A Lucky Sixpence

by Anne Baker

Genres: Family Life; Marriage & Divorce; Siblings; World War II; Sagas

Synopsis

It's 1937 and for sisters Lizzie and Milly Travis there's nothing quite like the thrill of the funfair at New Brighton. Amid the bright lights and whirling rides, Lizzie wins a lucky sixpence on a stall – as well as the heart of a handsome stallholder. Ben McCluskey isn't the type of man Lizzie's respectable parents had in mind for her, nevertheless the young couple embark on a whirlwind romance. Lizzie's mother worries that history will repeat itself when Ben introduces her daughter to a world she never knew existed. And, as war looms, Milly realises that her sister's luck can't last for ever...

Release date: October 18, 2018

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 448

Sample

Chapter One

Wednesday 12 May 1937

It was a fine spring morning and a public holiday. For months civic dignitaries all over the country had been planning celebrations for the coronation of George VI, and for Milly Travis the excitement had built until it was sky high. It was also her thirteenth birthday.

The Travis family were eating their breakfast. ‘I love the fountain pen, Dadda, thank you,’ she sang out. He’d also given her thirteen shillings, one for every year she’d lived. He did the same every year, but he said it was to be put in her post office savings account to buy something important. She must learn to look after her money; it must not be frittered away on fun. She carried on tearing open the cards from her school friends.

Elizabeth, her nineteen-year-old sister, believed in spending her wages and having all the fun she could – ‘A public holiday,’ she said to Milly. ‘Blissful, I don’t have to go to work,’ though she loved her job in the best dress shop in New Brighton’s shopping centre.

New Brighton was a holiday resort at the mouth of the Mersey; a place given over to fun. It had both the largest open-air swimming pool and the longest promenade in England.

Milly, or Emilia as she’d been christened, had gone to her shop and Lizzie had bought her a new dress for her birthday. She was wearing it now and said it was easily her favourite present. Both Father and Mum disapproved of it, though Mum had bought her a new hat and new shoes to wear with it. ‘They think you’re too young to have a bit of style,’ Lizzie told her. ‘They don’t understand that every girl needs a change from gingham dresses and Peter Pan collars.’ At the shop, Lizzie’s boss thought it exactly right for Milly.

During the last week Milly had taken part in a display of keep-fit exercises at the swimming pool, enjoyed a tea party at the Embassy Rooms and been given a shiny penny showing the new King’s head, and at school she’d been given a commemorative mug and tickets for four free rides at the local funfair. She rated the free rides very highly.

Dadda had frowned and said, ‘You know I don’t approve of the amusement arcade, it’s not a suitable place for young girls. Don’t go down there today. The pubs will be open late and the young lads will take celebrating too far.’

Dadda was Major Esmond Travis and on the council. He liked to arrange things, but he hadn’t got his own way on the matter of the licensing hours.

Lizzie whispered, ‘I’ll take you, Milly. Today should be given over to enjoyment; we’ll count it part of the Coronation festivities.’ Despite their father’s disapproval, Milly had been before with her friends from school, and she knew Lizzie went quite often.

The girls were looking forward to a great day. Their parents took them to the town hall in the morning for a civic ceremony. Dadda had lost one arm in the war and wore his imitation limb which ended in a leather glove, so nobody would know. He was up on a dais with his colleagues on the council, and because he was an important person they had been given seats on the front row.

Their mother looked smart in a new hat with pink flowers on the brim and she and Lizzie sat one each side of her. ‘You’re proud of Dadda, aren’t you?’ Milly whispered.

‘Yes, he does a lot of work for others, and I’m proud of my two girls too,’ Mum said, squeezing her hand.

Afterwards they watched the mayor’s procession of floats, decorated with flowers and flags going through the streets, and were swept up on a wave of pleasure and excitement. Brass bands were playing rousing tunes, and they’d heard some of the ceremony broadcast from Westminster Abbey being relayed through the streets.

Everybody was out this morning and they met lots of people they knew. Dadda had friends he played chess with, and he knew some of the fathers of Lizzie’s boyfriends, of which there were many.

They normally ate lunch at one o’clock. Dadda was a stickler for having meals on time, but today their meal of beef casserole and rice pudding with rhubarb was delayed until nearly four, and afterwards Dadda went out to another civic ceremony.

Lizzie had it all planned: the girls washed up hurriedly and made a cup of tea for Mum. Lizzie took it to her and said, ‘You won’t mind if I take Milly to the fair for an hour or so to have her free rides?’

