Cradle of Thorns

by Josephine Cox

Genres: Family Life

Synopsis

Forced to flee from home, a young woman faces the unknown . . . but not alone.

Cradle of Thorns is a spell-binding tale of freedom in the face of fear from bestselling author Josephine Cox. Perfect for fans of Rosie Goodwin and Lindsey Hutchinson.

Nell Reece has never known her mother, and her father's burden of guilt about his wife has kept him cowed for years, working as a common labourer on his sister's farm. But for all her aunt's spiteful attempts to break Nell's independent spirit, she has never succeeded. But now Nell, pregnant and alone, is forced to leave behind the men in her life, believing she might never be able to return.

With little but the clothes she wears, she travels across the Bedfordshire countryside of 1890. When she encounters a scruffy urchin called Kit, a ten-year-old orphan who's lived his whole life on the streets, she takes him under her wing. The pair become devoted friends, never knowing where their journey will take them, but each aware that the time will come when there must be a reckoning.

What readers are saying about Cradle of Thorns:

'Was spellbound from beginning to end . . . excellent story of love and betrayal. Definitely worth a read. Loved every minute' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'A powerful story well written. One of the best books I have read in a long time' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'It has everything a reader could want: hatred, love, respect, humour and intrigue. The characters were so real they could have been standing beside me' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'I could not put this book down, finished it in a day. A wonderful story of family, truth and love' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

'Yet another winner by Josephine Cox. I love all her stories and characters' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: January 19, 2012

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 262

Sample

‘HIDE! QUICK! IF she finds you, she’ll flay you alive!’ He was afraid. Not for himself, but for this lovely, gentle creature who was his only child. Through these many long years of guilt and loneliness, when at times he hadn’t cared whether he lived or died, Nell had been his saviour. With her strong, beautiful spirit and smiling blue eyes, she had brought something very special into his life. No one, not even Nell herself, would ever know the awful guilt he carried inside him. A terrible guilt that haunted him day and night, and would go on doing so until the day he died.

He knew he was a coward. For many years he believed that through his weakness he had caused the pain and death of someone he loved. That had always been at the forefront of his mind. Now, though, at long last, he realised that Nell was the real victim of his wrongdoing. And she had no one to turn to but him.

Nell stood her ground, her rich blue eyes sparkling with defiance as she told him softly, ‘Let her do her worst. I’m not afraid.’

‘Oh, child! Child! You can’t know what she’s like. You can’t know how she can twist and turn a situation to her own advantage so cleverly that you don’t even know she’s doing it, until it’s too late.’ His voice broke. It was too late for him, but Nell still had a chance. She was young, and lovely, and had her whole life ahead of her. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let Lilian take that away from her.

Nell had always believed her father nurtured a secret. She believed it now, and because of what had happened she dared to ask, ‘What is it, Dad? Why are you so afraid of her? She’s hurt you, hasn’t she? Oh, I don’t mean the way she orders you about or the awful way she likes to humiliate you. It’s something else, isn’t it? Something you’ve never told me.’ Something to do with me, she thought. Though she couldn’t be certain.

He sighed, a long weary sigh that bowed his head and stooped his shoulders. He looked into those searching blue eyes. ‘Yes, I can’t deny it, she does order me around, and I’ve lost count of the times when she’s humiliated me in public and private alike. But I don’t mind. Not really.’ How could he mind when he had brought it all on himself? He had no pride now. No ambition. No future and no love to warm his heart. ‘I’m not hiding anything from you,’ he lied. ‘You already know the story, for I’ve told it to you a good many times, by way of a warning. I hoped it would make you ache to get away from here to make a life elsewhere, a good life carved out by yourself and not made by others to ensnare you. After your mam died, your Aunt Lilian asked me to stay on. Being the eldest, your grandpappy left this house and all the land and holdings to her. I was no older than you are now when all that happened. Your aunt asked me to stay and work on the land and that’s what I did.’ He paused, finishing sadly, ‘I wasn’t to know it was a lifetime sentence.’

Nell felt his despair and it became hers. ‘You’re asking me to go away,’ she reminded him. ‘How can I do that and leave you here?’

‘Because you have to!’ Taking her by the shoulders, he gently shook her. ‘It’s too late for me. I’m past my prime. I’ve no money and no prospects. Even when the old sod dies, I don’t suppose this place will come to either of us. So you see, I’m no different to a pauper, except I’ve a place to stay and food to keep the body alive.’ He smiled wrily. ‘And good, hard labour to keep my soul from shrivelling.’

