successful novels under a pseudonym before writing for Headline using her own name.
As a commited Christian and passionate animal-lover Rita has a full and busy life, but her writing continues to be a consuming pleasure that she never tires of. In any spare moments she loves reading, walking her beloved, elderly dog, eating out and visiting the cinema and theatre, as well as being involved in her local church and animal welfare.
Rita Bradshaw’s earlier sagas, ALONE BENEATH THE HEAVEN, REACH FOR TOMORROW, RAGAMUFFIN ANGEL, THE STONY PATH, THE URCHIN’S SONG, CANDLES IN THE STORM and THE MOST PRECIOUS THING, are also available from Headline.
This book is dedicated to my precious little furry baby, Jessie-Peg, who was so much more than a dog and who won the hearts of everyone who knew her.
Peg, your amazing understanding, love, quirky little ways and utter devotion have left a void which can never be filled. You were so very brave at the end and fought so hard to get better, but it wasn’t to be.
You had my heart in your little paw from the minute you came into my life, and I know I had yours.
Always,
always
I’ll remember.
always
I’ll remember.
Acknowledgements
I draw on so many sources I can’t name them all, but special thanks for some of the background to this book which features the magnificent work of the Women’s Land Army must go to
War in the Countryside
by Sadie Ward,
The Wartime Kitchen and Garden
by Jennifer Davies,
Wartime Women
edited by Dorothy Sheridan, and
The World at War 1939-45
, Readers Digest.
War in the Countryside
by Sadie Ward,
The Wartime Kitchen and Garden
by Jennifer Davies,
Wartime Women
edited by Dorothy Sheridan, and
The World at War 1939-45
, Readers Digest.
Prologue
1921
T
he tall, golden-haired woman standing at the kitchen window eased the collar of her blouse as she stared out into the mean little backyard. The February day was a raw one and a thin coating of ice covered the thick snow outside, but inside the kitchen the range was glowing, the smell of fresh bread pervaded the air and it was as warm as toast.
he tall, golden-haired woman standing at the kitchen window eased the collar of her blouse as she stared out into the mean little backyard. The February day was a raw one and a thin coating of ice covered the thick snow outside, but inside the kitchen the range was glowing, the smell of fresh bread pervaded the air and it was as warm as toast.
‘Let him come.’ The words were breathed on the air and trembled in the silence broken only by the regular ticking of the wooden clock on the mantelpiece. He had to come now the coast was clear.
It was ten minutes later when she heard the backyard gate creak and her heart began to race. She put the loaf of bread she’d just fetched out of the oven onto the kitchen table and turned to face the scullery, smoothing down her apron as she did so.
The big man who entered the kitchen through the scullery door a moment or two later was good-looking in a rough-hewn way, and as his eyes went to the woman he didn’t smile. She stared at him for a second before saying, ‘Hello, Ivor.’
He nodded, rubbing his hand across his mouth. ‘I told Raymond I’d make sure I brought the coal in and check if there’s anything you want while he’s on this trip, you just having had the babbie an’ all.’
‘Did you? That was kind of you.’ Her voice was soft, almost teasing, and the thickly lashed blue eyes were laughing at him. ‘Well, there is something I want. Can you guess what it is?’
‘Don’t start that.’ It was said on a groan. ‘We can’t go back to that, we agreed—’
‘I didn’t agree to anything. You were the one who said we couldn’t when I was expecting, but I’m not expecting any more, am I?’ She glanced over at the small wicker basket in front of the range which held a tiny occupant who was sleeping soundly. ‘She’s over six weeks old now and I’ve missed you. Haven’t you missed me?’
‘We can’t,’ he repeated, but more weakly now. ‘We never should have in the first place. Damn it, I don’t know how it all came about. She’s your sister, for crying out loud. Don’t you feel any guilt or shame?’
‘Do you?’
‘Aye, I do. By, I do. It keeps me awake half the night, if you want to know.’
‘Poor love.’ She reached up and undid the bun at the back of her head, releasing the golden cascade of silky hair which fell about her shoulders, enhancing the deep blue of her eyes and the pearly tint to her skin. Holding out her arms, she said, ‘Let me make it all better. I guarantee you’ll forget all about it in a little while.’
He swallowed, shaking his head. ‘I promised meself it wouldn’t happen again.’
‘Promises are like piecrust, made to be broken.’ As she spoke she walked past him and into the scullery, returning a moment later after she had slipped the bolt on the back door. He was standing exactly where she had left him and he hadn’t objected to her locking the door. She smiled. ‘I love you,’ she said softly, ‘and we’re not hurting anyone, are we? No one knows. No one will ever know. And you
have
missed me, I know it. She’s never done any of the things we did, has she? I could tell. I bet she never even lets you keep the light on.’ Her smile widened, showing small white teeth. ‘There’s fresh sheets on the bed.’
have
missed me, I know it. She’s never done any of the things we did, has she? I could tell. I bet she never even lets you keep the light on.’ Her smile widened, showing small white teeth. ‘There’s fresh sheets on the bed.’
‘What about the babbie?’
‘She’s not been long fed, she’ll sleep for a couple of hours or more.’ Her voice was triumphant.
He made no reply but stood looking at her. It had started to snow again outside, fat white flakes blowing against the kitchen window and sliding down the glass to collect on the ledge. ‘Why?’ he asked quietly. ‘Why me?’
She looked straight at him, the blue of her eyes very clear and bright. ‘I’ve told you,’ she said. ‘I love you.’
‘But Raymond’s a good man.’
‘Perhaps I don’t want a good man, perhaps I want a bad one.’ She was laughing at him again.
‘You’ve got to take this seriously.’
‘Oh I do, Ivor. I promise you I do.’ She wasn’t smiling any more. ‘I love you and I can’t live without you. Is that serious enough?’ She undid the top two buttons of her blouse and as his eyes went to the soft swell of her breasts, she said, ‘Tell me you love me.’
‘What?’
‘Say you love me more than her.’
He said nothing, staring at her as though in bewilderment and after a second she walked over to him and put her arms round his neck. Standing on tiptoe she pressed her lips against his. His arms tightened after a few moments as she’d known they would, and when she drew back to look into his face, she whispered, ‘You will, one day. You will say it.’
And then she led him out of the room, into the hall and up the stairs . . .
PART ONE
Abby
1937
1937
Chapter One
‘
S
o tonight’s the night you’re going to tell her, eh? You couldn’t see your way clear to wait till I’m away on the high seas and out of reach of her temper?’
S
o tonight’s the night you’re going to tell her, eh? You couldn’t see your way clear to wait till I’m away on the high seas and out of reach of her temper?’
He didn’t mean it. Abby Vickers grinned at her father and pushed him with her elbow as they walked down the hot dusty street, one of many hot dusty streets which made up the hub of the north-east town of Bishopwearmouth. Her da knew how her mam was with her when he wasn’t around. She couldn’t remember how old she had been when he’d warned her mam he’d do for her one day if the beatings didn’t stop, but it had been after her mam had sent her flying across the room and she’d caught her head against the fender. She touched the small scar on her brow just below her hairline, a memento of that incident. Since then her mother hadn’t laid into her when her da was home from sea, but he was away an awful lot.
‘I only heard I’d got on the course today, Da, and it starts this Thursday. It’s been oversubscribed, the letter said, that’s why there was a delay.’ Abby’s voice held the lilt of excitement. ‘But I got in, Da!’
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