It was the following morning, having recovered and come round, that Megan revealed to this kind policewoman how Harold Mullins had grabbed her when he saw her walking to the library the previous afternoon. ‘He told me that my mother had fallen ill and he must take me to her, so I got into his car, believing what he said. Instead of taking me home or to a hospital where I assumed she’d be, he took me down to the Rochdale Canal and shoved me into that barge. I was terrified. It came to me then that it was not Willie who’d attacked me back in the war but his father, something I hadn’t been aware of.’
Evie held her daughter close, riveted with fear. ‘Joanne did recently explain to me what you’d suffered, even though she’d no conviction of who it might have been. What has Mullins done to you now, love? I hope nothing too dreadful.’
‘Probably because I was screaming, kicking and fighting him like mad, doing everything I could to keep him off me, he became irritated and tied me to that bed, ordering me to calm down. He said that he’d be back to see me later in the day, as I was a pretty girl he adored and would bring me some food. I felt sick and lay weeping for hours, dreading he would again attempt to assault me. By the time he returned towards evening I was starving hungry, had wet the bed and was in a dreadful state. He untied me, gave me a dish of soup and pushed his thing out at me, as he had done all those years ago. This time, instead of falling on my knees I threw the soup back at him and kicked him, which made him scream. Then he smacked my face hard and tied me up again as I passed out. Am I safe or did he indeed assault me?’
‘I’ve spoken to the doctor who has thankfully assured me that you were not raped,’ Joanne said, giving her a smile. ‘Listening to what you did to Mullins, he’s probably in a sorry state himself, after you kicked him. Good for you. You did the right thing to protect yourself. He then found his son had arrived to challenge him. Thanks to Willie, who guessed where you might be, we were able to rescue you, lovey,’ Joanne said.
‘And I called the police the moment they left,’ Evie said, giving a grin. ‘In spite of the terror you’ve been through, darling girl, you are now safe. What a dreadful man Mullins is.’
‘We are aware of that,’ the policewoman agreed, telling them that Mullins had been arrested and charged with the murder of his wife as well as this kidnap and attempted assault, as a result of what they’d heard from his son, Willie.
It was then that a freezing cold reverberated through Evie as a terrible thought entered her head. ‘Did Harold Mullins by any chance also kill my husband? I found it hard to understand why Donald would commit suicide when he was recovering well and clearly still adored me and his entire family, in spite of the mental issues he’d suffered as an ex-PoW. So what if he didn’t?’
This was a shock now shared by the policewoman. Carefully listening to Evie’s story, she gave a promise to fully investigate this possibility too and went off to speak to her colleagues. Some time later they were informed that Harold Mullins had been charged with that too.
Bernie arrived at the family’s flat late that afternoon, Joanne having rung the landladies to inform them Megan had been found. He was delighted to see she was safe and well and gave her and Joanne a hug. He then listened in dismay to what she’d gone through and how Willie had fortunately helped them to discover where she’d been hidden.
Giving Bernie a sly grin, Danny said, ‘Actually, we did wonder whether you’d been the one to run off with her, since you’d disappeared.’
‘What? I was searching for her too, spent hours getting on and off trains to explore various stations and platforms. Feeling very much in despair and getting nowhere, I went back to Jubilee House and found my aunts were also looking to see if she was with any of her friends or hiding in the school. I too helped search various parts of Blackpool. What a nightmare it was.’
‘So why didn’t you ring me?’ Joanne asked quietly.
‘I did, love. I rang the hotel a couple of times, although not early yesterday morning when I was stuck on a train. They told me you weren’t there but they’d give you a message when you returned.’
‘Oh dear, I only popped back once to see if you’d rung, being fully engaged in searching for her too, but no one told me that you had. Maybe the person who took your call just put a note in my room and I was so preoccupied I didn’t think to go up there. Sorry about that. I did ring Aunt Annie at one point and she told me where she believed you were. Nor did I have time to return again to the hotel once we headed for that barge.’
