Dream a Little Dream

by Joan Jonker

Genres: Family Life; Siblings; Friendship; World War II; Sagas

Synopsis

An ambitious family learns that the grass isn't always greener on the other side. Joan Jonker leaves behind Liverpool's terraces for a wealthy family home in Dream a Little Dream - a charming saga of new beginnings and old ties. Perfect for fans of Katie Flynn and Cathy Sharp. Edie Dennison was a sweet young girl when she first met her husband Robert living in the same street of two-up two-down houses in Seaforth. Now, thanks to the success of Robert's business, they've gone up in the world. When Robert realises that his wife has forgotten her roots, and is encouraging their children to have ideas above their station, he decides to take his two youngest children, Nigel and Abbie, back to Seaforth, to meet their old friends and the grandparents they never knew they had. Soon they discover a whole new world of happiness is waiting for them... What readers are saying about Dream a Little Dream : 'The observation of social niceties is absolutely spot-on, with all the humour and warmth coming from a clash between class pretension and the realities of life. Bob and Edie are brilliantly drawn, and this one will acquire new readers for the talented Jonker' 'Once again another superb saga by the best author in the world! I have read all Joan's books ...This book is the best yet!'

Release date: February 2, 2012

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 516

Sample

‘Mother, I don’t want to go to a finishing school!’ Abbie Dennison and her mother faced each other across the wide, highly polished mahogany table. ‘I’d like to take a six-month course at a commercial college.’

Edwina Dennison’s nostrils flared. She was a tall, thick-set woman with mousy-coloured hair which was swept back severely from her face and curled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She had a dull complexion, hard hazel eyes and thin lips that were seldom stretched into a smile. And her long thin nose added to her ever-present haughty expression. ‘A commercial college? And what, pray, do you expect to learn there that would equip you for a life befitting our family’s standing in the community?’

‘I could learn shorthand and typing, book-keeping and—’

‘We’ll hear no more of this nonsense.’ Edwina cut short her daughter’s words. With her hands resting on top of one of the eight beautifully carved dining chairs which stood in uniformity around the table, she stared at her daughter. ‘You’ll continue to be educated as your father and I wish. You show little sign of ambition and left to your own devices would probably be quite happy serving behind a shop counter. A year at a finishing school will teach you deportment, etiquette and the art of conversation.’

‘But Mother, that is not what I want!’

‘Abigail, do not answer me back. You are a very ungrateful girl who does not appreciate the finer things in life that being a member of this family has given you. Now we’ll hear no more of this nonsense and you will go to your room and reflect on how lucky you are.’

Unnoticed by his wife and daughter, Robert Dennison was sitting in his favourite armchair which was set in the bay window and looked out on to the large garden at the back of the ten-roomed house. It was the place he found most peaceful to read his newspaper, away from his wife’s incessant chattering. Had his youngest daughter not been the victim of her acid tongue, he would probably not have made his presence known. As it was, he swivelled the chair around to face them. ‘Stay where you are, Abbie, please. I think there should be some discussion on what is, after all, your life. It is only right that your wishes are taken into account.’

‘Robert, I thought we agreed the children’s education should be left to me.’ Edwina was not best pleased. ‘I am their mother and know what’s best for them.’

Her husband sighed. Usually he gave into his wife to keep the peace, but not this time. ‘Abbie, will you go to your room while your mother and I discuss this? And don’t look so downhearted, it’s not the end of the world.’

‘All right, Dad.’ The girl smiled at him before leaving the room. If it wasn’t for him, she would have a very miserable home life.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Edwina started. ‘She’s far too old to be calling you “Dad”, and it’s so working class. Why can’t she call you “Father”, as Victoria and Nigel do? And why is she so awkward and ungrateful? Any normal girl would be delighted at the chance of going to finishing school, but not Abigail, oh dear, no! Look what it did for Victoria. She moves with ease in all the right circles and her friends are from some of the richest families in Liverpool.’

‘Oh, Victoria moves with ease in all the right circles, I’ll grant you that. But that is all she can do. She doesn’t have a job, she wouldn’t know how to dust or wash dishes, and she can’t even make a cup of tea. That is what finishing school did for Victoria. And what did Nigel’s expensive education do for him? Nobody will ever employ him because he refuses to work or get his hands dirty. I’ve tried to interest him in the firm’s business because the idea was that he would take over when I retire. But when I make him come down to the office with me, he shows no interest whatsoever and just gets under everyone’s feet. The youngest clerk has got more nous than he has.’

