Lizzie's Secret

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘When can we move in?’

  ‘I’ll telephone my uncle’s lawyer and tell him to serve notice and as soon as he says the house is empty we’ll go. It’s a good thing I hadn’t given notice on my flat just yet.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Beth said. ‘I’m glad I didn’t say yes when Bernie asked me to marry him, Lizzie. I was in love with Mark, I still do love him, but I’ve accepted that he’s gone, Lizzie. but you were right. I’m going to wait for the right man – a man I can love as I loved Mark.’

  *

  Lizzie telephoned the lawyer with her decision and he agreed that she had made a sensible choice.

  ‘I’m able to tell you that my client has accepted your terms on the cobbler’s shop, Mrs Oliver. He is anxious to go ahead and I believe you will receive your money in about six weeks.’

  ‘Thank you. You will let me know when I can move into my house.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Lizzie’s mind was busy as she made herself poached egg on toast. Ed was not happy in his lodgings and she believed he might be ready for a place of his own again, but she wasn’t quite sure how to put the suggestion to him. It would mean a bus ride every morning and evening for him to get to Oliver’s but she would charge him no more than ten shillings for the rent and she happened to know he was paying twice that for a room, breakfast and evening meal…

  After the dishes were finished, Lizzie looked about her. She had half her stuff in boxes but she couldn’t be bothered to unpack it all again, just the things she would need to see her through another month or so…

  Remembering the letter her lawyer had given her, Lizzie took a cup of tea through to the sitting room and slit the envelope. My very dear Lizzie, Uncle Jack had written.

  I’ve wanted to tell you the truth for a long time, but the doctor thought it best that you should remember in your own way or not at all.

  Lizzie closed her eyes, uncertain that she wanted to go on because her aunt had already told her in a way that had brought great distress. She wished that she’d been told everything years before, but it hardly mattered now. She was about to fold the letter and replace it in the envelope when the next sentence caught her eye.

  It was my fault, Lizzie. I sent you for those wretched cigarettes, but you were gone so long. I became worried when you didn’t return, and I went to the police. They told me a nurse had found you, and I was so upset, guilty because of what I’d done… You were attacked and abused, Lizzie, and because of that you were ill for a long time – and I blame myself for sending you out that night.

  I hope in time you will forgive me for ruining your life. I loved you so much and I’ve done what little I can to make up for what happened…

  Your contrite and loving uncle.

  Lizzie sat by the fire in the front room and picked up her sketchbook, but her eyes were moist and she didn’t feel like working, because she just wished she could talk to her uncle tell him how grateful she was – how much she loved him. She was staring into space, half asleep when her front doorbell rang.

  Who could that be at this hour? She was reluctant to answer, because it was getting dark and nearly nine in the evening, but it might be important… Reluctantly, she got to her feet and ran down the stairs, opening the door just as the man was turning away. She recognised him instantly and called to him, ‘Ed, is that you?’

  He turned with a smile. ‘Forgive me for disturbing you at this hour, but I’ve only just learned what Oliver did to you…’

  ‘Come up into the flat, Ed,’ Lizzie invited and made sure her blackout was in place before putting the light on. ‘I wanted to see you, but when you didn’t come to see me I thought perhaps… you might blame me too.’

  ‘He ordered me not to, said you didn’t want to see anyone. Then I found out he’s finishing with the special hats and I demanded the truth. I told him he’s a damned fool and I’ve left Oliver’s,’ he said, turning to her as she locked the door behind them. ‘It’s obvious why you didn’t tell him, because you wanted to spare them pain – and I don’t believe for one moment that you would have cheated on your husband.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Lizzie said. ‘Something happened – a quarrel that may have contributed to Harry’s distress, but I had written to tell him I wanted him home so that we could start again.’

  ‘If you quarrelled it was his fault; the lad always had a jealous streak and a temper like his father and his uncle. I know you, Lizzie, and I would trust you with my life.’

  ‘Oh, Ed, thank you,’ she said, her throat catching with emotion. ‘It makes me feel so much better.’

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Carry on as best I can,’ she said. ‘I’ve bought some rolls of material from Arthur Stockton; he’s gone to the country to be with his daughter – and I’ve taken over his lease. It’s only for five years, but long enough to discover whether I can make a go of my own millinery business.’

  ‘At one time I thought of working with him – and I would have if you hadn’t started designing for us… it’s a pity he’s gone.’

  ‘Yes, his hats were good quality.’

