Blackpool's Daughter

by Maggie Mason

Genres: Historical Fiction; Sagas

Synopsis

Best-selling author Mary Wood writing as Maggie Mason.

Previously published as "Blackpool Evacuee" in hardback only.

England, 1940. Clara is forced to flee her home as the Nazis invade the beautiful island of Guernsey, leaving her mother Julia behind.

She's scared and alone, but her spirits lift a little when she learns she's headed for Blackpool.

Her slight hopes are crushed however when she is housed with and at the mercy of a cruel shopkeeper, Miss Brandon. Clara is worked like a dog, but the warmth of some newly made Blackpool friendships will go far to save her.

Separated from her beloved daughter, Julia heads to London to try and track Clara down but she is thwarted at every turn. With no idea where her daughter is, and the trials of war keeping them far apart, will they ever be reunited?

The perfect listen for fans of Mary Wood, Kitty Neale, Val Wood and Nadine Dorries.

Release date: April 30, 2019

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 448

Sample

Julia and Clara

Fears and Memories

Julia’s stomach muscles clenched. The letter her beautiful Clara had handed her when she’d come in from school meant the end of their life together for the foreseeable future – maybe for ever! Oh God, no. No, not that.

Wanting to say no, no one was going to part her from her daughter, the fear of what the Germans would do when they invaded – for it was certain now that they would – gave her the knowledge that she must take her Clara to the quayside the next day.

The letter said that the boats would board at 9 a.m. and leave Guernsey by 11 a.m. Beneath that was a list of what they were allowed to take with them. The list of items was small. Her daughter was to leave her and go into someone else’s care, with so few of her belongings.

Pacing this one room that was their home, in the attic of Rose Cottage Boarding House, didn’t help. Neither did Clara’s tears, or her pleas.

‘Don’t make me go, Mum, please don’t let me go. Everyone says that the newspapers said that parents would have a choice. I’m almost fourteen, they can’t make me go.’

Taking her sobbing child into her arms, Julia looked towards the open window. The lovely June day was marred by the sound of bombs in the distance growing louder and louder. Wisps of smoke drifted by, carried across the Channel by the wind.

The Germans were beating the British on the beaches of France. Cherbourg, just thirty miles away, had been bombarded with shells and bombs for days now, and whereas on a clear day the port and houses could be seen, now the town was a red glow of fire, from which belched a black cloud of smoke.

Her world, as she knew it, was under threat. Not that it was a happy place for her anyway, shunned as she was by most of the islanders on account of being an unmarried mother, and having to bear seeing her daughter ostracised – but it was home.

Julia sighed as she thought of how few friends Clara had and how she suffered name-calling and the humiliation of being left out of whatever her peers were planning. She was never asked to parties, or even just to muck around on the beach. Yes, they were lonely, she and Clara. But being together made them happy and they made the most of their lot even though it wasn’t much.

This room and the leftovers from the food prepared for the guests, plus a meagre wage which just kept them afloat was given grudgingly by Ida Philips, the sour-faced woman who owned the boarding house. In exchange she expected Julia to be at her beck and call day and night – scrubbing down the kitchen at nearly midnight, and then up with the crowing of the cockerel at dawn to cook breakfast. Then there were the dishes to wash, the beds to make, the piddle pots to empty and the whole house to be cleaned.

Often, tired to the bones of her, the tears would stream down Julia’s face for no particular reason, but mostly when she thought of her parents, and how, instead of protecting her and standing by her, they had left the island soon after the tragedy that had taken her fiancé Tim and his father.

They couldn’t take the shame of having an unmarried, pregnant daughter and had gone to live in Germany where her mother had an elderly uncle. Julia had rarely heard from them since, though they had often been on her mind. Despite her mother’s coldness towards her, she missed them and worried about them, asking herself over and over how they were faring since Hitler’s uprising. Had they been imprisoned, as foreign nationals were in Britain?

Being left alone to face her grief and the fear of losing her child had devastated Julia. Her mother had given her one option. Julia must travel to Britain, go into the convent that her mother had written to, then once her child had been born and taken away, she could join them in Germany and help her mother to care for her uncle.

But Tim’s mother, Winnie, had come to the rescue. Not able to take her in at that time, after her own life had been devastated, she did all she could to save her grandchild from being taken from them. She paid for a room for Julia in this boarding house, and for the medical care she needed. After the birth, Ida Philips had offered her this job and this room and it had seemed like the answer to Julia’s prayers. Although trained as a nurse, she’d lost her job and knew that she wouldn’t be accepted back at the hospital where she’d worked.

