Nancy Carson - Rags to Riches

NANCY CARSON

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

AVON

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2015

Previously published as Love Songs by Hodder and Stoughton 2000

Copyright © Nancy Carson 2015

Cover images - woman © Superfly Images 2010

Cover images - background © Everett Historical

Cover design © Debbie Clement 2015

Nancy Carson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record 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 © May 2015 ISBN: 9780008134839

Version: 2018-01-09

Contents

Cover

Title Page Rags to Riches NANCY CARSON A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright AVON HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2015 Previously published as Love Songs by Hodder and Stoughton 2000 Copyright © Nancy Carson 2015 Cover images - woman © Superfly Images 2010 Cover images - background © Everett Historical Cover design © Debbie Clement 2015 Nancy Carson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record 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 © May 2015 ISBN: 9780008134839 Version: 2018-01-09

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Maxine’s Songs

About the Publisher

‘Living in the same house as Stephen Hemming for two years hasn’t exactly been the most inspiring thing that’s ever happened to me,’ Maxine Kite admitted philosophically to Lizzie, her mother. Maxine had never spoken to her before about her love life but right now, companionable together on this special day in this unfamiliar scullery with its clean whitewashed walls, she felt a compelling need to talk.

‘So what’s wrong with Stephen?’ Lizzie asked, wringing water from a sheet she was rinsing in the deep, stone sink.

‘Oh, I’m not so sure that Stephen’s the problem, Mother. It’s me.’ Maxine stared reflectively at the brass tap that was fixed to the wall, dripping water. ‘I can’t stand his eyes following me at every turn. He makes me feel uncomfortable – as if he’s mentally undressing me.’

‘You poor soul, our Maxine. I sympathise. I can only imagine what it must be like. And yet he seems such a nice, gentle chap.’

‘Oh, he is, Mother. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He thinks the world of me, I know he does…And I like him – as a friend – he’s a good friend. But I’m not in love with him. I know he’d like me to be, but I can’t help the way I feel about him. And I don’t like him looking at me the way he does, either.’

‘But that’s just men,’ Lizzie remarked. ‘You’re a nice-looking girl, our Maxine. You’ve got lovely dark hair, a lovely trim figure. Men like pretty girls, and they’ll always turn to have a good look at those they think are worth looking at. You must expect it. Be thankful for it, our Maxine.’

‘But it’s when he sits down opposite me…I’m sure it’s only so he can look up my skirt…’

‘Men will always try to look up your frock whether or no.’

‘Yes and I daresay some girls like it when they do, if it’s somebody they fancy who’s having a peep – but I bet they wouldn’t be so keen on Stephen doing it. Whenever I go to my room to change, he always seems to be hovering – as if he’s trying to peer at me through the crack in the door. Even when I practise my cello I have to wear a long, flared skirt to hide my legs. It’s laughable really.’

‘It’s because he fancies you, our Maxine. It’s been worrying me, you and him living under the same roof,’ Lizzie declared frankly. ‘So I take it there’s been no hanky-panky.’

‘With Stephen?’ Maxine scoffed. ‘Mother, you cannot be serious. I just don’t fancy him that way. I’m not especially fond of him touching me. And that’s the trouble. In any case, his mother and father are always around. I’m lodging with them , remember. Not him. The fact that he lives there as well is by the by.’

Maxine perceived the relief in her mother’s expression at her blatantly honest response; she knew Lizzie had always worried about her precious daughters; no doubt she always would. After all, a pretty daughter and a hot-blooded man did not always create a favourable combination.

‘You don’t think you’re imagining all this?’ Lizzie queried sceptically, treating the sheets to another immersion in water so cold that it was making her bare hands tingle.

‘No,’ Maxine replied. ‘I’m not imagining it. Pansy’s noticed as well.’

‘You mean he looks up his sister’s frock?’

‘No, Mother.’ Maxine started to giggle at the unthinkable absurdity. ‘Pansy’s noticed he’s like that with me . He doesn’t give her a second glance. She’s his sister, for goodness sake…So…let’s hope I pass this audition with the City of Birmingham Orchestra. It’ll give me the perfect excuse to get away from him.’

‘Have you told him yet as you’re likely to be leaving?’ Lizzie added some hot water from the gas geyser and looked up from the white cotton sheets as she kneaded out the last trace of suds.