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Synopsis
*FROM SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE NIGHTINGALE GIRLS, DONNA DOUGLAS*
'A fascinating portrait of everyday life on the home front in wartime, with its hopes and hardships, and will leave readers counting down to the next visit to Jubilee Row.' Lancashire Post
Spring, 1941. The families of Jubilee Row are still reeling from the loss of one of their own, and as the Blitz on Hull intensifies, it seems as if there will be more tragedies to come.
As the street braces itself, Iris Fletcher returns home from the hospital, where she has been recovering after the death of her best friend and youngest child. But Iris has no time to mourn - devastated by the loss of their little sister, Archie and Kitty desperately need their mother.
Meanwhile, Edie Copeland is besotted with her infant son. Being a single mother is hard, but Edie finds support in the form of Jack Maguire who, like Edie, is raising his boys alone. As the pair grow closer, Edie begins to wonder whether they could ever be anything more than friends.
Capable mum, Ruby Maguire takes charge as usual, bolstering spirits and lending a hand, as well as trying to keep her flighty sister Pearl on the straight and narrow. But the unexpected appearance of a face from her past threatens Ruby's future far more than Hitler's bombs.
For fans of Dilly Court, Rosie Goodwin and Katie Flynn this is the second book in the Yorkshire Blitz Trilogy from the bestselling author of The Nightingale Girls.
Release date: March 1, 2021
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Print pages: 272
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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A Sister's Wish
Donna Douglas
Saturday 22nd February 1941
Iris Fletcher perched beside her father on his rully, lurching from side to side with the slow, steady plod of the horse. It was a long time since she’d been outside on such a bitterly cold night, and even the heavy blanket gathered around her shoulders couldn’t stop her shivering.
‘There’s another rug in the back if you’re nithered?’ her father offered.
‘I’m all right.’
‘Are you sure? I could fetch it for you—’
‘I’m all right, Pop, really.’
He gave her a worried sideways glance but said nothing. Iris pulled the blanket tighter around herself, breathing in the faint whiff of horse that rose from it.
They were nearly home. It was some time since they had left the bare trees and country lanes of Cottingham behind them. As they reached the city and headed south towards the Humber, the leafy suburbs gradually gave way to densely packed terraced streets and a skyline of warehouses and wharves and factory chimneys billowing acrid smoke.
A flurry of icy snowflakes stung Iris’s cheeks as she looked up at the dark February sky. She dreaded nightfall. Why couldn’t Pop have collected her during the daytime? At any moment, the mournful wail of the air raid siren might fill the night and then the planes would come, swooping low, engines droning, raining down their death and destruction.
She looked around, trying not to panic. Where would they hide? They were so exposed out here on the road. She stared at Bertha’s gently rolling flanks, willing her to go faster.
‘There’ll be no raid tonight, lass. Not in this weather.’ Her father spoke up, as if he had somehow read her thoughts.
‘I in’t worried.’
He did not reply. Iris shot a quick look at his craggy profile. Snow was settling on his cloth cap and the shoulders of his old tweed coat.
Dear old Pop. He was sixty years old and still went out with the rully every day, rain or shine, transporting freight to and from the railway yards. But the last few months had aged him. She could see it in his hooded eyes and his sagging, weather-beaten cheeks.
You did that to him. The voice spoke inside her head, sharp and taunting. You broke them all, one way or another.
She turned her thoughts away, staring down at the snowflakes melting on her gloved hands. At the convalescent home, the nurses had set up a makeshift ward in the basement to use during air raids. Iris always made sure she was down there well before the siren sounded, in bed with the covers pulled up over her head to shut out the persistent drone of the planes overhead.
She wished she was there now, safe and sound, listening to the whispering squeak of the nurses’ rubber-soled shoes and their soft, reassuring voices.
‘I’m sorry about this party,’ her father spoke up, startling her out of her reverie. ‘I told your mother you wouldn’t want it, but you know what she’s like. Once she gets an idea in her head there’s no stopping her.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘I said to her, it’s bound to be a lot for you to take in, seeing everyone again after you’ve been away so long.’
‘I’ve got to face them sometime, Pop.’
‘Aye, I suppose you’re right.’ Her father fixed his gaze on the road ahead. Then he said, ‘Happen it might be for the best to get it over with. You can’t hide away for ever, can you?’
Iris turned on him. ‘Is that what you think? That I’ve been hiding?’
‘No, lass, I didn’t mean that—’
‘I’ve been in hospital, Pop. I nearly died.’
