Chapters (73)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Anita Frank
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- Part One
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Part Two
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Chapter Fifty-Seven
- Chapter Fifty-Eight
- Chapter Fifty-Nine
- Chapter Sixty
- Acknowledgements
- Extract
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- About the Publisher
‘It’s not yours, is it?’ She looks directly at him. Jack holds her gaze and says nothing. ‘Oh, I’m no fool, Jack, she doesn’t see you that way, even though I think you wish she did. Your eyes linger on her long enough, but hers skid off you like skates on ice.’ He tries not to flinch; her blunt words wound deep. ‘I found a note, doing the washing. She must have forgotten to empty her pockets. Full of daft lines it was, silly frivolous things, things that would soon turn a foolish girl’s head. I always warned Jim he was sheltering her too much. Signed with a G, it was. I wonder who that could be?’ But her tone tells him she already knows. ‘So, you see, I know it’s not yours.’
‘It’s my bairn now and that’s all that matters.’
Tears fill her eyes like a flash flood, but she rapidly blinks them away. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing. Now you’d best get back out to those apples, they’re not going to pick themselves.’ She pushes herself away from the dresser and crosses to the table. Snatching up a sheet of newspaper, she whips it around a piece of fruit, the paper crackling with every fold.
Jack glances up at the silent floorboards above them, then lifts the latch of the door and is gone.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gwen
August 1945
Gwen rises the next morning with the feeling of dread weighing heavily in the pit of her stomach. As she splashes her face with water, she tries to console herself that Gordon is now merely aware she has a child. He has no reason to think Tom is the same child she warned him she was carrying – the child he instructed her to get rid of.
And yet …
She forces her fears from her mind. She hears Nora moving about in the room next door, yawning loudly, cussing when she bangs into something as she leaves to bring in the cattle. There is milking to be done. Gwen chides herself for her distraction. She is worrying about nothing. The façade she has crafted all these years with the help of Jack’s selfless gift is faultless. Let Gordon have his suspicions, there is enough evidence on show to create reasonable doubt. Even so, as she lifts the latch on her door, she cannot help wondering what Gordon looked like as child and whether there are photographs of him at Tom’s age, displayed in silver frames around the Hall. She wonders what similarities there might be.