The Dressmaker's Secret by Karen Dickson

Author:Karen Dickson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2021-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

They walked in silence, Lily’s few attempts at conversation met by Ned’s gruff monosyllabic replies. She felt only relief, the silence allowing her to concentrate on her thoughts. Her head ached with the day’s revelations. That her husband was nothing more than a pimp and an extortionist weighed heavily on her heart and her conscience. She felt for her poor unborn child. That he or she shared blood with such a man made her sick to her stomach and she made a silent vow that, no matter what, her child would not grow up to be like its father.

The church bells were ringing as they turned the corner into Laundry Lane, summoning the faithful to evensong. An elegant trap and handsome pony stood waiting outside the cottage, and Lily’s spirits rose. Eleanor.

Her first flush of joy at the thought of seeing her sister after so long an absence was tempered by the shame. She had thought, perhaps, that Eleanor might not want to continue the friendship, once she’d received news of Lily’s hasty marriage, so it was with some trepidation that Lily hastened towards the cottage, all the while praying fervently that she would find Doris sober.

‘Thank you,’ she told the taciturn Ned. ‘I shall be all right now.’

Colouring slightly, Ned lowered his gaze. He kicked at a clod of loose earth churned up by the pony’s hooves and cleared his throat.

‘Ma’am, Mr Elkin said I was to remain outside the door until he returned.’ He shrugged apologetically. Lily’s cheeks flooded with humiliation, but before she could protest, the cottage door flew open.

‘Lily!’ Throwing propriety to the wind, Eleanor ran into the street and flung her arms around Lily. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

‘I’ve missed you too, Miss Eleanor,’ Lily said softly. Aware that curtains would be twitching and feeling the weight of Ned’s curious stare, Lily ushered Eleanor indoors. She shot Ned a defiant glare and shut the door firmly in his face.

‘You’ve got a visitor,’ Doris slurred from where she was slumped on the threadbare sofa. ‘One of your posh customers, is she?’

‘I see you’ve met my mother-in-law,’ Lily remarked drily, bundling Eleanor through to the kitchen. She was ashamed of the squalor, the mushrooms of damp that sprouted on the bowed ceiling, the ever-pervading smell of neglect which, no matter how hard Lily scrubbed, could never be erased. At least in the kitchen she could open the door, allowing the cool spring breeze in to alleviate the musty smell.

Eleanor sat down at the kitchen table, her purple and cream striped dress with velvet cuffs incongruous in the less than salubrious surroundings. Lily busied herself making tea as an awkward silence settled between them. Doris shouted something derogatory from the parlour, which Lily ignored.

‘You’ll have to excuse my mother-in-law,’ she apologized, spooning tea leaves into the pot as she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘She likes a drink.’ She twisted her hands together, the cheap metal band on her ring finger as weighty as a millstone. ‘Thank you for your letter of congratulations.

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