‘All right, love, but don’t be late home. It’s back to school and work tomorrow.’

They lived on the edge of town and were going down the lane to catch a bus to the promenade, when Lizzie grabbed her hand and started to run. ‘Come on, I can see one coming. We don’t want to miss it.’

Once in the crowd in the arcade Milly felt bewitched by the screams of people on the high dipper, the roar of engines and the yells of glee from the bumper cars. She took the tickets for her free rides from her pocket. Lizzie asked, ‘What do you want to try first?’

‘Let’s go into the arcade.’ There was an indoor amusement arcade as well as an outdoor fair. A ragtime band was blasting out from the swingboats and a caterpillar ride had clashing music that almost drowned it out. There was every sort of ride and sideshow imaginable: dodgems, a big wheel and huge merry-go-rounds of every sort.

Milly watched the one in front of her; it had rearing horses to ride, galloping giraffes and even motorbikes. Anticipation soared. ‘This one.’

She pulled her sister towards a huge motorbike on the outside row. It took an effort to get astride and the handlebars stretched her arms wide apart. Two young men were collecting fares and one was coming towards them. ‘Oh my goodness,’ Lizzie said as she climbed on behind her, ‘this fellow tries to chat me up every time I come here.’

Milly offered her free ticket but he ignored it and smiled at Lizzie. ‘Why hello. I’ve seen you here before. You must be the most beautiful girl in the country.’ He had a cheeky grin and curly hair. ‘I’d like to know you better. My name is Ben McCluskey.’

‘Ben for Benjamin?’ Milly asked.

‘No, it’s short for Benedict,’ he said, ‘and I don’t care much for it. What’s yours?’

Lizzie was silent. ‘It’s Elizabeth,’ Milly told him. ‘Elizabeth Hardman, she’s my sister.’ Everybody loved and admired Lizzie. She was the golden girl of the family with long blonde curls that reached halfway down her back, but tonight they were pinned back so she no longer looked like a child. Milly knew her own hair, straight and a plain brown colour, was not considered nearly so attractive. Lizzie was full of spirit and accepted as the family beauty; she was also daring and full of fun. Milly was very close to her.

‘Elizabeth is a bit of a mouthful,’ Ben said. ‘Are you known as Betty?’

She laughed. ‘No, it’s Lizzie,’ she said.

He looked doubtfully from one to the other and said, ‘You’re not much alike.’

He seemed to be looking over her head. Milly straightened up and said, ‘Half-sister, we have the same mother but different fathers.’

‘Why is that?’

Lizzie offered him her four pennies and said icily, ‘Our mother was widowed and married again. We are a very respectable family.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t.’

‘Hadn’t you better take our fares?’ Lizzie went on. ‘Your boss won’t be pleased if you neglect your duties.’

‘I’m the boss.’ He smiled. ‘I own this roundabout. If you’ll talk to me you can have free rides. So can your half-sister.’

‘Thank you,’ Milly said. The roundabout was filling up. He moved away to start the ride. ‘Isn’t he kind?’

‘He’s trying to pick me up,’ Lizzie said. ‘Father would be horrified.’

‘But he’s nice and he’s good-looking and he likes you.’ The ride started slowly but soon the motorbike was spinning round faster and faster, rising and falling at the same time. Foot-tapping hurdy-gurdy music was blaring out and Milly’s head began to spin. It was a delicious feeling, but far too soon it was slowing. She was reluctant to get off.

The man was heading towards them again. ‘Don’t go,’ he pleaded. ‘I’d never do anything to harm you. Stay and talk to me. Are you on holiday or do you live here?’

‘We live here,’ Lizzie said.

‘Good, in New Brighton? So do I. My home town too. Whereabouts do you live?’

‘Out Oakdene way,’ Milly said.

‘That’s the posh end of town.’

‘Perhaps it was once, but there’s nothing posh about it now. Our house is so old the rain comes in on the top landing.’

‘You didn’t have to tell him that,’ Lizzie muttered into her neck.

Milly felt she had to explain. ‘Years and years ago our house was a dairy farm and Dad’s family sold milk from a horse-drawn cart, but then the big dairies took over and sold milk more cheaply and took all the trade.’

‘It ruined his business?’

‘Our grandparents’ business, yes.’ Sometimes Dadda talked of the pain of having to sell off his farmland to support the family. Building work had taken place all round them and terraces of houses were creeping closer.

By the time Milly had had four free rides and not used one of her free tickets, Ben was wearing Lizzie’s wariness down. She seemed to like him better. When he returned, Milly asked, ‘Whereabouts do you live?’

