Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
“Of course she could,” Sarah agreed. “I’m being a bit daft, focusing on one lad. Oh, here we are; this is where I live.”
Blackie pushed open the gate and went with Sarah down the path of the small garden.
“Silly me, I’ve forgotten my key,” Sarah muttered as she searched in her handbag. She glanced at Blackie and made a face. “I’m going to have to knock on the door. My sister Angela is going to be cross, because the noise will wake my mother.”
Blackie nodded. “Just give a light tap with the knocker. I’m sure she’ll hear it.”
Sarah lifted the brass knocker and let it go, lightly so, doing as he suggested.
A moment later, her sister said, “Is that you, Sarah?”
“Yes, it is.”
The door opened and the woman standing there took Blackie’s breath away. He had never seen anyone quite so beautiful in his life. He gaped at her as he took in the gleaming light-brown hair, piled up on top of her head, eyes as blue as speedwells, and a face that was exquisite. He couldn’t take his eyes away and neither could she.
Sarah cleared her throat and took a step forward, saying as she did, “Won’t you come in for a cup of tea, Blackie? Seeing as the night ended early. And it’s turned cold.”
Finding her voice, Angela said, “Oh yes, do come in. Sarah’s right; the evening has grown cooler.” She opened the door wider and stepped back as first Sarah and then Blackie entered the house.
Once Sarah had led him into the parlor, she drew her sister forward and said, “This is Blackie O’Neill, Angela. He volunteered to walk me home because it had grown so dark. Meet my sister, Blackie.”
Blackie stretched out his hand and Angela took it. Again they were staring at each other so intently, Sarah had to clear her throat again and several times.
Swiftly, Angela let go of Blackie’s hand and moved away, saying as she walked across the floor, “I shall go and put the kettle on.”
Once they were alone, Blackie said, “I’ve never seen your sister around Upper Armley.”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t. She lives on the other side of Hill Top, and she’s not often on Town Street.”
“Doesn’t she live here with ye and yer mother?” Blackie asked, sounding puzzled.
“No, she doesn’t. She moved out when she got married.”
Blackie felt as if he had been punched hard in the stomach and an unexpected wave of disappointment flooded over him.
“Who is she married to?” Blackie managed to ask, his voice sounding hoarse to him.