Maggie's Girl

by Sally Wragg

  Klaus had found use for his engineering skills at the Rolls Royce factory in Derby, while Herta was still working here for Andrew, and was moving with him to look after Mrs Bradshaw after the wedding.

  There was plenty for her to do at the big house – she could still take charge of Andrew, carry on treating him like the son she’d lost at the start of this terrible war.

  At last Andrew appeared, pale shreds of tissue sticking to his chin where he’d cut himself shaving, followed closely by his best man, whom he’d known since medical school. Neville Sayers had operated on Maggie’s stepfather when he’d been injured in a mining accident.

  Herta straightened his tie, fussing with the carnation picked from the garden, her eyes crinkling in amusement.

  ‘Is wedding you go to, not funeral. You marry a beautiful woman! Cheer up!’

  As if she needed to remind him, for if Herta had ever seen a man in love …

  Andrew’s eyes softened instantly.

  ‘She’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’m the luckiest of men.’

  ‘And the most besotted,’ Neville growled, walking past. ‘I’ll go and have a word with the driver.’

  ‘It’s too late for her to back out now,’ Andrew asserted, as if there were any doubt of it.

  ‘As if she would. She’s a lucky woman!’ she teased, patting his face, and he caught her hand.

  ‘A bad case of nerves, I expect! Confronted with one of my patients in this state, that’s exactly what I’d tell him.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Andrew sighed.

  ‘I was rather hoping we’d be working together after we were married, at the hospital or here in Castle Maine.’ It had been a dream of his – of Maggie’s, too, he’d thought – helping the poorer folk of Castle Maine. But then they’d heard about Silas Bradshaw’s will …

  ‘I don’t want to lose her, Herta!’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Herta had no doubts whatsoever, ‘Maggie is a strong woman, Andrew, I can tell. Whatever happens, you’ll cope.’

  Why was she so sure?

  ‘You love her?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course!’ Andrew smiled. ‘She’s turned my life inside out, and I wouldn’t change a bit of it.’

  Herta pushed him towards the door.

  ‘Go and marry her, then,’ she said.

  *

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ Alec Browning laughed at the expression on Holly’s face and flung his arms wide, encompassing the summer flowers in the garden and the views over Castle Maine. The simple things he’d taken for granted seemed so wonderful since he’d been demobbed.

  ‘And as for you, young lady—’ He turned towards her, suddenly serious. He hadn’t the words to describe Holly.

  She smiled, slipping her arm into his, walking with him in a companionable silence towards Adèle’s ornamental pond. They were both relieved to be out of the house where Gran was in a flap, Adèle countermanding her every order, and as for Mam – she was going about in a daze. The place was like a tinder-box waiting to go up.

  ‘You’re looking lovely,’ Alec said.

  ‘And so I should for my own mother’s wedding.’ She fingered the organza of her bridesmaid’s dress with a sense of wonder. Clothing coupons didn’t go far. If it hadn’t been for one of Daisy’s clients with contacts in the States, and a length of blue organza left over from her own daughter’s wedding – well, Gran had sat until all hours sewing Mam’s dress and her own.

  ‘I’m pleased my mother’s seen sense at last. Andrew’s been on at her to marry him long enough.’

  ‘She’d be waiting for the end of the war. I know I couldn’t wait for it to finish!’ Alec twined his fingers in hers. ‘When I think how we felt when we first joined up—’

  ‘I can’t believe we were so foolish!’ Holly grinned.

  ‘We were young.’ Alec felt the need to stick up for their younger selves.

  ‘Bone-headed, more like! At least we’ve more sense now. No wonder VE Day was so wild.’

  She’d met Alec in London that day, and they’d gone to a party. It had spilled out into the streets, carrying them with a flood of folk into Trafalgar Square.

  They’d become trapped, unable to move a finger for all those thousands of folk, delirious with joy without the words to express it. A life sentence, then instant freedom – she’d never forget it!

  Holly’s eyes widened in memory, and with a maturity beyond her years. The war had made her grow up faster than she ought, robbing her of something precious in the process. Robbing them both. Their lives had depended on their growing up fast.

  ‘What will you do now, Alec?’

  ‘Now I’ve got my life back?’ He paused, then took himself by surprise. ‘I’m going into Dad’s business. After all those arguments I had with him about it – don’t I know better now!’ His eyes grew serious.

  ‘All I want is peace and a chance to build something solid, a future I can depend on – that we can depend on …’ His eyes blazed with an intensity she couldn’t fail to see.

  ‘You know how I feel about you?’ He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  ‘Of course I know. It’s how I feel about you, too!’

  ‘Marry me!’

  She stood against his chest, feeling his heartbeat in time with her own, momentarily tempted, but very clear what she wanted.

  Of course she’d thought about marrying Alec – some time in the future.

  She drew away, seeking the words.

  ‘Holly, you do love me, don’t you?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It’s just – oh, Alec, I’m not sure love’s enough any more!’

  She turned away, unable to bear the expression on his face, and walked to the pond, watching the fish skim the surface of the water between the lilies.