‘I’m in lodgings down here; just behind the ham and chips parade.’

She’d heard her father speak of that area in derogatory tones. ‘Do you like living there?’

‘Yes, it’s great. Just behind the prom, in the middle of town and handy for working here. So your dad’s a farmer?’

‘No,’ Lizzie said, ‘he lost an arm and had other terrible injuries in the last war so he hasn’t been able to work since.’

‘I’m sorry . . .’

‘No need to be, he’s not my dad. He’s Milly’s.’

‘How about letting your sister go home, then I could take you for a drink? One of the posh hotels if you like.’

Milly was relieved to hear Lizzie’s outraged tone. ‘No! It’s her birthday and I’ve brought her here as a treat.’

‘I’m thirteen,’ she gulped, sliding off the motorbike. ‘Thank you for the rides but I’d like to try something else now.’

‘Come and see my shooting range,’ Ben said.

‘We don’t want to shoot. We know nothing about guns.’

‘I could teach you.’

‘No,’ Lizzie said, ‘we don’t want to know anything about war and guns.’

‘They aren’t real guns, of course, come and see them. The rifle range belonged to my dad, but I’ve been running it since I was sixteen.’

‘Aren’t you living with your family?’ Milly asked.

‘No, my grandpa brought me up but he was getting old and wanted to go home to Ireland, so he fixed me up in Mrs Philpin’s lodging house and she’s looked after me since.’

‘From sixteen?’ Lizzie asked. ‘And does she look after you?’

‘Yes, she’s great.’

‘How old are you now?’ Milly knew all adults considered this vital information.

‘Twenty-two.’

‘But what about your mother and father?’

‘My mother died having another baby and my dad got homesick. Eventually he went back to Ireland to go into business with my uncle.’

‘You’ve been very unlucky that way,’ Milly told him. She studied his face; he was very young to be running his own business and making his own way in the world. And he was very interested in Lizzie.

‘I’ve got by. Do come and see my rifle range. I’ve got lots of prizes there,’ he said. ‘You could choose one as a birthday present.’

A crowd clustered round the rifle range, assessing the performance of those shooting and waiting to have a go themselves. Milly’s eye was taken by the prizes they could win displayed on the shelves. ‘You mean I can choose one of those?’ She took in the choice he was offering her. ‘Those teddy bears are lovely,’ she gulped.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Lizzie said. ‘You’re thirteen and far too old for teddy bears.’

‘A nice ornament for a girl’s bedroom,’ Ben said. ‘Not too old for that. Or perhaps you’d prefer one of the soft toys?’

Milly’s eyes lingered over the woolly lamb but her mind was made up when she saw the kangaroo with a baby in its pouch. It was made of purple plush and was absolutely gorgeous.

‘Father would say you shouldn’t accept it,’ Lizzie said. ‘Anyway, it’ll be a bother carrying it round for the rest of the time we’re here.’

‘I’ll take it back to my roundabout,’ Ben said, his eyes smiling at Milly. ‘I’ll look after it for you until you’re ready to go home. You will come back to collect it and have a last ride with me?’

‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘See you later then.’ But he was grinning at Lizzie now.

‘Isn’t he lovely?’ Milly asked when he’d turned away. ‘Kind and very generous too.’

‘He’s only being generous to you because he thinks it’ll make me like him more.’

‘But you do like him, don’t you?’

Lizzie smiled. ‘What is there to dislike about him?’

‘That means you do,’ Milly said happily. ‘Let’s have a go on the swingboats.’

The time sped past as Milly used up her free tickets and Lizzie treated her to a turn on the dodgems, the big wheel, and a pennyworth of chips.

They watched the activity at McCluskey’s rifle range for a while. Milly saw some of her friends from school and Lizzie saw her boss. Everybody was at the fair tonight.

Chapter Two

Finally, Lizzie led the way back to Ben’s merry-go-round saying, ‘Mum said we mustn’t be late home. We should go.’

Ben greeted them like long-lost friends. ‘Not without having a last ride.’ He ushered Milly towards a rearing horse and half lifted her onto its back. He was talking to Lizzie as he turned up the volume of the music. Milly felt marvellous as she was bobbed up and down and whirled round to ‘Camptown Races’. The magic was definitely here. She was sorry to feel it slowing to a halt. Ben was coming towards them with the kangaroo he’d given her.

‘I’ll walk you to your bus,’ he told Lizzie. The crowd in the fairground had thinned; he linked arms with them both.