‘I know.’ Her father retreated into silence and for a while the only sounds were the creak of the wooden rully, the jingling of the reins and the steady clop of Bertha’s hooves.
Iris pulled the blanket up around her chin, feeling the scratch of rough wool against her skin.
She could tell Pop didn’t believe her. He was just like Miss Billing, the matron at the convalescent home. ‘I’ve been speaking to your doctor, Mrs Fletcher, and he agrees with me that you should go home,’ she had said as she stood at the side of Iris’s bed a few days earlier. ‘The longer you put it off, the more difficult it will be for you.’
As if Iris did not want to go home. She longed to get back to her friends and family in Jubilee Row. She had told Miss Billing as much, but the matron had just smiled and moved on to the next bed.
‘Your mother’s been busy getting your house ready for you,’ Pop was speaking again. ‘She and Ruby were down there yesterday, to give everything a good spring clean.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She left our Lucy’s photographs out. Our Ruby thought you might want them put away, but your mother said you’d want to see them?’
Iris kept her gaze fixed on her gloved hands, ignoring his questioning look.
‘Anyway, the bains are looking forward to seeing you,’ Pop carried on. ‘Archie was all for coming with me to collect you, but I told him he should wait.’ He sent her another quick sideways look. ‘Can’t blame him, I suppose. Three months is a long time to go without seeing his mum.’
Iris sensed the criticism in his voice. ‘You know why I didn’t want them at the hospital. I didn’t want to worry them.’
‘Aye, so you said.’
Pop did not look at her this time. He was a man of few words – he had to be, married to Big May Maguire. She talked enough for both of them, he always reckoned. But his silence spoke volumes.
As they approached the western end of Hessle Road and the outbuildings of St Andrew’s Dock loomed into view, Iris suddenly found it hard to breathe. She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap to stop them shaking.
Once again, her father seemed to guess what she was thinking. ‘Sorry, lass. I didn’t think,’ he said. ‘I can turn round and go another way?’
Iris shook her head. ‘I want to see where it happened.’
‘You don’t need to do that. You’ll only upset yourself—’
‘I want to see it, Pop.’
Her father sighed. ‘If that’s what you want.’ He shook the reins and Bertha lurched forward.
They clopped steadily up Hessle Road, past more outbuildings and warehouses, once a busy, bustling place, standing silent now most of the trawlers had gone over to Fleetwood and Milford Haven. Her father swung the cart left up West Dock Road then pulled on the reins. Bertha slowed to a halt, tossing her shaggy head and snorting her disapproval at the change of direction.
Iris saw the ragged remains of a brick wall where a house had once stood. ‘Was it there?’ she whispered.
‘Aye.’ Her father’s voice was gruff. ‘That’s where it came down.’
Iris steadied herself and forced herself to turn towards the spot.
This was it. The place where her baby daughter and her best friend had been killed.
Tears came to her eyes, blurring her vision, but she forced herself to go on staring. She had to do it, to face the pain and let it claw at her heart. No matter how much it hurt, she deserved it.
It should have been you. The voice spoke up inside her head again, soft and insinuating. You should have been the one holding little Lucy’s hand when that bomb went off.
Inside her gloves, her palms were slick with sweat. But still she went on staring until her eyes dried and the pain in her chest subsided.
She turned back round in her seat.
‘I’ve seen enough,’ she said. ‘Let’s go home.’
Chapter Two
‘No, not there. It’s hanging too low. Lift your end up a bit, Ruby. No, higher than that. Now you lift your side, Edie. No, no, now it’s too high!’
‘Make your mind up, Mum!’ Ruby sighed. It was turned six o’clock. Pop would be coming home with Iris at any moment, the guests would be arriving and she still had all the food to put out and the cake to fetch from across the road. And there was a meat and potato pie still in the oven. Ruby was sure she could smell it burning from the kitchen.
She caught Edie’s eye at the other end of the bunting string. She was looking just as frustrated, balanced precariously on a chair, one eye on the pram in the corner where her baby was beginning to stir.
But Big May Maguire seemed in no hurry as she stepped back and squinted at the bunting they held looped across the window bay.
‘It won’t do,’ she declared finally. ‘Put it back over the mantelpiece.’
‘But we’ve just taken it down from there!’ Edie protested.
‘Then you can stick it back up again, can’t you?’
Edie opened her mouth to reply, but Ruby cut in quickly.
‘Let’s just get it done, shall we?’ she pleaded. ‘Our Iris will be here before we’ve had a chance to get everything ready.’
