by June Francis
He smiled and took a tiny box from his pocket and told her to hold out her left hand. Obediently, she did as she was told and he slipped the ring on her third finger. By some miracle it fitted perfectly, just as Cinderella’s slipper had fitted her tiny foot. They were about to kiss when they heard familiar voices just behind them.
‘Joyce doesn’t know that she’s Lawrence’s daughter and there’s no need to tell her,’ said Edith. ‘I’m not the least bit pleased with her at the moment. In my hour of need, where was she? But you came to my rescue when Mr Armstrong could so easily have killed me.’
‘You mean that?’ asked Winnie, sounding thrilled.
‘Of course, I mean it. I’ve decided I don’t want her muscling in, thinking she has a right to everything. You’re my daughter, too, and from what you’ve said Lawrence’s sister took a liking to you. We don’t have to tell her any lies. When I say you’re my daughter she’ll presume the rest.’
Greta and Alex heard Winnie gasp and both turned and gazed at mother and daughter, just in time to see Winnie fling her arms around her mother. ‘Thanks, Mum!’
‘OK! OK! Don’t get carried away,’ said Edith, patting her shoulder and rolling her eyes at Greta and Alex. ‘We’ve been a burden on those that live in these two houses long enough. It’s time we found another place we can call home.’ She drew her daughter back inside the house, leaving the young lovers to seal their betrothal in the time honoured fashion.
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