Milly said, ‘This has been the most perfect birthday ever.’ She didn’t want it to end. She saw the roll-a-penny stall. ‘I haven’t spent my new penny yet,’ she said. ‘You roll it for me, Lizzie; see if you can win more money, then I can come again.’

‘Your chances of winning are not great.’ Ben had an infectious chuckle. ‘Old Bill has to make a living from this.’

‘I call her Lucky Lizzie,’ Milly said. ‘She’s always very lucky.’

‘She’ll need to be.’

‘She never fails to win a raffle prize when Dad takes us to one of his charity parties.’

The roll-a-penny stall was circular, with the owner standing in the middle trying to entice everyone to play. His counter was marked out in squares, each one showing a prize between two pence and a shilling. As the prize went higher the squares got smaller and to win, the player had to roll a penny down a small chute and have it settle on a square without touching any of the dividing lines.

Milly expected Lizzie to drag her home, but tonight Ben said, ‘Sure, try your luck. Why not?’ He was prepared to indulge her to the hilt.

‘It’s getting late, we ought to go.’ Lizzie hesitated but she accepted Milly’s new penny and kept it poised at the top of the chute for a second.

‘Do you mutter “abracadabra” or something over it?’ Ben laughed.

‘No, nothing at all,’ she let it roll down the chute, ‘it just happens.’

The penny wobbled and finally settled exactly in the middle of a square marked 6d.

‘You’ve won a sixpence!’ Milly shrieked. ‘I knew you would.’

The owner tossed a small silver coin to Lizzie. ‘Gosh,’ she said, ‘I’ve not seen one like this before. It’s brand new. I shall keep it for luck.’

‘Lot of new coins about right now,’ the owner said. ‘It’s the Coronation.’

‘A lucky sixpence,’ Milly cried, ‘but you’ve lost my penny. You’ve got to have another go.’

‘Try and stop me.’ Lizzie was feeling in her pocket for coins. ‘I’m feeling lucky.’

‘Surely you won’t go on winning?’ Ben said.

Lizzie let another new penny roll down the chute and this time it landed on a square marked 3d. The owner pursed his lips and threw two dark pennies to join it and pushed all three towards Lizzie.’

‘Have another go,’ Milly breathed.

Once again, the bright penny rolled across the counter and this time Lizzie won five pence. She pushed her winnings into Milly’s hand and used the new penny to have another turn. She won another three pence. Milly felt ecstatic. ‘I told you she was lucky.’

‘I wouldn’t have believed it,’ Ben breathed.

‘I want to have a go.’ Milly chose one of the new pennies and let it roll in exactly the way Lizzie had. It came to settle over several lines.

‘Rotten luck,’ Ben sympathised.

Milly was getting anxious now. ‘Come on, let’s go, we don’t want Dadda to get home before us. He’ll be cross.’

Lizzie reluctantly agreed and they left. Out on the promenade there were miles of fairy lights and Milly could see a ferry boat on the river all decorated and lit up. Beyond that, the lights of Liverpool twinkled; it was like fairyland. A large crowd was waiting at the bus stop, but a bus was just about to pull in. ‘I hope we get on.’ Lizzie was worried now, but it was full long before their turn came. There were calls of, ‘Is there another bus coming?’

‘Yes, the next bus will be the last tonight and it’ll be going to the bus sheds.’

‘That’s no good to us,’ Lizzie wailed. ‘It’s not going our way.’

‘Oh gosh,’ Milly had a sinking feeling, ‘we’re going to be very late home. We’ll have to walk.’

‘Is it far?’ Ben asked.

‘Yes,’ Lizzie groaned, ‘we’ll be in trouble.’

‘Not that far,’ Milly said.

A rowdy group passed them, noisily slurring the few words they could remember of ‘Land of Hope and Glory’.

‘Listen to them,’ Lizzie said. ‘Father was against letting the pubs stay open longer today.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ben said. ‘I’ll see you safely home.’

‘But then you’ll have to walk all the way back,’ Milly pointed out, ‘and what about your merry-go-round? Don’t you need to look after that?’

‘I have Duggie Bennett to do that,’ Ben grinned at her, ‘and he won’t be busy at this time of night. Which is the shortest way for you? Come on, step out and you’ll soon be home.’ He took one of each of their arms and started to whistle a brisk march.

Milly was relieved when they reached their lane. They were silent and tired now, but she could see the hall light shining out to guide them to the front door. Her heart seemed to miss a beat when she noticed the light showing between the curtains of their parents’ bedroom; they must be waiting up for them. Suddenly, she realised a car was turning into the lane behind them; its headlights lighting everything up.

