Lynne Francis - Alice’s Secret - A gripping story of love, loss and a historical mystery finally revealed

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Avon an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers

The News Building

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Lynne Francis 2017

Cover design © Alison Groom 2017

Cover image © Shutterstock.com

Lynne Francis 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.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008244286

Version: 2018-01-09

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page Alice’s Secret Lynne Francis A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Avon an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers The News Building 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollins Publishers 2018 Copyright © Lynne Francis 2017 Cover design © Alison Groom 2017 Cover image © Shutterstock.com Lynne Francis 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. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008244286 Version: 2018-01-09

Dedication To my children, for growing up and giving me the time to write.

Prologue

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

Part Two

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Part Three

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Part Four

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

Part Five

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

Part Six

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Part Seven

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part Eight

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part Nine

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Recipes

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Keep Reading…

About the Publisher

To my children, for growing up and giving me the time to write.

A lice felt the hem of her skirt getting wetter and heavier as she brushed through the bracken. This summer had been damp and it had rained hard last night. The fern fronds continued to grow and unfurl across the path, no matter how many of them passed to and from the mill each day. She hated the feel of the sodden wool against her legs. It would bother her all morning until it dried: the smell of the wet cloth, the chafing. She sighed. She’d be working in the weaving shed this morning. It would feel cold at first with the door open, and no easy way to dry off.

Alice clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders and hooked the basket into the crook of her arm. She lifted it clear of the foliage, which was still heavy with rain. Her work clogs bounced in the bottom of the basket, along with her lantern, and a crust of bread loosely wrapped in rough cloth. Her mother had pressed the bread into Alice’s hand with a brusque, ‘On your way. You’ll not get through the day without it. We’ll manage.’ Then she’d limped her way painfully to the grate to set the kettle on the hob. Alice’s brothers and sisters would have to make do with tea and porridge until tomorrow.

Tomorrow: Alice shuddered. It was the day that they lined up in front of Williams, the overlooker, as he counted the florins, shillings and pennies into their hands. She thought about how Williams used to look meaningfully at her as he dispensed the coins. He’d close her palm around them, letting his fingers linger just that moment too long. She’d been aware of his eyes following her as she moved around the mill or bent to her machine in the weaver’s shed. He’d made a point of singling her out for praise for her work, so that the other girls had noticed and teased her, making her anxious. Betty Ackroyd had drawn Alice to one side. ‘Alice, you need to watch yourself with Williams,’ she’d warned. ‘He’s got an eye for the young girls here. He don’t take no for an answer.’

Despite Betty’s warning, Alice had been unperturbed when, as she collected her lantern one evening to start the long journey home, Williams had summonsed her.

‘Alice, in here a moment,’ he’d said, holding open the door to the office. She’d stepped into the warm glow of the room, startled when the door snapped shut behind her and she found herself pinned against it. She’d tried to shut out what came next – rough bristles against her cheek and neck, panting, heat, hands fumbling at her buttons, tugging at her skirt.

She’d no idea how she had broken free. She dimly remembered Albert coming into the room by the other door – a muffled shout. She remembered fleeing up the path, no time to light her lantern, and having to pick her way home in the dark. She was stumbling, weeping, horrified –frightened of slipping off the path but more fearful of what lay behind.