Mothering Sunday

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘Well, none of it will be sorted until you do,’ Mrs Spooner warned, then after rising from her chair she instructed Tom, ‘See if you can’t get her to see sense, will you?’ And with that she hobbled from the room.

  Tom glanced at the pout on Sunday’s face and asked, ‘Are you quite sure you want to shut her out of your life, Sunday? I believe every word that Zillah said – and why should the woman be blamed when she didn’t even know you were alive? The poor soul was told that she’d given birth to yet another stillborn child. Can you even begin to imagine what that must have been like for her? And then to be told the truth when her husband has just died . . . that she’d had a daughter all along! Why, she was almost beside herself with worry when we were trying to find you. All she’s asking for is a chance to try and make up for all the lost years with you. Everyone knows how much she has always longed for a child. Won’t you at least consider giving her a chance?’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Sunday said stiffly and Tom decided to change the subject.

  Could he have known it, she thought of nothing else all week and finally on Saturday evening she made her decision. ‘Will you be going to church in the morning?’ she asked Mrs Spooner.

  ‘As if I’d miss it. It’s the Mothering Sunday service tomorrow.’

  ‘Then may I come with you?’

  ‘Just so long as you realise that Lady Huntley’s liable to be there an’ all. I don’t want you causing any trouble in church.’ She eyed the girl suspiciously but Sunday merely smiled.

  ‘As if I would.’ And it was left at that.

  The following day dawned bright and sunny and they all piled onto Mrs Spooner’s little trap and set off for the church. Primroses and wild violets adorned the countryside and the sound of birdsong accompanied their journey, mingling with the chime of church bells. It looked set to be a very special day. The evening before, Jacob and Ellie had officially announced their engagement, and today Tom and Sunday intended to ask the Reverend Lockett if he would marry them.

  Everyone in the Spooner household was excited at the prospect of the two forthcoming weddings. Treacle plodded slowly along, and as she and Tom sat squashed together on the little wooden bench seat with his arm tight about her, Sunday felt at peace with the world. The couple had had a long talk the evening before and he too was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  When they arrived at All Saints Church in Chilver’s Coton, the congregation were making their way through the churchyard to the entrance to the church but Sunday and Tom paused to buy two bunches of violets from the little old lady flower-seller who stood at the gate and who was doing a roaring trade. They then picked their way through the cemetery until they came to Daisy’s grave, where Tom gently laid his flowers and murmured his love to his sister, telling her the news about him and Sunday before heading back to the porch. Sunday smiled as she saw the children from the workhouse snaking their way along the path, followed by the kindly new housemother. She was pleased to note that they were chatting happily and that they all looked well-fed and well-clothed now.

  The church was full to capacity when they entered but then that was no surprise. The Mothering Sunday service was one of the most popular of the year and the church was packed with excited children bearing posies of wildflowers that they would present to their mothers at the end. Cissie and George waved to them and Sunday waved back. It seemed that love was in the air.

  Mrs Spooner, Sunday and Tom took a seat towards the back of the church. The front pews were already full, but over the heads of the congregation Sunday spotted Lady Huntley sitting with Zillah at the front.

  Eventually a hush fell, and after singing some hymns and saying some prayers, the reverend conducted one of the most moving services Sunday had ever heard. In it, he extolled the virtues of what being a mother entailed.

  ‘A mother’s love begins even before her child’s birth and burns more brightly than the brightest star in the universe until the second she draws her last breath,’ he told the hushed congregation. He smiled at his wife, who was sitting in the front pew staring at him adoringly as she tried to get little Phoebe to sit still. ‘It is an all-consuming, unselfish love that never dims,’ he ended, and then the children slowly began to offer their mothers their gifts. It didn’t seem to matter that most of the gifts had no monetary value whatsoever if the ecstatic smiles on the faces of the mothers was anything to go by.

  Tom gave Sunday’s fingers an encouraging squeeze and when she nervously glanced at him he nodded, smiling broadly. And so she rose from her seat and quietly walked along the aisle with her heart pounding until she came to the pew where Lady Huntley was sitting.

  ‘These are for you . . . Mother,’ she whispered, shyly offering the posy of violets she had brought from the flower lady at the lych-gate.

  ‘Oh!’ For a moment Lavinia Huntley was struck dumb as tears began to course down her cheeks. Then with a strangled sob she grasped her daughter and hugged her to her. Suddenly Sunday was crying too – really crying for the first time in years – as she nestled comfortably in her mother’s arms.

  ‘Oh, my darling girl. You’ve come back to me at last,’ Lady Huntley wept.

  Tom beamed and winked at Zillah as, arm-in-arm, mother and daughter walked down the aisle and out into the sunshine, oblivious of everyone around them, chattering away to each other fifteen to the dozen, their faces illuminated by love. As they passed, the young man heard Sunday say excitedly, ‘And as for your offer of using Treetops Manor as a home for foundling children, when Tom and I marry, we would be very happy to take you up on the offer . . . provided that you stay there too to help us, Mother. Tom will do all the odd jobs about the place, he’s very handy, and I shall do everything I can, but we are still very young, you see, and so will need someone to look to for advice.’