‘Aye, well, you’d best get on, then,’ Big May grumbled. ‘I don’t know why you’re both dithering about when there’s so much to be done.’
She bustled out of the parlour. Edie stared after her, open-mouthed.
‘Did you hear that? As if we haven’t been run off our feet all day, following her orders. I’ve a good mind to go home and leave her to it!’
‘Take no notice.’ Ruby smiled. ‘She’s always like this when she’s nervous.’
Edie laughed. ‘Big May, nervous?’
‘You’d be surprised. She’s worried about our Iris coming home.’
Edie’s smile faded. ‘I’m not surprised. I reckon we’re all a bit worried about seeing her again.’
Ruby looked over at Edie. ‘Even you? But you’re such good friends.’
‘We were. But I haven’t spoken to her for months. I tried writing to her at the convalescent home, but she never replied to any of my letters.’
‘Nor mine,’ Ruby said. ‘She hasn’t spoken to anyone but Mum and Pop since . . .’ She let her voice trail off. Three months after the tragedy happened, she could still hardly bring herself to talk about it. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you and Iris will be able to pick up where you left off once she’s home.’
‘I hope so.’
Ruby dragged her chair over to the fireplace. Edie did the same, her expression troubled.
‘Do you reckon Iris will have changed much?’ she said at last.
Ruby considered the question. ‘I don’t know. I suppose she’s bound to, after everything that’s gone on.’
‘Imagine losing a child.’ Edie shuddered.
‘I know.’ Ruby’s three girls were all grown up now, but she still worried about them as if they were bains.
‘I don’t even want to think about it.’ Edie’s gaze strayed to the pram in the corner where her baby son murmured and grumbled, half-asleep. ‘If anything happened to my Bobby . . .’
Poor lass, Ruby thought. Edie had already suffered more than her fair share of heartache, losing her husband at Dunkirk last summer. Now she was bringing up their baby by herself and keeping a roof over their heads by braiding nets down at St Andrew’s Dock. She was only just turned twenty-one, the same age as Ruby’s own twins. She couldn’t imagine her Sybil or Maudie going through the hardships Edie had.
They finished pinning up the bunting and climbed down off their chairs.
‘Is there much more to do?’ Edie said, looking around.
‘Only the food to put out. And I’ve got to go across the road and pick up the cake. Why don’t you get off home?’ she said to Edie. ‘You’ve done enough.’
‘Are you sure? I’d like to give Bobby his last feed and put him to bed, if I can. Mrs Huggins said she’ll keep an eye on him tonight so I can come back to the party. But I don’t want to leave if there’s still work to be done . . .’
She glanced at the door, as if she expected Big May to appear and give her another task to do.
‘You go,’ Ruby said. ‘I’ll manage the rest. Go and get yourself dolled up.’
Edie smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t know about that. It’s so long since I got dressed up I think I’ve forgotten how!’ She ran her fingers through her dark curls. Then her smile faded and she said, ‘I wish Dolly was here. It will be strange to have Iris here without her.’
‘Aye,’ Ruby said. The same thought had been on her mind all day. ‘I daresay it will be strange for poor Iris, too.’
The Maguire girls, as everyone called Iris and Dolly, had always been inseparable. They were the same age, in their mid-thirties, young mothers with a lively sense of fun. They had been more like sisters, even though Dolly was only a Maguire by marriage. Ruby was married to a Maguire too, but being a few years older at forty-two, she had never shared the same bond with Iris that Dolly did.
But now Dolly was gone, killed by the same bomb that took Iris’s three-year-old daughter, Lucy. It was nothing short of a miracle that Iris’s nine-year-old son Archie and baby Kitty had been spared.
Ruby couldn’t imagine how it would be for Iris, returning home to Jubilee Row knowing her daughter and her best friend would not be there. She pitied her with all her heart.
When Edie had gone home, Ruby took the meat and potato pie out of the oven and set it to cool, then went across the road back to her own house to collect the cake she had baked and iced the day before.
She hurried in through the front door, pausing briefly at the hall mirror to push a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. She would not have time to change out of her old skirt and blouse, but it didn’t matter. Everyone was coming to see Iris, not her.
She made her way down the narrow passageway to the kitchen, pushed open the door, and jumped at the sight of a woman smoking a cigarette at her kitchen table.
‘About time, too,’ she drawled. ‘I’ve been waiting ages for you.’
