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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018
Copyright © Dilly Court 2018
Cover photographs: Front © Gordon Crabb/Alison Eldred (Girl); Background © Shutterstock(ships/harbour)
Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017
Dilly Court asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
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.
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Source ISBN: 9780008199647
Ebook Edition © January 2017 ISBN: 9780008199654
Version: 2018-03-19
For Lottie Atchison, my second great-niece, with love
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
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Wapping, London, Summer 1873
Caroline Manning stood a little apart from the rest of the mourners who were preparing to walk away from her father’s grave. The interment was over, the last words of farewell to a good man had been said, and his widow, Esther, had dropped a crimson rose onto the coffin. Her face was hidden behind the dark veil of widow’s weeds, but Caroline sensed that her mother was crying. Tears stung her own eyes, but she was determined to be brave. She had loved her father dearly, but she knew that Papa would have wanted her to support the rest of the family and help her mother through the trauma of such a great loss. Max and James, her younger brothers, had been away at boarding school when their father had fallen ill and died, and Esther had travelled to Rugby with Sadie, her friend and companion, to bring them home. The boys had been brave throughout the interment, but Jimmy had broken down and sobbed when the first handful of earth fell on the coffin, and he was clinging to their mother, who was now weeping openly. Caroline could see that fourteen-year-old Max was struggling and she placed her arm around his shoulders.
‘Papa didn’t suffer, Max. He just slipped away, so Mama told me.’
Max dashed his hand across his eyes. ‘Yes, that’s what she said, but I’m going to miss him.’
‘We all are.’ Caroline gave him a comforting hug. ‘We’d best follow the others, Max. We have to get the train back to London.’
‘We’re going now, Carrie, dear.’ Esther braced her slender shoulders and led Jimmy away from the yawning chasm of Jack Manning’s last resting place.
‘I won’t be long.’
‘The train will be here soon,’ Sadie said firmly. ‘Come on, Carrie, love. Best foot forward.’
‘I said I won’t be long.’ Caroline could not help a note of impatience creeping into her voice. She had so far kept herself composed, but she was in danger of losing the cast-iron self-control that had helped her to get through the carriage ride from their home in Finsbury Circus to Waterloo Bridge Station, and the journey on the Necropolis Railway to Brookwood Cemetery. Mama had her standards and would not travel any other way than first class, even though Aunt Sadie was quite happy to use the omnibus and had even braved the Metropolitan Railway, which ran underground.
‘Come with me, Max. We’ll let Carrie have a minute to herself.’ Sadie beckoned to Max and he allowed her to take him by the hand, something that he would never have done normally.
At any other time Caroline might have smiled to see her usually strong-willed brother acting so meekly, but this was not a normal day. Sadie was no relation, but she had been with the family ever since Caroline could remember, and had become a surrogate aunt with an enduring place in their affections.
The distant sound of a train’s whistle jolted Caroline back to the present and she raised the tea rose to her lips, inhaling the delicate perfume before allowing it to flutter through the air, landing on the coffin with a gentle thud. Papa had loved tea roses and she had picked several from the garden with the morning dew still upon them, choosing the biggest and the best to bring with her on Papa’s last, sad journey. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, raising her face to the cloudless azure sky. She wondered if Papa and her two baby brothers, who had been taken by whooping cough, were looking down on her, but that was childish and, at seventeen years old, she knew better.
She picked up her black silk skirts and trudged across the scorched grass as she followed her family to the station platform. It was a fiery June day and the ground beneath her feet was baked hard. The return train journey promised to be hot and sticky and less than cheerful, and she had a sudden urge to cry out that it was not fair. Papa had been in his mid-forties when he contracted pneumonia during a business trip to the Continent. Her last sight of him had been when she had waved him off, thinking that he would return soon with news of a profitable deal. Caroline bit the inside of her lip to prevent herself from bursting into tears as she caught up with her mother, Sadie and the boys.
‘Are you all right?’ Sadie whispered.
‘Yes, of course.’ It was a lie, but Caroline held her head high as she took her mother’s mittened hand in hers. ‘We’ll be home soon, Mama.’
‘Home.’ Esther’s voice was harsh and thick with tears. ‘There is no future for me without Jack. My heart is broken and buried with him in that cold grave.’
Sadie sighed and shook her head. ‘It’s a sad time, but you’ll feel better when you’ve had a cup of tea and something to eat.’
‘Stop being so cheerful,’ Esther said wearily. ‘Leave me alone.’ She broke away from Caroline’s restraining hand and marched towards the station platform.
‘When Mama cries it makes me sad, too,’ Jimmy said, sniffing.
‘It’s all right to cry, Jimmy.’ Max slapped his brother on the shoulder. ‘Just don’t let them see you’re sad when we go back to school.’
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