by Betty Walker
‘I’ve got no complaints,’ she said hurriedly, worried that Hazel might be in trouble for putting her up.
‘Mrs Baxter is an excellent woman. But there’s no need for you all to be squeezed together like sardines in a can.’ He smiled. ‘Not when we have some perfectly good accommodation available for you right here in Porthcurno.’
Violet stared. ‘What?’ She remembered her manners too late, adding, ‘I mean, what did you say, sir?’
‘It just so happens that one of my officers and his young family have been sent back to London this week, and their quarters have fallen vacant. It’s only a tiny place up the hill in Porthcurno. Little better than a fisherman’s cottage, frankly, and probably quite damp. But you and your family are welcome to make a home of it.’ He cleared his throat, looking at her significantly. ‘Least we can do, with the girls’ father still missing in action. And all that.’
Her eyes widened. So he was serious. Ernst had been a spy, but for England, for their side. And now he was missing, presumed dead.
Or was he?
Perhaps the government knew perfectly well where Ernst was, but he was working for them undercover, maybe part of the resistance on the ground in Germany. To admit that he was still alive could cost lives, including his own. But the colonel seemed intent on making sure Ernst’s children were being taken care of, at least.
‘Thank you,’ she managed to say, though her voice came out as a squeak. ‘But what about Patrick Dullaghan?’
‘Never you mind about that foolish young lad. Private Dullaghan is soon to be shipped off. First thing tomorrow, in fact. Seems they need some extra manpower over in Wiltshire. So I’ve made sure he’ll be among the detail being sent over there.’ He gave her a wink. ‘The boy’s been told to keep his mouth shut about your brother-in-law from now on, and the fear of God put into him if he doesn’t.’
She held both hands to her hot cheeks, shaking with relief. ‘Oh, sir … Colonel … I dunno what to say.’
‘No need to say anything at all, Miss Hopkins.’ He got up and opened the door for her. Outside, she could see Hazel and George waiting for her, their faces worried, and the girls too, huddled together in apprehension. ‘Now, off you go. And once you’ve finished your duties for today, come back and I’ll get one of the orderlies to take you over to your new quarters.’
The girls ran towards Violet as his office door closed. ‘What happened, Aunty Vi? What did the colonel say to you? Will we have to leave Porthcurno?’
She was half-laughing, half-crying, but shook her head at their questions. Over their heads, she met Hazel’s surprised look with a tremulous smile.
‘No, nothing like that. Blimey, the colonel’s such a nice man. He was just saying to me … Oh, girls, girls …’ She clutched them both close to her chest, her heart swollen with emotion. ‘How would you like us to live together in a nice little cottage of our own? And Mum too, when she fetches up from London?’
Both girls started to talk at once, demanding to know what she meant, but she could only weep happily into her hanky.
‘Give us a minute, girls. My head’s in such a tangle, I can’t think straight.’
Waking up this morning, she could have killed herself if it hadn’t been for the girls, she’d been in such flat despair. She’d been so sure the end of the world had come. That she was about to be condemned as a spy. Or sent away from Porthcurno and her new friends, at the very least, which would have been devastating.
Now, everything had changed, and instead the world was just beginning.
But what about Joe Postbridge?
Because of nasty Patrick Dullaghan, Joe probably still suspected she was a spy for the enemy. Worse, that she had told the Germans where to drop their filthy bombs. And she couldn’t even tell Joe the truth. She had signed the Official Secrets Act, and she didn’t think the colonel had been entirely joking when he said she might get her head cut off for blabbing about Ernst, even to her own flesh and blood. Let alone a near-stranger, however she might feel about him in her heart.
But maybe Joe would hear that someone else had been arrested for betraying their location to the enemy, and realise she was innocent.
Even then, she thought sadly, it would probably take time for him to trust her again. And he had his grief to work through too, his mourning for his mother. Because that wouldn’t be easy. She knew how it felt to lose a loved one to a bombing raid. The shock and horror, the raw suddenness of it all. And then you had to get up the next day, and the day after that, and somehow carry on with the business of being alive.
