Woken from her sleep by the bang of the door, Mrs Harding cried, ‘Dear lord, what’s going on?’
‘I’m afraid the answer is no to both questions,’ Carter sourly remarked. ‘Master Hugh made it very clear that he has no wish for you to join them for dinner. And absolutely refused to provide the address of the family solicitor.’
‘Oh, my word.’ Mrs Harding looked horrified. ‘Does this young lady not have the right to see her late husband’s will?’
‘Good question. I did ask him that, but since she cannot prove that they truly were married, he says no, she has no right at all.’
Brenda sighed with frustration. ‘He clearly has no notion of how difficult life was in France for us British. I’ll perhaps have a quiet word with him, and try again to convince him.’
‘No need,’ Carter said. ‘I can provide you with the necessary information. I’m fully aware of the name of the family solicitor, and where his office is situated in Manchester.’
‘That would not be a safe thing for you to do, Mister Carter. Were Hugh to realise you’d revealed it to me, he could very well dismiss you, as his father did me. I will not allow you to take that risk. I think perhaps I will go in to dinner with the family. Surely I have that right as his sister-in-law?’
‘And you did bake the pudding,’ chuckled Mrs Harding.
*
Rummaging through the few clothes she’d managed to bring with her, Brenda found little fit to wear, settling for a very plain brown skirt and a white blouse she’d bought at a market in Spain. They were at least clean, as dear Mrs Harding had washed everything for her. Walking down the grand staircase and across the slate-tiled hall took her back to the days when she’d been a humble servant here. She felt as if she should be setting the table, preparing and serving food, as she’d done back then. No wonder Hugh could not get his head around the fact that she was now a member of his family.
Melissa was in the dining room when Brenda entered; standing alone smoking a cigarette, glass in hand by the grand marble fireplace. ‘Good gracious, so you are that whip of a girl who ran off with my brother? You’ve absolutely no right to come back here.’
Gazing upon her gloriously grand sister-in-law wearing a cocktail dress of blue silk organza with a tiered skirt and low neckline, Brenda felt like a piece of scum caught on the heel of a boot. Melissa was a classic beauty with an enchanting oval face, grey-green eyes and a haze of soft, silver-blonde curls; the kind of looks that would turn any man’s head. And Mrs Harding had surely been wrong about the threat of bankruptcy. It was quite obvious this young woman was not short of money. Facing her with the courage she’d acquired over the years, Brenda managed a polite smile.
‘As you know, Jack and I left under orders from his father, and were so in love that we married. However, I am fully aware of your brother’s doubts on the status of our relationship.’
‘I’m not at all surprised,’ Melissa curtly responded as she walked over to the sideboard to pour more gin into her glass. ‘If you imagine you can stay for dinner, you couldn’t be more wrong. You were definitely not invited.’
‘That is perfectly all right. The kitchen staff are most friendly, so I would have no objection to sharing a meal with them.’
‘Which is where you truly belong.’
‘They would not agree with you on that point, not now that I’m Jack’s widow,’ Brenda firmly contested. The pomposity of this woman was irritating her enormously. Her sister-in-law clearly believed that being rich and able to parade herself in a grand dining room decked out with glorious chandeliers, velvet curtains, elegant Chinese cabinets and a table long enough to host twenty people, gave her the right to be dismissive of an ordinary working-class lass. Had she no manners? ‘There is a reason I am here. With war having broken out, Jack did make a will, to ensure that I was properly provided for. But in order to prove that we truly were man and wife, I need the details of the family solicitor. He could hopefully retrieve the necessary paperwork from France.’
Tossing her half-smoked cigarette into the fire, Melissa snorted with laughter, making her firm aquiline nose puff out. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why would he waste time and money on such a pointless task?’
Brenda quietly ground her teeth while keeping a bland smile fixed upon her face. Now was surely the moment to reveal reality. ‘It’s not pointless at all. Jack told me that he’d sent a copy of his will to the family solicitor, and as I must consider our son’s future, I need to see it.’
The silence following this statement was slightly unnerving, making Brenda almost regret having revealed the truth. The last thing she wished to talk about was the fear she felt for her lost child. A deep voice from behind broke the silence with a snarl of harsh fury.
‘What the hell are you talking about? You’ve made no mention of any son.’
Hugh had chosen that moment to walk in. Turning to face him, her heart pounding, Brenda met his gaze full on. ‘You never asked. Thomas, or Tommy, as we call him, was, sadly, not born until after his father’s death. Yet Jack was fully aware I was expecting, and looking forward to the birth of his child. As I have attempted to explain, he did make the necessary provision for his family’s future security.’
