Lost Dreams

by Nora Kay

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

When her mother dies, Laura Morrison is forced to give up her place at univerity to care for her father and her young brother Ronnie. She dreams of escape from the unending housework that now fills her days. But worse is to come. When her father decides to re-marry and to leave Scotland behind, he has no place in his new life for them. Laura has to find a way to support them both.
How is she to manage? With no qualifications, she can expect only a poorly paid job. Fergus Cunninhgam is the answer to Laura's prayer, she thinks. A successful lawyer, he needs someone to care for three-year-old Sylvia.
But he cannot give her security. As a housekeeper, Laura is in danger of dismissal the moment that Mr Cunningham decides to marry his glamorous girlfriend. And must she give up all her own dreams?
The Dundee Courier called this book 'an unforgettable story of love and heartache.'

Release date: September 1, 1999

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 368

Sample

The tea had been served, the best cups and saucers handed round, and hands were eagerly reaching for the sandwiches that seventeen-year-old Laura Morrison had prepared that
morning. Some were made with thinly sliced boiled ham from the grocer and some with ox tongue out of a tin she had discovered at the back of a shelf in the cupboard. Her father had used the tin
opener to open the tin. After a few false starts when he declared the opener to be useless, it did work and the tongue was eased out and put on a plate. That done, George Morrison removed himself
and offered no further assistance.

At the last minute Laura remembered that her aunts liked everything dainty and using a sharp knife she removed the crusts from the bread.

Only when she was in bed did she give way to her tears and then she wept and wept for the loss of her mother. Last night she had tossed and turned with two sodden handkerchiefs under her pillow
and sleep seemed just to have claimed her when the alarm went off. Her hand came out of the bedclothes to stifle the sound and with a huge effort Laura forced herself to sit up. A few minutes to
come to would have been so very welcome but the risk was too great. She couldn’t afford to sleep in, not with all the work she had to get through.

If she had been used to housework it would have been so much easier but her mother had made few demands other than to get her to tidy up her own room, believing as she did that her daughter had
quite enough to do with her studies. Now Laura was having to learn and learn fast. Putting on an old overall that had belonged to her mother, she cleaned out the living-room fire and got it going.
The fire in the front room was set and just needed a match put to it. She did that right away since the room faced north and took a lot of heating. Laura didn’t want any complaints about
feeling the cold. With both fires going well she started on the breakfast. The sudden, tragic death of his wife the previous week had left her father shocked, bewildered and grief-stricken but
apart from that first awful day when they had all been completely stunned, it hadn’t affected his appetite.

Uncle Sam looked at the plate of sandwiches, then raised his eyes to his niece. ‘Any with mustard?’ he asked.

Laura wondered how anyone could think of mustard at such a time.

‘No. Sorry, Uncle Sam, I didn’t think, but in any case there is none in the house.’

‘That’s all right, don’t you worry’ – as if she was – ‘this will do fine, it’s just, Laura lass, a wee thing of mustard gives it a bit of
taste.’ He smiled and she turned away.

Laura, a tall, slim, lovely girl with thick dark blonde hair that fell in soft waves, was paler than usual and there were dark smudges under her blue eyes. Her mother, her darling mother,
wouldn’t have wanted her to wear black. Her navy blue skirt and jumper would have done. But it didn’t do for the aunts who insisted that she must wear black. Too broken-hearted to
argue, she had gone to Mathewson’s in Cornhill Road and bought a cheap black skirt and black jumper. She wore them with the collar of her white blouse showing at the neck. Her long, shapely
legs were in black stockings and her narrow feet in black lacing shoes.

Aunt Peggy took a sandwich, smiled at Laura, then lifted the top to see what was inside. It must have satisfied her and she took a bite.

The house seemed to have taken on the family grief. Without her mother’s presence the front room, where they sat, looked dull. As if the life had gone from it just as it had gone from her
mother. Laura began to look about her, at the tall oak sideboard with its mirrored back, the long white starched cover that stretched the length and a bit over and in the centre of which was a
black marble clock, a wedding gift, that chimed on the half-hour. A Westminster chime, a beautiful sound, but George Morrison had opened the clock, done something to it, and the chime was no more.
Laura hadn’t seen the sense of it but wisely held her tongue. She rather thought that the suggestion must have come from one of his sisters, she didn’t think her father would have
troubled otherwise.

