Hester Dark

by Emma Blair

Genres: General Fiction; Sagas

Synopsis

Even to a girl from the slums of Bristol, the streets of Glasgow were inhospitable and grey; the wealth and splendour of its mansions cold and heartless. But for Hester Dark, there could be no turning back - she would make this cruel city the home of her dreams. Everyone said that Hester was lucky. Lucky to have a wealthy uncle in Scotland who was willing to take her in. Lucky to have all the advantages that his money could buy. But Hester's new, bright world held dark secrets, jealousies and fears. And no one had spoken of the women who would despise her for her beauty and her independence - and the men who would buy her soul and call it love. Praise for Emma Blair: 'An engaging novel and the characters are endearing - a good holiday read' Historical Novels Review 'All the tragedy and passion you could hope for . . . Brilliant' The Bookseller 'Romantic fiction pure and simple and the best sort - direct, warm and hugely readable. Women's fiction at an excellent level' Publishing News 'Emma Blair explores the complex and difficult nature of human emotions in this passionately written novel' Edinburgh Evening News 'Entertaining romantic fiction' Historical Novels Review '[Emma Blair] is well worth recommending' The Bookseller

Release date: October 13, 2016

Publisher: Piatkus

Print pages: 368

Sample

Hester sat on the edge of her seat staring out the window at the uninviting, grey expanse beyond. She was appalled.

Her lower lip trembled and the inside of her throat tightened at the thought that she would be living here, that this was now her home. She hadn’t quite known what to expect of Glasgow. Her mother had rarely spoken about it. But whatever it was she’d vaguely imagined, it certainly wasn’t this.

The train juddered to a halt in the centre of a bridge over what she knew must be the River Clyde. A filthy river, black and ominous, that flowed coldly and silently on its way.

The carriage shuddered suddenly under her, while ahead the engine gave a long piercing wail. It started to rain, full-bodied drops that fell splashing in a million soft explosions.

‘Typical Glasgow weather,’ a woman further along the carriage commented.

Her companion, another middle-aged woman, nodded vigorously so that her huge bosoms bounced up and down despite the obvious corset she was wearing.. ‘Aye. Wouldn’t you know it,’ she replied.

The train started moving again, very slowly running into the station that lay beyond the bridge.

There was a sooty smell about the station, and the overall impression was one of dirt and grime. Just like the squalid tenements Hester had glimpsed a few minutes previously and which had so appalled her.

The train stopped and the carriage quickly emptied. The woman with the bosoms paused in the doorway to give Hester a friendly smile.

‘Are you all right, hen?’ she asked.

Hester returned the smile, trying to look confident, which she wasn’t at all. ‘I’m being met by my aunt and uncle,’ she replied.

The woman nodded. ‘That’s fine then,’ and stepped down onto the platform to join her travelling companion. Arm in arm they disappeared into the throng.

Although she was tall for fourteen, Hester still had to climb up on the seat to reach her small case on the rack above. She nearly lost her balance as it came tumbling down but a quick jiggling of her feet saved her from falling over.

Clutching her case she stepped down onto the platform, and stood there waiting in accordance with the instructions in her uncle’s letter.

The crowds had thinned now as she glanced about. She felt dreadfully conspicuous and not just a little lost. There were butterflies in her stomach and the insides of her thighs were trembling ever so slightly.

So this is Scotland, she thought to herself. So far she didn’t think much of it.

‘Miss Hester Dark?’

She turned to find herself staring at a young man of average height wearing a grey chauffeur’s uniform. His hat was in his hand and there was a polite smile on his face. His hair was a sharp red colour, his eyes a piercing blue.

‘I’m she,’ Hester replied.

The young man took her case. ‘Is the rest of your luggage in the guard’s van?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I think the best thing would be for me to put you in the car and then I’ll collect them. I presume they’ve all got your name on them?’

Hester nodded.

‘I thought my aunt and uncle were coming to meet me?’ she said, as they started for the car.