Nell was not convinced. ‘But you’ll never be content, will you, Dad?’

‘Contentment has to be earned. I don’t deserve it.’ Dear God! In this poignant, agonising moment, when he looked into Nell’s pretty blue eyes, he could see it all as though it was only yesterday. It all came back, his first and only love, the child that was Nell. The dreams and hopes, all gone. All long gone. ‘You have to go,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘You have to get away from here, from her. If you don’t she’ll make your life a living hell.’ He shook her again. ‘You know that, don’t you, child? You know she’ll punish you day and night until she’s broken your spirit, just like she’s broken mine.’

‘I won’t let her.’

‘You won’t be able to stop her. Like I said, she’ll do it without you even knowing.’

Awed by the tone of her father’s voice and the seriousness of her own situation, Nell became silent. She knew he was right. This was not a happy house, and the relationship between her aunt and father had always been strained. As a child she had come to accept it, but when she grew into a woman, the questions began forming in her mind. Why did her father put up with his sister’s evil ways? Why did he never respond to any woman’s advances? There had been plenty.

Not yet forty, Don Reece was a good-looking man, God-fearing and not afraid of hard work. He was honest and kind, and well-respected by all who knew him. Yet he had no friends. He worked from dawn to dusk on his sister’s land; he made his rounds at auction, buying and selling young horses from which he bred and trained some of the finest hunters in the country. He was a shrewd businessman, and over the years he had made his sister a handsome pile of money. Yet, in spite of having nothing to call his own, he would never cheat her. He kept her accounts meticulously and not one penny ever went missing. Lilian could now lay claim to a growing fortune but it was Don who had created it, out of the sweat off his back and the dirt on his hands.

The situation had intrigued and concerned Nell. But all her questions were met with the same answer. ‘You don’t have to worry your pretty little head,’ he would say, ‘because one day I’ll stride out and forge a rich future for you and me.’

Deep in her heart, Nell knew he would never ‘stride out’ to forge them a future. Being rich didn’t bother her. What did bother her was that her father worked his fingers to the bone for a woman who treated him with less respect than she gave her daily cleaner.

‘Ssh! Listen, child.’

Nell listened, and her heart froze as Lilian’s shrill voice cut the air. ‘Where are you, you little slut? It’s no good you hiding because I’ll find you, and when I do, you’ll answer for bringing shame on this house.’

In a harsh whisper Nell’s father urged, ‘Listen to me, child. I’m in no position to help you. Whether I like it or not, she has the upper hand.’ He hated himself for being the inadequate man he was, he loathed the way he had let it happen over the years, but there was nothing he could do. Not yet. Not now. Too much time had passed. Too many memories held him at her mercy. Determined that Nell would not pay the price for his wickedness, he told her fiercely, ‘You’re to leave this place. Don’t waste another minute. I’ve prepared it all. The wagon and horse are ready and waiting in the barn. You’ll find food and a little money tucked under the seat. There are warm clothes and blankets to keep out the cold, and a deal of supplies – lantern, tools, everything to get you started. It’s all secured on the wagon, and I’ve covered it with the best tarpaulin I could find. It can rain buckets and you’ll be snug as a bug in a rug. Maybe you can find work until the bairn comes.’

Nell smiled into his sincere brown eyes. ‘The baby isn’t due for a long time yet,’ she said softly. ‘Widow Pryce said I was three months gone, so I should have a good five months’ work in me before I’m forced to give up.’

His face wreathed in a sorry smile. ‘A bairn.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘My grandchild. Oh, lass, I can’t believe you’ll soon be a mother. It only seems like yesterday when you were a bairn yourself.’ Thinking of it now was almost too much to bear. ‘I’ve not been much of a father,’ he admitted, his eyes swimming with tears, ‘but I swear to God there’ll come a day when I make it up to you.’

‘Just love me, like you’ve always loved me,’ she murmured, nestling into his arms. ’Don’t hate me. That’s all I ask.’

Gripping her by the shoulders, he held her at arm’s length. ‘Hate you?’ In the evening light, his face hardened like stone. ’You could never do anything that would make me hate you,’ he assured her. ‘But . . .’ he hesitated, his voice stiffening. ‘You’re only a child. Tell me who the father is.’

Smiling wisely, she gave her answer. ‘You’ve already asked me, and I’ve already given you my answer. I won’t give you his name. There’s no need for you to know. There is no need for anyone to know.’

‘All right,’ he conceded. ‘But if you need him, I pray he’ll be there for you.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she promised. ‘Don’t worry.’

