They’d both been out of hospital just over a week and were taking things slowly. Rose had two broken fingers from when Max had stamped on her hand. They were splinted together and wrapped in a white bandage. She had sustained a cut to her right temple which had been stitched. The stitches were due to come out in a few days but Rose feared she’d be left with a permanent mark. Dan had not fared much better. He’d swallowed so much water he’d almost drowned and he now had a scar on his cheek, but Rose thought it just made him look more rugged.
“What’s going to happen to the amusement arcade?” asked Rose.
“It’s going up for sale,” said Dan. “The estate agents were thrilled to get their hands on it. They think it will fetch quite a good price. But we’re not going to be rich. Most of the money will go on dad’s lawyer’s fees.
“When does his case come up?”
“In a couple of months. He could go to prison.” Dan’s voice cracked when he spoke.
“I’m sorry,” said Rose.
“The lawyer, Baker-Howard, thinks the judge might be lenient if Dad can prove that Max was blackmailing him into delivering the drugs. Max had lent him money to keep the business going and when Dad couldn’t pay it back he forced him to get involved in the drugs smuggling business instead.”
Rose shuddered at the mention of Max. The bodies of the Geordies had washed up the day after the boat capsized, but Max’s whereabouts were a mystery. He had vanished into thin air. Or sunk to the bottom of the sea with any luck, thought Rose. The local papers were full of stories about how he had used the yacht to smuggle drugs into the country from Amsterdam and then laundered the money through the fairground.
“What will you and your mum do?” she asked.
“We’re selling the house. Mum’s decided we’d be better off living somewhere more modest. She’s training to become a massage and beauty therapist at the spa where she used to go herself.” Dan fell silent. He stopped walking and turned to look at Rose. “When are you going back to London?” His voice sounded flat. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” said Rose, grinning. She had been bursting to tell him her news ever since they’d set out, but had wanted to ask him about his dad first. “Whilst we were in hospital, Mum heard that her job had fallen through.”
“Is that good news?” asked Dan, looking confused. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Well,” said Rose. “Mum has decided that we’re going to stay on in Scarborough. We’re going to keep Gran’s house and live there. We can earn a lot of money from renting out the house in London and Mum has already found some work as a legal secretary in a local firm.”
Dan stared at her in disbelief. “That’s fantastic!” He lifted her off the sand and swung her round in the air. Then he put her down gently, holding her close. Their lips met in a kiss as the waves lapped around their feet.
~~~
Mary was scrubbing the kitchen floor when Ellie rushed in, breathless.
“This just came for you,” she said, holding out a rather crumpled letter.
Mary stood up and took the letter from Ellie’s trembling hands.
“It has a foreign stamp on it,” said Ellie. “Look.” She pointed at the unfamiliar stamp in the corner. The letter was addressed to Mary Brewer, care of Mrs Goodley at the Grand Hotel, Scarborough. Mary recognised the handwriting immediately. A momentary faintness came over her and she reached for the nearest chair and sank onto it. Then she tore the letter open, pulled out the piece of paper that was inside and started to read.
Amsterdam,
10th September, 1899
Dearest Mary,
I hope this letter reaches you. I am sending it to Mrs Goodley at the Grand Hotel in the hope that she will know where to find you. I want you to know that I am safe and well in Amsterdam, being looked after by Jackson and Kitty. They were married a few days ago and are both very happy.
How I came to be here is a long story, and one that I will tell you in person when I next see you. If George is still waiting for me, please tell him that I will be travelling back to England shortly and that if he still wishes to marry me then I still wish to marry him.
Mary, you have been a good friend to me, the best I’ve ever had. I enjoyed our trip to Scarborough more than anything, even though it ended so badly. But I do not want to dwell on past misfortunes. I believe that we make our own luck in this world and from now on I intend to do just that.
I hope to see you again soon. Until then, be happy in all that you do and I wish you all the very best for the future.
Your loving friend,
Alice.