The room was very slightly shabby with a comfortable lived-in look though it was seldom used other than on Sundays and when they had visitors. There was a sofa in a tweed mixture of blues and
greens and six high-backed chairs in the same material. Over at the window which looked out on the quiet street was a mahogany table with long spindly legs. A plant with a cork mat under it looked
dry and in need of watering. The curtains were floral, had plenty of width and brightened the room.

Laura’s eyes strayed to her father sitting on the sofa between his sisters, Peggy and Vera. Their husbands, Peggy’s Archie and Vera’s Sam, sat in armchairs at either side of
the fire. The men wore the dark suits and stiff collars they had worn for the funeral and looked as uncomfortable as they felt. Both wondered how soon the real talking would begin and they could
get away.

The widower sat with bowed head but raised it to accept a plate on which were two sandwiches, one put there by Peggy and the other by Vera.

George Morrison was good-looking, very tall and in his early forties, and had been served hand and foot all his life. His sisters had been ten and twelve when he was born and just after his
sixth birthday their father died. The grandmother immediately gave up her house to go and live with her daughter and the three children and thus it was that George was brought up in a household of
women.

In his youth he had gone through a string of girlfriends but only Ellen had captured his heart. Orphaned early in life, Ellen had been brought up by a kindly grandmother. Her only other living
relative was a cousin in Canada, and the only contact with her had been a card at Christmas. The romance of George and Ellen was frowned on, George could do better for himself but the truth was
that the woman wasn’t born who would be good enough for George. But he, despite opposition, had gone ahead and married cheerful, capable Ellen. It was a good, solid marriage, unexciting and
without passion, but it suited Ellen and George. He went happily to his job as a minor civil servant, hoping for advancement, and Ellen took charge of everything else including where they would
live, and that was at the opposite end of the town to where her in-laws had their homes.

Laura sat down with a cup of tea.

‘Laura dear, you haven’t taken a sandwich for yourself.’

‘I don’t want one, Aunt Vera, I don’t feel like eating.’

Vera pursed her lips. She was a tall woman, a bit on the hefty side, with a narrow face and a high-coloured complexion. Her sister, Peggy, was smaller and as a girl had been pretty but the
prettiness had gone and there was a discontented droop to her mouth. She had, however, kept her figure and dressed well.

‘That will not do, Laura, it just won’t. You must look after yourself. You owe it to your poor father and young Ronnie, and speaking of the lad, where is he?’

‘Next door with Mrs Brand.’

She nodded. ‘If I recall correctly she has a lad about the same age?’

‘Yes, Ronnie and Alan play together.’

‘Poor wee soul, it’s going to be hard on Ronnie, he has always been such a mummy’s boy. I warned Ellen, warned her often, that he was too timid.’ She paused and looked
hard at Laura. ‘You’ll have to be the one to toughen him up, Laura.’

Uncle Archie spluttered over his tea. ‘For any favour, Vera, Laura has enough on her plate, she’s just a young lass herself.’ He beetled his brow, and glowered over at his
brother-in-law. ‘Time you pulled yourself together, George, and faced up to your responsibilities.’

‘I am well aware of my responsibilities, thank you very much,’ George said angrily, ‘and let me remind you that I have just lost my wife.’

‘And Laura has lost her mother.’

Laura got up. Two sandwiches remained on the plate and someone was sure to take them – pity to leave them would be the excuse. Swiftly she picked up the plate and went through to the
kitchen. Ronnie might take them with a glass of milk before he went to bed.

All the doors were open and the voices carried clearly.

‘College is out of the question but Laura is a sensible lass and she’ll realise that.’

‘I hope you’re right, Vera, but one thing is for sure she is going to be very disappointed.’

‘Life is full of disappointments, George,’ Vera said briskly, ‘Laura has to learn that. None of us has escaped, we’ve all had our share.’ She paused to look at her
brother. ‘Such a pity we don’t live nearer and speaking for myself I would have been only too happy to lend a hand and help Laura but I have my own family to think of.’ Her
eyebrows shot up as though someone had spoken. ‘Yes, I know mine are grown up but with Marie expecting her second and as for Harry, that weak chest of his is a constant worry.’ She
shook her head as though in despair.