Edwina’s nostrils were white and her head quivering with anger. ‘How can you talk about your own children like that? Victoria is a daughter to be proud of. She’s very pretty, always well-groomed and can converse with anyone. And Nigel is not a strong boy, never has been. He’s only twenty years of age, and I’m sure that when the time comes for him to take charge of the business, he’ll be well up to the task.’

Robert gazed at his wife and wondered how she could forget her roots. She’d been a lively, pretty girl when he started courting her. They lived in the same street of two-up, two-down houses, and she was called Edie then. Her family, like all the others in the street, had to struggle to make ends meet. But looking at her now no one would believe she’d worked in a factory until they’d married. And she made sure none of her snooty, middle-class friends ever found out.

Robert ran a hand across his forehead. He’d been working at the office all day and his head was filled with figures. That’s why he’d come to sit in his favourite chair in the dining room, so he could read his paper undisturbed. Now he could feel a headache building up.

‘I am not going to argue with you,’ he told his wife. ‘I shall not even raise my voice. That is something I should have done years ago. But because I was so busy building up the business to give you and the children a decent life, I allowed you free rein. That was the worst thing I could have done. It is too late to do much about Victoria and Nigel, you’ve spoiled them since I started earning decent money. But it’s not too late for me to show some interest in my youngest daughter, and this I intend to do. By asking to go to commercial college, Abbie’s shown she wants to do more with her life than swan around all day doing nothing, and I say she should be allowed to do as she wishes.’

Edwina was shocked. Her husband had never interfered before, nor spoken to her in such a challenging tone. ‘And I say she should go to a finishing school,’ she argued.

‘The subject is closed, Edwina, so please let it drop.’ How it stuck in his throat to call her by that name. ‘And I do not want you discussing it with Abbie. I will tell her when we’re having our meal, and I would advise you not to go against my wishes. You have a good life, one you could only have dreamt about in the old days. A house in Mossley Hill, plenty of money to entertain and buy the most expensive clothes, a live-in housekeeper, a daily cleaning woman and a gardener. Not bad for someone brought up in a two-up, two-down in Seaforth.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting you only lived a few doors away?’

‘I have never denied my roots, and never would. I slogged my guts out, working to make something of myself. Missed going down to the pub with my mates for a pint, cut my smokes down to five Woodbines a day, anything to save a few coppers. Even when we got wed I used to deny myself things, but I always made sure you never went without. And I sometimes wonder if it was all worth it. You see, I was far happier when I was younger, even though my mother and father were as poor as church-mice. What we lacked in the way of food and clothes, they made up for with lots of laughter and love. I used to call them me mam and dad, as all the kids did, yourself included, and I still think the words have a ring of love about them, not as cold as Mother and Father.’

Robert sighed, asking himself why he bothered. Not once while he was talking was there a flicker to show his wife remembered those days. He shouldn’t have expected any, knowing she’d spent the last seventeen years deliberately putting them out of her mind. She’d worked hard on losing her Liverpool accent, and the richer they became, the more of a snob she became. And like a fool, he’d allowed her to change him, as well. At least on the surface she had. She’d be horrified if she knew he often frequented a small local pub near his office. And if she heard him in conversation with some of the workmen in the pub, sipping a pint of bitter and conversing so easily in the local dialect, she’d have one of the fainting fits she seemed able to bring about at will, and which confined her to bed for the day. But Robert had noticed these dizzy spells never occurred on a day she was entertaining some of her snooty friends. She was all sweetness and light then, playing the perfect hostess as if she had never known any other kind of life.

‘I would very much like to go back to reading my paper now,’ he said firmly, ‘if you would kindly leave me alone to do so.’

As he swivelled his chair back towards the view of the garden, Robert didn’t need to be told his wife was blazing with anger. He could hear it in the swish of her long black skirt, and the harsh closing of the door. Years ago, this would have upset him, and he’d have halted the argument with a kiss. But those days were long gone. There was no love or passion in their marriage now, it had been slowly killed by her aloofness. They shared the same bed because of the children, but they hadn’t lived as man and wife since Abbie was born, seventeen years ago. Although Edwina never spoke the words, she made it clear that she had done her duty by giving him three children and found the act of lovemaking sordid.