  ‘The war has changed everything.’ She looked up to the blue skies as if for inspiration. ‘It’s changed me. At one time I couldn’t wait to get home – I wanted exactly what you want now. Peace, quiet, security.’

  ‘But now?’ There was a lump in his throat making it impossible to swallow.

  ‘I’ve come to a different way of thinking.’ She stared at the water. There was a splash as a fish jumped for a mayfly.

  ‘Life’s for living. I won’t miss a single minute of it. I can’t tie myself down, Alec, not yet.’

  ‘But I’d never tie you down!’

  ‘You would. How could you help it?’

  ‘I don’t understand!’

  ‘I want to take up that place at Oxford.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ His voice was harsh.

  ‘To get a degree, of course!’

  How ironic! This was what Mam had always wanted for her, and Holly was doing it of her own volition.

  ‘After that, I don’t know. But whatever comes, I mean to make the most of it!’

  ‘And us?’ he asked brokenly.

  ‘I don’t think there ever was an us,’ she admitted quietly. ‘Just a girl and boy too young to be caught up in such a terrible war, clinging to each other because they had to cling to something.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re saying!’

  ‘But I do, Alec. If we do this now, we’ll be heading for trouble. I just know it.’

  He looked deep into her eyes, seeing what she’d buried there and should have told him long since.

  Then he admitted defeat, stepping away. Without hesitation, he went back up the path towards the house.

  ‘What’s up with our Holly and her young man?’

  Peter was standing with Adèle and Daisy at the top of the steps, watching Alec help Holly into the car, folding her dress on to her knees. His face was pinched.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Despite the rush that morning, Daisy still had time to notice the pair had been quiet since they’d returned from their walk. She wasn’t surprised they’d had an argument. Holly had been in a mighty strange mood since she’d come home.

  ‘She’s grown up,’ Adèle mur
mured, giving Daisy’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

  ‘Too grown-up for her own good!’ Daisy sniffed. ‘I expect we’ll find out what it is soon enough. It isn’t like our Holly to keep things to herself.’

  She’d no need to wonder what side of the family Holly’s impetuosity came from. Silas Bradshaw had never been one to sleep on a thing.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Alec bounded up the steps towards them, doing his best to put a brave face on things.

  Peter lingered, enjoying the late spring sun, while Alec armed the women down the steps into the car. Behind the runabout, the Daimler waited, festooned with ribbons, ready to take Maggie to church.

  Peter entered the hall just as Maggie walked calmly down the broad staircase. He looked up, his breath catching in his throat. She was beautiful!

  She wore a gold, ankle-length suit, quite fitted, with a smart little hat to match. She carried white roses in salute to Hughie, on her mind so much – a good sign, she thought, for herself and Andrew.

  ‘We’ve been here before, Dad.’ She reached the last step, and laughed through her tears.

  ‘You’ll have us both at it,’ he warned, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief.

  ‘It’s not quite the same, any road up,’ he murmured. The lump in his throat was threatening to choke him. ‘A lot’s changed over these years. You and the Bradshaws – the factory – this.’ His airy wave took in the beautiful old house, the gardens, everything he saw that had elevated his Maggie somewhere far beyond him.

  He blew his nose. Maggie was so beautiful; he had to accept that his daughter was a Bradshaw now.

  ‘Last time, I was your real dad!’ he blurted out. It had been on his mind all morning. When else was he going to get the chance to tell her so?

  Maggie’s flowers began to tremble.

  ‘But you are my real father!’ she cried softly. ‘Who else should I call Dad? I know the truth, but nothing’s changed! You’ll always be Dad.’

  She sounded so fierce! Hope sprang into his heart as she reached up and kissed him.

  Maggie braced herself.

  ‘Come on, Dad. We’ve a date to keep.’

  Andrew would be in church by now, and she hadn’t the heart to leave him kicking his heels a moment longer than necessary.

  This was going to be a wonderful day, and she meant to enjoy every single moment of it.

  *

  ‘Silas would have been so proud of her,’ Adèle murmured, gazing around her drawing-room, full of the happy chatter of guests relaxing after a delightful service.

  Silas would have loved to host such a wonderful occasion. The champagne was flowing – even Adèle was on her second glass.

  ‘They make a lovely couple,’ Mary Bertram agreed, hugging John’s arm, her eyes shining with love. They were behaving more like a courting couple than one so long wed.

  Mary couldn’t believe her good fortune, or that catastrophe had been miraculously transformed to deep content.

  ‘My sister looks stunning,’ she teased.

  ‘She does.’ He waited for indignation to rise in Mary. ‘But not as stunning as her little sister.’

  ‘Our Billy’s such a whiz with his hands. He’d have made a wonderful engineer.’ Daisy’s voice, full of maternal affection, floated towards them.

  Adèle looked across. She’d cornered Bertie Bertram, though John’s dad didn’t appear overly put out at this turn of events.

  His wife, Connie, was conducting an animated conversation with Peter about their respective plans for the summer bedding plants. Peter often came up to the big house now to give Stokes a hand in the garden, and Adèle blessed him for it.

