Beyond a Misty Shore

by Lyn Andrews

  lyn andrews

  Beyond A Misty Shore

  Copyright © 2011 Lyn Andrews

  The right of Lyn Andrews to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2011

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN : 978 0 7553 7191 4

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Contents

  About the Book

  Author the Author

  Also By Lyn Andrews

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Epilogue

  About the Book

  It is 1945 and the war is finally over. For sisters Sophie and Maria, though, the upheaval is just beginning. For they have no choice but to leave their beloved home on the Isle of Man.

  Moving to the mainland is a huge wrench for eighteen-year-old Maria. She can’t forget Hans Bonhoeffer, a young Austrian farmer who was interned on the island during the war.

  For widowed Sophie, Liverpool offers a new beginning with her young daughter Bella; she’s determined to make a success of it. She has no room for distractions - until she meets Frank Ryan. But falling in love with Frank is a disaster, for he is married to a woman who, although she doesn’t love him, has no intention of letting him go. So when an unexpected business opportunity arises for Sophie it seems like the answer to her prayers. Seizing the chance, she decides to start afresh and try to forget Frank.

  Maria, though, has never given up hope of a future with Hans. When he does return he finds himself in grave danger and Maria has no option but to be parted from him again. Without the men they love, will the sisters ever find happiness?

  About the Author

  Lyn Andrews is one of the UK’s top one hundred bestselling authors, reaching No. 1 on the Sunday Times paperback bestseller list. Born and brought up in Liverpool, she is the daughter of a policeman and also married a policeman. After becoming the mother of triplets, she took some time off from her writing whilst she raised her children. Shortlisted for the RNA Romantic Novel of the Year Award in 1993, she has now written thirty hugely successful novels. Lyn Andrews now lives on the Isle of Man.

  By Lyn Andrews

  Maggie May

  The Leaving Of Liverpool

  Liverpool Lou

  The Sisters O’Donnell

  The White Empress

  Ellan Vannin

  Mist Over The Mersey

  Mersey Blues

  Liverpool Songbird

  Liverpool Lamplight

  Where The Mersey Flows

  From This Day Forth

  When Tomorrow Dawns

  Angels Of Mercy

  The Ties That Bind

  Take These Broken Wings

  My Sister’s Child

  The House On Lonely Street

  Love And A Promise

  A Wing And A Prayer

  When Daylight Comes

  Across A Summer Sea

  A Mother’s Love

  Friends Forever

  Every Mother’s Son

  Far From Home

  Days Of Hope

  A Daughter’s Journey

  A Secret In The Family

  To Love And To Cherish

  Beyond A Misty Shore

  Dedication

  For my treasured and only granddaughter Jemima Lyn Andrade – meu pequeno anjo – who is beautiful and a little poppet, although at times she can be like the ‘litle girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead’ in the nursery rhyme! I have based Maria in the novel on you, Jemima – Maria’s looks are typically Manx; you have inherited yours from Angela your Portuguese grandma – but I hope when you grow up you will have as happy, fulfilled and successful a life as Maria does – although probably by that time your Nanna Lyn will have ‘shuffled off this mortal coil’.

  Lyn Andrews

  Isle of Man, 2011

  Prologue

  Peel, Isle of Man, May 1945

  ‘IT’S OVER, LUV, IT’S finally over.’ Sarah Kinnin’s voice was low and hoarse with the emotions she was trying hard to control. Dressed for work in a dark grey skirt covered by a coarse but serviceable calico apron, a paisley print blouse and with her greying hair taken back into a neat bun, she had come straight from home to find her elder daughter. The auctioning of the day’s catch was due to begin in an hour and she, as auctioneer, would have to discuss prices with the fishermen and then mark everything down in her book before she started the auction, but she had an idea that they would be very late in beginning today. She had known where Sophie would be, where she always came in the morning after she had seen her five-year-old daughter Bella into school. She would be down by the little harbour sheltered from the prevailing winds and weather by the grassy bulk of St Patrick’s Isle.

  Sophie never lingered at the school gate gossiping with the other young mothers, preferring to spend some time alone with her thoughts and memories. Bella always went off happily with her friends; she enjoyed school. But Sarah wondered if the children would all soon be sent home. They would be bursting with excitement at the news that was spreading like wildfire across the island – relayed by those who were fortunate enough to have a wireless set – and was now being heralded also by the church bells. Bells that had been silent for six long years. The war in Europe was finally and officially over. Germany had surrendered.

  Sarah reached out and put her arms around the girl’s shoulders and felt them shaking. ‘Hush, luv. Hush now,’ she soothed, but her own eyes were bright with unshed tears.

  Sophie turned towards her and Sarah felt a stab of anguish as she looked into the brown eyes, which were full of pain and brimming with tears. Both her girls were attractive with dark eyes fringed with sooty lashes and the thick dark brown hair that denoted their Manx heritage, but at only twenty-four Sophie was a widow.

