Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection. Josephine Cox

through, Aggie chatted away. ‘By! It must be what – Christmas Eve when I last saw you out and about.’ She chuckled. ‘If you recall, me and Cathleen were out collecting a tree for the parlour – a huge great thing it was. We wanted it to be a surprise for Emily, so we chose the biggest one in the market. We got halfway across the street and couldn’t carry it an inch further. If it hadn’t been for you and that passer-by, I don’t know what we’d have done.’

      Lizzie found herself laughing, and she relaxed a little. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’d have managed somehow,’ she said encouragingly. ‘But I’ll tell you what. I couldn’t help but notice how like Emily your granddaughter is, and what a fine young lady she’s making.’

      ‘Aye, she is that,’ Aggie readily agreed. ‘What’s more, she’s got a lovely nature to go with her good manners.’ She paused. ‘Mind you, she can be strong-minded when the mood takes her.’

      Lizzie was curious. ‘Really?’

      ‘Oh, I’m telling you, when her and her great-grandad get started, it’s a case of who might outwit the other. They’re so alike it’s unnerving.’

      ‘How old is she now?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Five … six? She must be getting on that way by now.’ Suddenly she was hungry for information.

      Grateful that, at long last, Lizzie appeared to be taking an interest in Cathleen, Aggie happily enlightened her. ‘She’s six year old … and a few months.’

      ‘She’s at school then?’

      ‘Oh, aye! Loves it, an’ all. She’s been attending the village school for some time now.’ Aggie beamed with pride. ‘She’s especially good at drawing and painting pictures. But o’ course they don’t care much for teaching that sort o’ stuff. They like to concentrate on reading and writing and learning ’em their times tables. Still, I can’t say it bothers me, ’cause I’m a firm believer in a child learning its three Rs.’

      Lizzie wanted to know more, like had they told the child who her father was yet, and had she become aware of the lies about John being labelled the villain? But she kept all that to herself, and instead she asked after Emily. ‘And you say your daughter’s fine?’

      ‘She’s well, yes. Thank you.’

      ‘Enjoying married life, is she?’

      Aggie was a little more coy. ‘Seems to be.’

      Lizzie smiled. ‘Good.’ She owed the family an apology. ‘Look, Aggie, thank you again for inviting me to the wedding, but like I said, I wasn’t feeling too clever that day.’ It was a downright lie, and they both knew it.

      In truth, it was shame and guilt that had kept her away. Shame because she had lied, and guilt because she was the one who had split John and Emily up and driven her into marrying another man – possibly Cathleen’s father, although she might never know the truth about that.

      Since Danny had taken her as his wife, Lizzie had deliberately avoided Emily, which was such a shame, because at one time, she and the young woman had been the best of friends.

      ‘And is everything fine with you, Lizzie? I was concerned when I couldn’t seem to get hold of you. But at least you got my notes.’ Never able to catch her at home, Aggie had taken to sending her notes by way of Danny, and she always received one in return. It was a pleasing thing.

      ‘I can’t complain,’ Lizzie answered. ‘Oh, and thank you for your notes. Young Danny delivered them along with the milk. All in all, he seems a very nice young man.’

      ‘He is,’ Aggie retorted. All of a sudden, her good humour left her, and the truth of her feelings began to spill over. She had kept them locked away for so long. ‘Danny is a good husband and a good father to Cathleen, which is just as well because as we both know, the child’s own father doesn’t care enough about her to even ask after her!’ Aggie was outraged by the way Lizzie had seemed to skilfully move away from the subject of her own great-grandniece. Lizzie’s refusal to acknowledge Cathleen as part of her own family rankled deeply. It was a wicked thing, to Aggie’s mind.

      Taken aback by the ferocity of Aggie’s remarks, Lizzie retaliated. ‘John is not Cathleen’s father!’ she retorted. ‘How many times do you need to be told, before you see the truth of it?’

      ‘Oh, and what is the truth, pray tell?’

      ‘You had better ask your daughter that.’ Not wanting the conversation to degenerate into a shouting match, Lizzie stiffly bade her a polite good day and went about her shopping. The other woman let her go and this time, did not call after her.

      An hour later, Lizzie paused to take refreshment in the pretty little café on the boulevard.

      ‘Morning, love. I haven’t seen you in a while.’ Bessie, the woman behind the counter was a jolly sort with rolled-up greying hair and a wide, gap-toothed smile. ‘Been poorly, have you?’

      ‘No, just taking things easy,’ Lizzie answered cagily. In truth she had been feeling unwell on and off for some weeks now, during which time she had only ventured out whenever she needed something for the larder. Even then she was always quick to hurry back home.

      ‘What’ll it be then?’ Bessie asked kindly. ‘Tea and a bun as usual?’

      Gasping for a drink, Lizzie was thankful. ‘That sounds like a good idea, yes, thank you.’

      ‘Would you mind if I joined you?’ Bessie asked. ‘Only we’ve been that busy I’m fair worn out.’ She glanced about at the empty room. ‘Being as we’re quiet now, I thought I’d stop for a few minutes while I’ve got the chance. I could just do wi’ a cup o’ tea an’ a sit-down.’

      Though she would have preferred to be on her own, Lizzie told her she’d be glad of the company, and so the dear woman hurried away, happily bustling about and singing to herself as she went.

      While she was gone, Lizzie delved into her bag and took out a small, square envelope. Opening it up, she removed the letter inside, and read it through for the umpteenth time:

       Dear Aunt Lizzie,

       I hope this letter finds you well.

       I’m writing again, because I have some important news to tell you. You remember I told you in my last letter, of how I had joined forces with a young lady called Rosie Taylor, and how together we have gradually brought her dad’s business back to full swing?

       Well, we’ve got on so well, and found so much pleasure in each other’s company, that we’ve decided to make our vows as man and wife. It will happen in spring next year.

       I know you’ll be wondering if I truly love her, and in all honesty I can say that I could never love anyone as much as I loved Emily, and still do. But Rosie is a good, kind soul. We’re both very lonely, and since I’ve got to know her so well, I really believe we can make each other happy. We already do.

       Please come to our wedding if you can. I want you to be here. It’s been five long years since we saw each other. I really need you beside me when I get wed, and there is so much to show you, as well as so much for us to talk about.

       I’ll be eagerly awaiting your reply.

       Please say you’ll come. PLEASE.

       All my love, as always,

       John

      There was an address along with a suggestion as to the best route to take once she reached Liverpool. At the bottom of the letter, a postscript: I’ve enclosed a sum of money to put away for the time being. It will cover train and carriage, with enough left over for refreshments and such along the way.

      Lizzie sighed. You shouldn’t be getting wed to no stranger, she thought, for that was how she saw this Rosie Taylor. You should be here, son – here, wi’