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MAKING HIS WAY slowly and painfully to the brook, John looked towards that special place where he and Emily had arranged to meet. His sorry eyes scoured the area, but he couldn’t see her, and a small wave of relief surged through him. Though he had longed to see her, he had not wanted Emily to look on him the way he was now; nor was he ready to tell her what was on his mind. He needed time to think. He had decisions to make, and above all else, whatever the cost, he had to do what was right for Emily. Nothing else was important. Nothing else mattered.

Right now, though, he had to clean himself up, so with that in mind he headed for that part of the brook where the water tumbled down from the hillside. Here there was a deep pool where he could immerse himself in the cool, soothing waters, and put his mind to what lay ahead.

Afterwards, he would speak with his Aunt Lizzie. She was the wisest person he knew. All his life, whenever he had been troubled, she had been there to guide him. Like Emily, she was kind and giving, with a way that put a man’s heart at peace.

Determined now, he pushed on, his mind alive with thoughts of Emily.

There were things she had to know, and other, more worrying things that she must never find out, such as Jackson’s determined threat to ‘punish’ her unless John left the area for good. But how could he go? How could he leave her behind? Dear God! It didn’t bear thinking about.

On the other hand, how could he stay, when that maniac had promised to harm her? And even though he was ready to guard and protect her with his life, how could he stop Jackson from carrying out his threat?

Balancing against a tree, he slowly shed his outer garments. His best shirt was torn and bloody; every part of his body hurt abominably. He knew he was lucky to be alive, and that by nightfall he would probably be in agony, once a lot of the shock had worn off. As he reached the water and slid into its cold, shocking depths, he considered the options open to him. He could defy Jackson and stay, which would mean risking Emily’s well-being. Or he could go, and live a life of loneliness without her. And what of Emily? He had seen the love in her eyes, and it warmed his heart. But she would get over him, and in time maybe he, too, would learn to live without her. Oh, but it was a sorry prospect, and one he would rather not face.

There were other options, he reminded himself. He could do away with Jackson – an ‘accident’ maybe, one dark night, across the far fields where the man often walked. If he planned it carefully, no one would ever know it was him.

He mentally shook himself. God Almighty! He was talking murder! If he was found out, he’d be hanged and Emily would be on her own just the same. Even worse, she would have to live with the shame and horror of what he had done. And what about Lizzie? She and Emily were the two people he loved most in the whole world. How could he do such a terrible thing to them?

Suddenly the full horror of what he was considering hit him like a hammer blow. No! Murder was not an option.

He wondered whether Aggie might allow him and Emily to get wed? But he already knew the answer to that. ‘Emily is far too young,’ she would say. ‘You haven’t known each other long enough to know your own minds.’ And Emily’s grandfather would agree with that wholeheartedly. The whole idea of marriage would be thrown out of the window. In fact, the mere mention of it might result in him being forbidden to see Emily again, until she was older.

What if he were to warn Aggie of the threat Jackson had made to her daughter? They could take it in turns to watch him. But no, that wouldn’t work either. Aggie already had more than enough on her hands. Besides, even with the two of them on guard, they couldn’t watch Jackson twenty-four hours a day. He was a devious, evil creature, and if he set out to do something, he was bound to do it. That was the nature of the man.

The authorities then? Another bad idea, because even if he went to the police and told them of Jackson’s threat to Emily, Clem was such a clever liar, he was bound to come out on top.

While he washed away some of the physical hurt, John’s mind was frantically searching for guidance. Maybe he could go back to Jackson and try to reason with him? But the man had no reasoning powers in him. Should he fight him, then? In a fair fight, he might be able to bring him to his knees … send him on his way. He reminded himself that Jackson was like no ordinary man. He would simply crawl away like some injured wild animal, to lick his wounds and bide his time. Then he’d be back, more dangerous and determined than ever.

After a while, chilled through and beginning to shiver, John climbed out and stood in the sun; it was good to feel the warmth on his bruised ribcage and back. But there was no warmth in his soul, for he was torn in so many ways. Time and again he had to remind himself: it was Emily he had to think of. Not himself. Not that maniac. Only Emily. But what to do?

