More Than Riches Read online

  More Than Riches

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Part Two

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Copyright

  For darling Anita.

  I have shared my joys with all of you who read my books; and there are very many of you now. I have spoken of my sister, Anita, through previous dedications, and on many occasions when I have travelled the country to meet all of you. Now sadly I share a great sorrow with you. I have to tell you that our Anita is gone from us, at the tender age of 36 years.

  Those of you who know me, will know how precious my family is to me. Anita was the baby of ten brothers and sisters. In my grief, something happened that tested my faith. Something stranger happened to strengthen it.

  On the afternoon when the priest received Anita into God’s house, where she remained until the morning, we drove home through a black and rainy day, the sky was dark and ominous when suddenly it split open and a shaft of sunlight pierced the blackness. As we watched, the light spread to the earth, dazzling us.

  When I told my sister, Winifred, she said it was a stairway taking Anita to Heaven.

  I hope that was true, because only then can some sense be made of such a tragic waste. The post-mortem revealed that there was no medical reason why our Anita died. Maybe there really is another reason we mortals don’t understand?

  Anita was good and kind and, like everyone who was privileged to know her, I will miss and love her to the day I die.

  This book is dedicated to her, because it is the only title that reflects what she was to us.

  Goodbye, little sister. God keep you safe until we meet again.

  Part One

  1948

  When We Lie

  Chapter One

  Rosie might have been forgiven for thinking this was the worst day of her life. Until she remembered that today was a joy compared with what was to come. The worst was still a month away. After that, all of her chances for happiness would be gone forever.

  ‘Rosie?’ The whisper of her name on his lips only made her realise what she had lost.

  She didn’t answer. Nor did she look at him. In her tortured mind she believed that if she ignored him it might be easier to pretend he wasn’t there.

  ‘Rosie!’ This time there was a note of urgency in his voice, a rush of anger.

  In the ill-lit street, the sound of their footsteps tapping against the pavement made a peculiar melody. Through tearful eyes, she stared at the ground beneath their feet; the hard shiny cobblestones stretched before them like hundreds of newly baked loaves brushed with milk. It had been a glorious June day, and now the evening was sultry, closing about them like the protective arms of a lover.

  ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ His voice was closer now, his head bent to hers. ‘You’ve been like this all day. If there’s something on your mind, you’d best speak up now, because I’m sick and tired of this cat and mouse game.’ Pressing his hand to her arm, he brought her to a halt. Swinging her round to face him, he demanded angrily, ‘I mean it, Rosie. You’d best speak up, because I’ve had enough of your bloody moods.’

  She regarded him with distaste. ‘Want to know all my thoughts, do you?’

  Realising he’d said the wrong thing, he cunningly changed tack. ‘’Course I don’t, but you’re so quiet tonight, sweetheart.’ His voice was entreating. He didn’t want to spoil his chances. ‘Is it something I’ve done?’ he asked. ‘Something I’ve said?’ Whenever he was close to her, the urge to make love was strong. It was strong now.

  ‘No, it’s not your fault,’ she assured him. If anything, the fault was hers. He was just a man, and in all truth he had done nothing that she could reproach him for. Yet, in that moment when he tenderly propelled her backwards, leaning with her against the vicarage wall and whispering softly to her, she knew she could never love him in the way she had loved before.

  Oh, he was handsome enough. Even though he was small in build, and barely taller than Rosie herself, there was something uniquely attractive about him. He possessed the most beautiful, sinister eyes: one as blue as cornflowers, the other as green as the ocean. His dark brown hair was thick and long to his ears, and he walked with a proud bearing. He could be incredibly charming, able to make a woman feel special and seduce her without her even realising it.

  That was how it had begun with Rosie. She’d been swept off her feet, and only now did she realise the enormity of what she had done.

  ‘I want you.’

  ‘Not here, Doug.’ It wasn’t what she wanted to say. What she really wanted to say was: ‘Don’t lay a finger on me. Don’t ever again lay a finger on me.’ But she was wise enough to know that rejecting him now would not solve anything. It was too late for that.

  ‘Why not here?’ he argued. When she looked up at him like that, she stirred his every sense. In the lamplight, her brown eyes were softly beautiful. ‘We won’t be seen, I promise you,’ he pleaded. ‘There’s not a soul about.’

  Torn by guilt and still deeply disturbed by the letter which had arrived in the morning post, she pushed him off. ‘No, Doug!’

  ‘You didn’t say that before.’

  ‘No, I didn’t, did I?’ She ruefully smiled at the memory, hating herself, hating him. That was when it had all started to go wrong. Mistaking her smile for an expression of affection, he leaned down to stroke her bare leg. ‘You’re so lovely,’ he whispered. He felt confident enough to take her now. Sliding his hand beneath her skirt, he pushed upwards with probing fingers, quickly sliding them between the softer crevice of her thighs. ‘You’re ready for me now, aren’t you?’ he murmured breathlessly. He was so excited he could hardly wait. With his other hand he fumbled at his trouser buttons.