Aunt Peggy nodded gloomily. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more supportive but Archie’s mother being so poorly I’m having to spend a lot of time with her.’ She
didn’t look at her husband as she said it or she would have seen the sheer disbelief on his face. Only recently his mother had complained to him that she got precious little help from her
daughter-in-law. ‘And as to college,’ Aunt Peggy continued, ‘I think we are all agreed that that is a nonsense. A silly idea in the first place and a complete waste, the girl will
no doubt be getting married in a year or two. I am not against a good education, far from it, but one should concentrate on the boys. After all they become the breadwinners and the more
qualifications they gain the better job they are likely to land.’

‘Now you’ve had your say, do you think I could have mine?’ Uncle Archie asked from the depth of the armchair.

‘Of course, Archie, don’t be silly,’ his wife said, shaking her head, ‘the whole purpose of this visit is to discuss what is best for George and the family.’

He heaved himself to a more upright position. ‘The way I see it, that lass has worked hard to be accepted by the college and the waste would be in not allowing her to take it
up.’

Uncle Sam nodded slowly and thoughtfully. ‘In happier circumstances I would agree with that, Archie, but these are not happy circumstances.’

‘You’re making them a deal worse by denying Laura what her mother wanted for her. What’s to hinder George getting a woman in for an hour or so each day? I’ve no doubt
Laura would buckle to and do a bit at the weekend and see to what needs to be done in the evening.’

‘How like a man to come up with something unworkable,’ his wife Peggy said sharply.

‘A bit of organising and it could be done.’

‘I couldn’t afford help in the house,’ George said, ‘so that is out. You forget, Archie, or perhaps you don’t know how expensive it would be to keep Laura at
college. There is a lot more than fares to consider.’

Archie’s face went a dull red with anger. ‘None of it was to come out of your pocket, George, I happen to know that.’ He had little time for his brother-in-law but a lot for
Laura. ‘Ellen, poor lass, had it all worked out. That money she was left was to go on Laura’s education, she was adamant about it.’

‘What about Ronnie, does he get no consideration?’ Vera said in a dangerously quiet voice.

‘There would have been no problem about Ronnie. When he was that length, Laura would have finished her studies. In any case the money for the lad’s education would have been found
somehow.’

‘Quite right too,’ Peggy came in again, she always had the most to say. ‘I’ll speak no ill of the dead but to my mind, George, you gave in to Ellen far too much. Too
good-natured you are, you should have put your foot down.’

‘I would have, but remember it was Ellen’s money.’

‘Well, it will be yours now and you’ll have a better use for it,’ she said, sounding smugly satisfied.

‘Yes, I’ve no doubt.’

No one spoke for a little but eyes went to the clock.

‘Good! I think that is more or less everything settled,’ Peggy said, preparing to get up. ‘We should get on our way now but before we do I must draw Laura’s attention to
that poor plant. Without water she’ll lose it.’ She shook her head. ‘I wonder why young people don’t notice these things?’

Laura stood in the kitchen in rigid silence and listened to her future being discussed. They didn’t care that her whole life was in ruins and she was sure that being
denied her college place would give her aunts a great deal of satisfaction. Her anger against them and her father was in danger of breaking bounds and Laura had to fight to control herself.

Everything for which she had worked so hard was disappearing, and clutching the back of the chair she closed her eyes and the memories crowded in. So clear was it all that she could recall every
word. The present slipped into the past.

Trembling with nervous excitement, she waited for the letter. It must come today, this morning, she was almost sure it would come this morning, and when she heard the rattle of the letterbox
Laura dashed to the door. The long brown envelope was on the mat, turned up to show her name. What news was in it? How had she fared? Laura’s mouth went dry and her heart began to hammer.
Slowly she bent down to pick it up, read her own name and address, checked the postmark and knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. Her hand was shaking as she forced herself to open it. The
flap came away after a little persuasion and she drew out the single page. The words blurred then cleared and Laura let out a huge sigh, then gave a great whoop of delight.

‘Mum! Mum! It’s come,’ she shouted and ran into the kitchen where her mother was busy at the sink.

‘What is it?’ Of course she knew and her daughter’s face told her the rest.

Laura found she couldn’t speak and wordlessly held out the letter.

‘Let me get my hands dried before I touch it.’ She quickly dried them on a towel, took the letter and began to read it. Her face broke into a broad smile.

