Cover

Title page

DIANE ALLEN

Daughter of

the Dales

MACMILLAN

Dedication page

In memory of Maurice Allen,

a true Dales man

1

1

Skipton, Yorkshire, 1913

‘Get on, Bess.’ Sixteen-year-old Luke Fox snapped the reins across the back of the exhausted and sweating horse, which he had been told to take care of by Jethro, as he had handed the horse to him. All Luke could think was that he had to undertake the task of telling his mother that his grandmama was near death, as he swept his hair back out of his eyes. He was dreading having to tell her the news, but knew that it was a son’s duty to do so.

The early summer’s warm sun beat down upon him and sweat was pouring off both him and the horse as they reached their destination, Skipton High Street. He was breathless, exhausted and thankful that he had got there safely, as he fumbled with the reins while he tied the knackered steed to a safe hold along the setts of the High Street. The horse and trap had flown like the wind from his grandmother’s home at Langcliffe to Skipton, a distance of twelve miles, to where both his parents were at work in the family business, Atkinson’s department store. In a bid to tell his urgent news, he had driven the trap too hard and knew it, he thought, as he looked back at the sweating horse.

As he pushed through the shining glass-and-brass revolving doors, he was thrust into the highly perfumed shop floor of the sprawling and busy Atkinson empire. A young shop girl sniggered when Luke nearly stumbled, and then quickly corrected herself as she seemed to realize who the unsteady shopper was.

‘Where are my mother and father?’ Luke asked anxiously, correcting his apparel quickly and blushing at the shame-faced girl.

‘Up the stairs, sir. Your mother is taking a fitting and your father is in his photography studio.’ The shop girl pointed through the many rows of scarves and accessories that filled the ground floor of the most prestigious shop in the Dales.

Luke made his way past all the shoppers in their finery, who were intent on browsing the luxuries that Atkinson’s provided, sniffing at the perfumes and inspecting the latest in fur goods. With his head down, he reached the bottom of the stairs, flushed and anxious to tell his news to his parents.

‘Luke, what are you doing here?’ James Fox stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at his son, as he pondered how Luke had got there and why he was on his own.