Legacy of Shame

by Nora Kay

Genres: Sagas; Historical Romance

Synopsis

When Kate McPherson is only ten years old, she loses both her mother and her home. The man she knew as 'Uncle Edwin' has no place in his heart or life for his dead mistress's little girl. Kate becomes the ward of her aunt Sarah, her father's sister - a stern woman who tells Kate the full story of her mother's shame. Edwin Hamilton-Harvey was not the first man Kate's mother loved without benefit of marriage. When he came back from World War I and married her mother, Edwin already had a wife, Ruth. So begins a strange relationship between the orphaned girl and two women who ought to hate her. For both Sarah and Ruth McPherson, Kate becomes a cherished surrogate daughter. But tragedy strikes when Kate falls in love with Roddy Hamilton-Harvey, the son of the man who once rejected her. The Bradford Telegraph and Argus loved this book: 'If you enjoy Cookson you will love this.'

Release date: April 25, 2013

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 409

Sample

‘Your mother was my mistress. You knew that, of course you did?’

Kate McPherson shook her head. ‘I didn’t know that, Uncle Edwin.’

He frowned. ‘That must stop, addressing me as Uncle Edwin.’

‘Why?’

‘Because, my dear, I am not your uncle, we are in no way related.’ He made an arc of his fingers. ‘For reasons of her own your mother wished you to call me that and my mistake was agreeing to it.’

‘I see.’ She didn’t, but it was better to pretend she did.

‘In future you will address me as Mr Hamilton-Harvey.’

Her attention was wandering the way it did these days.

‘Are you listening?’ he said sharply.

Kate jumped. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, I’m listening.’

‘Then tell me what you are to call me?’ He sounded like a school teacher with a particularly slow pupil.

‘Mr Hamilton-Harvey.’

‘Good, we have that settled. How old are you, Kate? Eleven isn’t it?’

‘No, ten, I’m ten and a half.’

He nodded. ‘Nearly grown up. In a few years you will be old enough to get a job and look after yourself.’

‘Yes.’

He was frowning again. ‘You do realise that you are not my responsibility?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Nevertheless, something will have to be done about you. The problem is what.’

Kate was trying to hide her panic. What was going to happen to her?

‘Please, can’t I just stay here with Mrs Lennox?’ Mrs Lennox had been kind. Kate had wept into her soft bosom and been comforted.

‘Certainly not. This is my house, Kate, and I have – plans for it. As far as Mrs Lennox is concerned, the woman was only engaged to see to the running of the house after your mother fell ill. Where is the woman?’

‘In the village, she said she had some shopping to do.’ The awful choking sensation was back in her throat but she fought it. Suddenly it had become very important to Kate not to break down.

He nodded, dismissing Mrs Lennox. The girl was not his responsibility but even so he did feel duty-bound to make some arrangements. He had never been drawn to the girl, possibly because when he might have made a fuss of her, she had remained unresponsive. Mildred had blamed it on shyness and it was possible that she had been in awe of him. Fortunately the girl was intelligent and Edwin Hamilton-Harvey wondered how much of the situation she really knew or guessed. Better to find out now.

‘Kate, I can’t believe that you didn’t know your mother was my mistress.’

Kate remained silent.

‘You do know what a mistress is?’

Kate felt a flash of anger that he should think her ignorant. The head teacher of a school was called a headmistress and a woman was mistress in her house. Fancy him thinking she didn’t know that!’

‘Yes, I do know,’ she said louder than necessary.

He breathed more easily. For one horrible moment Edwin Hamilton-Harvey had seen himself trying to explain and deuced awkward that would have been.

‘Good, I felt sure you would.’

They were sitting in the comfortably furnished sitting-room in the stone-built house known as The Rockery. The front of the house lived up to its name with rockery plants and heathers covering the huge stones and making an attractive, colourful display. It occupied a secluded position about half a mile from the village of Lamondhill in Angus. The man had been smoking but put the pipe aside. He wore a tweed suit with leather buttons on the jacket and was sitting in the easy chair with his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. Kate was sitting nearer to the window in a straight-backed chair. She was pale and her fingers kept pleating and unpleating her blue cotton skirt. There was no fire and a plant with a great deal of greenery hid the empty grate. The September day was pleasantly warm though by evening it would be much cooler and Mrs Lennox would light a fire. Kate looked around her at the familiar scene and thought how different it had looked when her mother had been its mistress. There was that word again. Her mother had made it a home, now it was just a house. Mr Hamilton-Harvey’s house. Hanging on the wall were framed watercolours of the local beauty spots and one rather dull oil painting of a table with a bowl of fruit and a vase of pink roses, one of which had shed some of its petals on to the circle of lace. On the wall above the bureau hung a calendar with a view of Balmoral Castle and showing very clearly that this was the year 1930.

