A Time to Remember

Book 1: Rivenshaw Saga

by Anna Jacobs

Genres: Sagas; Romance; Historical Romance

Synopsis

The first book in a heartwarming new Lancashire-based series by beloved and bestselling saga writer Anna Jacobs, set at the end of World War Two.

1945 – the war in Europe is over. It should be a time of utter joy and celebration.

Most women can't wait for their men to return, but in the small town of Rivenshaw in Lancashire, Judith Crossley fears having her husband back in the house. He'd grown into a bully and a drunkard, and on the occasions he'd come home from leave, he'd hit her. He wasn't a good father, either.

Luckily Judith has found an unlikely ally, a friend to turn to – Maynard Esher, from an old aristocratic family on the other side of town. But Judith knows that when her husband returns, she and her children will be back in the firing line again.

She decides that for the children's sake, she must leave her husband. But with the house rented in his name and other accommodation scarce, where on earth can they go...?

(P) 2019 Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

Release date: January 1, 2015

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 303

Sample

Judith read the letter again, tears of pride welling in her eyes. She gave her eldest daughter a big hug. ‘You’re a clever girl, Kitty. I’m so very proud of you. To think of a daughter of mine going to Rivenshaw Girls’ Grammar.’

The girl hugged her back, then pulled away, her smile fading. ‘It’s nice to know I could pass, Mum, but we both know Dad won’t let me go to a posh private school.’ She sniffed hard and when that didn’t work, smeared away a tear with a damp, crumpled handkerchief.

‘Your father isn’t here much now he’s in the Army. I’ll make sure you do go.’ Judith gave her daughter another hug. ‘No one turns down the Esherwood Bequest.’

‘But it’ll cost a lot more than Baker Street Senior School, so how will you manage? There’s the uniform to buy and other things too, like hockey sticks. And before the war, the girls went away on a trip every year.’

It might have been the moon, to hear Kitty speak of travelling anywhere. Judith felt guilty that she’d never had the money to take her children away from Rivenshaw, not even into Manchester. But things were going to change now. Oh, yes! Kitty wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

She tapped the letter. ‘It says here that not only will your school fees be paid by the bequest but they’ll buy your uniform and books. I don’t see how your dad can complain about that.’

‘He’ll find something to moan about. He always does. Anyway, only posh people go to the Girls’ Grammar. I wouldn’t fit in.’

‘That’s changed. There are other girls sent there by the local authority these days. I was reading about it in the paper. The grammar school isn’t just for fee-paying students now; it’s for everyone who deserves a good education.’

Kitty gave a bitter laugh. ‘Dad doesn’t care about that. He wants me out earning as soon as possible so he can take my wages for his boozing.’

It upset Judith that her children’s lives were being increasingly affected by Doug’s failings as a father and earner. He’d changed greatly from the man she’d married, never had a kind word for anyone these days.

She knew what Kitty was doing – preparing for disappointment, that’s what. Well, this time Judith wasn’t going to let her daughter lose her big chance. ‘You’ll fit in anywhere if you’re polite, friendly and work hard. I’ll manage whatever you need apart from uniform and books.’

She saw Kitty’s disbelieving look. They had been very poor before her husband joined the Army after a drunken spree. There had been days when she’d gone without food, apart from a slice of bread, so that her children could eat.

Now she got part of her husband’s Army pay every week as well as what she earned, which made a big difference. There was talk of making women take up the jobs men had left. She didn’t need much convincing; she needed the money too much.

Other women wept at their husbands going away; she’d been hard put not to dance for joy.

Kitty shook her head, not so easily convinced. ‘There’ll be bus fares, as well. It’s right out at the other side of town.’

Judith sighed. The hard times before the war had marked her eldest, made poor Kitty grow up too quickly. At eleven, the child should be thinking of skipping ropes, not worrying about money. ‘I’m working at the mill now and I’m managing to put a bit aside, so we’ll have enough money for the extras and the fares. We’ll get by.’

Kitty snorted. ‘When Dad comes back, he’ll take your money and buy rounds of drinks for his friends at the pub.’

‘Not if I hide the money. Things are going to change in this family, love.’

‘Dad hasn’t changed and he won’t. When he comes home on leave, he still hits you.’

Judith hated the children to see that. She hesitated, nibbling her thumb, as she always did when thinking hard. ‘Look, for the time being, we won’t tell him about you getting the scholarship.’