‘Oh, heaven help us,’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘This is Father coming home in a taxi. We’ll be in for it now.’

It drew up beside them and Major Esmond Travis, wearing his formal dinner jacket and his row of military medals, leapt out and said angrily, ‘What are you two doing out at this time of night?’ Milly was shocked into silence and it seemed Lizzie was too. ‘And who is this with you?’

‘My name is Ben McCluskey,’ he said politely.

‘But what are you doing here? I don’t know you.’

‘I’m seeing your daughters get home safely, sir. They missed the last bus and had to walk.’

‘Elizabeth! You’ve been into town and taken Emilia with you? I expressly told you not to go tonight.’

‘Sorry, Father.’

Ben had taken Milly’s kangaroo when she got tired and had carried it most of the way; now he handed it back to her. ‘I’d better go, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘You know where to find me. Perhaps you’ll come tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘No,’ Dadda thundered. ‘I forbid it. Go into the house, both of you. Emilia, what is that monstrosity?’

‘A kangaroo, Dadda.’ He stood glaring at it, breathing heavily.

‘It was given to Emilia as a birthday present,’ Lizzie said frostily. ‘You surely wouldn’t ask her to hand a birthday present back?’

His lips were straight and his expression stern. Milly knew they’d be in for a row once the taxi driver had been paid off.

Elsie Travis had had a bath an hour ago and had been working herself up ever since. She was waiting for her daughters to come home, willing them to get here before Esmond. She didn’t want to tell him they were still out. She’d told Lizzie not to be late and thought she’d understood she was to come home earlier than usual, because she had Milly with her. She shouldn’t have allowed Milly to go to the fair.

They’d had a good day of celebration, a day of happiness and hope for the future, but it had left her more anxious than ever. She was never at ease at church parades and civic ceremonies with Esmond’s colleagues. She couldn’t join in the small talk and she had to remember what Esmond kept telling her, that their wives did not intend to exclude or intimidate her.

Everything had gone so well for Esmond today: all the speeches, the pomp and ceremony and rejoicing. They’d all enjoyed the martial music, the floats and the flowers and the lovely day out – until now. Like everybody else, Elsie had completely forgotten that the threat of war was on the horizon. For the last few years all of England had watched what the Nazis were doing in Europe and shuddered. It was less than twenty years since they’d had the last terrible war, the war that was meant to end all wars.

Elsie had been a teenager at the time, and she remembered it well. Her father had been killed at Passchendaele. Her mother had carried on running the family corner shop, a small grocery business, and that had sheltered them from the acute shortages that had brought hunger to the rest of the population.

None had more reason to remember the war than Esmond. He had served in the trenches from the very beginning and survived until he lost his arm at Verdun in 1916. He was living in absolute dread of another war.

Could she hear a car coming? Elsie shot out of bed to open the curtains again. No, all was dark and silent in the lane outside. It was past eleven; where were the girls? Esmond said she gave Lizzie far too much freedom, and she should never have allowed her to take Milly to the fairground tonight.

Elsie felt fraught. She must stop coming to the window; it was impossible to see anything but the glow in the sky above the fairground, the lights of the town and the ships heading into the Mersey estuary. Where were the girls?

Suddenly there was the noise of the taxi at the door and of several voices. Disaster! They’d all come home together. Esmond would know exactly how late the girls were and she knew how he’d feel about that. She leapt out of bed, reached for her dressing gown and ran downstairs to join them.

Esmond was white with fury. ‘I told Elizabeth not to go into town tonight and not to take Milly to the fairground,’ he was shouting. ‘She blatantly disobeyed me, and not only that, she’s picked up some lout from the fairground.’

Elsie leaned against the banister to get her breath. She ought to tell him she’d given them permission but her nerve failed her.

‘Those girls have far too much freedom. We should not allow them out in the evenings like this. It’s not safe for them after dark.’

She had to bring this to an end. She sounded desperate to her own ears. ‘Esmond, it’s getting late and high time they were both in bed, it’s school and work tomorrow. Come along, you two.’

She kissed them and gave each a brief hug, then sent them upstairs. ‘Goodnight, no hanging about, get into your beds as quickly as you can.’

‘I suppose,’ he cried, ‘you told them they could go? You should have had more sense.’

‘I’ll pour your nightcap for you,’ she said, heading towards his study where he kept his whisky.