  ‘Oh, Mam! Is it true?’ Soph
ie asked, a sob in her voice.

  Sarah managed a sad smile. ‘That’s why the bells are ringing, luv. Mr Churchill announced it on the wireless this hour past.’

  Sophie nodded slowly, but then began to shake her head. ‘Was it worth it, Mam? Was it all really worth it? Poor Pa lost off North Africa and . . . and my Andrew and . . . and all the other lads who left the island to fight . . . and my poor Bella left . . .’ She couldn’t go on.

  Sarah gathered her daughter into her arms. ‘I’ve been asking myself that same thing, luv, and the answer has to be “yes, it was”. That evil man and his armies had to be stopped. There was nothing else we could do except fight for our freedom and our way of life.’ She stared across the calm waters of Peel’s harbour shimmering in the May sunlight, where the moored fishing boats bobbed gently up and down on the incoming tide. Both her husband and Andrew Teare, Sophie’s husband, had been fishermen. John Kinnin had drowned when the Tynwald had been sunk and Andrew’s boat had been dragged by its nets to the bottom of the Irish Sea by a U-boat three years ago. The entire crew had perished. Both she and Sophie had suffered devastating blows but at least she and John had had far longer together than Andrew and Sophie, she thought sadly.

  As she tried to soothe her distraught daughter her gaze wandered across to the wide swathe of strand where the waves broke gently against the shore. Every beach, inlet and cliff top was festooned with barbed wire. Their little island was surrounded by a ring of cruel iron. All along the pretty leafy lanes that meandered through the glens and hills and villages signposts and names had been removed. Ugly concrete pillboxes had been built to house the guns that would have helped protect them from invasion, but despoiled the majestic coastline. Yet the blight of the paraphernalia of war was a small price to pay; they had not suffered the fate of the people of the Channel Islands, thank God.

  Sophie was trying hard to control the emotions that were sweeping over her as she clung to her mother, knowing that she too had suffered the terrible grief of losing her husband and knowing too, deep in her heart, that Sarah was right. The evil that had swept across Europe had had to be stopped no matter what the cost and today neither she nor her mother would be alone in their grief.

  ‘Come on, Sophie, luv. Pull yourself together. We’ve got to try to put it all behind us and think of the future, not the past. You have to think of Bella now,’ Sarah urged.

  Sophie dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. She had to make an effort for her daughter. It would upset and confuse the child to see her like this. ‘I know, Mam.’ She looked around. ‘I suppose they’ll send them all home from school now.’

  Sarah smiled. ‘I expect they will give them the rest of the day off. They’ll be too excited to concentrate on lessons. People are already talking about organising parties to celebrate.’

  Sophie squared her slim shoulders and tucked her arm through Sarah’s. ‘You’re right, Mam – whatever we are feeling, we can’t spoil today for Bella.’

  Sarah nodded her agreement. ‘Maybe Maria will bake one of her special cakes for us when she gets home. I’m sure I’ve got enough ingredients.’

  A look of concern crossed Sophie’s face as she wondered how her younger sister would take the news. Maria was a Land Girl and worked on the Sayles’ farm, a seven-day-a-week job. She would have heard of the end of hostilities by now too for the Sayles had a wireless, and of course she would have heard the bells. She also knew of her sister’s growing affection for Hans Bonhoeffer, a young Austrian internee from the Peveril Camp, who also worked for the Sayles. ‘Mam, what will happen now to all the people in the camps?’ she asked tentatively as they made their way up the narrow cobbled street lined with fishermen’s cottages.

  Sarah frowned. ‘I don’t know, luv. I suppose they’ll be sent back to wherever it is they came from in the first place. It’s all over now so they’re no longer a threat, although from what we’ve seen and heard most of them weren’t much of a threat to begin with. Except of course the few real prisoners of war and I expect even they will be glad to go home to their families.’

  Sophie nodded; it made sense. This tiny island couldn’t support the numbers of internees indefinitely. There was very little work for the Manx people themselves and she began to wonder what both she and her sister would do now, for obviously the Women’s Land Army would be disbanded. She hadn’t officially been a part of it but she had helped out at Sayles’ whenever she could, and she had done other jobs too to support both herself and Bella. Sarah couldn’t keep them all; with Pa dead she only had the small income from her work as an auctioneer, selling off the catches the fishing fleet brought back. Sophie sighed inwardly. There really didn’t seem to be very much to celebrate at all today but she had to keep her spirits up for Bella’s sake.