‘The Colonel’s at work and Mrs Oliphant is busy preparing for your arrival,’ the young man replied, reassuring her with a smile.

Hester cast her mind back over her uncle’s letter. Now that she came to think of it, what he’d said was that she would be met. Not that he and Aunt Sybil would be doing the meeting. She’d just assumed that.

The young man ushered her into the car and, after making sure she was comfortable and having inquired how many cases there were and what they looked like, hurried back toward the train.

It was a beautiful car Hester thought, by far the grandest she’d ever been in. She’d known her Uncle Will was rich, though not how rich. Curiously, her father had sometimes spoken of his brother-in-law’s wealth, but her mother had never said a word.

Her musings were interrupted by the return of the young man with her two large cases. He stowed them in the car’s boot and, that done to his satisfaction, took his place behind the wheel.

Hester blinked as they emerged from the bowels of the gloomy station into the fragile daylight. It’s a grey city, she thought to herself as the car sped on its way. The sky overhead was grey, as were the pavements beneath them, the buildings and the streets. Even the thin, pinched faces of the majority of people they passed were tinged with that colour.

A sour feeling chased the butterflies from her stomach. For the first time since starting out, she felt dreadfully homesick and would have given anything to be back in her beloved Bristol.

Despite trying to hold them back, the tears rushed into her eyes. She lowered her head and dabbed at them with the scrap of handkerchief she’d tucked up her sleeve.

‘Are you all right, Miss Dark?’ the driver inquired gently.

She looked up to discover him staring at her through the rear-view mirror. He was plainly concerned.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied huskily.

‘Would you like me to stop?’

‘How long till we reach my uncle’s house?’

‘Ten minutes.’

That would give her time to recover herself, she thought. ‘Just go on,’ she finally answered. And, blowing her nose in her hanky, sat further back in the plush, leather seat.

They drove for a few minutes in silence, and then the chauffeur said, ‘By the way, my name’s Tam Ritchie. I was engaged earlier this year by your uncle. I’m daft on cars. Always have been.’

He was obviously trying to cheer her up, and she appreciated it. His reflection in the mirror bore a genial, homely grin.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Tam,’ she smiled back, wondering immediately if she was being too familiar with a servant. She didn’t really know. They hadn’t had servants at home, or anything at all grand. How she wished she were safe in her mother’s kitchen, setting the table for their simple tea.

‘Did you have a nice trip up from England?’ he asked politely.

Brushing away a few stray tears, Hester decided she might feel better talking. And so she did. She told him all about the long and arduous journey from Bristol, the funny conductor who had never stopped singing, and the beautiful countryside they’d come through.

Tam turned the car into an impressive street of tall, stately houses. Like the rest of the city, or all that she’d seen so far, they were built from grey stone.

‘Here we are,’ said Tam drawing the car up to the kerb. Switching the engine off, he hurriedly got out to come round and open the door for her. He assisted her out by holding her elbow.

So this was her new home, this grand and imposing house with its polished knocker, its many windows and unwelcoming entrance.

They climbed a dozen flagged steps, bounded on either side by intricately worked wrought iron railings. Tam pulled the bell which echoed within the rambling depths of the house.

‘I’ll take the car round the back and bring your luggage in from there,’ Tam said. He flashed her a last brief smile and then was hurrying back down the steps to the vehicle he so obviously cherished.

Hester was sorry to see him go. He’d been the first friendly face in what was to her the great unknown. As she heard footsteps hurrying towards the door, she prayed it wouldn’t be the last friendly face.

The door was opened by a shy-looking maid about her own age.

‘I’m Hester Dark. I’m expected,’ Hester blurted out.

The girl made a small curtsey. ‘Please come in, Miss.’

The hall Hester entered had a forbidding air about it. It was immaculate, high ceilinged and cold. The smell of wax polish assailed her nostrils.

‘If you’ll follow me,’ said the girl.