Taking Ida’s offer had meant she could stay near to Winnie and yet not be completely reliant on her. Winnie had never known the extent of the work that Julia did. Poor Winnie. How will she take the news that Clara must go away?

Clara broke into her thoughts as if reading them. ‘What about Granny? I can’t leave Granny.’

No answer to this would come – only guilt at the course Julia knew she had to take. She had to stay strong. She had to let her daughter go to safety.

‘Mum! I said what about Granny?’

Taking a deep breath, Julia spoke the necessary lie. ‘Granny will want you to go. She will know that it is the best thing for you, darling.’

Inside, Julia knew that Winnie would crumble. But what could she do?

If it was possible for a fear of a different kind to penetrate what was already holding Julia in its grip, it did now. The worry she’d felt lately for Winnie surfaced, and tightened her throat. A tiny little lady, with hardly any meat on her bones, Winnie had lost weight lately, weight she couldn’t afford to lose, and her cheeks had become hollow. Always she insisted that she was all right and that her frequent trips to the doctor were because her arthritis was bothering her more than it should, but Julia had her own thoughts on what was truly wrong with Winnie. During her nursing days she had seen similar symptoms many times. Cancer. The dreaded, incurable disease. This was borne out by the yellow tinge of Winnie’s skin, and finding her, on several occasions, doubled up in agony with pains in her stomach.

Guiding Clara to the chair, Julia glanced at the photo in the frame that stood on the mantelpiece. Two beautiful, smiling faces looked back at her. Hers and her beloved Tim’s. Happy faces. Young and in love, and just a week away from getting married.

Rhoda, Julia’s best friend at the time, who had scarcely spoken to her since Tim’s death, had accompanied her to the dock to see Tim off on a fishing trip with his dad. Rhoda had been given a box camera for Christmas a few months before, and had taken the photo. How happy the three of them had been.

Excited about the wedding, Julia and Rhoda had made their way to Mrs Robins’s house after they’d seen Tim off. Rhoda was to be bridesmaid and they needed a final fitting of their frocks. They had loved the swirling, satin gowns – Julia’s a dazzling white and Rhoda’s a cerise pink. They’d twirled around and giggled at Mrs Robins’s antics as she’d tried to make them stand still. With a dozen pins sticking out from her mouth, Mrs Robins had only been able make grunting noises as she’d reached out for them.

The trip they’d seen Tim off on was going to be the last father and son, who shared a love of fishing, were to have before the wedding. But only the last for now, not for ever and ever. Oh, Tim … Tim.

Her legs gave way and Julia slumped on to the arm of the chair. Softly stroking Clara’s dark hair, her heart jolted as her
child looked up at her. She was so like Tim. She had his pale blue, wide eyes, his curls, his nose. And yet, others often said that Clara looked like Julia too, with her own dark curly hair. Though her eyes were brown, and her nose smaller, it was her full lips and even teeth that Clara had inherited.

The combination of herself and Tim had endowed Clara with a beauty that was emerging more and more as she approached womanhood. Though Julia was glad that, so far, Clara had shown no sign of developing in the same way as her.

Slim, with a tiny waist and hips, Julia hated how her breasts were larger than average and attracted unwanted attention. Because of them and her situation, men leered at her when they thought their wives weren’t looking, deepening the distrust and disdain that the island women had towards her.

Always she wore loose-fitting blouses with the buttons done up to her neck and flowing skirts, rather than the pencil-slim ones that were the fashion. The last thing she wanted was the kind of attention she received. It made her feel dirty, and as if men thought that she was easy with her favours. Some had even whispered to her that she must miss what she’d had with Tim, and hinted that they could step in and look after her in that way.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. She and Tim had only ever experienced one fumbling, bumbling encounter. Both had been embarrassed, and sorry it had ever happened. It had been a month before the sea had claimed Tim and his dad, luring them out by its calmness, then whipping up into a sudden storm, churning and tossing their little boat so that they were unable to fight its insurmountable power. Julia shuddered. Often she’d stood on the shore when the sea had been in this mood, imagining how terrified Tim and his dad must have been.