Her hand was shaking as she reached for the bottle – how many times had Lizzie told her not to say that? ‘He may have only one arm, Mum, but he’s more than capable of opening bottles and pouring himself a drink.’ They all knew that if a cork didn’t come out easily, he’d sit down and hold the bottle between his knees, and he’d developed more than average strength in his one wrist.

‘Let him do what he can,’ Lizzie had urged. ‘There’s no need to wait on him hand and foot.’ But Elsie couldn’t forget that once it had been her job to do exactly that. How could she when she’d been his housekeeper for six years before she became his wife? It was a habit she was finding hard to break. She gave him his drink and went back to bed alone.

He’d calmed down by the time he came up to bed, but she knew he was still angry with Lizzie. All the same, he was asleep long before she was. She listened to his regular breathing and thought about him – her second husband.

She’d known him since Lizzie was eight months old and she’d had to find a job. Elsie had replied to an advert in the local paper and become Esmond Travis’s housekeeper. She’d walked the mile or so to his house and worked from nine to five with a half day on Saturday. During the first year he’d hardly spoken to her apart from pointing out the jobs he wanted her to do. He kept himself apart and she thought him introverted, but he did have friends who came to the house. He was interested in chess and the editor of the local paper came regularly for a game.

He was considerate and kind to her, but by nature he was habit-bound and changed nothing in his routine. Life at Oakdene Farm was always stable and predictable.

Jasper Hardman, Lizzie’s father and her first husband, was as different to Esmond as chalk and cheese. While her working life had been stable, her life at home with him had been a nightmare. There they rocked from one problem to another.

In time, Esmond began to talk to her more; he unbent, asked after Lizzie and became more sympathetic. She was still wary of him, and occasionally conscious of the need to placate him. Things had stayed like that for years.

By then she had no one else to confide in, and as she always found Esmond kind and helpful she’d begun to talk about her problems. From time to time he even spoke of his own difficulties. He’d told her that he’d been fighting in the trenches when he’d lost his arm, but he didn’t want to talk about it much.

His left arm had been amputated above the elbow, and at the beginning just to think of that had given her collywobbles. She’d never seen his arm bare and didn’t want to, but before they were married he’d felt he must show it to her. ‘You have to know what you’re letting yourself in for,’ he’d said.

She’d had to try hard not to flinch but now she was used to it. That was not his only injury; apart from the bullet that had to be removed from his arm, he’d had to have pieces of shrapnel removed from his chest and that had left him with scars all down his left side.

She knew by the way his face twisted that he was sometimes in pain, but he never complained. He seemed to radiate sincerity and honesty and they were the qualities she missed most in Jasper.

He spoke with regret of the collapse of his family farm, of his inability to follow a worthwhile career, and his enforced idleness. ‘But you were a war hero and badly injured,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t work.’

‘I should have tried harder. I might have felt more fulfilled if I had. A man needs to work, Elsie. Everybody needs something to fill their day.’

Elsie marvelled that anybody would want more to do. For her there weren’t enough hours in the day to get through her work. ‘But you have your career working for the council,’ she said.

‘That isn’t a career; it is unpaid voluntary work to fill my time. I’m just a lonely old man, tossed aside in the modern world. I don’t fit in.’

Chapter Three

The next day at school Milly couldn’t stop yawning, but Lizzie came home from work brimming with energy. ‘I went to see Ben in my lunch hour,’ she whispered. ‘He’s taking me to the Albion Hotel tonight for a drink.’ Milly could see her sister was excited. ‘Don’t say anything to Father. I don’t want him to know.’

But Major Travis was not over the anger he’d felt last night, and over their evening meal of steak and onions, he said, ‘Elizabeth, you showed a lack of responsibility towards your younger sister by taking her into town last night.’

‘I’m sorry, Father.’

‘You keep saying you’re sorry but you go on doing things you know are wrong. You never stop to think.’

‘I was able to have my free rides, Dadda.’ Milly smiled at him. ‘I really enjoyed them.’

Dadda snorted with disgust. ‘I’ve been thinking about that fellow who brought you home, Lizzie. I don’t think he’s a suitable person for you to know.’

‘Why not?’ she demanded.

Milly saw Mum close her eyes in resignation.

‘You know why not. You let him pick you up in the fairground. I don’t think you should see him again.’

Lizzie was bristling with indignation. ‘Father, I am nineteen years old and capable of making my own friends. I do not need your help.’

‘I’m thinking of your safety,’ he said coldly.

‘You don’t need to. For your information, Ben is taking me to t