‘Ssh!’ Blowing out the lantern, he hid with her behind the door. ‘She’s coming down the stairs. Don’t make a sound.’

Hardly daring to breathe, Nell pressed herself against the wall, listening intently as the slow, deliberate footsteps descended the cellar steps. After a moment they stopped; the light from the lantern flickered over the walls as it searched for them. ‘Don? Nell? Are you in there?’

Nell closed her eyes. She wanted to run out and face the old biddy. She wanted her father to confront his sister and tell her it was none of her business, that what he and his daughter had to decide had nothing to do with her. But she knew he wouldn’t do that. So against all her instincts, she remained perfectly still and silent until her aunt had gone away.

‘I couldn’t be certain but I didn’t think she’d come down here,’ Don chuckled. ‘She’s always been afraid of the dark. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her go all the way down into a darkened cellar. I reckon she’d rather face a dozen stampeding elephants.’ Still softly chuckling, he lit the lantern and started away.

Nell followed. Come to think of it, she had never seen her aunt go all the way into a cellar either. It was a comforting thought, to know that the old battleaxe was afraid of something.

With her father lighting the way, they went to the far end of the cellar then up the outer steps and across the moonlit yard to the barn. He showed her where the horse was already harnessed to the cart.

‘I knew you’d see it was the only way,’ he told her. ‘Now be off, and God go with you.’

They clung to each other for a moment. Then in a tearful voice she told him, ‘I love you, Dad. I promise I’ll come back one day and she won’t be able to hurt either of us any more.’

He gave no answer to that. His daughter could have no idea what was between him and her aunt, and with the help of the good Lord she never would. ‘Look after yourself,’ he said. Then he fell silent, busying himself opening the big barn doors and telling her, ‘Go out quietly. With a bit of luck she won’t even know you’re gone until morning.’

As she leaned down from the cart to give him a last kiss, Nell looked up and there she was, a shadowy figure standing by the open doors, her face smiling oddly in the moonlight as she called out, ‘Making a run for it, are you? So! Cowardice runs in the blood after all, eh?’

Don stepped forward. ‘Leave it be,’ he warned. ‘She’s getting away from here. She’s going where you can’t touch her, where you can’t make her suffer a lifetime for one mistake.’

Ignoring him, Lilian began walking forward, directly in front of the horse. ‘Get down from there, you slut!’ she yelled. Seeing how Nell glared at her, and thinking that here was a girl with a braver heart than her father, she cunningly changed her tone. ‘I’ll help you to get rid of the brat. I know how to do it, and I promise I won’t hurt you.’ Her tone hardened. ‘Afterwards, we’ll just have to make sure you never get a chance to bring shame on us again.’

She was so close Nell could see the madness in her eyes. ‘I’m leaving, and as soon as I can I’m coming back for my dad.’ Defiant as ever, Nell made to climb down from the seat. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

Suddenly she felt herself being thrust upwards, back into the seat. ‘Keep going, Nell!’ her father shouted. ‘She’ll have to get out of the way!’ Raising his arm he slapped the horse hard on the rump and sent it careering out of the barn. As he suspected, his sister jumped aside, startled but unhurt.

‘Take care of yourself,’ he called after his daughter. ‘Don’t ever come back!’

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lilian scramble up from the ground. He didn’t turn. Instead, he kept on calling out to Nell, telling her he loved her, that he would be fine; that she must never return. He went on calling, even though she was now only a distant speck in the moonlight.

When he heard the rush of air behind him, he half turned. Too late! The whip cut through the air, slicing into his back, the tip of the leather flicking across his face and making him cry out.

‘You’re a wicked, wicked man!’ she shrieked. ‘The slut may be gone, but you’re not.’ Her laughter was awful to hear. ‘If I have my way, you’ll remain here until my bones are drying in the ground.’

He thought of Nell. He thought of how she was free of this woman; Lilian could never hurt her now. And, through his pain, there shone a wonderful sense of joy.

NELL SAT IN the lane for what seemed an age. It was cold and dark, and her mind was in turmoil. Why had she run? Why didn’t she stay and fight the old battleaxe? And what about her dad? Why was he so afraid?

She didn’t even want to think it, let alone say it, but it tumbled from her lips, seeming to shock the night air: ‘Aunt Lilian has made a coward of my dad.’ But why? What had happened between her and her brother to give her such power over him?

