Freda Lightfoot - Always In My Heart

After that, it seemed perfectly natural for them to meet up every single evening. And when he eventually stole a kiss she’d responded with eagerness, loving it when he almost lifted her off her feet to gather her in his arms. Explosions of pleasure had shot through her, almost as if she’d been waiting her entire life for this moment.

Fond as Brenda was of the city of Manchester where she’d been raised in an orphanage by nuns and still had many friends, she instantly fell in love with the beauty of Saddleworth, and the dramatic and rugged Pennine hills and moorland. She soon came to think of herself as a country girl, if working class and a bit plain and plump with fluffy brown hair. Jack, however, always regarded her as gorgeously curvaceous, and adored the twinkle in her downward-sloping brown eyes. It was certainly true that she was rather well endowed, but liked to think that her round face generally appeared cheerful, even if there was sometimes a flutter of nerves behind her eyes. How she’d loved it when he’d whispered such compliments as he kissed her. She smiled now at the memory.

They’d naturally tried to keep their feelings and meetings secret, only too aware that his family would not approve. They’d carefully avoided visiting the local villages of Trowbridge, Uppermill and Greenfield together in case people Jack knew spotted them. Much safer to remain high in the hills where few people roamed.

But then one afternoon Jack’s father, Sir Randolph, caught them together locked in the kind of clinch that clearly revealed their love for each other. Sadly, he was an ice-cold, aloof sort of man. Perhaps living as he did in this fine house with a large estate and money to answer his every need, caused him to be bossy and self-opinionated.

‘Girl, return to the kitchen where you belong,’ he’d roared. She’d spun on her heels to scurry away as fast as she could, tripping over tree roots and stones in her anxiety to escape his fury. Jack had stoutly remained where he was, clearly preparing himself for a lecture.

Brenda had found herself instantly dismissed. Jack was ordered to go to France to stay with his French mother, who’d returned to Paris some months previously on a visit to her family. She showed no sign of returning any time soon, which did not surprise Brenda, bearing in mind she had such a controlling husband. Brenda had been sorry to see her go, as it was this lovely lady who had offered her the job in the first place. Lady Stuart had been a regular visitor to the orphanage and very friendly with the nuns who’d brought Brenda up.

Jack made no protest to this plan, as he adored his mother, but instead of leaving Brenda behind he’d suggested she go with him. Brenda had been unable to speak a word of French at the time, yet loving him as she did, how could she resist the temptation?

Her time in France had felt like a real adventure to her. Memories she would nurture forever in her heart. She’d worked hard to learn the language, and happily helped Jack to care for his dear mother who was not at all well.

When war broke out they’d quickly married and enjoyed such a happy time together, until the dreadful effects of bombs and fighting took their toll, robbing her of the love of her life. Brenda’s heart still bled at the pain of her loss.

Now she was quite alone, and the events that had followed his death were a period in her life she desperately strived to block out. Returning to her late husband’s home had been a difficult decision to make, but so important. It was vital that she find her son and prayed this would provide the answers she needed. After all her efforts to resolve the issue had failed, this seemed like the only solution left.

There was no one around to welcome her, all doors closed and curtains drawn. Perhaps dear old Kit, no doubt too old now to be out working with the flock, might offer a welcome, unless he too had forgotten her. As Brenda hitched up her bag and set off again along the track, he must have recognised the sound of her footsteps for he was suddenly scampering towards her, his wittering greeting a positive warble of doggy ecstasy.

‘Hello, old boy. So you do remember me, even after all this time. How wonderful.’ Brenda went down on one knee to rub the collie’s ears, chuckling at the way his whole body seemed to wag with joy, his tongue caressing every inch of her face. Fighting back tears she smiled as she stroked him. Then hearing the crunch of gravel and the sound of heavy boots approaching, her smile quickly evaporated. Rising slowly to her feet, Brenda strengthened her resolve, as she had learned to do throughout the years of war. Surely her father-in-law could do no worse to her than what she’d already been forced to endure.

‘Good lord, so it’s you, girl.’

With relief Brenda saw that it was Jack’s brother, if sounding every bit as cold and arrogant as his father. Stiffening her spine, she took a breath. ‘Good to see you again, Hugh.’

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Brenda faced him with a shot of her well-tuned courage. ‘I believe as Jack’s wife, or rather his widow, I do have that right.’

He gave a snort of disbelief. ‘You’re claiming to have married him?’

She blinked, stunned by this response. ‘You surely knew that we married late in 1939?’ Perhaps Jack had never mentioned their marriage because he was fearful of being cut off from his family completely, in view of his estrangement from his father. Camille was constantly cautioning her son about Sir Randolph’s temper and possible reaction.

Hugh glowered at her. ‘Jack never wrote to tell us about any damn wedding, so why would I believe you?’

‘Why would you not?’

‘Because you’re a feisty little madam. Always were.’

‘Please, we need to talk.’

Lifting his head to glare up at the grey sky as rain again began to fall, he marched to a side door and flung it open. ‘Very well, you can stay tonight, and explain exactly what did happen to my brother.’

Stifling a sigh, Brenda went to pick up her heavy bag then followed him into the house along the passage towards the kitchen, which was no doubt where he thought she belonged. Every step she’d taken in recent years seemed to have led to yet more trauma. Making decisions had never been easy in the terrifying world following Jack’s death, and despite believing she’d made the right ones, it had all gone terribly wrong.

Two

France, 1940

Brenda stood washing dishes at the sink in the kitchen of her mother-in-law’s elegant apartment, quite close to the Jardin des Tuileries. Surrounded by gilt mirrors, chandeliers, glorious armoires and huge arched windows, she spent every day cleaning, washing and cooking, rarely setting foot outside except to buy food at a local market. Ever since Jack’s death a strange sense of detachment had enveloped her, leaving her largely oblivious to whatever was happening in the world. It felt as if she was living in some kind of frozen bubble, so devastated at losing him that she could barely think, let alone eat or sleep. Camille, his dear mother, was equally distraught and had largely confined herself to her room. Brenda continued to care for her, not only out of love for her husband, but felt she could never neglect this lovely lady who’d become almost like a mother to her too.

‘I thought you might like an egg custard with your afternoon tea,’ Brenda said to her now as she set a tray on the small coffee table by her chair.

‘Oh, what a lovely girl you are.’ Camille’s pale face creased with a smile in a valiant attempt to disguise the bleakness of grief. ‘I wouldn’t have the first idea how to make one of those tarts, even though it was a favourite treat of Jack’s.’

‘Mine too,’ Brenda said, with a slight tremor to her voice. ‘Let’s sit and enjoy it together, then I’ll run a bath for you before dinner. I’ve managed to find us some fish, if only a small piece of cod. But we can liven it up with some rice and tomatoes.’ There was a serious shortage of food these days, although the smartly uniformed German military were able to fully indulge their own appetites for fine meals, beer, women and dancing, no doubt viewed as a reward for their victory.