  ‘Told you no one would notice!’ Harry Bates grinned, sidling round to the drinks table, Clifford in tow, his hand reaching towards a tray of glasses brimming with champagne.

  ‘I’ve noticed, Master Harry!’ Stamps, holding the tray, stared at him frostily, and Harry’s hand fell away at once.

  Stamps hid a satisfied smile – though the boy was right enough, no one would have noticed. Folk were too busy enjoying themselves, Bradshaws and Bridges together, for the world as if they were one large and happy family.

  If Stamps hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes, he’d never have credited it.

  The Bertram and Bates lads were still hanging round. Stamps’s thin lips twitched. A single glass of champagne couldn’t do a deal of harm.

  ‘Oh, go on.’ He stood between the boys and their parents, and encouraged each to lift a glass from his tray. And a good job no one was looking; it was enough to lose him his job.

  ‘Gosh, thanks, Stamps!’ The two boys moved away, eyes on the glasses, careful not to spill a drop, and grinning widely.

  Maggie Hardaker, who’d seen it all, chuckled. Who would have believed Stamps had a human side? Wait until she told Andrew.

  She looked up fondly at her husband of two hours, at that moment chatting amiably to Billy about the honeymoon, excited about the trip to Scotland he’d spent happy hours organising. Maggie had only just found out about it.

  Unnoticed, she left his side and glided through the wedding guests, slipping out into the cool hall.

  Then she stopped short.

  What a thing to remember today! The day when she was the nursery maid, and Silas had crashed into her. The tray loaded with crockery she’d been carrying went flying. That great bear of a man had gone down on his hands and knees and helped her gather the shattered pieces. Had he felt something between them, even then?

  She was being over-fanciful. It was the day and the excitement …

  She stopped on the steps, eyes shielded against the sun, her breath catching in delight. Silas had always said this was the finest view in Castle Maine – wasn’t that the reason he’d built his house here in the first place?

  The rolling valleys and meadows studded with buttercups and daisies, the sun sparkling on the water and the roofs of the houses, even the rows of cottages where she’d grown up next to the pit heads – and drawing her gaze, the massive factory, beside the river on which it depended.

  ‘There you are.’ A pair of firm hands folded around her waist, and she leaned back.

  ‘Only hours married, and already she’s trying to get away from me!’ Andrew grinned, stooping to kiss the top of her head, and she reached for his hand, her gaze wandering back to the factory.

  ‘I’ll never get away from this place, Andrew.’

  Wherever she’d gone, whatever else had happened, the factory had always been there, waiting for her.

  It was as if there was an unbreakable thread between them.

  ‘I can’t believe what’s happened these last few months,’ she said. ‘It feels like a dream.’

  ‘It’s no dream, my darling.’

  ‘I wish it was! I wish Silas was still here—’

  ‘It’s happened. You have to cope.’ His eyes softened, his grip on her hand tightened. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been as supportive as I might.’

  He’d been meaning to say that for a long while. What did it matter whether she worked alongside him or not, so long as she was happy?

  ‘I’m here, that’s all I wanted to say,’ he added.

  ‘Whatever kind of mess I make, you mean!’ She grinned amiably.

  ‘I have every faith in you, and so has everyone else! Your grandfather, for one …’

  Her grandfather. Silas Bradshaw. Silas’s factory, his town, his plans for the future he was no longer here to see. She’d taken over his empire. How could she possibly live up to it – or to him? So many people’s livelihoods depended on her.

  Silas had always been a good employer, a man who stuck up for the rights of his workers, who provided them with an environment in which they were able to flourish. He’d been no fool, either; a happy workforce was a productive one.

  How well she’d grown to know him. A chip off the old block, he’d called her once.

  Down in the valley below, the sun glinted on the red brick of the factory. Ugly, some c
alled it, but it seemed curiously beautiful to Maggie now, the slatted light striking fire from the windows.

  The hooter had sounded not half an hour since, signalling the start of the second shift. The girls would be hard at work, looking forward to getting through it, just as she had, once upon a time.

  The war had forged a new world, changing so much for the better. She couldn’t let them down – she couldn’t let Silas down!

  She heaved a huge sigh of relief, as if her heart had opened at last. Sunlight burst in, bringing with it her painful past, her glorious present and her every hope for the future.

  There was so much to do, so much to think about!

  And first, there was the little matter of her honeymoon. She turned to Andrew, whose lips met hers, and her heart thrilled to the future.

  By the Same Author

  Daisy’s Girl

  Copyright

  © Sally Wragg 2009

  First published in Great Britain 2009

  This edition 2011

  ISBN 978 0 7090 9404 3 (ebook)

  ISBN 978 0 7090 9405 0 (mobi)

  ISBN 978 0 7090 9406 7 (pdf)

  ISBN 978 0 7090 8949 0 (print)

  Robert Hale Limited

  Clerkenwell House

  Clerkenwell Green

  London EC1R 0HT

  www.halebooks.com

  The right of Sally Wragg to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988