‘You really don’t understand, do you?’ Kitty said. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone. It would only make things worse – and anyway, I don’t want to leave. I could never leave Richard. If this is the only way I can be with him, then I’ll put up with it for as long as it takes.’

Maggie stared back, feeling at a complete loss. It appeared that Richard Fitzherbert had bound Kitty with invisible threads, and until the girl could see him for what he really was, there was nothing Maggie could do to help her. The trouble was, by then it could well be too late. Far too late.

Chapter Forty-Three

‘George?’ Cissie gulped to clear her throat. Her husband looked up from the newspaper he was reading in their kitchen. It was a beautiful balmy evening and through the open doorway they could hear the sound of the birds in the trees.

‘Yes, pet, what is it?’ He’d known for a while that something was troubling her, and was relieved that she now seemed ready to speak about whatever it was.

Cissie meanwhile was trying to choose her words carefully, and as she thought of their depleted savings, guilt gnawed away at her like a hungry woodworm.

‘I, err … I was thinking about what you suggested earlier – about us taking a little holiday. I think it’s a lovely idea, but the thing is … I’ve used some of our savings.’

Relief flashed in his eyes. ‘Is that all? Well, you’re entitled to, my lovely. What did you spend it on – a nice new dress or hat?’

‘No, nothing like that.’ Cissie twisted the piece of huckaback she had been drying the dishes with into a knot. ‘The truth is, I helped Hugh out – again.’

George frowned. Since meeting the man, he’d been making enquiries about him in the town and nothing he had learned was good. No one had a kind word to say about him. He was workshy, a drunkard, a bully and a gambler. George, however, had not shared any of this information with Cissie. She clearly adored her son, and after all the years of being apart she was determined to see only the good in him. George secretly doubted that there was any good, but he would not have hurt her for the world so he had kept his own counsel. Now, however, he asked, ‘How much have you helped him out?’

Cissie licked her dry lips. ‘About twenty-five pounds up to now and he called by yesterday to say that he needed more.’

‘Twenty-five pounds!’ George was horrified. ‘But why the hell would he need that amount of money?’

Cissie’s eyes were brimming with tears. She would not admit that she was a little afraid of her own son, but she was. ‘Well, he’s been kicked out of his lodgings by all accounts and he has to live, doesn’t he? He says that his adoptive parents won’t help him any more – and I am his birth mother, after all.’ She faltered to a stop as George shook his head.