Nell loved her father. He may be a coward where his own welfare was concerned, but he had gone out of his way to help her, even after she’d told him she was with child. He hadn’t condemned her or lectured her. When any other father might have beaten her black and blue until she revealed the name of her lover, he had consoled and advised her.

Nell would be ever grateful to him for giving her the benefit of the doubt, and for trusting her. She would never forget that, and come what may, she would keep her word and come back to this unhappy place to repay the debt she owed him and, hopefully, to root out the reason why Lilian Reece had such a hold on her younger brother.

Nell gave an involuntary shiver. Just thinking of her aunt was unnerving. Lilian Reece was a powerful, cunning woman who would stop at nothing to get her own way. She had used her younger brother to build her own fortune, eating away at his pride, sucking at his life’s blood until now he had nothing left to give.

‘The old cow would have done the same to you given half a chance,’ Nell reminded herself. The idea was horrifying.

She was distraught at leaving her father behind. ‘He could have come with me,’ she muttered, ‘instead of sending me away. We could have made a life together, the two of us.’ Her heart sank. Two little tears escaped from her eyes as she realised just how alone she was. ‘Oh, Dad, I wish you were here with me now.’

The loneliness was overwhelming. There in the deep night, on the edge of the spinney, she suddenly felt very frightened; not of the dark, or of what might be hiding in the spinney. Having been brought up in the countryside and knowing all its mysteries, Nell wasn’t frightened by them. What really frightened her was the ordeal that lay ahead – having a child all alone, not knowing whether she would find work, and then not knowing when she would have to stop. What if she became penniless, at the mercy of strangers? What if the horse should fall ill? What if the cart lost a wheel? And how would she manage if she couldn’t find work? After the baby was born, how would they live? Where would they live? So many questions and no answers.

‘Come on, Nell, stop fretting,’ she reprimanded herself. ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see. You’re strong and able, and the baby isn’t due for another six months. It’s the middle of summer, and there’s work in every field if you look for it. You’ll just have to work hard and save what you can for the time when you can’t go out and earn. Afterwards, you’ll have to search for work where they won’t mind you taking a bairn along.’

Climbing down from the cart, she walked round to where the grey cob was nuzzling at the hedge. ‘Well, Clarence, old feller,’ she said, gently stroking his head, ‘looks like all we’ve got is each other, eh? But I reckon we’ll be all right. As long as you don’t go lame, fall ill, or decide to run out on me.’

Two big brown eyes turned on her in the moonlight, as if to say, ‘Shame on you, Nell Reece! Would I ever do a thing like that?’

Winding her arms round his strong, thick neck, she hugged him close and smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re with me,’ she confessed. ‘If Dad had harnessed the old chestnut mare to the cart, I might only have got as far as the end of the lane. But it looks like he thought it through. He knew I’d have need of you, didn’t he, eh? You’re strong as an elephant, and gentle with it. The cart is in good fettle too. Yes, I reckon we’ll be fine, old feller.’

Her mind was clearer now. She had plans to make, roads to travel, and things to do. ‘At first light we’ll make our way into Blackburn town and pay a call on Molly Davidson,’ she decided, clambering back to her lofty seat. ‘But first we’d better find somewhere safe to get a good night’s sleep. Somewhere we won’t be easily seen. Just in case that old bugger Lilian decides to follow us.’

She drove the horse along by the spinney and up to where Farmer Williams’ land joined the big orchard. Here she teased the wary horse along a narrow bridleway until they came to a wide, open flatland bounded on three sides by a tall hawthorn hedge. ‘This is far enough away from prying eyes,’ she declared, jumping down from the seat. She gave a small cry as she landed awkwardly on a mound of gorse; the sharp, thorny gorse pierced her ankle-length skirt and tore at her flesh.

Stooping to examine the damage, she felt warm sticky blood against her fingertips. ‘You clumsy bugger, Nell,’ she groaned. ‘You’d better hope it doesn’t turn nasty.’ But there seemed to be no real harm done. Later she would stand in the brook and let the cool water wash over it.

‘Best see to you first,’ Nell told the horse, easing off his harness and tethering him loosely to the trunk of a tree. ‘I expect you’re as tired as I am.’ She laughed out loud when the horse raised his head and gave her a sloppy kiss.

Having grown up here as a child and trudged these fields with her dad, Nell knew this area like the inside of her own mind.

‘See that?’ She brought the horse’s attention to a series of molehills close by. In the half-light they made a dotted pattern, snaking across the field and out of sight among the overhanging branches of a great willow. ‘I’d like a guinea for every time I’ve followed that trail on my way to the Morgans’ place; every day for the past three years, up with the larks and half asleep, crossing these fields, sometimes running, sometimes walking, winter and summer, in sunshine, rain and snow.’ She smiled, shaking her head. ‘And all for a few shillings a week, and a spare ham leg now and then when Cook was feeling generous.’