George put a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘I take it the colonel told you about the cottage for you and the girls?’
She nodded. ‘Did you tell him about our situation?’ When he shrugged, looking modest, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Mr Cotterill. For that, and for speaking up for me. You’re a gent. I won’t forget it.’ She smiled mistily at Hazel. ‘I’m proper grateful to you for putting us up, don’t get me wrong. You and Charlie have been the best ever. But it’s time we moved on. Got a place of our own. I hope you’re not offended.’
‘Of course not,’ Hazel said warmly, and gave her a hug. ‘George told me all about it while you were in there. I think it’s smashing news.’ She blushed a little, whispering in her ear, ‘It’s good timing anyway. There’s going to be a happy event later this year, so I’ll need the extra space. And I don’t just mean for the new baby.’
Violet’s jaw dropped. ‘You and Mr Cotterill?’
‘That’s why George was at the cottage last night. He came round to propose.’
‘Oh my Gawd!’ Violet heaved a great sigh, considering this. ‘What did Charlie have to say about that?’
‘He wished us both happy.’ Hazel nodded at Violet’s surprised stare. ‘I know, you could have knocked me down with a feather. All the same, we’re going to wait a while before tying the knot. Charlie and his dad didn’t always see eye to eye; it’s true. They had their arguments, and Bertie raised a hand to him more than once. But when all’s said and done, Bertie was still his father, and Charlie needs time to mourn him properly.’ Hazel shot a quick glance at George Cotterill as though unable to keep her eyes off the man. ‘I think he’ll come around to the idea of George as a stepdad eventually, though.’
‘Well, I never.’ Violet dried her eyes, so happy for her friend that she could hardly speak. ‘Congratulations. That’s bloomin’ marvellous, I’m telling you. The best news I’ve heard in a good long while.’
Arm in arm with Hazel, Violet followed George and the girls downstairs to work, not minding for once that a steaming mop and bucket would be waiting for her in the kitchen. She felt like she was living in a dream, and what a gorgeous dream it was too!
She wished she could let Lily and Alice in on the amazing news she’d heard, but the colonel had been so stern about keeping her lips sealed, she didn’t dare. But the girls’ dad might not be dead, after all, and though it was all top secret at the moment, Ernst could yet turn out to be a national hero. And her old mum would be beside herself to arrive in Porthcurno and find them all tucked up cosily in some seaside cottage.
Today had started off so horribly, like a nightmare. But suddenly the sun was shining and the sea was calm, and it looked like a perfect Cornish day.
‘Now all we need is to get this war done and dusted,’ Violet said airily, ‘and we can live happily ever after. Ain’t that so, Hazel?’
George laughed. ‘We’re working on it, trust me.’
If you enjoyed Wartime with the Cornish Girls,
don’t miss the next book in the series,
Christmas with the Cornish Girls – coming soon.
Acknowledgements
What a wonderful thing it is to have a novel published!
My grateful thanks first to my marvellous agent, Alison Bonomi from LBA, who has been there for me through difficult times this past year, my number one supporter and friend.
Thank you also to my e
ditor, Tilda McDonald, whose clear-sighted suggestions have made this a much better book, plus Phoebe, Ellie, Sabah and all the incredible publishing team at Avon Books.
I’m also extremely grateful to the helpful staff at the Telegraph Museum Porthcurno, Cornwall, who answered my long series of questions with great patience and friendly enthusiasm. The brilliant museum exhibitions helped me envisage how life at Porthcurno might have been during the Second World War. Any inaccuracies are my own fault, with the caveat that I had to use creative licence occasionally in this story. Mea culpa.
Finally, a huge thank you to Steve for being such a considerate husband, and to my kids Kate, Becki, Dylan, Morris and Indigo, for putting up with an absent-minded writer for a mum, and for making me endless cups of tea!
About the Author
Betty Walker lives in Cornwall with her large family, where she enjoys gardening and coastal walks. She loves discovering curious historical facts, and devotes much time to investigating her family tree. She also writes bestselling contemporary thrillers as Jane Holland.
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
A 75, Sector 57
Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India
www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com