‘Where is this alleged son?’ Melissa scornfully asked, eyes narrowing as she sipped her gin. ‘We’ve no proof that he even exists.’
‘Ah, that is the problem,’ Brenda confessed. Her voice dropped as she briefly explained how she’d left him with Camille when she was arrested, believing him to be safe. And had then failed to find him once she’d escaped years later.
‘Arrested? Escaped? Are you claiming to be a spy, or do you just like making up yet more stupid stories?’ Hugh accused her.
Brenda firmly lifted her chin. ‘I’m telling you exactly what happened.’
‘Utter nonsense,’ Melissa scoffed.
Battling to remain calm, Brenda had never felt more furious. What on earth had possessed her to imagine the Stuart family would believe anything she said? Jack had been the kindest, sweetest man on earth, so why wasn’t his brother, who looked so like him, equally kind? Dressed for dinner in a smart black suit with bow tie and white shirt, he appeared most handsome, yet his manner was rude, arrogant and completely unfriendly, even if she did find herself enthralled by the sparkle in his grey eyes. ‘It is not a subject I find easy to talk about in any detail, as it’s quite painful to remember those years in an internment camp. But if you feel it necessary, I will do my best to describe how it was.’ She’d most certainly never admit to all that had happened there. Wouldn’t that give them the excuse they sought to claim that Tommy was not Jack’s son?
Hugh gave a snort of derision. ‘I’ve heard enough of your lies. Why would I believe this child to be my brother’s son when you cannot even prove you were married?’
‘What’s going on? What are you accusing Brenda of?’ Prue had walked in and glared at her sour-faced brother, a puzzled frown on her face.
‘This chit is telling even more lies in order to get her hands on our family’s money,’ Melissa stated in an imperious tone. ‘She’s claiming to have had a son by Jack, but there’s absolutely no evidence of that fact.’
Prue gasped, and with a happy smile on her face clutched Brenda’s hands. ‘You have a son? Why didn’t you tell me?’
Brenda nodded, tears filling her eyes. ‘Because I find it so hard to talk about. He’s lost, as is Camille’s cousin, who was helping to look after him. I’ve spent years searching for him, and came back in the hope he might be here with his grandmother. But with Camille gone, I can’t understand why Adèle hasn’t been in touch. Where is she? And how on earth am I going to find my son if no 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 hi
s 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.’
Nine
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 never think things through properly, just follow your heart and not your head.’
‘Not a bad policy,’ Prue said with a wry smile as she took a grateful sip. ‘Brenda is my friend, has been from when she first came to work here, so why would I not be fond of her?’
Her mind flew back to the day they’d met, making her smile at the memory of how Brenda had chased and stalked the hens one evening, pounced and dashed about in an attempt to grab them and shoo the little creatures into their hut. Tripping over a bunch of flapping hens she’d fallen flat in the mud, then watched in amazement as they’d formed an orderly queue in their correct peck
ing order, hopped through the pop hole of the hen hut and settled on to their perches for the night. It was then that she’d heard old Joe laughing his head off.
‘They know what they’re doing better than thee, lass,’ he’d said with a chuckle as he’d helped to pull her out of the muddy mess.
‘Oh, how clever they are. I didn’t know they could do that, having lived in a city all my life. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, lass,’ and he’d walked away still chuckling.
Laughing too, Prue had gone to show Brenda how to lock the hut doors with a padlock. ‘That was very brave of you, not to cry when you fell.’
‘I think I’ve a lot to learn,’ Brenda had woefully remarked.
‘Well, I’ve learned a lot from old Joe too, not only about hens but also sheep and cows. Best of all, how to grow fruit and vegetables, which is what I love doing most.’
‘I’m not even as good at cooking as I’d thought, or not according to Mrs Harding. So I’ve a lot to learn from her too,’ Brenda had admitted.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll get there. And Joe will help. He’s worked on our farm for most of his life, ever since he was a boy of fourteen.’
Now the old man was crusty and bent, his face brown and lined as a leaf, his small frame battered by wind and weather. Prue still felt a great fondness for him, as if he were her grandfather, having always felt much closer to him than her domineering father. Fortunately, the responsibility for the farm had been left in old Joe’s hands, and Hugh’s, of course. Although how her brother was going to manage to run both farm and biscuit factory in future, Prue really had no idea. She did not envy the pressure placed upon him, which seemed to be stressing him out.
Turning to smile now at her equally bossy sister, Prue stoutly stuck to the defence of her friend. ‘I’m sure Brenda was married to our Jack.’
‘We have only her word for that.’
‘Hopefully that situation will change, once she has spoken to the family solicitor and he’s recovered the necessary documentation. Then you and Hugh will have to accept the truth.’
Always In My Heart Page 6