Edwin Hamilton-Harvey was irritated to find himself in this position. Shortly after they had met, Mildred told him that she and the baby were alone in the world. It hadn’t mattered then, probably he had thought it an advantage that Mildred had no one. Thinking back to that time brought an unexpected lump to his throat. She had been so lovely with her ivory smooth skin, her honey-coloured hair and those magnificent deep blue eyes. The years had not taken away her beauty but rather they had enhanced it. The lovely girl had become a poised and beautiful woman and the times spent with Mildred had been the happiest of his life.

One day he imagined Kate would be quite lovely. She was very like Mildred with the same colouring, only her eyes were violet blue rather than that deep wonderful shade. He only wished his own daughter was as pretty as Kate. Heads had turned for Mildred and the wonder of it was that she hadn’t appeared to notice. She had seemed to be perfectly happy to be his mistress though he guessed and it was an accurate guess, that the house in its isolated position and the security it gave was the main attraction. He had loved Mildred from the time they met but he knew she hadn’t shared those feelings. Not that he could fault her in any way, Mildred had always been warm and loving but without giving all of herself. Occasionally he had wondered about the husband who had died so young but he never asked and she never volunteered any information. He had a wife and family who were dear to him and Mildred had Kate and her memories. It had worked out very well. His wife, Gwen, had hated the intimate side of marriage and had been quite unable to hide the fact from Edwin though, to give her her due, she had tried.

Edwin was a good-looking, stockily built man of forty-seven. He had a small moustache, slightly receding hair and pale blue eyes. His home of which he was very proud, was in Broughty Ferry where many of the wealthy folk of Dundee chose to live. The Rockery was his love-nest and at twelve miles from Dundee was far enough away from his home to avoid gossip and near enough for frequent visits. Craggy Point, the family estate belonging to the Hamilton-Harveys, had become Edwin’s on the death of his father together with a distressing amount of debt which had been the result of his father’s weakness for gambling. If the estate was to remain in the family then those debts had to be settled and soon. Marrying into money was the obvious solution, indeed Edwin saw it as the only way out of his difficulties, and to this end he courted the plain but wealthy Gwen Morton who was a few years his senior. Gwendoline Morton was no fool, she knew the reason for Edwin’s interest but since it suited her she gave him every encouragement. Her dearest wish was to marry into an old and respected family and when Edwin proposed she had no hesitation in accepting. The marriage had taken place quickly and without fuss and there were some who thought it must be a shot-gun marriage. It wasn’t. Gwen did her duty as she saw it and once she had produced a son and heir and a daughter besides, she saw no reason to continue sharing a bedroom. She told her husband that she had no objection whatsoever to him keeping a mistress provided he was discreet about it. With that side of their marriage taken care of, Gwen and Edwin became good friends. She having the better brain was always consulted before any decisions were made. As well as keeping an eye on the estate, Gwen continued to safeguard her own interests. Years before, fortunes had been made in the Dundee jute mills but those richly prosperous days were all but gone. India with its cheap labour had been a distant threat which had become grim reality. Many mill workers were without jobs and, a sign of the times, corner shops could no longer afford to give credit. A few, including the Hawkhead Mill, continued to make a profit though nothing like the good old days. The Hawkhead Mill had been established by the Morton family and, with no male heir to succeed, it had come to Gwen. For the sake of appearance, Edwin was in charge but it was widely known that he knew very little about the jute trade and that his wife was the true manager.

In time the son, Roderick, would take over. Roderick got his intelligence and his business sense from his mother and from his father his good appearance. His height, six feet of him, came from Gwen’s side of the family.

Edwin Hamilton-Harvey had been silent for some time and Kate kept looking across.

‘A sad business, Kate.’ He sighed. ‘She was a fine woman, your mother.’

‘Yes.’ She couldn’t stop them, couldn’t hold back the scalding tears.