  ‘Better than some of Oliver’s,’ Ed said. ‘I’m going to work in a boot factory – but over the years I’ve acquired things I need for the hat making, which I kept in the shed outside. They weren’t burned, Lizzie, and you can have them if they’re of any use – and I’d be glad to help you on Saturdays and Sundays too, if that doesn’t bother you – we could produce more of your special styles.’

  ‘Oh, Ed, that is the best news I’ve had in ages,’ Lizzie said. ‘It would help me so much if you could produce a few new shapes each week for me to work on. I don’t know how long my stock will last but…’

  ‘I might be able to help there,’ Ed said. ‘I’ve made contacts over the years – with suppliers that Oliver wouldn’t give a contract to because he said they were too dear – but their stock was the best, Lizzie. He’s always bought overseas when he could, but I like local suppliers and I bought a few rolls of good quality velvet last year from a young lad just started up as a salesman. He told me that if ever I needed more supplies to come to him. Of course the velvet was lost in the fire but…’ Ed paused for a moment, and then went on in a firm tone, ‘I can give him a ring and he will call to see you here. I know we have to comply with certain regulations, but that should be easy enough to work out – there isn’t anything about Oliver’s business I don’t know, which is why he tried to hang on to me.’

  ‘Oh, Ed,’ Lizzie said. ‘I bought a bit of velvet too. I’ve done some new shapes, tam-o’-shanters, caps and a soft turban which clings softly to the back of the head – it’s the softer line a lot of women like at the moment.’

  ‘I think we’ll find most of what we want right here in this country. Local factories making simple, good quality materials we don’t have to import. Maybe we shan’t find all the exotic bits and pieces we’ve been used to – but we probably don’t need them.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘They tell me there’s a war on…’

  Lizzie’s eyes stung with tears because she’d been given fresh hope for the future. ‘You are so very kind…’

  ‘I like working for you and that’s the truth. Bert Oliver treats his workers like he owns them; you treat us as individuals, Lizzie. I’ll be glad to do what I can for you.’

  Lizzie gave a scream of delight and hugged the older man. His plain, homely face broke into a smile and he gave her a quick bear hug back.

  ‘I was going to come round and ask if you’d like to take the flat over Stockton’s workshops. I’m going to live in my uncle’s house with Beth and the children – and I could let you have the flat for ten shillings a week.’

  ‘Offer it to me? That’s really nice of you.’ Ed looked pleased, and then a flicker of excitement showed in his eyes. ‘It’s worth more than that, Lizzie. I’ll give you fifteen. I’ve been looking for a place I can afford and that would be ideal, because I could work for you when I’m not at the boot factory.’ />
  ‘As soon as we start to get some customers for the workshop, you can work full-time if you want. If we can keep going long enough, you can be my partner and we’ll make beautiful hats that everyone will want…’

  ‘That we will, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘I’ve often thought of having my own workshops – and if you’d really have me as your partner, I’ll put in a bit of my savings to buy us more stock.’

  ‘Of course I meant it,’ Lizzie said, and suddenly her future seemed to be glowing. Somehow she and Ed would make it through the dark days of war; they would keep going for as long as they could buy stock and sell hats… Women loved Lizzie’s hats, particularly the different and unusual styles she could produce with Ed’s skill and her flair, and she knew she could sell them to her special customers. ‘What shall we call the new business?’

  ‘We’ll use your name, Lizzie,’ Ed told her firmly. ‘I’m a sleeping partner and we’ll have a lawyer do it right, keep it fair, because you’re the senior partner, Lizzie, and you should have the bigger share – but I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to make this work for you.’

  ‘For us, Ed,’ she said and smiled. ‘Life hurts, Ed, and we’ve both suffered, but together we’ll get through somehow…’

  ~

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  Author’s Note

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  Afterword

  ‘I found this emulsion paint in the shed,’ Mrs Court said, handing the half-empty tin to Lizzie and looking about with interest. ‘You’ve almost finished the showroom, but this might do out the back somewhere.’

  ‘Oh, good, it’s white,’ Lizzie said as she took the tin. ‘Ed could do with this for the ceilings in the flat…’

  ‘Well, I’ll get off now. Beth said to tell you she would be coming round later to help you finish getting things straight – Do you think you’ll have the showroom open for Christmas week?’

  ‘Yes, I’m hoping…’ Lizzie broke off, her breath catching in her throat as the showroom door opened and someone walked in. ‘Sebastian…’ her heart missed a beat and sudden tears stung her eyes.