‘He’ll find out.’

‘Even if he does, he won’t be here to stop you going to grammar school. It’s a wonderful chance for you.’

Kitty looked at her sadly. ‘You always look on the bright side, Mum. How do you manage that?’

Judith didn’t tell her eldest child how hard it was to smile sometimes. Doug hadn’t been like this when he was younger, or she’d not have married him. He’d been a bit rough, but fun. The fun stopped when she fell pregnant. And now, at thirty-two, she sometimes forgot the good times. They’d never really returned, after all.

Yet out of her increasingly unhappy marriage had come her three children, who were the joy of her life. They were such good children and deserved a chance for a better life. She’d do anything for them.

She turned as Ben and Gillian came rushing in, hungry after playing out with their friends. ‘Come and hear how clever your sister is.’

When she’d finished telling them about the scholarship, she untied her apron. ‘Now, let’s go and tell your grandpa. It’ll make his day.’

She kept an eye on Ben, who could be a bit jealous of his older sister, but he was looking at Kitty as if he’d never seen her before. Judith took the opportunity to whisper to him: ‘See what happens when you work hard at school. You and Gillian are just as clever as our Kitty. You could get a scholarship too, if you tried hard, Ben love.’

He frowned but for once didn’t pull away when she hugged him. He was growing fast, her lad was. At nine, he was the tallest in his class. She reckoned he was going to be a big man like his father. She prayed he wouldn’t have Doug’s violent streak, though.

As they walked along the street, she wished her mother were still alive to hear the news. She’d have burst with pride.

On his next leave Doug was even more grumpy than usual. He complained that Judith was out at work when he arrived. As if she had any choice!

While she was making tea for the family, he complained about the new sergeant and living conditions at the camp, then asked her for money.

‘I’ve not got anything to spare.’

‘If you’re out at work you must have. You should give some of your money to me now. It’s criminal the way they take money out of my wages to send to you lot when you don’t need it.’

In spite of her struggles, he got her purse out of her handbag and took all the coins it contained.

‘What about the children? I have to feed them.’

‘You’ve food in the pantry. They’ll be all right.’

Fortunately, she’d hidden most of her money, but she resented losing even that small amount.

When the children came in from playing – they’d been wise enough to stay outside – he complained about their noise. He hit Ben within the first half-hour, then smacked little Gillian’s cheek when she tripped over and made him splash hot tea over his hand.

Kitty was still at her friend’s house down the street. After she came home, she ate her meal quickly then said she had homework to do and escaped into the front room. This was furnished only with an old table and rickety chairs Judith had bought second-hand for the children to do homework on.

Kitty didn’t come back into the kitchen till her dad went to the pub, then they all listened to the radio. It was an old set someone had given them and very crackly, but it was wonderful to be able to listen to what was going on in the world.

Judith was tired after a hard day’s work, but she stayed up after the children had gone to bed, in case Doug was still in a bad mood when he came home. She didn’t want to face him in bed anyway, or it might lead to something else.

She couldn’t afford to have another child, not with what she was planning. Though actually, her husband hadn’t seemed to want her in that way for months. And thank goodness for small mercies.

Just after closing time the front door banged open and Doug stormed into the kitchen. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about our Kitty getting that scholarship?’ he yelled, clutching a chair back to steady himself.

‘I was going to, only you went straight out to the pub.’

‘Think I’m a fool? You didn’t tell me because you were hoping I wouldn’t find out.’

‘Yes, I was. Because I knew you’d not be pleased and proud like any other father.’

‘I’m not pleased. I won’t have a daughter of mine going to a fancy school and looking down her nose at me.’

Judith folded her arms. ‘If you’d stop getting drunk and fighting, she’d have no reason to look down her nose at you. You used to be a good worker till the booze got you. Anyway, she’s going to the grammar school, and that’s that.’

He gave her a slow, superior smile. ‘No, she isn’t. The lads at the pub were telling me what to do. I can write to the Esherwood Trust and refuse my permission. She won’t be allowed to take up the scholarship without it. The father is the one who has the say about things like that. Head of the household still means something, you know.’

Judith stared at him in shock. This was even worse than she’d feared. Was what he said correct? ‘What sort of man are you, trying to deny your daughter this chance?’