Her mind closed down to these thoughts and visited instead the uncomfortable moment when Clara had been conceived. She and Tim had taken a picnic to Le Portelet, a beach in the Forest area in the south of Guernsey, inaccessible by land. They’d borrowed a boat from a friend of Tim’s father who had a boathouse at Petit Bot, a shoreline from which you could swim to Le Portelet. They’d loaded the boat with their picnic basket. Le Portelet beach had been deserted when they’d arrived.

They’d spent a blissful afternoon, swimming, playing in the waves, chasing each other and rolling in the sand, enjoying the taste and feel of their near-naked bodies entwined together – until Tim’s kisses had become more demanding.

Always when this happened, one of them had been able to call a halt, or cause a distraction, but that afternoon Julia had found herself yielding to the feelings that swept over her as Tim’s hand explored her body. A yearning for more had burned inside her, and she hadn’t resisted.

Tim had hastily climbed on her, his eagerness making him clumsy. Coming to her senses, she’d tried to stop it happening. ‘No, Tim, not that.’

‘Yes, Jules. Yes. We have to.’

She’d felt an uncomfortable pain, and then Tim had moaned loudly and rolled off her. After a moment, he’d apologised. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. Oh, Jules, it all went wrong. It’ll be better than that, I promise. I was too excited, I – it came to an end too quickly. I’m sorry. I promise that next time … ’

She’d put her hands over her ears, her distress filling her. ‘There’ll not be a next time!’

‘Jules!’

‘I – I mean until we’re wed. Promise me. Promise you’ll stop groping me and everything until after we’re wed. I don’t want to … I … ’

‘Oh, Jules, I’m sorry, but you wanted … ’

‘I know, I’m not blaming you. I just wish we hadn’t.’

As the voices replayed in her head, Julia once more heard Tim’s sob. They’d clung together, each taking the blame, promising not to let it happen again, until their tears had turned to laughter as Tim had said, ‘The problem is, I need the practice, I’ve never done it before.’ And she had said, ‘I have to agree with that.’ A silly exchange, but one that had lightened the moment, and led them back to the easy companionship they’d always enjoyed.

Clara’s sobbing penetrated the place Julia had allowed herself to drift to. Slipping off the arm of the chair, she knelt in front of her daughter. ‘Oh, my darling, I – I don’t know what to say, or do. I don’t think we have any choice.’

‘We do, Mum, we do! You can say no! You can! Stop shaking your head!’

‘Clara, listen to me. The Germans are coming. They will occupy our island. We will all have to do exactly as they say. Everything will be different. You … and I … we will be forced

… Oh, I can’t bear it. Oh, Clara, they say that the German soldiers rape all the young women … yes, you too. The tales are of girls of eleven years of age being forced to have sex with them.’

Clara’s white face pulled Julia up. In her anguish she’d said more than she’d intended. No mother should first mention the sexual act in such a brutal way, let alone when it was about the forcible taking by ruthless soldiers. ‘I’m sorry, my darling. I’m sorry. I had to tell you the truth of it, I – I had to.’

‘But what about you, Mum? Will you be safe?’

Everything Julia had tried not to think about crowded in on her. No, she wouldn’t be safe. A shudder ripped through her, making her tremble, but she wouldn’t let in the truth of what might happen to her.

‘Come with me, Mum. Please. Lots of folk are leaving. Granny could come too. Please, Mum.’

The mention of Winnie tore at Julia. Winnie was the reason that she couldn’t go. Both needed her, the young and the old. But the young one, Clara, was strong. She would mourn, and weep, and be afraid and alone, but in the depth of her she had a strength she could call upon. The old one, Winnie, had been strong, but now, after years of standing by them, she needed Julia to prop her up. To see her through what Julia knew in her heart were her last months.

With these thoughts, her mind was made up. She had no choice. She had to let the young one go. She had to stay and do her duty by the old one.

The next day, feeling tired after her tears had kept her awake for most of the night, Clara clutched at the small suitcase that her granny had found for her in her attic room.

Crowds jostled her, pushing her and her mother out of the way as they scrambled for the dockside. One woman spat in their path.

‘Don’t do that. We’re as good as you are!’

‘Hush, Clara.’

‘Why, Mum? Why? Why do you stand for it?’

‘For the sake of peace, darling. And you are best to do the same. You’ll be away from them soon.’

‘I don’t want to be. I want to stay here, and I want them to accept us. We are a part of them. You and your father were born here, as were generations of our family.’ The anger that Clara had often felt, both at the rejection she and her mother suffered and the acceptance of it that her mother displayed, came to the fore. A scream formed in her that she wanted to let loose, telling them all that none of them were any better than her or her mother. But the scream caught in her throat and she had to swallow hard so as not to burst into tears.