Robert opened the newspaper and sought the article he’d been reading before the interruption, but he could no longer interest himself in it and let the paper fall to his lap. Resting his head on one of the wings of the maroon velvet chair, he closed his eyes and let his mind take him back in time. It was 1901, he was fourteen and had left school. Jobs weren’t easy to come by, and he thought himself lucky to be taken on by a man who had a small furniture-removal business. The wages were low, only two bob a week, but his mother had said it was better than nothing and would tide him over while he looked for something that paid better. But Bob, as he was called then, loved the work because he was able to sit on the long seat at the front of the cart and watch the horse clip-clopping along. And after a few months, his boss, Will Lathom, let him take the reins and it was one of the most exciting days of his life. He became attached to Mr Lathom and Blackie, the horse, and he felt proud sitting on a cart that had high sides and bore the name of William Lathom – Furniture Removals. And he never did look for another job. He was a big lad for his age and capable of handling heavy furniture with ease, so they were able to take on more jobs and soon he was given a shilling a week rise in his pay. He’d been so proud that day, he remembered, when he handed his mother his wages. And the sixpence he got back as pocket-money made him feel like a millionaire.

He was so lost in thought, Robert didn’t hear the discreet cough of the housekeeper and was startled when she appeared in front of him. ‘I thought yer might like a cup of tea, Mr Robert.’ She handed him a delicate china cup and saucer. ‘A little milk and two sugars, just as yer like it.’

‘Thank you, Agnes, that’s very thoughtful of you.’

‘Dinner will be in half an hour, sir.’

He smiled up at the woman who had been their live-in housekeeper for the last ten years. She was a good, hard worker, her cooking renowned, and the envy of all their friends. But her greatest gift, Robert thought, was that she smiled a lot and was very down to earth. She knew her place, but wasn’t afraid to speak her mind if she thought she was right. She had been known to swear like a trooper on occasion, but housekeepers of her calibre were hard to come by, so even Edwina handled Agnes Weatherby with care.

‘I’ll drink my tea and then change for dinner.’ Robert pursed his lips. ‘On second thoughts, Agnes, I might not get changed for dinner tonight.’

‘If yer don’t feel like it, Mr Robert, then don’t get changed.’ The housekeeper walked towards the door, muttering, ‘Waste of bleedin’ time anyway, if yer ask me.’

Robert swallowed a mouthful of tea before setting the cup back in the saucer. Then he chuckled and called after her, ‘I agree, Agnes, it is a waste of bleedin’ time.’

She turned with her hand on the door knob and a look of innocence on her chubby face. ‘I never said no such thing, Mr Robert, yer must be hearing things.’ Then she straightened the white cap on her head and smoothed her apron down over her ample bosom and tummy. ‘It’s either that, or I was talking to meself.’ She gave him a broad wink then disappeared through the door to walk down the wide, expensively carpeted hall, to her domain. Nobody entered her kitchen without first knocking. Once there, she again addressed herself. ‘Him and Miss Abbie are the only two sane people in the bleedin’ house! The other three are away for slates and haven’t a clue what life’s all about. Lazy buggers, if yer ask me, more money than sense.’

Robert finished his tea and was placing the saucer on a mahogany side table when his eyes lit on the solid crystal ashtray. His wife disapproved of smoking and wrinkled her nose at the smell of tobacco, so for the sake of peace he used his study as a smoke room. But tonight he was going to change the rules. He would smoke his cigar here, and instead of changing for dinner, he would spend the time reflecting on the past. So when his cigar had caught, he puffed away contentedly and allowed his mind to go back in time, to when he was eighteen. There was one day which would always stand out in his mind, because, although he wasn’t to know it then, it was the day that was to change his life.

Will Lathom had been complaining about feeling off-colour for some weeks, but had struggled to carry on working because he had plenty of orders and didn’t want to let people down. But one morning when Robert called for him, Mrs Lathom invited him in and said her husband was ill in bed, and he’d asked her to say he wanted a word with Robert. It was plain to see the man was in a bad state, with a racking cough and high temperature. And worrying about the four removal jobs they had for that day certainly wasn’t helping. The people would have all their belongings packed ready to move, and if he let them down, word would get around like wildfire that he wasn’t reliable and his reputation would suffer.