‘A working man and proud of it. I know where me and my family belong, and that’s with our own sort. So don’t try to go against me or you’ll regret it. My daughter isn’t going to a posh school. She’s going out to work as soon as the damned government will let her, then she can pay me back for what she’s cost me to bring up. Now, stop nagging and make me a cup of cocoa.’

Judith did as he’d ordered, though normally she’d have told him to make it himself, even if he did thump her. As he relaxed in front of the fire, she tackled him again. ‘Doug, please won’t you reconsider and—’

‘Please won’t you reconsider!’ he mimicked in a silly high voice. ‘You read too many books, you do, then spout fancy words at me. No, I bloody well won’t reconsider. I’m the master in this house and don’t you forget it.’

‘Some master you are, taking your bad temper out on the children. Fancy hitting a seven-year-old child like our Gillian and then spoiling Kitty’s big chance.’

Upon which he thumped his wife as well, knocking her to the floor and yelling, ‘Shut up, you nagging bitch! Shut— bloody— up! It’s a waste of time educating girls. They’ll only marry and have children. Look at what all that reading did to you. Made you a know-it-all, that’s what. You’re not fit to be a wife, you aren’t. You don’t do anything to please a man. You even dress like a dowdy old hag.’

She stayed on the floor as he stared at her. Then he cursed and went up to bed.

She spent the night on the sofa, and glad to.

She wasn’t going to spend her life being knocked around. She couldn’t do anything yet about leaving him, though, not till she had some money saved. She’d ask to work full-time at the factory from now on. Kitty could keep an eye on Gillian after school and on Saturdays.

Judith wished she had brothers and sisters, cousins, someone to turn to, but her father wasn’t much use, and the last cousin of her own age was in the Army. His wife was living down south with her family. It was really hard sometimes to manage on her own with three children.

The next day was a Saturday and Judith didn’t have to go to work, though she would have to once she started full-time.

She got ready to go shopping. Doug was still in bed and didn’t stir when she crept into the bedroom for clean clothes. He was lying on the bed, fully dressed. Lazy devil!

She made no attempt to hide the bruise on her face, as she had done in the past, and as she got out her shopping bag, the children stared at her in puzzlement.

‘Shall I fetch your make-up, Mam?’ Kitty asked.

‘No, thank you. My face is fine as it is.’

‘But it shows where Dad hit you.’

‘Then it’ll just have to show, won’t it?’

‘When I’m a man, I’ll hit him for thumping you,’ Ben muttered.

‘Thanks, love, but I don’t want you hitting anybody,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t grow up like him, Ben love, or you’ll break my heart.’

He nodded and put one arm round Gillian’s shoulders. She’d noticed before that he tried to protect his little sister whenever their father was home.

‘Why don’t you children walk over to see Grandad?’

They nodded. They knew why she was saying that. To get them out of the house.

Head held high, Judith walked a little way with the children, to the far end of the group of terraced houses people called Lower Parklea.

Unless it was raining, they always took the long way round to their grandad’s, going along the edge of Parson’s Mead. It was a small park but everyone enjoyed having some greenery and open space nearby, and they were grateful to the Eshers, who’d given the park to the town nearly a hundred years ago.

As she went into Timmins Corner Store, Judith could feel people staring at her. She intended to show the world what Doug was like from now on, so she’d come here to buy a pound of potatoes she didn’t need and would take her time about it too.

When Mrs Timmins stared at her face, Judith said, ‘Doug’s home.’

‘You usually try to cover the bruises up.’

She could feel her face going hot. Had it been that obvious? Of course it had. She’d been fooling herself. ‘Well, I’m not bothering to hide it any more. Gillian has a bad bruise on one arm, too.’

‘Eh, love. He didn’t hit that little lass as well?’

She nodded.

‘What some women have to put up with!’ Mrs Timmins paused, holding the scale of potatoes above Judith’s sacking bag. ‘My husband says your Doug’s upset about Kitty winning the scholarship. He was grumbling about it in the pub last night. You’d think he’d be proud.’

‘He says he’s not letting her go to the grammar school.’

‘Eh, that’s mean, that is.’

Judith tried to blink away her tears, but some escaped. As she fumbled in one pocket after another for her missing handkerchief, Mrs Timmins came out from behind the counter and pushed one into her hand.

