Anna stared up at him in horror. ‘You – you don’t mean that. My father loved you, he treated you like a son.’

‘He treated me like a bloody servant!’ Edward cut her off. ‘I had to go cap in hand to them for everything, to be grateful for his charity. The only time he started to treat me with any respect was when I decided to take up with you. But even then your mother and sister still looked down their noses at me. As far as they were concerned I was the kid from the orphanage. I should have known my place.’ He looked around with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘Well, I know my place now, don’t I?’

But Anna wasn’t listening. Her mind had snagged on a few words.

‘You – decided to take up with me?’

‘How else was I going to get my hands on this place?’ He sent her a pitying look. ‘What? You really believed I’d fallen in love with you? Do me a favour! I could have done a lot better than you, believe me. I even thought about trying my luck with Liesel, since she’s prettier,’ he said casually. ‘But she’s a high-handed bitch like her mother, and I knew she wouldn’t look twice at me. But you,’ he sneered. ‘You were desperate, weren’t you? Poor, plain little Anna. I could see it written all over your face, you couldn’t believe your luck when I showed an interest in you. And neither could your precious papa.’ He gave a snort of laughter. ‘God, the relief on his face when he found out about us! I daresay he was wondering if he’d ever be able to marry you off.’

This time it was Anna who lashed out. Her hand connected with Edward’s cheek, but with nowhere near as much force as he’d struck her.

‘Get out!’ she hissed.

Edward laughed, nursing his jaw. ‘I ain’t going anywhere. This bakery was mine the day I married you. But you’re welcome to go if you want. I certainly ain’t going to stop you. It would be a blessing if you did go, then at least I wouldn’t have to put up with you whining about your bloody father!’ He leaned closer, his blue eyes glacial with anger. ‘But that sign over the door is there now, and there it will stay. I’m telling you, I’m in charge here. And there’s nothing you can do to change that!’

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

There was a week to go until Sylvia’s June wedding, and this time it wasn’t only the bride who couldn’t stop talking about it.

‘Do you think I should wear my hair up or down?’ Dulcie pushed her brown curls on top of her head and turned this way and that, admiring her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. ‘Up shows off my face more, don’t you think? But then I suppose it all depends which hat I’m wearing … Duffield, are you listening to me?’

Grace looked up vaguely from polishing her shoes. Dulcie had twisted round from the mirror to look at her.