  With her legs now pushed open, and his moist tongue lightly following the curve of her ear, Rosie couldn’t deny that she was ready for him. When all was said and done, she was still a woman, warm-blooded, with needs much like his. Turning on him now would be tantamount to destroying herself, and what would that solve? Her mood became defiant. Why shouldn’t he make love to her? As she recalled, it had been good before, so why shouldn’t it be good now?

  She felt herself responding. It was all the encouragement he needed. ‘Open up, sweetheart,’ he whispered harshly, at the same time pushing up through her knicker leg. It was when she felt him against her inner thigh that she knew she couldn’t give herself to him. Not tonight. Not any night, if she had her way.

  ‘Take me home,’ she snapped. ‘Have you no shame, Doug Selby? Are we a pair of curs, to mate in the street? Are we, eh?’ A great tide of raging energy coursed through her as she thrust him off. When he stumbled backwards, with his penis jutting out like the sign over the pawn-shop window, a sense of the ridiculous made her want to laugh out loud.

  ‘Christ Almighty! What are you trying to do to me?’ he groaned, rubbing one hand over his face and making low guttural sounds as though in the throes of deepest agony. ‘You want it as much as
me, I know you do,’ he pleaded. Reaching out, he touched her on the neck.

  The feel of his damp trembling hand had a startling effect on her.

  ‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’

  Shocked and limp now, he began yanking his trousers together, anger in his voice. ‘What the hell’s the matter now?’

  ‘I don’t want you treating me like a whore, that’s all,’ she snapped. ‘I asked you to take me home, and if you don’t want to that’s all right by me. I can take myself!’ Quickly straightening her skirt, she brushed past him, half running to put as much distance between them as she could. She could hear him yelling, cursing her at the top of his voice. ‘To hell with you an’ all, Doug Selby,’ she called back. Tears ran down her face. Tears of shame, and guilt, and frustration. She was trapped, and there was no way out.

  Rosie was halfway down the street when he came chasing after her. ‘Hey! It isn’t me who’s at fault here. It’s you. You’ve been down in the dumps all day, and now, for no reason at all that I can see, you fly off the handle. What am I supposed to do, eh? Tell me that.’

  By the time he’d caught up with her, she had taken off her high-heeled shoes and was sitting on the horse trough outside the railway station. The last train had long gone and the whole place was enveloped in an eerie silence.

  When she saw him limping up the road, gasping and wheezing, she couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Look at you,’ she chuckled, ‘you’re worse than your old grandad.’ She felt in a better mood after the exhilarating run. ‘I should have thought you’d have been fitter… what with carting them coal-bags on your shoulders every day.’

  Slumping down beside her, he took time to recover his breath. ‘Carting coal-bags might broaden your shoulders,’ he pointed out at last, ‘but it don’t prepare you for a two-mile run.’ Dropping forward, he buried his face in his hands. It was a moment before he spoke again, and when he did, it was to say in a harsh voice, ‘I want to know what’s going on? The truth, mind. Don’t take me for a bloody fool.’

  ‘Leave it, Doug. There’s nothing to be gained by talking about it.’ Lately her life seemed to be fraught with problems.

  The look on her face told him enough. ‘It’s him, ain’t it?’ he demanded sharply. ‘I might have known.’

  Rosie nodded her head. ‘We had an almighty row.’

  ‘Hmph!’ He slid his arm round her shoulders. ‘About me, was it?’

  ‘Sort of.’ She felt him pulling her towards him, and though she desperately needed comfort, couldn’t bring herself to lay her head on his shoulders.

  Fortunately, he didn’t sense her resistance to him. ‘“Sort of”… What does that mean?’

  ‘He found my diary. He knows, Doug.’

  ‘So what?’ He gawped at her as though she had said something astonishing. ‘I’m glad he knows. He would have found out sooner or later. Anyway, what does it matter?’

  Shrugging his arm away, she stood up. ‘It may not matter to you, Doug Selby. But it matters to me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Reaching up, he pleaded, ‘Come on, sit here. You and me were made for each other, gal. There was a time when I might have dumped you and chased something else in skirts, but, well, you’ve kind of got to me. I don’t want any other woman, not now… especially not now.’

  ‘Happen you’d be better off chasing “something else in skirts”,’ she retorted. But inside, she was more afraid than ever. Things were bad enough now, without her giving him that sort of encouragement.

  ‘Aw, you know I wouldn’t do that.’ Not right now he wouldn’t anyway. Maybe later, when he’d got her out of his system and boredom began to creep in. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Sit aside o’ me. I promise I won’t try it on. We’ll just have a cuddle.’ He grinned stupidly. ‘And happen a little feel, eh?’

  She heard the childish sulkiness in his voice and despised him all the more. Ignoring his crude suggestion, she told him, ‘I’ve got to go and face him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She hung her head, all manner of emotions coursing through her. ‘It was awful, Doug. Dad went mad. I tried to calm him down, but he wouldn’t listen, so I just ran out.’

  ‘He had no right looking through your diary! Who the hell does he think he is?’

  ‘He says he knew there was something going on, and he meant to get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘So he read your diary? Christ! He’s got a bloody cheek!’

  ‘Well, it’s done now, and there are things to be mended between us.’