‘Now! Now! Kate, that won’t help, you know.’ Edwin couldn’t abide tears, even tears of grief. It was fourteen days since Mildred’s untimely death and in his opinion that was long enough for an outward show of grief. What good did tears do? They didn’t bring back the dead. He couldn’t remember grieving for very long when first his mother and then his father had left this world. The death of his mistress was affecting him much more. Still life had to go on and he was already thinking of installing someone else in The Rockery. Not a refined, gentle creature like Mildred, this one was a little on the coarse side but she was young with a voluptuous body and he was seeing the promise of exciting times ahead. The matter of Kate McPherson would have to be settled and soon.

Kate sniffed, dried her eyes, mumbled an apology and gave her full attention to the large porcelain bowl on the rosewood table. It was empty and that didn’t look right. Her mother had loved arranging flowers and it had always been filled with fresh blooms from the garden or with bits of greenery or red berries when the flowering season was over.

The man got to his feet. ‘I must be on my way, Kate, and don’t worry things have a habit of working out.’

She watched him go, heard the door shut and a few minutes later a car starting up. What would he do about her? Where would she be sent? She wasn’t going to be allowed to stay at The Rockery, he had made that clear. Kate wondered what plans he had made for it. Perhaps he was going to sell the house. He had never liked her, she had sensed that. When he came it was only her mother he was interested in and Kate had always felt left out and unwanted. What if he just washed his hands of her? He had said she wasn’t his responsibility and made sure she understood that. The thought of being alone and forgotten sent a chill down her spine and suddenly the silence of the house became oppressive and frightening. The knuckle of her hand went into her mouth to stop the scream and then she heard the key turn in the lock. Mrs Lennox was coming in the back door with her shopping bag. She put it down on the table with a thud as though glad to be free of it. With a strangled cry Kate rushed into her arms.

‘There! There! Kate, my little pet,’ she said drawing her close. ‘I wouldn’t have left you if I’d known you’d get into this state. You could have come to the shops.’

‘No, I didn’t want to, I didn’t want people saying things and making me cry. I can’t help it, Mrs Lennox.’

‘No harm in a good weep, my little lamb, in fact it does a lot of good. To my mind you haven’t done enough of it. Sit yourself down and we’ll have a cup of tea in a wee while. I bought a doughnut for you, freshly made. You can always tell with a doughnut. If the sugar has disappeared then it wasn’t made that day.’ She began putting away the shopping.

‘He was here, Mrs Lennox,’ Kate said holding her sodden handkerchief balled up in her hand.

‘Your Uncle Edwin?’

‘He isn’t my uncle, he told me that and he wants me to call him Mr Hamilton-Harvey.’

‘I shouldn’t let that worry you. Lots of children call adults who come a lot about the house aunt or uncle, then when they are older it stops.’

‘I didn’t know that.’ Kate thought there was an awful lot she didn’t understand.

‘That’s the kettle boiling I’ll make the tea.’ The woman busied herself, then sat down at the table opposite Kate. ‘Eat your doughnut and I’ll have a piece of sponge to keep you company.’

Mrs Lennox was small and dumpy and a kind-hearted soul who was deeply concerned about Kate. Life could be so cruel. The bairn wasn’t yet eleven and an orphan. Had there been a husband? She thought so but others weren’t so sure. No one knew much about the lady who had lived at The Rockery but all agreed she was pleasant and nice-looking which made it difficult to understand why she should have a man arriving in his car and staying overnight. Kate called him her uncle but not many believed he was a relative.

Mrs Lennox wished she could do something but it was impossible. There was barely room to swing a cat in her small house and although they were happy enough the overcrowding did bring out the bad temper and raised voices. These few weeks away from her demanding family had been like a holiday. Her eldest, Peggy, was coping. She was a bossyboots at the best of times and the young ones would know better than disobey or answer back. It would do the rascals no harm. Her sailor husband seldom came home and she had a suspicion that there was someone else. She didn’t ask him. The money arrived regularly and that was something for which she should be thankful.

Jessie Lennox would have made a good nurse. She had had plenty of practice with her own family, nursing them through measles, chickenpox and more worryingly, whooping cough. She had looked after elderly relatives stubbornly holding on to a life that had little meaning until at last came the merciful release. Seeing a young child slipping away, cheated of life, made the woman angry as well as sad. There seemed no sense to it but then as she would tell herself it would all be made clear one day. Watching Kate’s mother getting ever weaker yet managing to remain cheerful was hard to bear yet the carers had to remain strong. Folk needed someone on whom they could depend.

‘Mrs Lennox, what about school?’

‘What about it, Kate? No, keep pouring – I like a full cup of tea. Thanks, lass.’