  Turning aside, Tom Branning hastily brushed a tear from his own eye. A great endeavour stood before them: the establishing of their home for lost and lonely children, where no child would feel unwanted, and where each child would belong.

  He, like so many others at the church today, would never forget this precious Mothering Sunday service.

  When the Reverend Lockett lit the first candle in honour of mothers everywhere, he had said it was ‘a light in our darkness, a symbol of love’. And that, to Tom and Sunday – two workhouse children – showed the path ahead, lit by that same light.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to say a huge thank you to Kate, James, Eli and everyone at Bonnier for all their love and support, not forgetting my wonderful agent, Sheila Crowley, and my brilliant copy editor, Joan Deitch. xx

  Welcome to the world of Rosie Goodwin!

  Keep reading for more from Rosie Goodwin, to discover a recipe that features in this novel and to find out more about Rosie Goodwin’s inspiration for the book …

  We’d also like to welcome you to Memory Lane, a place to discuss the very best saga stories from authors you know and love with other readers, plus get recommendations for new books we think you’ll enjoy. Read on and join our club!

  www.MemoryLane.Club

  /MemoryLaneClub

  Rosie Goodwin is the author of over twenty bestselling novels. She is the first author in the world to be allowed to follow three of Catherine Cookson’s trilogies with her own sequels. Having worked in the social services sector for many years, then fostered a number of children, she is now a full-time novelist. Rosie lives in Nuneaton, the setting for many of her books, with her husband and their beloved dogs.

  Mothering Sunday is the first novel in Rosie Goodwin’s brand new ‘Day of The Week’ collection.

  The child who is born on the Sabbath day is bonnie and blithe and good and gay . . .

  @RosieGoodwin

  /RosieGoodwinAuthor

  www.MemoryLane.club

  Also by Rosie Goodwin

  The Bad Apple

  No One’s Girl

  Dancing Till Midnight

  Tilly Trotte
r’s Legacy

  Moonlight and Ashes

  The Mallen Secret

  Forsaken

  The Sand Dancer

  Yesterday’s Shadows

  The Boy from Nowhere

  A Rose Among Thorns

  The Lost Soul

  The Ribbon Weaver

  A Band of Steel

  Whispers

  The Misfit

  The Empty Cradle

  Home Front Girls

  A Mother’s Shame

  The Soldier’s Daughter

  The Mill Girl

  The Maid’s Courage

  The Claire McMullen Series

  Our Little Secret

  Crying Shame

  Dilly’s Story Series

  Dilly’s Sacrifice

  Dilly’s Lass

  Dilly’s Hope

  The Days of The Week Collection

  Mothering Sunday

  The Little Angel

  A Mother’s Grace

  The Blessed Child

  A Maiden’s Voyage

  A Precious Gift

  Time to Say Goodbye

  Dear Friends,

  I’m so excited to be sharing Mothering Sunday, the first of my brand-new days-of-the-week series, with you all. I do hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it.

  Mother’s Day is always such an important time, a time when we can show our mums how much we appreciate all they do for us, so I found myself getting into this novel straight away. Of course, things are much more commercialised nowadays, but back in the time the book was set, children went to church with their mothers and presented them with just small gifts, which I think is lovely. As any of us who are mothers know, it is the gesture rather than the expense of the present that means so much. I have a loft full of little cards that the children have made for me over the years and they’re more precious than gold. Sadly, I lost my mum seven years ago so it’s always hard for me now on Mother’s Day when I visit Chilvers Coton churchyard with flowers for her grave.

  A lot of research went into this novel but whilst Nuneaton Workhouse was an actual place I must tell you that all the characters, including the horrid Miss Frost and the abominable Mr Pinnegar, are purely fictional, figments of my imagination.

  I truly came to adore little Sunday, bless her; all she ever wanted was a mother to love her. How heartbreaking is that? And then there were Daisy and Tommy, the kind Lady Huntley, the flamboyant Mrs Spooner and the gentle Miss Beau; so many other characters I was sad to wave farewell. Having said that, you will get to see some of them again in the next book, which focuses on Monday’s Child. In The Little Angel you will meet Kitty, who is almost too pretty for her own good! I really hope you enjoy her story.

  It was back in June 2004 when my first book was published and what a busy time it’s been since then; I can’t believe that The Little Angel is my thirtieth novel! I’m never happier than when I’m locked away in my office with my imaginary characters and can’t see ahead to a time when that will change.

  When I’m not writing my own books I’m usually reading someone else’s. Of course, Catherine Cookson was, and still is, one of my all-time favourite authors so one of the highlights of my career was when I was allowed to write sequels to her trilogies. I felt very honoured and hope that Catherine would have thought that I did her wonderful stories justice.

