Her Wartime Secret by Emma Hornby

Author:Emma Hornby [Hornby, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473591264
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2021-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

THE FOLLOWING DAYS trotted along without hiccup. There were no more slips of the tongue to outsiders, no mistakes, no suspicion. Moreover, there had been no further visits from the police, much to their relief. It seemed that wherever the authorities reckoned James could be hiding out, it wasn’t at home. Nonetheless, the family remained vigilant, would have been foolish not to. To let their guard down would have been inviting trouble, they knew. All the same, it was a relief to finally allow their frayed nerves a bit of a holiday. They just prayed that things would continue to flow as smoothly as they were doing up to now.

The only bug in the ointment was the increasingly fragile subject of money. James despised the fact that his wife had had to take on a second job to supplement their household income, and it had begun to affect his mood. Now, it wasn’t so much memories of war that plagued his mind, he admitted, but instead crippling emasculation. However, there was no question of altering things for now; life was how it was, and Janie told him so. Yet it did little to stem his pain of inadequacy or stop her feeling rotten for his predicament.

This morning, however, she’d determinedly put their problems to one side. This nineteenth day of June was a significant one – her son’s sixteenth birthday. She was adamant that they would mark the occasion, if not with a party and fancy gifts, then at the very least with peace and love, as it deserved to be.

By, but it didn’t seem two minutes since she was bouncing her firstborn on her knee, she reflected as she made the short journey to Seymour’s home on Bridson Lane. It fair brought a tear to her eye to think on it. It seemed she’d blinked, and poof – the years were gone, melted away like smoke. How strange to think he was almost fully grown now, with a child of his own on the way. Just where did time go at all?

She still wore a nostalgic smile as she parked the twins’ pram beneath the front window and lifted the chubby bundles into her arms. And her gladness grew, a feeling of tranquillity coming over her again along with it, when she entered the house.

The grocer’s home wasn’t what you would call grand, yet it possessed a quiet charm that pleased her senses in ways she hadn’t the words to describe. Stuffed with dark Victorian furniture and odds and ends that had seen better days, it was nevertheless welcoming in a sentimental sort of way. It evoked within her fond memories of weekend visits to her grandparents’ dwelling as a child – though, here, there was one marked difference that set it apart: reading matter.

There were bookshelves squeezed into every available corner; some tall, some short – all filled to overflowing with row upon row of publications in a varying array of styles and subjects. Ancient-looking tomes bound

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