  ‘I was told I might find you here,’ Sebastian said. ‘I’ve got a couple of days’ leave and thought I might give you a hand…’

  ‘Well, I’ll be going, Lizzie,’ Mrs Court said, looking curiously at Sebastian as he lifted his hat to her. ‘Don’t forget we’re expecting you for lunch on Sunday, love… unless you have other plans…’

  Lizzie’s heart was racing so fast that she could hardly speak. ‘Sebastian, I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again… who told you I was here?’

  ‘I think her name was Tilly,’ Sebastian said. ‘She was just leaving Oliver’s and I asked her if she knew where I could find you. I went to the flat first but someone else is living there…’

  ‘Yes, I’ve moved into a house with Beth and her children,’ Lizzie said. ‘A lot has happened since I last saw you…’

  ‘I was sorry to hear about Harry’s accident…’ Sebastian frowned. ‘I don’t know if you’ve been told, Lizzie, but the brakes on that car were faulty, and the steering rod broke – it was a flaming liability and shouldn’t have been on the road.

  Lizzie didn’t need to ask how Sebastian knew. She simply took it for granted that he was telling her the truth, because he was Sebastian and he would make it his business to know – just as he’d known how to find her.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks. ‘I never believed it was suicide but there was a lot of talk – and Bert Oliver blamed me.’

  ‘Then he is a fool and I’ll tell him so…’ Sebastian glanced about him. ‘Are you going to be all right here, Lizzie? If you need money…?’

  ‘I used the money you sent me, and Arthur was very generous to me, letting me have the lease here cheap; besides, I have some money my uncle left me.’ Lizzie hesitated shyly. ‘I wanted to thank you – and I’ll pay you back one day, Sebastian.’

  ‘That money was a gift because I wanted to make sure that you were all right. I don’t want any talk of paying me back or gratitude’. Sebastian moved towards her and then stopped, as if afraid of overstepping the line. ‘I heard you had a daughter?’

  ‘Yes. Beth is looking after her this morning, and then her mother will take over this afternoon – that was Mrs Court you just met.’

  A smile lit his eyes. ‘Ah, the curious lady – I’m not sure she approves of me visiting you, Lizzie.’

  ‘She’s always been protective of me,’ Lizzie smiled as she saw the mischief in his eyes. ‘She wouldn’t want me to be hurt, you see…’

  Sebastian took a few steps closer. ‘Do you think it’s my intention to hurt you, Lizzie Larch?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she whispered. ‘I used to think you were a flirt, Sebastian – but I know you better now.’

  ‘Do you?’ he asked softly, looking down into her eyes. ‘I might hurt you by disappearing and never coming back, or I might hurt you by being killed, because I shan’t pretend that what I do isn’t dangerous – but I promise I’ll never hurt you because I don’t care for you, my lovely Lizzie.’

  ‘None of us can promise that we’ll be safe these days,’ she said. ‘We’ve had bombs nearby and gas explosions. It’s a case of taking what we can from life while we can… don’t you think?’

  ‘Then will you come to dinner with me this evening? Will you take a chance on me, Lizzie Larch – even though I can only promise you two days?’

  She looked up into his eyes and liked what she saw there, because mixed with the mischief and the challenge was love.

  ‘Yes, I’ll take a chance on you, Sebastian Winters,’ she whispered. ‘If two days is all you can give me for now, I’ll take it – but don’t think that’s all I want. I know you can’t tell me what you do, and I shall never ask – but remember I’m waiting and you come back to me. Do you hear me, Sebastian? You damned well come back, because I’ll be waiting.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll come back,’ he murmured as he closed the distance between them, drawing her close. ‘Don’t you know what they say about bad pennies – they always turn up…’

  Author’s note

  Hats were never rationed, perhaps because the materials needed were minimal and easy to source in Britain. Milliners continued to fashion and sell beautiful hats throughout the war, cheering up many a dull utility dress.

  About Rosie Clarke

  ROSIE CLARKE is happily married and lives in a quiet village in East Anglia. Writing books is a passion for Rosie, she also likes to read, watch good films and enjoys holidays in the sunshine. She loves shoes and adores animals, especially squirrels and dogs.

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  Addictive Fiction

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Rosie Clarke, 2016

  The moral right of Rosie Clarke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

 
; All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN (E) 9781784977146

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