Freda Lightfoot

Always In My Heart


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one has her address?’

      ‘So you’re attempting to put the blame upon other people when it was you who abandoned your child,’ Hugh retorted. ‘Even when you know from personal experience how wrong that is. If you were planning to move him out of Paris, you would surely know where he was going?’

      Hating his tone of voice, Brenda stuck firmly to her courage. ‘I was arrested, quite out of the blue, simply for being British. There was no time to organise or check anything.’

      ‘Why would we believe a word you say?’ Melissa pompously stated. ‘This is a tale you’ve invented in order to get your greedy hands on Jack’s money. I have four children and will not for one moment allow you to rob them of their rightful inheritance.’

      Prue put her arm about her friend. ‘I do not believe Brenda is attempting any such thing. She is simply doing what is right for her own child.’

      ‘We have absolutely no evidence that he really is Jack’s son,’ her sister staunchly repeated. ‘And Mama did once write to say that this strip of a girl accepted an invitation to join a brothel. So we’re perfectly well aware she’s a whore.’

      Brenda gasped, shock reverberating through her as she met the scathing gaze of this snobby young woman. ‘How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I did nothing of the sort! Yes, a man did offer me a job in what I presumed to be a hotel. But when I found out exactly what it was, I immediately left. I ran away as fast as I could, in fact.’

      Melissa gave a caustic little laugh. ‘You expect us to believe that too, do you?’

      ‘It is the truth.’

      ‘You no doubt bestowed your favours upon the Germans like the harlot you clearly are. Otherwise why would Mama mention that fact in her letter?’

      ‘I do not for a moment believe that dear Camille accused me of being such an immoral creature. She would simply have been describing how difficult life was in France back then. And how the Nazis were so against the British, it put me in grave danger.’

      ‘She’s just making excuses,’ Melissa retorted, turning to her brother. ‘Blaming the war and everyone else for her own stupid mistakes.’

      Hugh stepped forward to confront Brenda with a weary sigh. ‘I’m afraid my sister is making a valid point. This child could well be the illegitimate son of a German, and not our brother’s at all. Having chosen to stay in Paris and live with the enemy following Jack’s death, you were probably willing to spread your favours in order to remain free of internment, although it clearly didn’t work.’

      ‘I did not choose to live with the enemy, nor give myself to them!’ How dare they accuse her of such behaviour? No wonder she’d found it difficult to admit she’d given birth to Jack’s child after his death. Yet Brenda did still need to find her son, and then consider his future. Even Camille had insisted that she make a rightful claim for Tommy’s inheritance. Oh, if only the poor lady were here to support and welcome her.

      Giving a disdainful little smile, Melissa set down her empty glass and smartly folded her arms. ‘You are no longer welcome here.’

      Brenda almost laughed. ‘I never was.’

      ‘Then please leave now,’ Hugh ordered, and firmly pressed the bell to call Carter.

      The butler instantly appeared, his expression looking very much as if he’d been listening outside the door to the entire conversation.

      ‘Show this madam out, please, Carter, and do not allow her to enter the house ever again.’

      ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Prue cried, looking shocked. ‘You can’t do this to her.’

      ‘It’s all right, Prue,’ Brenda said, blinking back tears. ‘I need to return to Manchester anyway in order to find myself a job. We can deal with this matter some other time.’

      As Carter held open the door to show her out, Prue stepped up to her brother with anger etched into every line of her lovely face. ‘What on earth is happening to you? You’re turning into a real bully, just like Papa. You’ve no right to treat dear Brenda in this cruel fashion.’

      ‘I can do what I damn well please. I’m in charge here, not you! And we’re all aware of your love of rebellion. This is no longer even your home, as you chose to occupy one of the cottages we should be letting out to a tenant.’

      ‘Thank goodness I did, since I have every right to my independence and not be ruled by a tyrant like you. Like me, Brenda is a widow and she too has rights, namely to see her late husband’s will.’ And smartly spinning on her heel, Prue stalked out of the room in the wake of her friend.

      They met up some ten minutes later in the kitchen where Brenda was putting on her coat, hat and scarf. Carter the butler fetched her brown suitcase and Mrs Harding quickly packed some food into a paper bag for her journey.

      ‘You surely don’t have to leave this very minute,’ Prue said.

      ‘I’m afraid that’s what I’ve been instructed to do. Don’t worry, Carter is taking me to the station and I’m sure there’ll be a train along soon. I’ll be able to stay with Cathie in Castlefield. If not, I’ll sleep in the waiting room,’ Brenda assured her. Wrapping her arms about her friend as they said goodbye at the kitchen door, Prue whispered in her ear: ‘Fairhurst and Emmerson is the firm of solicitors used by the family. You’ll find them in John Dalton Street. Do remember you are welcome to come and stay with me in my little cottage any time you like. Please do, lovey.’

      Watching from the dining-room window as the girl was driven away by Carter at dusk, a wave of guilt washed over Hugh. Where on earth would she go at this time of night? Had he become so torn by personal anguish that he’d ceased to show any concern for others? Had he done the wrong thing, he wondered, by being so dismissive towards her? He surely had the right to protect the family’s future, although admittedly he’d been in something of a state on the day she’d arrived, having only recently buried his beloved fiancée.

      But then nothing seemed to be going right these days. He felt beset by problems.

      As if he didn’t have enough family issues to deal with, he’d spent the entire afternoon caught up in a dreadful union meeting doing battle against impossible demands. When he’d refused to comply with his workers’ requests, a strike had been called and they’d all walked out. They were objecting to everything: the number of hours they worked, the level of their pay, the shortage of staff and even the limited time allowed for a tea break, assuming there was any tea available. Had they forgotten there was a war on? There’d been a considerable growth in trade unions and strikes, workers unwilling to put up with difficult conditions, many of them obstinate women, almost as if they possessed more rights than soldiers.

      Men had gone to fight while women had taken on their work. This had, of course, given them a huge sense of independence, which would soon come to an end once the war was over and the fighting men returned home. There were some tasks, such as management, Hugh was still reluctant to offer them. Yet male managers were hard to find, so all responsibility fell entirely upon him.

      Now, despite having more bills to pay and higher wages to find, the factory was at a stand still. The bank, too, had put a stop upon any more loans to help tide him over. No wonder he frequently lost his temper whenever creditors and employees bitterly complained, let alone stupid girls with no morals making claims upon his brother’s inheritance. People constantly seemed to be making demands upon him. Did they imagine he was the richest man in the kingdom?

       *

      ‘What on earth possessed you to defend that chit of a girl?’ Melissa truculently remarked. She’d tripped across the kitchen garden the following afternoon in her high heels to present her younger sister with a mug of Camp coffee, wishing to take the opportunity to give her a good telling off, as she so liked to do. ‘You