‘Here. Use this, love.’

‘Thanks. I’ll wash it and give it back.’

‘No, keep it. I’ve got plenty.’ She changed the subject. ‘What are you going to do about sheltering from bombs?’

‘Doug says we can hide under the stairs.’

‘You can come into our shelter, if it gets bad round here like it has in London.’

‘Thank you. We’ve been lucky here. Most of the bombers head for Manchester.’

As Judith walked home, she felt even more determined to follow her plan. Her girls weren’t going to grow up being beaten, and her son wasn’t going into a lowly job, either. She’d do whatever she had to do and make it happen.

Doug was out when she got back and he didn’t come home till the pubs closed that night. Judith didn’t care where he’d been, as long as he wasn’t at home.

He announced his arrival by yelling, ‘What did you tell Mrs Timmins, you bitch?’

‘I didn’t tell her anything.’ Judith pointed to the bruise on her face. ‘This spoke for me. Anyway, people already know what you’re like. I haven’t been able to hide all the bruises you’ve given me over the years.’

He breathed deeply, but didn’t hit her again. ‘I’m going to bed.’ He turned to say, ‘I don’t want you in my bed any more, you know. Who’d want to screw a scraggy old bitch like you when there are other women eager to please a soldier? Yes, eager and willing. Women as aren’t so scraggy where it counts.’ He touched his chest suggestively then went upstairs.

She tried not to let her shock at this boast show. She got her blanket, put out the light and curled up on the old sofa.

But in the dark, tears flowed. She’d guessed Doug was finding his pleasure elsewhere when he stopped taking her in bed. Now it was out in the open, that settled it. When he came home, she’d sleep down here.

And as soon as the war was over, she was leaving him. They said in the papers the fighting would last a year or two more. That’d give her time to save up and make plans.

Next morning, Doug lay in bed till eleven o’clock then got up and raided the pantry. He ate the whole of the family’s meat ration and most of the bread.

‘The children will have to go without meat for days if you take it all,’ she protested. ‘Take my share but leave theirs, for pity’s sake.’

‘I’m the man of the house and I’m a soldier. I need good red meat to keep up my strength so that I can defend my country.’ He cleared his plate with a challenging expression, cramming the meat into his mouth and chewing it noisily.

Pig! she thought but kept her lips firmly pressed together. She sighed with relief as he went out. He didn’t say where he was going and she didn’t care. She’d have to beg some bones from the butcher’s and make up a broth with potatoes and barley, but it wouldn’t be the same without meat.

When Doug came home he looked round for his kitbag, which she usually left ready by the door. ‘Haven’t you packed for me yet?’

‘I don’t pack bags for people who thump me.’

He glared at her so fiercely, fists bunching, that she thought he was going to hit her again.

‘You’re no use for anything, you aren’t. Where are my clean clothes?’

‘I didn’t have time to do any washing. I was too busy comforting the children for being thumped and bathing my own face. Besides, they do the washing for you at the camp. Why should I do it?’

He raised his fist again, and she turned the other cheek towards him. ‘Go on! Black my other eye. Let everyone in the street know what you’re like.’

He didn’t take her up on this invitation, but he did give her a shove that sent her staggering across the room to sprawl on the hearthrug. ‘You’re not worth the effort. But I won’t forget to write to the Education Department about our Kitty. She’s not going to that fancy school.’

Judith got up and stood by the fireplace, wishing there were a fire to give her comfort, but it was warm enough to go without, so she was letting the coal rations pile up for the winter. Arms folded, she let him rant on as he packed his own bag. She watched in disgust as he crammed the dirty, sweaty clothes in with the few clean ones.

He’d never been this bad before. What had got into him? Was it those friends of his from the pub? Word was they were into black market stuff and kept flashing their money. Was he jealous? Or was it his new mates in the Army? She had a sudden thought: some soldiers pinched Army stuff to sell on the black market. She hoped Doug wasn’t doing that, but he certainly seemed to have enough money to buy booze.

She didn’t dare ask him, hardly dared move until she’d seen him leave the house.

She didn’t go as far as wishing him dead, but if he did get killed, she’d not grieve, she admitted to herself.

On the Monday, Judith sent word to work that she had a family emergency and would be late in. Packing and labelling boxes of uniforms and mopping the floor could be done by anyone. Before she went out, she put her sheets to soak, because they smelled of Doug’s sweat. He hadn’t washed himself properly this weekend, not once, just scrubbed his hands and face and had a shave.

