Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird. Josephine Cox

start nagging me. Mal stayed and we got a lot of work done. He’s such a lightweight – he went off to bed ages ago. Hope it’s OK with you that he’s stayed? I said it was OK.’ Brian gave her one of his little-boy smiles. ‘Are you making a drink?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Aw, go on, Sis. I know you always have a hot chocolate before you go to bed.’

      ‘Not tonight, I’m too tired.’

      ‘Well, my throat’s parched, so I’m having a drink. I’ll make you one while I’m at it, if you like?’

      Molly declined. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight, then. And don’t stay down here too long. Not if you want a clear head in the morning.’ With that, she headed for the stairs.

      On the landing, she thought of her plan, and for one minute it seemed so drastic, she wondered how Mal might take it. Then she thought of Jack and how he had dumped her, and her hackles were up.

      Once in her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes. Then she sauntered into the bathroom, where she freshened up, sprayed a little perfume over her nakedness and, running a little light mousse through her hair, fluffed it up about her face. The smallest suggestion of eye-shadow. A delicate dash of lipstick, and she was ready.

      Across the landing, Mal was in the spare boxroom, fast asleep, when he sensed the duvet being lifted. Startled, he opened his eyes, and she was all over him, kissing his neck, his chest; her body writhing, warm and silky, against him.

      In the half-light from the window, he realised it was Molly, and he could hardly believe it.

      When he opened his mouth to speak, she placed her finger over his lips. ‘Do you still want to marry me?’ she purred.

      Unable to speak, Mal nodded.

      ‘Have you still got the diamond ring you bought,?’

      ‘Yes.’ He assumed he must be in heaven, that she was an angel and he would wake up any minute. ‘Are you saying you’ve changed your mind about marrying me?’ he asked drowsily.

      She smiled sweetly. ‘Why do you think I’m here . . . in your bed?’

      Mal found it hard to believe. Having her here like this, hearing her say she wanted to be his wife, was like his every wish come true. When he took her in his arms, with her words of love ringing in his ears, he was the happiest man in the world.

      If only he’d realised, that even in the throes of making love, Molly felt no affection or joy. Nor even the smallest sense of guilt for her betrayal of this kindly man who adored her unconditionally.

      What she felt was deep regret – at losing Jack. At the same time, she felt a sense of triumph, that her plan of revenge would soon be accomplished. In fact, she was determined to become Mrs Malcolm Shawncross as quickly as possible. Poor Mal was simply a means to an end. It was Jack she wanted. But first, she needed to punish him.

      And if Mal got hurt in the process? Well, that was too bad. At times like these, there were always casualties.

       Chapter Twelve

      THOMAS TOOK HIS old jacket off the hall-stand and shrugged it on. He then put on his cap and wrapped his black-and-white chequered scarf round his neck. On this bright June morning it wasn’t really cold outside, but he was taking the lovely Eileen out, and he wanted to look his best.

      She was decent and trusting, and it truly hurt him to see her the way she was. In a way, though, it was a merciful thing, he thought, because it prevented her from remembering all the bad things in her past. All the bad things that other people like him were doomed to relive time and again, through memories that were etched on their souls for all time.

      Thomas wanted to believe that Eileen had escaped that kind of torment. He himself would never have that measure of peace, because far too much had happened over the years for him to ever forget, or forgive.

      From childhood to manhood, Thomas Farraday could recall each and every regrettable thing that had been done by him and to him over the years. When, as a boy, he had been bullied at home by his father, and then at school by his own classmates, the only way he could protect himself and avoid being singled out was to turn the tables and become a bully himself.

      He was haunted by one particular incident, when a crowd of boys waited for him outside school one day, and menacingly crowded round him, intent on doing him harm. Terrified, he had reacted by tearing into them before they could start attacking him – and in the chaos, one of the boys was sent reeling backwards into the road. The car that was passing had no chance of stopping, and the boy was run over; he suffered injuries that put him in hospital for weeks. Afterwards, no one knew who had actually hit him during the scuffle, but there was an investigation and severe reprimands for all. Suddenly, bullying was a thing of the past, and no one was more relieved than Thomas. Except he still had to go home to his violent father every night, and to this day, he looked on that terrible situation as his right and just punishment.

      When he met Rose Willis, the lovely fair-haired girl who would later become his wife, it was as though everything in his life had come right at long last. The years fled by and their love grew stronger, but sadly, they were not blessed with children. That was something Thomas had longed for. To be a father who could rear his children with love and respect, to be a friend and confidante, someone who would show them the way. But it was not to be, and in time he came to accept that.

      But then later, when Rose’s mother took ill, for weeks on end he was left alone, while she travelled the considerable distance to Lancaster to be there for her ailing mother. Of course he understood, but when he suggested bringing her mother home so the two of them could take care of her together, his wife would have none of it. She claimed it was her duty to keep her mother in the home she knew and loved, and of course he had to accept that decision, but what really hurt him was that she chose to visit alone.

      When he offered to take time off from work, to go with Rose, she always refused, saying her mother was growing increasingly nervous and difficult, and that him being there would only upset her. And so, her visits to her mother grew longer, and he grew increasingly lonely, every minute of the day and night that she was away from him.

      After her mother died, his wife grew cold and distant. Not long after that, the wife he so adored was gone for ever. The cruel, empty years that followed had been crippling.

      Then one Saturday, Libby had asked if he could keep an eye on her mother, while she popped to the corner shop. Eileen had gradually gone downhill over the years – everyone had noticed and pitied her decline. So Thomas had gone next door and stayed with Eileen. She made him laugh, and when she smiled at him in that adorable, childish way, his heart came alive again.

      Libby came home to find them chuckling and having a good old chin-wag. When Thomas retired, he told Libby he would sit with her mother any time. Libby began to lean on him more and more, until one day, with his blessing and mainly to bring some much-needed extra cash into the household, she acquired a part-time job at the local supermarket.

      The day Libby began to entrust her darling mother to his care was the day that life began again for Thomas. It was also the day when he began to fall in love again – and it was a wonderful thing. Almost like being born again.

      Closing the front door behind him now, Thomas left the house to go next door to Number 20.

      Libby let him in. ‘Hello, Thomas,’ she said. ‘How are you today? I was just telling Mum that you’re taking her out for a few hours, and that she must listen to what you tell her, and stay with you at all times.’ In a lower voice she confided, ‘Knowing how she wanders off at the drop of a hat, I do worry, especially when she so loves to be near the lake.’

      ‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep a sharp eye out for her. I’ll never be more than an arm’s reach away at any given moment.’

      ‘I know that. But you didn’t mind me saying something, did you?’

      Thomas shook his