After the funeral Kate had gone back to school. Her teacher and Mrs Lennox had been in agreement that it was best. The routine and being with her school friends would help to keep her mind off losing her mother. The children had been told to be especially kind to Kate because of her loss. Those same children who could at times be cruel were capable of showing sympathy. The thought of how they would feel if it was their mother who had died brought it home to them how Kate must be suffering.

‘Mr Hamilton-Harvey said I couldn’t stay here and if I have to go away that will mean a new school, won’t it?’

‘Yes, if you leave Lamondhill you’ll have to go to another.’

Kate’s lips were quivering. ‘I don’t want to leave, I like my school.’

‘You could like your new one even better.’ Mrs Lennox popped the last of the sponge into her mouth and then gathered up the crumbs and ate them. ‘What were we talking about? Ah, yes, school. Don’t worry your head about that, one is very much like another. You do well at school, so your teacher said and she should know.’

‘Did she really say that?’ Kate looked pleased.

‘She did.’

‘Sometimes I’m top of the class and sometimes Jane Cummings beats me,’ Kate said shyly.

‘You stick into your lessons, lass, and make something of yourself. My lot haven’t been blessed with brains but then again we can’t all be clever. You, Kate, are going to be one of the lucky ones with brains and beauty.’

‘I’m not beautiful. My mother was.’

‘Yes, your mother was a lovely lady and one day you will be the same.’

Kate smiled. ‘Do you know what he, I mean, Mr Hamilton-Harvey, asked me – and that’s another thing,’ she said as if it had just occurred to her, ‘why has he got two names?’

‘The Lord only knows, one is enough for most folk. A bit of swank, I’d say, and he is a toff after all. What did he ask you?’

‘He asked me if I knew what a mistress was.’

Mrs Lennox gave a start. ‘And do you?’ she said cautiously.

‘Of course.’

‘You do?’

Kate frowned. Mrs Lennox didn’t think she knew either.

‘Yes, I do. Do you want me to tell you?’ Was it possible that Mrs Lennox didn’t know?

‘No, lass, I don’t think so.’ The woman paused trying to weigh her next words. She didn’t want Kate to lose respect for her mother. ‘Remember, Kate, there are times when some of us are driven, through no fault of our own, to do what we know to be wrong.’ Picking up her cup she drained the last of the tea and wondered just how much the child understood or pretended to understand.

For her part Kate was puzzled. ‘Miss McGowan is a headmistress,’ she said slowly and waited for Mrs Lennox to say something.

Mrs Lennox didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Poor little innocent, she hadn’t the faintest idea about the accepted meaning of mistress. Should she enlighten the child or would that be cruel? Losing her mother at that age was dreadful enough without finding out that her beloved mother had been mistress to that man – and for all those years. No, she couldn’t do it. On the other hand to hear it from someone else, someone less sympathetic . . . she would have to sleep on it.



When Kate opened her eyes there was a faint glimmer of light coming through the crack between the curtains. About to get out of bed, she stopped herself, realising this was Saturday. No school today and Mrs Lennox had told her to have a long lie and only to get up when she felt like it. It should have been nice snuggling down and for a little while it was. Then the familiar ache for her mother and knowing she would never see her again, brought a rush of tears and in an effort to stop them Kate turned on to her stomach and buried her face in the pillows. How long she lay like that Kate didn’t know, she must have exhausted herself and then drifted back to sleep. Rubbing her eyes she yawned then got up and pulled on her dressing-gown, the warm pink one that had replaced the yellow one with the white rabbits on the pocket. Kate went downstairs, her slippered feet making no sound on the carpeted stair. The kitchen door was slightly ajar and she was about to push it open when Kate heard the voices. One belonged to Mrs Lennox, the other she didn’t recognise. Should she go back to her bedroom and come down again when whoever it was had gone? Undecided, Kate lingered a few moments and then she didn’t want to move. They were talking about her and surely she had a right to hear what was being said. Kate wasn’t fully convinced that she was doing the right thing but the need to know was stronger than her willpower.

As for Mrs Lennox, that woman could have seen her early-morning visitor far enough.

‘It’s you, Mrs Petrie,’ she said resignedly and made no attempt to invite the woman in. She just hoped that whatever talking there was could be done on the doorstep. It was not to be.

‘That’s a chill wind,’ she said giving a shiver. ‘I’ll just step in for a few minutes.’

Mrs Lennox sighed and moved aside to let her unwelcome visitor enter, then shut the door.