She looked about her, imagining the fields in sunlight, a quiet smile on her face as she recalled the many hours of pleasure she had enjoyed here. ‘Many’s the time I’ve lingered in these fields when I should already have been up at the house, making the tea or setting the tray for Mrs Morgan’s breakfast. One time I was so late I got a beating from the housekeeper.’ She wouldn’t forget that in a hurry. ‘Oh, but this is such a beautiful place,’ she sighed, her gaze encompassing the landscape. ‘A special, secret place where you can forget all the bad things and see the wonder of nature.’ If you sat very, very still, hedgehogs, badgers, fat red squirrels, and even the tiny fieldmice would emerge and look at you with bright, beady little eyes. And there was the old oak tree silhouetted on the far side of the field, where she used to sit. Sometimes she would leave home early so she could stay longer, just to watch the creatures.

Pleasure was tinged with sadness. Now she was leaving and might never come back, never again sit under that oak tree or watch the fieldmouse wash its whiskers. She might have to find work in a town or city, and even if she did find a position in the country, she would be lucky if she ever had time to linger. She had a baby to think of now; a responsibility that would tax her to the limit in every way. ‘I’ll never forget my quiet times here,’ she murmured gratefully. ‘Nor the peace they brought me.’

In the moonlight, though, the landscape took on a different, more sinister appearance. ‘If I’m right, the brook lies in that direction,’ she mused, turning this way then that. ‘It should run down this way to my left.’ Narrowing her eyes, she stared through the darkness, ears strained as she listened for the familiar sound. Yes, there it was. The unmistakable sound of water tumbling over stone, beyond the trees, she realised with relief. Just a few steps away, in fact.

Taking the horse with her, she limped down the bank to the brook. Leaving the horse to wander, she stripped off her boots and stood, ankle deep, in the water, sighing with relief as the pain subsided. ‘You’d think you’d know better than to jump into a pile of gorse,’ she mumbled. She soaked her ankle for a moment longer, dried it on her skirt and, leaving the horse contentedly drinking, returned to the cart to see what her father had stowed for her in his old wicker fishing basket.

There were two thick, woolly blankets, and a bag of straw for a pillow. ‘Probably couldn’t steal a pillow without her knowing it,’ she murmured. Holding the blankets out in the air, she grimaced at the strong smell of fish. Phew! She’d stink from here to next week if she lay under them. But she had to laugh. ‘A good tracker dog would find me in minutes,’ she chuckled. ‘Still, Dad’s heart was in the right place.’

Nell recognised the blankets; one was off her dad’s bed, the other off hers. ‘I expect he’s left the top ones on, so the old biddy won’t notice the difference if she decides to look into the rooms,’ she reasoned. ‘Though I can’t see her demeaning herself to do that,’ she muttered bitterly. ‘She never has yet.’ Nell and her father kept their own rooms clean and tidy. So far, there had been no cause for Lilian Reece to venture into them. But she was an unpredictable creature and not to be trusted.

A further search of the basket revealed a bundle of Nell’s clothes, including her best Sunday boots, and a blue, crocheted shawl given her by Molly Davidson two years back.

There was also a lantern, a can of paraffin, some matches, two stubby candles, a length of rope, a muslin cloth containing a hunk of cheese. There was bread and a jug of cider and, tucked right down at the bottom of the basket, a small, red handkerchief containing a number of coins. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ she whispered gratefully. ‘Seems you’ve thought of everything.’

Returning the goods to the basket, she was both delighted and dismayed to find her father’s pocket watch hooked in the lid of the basket. The silver timepiece was the only legacy left him by his father. It was his pride and joy and, as far as Nell knew, he had never been parted from it.

Gazing at the precious old timepiece, Nell was sorely tempted to make her way back. ‘How can I take this from him?’ she wondered aloud. ‘It’s the only thing he has to treasure.’

Common sense prevailed. Her father wanted her to have it or he wouldn’t have put it in the basket. What’s more, if she went back now she’d be undoing everything he’d done. Her father had gone to a lot of trouble so she could escape her aunt’s clutches. He had set her free. She must show him that his child had grown into a capable woman. That was what he wanted. That was what she had to prove. She owed it to her dad, and she owed it to the child inside her.