Robert had stood at the bottom of the bed and tried to calm the man down. He said he knew the job inside out, and if he had help, he knew he could manage. There was a lad in his street who would be glad of a day’s work, and if Will agreed, he’d pick the lad up and get started. That first day had been a nightmare. The young lad, Jeff, was willing enough, but wasn’t used to handling furniture or breakables, and Robert needed eyes in the back of his head, making sure nothing was scratched or broken. But he was determined to show he could manage the round until Mr Lathom was better, so he and young Jeff ran themselves ragged in the process. And when he knocked at the Lathoms’ house that night, an hour later than the usual time for finishing, he was almost dead on his feet. He passed over two pounds five shillings and sixpence that night, just for one day’s work. It had been a busy day, granted, but even so Mr Lathom must be earning at least ten pounds a week. And that was after he’d paid Robert’s wages and the bloke a few streets away where the horse and cart were stabled. So as he walked home that night, bone weary, Robert told himself that although the day had been hard, he’d learned something. That it was a mug’s game to work for someone if you had the wherewithal to start your own business. It was a pipe dream, he’d never have the money to do that, but dreams didn’t cost anything.

Will Lathom’s health deteriorated and he was never able to return to work. So one day, a month after Robert had started to run the business on his own, the older man patted the side of his bed and told him to sit down. Then, with a catch in his voice, he said the doctor didn’t give him much hope, so he wanted to sort his affairs out. He needed to make sure his wife and kids would be all right, so he had a proposition to put to Robert. He had a bit of money put by, but he wanted to make sure his family had enough to keep the wolf from the door. So he asked if they could continue with the present arrangement for another six months, giving him time to build on his savings. Then at the end of that time he’d be prepared to sell the business to Robert for the sum of five pounds. That included the business and the horse and cart. And it would all be done legally, of course, drawn up by a Commissioner for Oaths.

The emotions that ran through the young man’s mind that day would stay forever in his memory. Sadness that Mr Lathom was dying, because he’d grown really fond of the man. Then excitement that in six months he’d be his own boss. But after the initial sensation, came reality. He’d never be able to save five pounds in six months because he didn’t have that much to himself once he paid his mam his keep. And he couldn’t, or wouldn’t leave her without because she was struggling as it was and would never manage on the pittance his dad earned.

He’d racked his brains on the walk home that night, but when he was putting the key in the door, he still hadn’t found a solution. It would take a miracle, and who had ever heard of a miracle happening in Seaforth? Best to forget about it. He should have known it was too good to be true.

‘Robert, what are you thinking of?’ Edwina stood at the side of his chair, a frown on her face. ‘Dinner is ready and you haven’t even changed yet.’

‘I decided not to bother changing.’ He looked at her through narrowed eyes, remembering her as she was all those years ago, and now seeing what she had become. ‘I’ve spent the time reminiscing about the old days, instead. I’d just got to the part where Will Lathom had offered to sell me his business for five pound, and I couldn’t see a way clear to raising the money. D’you remember Will Lathom, Edie? I used to work for him before I started going out with you.’

Edwina flinched at his use of her old name. ‘You would have been better employed making yourself respectable to sit down to a meal. What good does it do to hark back to the old days?’

‘Oh, I often do it. And just lately I’ve been wondering if life wouldn’t have been better if my mother hadn’t struggled to help me raise that five pound. In gaining the wealth that we now have, we lost something that is far more important. We lost the ability to laugh and love. Sadly, there isn’t much of either in this house. Our old neighbours in Seaforth would be green with envy if they saw us now, but I think they are the lucky ones. At forty-six I’m still quite a young man, with the needs of a young man. But I don’t have the kind of loving wife who would find pleasure in satisfying those needs.’

Edwina heard the voices of her eldest daughter and son in the hall, and lifted a hand to silence her husband. What was the man thinking about, he was quite mad! ‘The children are here, shall we take our seats at the table?’ She glanced nervously at him as he took his seat at the top of the table. Surely he wouldn’t bring up the bad old days and embarrass her? The children had no recollection of being poor because by the time Victoria was born, and Nigel two years later, they were living in a six-roomed house and were quite comfortably off. The horse and cart had long gone, and Robert had two motorised removal vans and employed four men.