‘Congratulations, Laura, darling. Of course you’ve got a place, I never doubted but that you would be successful and I’m just so proud of my clever daughter.’ She held
out her arms and mother and daughter hugged one another. ‘A college education is what I dreamed for you and now it is to happen.’

‘Thanks to you, Mum,’ Laura said quietly, ‘you had a fight on your hands, Dad was dead against me staying on at school.’

‘That’s true, but my dear, you have to make allowances for your father. All his life he has been influenced by those sisters of his. Sour grapes, really, none of theirs had the
brains to go on to college.’ She smiled and shook her head. ‘You owe me nothing,’ she said quietly, ‘my reward and all I’ll ever want is to see you make a success of
your life.’

Laura swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Whatever you say I do owe you everything and one day, I promise, I’ll make it up to you. No, Mum,’ as her mother made to speak,
‘let me finish and say what I have to while we are alone!’

Ellen Morrison’s brown eyes were soft with love. She was a pleasant-faced woman of medium height with a clear complexion and a smile that lit up her face. She sat down at the kitchen table
and poured tea for them both. Laura sat down too and brought the cup in front of her.

‘Great-grandma meant that money for you and to be used to make your life easier.’

‘I’m perfectly happy with my life.’

Laura ignored the interruption. ‘Instead of which it is going towards my education and then, as if you didn’t have enough to do, you have been taking in sewing to make extra
money.’

‘A labour of love.’

‘I caused a lot of problems, I do know that. You and Dad were often at loggerheads, he thought that I should have got a job when I was fifteen.’

‘That’s true enough but your father and your aunts are not alone in their opinion that education, higher education I mean, is wasted on a girl, particularly a lovely girl like you
who won’t want for admirers.’

‘I’m not interested in marriage.’

‘Of course you are but you are wise enough not to rush into it. Enjoy your independence, my dear.’ She paused to lift her cup and take a drink of tea. ‘You are just so lucky
that this is nineteen thirty-two and women are not so backward at coming forward.’

Laura giggled. ‘Mum, you were never backward.’

‘No, and you are a lot like me. As I said, enjoy your time at college and the independence it will give you, then set your sights higher than the young men around here.’

‘You do have high hopes for me.’

‘I do.’

‘What about Ronnie, what are your plans for him?’ Ronnie was nine, a quiet, timid boy with no interest in games or sport of any kind but a clever lad who was seldom seen without his
nose in a book.

‘Ronnie will go on to university.’

‘Dad won’t object?’

‘Oh, no, far from it.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t say this, Mum, but Dad doesn’t seem to have a lot of time for Ronnie.’

‘Only partly true. I didn’t give him the son he expected. His son should have loved to kick a ball about, be fond of sport, then they would have had something in common,’ She
paused. ‘Even so, seeing his son top of his class makes him very proud and so it should.’

‘I’m glad you fought my corner.’

‘I’m a fighter, Laura, and in the end—’

‘You usually get your own way,’ Laura finished for her.

Her mother went quiet. ‘Yes, very often I do get my own way but it isn’t an attractive trait in a woman, I have to say that, Laura.’ Then she added and sadly, Laura thought,
‘In some marriages it is necessary for the woman to lead and take the decisions. The clever wife manages it without it being obvious, I’m not sure if I come into that
category.’

‘You do, Mum.’ They exchanged glances and there was complete understanding.

How long she had been standing there Laura could not have said but at last she opened her eyes and determinedly blotted out the past. She was in no hurry to go back and face
them but there was a limit to the time she could remain in the kitchen. Laura took a grip on herself and went through.

‘There you are, Laura, I was just about to come through,’ Aunt Peggy said with false heartiness. ‘Do you want a hand with the dishes before we go?’

‘No, thank you, it won’t take me long.’

Her thin lips moved into a smile that was meant to be sympathetic and full of understanding. ‘Such a sad time and difficult decisions to be made, we have been discussing what would be
best—’

‘Best for whom, Aunt Peggy?’

Her aunt looked decidedly put out. ‘Best for your father, your brother, best for the three of you.’

‘Why wait until I was out of the room to discuss my future?’

‘You overheard or perhaps you were listening?’

‘Since all the doors were open and you weren’t exactly whispering I would have had to plug my ears with cotton-wool to keep from hearing.’

Uncle Archie laughed, then smothered it in a cough.

‘No call for impertinence, Laura, which is what that is.’

