this letter arrived only a few months ago she’d have gone to Jack without a second thought, even though she knew he couldn’t be trusted. Part of her longed to go to him even now, in spite of the way he’d abandoned her and their daughter to fend for themselves, but she couldn’t. She was married to Bob now, and she wouldn’t hurt him, not after all he’d done for her. He was a good, decent man and she was fond of him.
But fond wasn’t the kind of all-consuming love she’d felt for Jack. A bitter sense of loss filled her and she knew that, despite everything, she still loved Jack; he was still there inside her head and her heart, even though he’d let her down. She’d tried to forget him but all it took was this letter to start up that aching need inside – but she couldn’t go to him, she couldn’t leave Bob.
She shoved the money and key in her apron pocket, feeling the tears sting her eyes and the angry hurt well up inside her as the shock started to wear off. If he came knocking on her door she would give him back his money and that key. It was the only thing to do – the decent thing.
Alice wouldn’t be on that train on Saturday. She was going to keep her promise to help out with the teas at Angela’s charity sale. She wouldn’t meet Jack in Southend, she wouldn’t see him ever again – but a part of her wanted to. A part of her wanted to take her child and run to the man she loved. Regret surged, and she wished that she’d never agreed to marry. If only she’d turned down Bob’s proposal and stayed with Nan, then she would be free – but for what? What sort of a life was Jack offering her?
Hearing her baby cry, Alice went into the kitchen and picked her up, looking down at her with love. Her heart felt as if it were being torn in two as she held Susie to her breast and rocked her. She was Jack’s child, but did he have the right to know her after the way he’d deserted them?
Besides, it was too dangerous. The Lee gang were still watching her; every so often someone would follow her when she went out with the baby, and only this morning she’d noticed a man staring at her in the market. Thus far, no one had approached her and she’d hoped that after a while they would realise it was a waste of time and give up.
No, it was stupid even to think of Jack. If he’d truly wanted her, loved her, he would have kept his promise to send for her a long time ago. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she suspected that the only reason he’d got in touch was because he needed her to fetch whatever was in that locker.
Bitterness swept through her as she remembered the way Jack had broken his promises in the past. He was no good, just as her father had warned at the start.
‘That seemed to go well,’ Wendy said, surveying the empty stalls after the sale of second-hand clothes and bits and pieces had finished. ‘I don’t know how you manage to find so many nice things to sell, Angela. I bought a good leather bag for myself.’
‘I have to thank my father for a lot of it.’ Angela turned to him with a smile. He was waiting patiently to take her home so that she could change for the evening. ‘Dad asked our neighbours if they had anything for me to sell on behalf of St Saviour’s and they overwhelmed him with stuff. He sent it up in three large boxes on the train.’
‘Nan told me you’ve raised almost a hundred pounds from the Bring and Buy evenings you’ve been holding at your home, and hers.’
‘It seems women like exchanging the clothes they don’t want for something different, so we’ve done well, but once rationing is over and there’s new stuff in the shops people won’t want second-hand so much.’
‘A lot of women won’t ever be able to afford anything else.’ Wendy laughed softly. ‘Some of these clothes are better than anything I could afford to buy new. Besides, whatever happens in future, you’ll think of something. Everyone says you’ve done wonders since you’ve been here. The children have all sorts of treats these days, and it’s all down to you.’
‘It’s a team effort—’ Angela stopped abruptly as she noticed the man standing near the hall doorway. ‘I didn’t know he was here.’
Wendy followed her gaze. ‘Who is he?’
‘His name’s Arnold.’ Angela’s father frowned. ‘He arrived at the same time as I did. You were too busy to notice, Angela.’
‘I met him at a charity meeting the other night. I can’t think what he’s doing here though.’ Angela tried not to let the others see her annoyance. ‘Come on, Dad, let’s go. I want to get changed before we go out this evening. Wendy will finish up here for me, won’t you?’
‘You know I will, Angela,’ the staff nurse said, smiling. ‘Have a lovely time with your father.’
‘Angela …’ Henry Arnold touched her arm as she was about to pass him. ‘I was hoping we might have a word?’
‘Please telephone me, Mr Arnold,’ she said. ‘This is my father – Mr Hendry. We have an appointment and must leave now.’
‘I really do need to talk to you, Angela.’
‘Another time,’ Angela said. ‘Please excuse us, we have to go.’
She took her father’s arm and propelled him away. He looked at her, puzzled by her abrupt manner, which had bordered on rudeness. ‘That isn’t like you, Angela. The man was only being polite.’
‘I know, but I don’t like him. I may have to deal with him on behalf of the charity I represent, but I don’t have to spend time with him otherwise.’
‘Not like you at all,’ her father said, puzzled. ‘Ah, here’s Adderbury. You’re not going to brush him off too, I hope?’
‘No, certainly not,’ Angela said, but smiled hesitantly as Mark came up to them. ‘You almost missed us. We had a successful afternoon.’
‘I had hoped to be here sooner, but I was delayed. I’m glad it all went well for you.’
‘Yes, it did.’ Angela smiled at him. ‘Please call me when you can, Mark. We should talk sometime, but you’re always so busy.’
‘I’ll find the time,’ he promised. ‘Have a good evening. Nice to see you, Edward. We must catch up soon.’
‘Drop by for a drink one weekend, when you’re in the country.’ The two men shook hands and they parted.
Angela opened the door of her car. She didn’t often bother to drive in town but she’d had several bits and pieces to bring over earlier.
‘Well,’ she said as she eased the car into the steady stream of traffic. ‘I think you’ve got something to tell me, Dad?’
‘It’s about your mother,’ he said. ‘Good news and … well, rather odd news too, but I’ll explain when we get to your apartment. You need to concentrate on the traffic, Angela …’
Angela installed her father in one of the most comfortable chairs, gave him a drink and then sat down opposite, looking at him expectantly. He sipped the wine, nodded his approval, placed it on the small table at his side and assumed a serious expression.
‘Your mother wrote to me. She says she feels much better and doesn’t think she needs to stay at the clinic any longer, but … she doesn’t want to come home.’
‘What do you mean, she doesn’t want to come home?’ Angela was puzzled. ‘If she feels better, why wouldn’t she come home?’
‘Apparently she wants to stay with a friend she met in Switzerland. She’s been invited to say in a villa in the South of France and that’s what she wants to do.’
‘Not come home to you? Is she cured, after only a few months?’ Angela couldn’t believe she was hearing this properly. ‘Have you been invited to this villa too?’
‘No,