‘I would never hurt Megan, Danny. I’ve always looked upon her as a little sister, having known her since she was quite young.’
‘Don’t fret about that, he was just in a bit of a mix-up trying to decide where she was and I stoutly defended you,’ Joanne told him, giving him a kiss on his cheek, her adoring gaze riveted upon him.
‘Aye, I don’t reckon I was too serious about making that charge,’ Danny said. ‘Just feeling in a panic. I apologize. I’ve been accused of wrong things too. Harold Mullins, on the other hand, has escaped being charged for years over the horrors and deaths he’s been responsible for. He ruined his wife and son’s life and now Mam’s and ours. What a piece of muck he is.’
Walking her back to the hotel, Bernie kept his arm around Joanne’s shoulders and she tucked hers around his waist. As they reached a quiet part by St John’s churchyard on Byrom Street, he pulled her closer, stroking his hands over her hair, cheeks and neck. Joanne’s senses skittered at the thrill of his touch.
When he slid down on one knee, a smile tugging at his lips, he said, ‘Will you please marry me in this lovely church. I do love you, darling.’
Joanne gave a little gasp of excitement. ‘Oh, yes please. I love you too.’ Locked in more kisses she felt a lighting of passion within her that felt utterly intoxicating. They were indeed a couple in love.
Epilogue
Evie was in a state of joy. It was 1953, the year of the coronation for Elizabeth II. It would be such a delight to see this young Queen crowned and her entire family was coming to meet up for a wonderful get-together and celebration. It would be even more fun than the VE Day at the end of the war when she’d felt desperate for news of her daughters. What a nightmare she’d gone through during and after the war, feeling she’d lost her beloved children. Once having finally found them again she’d struggled to cope with their problems. Her younger daughter in particular had not been easy, very silent and dismissive with little memory of her mother and father, not at first caring a jot about them. It had taken a while before her elder daughter had been prepared to reveal her own problems, as well as her sister’s. Such was the reality of being an evacuee in those days.
Now, life had improved enormously. Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay had reached the summit of Everest, the world’s highest mountain on 29 May. How wonderful for them to be the first to achieve that. Lancashire was in a much better state and, according to Megan, two local football teams had taken part in the FA Cup Final at Wembley, Blackpool having beaten Bolton, a match her young daughter had naturally gone to watch. As Evie happily cut up loaves of bread and made sandwiches in preparation for this event, her mind played over the improvements that had entered all of their lives.
Joanne had married Bernie early in 1948 at St John’s Church in Castlefield and all the family had attended, including those lovely landladies. His Aunt Annie and Aunt Sadie had then chosen to retire, moving out to live in Lytham St Annes. Bernie, her new son-in-law, assisted by his wife Joanne, had taken over Jubilee House in Blackpool, which they brilliantly ran. Evie loved visiting them to stay for a couple of weeks each summer and the odd few days every now and then throughout the year. Now they had three children: four-year-old twin girls, Ellie and Marigold, and a two-year-old little boy named Donald. These treasures were very close to their parents, uncle, cousins and aunts, and in particular to herself as their grandmother. Evie often had them come to stay with her. What a thrill that was.
Megan had continued to live at Jubilee Hou
se with Joanne during term-time, joining Evie for every school holiday, which had been a real joy. What fun they’d had together over recent years, visiting places such as Belle Vue as well as their favourite cinemas and theatres, not least various sports, which of course Megan had always taken quite a shine to. Now aged nineteen, Megan was attending Edge Hill college in Ormskirk, working hard and planning to become a teacher.
As for Danny, when he was eighteen, in 1949, he became attracted to the daughter of a local farmer whom he apparently met running a vegetable stall on Campfield Market. The following year they’d become engaged, planning to marry when he turned twenty-one. He was offered a job by her father on the farm in the countryside out on the Pennines not too far from Castlefield, which he loved as he did his fiancée. They were now happily married and had a baby son.