‘I’m sure Laura didn’t mean it that way,’ Uncle Sam said, giving Laura a sharp look. ‘Peggy, you should remember that she is just a young lass.’

‘Old enough though to take over the running of the house.’ Laura sounded bitter and there was an appalled silence.

Aunt Vera broke it. ‘That is a terrible attitude to take, Laura, I am deeply disappointed in you and this must be very distressing for your poor father.’

Laura did feel some shame, she shouldn’t be so selfish, shouldn’t be thinking of herself at a time like this, but they made her so angry and she was almost certain that her mother
would have approved of her sticking up for herself and not letting her aunts dictate. What business had they to interfere since they weren’t going to put themselves about to help? And as for
her dad – she looked over at him with a mixture of affection and exasperation – he was so weak, always taking the easy way out. Without his wife to make the decisions Laura knew that he
would once again fall back on his sisters.

There was an uncomfortable silence as they got their coats and prepared to depart but before reaching the door Uncle Archie gripped her arm and said softly and apologetically, ‘Sorry,
lass, I did my best.’

‘I know you did and thanks.’

‘Don’t give up, maybe there is a way,’ he said, but in a voice that gave little hope.

Aunt Peggy, putting up the collar of her coat, turned back to speak to Laura. ‘You could give that plant at the window some water, it badly needs it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Take it to the sink, give it a good soak and be sure there is no water left in the bottom of the pot.’ She smiled. ‘Plants don’t like their feet wet, Mother used to say
that.’

‘That goes for the rest of us too,’ Uncle Sam said as he shrugged himself into his overcoat. He waited for the others to laugh, no one did.

George stood at the front door to see them off.

‘George,’ his sister gave him a peck on the cheek, ‘try and get a good night’s sleep and we’ll be in touch.’

Vera gave him a hug. ‘Always remember, George, you have us.’

Laura stood well back. The door was shut and she breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Dad, I’ll go round for Ronnie.’

‘Yes, you had better, and Laura —’

‘What?’

‘You’ll need to put out my navy suit and a clean shirt, a white one. I could have done with another day or two, so much to see to, but this is all I’m allowed.’

‘Better working, Dad, keep your mind off things.’

He sighed and loosened his tie. ‘Yes, that’s the general idea, isn’t it? My black shoes, Laura, put black shoe polish on them before you go to bed then polish them in the
morning with a brush and then a polishing cloth. Your mother always did that.’

‘I’ll get Ronnie,’ she mumbled as she went through the kitchen and out the back door.

Mrs Brand opened the door to her knock. She was a good-natured woman in her late thirties with a sweet face and small eyes that disappeared when she laughed which was often.

‘Come in, Laura. If your face is anything to go by it was awful,’ she said, leading the way into the living-room and all but pushing Laura into a chair. ‘The pair of them are
in Alan’s bedroom playing Snakes and Ladders or Ludo, quite happy anyway, so if you want to talk, then talk. Bert won’t be in for an hour yet. I’m not going to
ask—’

‘Mrs Brand, have you ever felt like murder and that’s a terrible thing to say with my mum just—’ Her voice broke but she swallowed hard. She’d wept into her pillow
every night since her mother died and tonight would be no exception. Until then, however, she would stay dry eyed.

‘Often. Some folk should have been drowned at birth and those two aunts of yours among them. Many’s the time your mother has come in here after they’d been and not known
whether to laugh or cry.’

‘Mrs Brand, I’m having to give up my college place,’ Laura said quietly.

‘No!’ She looked shocked.

‘Yes, I’m to stay at home and keep house for Dad and Ronnie.’

Mrs Brand had been standing but she sat down abruptly. ‘That’s a crying shame and the last thing your mother would have wanted.’

‘Dad says he can’t afford to get anyone in but I know we could manage if he would do his bit.’

‘Not often I didn’t agree with your mother, Laura, but I have to say she ruined your father. Bert doesn’t consider himself hen-pecked but he does see to the fire and getting in
the coal and he’s not above doing other jobs when it’s necessary.’ She warmed to her subject. ‘Start as you mean to finish. Don’t just do things because your mother
did. Take my advice and let your father clean his own shoes, Ronnie’s too for that matter.’

Laura gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Some hope. I’ve already got my instructions even to how he likes his shoes cleaned and polished.’

‘Once you start something it’s difficult to stop.’