Hester shivered. It was as bitter in the house as out, and grey in its feeling if not in its colour. Her shoes made clacking sounds on the highly polished floor.

Oh Ma, she cried inside herself, oh Ma. For a second, the image of her beloved mother’s face floated before her eyes as though about to lean forward and kiss her.

Hester followed the girl up the carpeted staircase with growing fear. On the second floor, the maid stopped before a heavy wooden door and knocked.

‘Come in!’ a female voice called out.

Hester knew that the voice must belong to her Aunt Sybil whom, like her uncle and the rest of their family, she’d never met. She put her best smile on and took a deep breath as she entered the room.

Aunt Sybil was a tallish, thin, plain woman with a beaky nose. Her eyes were like a bird’s, beady and fierce.

Rising from in front of the fire where she’d been sitting, she stared at Hester with curiosity but not real interest. Her gaze devoured Hester from head to foot.

‘So,’ Aunt Sybil breathed, ‘you’re Mary’s lass.’

Hester had been expecting a clasp to the bosom or a kiss on the cheek, or both. She was obviously going to get neither.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Aunt,’ she stammered.

‘I’ve already rung for tea and sandwiches,’ Aunt Sybil replied, ignoring her niece’s unease. ‘After which I’ll have you shown to your room where I’m sure you’ll want to rest for a while. You can join us at dinner which is at eight o’clock. We dress, of course.’

Hester’s reply was a nod. She wanted to cry again, but this time managed to stifle the tears. She felt so lost, so alone. So unloved. But she wouldn’t let this woman see her weep.

They sat. Aunt Sybil regarded Hester thoughtfully. ‘A terrible business about your parents,’ she said at last, watching Hester closely.

‘Yes,’ Hester replied in a quiet voice.

‘Especially your mother.’

Hester stared at the carpet.

‘An orphan at fourteen. A tragedy,’ clucked Aunt Sybil.

Hester bit her lip. Her father had been dead for two years now. She’d come to terms with that, and to live with it. But it was only a fortnight since her ma had. . . had. . . .

‘Pills wasn’t it?’ Aunt Sybil said in what was almost a hiss.

‘Yes.’

‘Poor Mary,’ cooed Aunt Sybil, with what passed in her for sympathy. ‘I suppose it was your father being killed that turned her mind?’

Somehow, she forced her voice to answer. ‘She was never the same after Da died. She just sort of went to pieces.’

‘She was quite mad then at the end I take it?’ Aunt Sybil’s voice almost seemed to smile.

Hester cringed. Was her aunt being deliberately horrible to her? Or was she being oversensitive?

The truth was, she found it terribly difficult to discuss her mother’s death. Her entire insides became a great raw wound whenever the subject was broached.

She kept her eyes averted from her aunt’s. She didn’t want her to see how totally devastated she was. The last thing she wanted was pity. Especially from this woman with her fine clothes and finer airs.

‘Well?’ Aunt Sybil urged.

Hester gulped and then cleared her throat. ‘Deranged, the doctor said,’ she whispered hoarsely.

Aunt Sybil sat back in her chair and made a pyramid with her hands. Her face was a stone mask from which her eyes shone like two black gems. She seemed satisfied about something.

‘Do you know much about us?’ Aunt Sybil changed the subject.

‘Not a lot. I know I have two cousins, both older than I. And that Uncle Will owns a newspaper. Apart from that very little.’

‘Billy is sixteen and Christine fifteen. They’re both at school now, but will be back late afternoon. They’ve been looking forward to your arrival.’

Finally, the tea appeared. The sandwiches were dainty cucumber ones. Hester was ravenous and ate most of them. Outside the rain increased, hitting the tall windows like pebbles.

She wondered what Billy and Christine were like. Would they be like their mother? She hoped they were nice. Life was going to be awfully difficult if they weren’t.

And what sort of man was Uncle Will? A lot like her mother, she hoped and prayed. As she’d been hoping and praying ever since the letter had arrived to say she was to travel north to stay with the Oliphants.