Her niece Cathie now had a daughter of her own; in addition to the lovely adopted Heather she’d taken into her heart, being her mum ever since her sister had died. Her friend Brenda, who lived close to Danny, was also enjoying life having resolved her own problems. What a joy they were too. And what a relief that they’d all finally recovered from the effects of that blasted war.
Poor Willie had taken some time to satisfactorily dispose of his own issues but finally sorted himself and his life out. He closed his father’s business, ignoring the debts still owed, and found himself a job in the local rubber factory. Recently he seemed to be settling into a good relationship with a young girl, obviously hoping she would ultimately agree to marry him.
As far as she herself was concerned, Evie thought her life too was in a much better state. As she continued to set out the food she’d prepared, including beef sausages, meat pies and cakes, she gazed around with satisfaction at this delightful small kitchen. She’d thankfully moved out of the flat shortly after Joanne’s wedding and happily settled in this lovely prefab with a pretty garden in Heaton Park. She was still fully engaged with lacemaking, by hand as well as working on those looms with her friends in the rented outbuilding by the mill. They were all now earning a good income. And Davie helped by selling products to various shops in addition to assisting her at her stall on Campfield Market.
Losing her husband had been the worst disaster she’d had to deal with. Mullins had finally confessed to killing Donald, wanting rid of him so that he could take control of Evie. How hard she’d had to battle with him to make sure he didn’t succeed with that. Eventually she’d forced herself to come to terms with Donald’s death, even though she would forever keep him in her heart. And she did have a good friend, Davie, who’d helped her so many times in the past with simple tasks as well as now with her job. Over time he’d started to devote more attention to her, and their relationship had become more interesting and far closer, very much an important part of her life. One of these days they might even decide to marry. He had asked her and Evie was seriously considering this prospect. Right now he was readily arranging chairs in the living room in preparation for this event. What a wonderful family she now had.
Today when they arrived she gave them all a hug and happily cuddled her grandchildren. They were all looking so well dressed, Joanne gorgeous in a pale lemon taffeta dress with a neat bow at the front of her narrow waistline. Megan was wearing a white circular skirt coated with blue flowers; one that Evie herself had made for her. Even all the young men were smartly attired, Davie in particular. It was, of course, a most special day.
They all settled on the chairs in front of the small black-and-white TV to watch the coronation, save for her grandchildren who played around, giggling and rolling about on the rug. It went on for quite a few hours so when it was largely over they went out to enjoy a party, carefully carrying the food she’d prepared.
The street was lined with rows of tables and chairs, packed with their neighbours all engaged in fun and laughter, children running around having a great time. After carrying out their chairs and settling at their table, they happily tucked into the delicious ham sandwiches, salad, meat pies, sausage rolls and cakes she’d made, as well as pots of tea for the ladies and bottles of beer for the young men. Nearby they could see a bonfire roasting hot potatoes and there was even treacle toffee available for the children. Looking around to meet the sparkling glow in the eyes of her darling daughters and son, it came to Evie that her beloved family felt deeply thankful that they’d rediscovered all they’d lost with regard to their relationship during the war. Thanks to the love and support they’d given each other since, they’d finally managed to dismiss all the pain they’d suffered. Peace was at last here to stay and in Evie’s heart.
Keep reading for an extract from another
spellbinding tale from Freda Lightfoot
One
1944
Rain pounded upon the windows as the small bus wound its way along narrow lanes. The sound of its grinding gears as it lurched around a bend and began to climb steeply upwards stirred Brenda from a deep sleep. Blinking herself awake, she gazed out at the scramble of sharp peaks, jutting rocks and smooth green-humped hills, disappointed they were not lit by the warmth of September sunshine. Yet she felt some relief to have at last reached the Pennines. The journey had been long and difficult. She still shivered at the memory of being halted and searched by a German guard at the foot of the Pyrenees in Spain. A terrifying moment! Now, after years of danger she was at last safe; in a bus driving mile upon mile over beautiful open moors cloaked in purple heather.