‘Suppose you’re right,’ Laura said gloomily but seeing no way out of it.

‘It shouldn’t be impossible for you to go to college, you’ve worked hard and that should count for something.’

‘Not with my father,’ Laura said bitterly, ‘he couldn’t care less about college, as far as he is concerned higher education is for boys but not for their
sisters.’

‘If it would help Ronnie could stay here until you got home.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Brand, you’re a gem, Mum always said so, but I’m afraid college is out.’ Her voice faltered. ‘Uncle Archie did his best for me but his was just a lone
voice.’

‘Nice to have someone on your side even though it doesn’t do any good.’

After seeing Laura and Ronnie out, Mrs Brand was thoughtful. Ellen Morrison’s death had greatly upset her, particularly as she believed it could have been prevented. Always so concerned
about her family’s health but careless about her own. She had got caught in a deluge and been soaked to the skin but instead of immediately changing out of wet clothes she had prepared the
meal rather than have it late. A few days in bed and she might have fought off the chill that followed but she wouldn’t give in and had paid the price. Now there were two motherless children
and their father who wouldn’t be much help.

She had to smile remembering her own weakness. George Morrison could make her own heart quicken and her colour would rise when he smiled at her across the hedge that separated the houses. She
didn’t see Laura’s father being alone very long. Selfish and impossible he might be, indeed he was, but few women could resist a handsome face, his brand of charm, and that beautifully
modulated voice that made her for one go weak at the knees.

Having these thoughts, Joan Brand occasionally felt guilty and sometimes wondered what plain, ordinary Bert would think if he could read her thoughts and her longings, but then maybe plain,
ordinary Bert had his own dreams, his secret desires, and provided they were hidden from each other and kept that way where was the harm?

The marriage of George and Ellen had surprised a great many women. What had he seen in her, they asked each other. She wasn’t even pretty, attractive perhaps but no more than that. No one
could see it lasting, two maybe three years they gave it but they had been proved wrong. George, as far as anyone knew, had never looked seriously at another woman. Joan Brand was of the opinion
that George liked to be mothered and Ellen had excelled in that role.

As to Laura she had come out of it very well. She had her father to thank for her good looks and her mother for her nice nature.

Miltonsands, where the Morrisons lived, was a small, attractive seaside resort on the east coast of Scotland with a good golf course that brought in the visitors. Men in
plus-fours were a common sight in Miltonsands and the miles of safe sandy beach made it popular with families. Hotels and boarding-houses were booked up for most of the summer months and those who
had a room to spare and the need of a little extra money took in those who couldn’t pay the higher prices. Most of the shops were on the High Street which stretched the length of Miltonsands
and all made enough in the summer to make up for the dearth of visitors in the winter.

Home for the Morrisons was 9 Fairfield Street which was a street of terraced houses. They had all been built to the same design. Two rooms downstairs with a good-sized kitchen off the
living-room which held a table and chairs, and in the Morrison household breakfast was taken there as well as cups of tea. Main meals were served in the living-room. The front room was
square-shaped with a double window and used only on Sundays and when there were visitors. Upstairs consisted of three bedrooms and a bathroom. The bathroom had a white bath with clawed feet and
linoleum on the floor. The largest bedroom which wasn’t large at all held a double bed, a wardrobe, a small dressing-table and one chair – someone had to sit on the bed. The other two
had a tight squeeze to fit in a single bed, a single wardrobe and a small chair.

The wind howled, it was bitterly cold, and Laura hurried her young brother from one back door to the other. Before she could turn the knob to get them inside, Ronnie had clutched at her arm and
Laura turned in surprise.

‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ She saw his white, strained face.

‘You won’t go away and leave me, will you?’ he whispered fearfully.

‘Why would I do that? What made you ask such a thing?’ Laura said, shaken at his obvious distress.

‘I’m frightened, Laura. Why did Mum have to go and die?’ His brown eyes, his mother’s eyes, were wide and anxious.

She hugged him, thinking how little and frail he was. ‘I don’t know, Ronnie,’ she said gently.

‘She wouldn’t have wanted to go away and leave us?’

‘I’m sure she wouldn’t but God must have decided He wanted her in heaven.’

‘He won’t want you, will He?’

‘Not for a very long time.’

‘Promise me,’ his fingers dug into her arms with all the desperation of a nine-year-old boy needing reassuran