With his whole body shivering uncontrollably, he fumbled on his clothes and began to walk home. He could think of nothing except his Emily. Even if she was aware of the danger, she would still want him to stay – he was as sure of that as he was sure of his love for her. She had such spirit.

He smiled. That was just one of the facets of her nature that made him love her so. Then, sighing, his heart once more heavy, he made his way home.

Taking full advantage of the morning sunshine, Lizzie Hanley was busy pegging out the washing. A small round person in her latter years, she was a quick, familiar figure. With bright green eyes, homely face and a halo of silver hair, she took great pleasure from the ordinary things that brightened her day: the trill of a blackbird overhead, the bees’ contented buzz as they gathered nectar, and the feel of a mischievous breeze as it tugged at stray hairs in her bun and tickled her face with them.

Just then, a long-eared hare on the skyline stood up on its hindquarters to stare at her. She stared back … only for a moment, and then it was gone. She smiled. This was her place. This was her life. And she was grateful for it.

Having used two pegs to hang out her long red-flannel nightgown, she promptly wedged another two in her mouth while she bent to the wicker-basket and lifted a damp sheet from the pile of freshly laundered items there.

Immersed in her task, she didn’t realise John was approaching. Always a happy soul, she sang to herself – a strange, muffled melody as it filtered through the two wooden pegs clenched in her teeth.

It was only when she heard a sound behind her that she swung round to see him standing there, his face swollen and bruised, and the wet shirt on his back clinging to him like a second skin. ‘Good Lord!’ Dropping the sheet to the ground, she spat out the pegs and took hold of him. ‘What in God’s name happened to you?’ Without waiting for an answer she propelled him inside, with John protesting all the way, ‘I’m all right, Auntie. Don’t fuss.’

But fuss she did, because it was her way. Moreover, she could see he’d been badly hurt, and knowing him, she suspected he was in more pain than he would ever admit.

Inside the pretty thatched cottage, John sat by the fire-range, his thoughts still with Emily. He had searched for an answer and now he knew what must be done.

‘Who’ve you been fighting?’ Returning with a bowl of hot water and a cloth, Lizzie set them down on the table, together with arnica and some strips of clean soft cotton from an old sheet.

Seeming not to have heard her, and disturbed by his own thoughts, John stood up and moved to the window, from where he looked out on the garden; it was such a pretty garden, with a winding gravel-path flanked by blossom of all kinds, and all of it lovingly tended by his Aunt Lizzie’s hand.

She came to stand by his side. ‘When a man’s been fighting,’ she said softly, ‘it’s usually over some woman or other.’ She tugged at his shirtsleeve. ‘You’d best get outta these wet things.’

‘You’re right.’ He turned. ‘You might as well know … I’ve had a bit of a set-to with Clem Jackson.’

The old woman nodded grimly. ‘Aye, I thought as much.’ She gestured to the injuries on his neck and temple. ‘He didn’t do those with his fists neither, did he?’

‘I’d best get out of these wet clothes, like you said.’

Lizzie barred his way. ‘Was it because of the lass?’

John nodded.

She sighed knowingly. ‘I’ve seen it coming. You and the lass, making up to each other like a pair o’ young doves. Oh yes, I’ve seen trouble brewing for some weeks now.’ She looked up at him. ‘Aw, look now! You’re both too young to be getting serious.’

‘I love her.’ His voice dropped to the merest whisper. ‘I always will.’

Again she gestured to his wounds. ‘Looks to me like you’ve been warned off.’

He gave a little smile. ‘You could say that.’

‘Does young Emily know you’ve been beaten because of her?’

‘Not yet.’ He limped back to the chair, but he didn’t sit. Instead he leaned against the arm. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be told soon enough.’

‘This is not good, son.’ Though she was his aunt and not his mother, Lizzie had called him ‘son’ from the first day he was given into her care at the age of five. He had made her life a happy one, but now she was deeply worried. She wagged a podgy finger. ‘Happen the two of you had better stay away from each other for the time being?’

John appreciated her concern, but this was something he had to deal with in his own way. ‘Leave it to me, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘You know I’ll do the right thing by her.’