‘I believe a neighbour looked after you until now.’

‘Mrs Egbert who lived next door. She and Ma were great friends. It was Mrs Egbert who arranged the funeral and everything.’

Aunt Sybil gave a thin smile. ‘Mrs Egbert may have arranged it, but it was your Uncle Will who paid for it. I hope you appreciate that?’

‘Yes, Aunt Sybil.’

Aunt Sybil nodded, then delicately sipped her tea. ‘Was there a Mr Egbert?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Yes.’

‘And what did he do?’

‘He worked on the docks like my Da.’

Aunt Sybil looked vaguely disapproving, as though someone had walked on the carpet in muddy boots.

‘He was a nice man and she a nice woman,’ Hester said defiantly. If she’d had her way she’d have stayed with the Egberts rather than come to live with her aunt and uncle. She’d pleaded with the Egberts to keep her, but it was impossible. Much as they would have liked to take her in, with eight children of their own to feed and clothe their money was already stretched. One more mouth was just beyond them. Anyway, Mrs Egbert had argued, it was only right and proper that Hester went to the Oliphants. They were blood relatives, after all. Her uncle was her mother’s brother, it was what her mother would have wanted.

Aunt Sybil poured more tea. ‘You’ll no doubt miss Bristol to begin with, of course. But I think you’ll come to find that Glasgow has a great deal to offer,’ she said.

Hester smiled, but didn’t reply.

They chatted about this and that for a little while longer, then Aunt Sybil took her upstairs and showed Hester her bedroom where her clothes had already been unpacked and put away.

The room surprised Hester. For some reason she’d been expecting something dreary and tucked out of the way, but this room, though out of the way, was anything but dreary.

She thought it delightful. There was a double bed and bright paper on the walls. There was a fireplace in which a large fire now roared and, covering most of the floor, a thick, fluffy carpet.

Hester sat at the dressing table and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She was drawn and pale, not at all as she had been only a few weeks ago. Her eyes were strained-looking and ringed with dark circles.

She rose from the dressing table to touch the back of a comfy club chair close to the fire.

‘Well?’ Aunt Sybil asked.

Hester gave her aunt a grateful smile, wondering if she hadn’t misjudged her. ‘It’s lovely,’ she sighed.

A middle-aged maid with an Irish accent appeared at the door and announced that the young miss’s bath was now ready.

‘I thought you’d like one,’ Aunt Sybil explained.

‘Oh, yes please!’ Hester exclaimed.

Aunt Sybil gave her directions to the bathroom and then said she would leave her alone now. She expected Hester to be downstairs dressed at seven-forty-five. She would arrange for her to have a call at six.

After her aunt had gone Hester closed the door and leaned against it. Her eyes swept over the room, taking everything in.

The room had a calming, soothing effect on her. How grand it was! Nothing at all like she’d been used to back in Bristol where home had been a terraced two up and two down. Her room had been barely quarter the size of this one and nowhere near as luxurious.

She crossed to the bed and sat on it, exclaiming with delight as she literally sank into its deep, soft mattress.

What a curious mixture she told herself. Her aunt cold and somewhat distant and the rest of the house chilly and gloomy. And then the sheer heaven of this room, which was so warm, friendly and comforting.

Rising from the bed she took off her travelling clothes and put on her dressing gown. Outside in the hall she followed her aunt’s directions and had no trouble finding the bathroom.

The tub was enormous with steam lazily rising from the scented water within. She saw that bath crystals had been added to the water which had turned it deep green. A thick towel lay on a wooden chair nearby.

She sighed with pleasure as she slid into the water. She stared up at the magnolia painted ceiling high overhead.

‘Glasgow,’ she mused aloud. An ugly name for an ugly city. For a long time, she lay half sleeping wondering what it had in store for her.