  Surprisingly, one of the most common questions asked by my readers is, ‘Which of your own books is your favourite?’ I can always truthfully answer, ‘The one I am working on now,’ because if I don’t strive to make each one better than the last I would feel that I was letting my fans down. For the duration of writing each book I feel what my characters feel; I laugh and cry with them and always feel sad when it’s time to let them go. But that never lasts for long – there’s soon another idea popping into my head and then I’m off again!

  And so now it’s time to put my thinking cap on for Tuesday’s Child, but first I might allow myself a few days off to potter in the garden, another love of mine. As I write this we’re entering October so I’ve no doubt there will be plenty of pruning to do!

  I shall look forward to hearing your thoughts, as always, on Mothering Sunday.

  Take care.

  Much love,

  Rosie xx

  Annie’s Fruit Scones

  Ingredients

  225 g/8 oz plain flour

  4 tsp baking powder

  pinch of salt

  55 g/2 oz butter

  28 g/1 oz sugar

  Milk to mix

  55 g/2 oz chopped cherries or raisins

  Method

  • Preheat oven to 220°C.

  • Sieve flour, baking powder and salt into a bowl.

  • Rub in the butter.

  • Add the dried fruit and sugar and mix together, adding the milk gradually until you have a soft dough.

  • Roll out to 2 cm/¾ inch thickness and cut into required shapes.

  • Place on an ungreased tin and bake in a very hot oven for approximately 10 minutes. To test if cooked, press firmly at the sides. Scones are cooked when firm to the touch.

  Serve warm with butter and jam. Enjoy!

  The Days of the Week collection

  Mothering Sunday is the first book in Rosie Goodwin’s Days of the Week collection, inspired by the Victorian ‘Days of the Week’ rhyme. If you enjoyed this, why not try the other books in the collection?

  Turn over to find out more …

  Mothering Sunday

  The child born on the Sabbath Day,

  Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

  1884, Nuneaton.

  Fourteen-year-old Sunday has grown up in the cruelty of the Nuneaton workhouse. When she finally strikes out on her own, she is determined to return for those she left behind, and to find the long-lost mother who gave her away. But she’s about to discover that the brutal world of the workhouse will not let her go without a fight.

  The Little Angel

  Monday’s child is fair of face.

  1896, Nuneaton.

  Left on the doorstep of Treetops Children’s Home, young Kitty captures the heart of her guardian, Sunday Branning, and grows into a beguiling and favoured young girl – until she is summoned to live with her birth mother. In London, nothing is what it seems, and her old home begins to feel very far away. If Kitty is to have any chance of happiness, this little angel must protect herself from devils in disguise … and before it’s too late.

  A Mother’s Grace

  Tuesday’s child is full of grace.

  1910, Nuneaton.

  When her father’s threatening behaviour grows worse, pious young Grace Kettle escapes her home to train to be a nun. But when she meets the dashing and devout Father Luke, her world is turned upside down. She is driven to make a scandalous choice – one she may well spend the rest of her days seeking forgiveness for.

  The Blessed Child

  Wednesday’s child is full of woe.

  1864, Nuneaton.

  After Nessie Carson’s mother is brutally murdered and her father abandons them, Nessie knows she will do anything to keep her family safe. As her fragile young brother’s health deteriorates and she attracts the attention of her lecherous landlord, soon Nessie finds herself in the darkest of times. But there is light and the promise of happiness if only she is brave enough to fight for it.

  A Maiden’s Voyage

  Thursday’s child has far to go.

  1912, London.

  Eighteen-year-old maid Flora Butler has her life turned upside-down when her mistress’s father dies in a tragic accident. Her mistress is forced to move to New York to live with her aunt until she comes of age, and begs Flora to go with her. Flora has never left the country before, and now faces a difficult decision – give up her position, or leave her family behind. Soon, Flora and her mistress head for Southampton to board the RMS Titanic.

  A Precious Gift

  Friday’s child is loving and giving.

  1911, Nuneaton
.

  When Holly Farthing’s overbearing grandfather tries to force her to marry a widower twice her age, she flees to London, bringing her best friend and maid, Ivy, with her. In the big smoke, Holly begins nurse training in the local hospital. There she meets the dashing Doctor Parkin, everything Holly has ever dreamt of. But soon, she discovers some shocking news that means they can never be together, and her life is suddenly thrown into turmoil. Supporting the war effort, she heads to France and throws herself into volunteering on the front line …

  Time to Say Goodbye

  Saturday’s child works hard for their living.

  1935, Nuneaton.

  Kathy has grown up at Treetops home for children, where Sunday and Tom Branning have always cared for her as one of their own. With her foster sister Livvy at her side, and a future as a nurse ahead of her, she could wish for nothing more. But when Tom dies suddenly in a riding accident, life at Treetops will never be the same again. As their financial difficulties mount, will the women of Treetops be forced to leave their home?

  Tales from Memory Lane

  Discover new stories from the best saga authors

  Available now

  Introducing a new place for story lovers – somewhere to share memories, photographs, recipes and reminiscences, and discover the very best of saga writing from authors you know and love, and new ones we simply can’t wait for you to meet.

  A new address for story lovers

  www.MemoryLane.club