‘Good evening, Father.’ Victoria smiled across the table. She was a very attractive girl who had inherited her mother’s colouring, with mousy hair and hazel eyes. But she had a clear complexion and a fine set of white teeth. She had very good taste in clothes and chose those which showed off her slender figure and shapely legs to advantage. ‘Have you been naughty? I do believe I smell cigar smoke.’

‘Your father’s had a busy day and needed to relax.’ Edwina spoke before her husband could answer. It was to act as a warning to her daughter and also, hopefully, to soothe Robert. ‘He spent an hour in his favourite chair and I’m sure he feels much better.’

‘You work too hard, Father.’ Nigel had the same mousy hair as his sister, but there the resemblance ended. He was pale of face, with watery hazel eyes and a weak chin. Everything about him was effeminate. His mannerisms, mincing walk and high-pitched voice. ‘You should leave the work to those you employ. That’s what you pay them for.’ He giggled like a girl, thinking what he was about to say was funny. ‘After all, what’s the point of keeping a dog and barking yourself, eh, what?’

Robert was saved from answering when Abbie entered the room. She came in smiling, like a breath of fresh air. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t hear the bell.’

‘That is no excuse,’ Edwina said. ‘You have a clock in your room and you know we dine at seven, not ten past.’

‘Are you going to tell Agnes off, too?’ Robert asked. ‘As you remarked, it’s ten past seven and no dinner on the table. Oh dear, oh dear!’

‘Is somebody taking my name in vain?’ Agnes pushed open the door with her hip, a huge soup tureen in her hands. While the housekeeper had told Robert not to change if he didn’t feel like it, she had herself changed into a smart black dress with a white lace pinny tied around her ample waist. The white lace headpiece which Edwina insisted she wore when serving dinner had slipped sideways making her look slightly tipsy, and brought sly grins to the faces of Victoria and Nigel. Luckily Agnes didn’t see them, or she wouldn’t have thought twice about telling them off. ‘I’m all to pot, tonight, so would one of yer serve the soup while I go and make sure the potatoes don’t burn?’

‘Really!’ Edwina tutted. ‘You do seem to be disorganised tonight, Agnes.’

The tureen now safely in the middle of the table, Agnes turned on her mistress. ‘If yer didn’t insist on me getting meself all dolled up like a dog’s dinner, I wouldn’t have had to leave the dinner to cook itself.’ She looked pretty formidable with her hands on her hips and an ‘I dare you’ expression on her chubby face. ‘I’ve only got one pair of bleedin’ hands, so it’s up to you. Serve the soup yerself or take a chance on yer dinner being burned.’

‘I’ll serve the soup, Agnes.’ Abbie scraped her chair back. She’d do anything for this woman who showed her more love than her mother did. Whose arms she’d run to when she was little and had fallen over and hurt herself. It was always the housekeeper who kissed her wounds better. And it was still those arms she ran to when anything went wrong or she thought she was being treated unfairly. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Thank yer, Miss.’ With a withering look, the housekeeper left the room. ‘Lazy buggers,’ she chunnered on her way back to the kitchen. ‘Won’t even get off their backsides to feed themselves. If it wasn’t for the master and Miss Abbie, I’d have told them where to put their bleedin’ job and I’d be packing me bags right now.’

‘Really, Mother, she goes too far,’ Victoria said. ‘You need to have words with her so she knows her place.’

‘I would, darling, but she flies off the handle so quickly. And if she took it into her head to leave, we’d never get another housekeeper like her. There isn’t one of my friends who wouldn’t snap her up if she left here.’

‘But Agnes isn’t going to leave here,’ Robert said, watching Abbie attending to the soup and feeling disgust that the rest of his family thought they should be waited on hand and foot. ‘And anyone who upsets her will feel my displeasure. I hope I’ve made myself clear?’

Oh dear, Edwina thought, it seems as though everyone is deliberately being difficult tonight. But the fear of being humiliated by her husband made her change the subject quickly. ‘Are you going out tonight, Victoria?’