‘Fine and warm in here, that’s the thing about kitchens. The bairn, she’s not here then?’

‘Kate’s in bed and asleep I hope.’

‘Best place for the poor lass.’ She tut-tutted. ‘It’s just that I’m worried, we all are. What’s to happen, Mrs Lennox? What’s to become of Kate?’

Mrs Lennox was trying to make allowances. There was no harm in the woman she knew that. She just had a need to have her curiosity satisfied.

‘You know as much as I do.’

Vera Petrie folded her arms and her expression said that she didn’t believe that, not for a single moment.

‘There’s nothing to tell.’

‘I can’t believe that and surely you can tell me. You must know it won’t go any further.’

Mrs Lennox knew nothing of the kind.

Vera Petrie lowered her voice. ‘That man, the one Kate calls her Uncle Edwin, I saw him here yesterday. Will he take her do you think? No, on second thoughts he wouldn’t be likely to do that, not unless the bairn is his, of course.’ Her eyes were bright and curious.

Mrs Lennox pursed her lips. ‘Kate’s father died when she was little more than a baby, Mrs Petrie, I do happen to know that.’

‘There you are then.’ She nodded her head several times. ‘You can rest assured that he won’t take responsibility for his mistress’s bairn. Someone was saying, and I’m inclined to agree, that there will be another woman taking up residence in The Rockery before too long.’

‘I’ve work to do, Mrs Petrie, you must let me get on.’

‘Oh, there’s plenty of that waiting for me. A woman’s work is never done.’ She took a step towards the door Mrs Lennox had already opened then stopped to have her final say. ‘Always thought Kate’s mother to be a superior kind of woman. Makes you think doesn’t it why a woman like that would belittle herself to be a mistress to that man, to any man come to that, and for it to go on for all that time. Poor Kate, it’s to be hoped she will be spared the truth.’

‘We don’t know the ins and outs of it and we never will. Goodbye, Mrs Petrie. Kate will be down any minute and I must see to her breakfast.’ She saw the woman out and then shut the door firmly.

Kate went quickly back upstairs then came down a few minutes later. She said good morning to Mrs Lennox and sat down at the scrubbed kitchen table.

‘There you are, lass, get that into you,’ the woman said putting down a steaming plate of porridge in front of her.

Kate picked up her spoon and forced down a few mouthfuls. She had been trying to make sense of what had been said. It had something to do with mistress and Kate was finding that confusing. How could her mother have been Mr Hamilton-Harvey’s mistress? Unless that was another name for housekeeper. Kate didn’t really think that. It had sounded as though her mother had done something shameful and Kate would never believe that.

‘You’re very quiet, pet.’

Kate put her spoon down and pushed aside the unfinished plate of porridge. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not hungry.’

‘A slice of toast, how about that?’

She shook her head. ‘I heard you both talking,’ Kate burst out. ‘Don’t scold, I know I shouldn’t have been listening and I meant to go away only I didn’t.’

‘You were outside the door listening?’

‘Yes.’ Kate licked her dry lips. ‘Has mistress got another meaning, a bad one?’

Mrs Lennox was using the bottom of the table to roll out pastry and she was giving it all her attention.

‘Has it got another meaning?’ Kate persisted.

‘Yes, Kate, it does have another meaning. Let me get this apple tart in the oven and you can get yourself washed and dressed, then we’ll talk about it, if that is what you want.’

‘I should know, shouldn’t I?’

‘It might be better but I won’t find it easy to explain.’

‘You’ll try?’

‘Yes, I’ll try. Off you go then. Put on a clean blouse and bring the one you had on yesterday down and anything else that needs washing.’

Kate did as she was told and came down looking fresh in her pleated skirt and pale blue blouse with its pretty mother-of-pearl buttons and carrying the clothes for the wash-tub. Mrs Lennox was putting the final touches, fluting the edges before brushing the pastry with egg yolk and popping the tart in the oven.

‘We had better sit here and talk or else I’ll forget I’ve something in the oven and it’ll be a burnt offering I’ll be serving.’

Kate smiled. She knew that she had put Mrs Lennox in a spot, that the woman didn’t want to talk about whatever it was. And Kate was sorry, only it was so very important that she learned the truth and she would get that from Mrs Lennox.

‘Before I begin, Kate, and whatever you are to hear . . .’ She stopped, not having the words to complete what she wanted to say.