‘Pearl!’ Ruby put her hand to her chest. ‘Blimey, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What do you think you’re doing, sitting here with all the lights blazing? You’ll get us fined.’
She ran to the window and hastily pulled the thick blackout fabric across the glass.
‘I wasn’t going to sit in the dark, was I?’
‘You could have at least pulled the curtains. That in’t too much, even for you.’
‘Sorry.’ Her sister did not sound in the least bit repentant. She put out her hand and picked off a piece of chocolate icing from the cake in the middle of the table.
‘Don’t do that!’ Ruby slapped her hand away. ‘You’ll ruin it.’ She looked mournfully at the cake she had decorated so beautifully. ‘Look at it, it looks like the mice have been at it.’
‘You shouldn’t have left me waiting so long, should you?’
‘I didn’t know you were here.’
Pearl tipped back her head and blew out a thin stream of cigarette smoke towards the ceiling. No one looking at them would ever have guessed they were sisters, Ruby thought. There was Pearl, slim and dressed to the nines with her painted lips and carefully waved blonde hair. And then there was Ruby, five years older and sturdily built, her freckled face free of make-up.
‘What’s all this in aid of, anyway?’ Pearl asked, nodding towards the cake.
‘Iris is coming home. We’re having a party for her.’
Pearl’s brows rose. ‘Oh, she’s decided to come home, at last, has she?’
Ruby ignored her, snatching up a cloth and wiping away the ash her sister had dropped on the kitchen table. ‘What do you want, anyway?’
Pearl looked injured. ‘Can’t I visit my only sister without wanting something?’
Not that I’ve ever known, Ruby thought. She waited for her sister to speak.
Finally, Pearl threw up her hands and said, ‘All right, if you must know, I needed somewhere to hide. The landlady’s on the prowl.’
Ruby turned to her, aghast. ‘Oh, Pearl! Don’t tell me you haven’t paid the rent again?’
‘I knew you’d give me a lecture if I told you.’ Pearl turned away, pouting. ‘It’s all right for you. You’ve got a decent husband who sends you money.’
‘Your Frank still hasn’t sent you anything, then?’
‘I’ve heard nothing from him in a month. Not even a postcard to say he’s still alive.’ Pearl looked disgusted.
‘And you’ve no idea where he is?’
‘Believe me, if I did I’d go and find him and wring his neck for all the worry he’s caused me.’
Pearl did not look at her as she said it, and Ruby guessed her sister knew more than she was letting on. Pearl claimed her husband was away on business, but Ruby suspected Frank Tyson was either on the run from the police, or laying low because he was in trouble with one of the shady characters he dealt with.
She stared at her sister’s bowed blonde head. She had lost count of the number of times she had tried to steer Pearl out of trouble, but somehow she always managed to get herself in a mess again.
She reached for her bag with a sigh. ‘I can let you have a couple of pounds, but that’s all I can afford for the rest of the month.’
‘I didn’t come here for money,’ Pearl retorted, ‘but I won’t say no if you’re offering,’ she added quickly, as Ruby went to put her purse back in her bag.
You never do, Ruby thought as she counted out three pound notes into her sister’s outstretched palm. ‘Now promise me you’ll pay your rent?’ she said. ‘You don’t want to lose the roof over your head.’
Pearl laughed. ‘You’re joking, in’t you? This won’t even cover the arrears!’
‘Pearl!’
‘It’ll be all right, Rube. Don’t fuss.’ Pearl stuffed the money into her purse and snapped it shut. ‘Don’t look so worried. Everything will be fine. It always is.’
Ruby thought about arguing, then realised she did not have the time or the breath to waste. ‘I hope you’re right,’ she said. She gathered up the cake and tucked it carefully under her arm. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. Mum will go mad if Iris arrives before her cake.’
‘You don’t want to let your family down, do you?’
Ruby set down the cake and faced her sister, her hands planted on her hips. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’ Pearl looked back at her, all wide-eyed innocence. ‘I just envy you, that’s all, being part of a big family. Everyone knows how much the Maguires look out for each other.’
‘I look out for you, too.’
‘I know,’ Pearl sighed. ‘But sometimes I feel very alone. Especially with Frank away . . .’
Ruby stared at her sister’s wistful face. She knew exactly what Pearl was angling for, and she also knew Big May would not like it.
But how could she say no to her own flesh and blood? If she did she would only feel wretched for the rest of the night.
‘Do you want to come to the party?’ she asked.
‘Can I?’ Pearl perked up instantly.
‘I suppose so. But you’ve got to promise to behave yourself,’ she added.