The old dear was penitent. ‘Oh lad, I didn’t mean to interfere, and o’ course I know you’ll do the right thing … but it’s got me worried, what with Clem Jackson calling the tune at that house, and now you coming home in this state. There’s things here that I don’t much care for … bad things! Just you be careful. That’s all I’m saying.’

‘You’re not to worry.’ Laying his two hands on her shoulders, he promised, ‘Like I say, I’ll deal with it.’

And for the moment, as he climbed the narrow stairway to his room, she had to be content with that.

Concerned that she might have missed him, and wondering if she’d made a mistake about the time or the place, Emily made her way home.

Aggie saw her coming. ‘Where’ve you been, lass?’ That was always her first question whenever Emily returned from her wanderings. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’

Emily glanced at the mantelpiece clock, surprised to see she’d been away for almost two hours. ‘I’ve been down by the brook,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I didn’t realise I was gone so long.’

Aggie wondered whether she should tell her about John being here, and how Clem had beaten him with the butt of his gun. Deciding there was really no way out of it, she went straight in. ‘Lass, I want to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.’ She smiled. ‘But then you allus do.’

Going to the larder, she took down two china beakers and a jug of home-made sarsaparilla covered with a muslin and bead cloth to keep away the flies. She half-filled the beakers with a measure of the dark brown liquid, and handing one of them to Emily, she urged, ‘Sit down for a minute, lass.’ She pointed to the rocking-chair by the window, where she herself had been sitting only a few minutes since. At the same time she drew up another chair close by. ‘We need to talk, you an’ me.’

Emily did as she was told, and when she was seated, she asked curiously, ‘What’s wrong?’ She only had to look at her mammy’s face to realise there was trouble of some kind, and it didn’t take long for her to realise it must have something to do with Clem Jackson. If ever there was any trouble round here, you could depend on him being at the centre of it.

Seating herself opposite, Aggie looked her daughter in the eye. ‘It’s about you and John,’ she said quietly. ‘It seems you’ve been keeping me in the dark, and because of it, Clem’s got his back up. And now, this very morning while you’ve been away, there’s been a right set-to. I’m sorry, lass, but I’m none too pleased.’ She gave the girl her sternest stare. ‘Happen none of this would have come about if you’d been open with me from the start!’ Though she adored Emily, she didn’t take kindly to her keeping secrets from her.

Emily was taken by surprise. ‘What do you mean, trouble?’ she asked worriedly. ‘What kind of trouble?’

‘The worst kind. Even Grandad got himself involved.’ When Emily opened her mouth to ask after the old man, Aggie put up a staying hand. ‘It’s all right,’ she assured her. ‘The silly old fool didn’t get hurt, thank God, but it could have been very different.’

‘I’m sorry, Mam.’ Emily knew she should have confided in her, but she hadn’t known herself how serious were her feelings for John. Not until last night, when he took her in his arms and made her feel like the most important person in the whole wide world. ‘I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.’

Brushing aside her apology, Aggie needed to know: ‘How far has it gone with you and John?’

Emily was embarrassed by her mother’s question.

‘Well, child? Answer me. You and John – how far has it gone atween you?’

‘We haven’t done anything wrong, if that’s what you mean!’

‘So, what are your feelings? I need to know.’

Emily blushed bright pink. ‘I think I love him, Mammy.’ She allowed herself a shy little smile. ‘I want to be with him all the time, and when we’re apart, I feel so lonely.’ Pausing to remember how it was whenever she was with John, Emily admitted, ‘I’ve never felt like this before.’

If Aggie had been concerned before, she was even more so now, for she had seen the look in Emily’s eyes, and it gave her a jolt. She had long thought of her daughter as just a lass, but now she knew that the ‘lass’ was fast becoming a woman, with all the complications that went with it. So, she loved young John, did she? Or she thought she did. In her opinion, Emily was still far too young to be getting serious like that, and she said so in no uncertain terms.

While Emily listened with horror, Aggie told her about John and Clem, and how the two of them had fought like tigers. ‘John stood up to him, I’ll give him that. By! He took such a beating … but he kept coming back for more. Look, lass, I want you and John to stop seeing each other,’ she finished. ‘Afore there’s murder done.’

Her words fell on deaf ears, however, because Emily was already out of the door and running like the wind, over the fields towards the rise, to the cottage – and John.