She got out her best clothes. She was going to ask the vicar for help.

When she explained her dilemma about her daughter’s scholarship, Mr Saunders shook his head, looking grave.

‘The man is the head of the household, Mrs Crossley.’

‘Even if he’s a drunkard who’s spoiling his daughter’s best chance in life? Not to mention doing this to me.’ She pointed to her cheek.

‘My good woman, you mustn’t speak so harshly of your husband. Whatever his faults – and who among us is without them? – it is for the man to make such decisions and for you to respect them. When you got married, you promised to love, honour and obey your husband. Do that now and remember that the man always knows best.’

‘Doug doesn’t know best and he doesn’t care two hoots about the children.’ She paused and looked at Mr Saunders pleadingly. ‘Won’t you at least speak to him next time he comes home? For Kitty’s sake?’

‘I cannot go against God’s natural law.’

‘Then you’re as bad as he is.’

As she stormed out of the little room where the vicar saw the poorer members of his congregation, she vowed that would be the last time she came into this church, much as she enjoyed the beauty of the building and the choir’s singing.

She was so upset she couldn’t hold back the tears, so went through the back alleys to Parson’s Mead. There was a bench she could sit on near the top of the sloping piece of land. It was out of sight of the street, under some trees. It used to look across an expanse of grass to the flowerbeds in the centre, but of course the grass and flowers had all been dug up, so that people could plant vegetables for the war effort.

Old Mr Jennings was in charge of the allotments they’d created for people in nearby terraces. She hadn’t asked for one because she simply didn’t have the time to tend it. She did chat to the old man sometimes and admire his garden.

Mr Jennings had even got her and the children running out with a shovel if a passing horse left some dung behind. They had a rule in the street that if the droppings were deposited outside your house, they belonged to you. They took the dung to him in a rusty old bucket and in return he gave them vegetables now and then.

She made it to the bench without meeting anyone, thank goodness. Only when she was sitting half-hidden in the dappled shade did she let the tears spill out. It was all so unfair! She began to weep, something she didn’t do in front of the kids. As her sobs died down, she fumbled for her handkerchief but then remembered that she’d given it to Gillian this morning.

Someone said quietly, ‘Here, take this.’

For the second time that week she used a borrowed handkerchief as she struggled to control her emotions.

‘May I sit down?’

She nodded and looked at him for the first time. He was in uniform, an officer. His face looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t quite place him.

‘You’re Mrs Crossley, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in church. It was your daughter who was awarded the Esherwood Bequest this year. My father was telling me about it.’

The penny dropped. ‘You’re young Mr Esher.’

‘Not that young now.’ He held out one hand. ‘Maynard Esher at your service, Mayne to my friends. The War Office has requisitioned our house, so my family is living in the Dower House.’ He gestured towards the narrowest and highest part of Parson’s Mead. ‘Since I’m no longer allowed in the grounds of Esherwood, I walk round the Mead sometimes. I like to sit on this bench, too.’

As if she didn’t know that the War Department had taken over Esherwood and the family had had to move out. People in Lower Parklea kept an eye on all the posh folk who lived round the upper end of Parson’s Mead. ‘I’m Judith Crossley.’

He held out his hand and she shook it, conscious of how damp hers was, how red her face must be, how the bruise must show.

‘Did you fall and hurt yourself?’

She shook her head, her hand going up instinctively to cover the bruise. ‘My husband was … angry.’

‘What? He hit you?’

For a moment the bitterness spilled out. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m used to it.’

‘You shouldn’t have to get used to being beaten.’

‘He’s gone back to the Army camp now. He won’t be home for weeks.’ She felt a bit embarrassed because Mr Esher looked very smart and even in her best clothes, she didn’t. Hers were nearly threadbare. At least he hadn’t met her in her working clothes, with her headscarf and overall, ready to go to the mill.

That reminded her of Kitty. If she didn’t find some way to help her wonderful, clever daughter, Kitty would be sentenced to a similar life to hers, working hard at boring jobs for low pay. Another tear escaped.

‘Tell me what’s upsetting you. You know what they say. A trouble shared … ’

His expression was so kind, it all tumbled out: about the scholarship, how Doug was going to write a letter to the education people, forbidding his daughter to take up the Bequest.

