Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection. Josephine Cox

and I wanted it to be right for Rosie. She’s a good woman, as you well know. What! If it hadn’t been for her, I doubt we’d have a business at all.’

      Archie had his own thoughts on that but he brushed them aside, as he asked hopefully, ‘I know it’s early, and I know it’s Sunday, but there’s a friendly landlord who might just serve us with a pint of good ale, to celebrate the forthcoming nuptials. What d’you say to that?’

      John liked the idea. ‘I say we should pay this friendly landlord a visit.’ And that was exactly what they did.

      The wedding took place on 1 March, at St Peter’s Church in Liverpool. It was a cold day, but with a welcome smattering of sunshine. The church was packed, and it seemed that everyone the couple knew had turned out to wish them well.

      There was Archie as best man, all done up ‘like a penguin’, as he aptly put it. Then Rosie’s family: her father, Lonnie, a large-boned man who hid the pain of his physical disabilities behind a warm, proud smile, and her older sister, Rachel, who with her long fair hair and brown eyes looked uncannily like Rosie, but without the smiling eyes and sense of mischief.

      Harriet Witherington was a guest of honour, looking grand and very overcome, her hankie at the ready for when the emotion of the occasion became too much.

      Michael Ramsden lingered at the back of the church, his mind on his own wife and family, and the need to go home becoming stronger with every passing day.

      The congregation kept arriving: the eight men who had been given work by John and who had come to admire and respect both him and Rosie for the honest and good people they were; and with them they brought their families, who also felt a need to wish the happy couple well on their special day. Two public-house landlords turned up, expressly to witness Archie in his unlikely role as ‘best man’. They were followed by many other townsfolk, who packed the church. Everyone loved a good wedding, and they all knew of John Hanley’s story – how he beat the big boys and bought the derelict site at auction, then turned it into a thriving place of work.

      The bride looked very fetching in her long white gown, with its high buttoned neck, tiny waist and swirling hem, and pretty tight sleeves culminating in an extravagant lace frill at the wrist. Her long fair hair was piled on top of her head and loosely draped in a veil of silk, cascading from a mother-of-pearl headdress.

      Everyone agreed that Rosie looked beautiful. But the most beautiful part of all was her smile, for she had come to love John very deeply, and this was the day when, in the eyes of God and the world, he would take her as his wife: ‘To love and to cherish from this day forth, till Death us do part.’ Strong words, for a strong love. She knew John had loved before, and she had long suspected that he still felt great affection for Emily Ramsden.

      When they first became good friends, before the friendship turned to love – at least on her part – John had begun to confide in her; not all of it, but enough for Rosie to realise that for whatever reason, he had walked away from the girl he adored. Once he and Rosie had decided to get married, he would not be drawn on the subject. So because she needed to, Rosie came to believe that he had finally got over that first, special love. She didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know what the answer might be.

      Keeping her gaze on the man who was about to become her husband, Rosie walked slowly down the aisle, pacing herself with the man who walked arm-in-arm with her – her father, of whom she felt so proud. Her hero.

      Leaning ever so slightly against her as he took each careful step up the aisle, Lonnie Taylor was determined to walk his daughter right up to the altar where her future husband waited. Situated at the top pew to reassure him was his bath-chair, where he would sit during the service.

      Behind them came the older sister, Rachel, dressed as maid of honour in a pale blue gown and carrying a pretty posy of pink and white tulips, to match those of the bride.

      And right there in pride of place next to Harriet, was Lizzie.

      Having travelled up from Salmesbury and spent a couple of nights at Harriet’s, getting to know her, and rejoicing in John’s company, she was refreshed and smart in her new outfit of long coat and matching hobble skirt that finished at the ankles and allowed the merest sighting of her brand new, black boots. The only problem was, the left one pinched so badly that she had to keep wiggling her toes to keep the blood flowing. ‘Take it off!’ Harriet whispered. ‘I’ll bend it about a bit. It’ll be all right then.’

      Hoping no one could see, Lizzie unhooked the half-dozen buttons with the button-hook hidden in her little reticule, slipped it off and, true as her word, Harriet ‘bent it about a bit’. When Lizzie surreptitiously eased it back on again, it was much more comfortable, and she was able to watch the service in relative comfort, though she secretly vowed that the minute she got back to Harriet’s, she would exchange the boots for the comfy old shoes she had travelled up in.

      Harriet herself was looking neat and tidy in an oyster-grey skirt, the wide belt with its silver buckle emphasising her considerable bosom. The bushy iron-grey hair was scooped up and rammed out of sight beneath a straw boater with an oyster-grey silk band and huge jet hatpin. Archie’s eyes had gone out on stalks at the magnificent sight of her!

      The service was conducted by a frocked priest who, when it was over, blessed the newlyweds and led them to the vestry, where they signed the register as man and wife.

      Afterwards, when they emerged into the bright March daylight, everyone shouted and laughed and threw rice, before setting off on foot or climbing into their carriages to be whisked off to the grand inn on King Street, where the celebrations were soon under way, with the invited and the uninvited mingling to drink to the couple’s happiness, and dancing until late.

      In the ornamental garden at the back of the inn, hung with Japanese lanterns for the occasion, Rosie told John how happy she was. ‘You do love me, don’t you?’ she asked nervously. The feeling that he would rather be somewhere else was haunting her.

      John thought she looked lovely and told her so. He took her in his arms and kissed her softly, and whispered in her ear, ‘Of course I love you.’ And he did. But not in the same way he had loved Emily – though he didn’t tell Rosie that much. He was too fond of her ever to hurt her. That would be too cruel. She was his wife now, and he would care for her and look after her.

      Yet for him, there would always be something missing.

      ‘I know you can’t love me in the way you want to,’ she told him with understanding, ‘but it won’t matter. We have all the time in the world.’

      Sliding his arm about her slim waist, he walked her to the pond. ‘I do love you,’ he said honestly. ‘There are things I want to tell you, but I can’t, not yet. Though like you said, we have all the time in the world and we’ll use it to get to know each other, as well as any man and wife can know each other. The kind of love you deserve will follow, I’m sure.’

      ‘We’ll make it happen!’ she murmured, nibbling his ear. For now she was content to know he loved her enough to take her as his wife.

      ‘We will,’ he said. ‘With the help of God, we’ll make it happen.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘Meanwhile, Mrs Hanley, we have guests to tend, and Harriet’s beautiful cake to cut.’

      As they walked back to the guests, John could not deny there was a certain sadness in his heart. But when he walked through the door and everyone turned their heads to look at them, his handsome, ready smile gave nothing away. Instead, when the music started, he took his wife by the waist and waltzed her across the floor.

      Before they, too, paired up and joined the dance, the guests allowed the bridal couple a few minutes on their own, during which time they held each other and seemed for all the world like two people deeply in love.

      Lizzie knew the truth. She watched them for a long time, praying that her anger and lies had not ruined four young lives.

      ‘We’ll have to leave soon,’ John told Rosie, taking her aside. ‘We need to get moving before it grows dark.’

      Rosie