Lonely Teardrops (2008)

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Lonely Teardrops (2008) Page 40

by Lightfoot, Freda


  Harriet instantly snatched up her child and held her safe, sobbing with relief. She was indeed a miracle child, a gift from God.

  Steve wrapped his arms about them both and held them close. ‘You’re safe now, Harriet. No one will ever hurt either of you again, not without going through me first.’

  The hair salon was also to be spared from demolition and Harriet thought she might take the shop over herself. She’d learnt quite a bit already by helping Joyce, and could take a course in hair styling to learn the rest. She and Steve would live in the flat above, once they were married, and Rose could continue to live in Stan’s old room at the back.

  It felt like a new beginning, fresh hope for the future.

  Rose came home from hospital the next day, having been kept in overnight for observation, with her arm and shoulder in a sling. She’d broken it in two places in her ineffectual and bravado attempt to stop the bulldozer.

  ‘At least this little babby is alive and well,’ she said, giving her granddaughter and great granddaughter a one-armed cuddle. Nowt else matters. And it could have been worse. Tough as old boots, that’s me. I’ll not be much good at knitting for a while, but then I never were.’

  They all laughed. There was no dampening the spirit of this old woman.

  Grant was now residing in Her Majesty’s prison. It seemed that while the argument over the adoption had raged in the priest’s office, he’d simply picked up the baby and walked off. Not, apparently, with any firm idea in his head about what he intended to do with it. As he confessed to Constable Nuttall on their way to the station in the police car, hands securely handcuffed, he simply wanted ‘to get his own back on Harriet’. A disturbingly familiar motive.

  He’d apparently expected the driver of the bulldozer to see the baby in good time, and stop. ‘I only wanted to frighten her, to make her suffer as she has made me suffer by always being the favourite both with Stan and my grandmother, and for being the only one who’ll benefit from Nan’s will. I hate her, and her stupid child.’

  ‘Well, let’s see if you like the men you’ll be sharing a cell with in prison any better,’ Constable Nuttall had drily remarked.

  Joyce was given a proper and dignified funeral, as she would have expected. Father Dimmock gave the eulogy and spoke movingly of her complete selflessness which she’d amply demonstrated in her last moments. Harriet and Rose didn’t trust themselves to even glance at each other as he spoke these touching words.

  Later, at the wake, which Irma organised for them at the salon, Harriet took the opportunity for a private word with Father Dimmock. He accepted that whether or not Joyce had forged the papers, Harriet, as the baby’s mother, had the right to refuse permission. The adoption would not now go ahead.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Harriet asked the old priest, with a twinkle in her eye, ‘you’d be willing to marry us now that Steve has qualified.’

  Father Dimmock smiled kindly at her. ‘I’d be proud to. Delighted, in fact.’

  Steve whooped his delight. ‘If that’s a proposal, I accept,’ and laughing, he hugged and kissed Harriet right there in front of the priest.

  Later, when everyone had gone home, and Harriet was alone with Rose in the flat above the salon, she again asked the question that had been haunting her for months.

  ‘So tell me what happened to my mother.’

  ‘Eileen was treated for severe burns. It was a miracle, the doctors said, that the fire officers had got her out alive. She would never, however, be the woman she was. All her hair had gone and her once pretty face was a mass of burns, much of the skin having bubbled and melted. Her arms and legs too were badly affected and it would be some weeks before they could even be certain that she would survive. Once they were sure that she was stable, Eileen was sent to one of them specialist hospitals set up to treat pilots shot down in dog fights. A great deal had been learned about the treatment of burns, and in the use of plastic surgery to reconstruct damaged faces, but much of it was still experimental and she faced a long, hard road of pain and suffering.’

  ‘Is she still there, in this place?’