On his way back to the barn, Clem Jackson glanced up to see Emily fleeing across the fields. ‘She’s probably heard how I trounced that young feller-me-lad,’ he grinned. ‘It’s wild she is!’ He chuckled. ‘A wild beauty that needs a bit o’ taming.’ He had long fancied himself as the one to do the ‘taming’. These past months, the girl had seemed to blossom. He spent hours just watching her. It gave him such secret pleasure.

Climbing the ladder to the hayloft, he dumped his bag of tools and began to examine the faulty winding mechanism that winched heavy sacks of potatoes and other items up to the door at the top of the barn. He threw a bit of the chain up to lie out of the way on the crossbeams, and as he did so, a small notebook fell into the hay at his feet.

‘Hello, what have we here?’ Clem said aloud, and picked it up.

The initial pages were merely the innocent jottings of a young girl, telling of her joy in this place, then the dismay after her daddy went away, and the arrival of her mother’s brother, Clem Jackson. She spoke of the way their lives had changed with the death of her granny, and her stillborn brother, and how she prayed every day that Clem would go away and they might find some peace from him.

There were many entries about John, and how they enjoyed each other’s company. I like him a lot, she had written. I think he likes me too. Girlish things. Simple and lovely. But there was little here to fire Jackson’s imagination.

Until he came across the latest entry.

‘By! This is a real eye-opener an’ no mistake!’ he declared, the slaver dripping from his mouth as he read aloud to himself:

‘Last night, John and I held each other. It was so good. He told me he loved me, and I said I felt the same way. Something wonderful happened then. He kissed me, not like a friend, but like a lover. I knew that he wanted more, and so did I. But I was afraid, yet oh so excited. I had such powerful feelings, I couldn’t stop trembling.

He touched my breast … it was a strange and beautiful feeling and I didn’t want him to stop. But he did, and when I asked him why, he said he didn’t know, except we shouldn’t go so far. At least not yet. He didn’t want to spoil me, or hurt me. He thought it was best if we courted for a while, and then we would both see how we felt.

I know he was right. In fact, I felt ashamed at my own part in it, because I must have led him on. It’s just that I do love him so. I know that now. Even if it takes years, it’s John I want.

If Uncle Clem knew we had been so forward, he would go mad. I know he would put all the blame on John, but I was as bad. Nothing happened though. John stopped it before we got carried away, and in a way I’m glad he did.

Clem says John is only after what he can get and that he has no respect for me. But now I know he’s wrong, and besides, I don’t care what my uncle says. He will never stop me from loving John. He makes me feel different – alive – like I’ve never felt before.

When he held me close last night, when he touched me, it made me shiver inside. We’ll do like he says, though. We’ll court for a while, then one day we’ll marry, and I’ll be his wife. John, and his children: that’s all I want, and I’ll be happy for ever.’

Lizzie was the first to see Emily running towards the cottage. ‘The lass is here!’ she called up to John, who was in his bedroom pacing the floor, deep in thought. ‘Best get yersel’ downstairs.’

When a moment later he emerged to see Emily coming down the lane, his first impulse was to go to her, but Lizzie reached out to restrain him.

‘Listen to me, son,’ she persuaded softly. ‘When my brother Petey was lost in the mine disaster, getting on for fifteen year ago now, and your mammy pined herself away soon after, you and me had nobody else but each other. I promised my sister-in-law I’d do my best to raise you as she and Petey would have done. I’ve loved you and cared for you, and you’ve been like my own son, and I thank God for every minute.’

‘I know that,’ he answered, and hugged her. ‘You’ve been like a mother to me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But this time you can’t help me. I’m a man now, Auntie, and this is something I have to deal with myself.’

Though Emily was opening the garden gate by now, and he was aching to go to her, the urgency in his aunt’s voice made him pause.

‘In all these years I’ve never asked you to do anything against your nature,’ she said. ‘But I’m asking you now, and you have to listen, son … for your own good, and for the good o’ that dear lass.’

Tears filled her eyes. ‘Let things happen gradual between the two of youse. Don’t be too hasty and do something you’ll regret. You’re both so young – you’ve got all the time in the world.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Gently gripping her plump shoulders, he said, ‘Trust me. You know I’ll do what’s right by her.’