‘I know what you mean,’ Kate said hastily. ‘Nothing you tell me will make any difference. I loved my mother and I know she wouldn’t have done anything wicked.’

‘Neither she would. Your mother was a very fine lady and she would have been quite incapable of doing anything bad. Some of us are called on to make very difficult decisions, Kate, and in my opinion not one of us is in a position to judge another. Faced with a similar situation we don’t know what we would have done.’

‘Like when you haven’t got any money?’

‘Like that, Kate. Poverty, real poverty, not knowing where the next penny is coming from, is hard to bear especially if there is a child to feed and clothe.’

By the time she had finished there were beads of perspiration on the woman’s brow. Someone else, better educated, might have made a better job of the telling but she had done her best.

‘My mummy liked him, I’m sure she did,’ Kate said quietly.

‘Yes, she would have and he was probably in love with your mother, she was a lovely lady.’

‘Why didn’t he marry her then? My daddy died when I was a baby.’

‘I thought I explained that to you. Mr Hamilton-Harvey will no doubt have a wife and family.’

‘He must have liked my mummy best.’

‘No question about that.’

Kate was looking thoughtful. ‘Mummy was a pretend wife?’

‘You could say that.’

‘What about his real wife? Would Mrs Hamilton-Harvey have been angry if she’d known?’

‘None too pleased,’ Mrs Lennox said drily. ‘There again the gentry have their own funny ways.’

‘Is Mr Hamilton-Harvey gentry?’

‘Lass, I don’t know anything about him but I would be inclined to say so.’

‘Thank you for telling me, Mrs Lennox,’ Kate said politely. ‘You didn’t want to and I made you.’

The woman was close to tears and to cover it up she spoke brusquely.

‘You’ve had no breakfast worth talking about and if there is one thing I cannot abide it is a child who picks at her food.’

‘The porridge will be cold now but I’ll take a piece of bread and jam, please,’ Kate said, anxious to please.

‘Bring me the loaf over and I’ll cut you a slice. Two slices, I rather fancy a piece of bread and strawberry jam myself.’

Mrs Lennox made fresh tea and they were both eating their bread and jam. ‘Kate, don’t you have someone? Didn’t your mother mention any of her family?’

‘She didn’t have anyone, I know that.’ Kate frowned and tried to think back. ‘A long time ago she told me I had an Aunt Sarah, my daddy’s sister, but she said there was no—’ Kate stopped and screwed up her face trying to remember the expression.

‘No coming and going?’ Mrs Lennox suggested helpfully.

‘Yes I think it was that.’

‘Do you know where this Aunt Sarah lives?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe the address is somewhere in the house. Look, lass, I don’t want to interfere with what is none of my business but that bureau in the sitting-room—’

‘All the furniture and everything in the house belongs to Mr Hamilton-Harvey, he told me that.’

‘I don’t doubt that’s the case but there could be papers and the like in that bureau that are yours by right. You never know, Kate, your aunt’s address could be there.’

‘Do you really think so?’

‘It’s a possibility and you won’t know if you don’t look.’

‘I won’t get into trouble if I do?’

‘How could you? There’s only you and me in the house, I don’t see anyone else.’

Kate giggled nervously. Maybe she wasn’t alone in the world after all and surely Daddy’s sister would give her a home if she made it clear she wouldn’t be any bother.

‘You think I should look and not wait and ask Mr Hamilton-Harvey?’

‘No need to ask permission, Kate. You have every right to your mother’s personal property.’

‘Even the gifts she got – from him?’

‘Even those though I was thinking more of old letters and documents.’

‘Will you come and help me look?’

‘No, Kate, you should do that yourself and take your time about it.’

‘Please come,’ Kate pleaded, ‘I don’t want to do it on my own.’

‘Very well.’ Mrs Lennox got up slowly, wishing she had taken after her father who had been as thin as a rake instead of her mother who had always had a weight problem and especially so in later years. No doubt about it, the rolls of flesh slowed you down.

Kate knew the key was in the jug on the sideboard and went to get it. Very carefully she turned the key in the lock and brought down the lid of the bureau. The lid had a leather insert with gold markings round the edge. This was where her mother had done her writing. There were little drawers down either side and one at the bottom that stretched the length of the bureau. Kate brought out this one and found it to contain documents tied together and a collection of letters in their envelopes. The one on the very top had Kate gasping. She hadn’t expected anything and here was one with her name on it. Wordlessly she showed it to Mrs Lennox who smiled as though she had known there woul