Josephine Cox - Born Bad

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2009

Copyright © Josephine Cox 2009

Josephine Cox asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9780007221172

Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780007290048

Version: 2019–07–12

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‘This is vintage Cox. Passionate and touching, an irresistible read. It’s a perfect book to while away an afternoon. Just make sure you hide Born Bad away from your mum and grandmother because they’ll love it too’

News of the World

‘The latest emotionally charged story from the mega-selling author won’t disappoint her army of fans’ Bella

‘Cox’s talent as a storyteller never lets you escape the spell’

Daily Mail

‘Another masterpiece’ Best

‘A born storyteller’ Bedfordshire Times

‘Any regular readers of Josephine Cox will tell you that the second you start to read one of her books you are actually living the scenario along with the characters’

Sue Brunton

This book is for my Ken, as always

To all the caring people in my life;family, friends and business colleagues,I give my wholehearted thanks and huge love

For my lovely sister Win who has showndetermination and courage in a difficult situation.Love you loads, sweetheart, take care, Josie x

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Praise for Josephine Cox

Dedication

Epigraph

PART ONE Weymouth, July 1956 Love Hurts

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

PART TWO Bedfordshire, Autumn 1956 Man and Boy

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

PART THREE Bedfordshire, Autumn 1956 Strangers

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

PART FOUR Fisher’s Hill, Autumn 1956 Dangerous Love

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

PART FIVE Bedfordshire, Late Autumn 1956 The Price of Sin

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Keep Reading

About the Author

Also by the Author

About the Publisher

Weymouth, July 1956

Love Hurts

HARRY BLAKE FELT as though he was the last man on earth. It was a lonely, disturbing feeling.

In this rare moment of quiet, the long-ago memories were like moving pictures in his tortured mind; vivid, aching memories of love and loss, of pain and joy and the people and places that had shaped his life so far.

Even now, in this moment of solitude, with the soothing throb of the ocean in his ears and the bright sunshine bouncing off the water, he could not rest easy.

Today was one of those perfect July days when the heart soars and dreams are allowed.

But not for Harry . Not today. Maybe never again.

All about him, ordinary people were enjoying their ordinary lives. Above him, the seagulls mewed and swooped, and sounds of laughter echoed across the sands. Harry was oblivious to all of that.

This was a day for families, a day for fun and being together. But not for him, and not for her . No amount of laughter or sunshine could change what was happening in his life.

He had no say in the events unfolding. Events which, in a few short months, had changed his world – and that of his loved ones. Only once before had he felt so lost and alone, and that was many years ago when he was a fresh-faced lad of eighteen.

Back then, he had made a decision which had haunted him ever since; a hard decision, forced on him by youth and circumstance. Because of his decision, lives had been fractured – including his own – and for that he would always blame himself.

Today though, he was caught up in a completely different nightmare. This time, he had played no part in its creation, because unlike before, he had no way of influencing the outcome. This time, it was all too final. Too cruel.

Deep in thought, his gaze absentmindedly followed the sailing-boats. Wending their way through Weymouth Harbour, their tall white sails billowing as they thrust along on the crest of a gentle breeze, they were a magnificent sight.

Vaguely aware of the playful children building castles in the sand, a kind of rage cut like a blade through his heart. She should be here, he thought. Sharing it all with us.

He could see her now, the chocolate-brown hair and the pretty dark eyes that crinkled in the corners when she laughed, her long slender legs swinging as she perched on their garden wall, and her smiling eyes uplifted to the sunshine.

Sara was a good woman, a woman of kindness and humour, and now, for reasons he would never understand, something had happened. It was happening right now, at this very moment. Relentless and unforgiving, it would go on until the end.

Nothing he could do would halt the inevitable.

‘Daddy!’ The little boy’s voice cut across his dark thoughts. ‘Please may I have an ice cream?’

Composing himself, Harry turned and nodded.

Excited, the boy jumped up and down. ‘And can I have strawberry sauce?’

‘Go on then.’ Harry wondered at the way life could still go on, when inside, his world was falling apart. ‘Here’s a shilling. Try not to get it all over your shirt.’