  Maria had twisted her thick dark curly hair up into a knot beneath the turban she wore. The sun was now high in the sky and although it was only May the weather for the past two weeks had been very warm, and swinging the scythe as she helped cut the meadow grass for hay was hard work. Beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead and she grimaced. She must look very unappealing and unattractive, she thought, glancing across to where the tall, lithe figure of Hans worked seemingly effortlessly. He grinned at her and she smiled back, her heart skipping a beat as it always did. He was so handsome: his blond hair lightened by the sun; his skin tanned by working outdoors in all weathers; his eyes as deep a blue as the sea. She had liked him from the first moment she’d met him, the day he’d come with two other young men from the camp to work on the farm some miles inland from Peel. He’d been a little shy with her at first but she’d put that down to the fact that he felt very unsure of his position.

  As the days had turned to weeks she’d got to know him better and he had relaxed more in her company; eventually they’d become friends. That friendship had blossomed into affection and now she was certain that she had fallen in love with him. She blushed slightly as she remembered the day a week ago when they’d found themselves alone in the barn. He’d taken her in his arms and kissed her and told her he had never felt so deeply about anyone before.

  ‘I know now what is in my heart. I love you, my Maria. I will love you for ever.’

  She had clung tightly to him and had murmured ‘I love you too, Hans, and we’ll find a way to be together when . . . when all this is over.’

  Now he called across to her: ‘Don’t worry, Maria, soon it will be time for us to eat and then you can rest.’ He knew working on the land was hard for a girl and especially for one as slim as her.

  ‘Thank goodness, my arms and shoulders feel as if they’re on fire and I must look such a fright,’ she called back, looking forward to sitting close to him under the shade of one of the trees that bounded the field as they ate whatever Maude Sayle would provide for lunch. They always chose to sit apart from the other workers because he had to return to the camp each night which meant they could only see each other during working hours. Their breaks were the only real time they had alone, apart from the odd snatched moments in a barn or the shippen.

  ‘You never look “a fright”, as you say it. To me you are always beautiful, Maria.’

  She was about to ask him laughingly how anyone could look ‘beautiful’ in the uniform of the Land Army – boots, overalls and turban – when she caught sight of the small, stout figure of Maude Sayle hurrying across the field towards them, waving her arms wildly in the air. ‘What on earth is wrong with her? It’s not dinnertime yet and why is she running?’

  Hans looked concerned. ‘Perhaps something is wrong for Mr Sayle.’

  They both dropped their scythes and started to run towards the farmer’s wife but then Maria stopped dead and looked around in alarm. ‘Oh, my God! Hans! Hans, listen! Bells! Church bells!’

  Instantly he was by her side, his arm protectively around her. ‘What is it? What is it that is happening?’

  She clutched his arm tightly, upset and confused. ‘I don’t know. They are only supposed t
o ring the bells to warn us that . . . but it can’t be, not now! The war is nearly over, Hans, we can’t be being invaded!’

  Maude had reached the little cluster of workers but was fighting for her breath.

  ‘Mrs Sayle, what’s wrong? Is it the invasion?’ Maria cried, still clinging to Hans.

  ‘No! No . . . it’s . . . it’s over! Let me get my breath, girl,’ Maude puffed, holding her side, her round face flushed. ‘We’ve just heard it on the wireless and I ran to tell you all. It’s over! The war is over in Europe – they’ve surrendered!’

  Maria threw her arms around Hans’s neck and began to laugh with pure relief. For a few horrible moments she had thought the invasion that had threatened them for six years had come.

  Hans hugged her and felt a wave of relief surge through him. Now they no longer had anything to fear from Herr Hitler and his murdering hordes.

  Maude beamed at them all. ‘Come on back to the house with me, all of you. This calls for a drink to celebrate, even though it’s a working day.’

  With his arm still around Maria Hans led the little group across the field toward the farmhouse as Maude brought up the rear, still puffing a little from her unaccustomed exertions.

  Edward Sayle was waiting in the kitchen, his weather-beaten face wreathed for once in smiles, a bottle of whisky and another of sherry already on the table.

  ‘Come on in, all of you! Isn’t it the best news of all? It’s finally over, we’ve nothing more to worry about,’ he cried, pouring generous measures for everyone.

  He raised his glass. ‘A toast! To peace and to freedom!’

  The unaccustomed spirits burned the back of Hans’s throat and he spluttered. Maria laughed and banged him on the back, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

  Maude smiled at them. They made a handsome couple, she thought. He was a decent lad who worked hard and she’d known Maria all her life; Sarah had been a childhood friend. She’d watched their growing closeness and had wondered if it would last but now a thought suddenly struck her. What implications did this news have for them? In time he and his family would be sent back to Austria from where they’d fled the Nazi advance; would the girl go with him? She doubted it for Maria Kinnin, like so many other people she knew, had never been off the island in her entire life. Her mother Sarah probably wouldn’t allow her to go. Perhaps being parted would be for the best anyway, she mused, sipping her sherry slowly, but it was not really her concern. Let them have these few hours of happiness for who knew what the future held for them – for any of them.