***
SCARBOROUGH FAIR 2: SCARBOROUGH BALL
If you enjoyed Scarborough Fair then you’ll love book two in the series, Scarborough Ball.
Rose and Dan find themselves in yet another life threatening situation. And Rose’s great-grandmother, Lilian, has a secret she’s kept hidden for over sixty years.
Read on for an exclusive excerpt.
PROLOGUE
June 1986, Sea View Nursing Home
The dead are calling me to account.
Three days ago I received a letter.
“You’ve got a letter from America, Lilian,” said Sue in her sing-song voice when she brought me my morning cup of tea. I waited for her to leave the room before opening it, eyeing the unfamiliar postage stamp with suspicion. Already I feared the envelope’s contents.
I slit the envelope carefully with a paper knife and pulled out a folded piece of paper with an old photograph tucked inside. The photograph was black and white and creased with age. I recognised it instantly and my heart contracted. I put it to one side with a trembling hand and turned to the letter.
It was a brief note, from an address in California, informing me that my friend, Ruby, had passed away peacefully in an old people’s home. I expect it will be my turn soon. The writer was Ruby’s daughter, Cynthia. Ruby was eighty-two when she died. Mom wished to be remembered to you, wrote Cynthia. She had a good life in America but she always looked back on her time in Scarborough with fond memories.
I paused when I read the bit about the fond memories and wondered what Ruby had told her daughter. Then a lump formed in my throat and the tears started to fall.
I hadn’t heard from Ruby in decades and had no idea she still knew where I was. I picked up the photograph again and peered at the image: the two of us arm-in-arm, dressed up for a New Year’s Eve ball in the Grand Hotel in 1923, and the events of over sixty years ago came flooding back to me. Had Ruby specifically asked Cynthia to send this particular photo? Or had Cynthia picked it out from her mother’s belongings by chance? That seemed to me unlikely. I had the distinct impression that Ruby was sending me a message from beyond the grave.
I had thought the past was long buried, washed out to sea by the passage of years, not to mention a second world war, but since receiving this letter the events of 1923 have haunted every waking moment and I haven’t been able to sleep properly. What this photograph says to me is that Ruby hadn’t forgotten the past either and she was telling me it was time to remember.
So I gave Sue some money and asked her to pop into town and buy me a large notebook and some pens.
“Are you going to write your memoirs?” she asked me.
“Something like that,” I said.
I will write down the story of what happened to me and Ruby in the hope of finding some peace before I, too, go to meet my maker. I shall leave the story to my daughter, Janice, in my will and let her decide what to do with it. I have been wondering where to start the story but I think I shall start in December 1923 on the day that Theodore Franklin first came to the Futurist cinema and invited everyone to the ball at the Grand Hotel.
THANK YOU FOR READING
I hope you enjoyed this book. If you did, then I would be very grateful if you would please take a moment to leave a review at the retailer where you bought it, or on Goodreads. Thank you.
&nbs
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OTHER BOOKS BY MARGARITA
Scarborough Ball
A party should be fun. Not a matter of life and death.
1923. A shocking event happens at the New Year’s Eve Ball.
2016. Rose and Dan are still not safe. Someone wants revenge.
Oranges for Christmas
Berlin 1961. The War is over.
But for Sabine the fight for freedom has only just begun.
The Sleeping Angel
Something is astir in Highgate Cemetery.
The dead want justice and so do the living.
FIND MARGARITA ONLINE
Website:
http://margaritamorris.com
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https://www.facebook.com/margaritamorrisauthor
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https://twitter.com/MargaritaMorris
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Margarita Morris was born in Harrogate, North Yorkshire. She studied Modern Languages at Jesus College, Oxford and worked in computing for eleven years. She lives in Oxfordshire with her husband and two sons.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My heartfelt thanks to my proofreader Josie who helped weed out the typos. And special thanks, as always, to Steve for his critical input and unwavering support.
Scarborough Fair (Scarborough Fair series Book 1) Page 25