Clinging onto her mother’s hand as if she was a small child again, Clara clamped her lips together. Ahead of them, her classmates were filing onto a boat that didn’t look big enough to take them all. Another boat was moored alongside. Clara could see the young children and their mothers boarding this one. Maybe there won’t be any room on either for me. With this thought, she felt glad of those in the crowd who deliberately prevented her and her mother from making progress towards the quayside and a hope entered her, compounded by the sound of a bell ringing out from the first boat and a voice shouting, ‘No more. Get back. Another boat will come tomorrow.’

Clara smiled and moved closer to her mother as she watched a sailor unwind the anchor before jumping aboard. The boat began to slowly manoeuvre out of the dock to shouts and yells of, ‘Stop, take one more, please!’ And others declaring that they would pay, whatever it took.

As Clara and her mother walked back towards home, the island that had been familiar in every way took on the mantle of a strange, unwelcome place. Abandoned cars, some with their doors still open and their engines running, littered the roads leading to the dock. Dogs and cats roamed around, looking lost, hungry and tired. Some of the cottages had wide open doors. Bunches of keys dangled from keyholes.

Only the noise of those returning, not having secured a place on the boats, stopped Clara’s beloved Guernsey from seeming to be a deserted island.

‘Shall we go and see Granny?’

‘No. That’s not a good idea, Clara. We can’t put her through the pain of saying goodbye to you again. Let her think that you have gone. That way, she can begin to get used to the idea.’

Will she ever do that? Will Granny forget me and carry on as if I never existed? The lump in her throat finally broke. Tears wet her cheeks. She’d heard folk speak of a broken heart – now Clara felt certain that she knew how that felt. Because her heart hurt. Fear engulfed her, but it didn’t take precedence over the pain of loss she felt.

Her world was coming to an end. She didn’t know how long it would take to happen, but she knew that nothing would be the same ever again from the moment there was a space on a boat that would take her far away.

Feeling her mother’s arm tighten around her gave her no comfort. There was no comfort to be had. Tomorrow, or the next day, everything would be lost.

Julia

The Sorrow of Parting

Julia clung on to Clara the next morning, oblivious to the rain soaking her and the wind stinging her calves and whipping her shawl from around her shoulders.

Clara’s sobs shook her body. Julia had no words that could help them.

Without warning, someone jerked them apart. ‘Come on. Get on with it. You’re lucky that there’s one place left on the boat for you. Not that you deserve it.’

Julia’s heart stung to hear this. She wanted to rip the woman’s hair out strand by strand, and scream at her, but she just called out to Clara: ‘Write, darling. Write as soon as you’re settled. Let me have your address.’

Clara looked back at her, pain and fear painted on her face.

‘It’ll be all right, darling. You’ll be back, or I’ll come for you, I promise.’

The woman shoved Clara forward. ‘Hurry up, will you?’

It was too much for Julia. Her agony clouded her judgement. She rushed forward. ‘Can’t you be civil to her? Can’t you see how terrified she is? Please show her some kindness. Please!’

‘Scum don’t deserve kindness. Now get off with you. I thought you’d be relieved. Everyone knows where the Germans will get their favours. Well, you won’t have anything stopping you with this one out of your way, will you, harlot?’

The breath caught in Julia’s lungs. Her hand came up, but before she could strike out a strong pair of arms grasped her. ‘None of that. Showing your true colours, eh? And in front of your child as she has to face the wide world. Shame on you.’

The stinking breath of Constable Ferrington wafted into Julia’s open mouth as she gasped from the pain of his overzealous restraint. ‘Let me go. Let me say goodbye to my daughter. Clara! Clara!’

But it was too late. Clara was lost in the midst of the pushing crowd, all jostling for position, hoping for a place on the boat.

Julia’s body folded, only to jolt back upright as the shock of the Constable’s hand squeezing her breast brought her wits back to her. ‘Don’t!’ The word was a snarl rather than a plea.

‘Getting choosy, are we? You’d do well to keep in with the likes of me. I could protect you and give you pleasure while I’m doing so.’

The words were whispered. His face so close that moisture from his mouth dampened her ear. Repulsion trembled through her. ‘Let me go. I’ll never go with you, never! I’d prefer to be raped by a German soldier than lie with you!’