‘Come in!’ Hester called out in reply to the knock on her bedroom door. It was a few minutes to six and she was just completing dressing.

She turned round when she saw it wasn’t a maid who entered. There was no mistaking who the girl must be. Slightly shorter than Hester, she was skinny as a stick and had her mother’s plain face and sharp nose.

Hester smiled. ‘You must be Christine.’

‘Mother said you would still be in your bed.’

‘I couldn’t sleep. It’s all the excitement, I suppose.’

Christine nodded and advanced into the room a little further, studying Hester carefully. ‘You’re very pretty,’ she pronounced almost grudgingly.

Hester flushed. ‘Thank you.’

Hester held out her hand towards her cousin which, after a moment’s hesitation, was taken. Solemnly they shook. Hester, who had had fantasies about Christine being the sister she had never had, wanted to clasp Christine to her, but the other girl’s manner forbade that.

‘You’ll be coming to my school,’ Christine announced in her abrupt way.

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ mumbled Hester, not knowing what else to say.

‘It’s called May bank. I think you’ll like it. It’s the most expensive girl’s school in Glasgow.’

‘The school I went to before was just an ordinary one. I hope I’ll fit in.’

Christine raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll just have to. Father would never allow you to attend a common school now that you’re living with us. It would reflect badly on him, you see.’

‘Yes,’ Hester said slowly, ‘I guess I do.’

‘You’ll have to get a uniform first, mind you. Grey and red it is. Rather pretty, in a subdued way,’ Christine said, looking at her cousin with disapproval.

The doubts she’d had earlier came flooding back. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming to stay here?’ she said, the hint of a tremor in her voice. How she’d hoped Christine would like her! ‘I had nowhere else to go.’

Christine looked through her as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Your father was an American, Mother said?’

Hester nodded. ‘Yes. He came from Boston.’

‘And wasn’t he a seaman?’

‘Until he met my mother and they went to live in Bristol. There he worked on the docks.’

‘You don’t mean as a common labourer?’ Christine was clearly shocked.

Hester’s mouth pursed on hearing the scorn in her cousin’s voice. ‘He started off as one. But after a while they made him a foreman,’ she said defensively.

Christine was unimpressed. ‘Your parents were very poor, Mother said?’

‘We never went without,’ Hester replied quickly.

‘I just hope you don’t let me down at school, that’s all,’ Christine said suddenly. ‘I’ll hate you if the girls laugh at me because of you.’

What could she reply to that? Her cousin’s words made her dread the thought of going to Maybank. ‘I’d rather hoped we were going to be friends,’ she answered bravely after a short pause.

Christine’s small, incessantly watchful eyes bored into Hester’s. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not,’ she said archly, and turning on her heel swept from the room.

Hester sat in the club chair and gazed into the remains of the fire, shaking and feeling sick.

In the glowing embers she saw first her father’s face and then her mother’s. ‘Oh Da! Oh Ma!’ she whispered to their ghosts. New tears sprang into her eyes, and the old pain burned in her heart.

She remembered the countless Sundays her Da had taken her along the banks of the Avon, or out into the country. The many games they’d played together. The marvellous times they’d had. The great love she’d had for him and he for her.

Then there was Ma. Ma whom she’d idolized, who was not just her mother but her best friend. Ma who’d never been the same after Da had been killed.

It had started with Ma not doing the housework as much, or as well, as she always had. A little after that Ma’s appearance had begun to deteriorate, and she’d forget what she was doing or even saying.

Hester could still remember the first night she’d woken to hear her mother sobbing her heart out in the bedroom. From then on it was a rare night that passed when Ma didn’t cry.

Hester wiped her own tears away and gulped in a deep breath to try and steady herself. Glancing at the clock, she realized she’d been lost in her dreams longer than she’d thought.

Using the jug and basin in the corner to wash away all signs of her tears, she walked to the door as though she was going to her execution.

‘I’m Billy and it’s marvellous to meet you and have you stay with us.’