‘Yes, Charles is calling for me about half eight. He can’t wait to try his new car out, so we’re going for a run in it.’ Victoria only ever mixed with those in the same social class as herself. She’d had several boyfriends, all sons of wealthy men, but in each case the courtship lasted no longer than a few months. Her reason was that they bored her rigid. But one thing Victoria Dennison was not, and that was stupid. She pandered to her mother because she was the one who handed over her monthly allowance and it was easy to wheedle extra cash from her for a new dress or hat. But Victoria never lost sight of the fact that at the end of the day, it was her father who held the purse-strings. He could, if he chose to be awkward, make them all dance to his tune. So putting on her brightest smile, she said, ‘You haven’t seen Charles’s new car, have you, Father? It really is very swish. We went for a run in it last night, just as far as the Pier Head because it was late, but everyone we passed turned their heads.’

Is that all you want out of life, for people to notice and envy you? Robert didn’t speak the words but that is how he felt. For some unknown reason he was seeing his family in a different light today, and he didn’t like what he was seeing. He must share the blame with his wife; he should have noticed sooner that spoiling the children wasn’t the right recipe for making them kind and caring. Then he mentally corrected himself. Only two of his children had been pampered and spoilt. The youngest, Abbie, could easily have turned out the same way, but she hadn’t; she was unspoilable. ‘No, I haven’t seen Charles’s car, I’m usually in the study when he calls. Besides, you know I don’t share his passion for cars. They are a means of transport to me, nothing more.’

Nigel, who spent the best part of every day in the company of his eldest sister, was sensitive to her mood swings. Why she wanted to be nice to Father he didn’t know, but she must have a reason. ‘Yes, it’s a jolly spiffing car. You must tell me what speed Charles gets it up to tonight on the country roads.’ He looked around to see if any face showed a spark of interest, and when he saw none, he tried something no one could argue with. ‘I say, this soup is absolutely delicious.’

Robert laid down his spoon and using the heavy linen napkin, he wiped his mouth. ‘I hope you pass that compliment on to Agnes, Nigel.’

‘Oh, absolutely, Father! I’ll tell her when she brings the dinner through.’

‘Why not tell her when you help your sister carry the soup plates out? That would save Agnes making two journeys. And while you’re there, would you ask her to serve me my meal in the study, please? I have a headache and need to be quiet.’ Robert saw the look of disappointment on his youngest daughter’s face and hastened to add, ‘Before I go, I want you all to know that Abbie has expressed a wish to go to commercial college and I have agreed that she may.’

Victoria gasped. ‘Commercial college! Whatever for?’

‘If I remember correctly, Victoria, when you were her age it was your heartfelt wish to spend a year at finishing school. I never at that time asked “Whatever for?” Your wish was granted, and now I am granting your sister’s wish. And I want it known that I am more than happy to do so.’ Robert rose to his feet. He was still a very handsome man, tall and well-built. His raven-black hair was now grey at the temples and this gave him an air of distinction. His brows were black and bushy, his eyes a deep brown and he had a strong jawline. ‘If you will excuse me, I will retire to the study. When the meal is over, Abbie, join me and we can discuss the way forward.’

There was complete silence until the door was closed behind him, then Edwina hissed, ‘You little madam! You know that’s going against my wishes.’

‘It’s what I want, Mother. I intend to go out to work, and to get a decent job I need qualifications. I won’t get those at a finishing school.’

‘Don’t you dare talk to me in that tone. You have no thought for what I would like for you. You want this, and you intend doing that. Selfish, selfish, selfish! You are a very ungrateful girl, Abigail, and you may find you live to rue the day you went against me.’

‘Oh, steady on, Mother!’ Nigel said. ‘If it’s what Abbie wants to do, why not let her?’

‘Keep out of it, Nigel,’ Victoria said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs. At twenty-two, she was four years older than her younger sister, who was not yet eighteen, and she had never felt any sisterly bonding between them. The difference in their ages meant they had different interests and little in common. It was only in the last year she’d noticed her sister blossoming into a very pretty girl. And envy had set in. For Abigail had inherited her father’s looks and colouring. She had jet-black, thick luxuriant hair, black eyebrows perfectly arched, long black lashes, a slightly turned-up nose and a set of strong white teeth. All set in a heart-shaped face, above a body beginning to show signs of a firm bosom, slim waist and hips, and long shapely legs. Competition was something Victoria wasn’t used to, and she’d be quite happy for her sister to be sent away to finishing school for a year.

‘I’m not selfish, Mother, and I’m not ungrateful.’ Abbie thought her mother was being very unfair. But then she’d noticed for years that she wasn’t given the same treatment as her brother and sister. She hadn’t worried about it because she knew her father loved her, but she