‘Ah, that’s your thinking, is it? Collaboration? Well, I’ll be watching your every move, and if I get whiff of it, I’ll be the one to personally tar and feather you, girl.’

‘That’s not what I meant. Please let me go. If you’ve an ounce of decency, you’d let me look out to sea and wave to my daughter.’

‘So you can show that you care? Ha, I don’t think so. You won’t play ball with me, so I’m going to show you how it will be if you step out of line, my girl. I’m arresting you for assault.’

‘But, I never—’

‘Oh yes, you did. I witnessed it with my own eyes. You lifted your hand to Mrs Lister, with intent on striking her. And you kicked my shin when I tried to apprehend you – offences that will get you three months behind bars.’

Horror clung to every fibre of Julia’s being. Her lips moved but no words came out. The agony of the policeman’s hold increased as he hauled her away. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the disappearing boat, carrying her Clara away from her. Despair crowded in on her.

Thrown roughly into a cell, Julia sat on the stone slab in a daze. The stench made her heave. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard, choking on the vile-tasting acid. How did this happen? How did I come to be here? And my Clara gone … gone. Oh, dear God, help me.

A scuttling sound had her heart jumping. Looking down she saw a rat, as big as a kitten, coming towards her feet. Pulling them up underneath her, she cringed away, pressing her body into the mildew-ridden brick wall. Water dripped onto her head, but she dared not move. Cold seeped into her, making her shiver. Warm salty tears trickled into the corner of her mouth. Never had she felt so wretched.

Hours later a key clanked in the lock, waking Julia from a slumber she hadn’t been aware of falling into. Voices drifted to her as if disembodied and coming from a nothing space.

‘I tell you, I can’t release her. She is a criminal awaiting a court appearance tomorrow.’

‘Well, I am disputing your right to hold my client overnight. I’ve asked you, and you have no evidence, other than your word, and that has been brought into question many times, when you have been found to be vindictive. I believe you are being so on this occasion.’

‘Mrs Lister is a witness—’

‘Oh, I don’t think so. She won’t stand up for you. As much as she is bigoted against Miss Portman, when I sought her out, she had no intention of helping you in this prosecution. Have you forgotten that you prosecuted her son for relieving himself in a public place, when she begged you to let him off with a warning?’

There was a silence. Julia held her breath. She knew the voice of the man challenging the constable. Mr Vale was the local solicitor and had a distinctive, high pitch to his tone. But why was he here defending her? Winnie! Dear Winnie. Of course. Tim’s father had been a partner of Mr Vale’s. Tim himself had been training with them after he had come back to the island from university in London.

Winnie would have heard that Julia had been arrested, and would have sent for Mr Vale’s help.

The cell door swung open. ‘Get yourself out of here. The charges against you have been dropped. But I meant what I said, I’ll be watching your every move, once the Germans get here. You won’t be able to step within an inch of a soldier before I have you for collaboration.’

‘I doubt that, Ferrington. I doubt you will even have a job, as the Germans will rule everything, including law and order. I’d make yourself scarce, if I were you. There’s a few on the island who bear a grudge against you. And some of them would take great delight in getting you into hot water with the invaders.’

Even in the dim light, Julia saw the constable’s face drain of colour.

‘Come along, Julia, I’m to deliver you to Winnie. She is waiting for you.’

Julia followed Mr Vale, leaving a stunned constable standing with his mouth slack as she spoke up. ‘And I will be putting in a complaint about you, for one. You fondled me when you held me restrained.’ The words came out in a calm way that she didn’t feel. They surprised her as much as they did the two men.

Mr Vale coughed. ‘Is that right? Well, we’ll discuss that further. You’ll be hearing from me in due course, Ferrington.’

Outside, Mr Vale took Julia’s arm and leaned towards her. ‘Even if he did, my dear, I don’t see such a charge standing, so maybe you are best to forget it.’

Infuriated, Julia didn’t reply. She knew how it was. Women didn’t stand a chance in such a case. It would either be considered that it was she who had tempted the man beyond endurance, or in her case, that she deserved all she got.

They drove in silence, but for Julia it wasn’t a comfortable one. The pressure that Mr Vale had put on her arm had been more familiar than guiding, and his words had been spoken in a tone, and in such close proximity, that suggested intimacy rather than legal advice.

