Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox

      Vicky made no move. ‘I wondered if you might be thinking of coming out to the house again.’ Her tone was unfriendly. ‘But you would not have been welcome today, any more than you were yesterday. You know how we feel about Barney staying here.’ Her expression hardened. ‘You’re the last person I would have thought to keep my husband away from us.’

      Lucy was about to reply, when Barney himself appeared. ‘Lucy has nothing to do with it,’ he told Vicky. ‘I’m staying here with a woman friend.’

      Vicky looked at him, at this stranger, unshaven and thinner than she remembered, and in his eyes there was a look she did not recognise. ‘It’s not too late,’ she told him. ‘You can still make amends.’

      Now, as Barney gazed down on her tired face, he realised the pain she had suffered, and all because of him. His head swelled with love and he wanted so much to take her in his arms and tell her that he adored her still, and that his family meant more to him than anything else in the world.

      Instead, his expression stiffened. ‘Why would I want to make amends?’ he asked cruelly. ‘These days I have no worries or responsibility. I’m free to do what I want, go where I want, and I don’t have to break my back working to keep a family.’ His smile was wicked. ‘I’m shot of all that rubbish. Yes!’ He even managed to swagger a bit. ‘I consider myself to be a fortunate man!’

      For a moment, Vicky was at a loss as to what she could say. In the end she said nothing.

      Instead she walked away and Barney fell back into the hallway, his hands covering his face. ‘God help me!’ he cried. ‘How can I do it to her? How can I be so cruel?’

      Lucy took him back into the sitting room. ‘It’s a terrible thing you’re doing,’ she said shakily, ‘but you’ve gone so far down the road and now that you’ve told me the truth about how ill you are, I can see how it might be the only way to protect and secure your family, even if it means sending them away, hating you.’

      She held him in her arms while he sobbed. ‘But you’re right, Barney. Even though what you’re doing is terrible, not only for them, but for you as well, I do understand.’

      He turned to her then, his eyes scarred with pain. ‘So am I right, Lucy?’ he asked. ‘Am I right to do what I’m doing?’

      It was some small compensation when she smiled on him, a smile that was filled with love and sorrow, and hope. ‘Yes, Barney,’ she said honestly. ‘You’re putting yourself through the worst nightmare, and at the end of it, you’ll be left without family or peace. But yes, I do believe you’re doing the right thing … for them.’

      Not for himself, she thought. Not for this darling man, who was making a sacrifice, the enormity of which she could not even begin to imagine.

      ‘Thank you, Lucy, you’re a good friend,’ he murmured. ‘So, you do think I’m doing the right thing.’ His smile was content. ‘That’s all I needed to know.’

      Early the following morning, Lucy walked with him to the quayside. From their vantage-point they watched as Barney’s beloved family clambered aboard that great ship. To see them go without him was more crippling than anything he had ever endured. What he felt now, in that terrible moment, was the most desolate feeling in the world.

      Aware that Barney must be watching them from some secret, lonely place, Leonard Maitland looked repeatedly over his shoulder for a glimpse of him. He did not spot him because, reluctant to let his family see him there, Barney was well hidden from view.

      It was only when the ship began to move out, that Barney shifted his position, the better to watch as the big liner took his family further away from him. He gave a futile wave, but they didn’t wave back. How could they?

      From the deck, Vicky stretched her neck to see if he was there. When she could see no sign of him, she returned to her cabin and there she sobbed until she thought her heart would break.

      A moment later, Susie came running into the cabin, excited about everything and, for the moment at least, seeming to forget about the man they were leaving behind.

      ‘Come quick, come and see!’ she cried. ‘Mr Maitland’s taking us all to the bridge!’ Taking Vicky by the hand, she rushed her away.

      As they ran, Vicky discreetly wiped her eyes. She was all they had now. And unlike Barney, she would not let them down.

      Later that day, when Barney was sleeping, Lucy asked Bridget to keep an eye on him. ‘I’m going up to the cottage,’ she said. ‘I think Barney would be more comfortable there. It’s been shut up since … Edward Trent came back.’ She still could not bring herself to say what had actually happened. Even though most days she visited the churchyard, it still seemed like some kind of a nightmare to her – not real, not possible.

      Bridget agreed with her, not least because she could see for herself how desperately ill Barney was and she imagined the kind of care he might need before he was back to strength. Yet she did not know the truth, that Barney had so little time left to live.

      ‘I expect the cottage will want airing,’ she told Lucy now. ‘You’ll need to light a fire, and there must be an inch of dust all over. Take what you want from the cleaning cupboard, and if there’s anything else you need, let me know and I’ll send one of the girls up with it.’

      Lucy thanked her and as an afterthought she added, ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like to keep the cleaning work; I will still need the wages.’

      Bridget groaned. ‘Ah, sure, who else would do it if you didn’t? Tillie’s gone above herself with the bookkeeping, and the girls think they’re God’s gift, so they wouldn’t dream of spoiling their delicate hands. No, the work is yours, Lucy girl, for as long as you need it. Who else would I want in me house, tell me that?’

      On leaving 23, Viaduct Street, every step Lucy took reminded her of Jamie, and Edward Trent. ‘I won’t let that monster ruin my life any more,’ she muttered, nearing the cottage. ‘I’ll make a new life here, with Barney, and I’ll care for him as long as he needs me.’

      Opening the door to the cottage, she stood looking into the tiny sitting room. Her very first and only home of her own, it had been a bright, happy place, with its chintz curtains and pretty rugs, and the little seascapes hanging on the walls.

      Swallowing a sob, she flung open the curtains and let the afternoon light flood in. Bridget was right, the whole place was covered in dust. It was covered in memories too. Memories of Vicky and her family; memories of Barney when he was fit and strong and life was wonderful, and Jamie was everywhere … toddling around the house, holding her hand, so full of love and trust.

      She wallowed in nostalgia and then she cried, and then she got on with the work. Within two hours there was a cheery fire in the grate, the furniture was shining and the place felt like home again. It was not the same as before – it could never be the same – but it was alive with memories she did not want ever to lose.

      ‘We’ll be happy here, Barney and me.’ A sense of belonging came over her as she thought of that wonderful man.

      ‘I’ll look after you,’ she murmured. ‘We’ll make use of every moment we have left. We’ll walk and talk; we’ll sit by the river and watch the birds come to drink, and in the evening we’ll laze in the garden and watch the sunset. Such plans. Such love.’

      A great sense of peace entered her soul. ‘We’ll be good for each other,’ she told the walls. ‘And maybe, even after all that’s happened, life won’t be so bad after all.’

      Later that evening, however, Barney was not so easily persuaded. With his heart and soul dented by the savage hand Fate had dealt him, he wanted only to curl up in a corner and die, for he could see little future without his loved ones.

      ‘No, Lucy.’ The two of them had been given the privacy of Bridget’s parlour. ‘I can’t move into the cottage with you. What would people say? Your reputation would be in tatters.’