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Back The Dazzle of the Light Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Praise for Georgina Clarke
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. Historical Note
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Also by Georgina Clarke
  54. About the Author
  55. Copyright

Up ahead, coming towards them, is a young woman, little more than a girl, pushing a skeletal man in a bath chair along the pavement. It bumps and squeals as it moves, the iron wheels dropping into every hole and crack, causing evident distress to the man. He has no legs. Harriet swallows, lowering her eyes, unable to look at either the man or the girl who pushes him along.

‘Spare us some change?’ the girl asks as they step aside to let them pass.

Harriet clutches her handbag.

Jimmy rummages in his pocket and pulls out some coins. ‘Where were you?’ he asks the man in a quiet voice.

‘Ypres.’

Jimmy presses the coins into his hands. ‘God bless you for it.’ He glances at Harriet, dropping his eyes to her handbag.

‘Of course,’ she says, flustered. She pulls off her gloves and opens her handbag to find her purse. She has no idea how much to give to the girl. Half a crown, perhaps? She hands it over with a weak smile.

‘Thanks, miss. Much obliged to you.’

The sad pair trundle on, the girl pushing hard on the handles of the chair.

‘Poor bastard,’ Jimmy mutters, under his breath.

‘He came home,’ Harriet says, watching them.

‘To what sort of life, I wonder?’

She has no answer. She drops her purse back into her handbag and snaps it shut.

‘Well, there’s a diamond, if I ever saw one,’ Jimmy says, indicating her engagement ring. She has forgotten to remove it. ‘I’ve seen eggs smaller than that.’

‘Oh, heavens, my ring.’ With haste, she pulls the handkerchief from her pocket. ‘Please don’t breathe a word, Jimmy,’ she says, in a state of agitation. ‘Mr Pickford mustn’t know. Please don’t say anything.’

‘Of course not. Not my business. Who’s the lucky man – do I know him?’

‘I don’t know. You’ll have heard of him, possibly. People have.’ She wraps the ring in the handkerchief and folds it over and over until it forms a small square. ‘His name is Ralph Christie. He’s an old friend of the family. But really, please don’t say anything. I’ll have to leave my job when I marry – in July – but I’d rather like to keep it until then. I’m sure Mr Pickford would be glad of an excuse to get rid of me sooner.’

They reach the doors of the Kensington Gazette and the doorman lets them in.

Harriet pushes the folded handkerchief into her coat pocket.

She does not see the troubled look on Jimmy’s face as they climb the staircase together.

40

40

Wednesday, late morning