This behaviour was repeated when they reached Winnie’s. Mr Vale once more leaned towards her. ‘I’d like you to know that I have always felt sorry for you, and wanted to protect you in some way, but my standing prevented me from doing so. Such a pity that you and Tim didn’t wait until your wedding. I thought more of Tim than to take you down before the nuptials. And in not waiting, you saddled yourself, and made yourself untouchable. A great pity.’

‘I didn’t saddle myself, Mr Vale. Clara has been my world. I wouldn’t have been without her. She is a part of Tim that I still have. I wouldn’t have changed anything.’

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t, my dear, but, you know, if things had been different I would have asked for your hand after Tim died. I have always had feelings for you.’

Something snapped in Julia. ‘Feelings? You’ve shunned me more than most. You’d cross the street rather than look at me. That doesn’t speak of someone with feelings!’

Again, he coughed. ‘I had no choice, but I do now. I’m leaving the island. I can’t bear to stay. I’d like you to leave too, and meet up with me in London where no one knows about you.’

‘What! Can you hear yourself? You are insulting me with every word you utter. I wouldn’t go with you if you were the last man alive! I thank you for getting me out of custody and getting the charges against me dropped, but I’m getting out of the car now, and I don’t care if I never see you again.’

His hand curled around her arm. ‘Don’t be stupid. I’m offering you something you would never get in a lifetime of trying. I want you, Julia. It’s an ache in me that I’ve lived with for a long time. I want you, and I’m going to have you.’

His words shocked Julia to the core. ‘Let go of me.’

The thought of him touching her repulsed her. A portly man, he was a good fifteen years older than her thirty-five years, and smarmy. Yes, that’s what she’d term him now. Having always thought of him as an upstanding gentleman, and accepting his shunning of her, he had now diminished in her eyes.

Her skin crawled as she saw the depth of his lust in his misted eyes. ‘Please let me go, Mr Vale. What you ask can never happen.’

His grip tightened. ‘It must, and it will.’ His mouth was wet at the corners, and his breath came in heavy gasping movements.

Julia’s stomach churned. ‘Let me go, or I’ll scream.’

His hand loosened its grip on her, but didn’t entirely let go. Instead he slid it downwards until it was in her lap. His fingers curled and dug into her groin. Rigid now with fear and repulsion, Julia couldn’t speak or try to stop his progress. His hand began to move, rubbing her between her legs. ‘There, you like that, don’t you?’

‘No! Let me out of here! Please, please stop.’ The door handle didn’t yield to her desperate attempts to grapple with it. She looked up and down the deserted street. It seemed every living soul had abandoned the island. She was alone. Alone and trapped in this car. If she moved, Mr Vale would have more of an advantage over her.

He was leaning closer to her now. She could feel his gasping breath on her cheek and taste the faint trace of pipe tobacco that emanated from him. Her mouth dried.

It was when she felt his hand on her bare thigh and his lips nuzzling her breast through her blouse that she reacted, rather than pleaded. Grabbing his thick blond hair, she yanked his head backwards. ‘Stop! Leave me alone. How dare you touch me? Let me out of the car, you beast!’

Shock had him staring at her as if she was an alien being. ‘I

… I’m sorry. Forgive me. I … I got carried away. I shouldn’t have. Please forgive me. I love you, Julia. I want you to be my wife. Now that you are rid of your brat, there is nothing stopping us. Like I say, we can go where no one knows about you, I’ll—’

‘Shut up! Shut up! Stop talking. Let me out of here. Let me out!’

Looking around once more, Julia was relieved to see Winnie’s curtain pulled aside and Winnie glaring out.

‘Winnie’s there, she can see you. Let me out now and I won’t say a word about what you have done. But if you don’t, I’ll tell everyone.’

Mr Vale shot back in his seat. For a moment he did nothing. Then he calmly leaned over her. ‘You could have got out at any time, harlot! It was you who locked the car door with your elbow. I cannot lock it from this side. I thought by doing so you were giving me an invitation. I should keep your mouth shut, if I were you. You think you’ve had it uncomfortable on this island until now – well, that’s nothing to what you’ll experience if you breathe a word. And one other thing. Now that I have come out from under the spell you sought to put me under with your sexual advances, I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole. Get out! Get out!’

On legs that didn’t feel as though they would hold her, Julia staggered up the drive to the house. Winnie opened the door. ‘Oh, Julia, dear girl. What was happening? What was Vale doing?’

Afraid that she would not be believed, Julia lied. ‘He was just comforting me,