Eventually the vehicle stopped and the driver called out, ‘Trowbridge Hall.’ Hitching her heavy bag high on to her shoulder, Brenda climbed out of the warmth of the bus into the chill damp of the valley. When first she’d set off from France she’d felt dizzy with anticipation, filled with hope. But much as she had longed to reach her destination, now a nervous tension was setting in. She could remember all too well the scowls, furious arguments and strong tone of disapproval on the day she’d been thrown out of the manor house all those years ago.
Today it felt strangely silent as Brenda walked down the rutted track, the only sound that of her boots squelching in the mud, a clogging mist swirling about her. Thankfully it had at last stopped raining. Turning a corner, she paused to gaze up at the tall chimneys, mullioned windows and grey stone walls of this grand house. For a moment her nervousness faded even if the mist did not. When at a low ebb during her recent troubles she would often bring to mind the majesty of these rolling hills, and the autumn glory of the scabious, goldenrod and blue harebells that clustered the verges. The memory of this place had at times helped to keep her sane.
Her heartbeat quickened as she recalled coming to work here back in the spring of 1939. That was the day she and Jack had first met, and despite her being no more than a mere scullery maid and he the son of a wealthy land owner, they’d fallen in love almost at first sight. At just seventeen she’d been young and eager for a new life, utterly captivated by his good looks, his gentle kindness, and the way his blue-grey eyes smiled at her. Whenever her day’s work ended and she’d take a walk for a breath of fresh air, Jack would be sitting on a wall or leaning against a tree waiting for her.
‘I thought I’d show you around,’ he’d said with a twinkling smile the first time she’d found him there. The thought had thrilled her.
‘Oh, that would be lovely.’ She’d felt herself blushing even as her insides tingled with excitement.
They’d stepped out along the path into the wood, the dog at his heels as Jack explained how he didn’t want her to get lost. ‘It’s not a good idea to venture too far on your own as it’s all too easy to lose your way in these woods,’ he’d warned.
‘I confess I am more accustomed to the busy streets of Manchester,’ Brenda had admitted, gazing in wonder at the bluebells in bloom. It was May and she could hear the rippling chatter of fieldfares celebrating the coming of warmer weather. ‘Or at least the Castlefield part of the city. I’m more used to walking along canal towpaths than in woodlands. Never really been out much in the countryside bef
ore, but it is so beautiful here I’d love to explore it.’
‘Then take care if you set out for a walk to always leave markers, such as a small pile of stones at every turn in the path to mark your way. We call them cairns. Then you can retrace your steps by following them on your return.’
‘What a wonderful idea. Thank you, I’ll remember that.’
‘And if you should ever get lost, follow a stream downhill towards the river, then walk north along the riverbank back to the house. You can judge the direction by checking the green moss that grows on the northern side of the trees. It certainly does here in the Pennines. But it would be safer and much more fun, don’t you think, if we were to walk out together? And Kit does love a good walk,’ he’d said, introducing her to the farm collie.
Meeting his gaze, she knew in that moment they were meant for each other, and his desire for them to walk out together had little to do with the dog. The expression in his eyes was utterly captivating, reaching to the heart of her.
After that, it seemed perfectly natural for them to meet up every single evening. And when he eventually stole a kiss she’d responded with eagerness, loving it when he almost lifted her off her feet to gather her in his arms. Explosions of pleasure had shot through her, almost as if she’d been waiting her entire life for this moment.
Fond as Brenda was of the city of Manchester where she’d been raised in an orphanage by nuns and still had many friends, she instantly fell in love with the beauty of Saddleworth, and the dramatic and rugged Pennine hills and moorland. She soon came to think of herself as a country girl, if working class and a bit plain and plump with fluffy brown hair. Jack, however, always regarded her as gorgeously curvaceous, and adored the twinkle in her downward-sloping brown eyes. It was certainly true that she was rather well endowed, but liked to think that her round face generally appeared cheerful, even if there was sometimes a flutter of nerves behind her eyes. How she’d loved it when he’d whispered such compliments as he kissed her. She smiled now at the memory.
Peace In My Heart Page 26