Billy wasn’t at all like Aunt Sybil or Christine. Not only was he friendly but charming as well.

A great deal of Hester’s depression lifted from her when he kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her tightly. This was more like it. This was as it was meant to be.

‘It’s marvellous to meet you too,’ she replied with real feeling.

Billy, eyes twinkling, held her at arms’ length and studied her. ‘I must say I never expected you to be such a cracker,’ he said admiringly.

‘Billy!’ Aunt Sybil snapped.

‘Well she is, Mother.’

Christine sniffed and glowered.

‘It’s very kind of you to say so,’ Hester said.

‘Beauty is only skin deep,’ Christine hissed, but not quietly enough for her brother not to catch it.

Billy burst out laughing which infuriated Christine and made her turn away blushing.

‘Your father’s late,’ said Aunt Sybil as the ornate Grandfather clock in the corner chimed eight.

‘How unlike him,’ commented Christine.

‘It is, indeed. Something very important must have come up to detain him at the office.’ Aunt Sybil called the maid and gave instructions that dinner was to be held for half an hour.

‘Cook will love that,’ Billy grinned mischieviously.

‘Cook’s likes and dislikes hardly enter into it,’ his mother sniffed waspishly.

Billy was a good looking young man who, at sixteen, was starting to fill out in the chest and shoulders.

Hester and Billy drew apart, chatting together animatedly. She told him about Bristol, and he told her about Glasgow. She liked the easy, friendly, manner he had about him. At last she’d found an ally.

All conversation in the room suddenly stopped when the door burst open. The man who entered was exceptionally tall for a Glaswegian. He was well built, with a great, leonine head, topped by a shock of dark auburn hair which he wore swept straight back from the forehead. The eyes were green and filled with the mystery of Celtic mists. She guessed him to be about forty.

Hester stood and unconsciously smoothed down the front of her dress, deciding it best not to speak until spoken to.

‘Good evening dear,’ said Aunt Sybil. Going to her husband’s side, she pecked him on the cheek, immediately recoiling. ‘You’ve been drinking,’ she accused.

‘Just a few drams,’ he replied. His voice was rougher, less cultured than those of the rest of his family, but it was a good voice; strong, firm and resonant.

Aunt Sybil’s eyes went from his to Hester. For one fleeting moment Hester thought she saw the slightest hint of malice in that levelled gaze – but she couldn’t be sure.

‘Your niece, Hester,’ Aunt Sybil said.

Uncle Will stared at Hester long and hard, as though lost in a world of his own.

‘Dearest?’ Aunt Sybil prompted.

Slowly, Uncle Will crossed the room to stand in front of Hester. There was a trace of perspiration on his forehead and his breathing was heavy and strained.

‘The spit of your mother,’ he said slowly, like a man coming out of a trance. He reached out to touch Hester’s hair, which was the same coal black her mother’s had been. He nodded to himself. Remembering.

‘People have always said we were very alike,’ Hester replied shyly.

Uncle Will grunted.

Aunt Sybil’s now veiled eyes went from him to Hester and then back again.

‘We’ll talk about your mother later,’ he said abruptly, his words just noticeably thick with emotion. Then added, ‘In the meantime, welcome to our home, lass. It’s good to have you with us. I only wish the circumstances had been different.’ He then stooped to give Hester a fatherly kiss on the forehead and cheek.

‘Thank you for taking me in, Uncle,’ Hester whispered.

‘Was there trouble at the office, dear?’ Aunt Sybil inquired.

‘Not really.’

‘But you’re late?’

‘That’s because I stopped off at a pub on the way home.’

Aunt Sybil’s smile thinned instantly, and again her gaze swung to Hester and away again.

‘Get me a dram, Billy,’ Uncle Will said. Tearing his gaze from Hester, he made his way to the fire where he briskly rubbed his hands. ‘It’s still teeming out,’ he said to no one in particular.