  ‘Aye, love, she is. ‘I pay her regular visits, once or twice every month. She saved my life, and she wasn’t quite the harlot Joyce made out. I want you to know that she’s doing remarkably well, considering what she’s been through. She’s very well cared for. She lives in the wing of a special hospital which houses military personnel and civilians who suffered badly from burns and bomb damage. She was too afraid, too embarrassed by her appearance, d’you see, to go out and about, or to have visitors. In spite of all the operations she’s endured, the plastic surgery, she was nervous of what others, including her young daughter, might think of her.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, she’s longing to see you, thrilled to pieces that you want to see her. I’ve kept her up to date with what you’ve been doing over the years, and she has an album full of photos of you. Your baby pictures and school photos, holiday snaps when we went to Blackpool, that time when you were Harvest Queen, she has them all. And she loves you to bits, believe me.’

  Harriet held her grandmother’s hands tight. ‘Then why should her appearance matter? You don’t mind what she looks like, Nan, so why should I? Take me to see her, please. Tomorrow! It’s time I found out what mother love really is.’

  ***

  Also by Freda Lightfoot as ebooks

  Dancing on Deansgate

  9780957097865

  They called it the Christmas Blitz, but there are no festivities for Jess, locked in the cellar by her feckless, tarty mother. And when Lizzie is imprisoned for shoplifting, Jess is sent to live with her uncle, a bullying black marketeer, who treats her like a slave. Jess’s natural musical talent offers an escape route - and the chance for love. But Uncle Bernie has never forgiven his niece for refusing to join his illegal schemes, and threatens to deprive Jess of her hard-won independence.

  Candy Kisses

  9780956811998

  Secrets darker than chocolate …

  Everyone loves Aunty Dot’s homemade sweets and chocolates. And everyone loves Aunty Dot: the plump, smiling woman has provided a loving home for many a troubled child. Lizzie Pringle would do anything for her foster mother – even taking on local sweet manufacturer and bully, Cedric Finch. Until she falls for his son, Barney…

  Dena can’t believe that Barry Holmes would hurt her beloved daughter: he’s been like a favourite uncle to the little girl. But there’s no smoke without fire. And chocolate can be bitter, as well as sweet …

  Historical sagas

  Lakeland Lily

  The Bobbin Girls

  The Favourite Child

  Kitty Little

  For All Our Tomorrows

  Gracie’s Sin

  Daisy’s Secret

  Ruby McBride

  Dancing on Deansgate

  The Luckpenny Series:

  Luckpenny Land

  Storm Clouds Over Broombank

  Wishing Water

  Larkrigg Fell

  Poorhouse Lane Series

  The Girl from Poorhouse Lane

  The Child from Nowhere

  The Woman from Heartbreak House

  Champion Street Market Series

  Putting On The Style

  Fools Fall In Love

  That'll Be The Day

  Candy Kisses

  Who’s Sorry Now

  Lonely Teardrops

  Historical Romances

  Madeiran Legacy

  Whispering Shadows

  Rhapsody Creek

  Proud Alliance

  Outrageous Fortune

  Contemporary

  Trapped

  Short Stories

  A Sackful of Stories

  Available in print and ebook

  Historical sagas

  House of Angels

  Angels at War

  The Promise

  My Lady Deceiver

  Biographical Historicals

  Hostage Queen

 
Reluctant Queen

  The Queen and the Courtesan

  The Duchess of Drury Lane

  About Freda Lightfoot

  Born in Lancashire, Freda Lightfoot has been a teacher and bookseller. She lived for a number of years in the Lake District and in a mad moment tried her hand at the ‘good life’, kept sheep and hens, various orphaned cats and dogs, built drystone walls, planted a small wood and even learned how to make jam. She has now given up her thermals to build a house in an olive grove in Spain, where she produces her own olive oil and sits in the sun on the rare occasions when she isn’t writing. She’s published 40 novels including many bestselling family sagas and historical novels. To find out more about, visit her website and sign up for her new title alert, or join her on Facebook and Twitter where she loves to chat with readers.

  http://www.fredalightfoot.co.uk/

  http://www.fredalightfoot.blogspot.com/

  Twitter

  Facebook

  Goodreads

  If you find any faults with this ebook please do contact the author so that it can be put right for future readers. mailto:[email protected]

 

 

 


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