  ‘Did you put it all in your diary… everything?’

  ‘Everything, yes.’ In the half-light her face reddened at the thought of what her father had read.

  ‘Bloody hell! What did you do that for?’ He recalled the night they had made love for the first time, and it shook him to think she had written all that down.

  ‘Because that’s what diaries are for.’ Sometimes, like now, she wondered what she had ever seen in Doug Selby.

  ‘Aw, to hell with him!’ He suddenly grinned. Come to think of it, he was proud of himself for that night. Happen her old man might see what kind of a man Doug Selby was after all! ‘He’s never liked me, you know that, don’t you?’ He was shouting now, growing angry. ‘I say to hell with the old sod. Serves him right if he’s suffering. It’ll teach him not to stick his nose where it’s not wanted.’

  Suppressing the urge to punch him hard in the face, Rosie straightened her shoulders and turned from him. ‘You can’t blame him, Doug, it must have come as a shock. It’s my own fault. I should have told him earlier.’ In her heart she realised she should have found the courage to tell them both earlier, because there was still another to be told, and his heart would be broken just as hers was. ‘He’ll be waiting for me. I’d better go.’

  ‘Do you want me with you?’ He held his breath, waiting for her answer and hoping she would say no. There were some things that made him see red, and others that made him a coward.

  ‘No.’ She sighed noisily. ‘It’s best if I face this on my own.’

  ‘Okay.’ He got to his feet and draped an arm round her shoulders. When she plucked it off, he stiffened. ‘Look! I’ll come with you if you want me to,’ he offered churlishly.

  ‘I said no. I can manage on my own.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Gripping her by the shoulders, he inclined his head to kiss her. When she resisted, he kissed her anyway. ‘Right then. Being as you’ve no need of my services, I’ll take myself off home.’

  ‘You do that.’

  ‘Don’t take no nonsense from that old bugger,’ he warned in a superior voice. She didn’t comment, so he flicked her chin with the tip of his finger. ‘We wouldn’t have been seen, you know… back there.’ His loins were still throbbing. He wanted her badly. But he consoled himself with the thought that soon he would have her any time he felt like it. ‘Like I said… tell him to go to hell,’ he suggested grandly.

  ‘You go to hell!’

  ‘You don’t mean that?’

  ‘Oh… go home, Doug!’

  A sudden thought made him wary. ‘I’d best not call round for you tomorrow, eh?’

  ‘You’re a bloody coward, Doug Selby.’

  ‘Sensible, that’s all,’ he corrected. ‘It would only make things worse if I turned up on the doorstep. Whether we like it or not, your dad’s never taken to me.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It don’t bother me.’

  ‘Goodnight, Doug.’ She swung away, leaving him standing there.

  ‘I’ll see you at the market tomorrow, eh? Midday?’ She was already at the bottom of the street. He called a little louder, ‘Don’t let the bugger get the better of you, sweetheart. If you need me, you know where I live.’

  As he strode away in the opposite direction, he mumbled to himself, ‘You’ll not get me within a mile of her old man… not if I can help it. What! If he laid hands on me, the bugger would string me up and no messing!�
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  The thought quickened his feet. First he was walking, then he was stepping it out, then his boots echoed frantically against the cobbles as he took to his heels and ran.

  * * *

  As she approached the terraced house on Pendle Street, Rosie saw that the downstairs lights were still on. Normally, her father would have retired to his bed long before this hour. ‘So you’re waiting for me, are you?’ she said into the warm night air. ‘Mean to have it out, eh?’ The thought of a violent confrontation with her father made her slow her footsteps. For one awkward minute, she wasn’t certain whether to take Doug up on his offer… ‘If you need me, you know where I live.’

  Suddenly she found herself chuckling. ‘A fat lot of good Doug would be,’ she muttered. ‘Like as not, he’d be halfway down the street even before Dad could open his mouth.’ It had taken her some time, but at long last Rosie was seeing a different side to Doug. In the long run, though, she believed it couldn’t really change anything.

  She didn’t need to use her key. The front door had been left on the latch. Inside the dimly lit passage, she took off her long white cardigan and hung it over the hook behind the door. Glancing in the hallway mirror, she patted her long brown hair, pushing it back with her hands so that it didn’t tumble over her shoulders in that wanton way Doug liked. She fastened the top button of her pretty blue blouse, and straightened her skirt, blushing with colour as she remembered Doug’s rough handling of her earlier.

  ‘Who’s that?’ She was visibly startled as the man’s harsh voice reached her from the back parlour. ‘Is that you, Rosie?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was surprised at the calmness of her own voice, especially when her stomach was churning.

  ‘Get in here!’

  One last look in the mirror. ‘Stand up to him, gal,’ she told herself. ‘You’re twenty years old… a grown woman. Don’t let him bully you.’ Determination welled up in her as she went down the hallway towards the back parlour.

  ‘Where the hell are you? I said: GET IN HERE!’

  His raised voice echoed down the passageway. All her courage vanished, and the nearer to the parlour she got, the more she wished she’d taken Doug up on his offer; however reluctantly it was given. A little moral support was better than none at all, she reasoned now.