Hester watched the amber liquid vanish down her uncle’s throat. He was a powerful man and she felt naturally drawn to him, like iron to a magnet. And yet there was something about him which made her uneasy. Scared her even. But she didn’t know what it could be.

‘How was your day?’ Aunt Sybil inquired.

‘Fine. A few problems late in the afternoon, but I got them sorted out before I left.’

At a sign from his father Billy took the glass and refilled it. Uncle Will carried it with him when they all trooped through to the dining room.

During the meal Hester was aware of her uncle glancing surreptitiously at her from time to time. Nor was this attention lost on Sybil, who watched her husband’s face continually.

It was a strange home-coming meal, Hester thought. Instead of being happy and excited it was overhung with a black, oppressive atmosphere. Uncle Will seemed morose and lost in himself, his face a dirty white colour and the perspiration that had dotted his forehead when he arrived was even more pronounced.

Christine was sullen and only spoke when directly addressed. Billy, on the other hand, the one exception, chattered nineteen to the dozen. He managed to squeeze a number of smiles, and even a laugh, out of Hester before the meal was over.

Back in the drawing room Uncle Will went directly to the whisky decanter and poured himself a triple. Indicating that they should all sit, he took a chair in front of the fire that gave him a clear view of Hester.

‘Now,’ he said slowly, addressing her. ‘Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened to Robert Dark. Your mother wrote at the time to say he’d died, but didn’t give us any details.’

There was something here. An undercurrent of some sort. She’d felt it ever since her uncle’s arrival home. But she didn’t know what it was. Unless . . . there had been disapproval in her uncle’s voice when he’d spoken her father’s name.

‘Didn’t you get on with my father?’ she asked bluntly, in what Robert Dark himself would have said was a good, forthright, New England manner.

Uncle Will regarded her from behind hooded eyes. He tipped his glass and the whisky vanished. ‘Your father and I. . . . well . . . let’s just say we had our differences. But I respected him. He was always a good husband to your mother.’

She lowered her head to stare at the carpet. Her voice trembled when she at last spoke. ‘Two years ago, nineteen-seventeen,’ she said. Her chest seemed to be on fire. ‘It was a Tuesday. I remember that quite clearly. He saw me off to school as he always did, waving to me at the crossroads where he turned right and I went left into the school. He used always to walk a little way along that road and then turn and wave and I would wave back. Then . . . that afternoon . . . Mrs Egbert was waiting for me in the kitchen. There’s been an accident, she said. Your Da. Word came an hour ago. Your Ma’s gone to the hospital and says you’ve to wait here till she gets back. But I didn’t understand. I thought he would be all right. . . .

‘Mrs Egbert made me some tea and then I did my homework. It was nearly six when Ma got back. I knew the moment I saw her face. It was all red and swollen from crying. But it was more than that. There was just something there that told me. He’s dead, I said. And Ma just nodded and sat beside me at the table.’ Hester stared at the floor, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

‘I couldn’t believe it. It was all so unreal. Mrs Egbert made a pot of tea for Ma, but she couldn’t drink it. It stuck in her throat she said. I asked her how Da had died, but all she said was that it was an accident. She wouldn’t tell me more.’

Hester wrung her hands together, the memory of that day and what had happened since making her feel all tight and empty inside.

‘Did you never find out?’ asked Aunt Sybil.

‘Yes,’ Hester gasped. ‘One of the lads at school told me a few months later. He’d heard his parents talking about it and that was how he knew. Da had been inspecting a faulty winch when someone had accidentally turned it on. There was a chain on the winch which wrapped itself round my Da’s arm. It tore it right out by the roots. He was dead long before they got him to the hospital.’

‘My God!’ said Aunt Sybil softly.

Christine sat staring at Hester, her eyes bulging and an expression of horror on her face.

Billy’s mouth hung open.

Uncle Will rose and poured himself more whisky. At the decanter he said over his shoulder, ‘Robert Dark certainly didn’t deserve that. That’s