‘I went to see the vicar, to ask his help. He says he can’t interfere between husband and wife, and I should do as Doug tells me,’ she finished. ‘I don’t know where to turn next for help.’

Mayne looked furious. ‘It’s the sort of thing Saunders would say! I only go to his church to please my mother. I can’t stand the man. He bullies his own wife, treats her like his personal slave. Hmm. I wonder … Let me think.’

She waited. Was it possible he could help them? Everyone knew his family weren’t as rich as they used to be, but maybe they still had some influence.

‘I have an idea, Mrs Crossley. Would you allow me to help?’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. I’d be very grateful.’

‘I can’t guarantee anything, mind.’

She shrugged and waited. Who could guarantee anything in this life?

‘I’m going to tell my father about this and ask him to speak to the lawyer who handles the Bequest.’

‘Why would your father care?’

‘When he hears that someone is trying to prevent an intelligent child from taking up this year’s Esherwood Bequest, my father will throw a fit. He’s a scholar and values two things in life more than anything else: documenting the history of this part of Lancashire, and providing a good education for intelligent children. Father is inordinately proud of what our family has done for the town.’

‘You must be missing living in your lovely home.’

‘We’re not the only family who’s been turned out. The government’s requisitioned a lot of big houses. We’ll probably have to sell Esherwood after the war. Or if we manage to hang on to it for a while, we’ll have to sell when my father dies.’

That surprised her. ‘Why would you sell it?’

‘Death duties have hit the family hard this century. My father lost two older brothers in the Great War, one after the other. The family has to pay death duties on Esherwood each time it changes hands.’

‘Then how can your family afford to give people the scholarships?’

‘There’s a trust fund for that and the money is not allowed to be used for anything else.’

‘I see.’ She repeated the word inordinately in her head. She’d look it up when she got home. She liked learning new words.

‘What is she like, this Kitty of yours?’ he asked.

‘Tall for her age, with dark hair and green eyes. She’ll be pretty when she grows into her face. At the moment it’s too old for her body.’

‘In other words, she looks like her mother.’

‘People say that. But she’s much cleverer than me.’

‘She had to get her brains from someone and your husband doesn’t sound very clever.’

That made Judith think. She knew she wasn’t stupid but as to clever … no one had ever suggested that before. ‘I … do like to learn. I’m so grateful for the public library. I’d better get back to work now.’

‘I meant it about helping you.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘No time like the present. Could you come and see my father this afternoon, if necessary?’

‘Oh. I’ve already asked for time off this morning. I can’t afford to lose a whole day’s pay. They dock us for each hour or part of hour away from the job, you see.’

‘What time do you finish work?’

‘Six o’clock, seven sometimes.’

‘Then if Father wants to see you, I’ll come to fetch you about seven-thirty. Would that be all right? It’ll give you time to prepare tea for your family.’

A bitter laugh escaped her. ‘There’s only bread and jam. Doug ate all the meat.’ She clapped a hand to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone that.

Mr Esher shook his head as if annoyed but didn’t comment. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Leigh Street, number seven. It’s that short street, three streets back from the park.’ She watched him stride off up the narrow path between the beds of vegetables. He was a fine-looking man, but it was his kindness she valued most. He’d made her feel better today even if he couldn’t change what Doug was doing.

But what if his father could get Kitty her chance? It was worth a try, anyway.

Of course, Mr Esher had walked off towards the posh end of Parson’s Mead. She watched till he’d disappeared from sight, admiring his tall, upright figure, then turned in the opposite direction and headed down the gentle slope towards the poorer terraces.

Here, ten narrow streets were crowded together near the longest side of Parson’s Mead, which was shaped like a pyramid with the point cut off. Only the Eshers lived at the narrow end.

She and her family didn’t live in one of the better terraces that actually overlooked the park. The rents of those were higher, far beyond their reach.

She’d struggled for years to pay the rent on this house near the park, and even Doug wanted to stay here. She and the children could walk round the corner whenever they could snatch a minute and get out into the lovely open space where the air always seemed fresher. You could even walk across Parson’s Mead at night, because it wasn’t fenced off like the big park on the other side of Rivenshaw, whose huge iron gates were locked at dusk every day. A few times, when. . .