Pearl’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.
Chapter Three
Iris stood on the cobbled street, listening to the sound of music and laughter spilling out from the Maguires’ house. It seemed unbearably noisy after the soothing hush of the convalescent home. Suddenly she desperately wanted to be back there, safe on the ward, where no one knew her and she didn’t have to put on a show.
She started at the sudden pressure of her father’s hand on her arm.
‘You don’t have to do this if you in’t ready—’
‘I am ready, Pop.’ She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. As ready as I’ll ever be, she thought.
Everything stopped when she walked in to the parlour. Harry Pearce from the corner shop had been bashing out a joyful tune on the piano, but his hands stilled on the keys as all eyes swivelled in Iris’s direction, pinning her where she stood.
Iris looked around at them all. So many faces. Once they had been as familiar to her as her own, but now they seemed like strangers.
She caught sight of Edie Copeland, smiling at her. Iris tried to smile back, but the muscles in her face were too stiff and unyielding to manage more than a grimace.
‘Here she is.’ Her mother was coming towards her, her hands outstretched. ‘We were wondering where you’d got to.’
‘We thought you’d changed your mind!’ one of the neighbours, Wally Barnitt, called out.
‘As if she’d do such a thing.’ Her mother beamed at her. ‘She knows this is where she belongs. In’t that right, lass?’
She moved in quickly before Iris could reply, wrapping her arms around her. Iris allowed herself to be swallowed up in her mother’s soft, pillowy embrace. She couldn’t remember the last time she had hugged her. May Maguire was a loving mother, but as far as she was concerned, cuddles were only for bains. Being in her arms now just added to Iris’s feeling of utter strangeness. If Big May felt the need to hug her then there was truly nothing right in the world.
‘You’re skin and bone,’ her mother declared, releasing her at last. ‘Haven’t they been feeding you at that hospital? We must get you something to eat.’
‘I’m not hungry, Mum.’
‘Nonsense, you need feeding up. Ruby, fetch a plate—’
‘You heard what the lass said. Leave her be.’ Pop was smiling as he said it, but Iris heard the tension in his voice. Her mother must have heard it too. She opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it.
‘I daresay you’ll be wanting to see your bains?’ She turned, summoning the children. ‘Archie, where are you? Come here, lad. Don’t be shy now. It’s your mum, she in’t going to bite you.’
Archie came forward, pulling little Kitty by the hand. He looked like a stranger too, all dressed up in his Sunday best, his hair slicked back and his face scrubbed. And Kitty . . . was this chubby toddler really the baby Iris had left behind? She had changed so much in the three months since Iris had last seen her.
She was aware of everyone watching her, smiling expectantly. She looked back at Archie. He was staring at her too, his eyes wide and wary.
‘Hello, son. Goodness, haven’t you grown? You’re a proper young man now.’
She wanted to hold her arms out to him but somehow she did not dare. She had the feeling if she tried he would refuse to hug her and she couldn’t bear that.
‘And here’s baby Kitty. Although she in’t such a baby any more, as you can see.’ Her mother swept up the child and dumped her in Iris’s arms.
‘Hello, little one.’ Iris smiled at her. Kitty took one look at her mother’s face and promptly burst into tears.
‘Don’t cry, pet. It’s your mum come home,’ May said. But Kitty only screamed and struggled harder, fighting to get out of her arms.
‘Here, you’d best take her.’ Iris thrust the child back at her mother.
Her mother set the little girl on the floor and she immediately toddled off to hide behind her brother, pressing her face into his jersey.
Out of the corner of her eye Iris could see the neighbours exchanging knowing looks.
‘She’ll be all right once she gets used to you again,’ her mother said.
‘I know.’ Iris looked at Archie, his arm protectively around his little sister’s shoulders.
His silent reproach was even more palpable than Kitty’s noisy protests.
Why weren’t you there when we needed you?
She could hear the words, almost as clearly as if he had spoken them out loud.
Iris shrank from his steady, questioning gaze. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was. She wanted him to know how much it tore at her that she was not there to hold her little daughter when she was dying.
A burst of laughter from the crowd startled her. Iris looked up and caught a flash of bright blonde hair.
Dolly? She had almost said her name out loud until she realised it was only Ruby’s sister, Pearl.
She looked around. Her fear and confusion must have shown on her face because everyone was staring back at her. She pulled herself together quickly and pasted a smile on her face.
‘I think I will have something to eat, after all,’ she said to her mother. . . .
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