A new determination took hold of her. ‘You owe it to yourself too, Nell Reece!’ she muttered. ‘Now, get some sleep. There are things to do tomorrow.’

Fetching the horse, she tethered it, on a long rein, to the trunk of an oak tree. ‘You can lie down if you’ve a mind,’ she told him. ‘There’s a soft grassy verge right here. Now, we’d both better get some sleep or we’ll be fit for nothing tomorrow.’

Sleep didn’t come easily. First she lay at the head of the cart, curled up like a dormouse, with her arms crossed over her head and her feet bent beneath her body. When she became too uncomfortable and the night air made her shiver, she got under the seat at the front and blocked the gap with the wicker basket.

After a full hour of twitching and turning and trembling from head to toe, she clambered down from the cart and made a nest in the hedge. The heat from the ground warmed her and soon she was sound asleep.

Clarence stood over her all night long, and when she woke, it was to the song of a bird balancing on a branch above her. ‘Good morning to you an’ all,’ she replied brightly, then moaned aloud as she stood up; she felt as if she’d been run over by a carriage and four. ‘I wasn’t cut out to sleep under hedges,’ she told Clarence, shouting and spluttering when he shook his head and covered her in slobber.

Leading Clarence to the water’s edge where he wandered at will to stretch his legs, Nell washed her hands and face in the brook. Afterwards, she returned to the cart where she emptied the basket, holding her nose as the ‘fishy’ contents spilled to the ground.

Carefully placing the lantern and other precious articles to one side, she took the blankets, clothes and pillow slips to the water’s edge where, while Clarence took great gulps of the cool, fresh water, she dipped the fishy articles time and again into the brook, washing and pounding, until she was satisfied the smell of fish was gone.

The basket, however, wouldn’t give up its odour too easily. Even after several dunkings in the brook, it still reeked of stale fish. ‘I’ll have to get rid of it,’ she decided, strapping it to the underbelly of the cart. ‘Happen Molly Davidson will swap it for something more useful.’ She chuckled. ‘For a softer pillow, I hope.’ She hung the blankets and other garments across the tail end of the cart, ‘to dry as we travel’, she told the curious horse.

But there was time enough before they needed to make tracks. The day had hardly begun, and most folk would still be abed, she thought.

Leaving Clarence grazing the bank, she ate a hunk of bread and a nibble of cheese, washed down with a drop of cider that made her dizzy. ‘I know you love your cider, Dad,’ she chuckled, ‘but I don’t reckon I’ve got the same constitution as you.’ With that she emptied away the remainder of the cider and refilled the jug with water from the brook. She would travel straighter with this inside her, she thought, raising the jug to her lips and drinking a good measure of the clear, fresh water.

A short time later, Nell was on her way.

Shackled to his harness and drawing the cart behind him as though it was part of himself, the horse lazily clopped along. The hot July sun shone down, and after the trauma of last night, the world seemed a kinder, safer place. ‘First stop Blackburn town,’ Nell called out to the horse. ‘I’ll say goodbye to Molly Davidson. Then it’s on to the open road and go wherever our fancy takes us.’

In a strange way it was almost an adventure. In another, it was a frightening journey into the unknown. For a girl of seventeen, alone, three months with child, and having just lost the only home she had ever known and a father she loved, the way ahead was a daunting prospect. For Nell, though, there was no choice. There could be no going back, the only way was forward. Forward with a brave heart, on a road that might lead anywhere. To a fate she could not even begin to imagine.

Molly davidson was horrified. ‘Yer never setting out on yer own!’ she declared. ‘Yer only a lass, an’ there are all kinds o’ thugs and rascals just waiting to pounce on the likes of you.’ She shook her head so hard her wispy brown hair stood on end. ‘I’ll not have it, my girl,’ she said. ‘You’ll stay here with me and mine. I ain’t got much but yer welcome to share, yer know that.’

‘I can’t do that, Molly, but thanks all the same.’ Nell gazed at the kindly old soul, her heart warmed by the affection she felt for this special woman.

Molly was not what you’d call a pretty thing, with her short, flyaway brown hair, floppy jowls, and a half-asleep, cherry-red face, got from drinking too much gin. But she was the salt of the earth, with a big warm heart and a door that was always open to those in need.

Molly was the proud keeper of four big sons and a small Irish husband by the name of Joe. Molly and her beloved Joe had lived on Haslingden Street all their married lives, and as the four big, boisterous children came along, the tiny house seemed to grow with them until it almost burst at the seams. Though there was never much money, the house rang with laughter, exuding a spec