As he went out to meet Emily, Lizzie watched them fold into each other’s arms, and her heart sank. ‘By! It’s a bad bugger who’s took over Potts End,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know what’ll become of the two of youse, but he’ll not let you have any peace, I’m sure o’ that!’

Her sorry gaze followed the couple as they walked away, towards the fells, where the canal rose and dipped through the lock-gates, and the skylarks sang their cheery song overhead.

It’s a lonely old world for such as me, Lizzie sighed. She recalled her own young love many years ago, and the rush of nostalgia brought a smarting of tears to her pretty green eyes.

Down by the canal, Emily chided John for having gone to see Clem. ‘If you’d told me what you meant to do, I’d never have let you go,’ she said. She was horrified by John’s injuries.

Drawing her down to sit next to him on the bank, John slid his arm about her shoulders. ‘I just wanted for you and me to have our courtship put out in the open,’ he explained. ‘I didn’t want us hiding round corners and being afraid at every footstep.’

She looked up, an appreciative smile on her face. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘but you can’t reason with a man like that.’

He studied her now; those intense nutmeg-brown eyes and that innocent smile. Today, her hair was free from its plaits and tumbled silkily onto her shoulders. His heart turned somersaults. ‘Emily?’

She looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘There’s something I have to tell you.’

Sitting round she looked him full in the face. ‘You’d best tell me then.’

Shifting uncomfortably he began, ‘Do you want us to get married one day?’

Her eyes opened with astonishment. ‘You know I do!’

‘That’s what I want too, sweetheart.’ Cupping her pretty face in the palms of his hands he studied her every feature. ‘Look, I’ve been thinking – about you and me, and our future. When we do get married, I want us to have the best wedding, one we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.’

‘That’s not important.’ Putting her finger to his poor split lips, she told him, ‘All I want is to be your wife. All the fancy trimmings won’t make any difference.’

‘I know that. But there are other things that do matter. I need to make you a home, and give you nice things, and later when we have children, we won’t want them to go without. You know what I’m saying, don’t you, sweetheart?’

‘I’m not sure.’ She shook her head, the beginnings of doubt creeping into her heart.

‘The truth is,’ he went on, ‘I have no savings, and precious few prospects.’

‘No! You have your work – every wagon round these parts has been either repaired by you, or built from scratch. You’re well respected hereabouts. Folk always call on you whenever they need a roof fixed, or other jobs done. There’s all sorts you turn your hand to.’

‘I won’t deny that, but it still makes me just a handyman. That won’t build us a house, or provide enough to give our children the best of everything.’

Emily would have none of it. ‘We’ll manage,’ she protested. ‘When the time comes, we’ll have a bit put by. We’ll be fine, you’ll see.’

Realising he was in danger of losing the argument, and putting her in more danger than she could ever imagine, he said firmly, ‘I’ve made a decision.’

She didn’t answer, for somewhere deep inside she feared what he was about to say. ‘You’re going away, aren’t you?’ Her heart sank like a dead weight inside her.

He nodded. ‘There’s a big world out there, and a chance for me to make something of myself. I won’t be away too long – a year or two, that’s all. We’re young enough to spare that time, and when I come back, I’ll have made enough money to get us everything you deserve.’ He paused; the pain in her eyes as she looked at him was strangling his heart. In a choked voice, he promised her he would come back, and when he did, it would be to make her his wife.

‘But I don’t need a big wedding,’ she said tearfully. ‘I only need you.’

‘Do you want rid of your uncle?’

Wiping her eyes she shook her head. ‘Him! He’ll never go,’ she said bitterly.

Her answer gave an edge to his argument. ‘I’ll make him go!’ he promised. ‘When I’ve got enough money to clear your mammy’s debts, I’ll be back, and we’ll be rid of him once and for all.’

She smiled through her tears. ‘Would you do that for us?’

‘You know I would.’

She thought how wonderful it would be if her uncle was gone, and for a brief moment her heart was lifted by his promise. But then she imagined what her life would be like without John, and it seemed unbearable. ‘Don’t go,’ she pleaded.

Common-sense crumbled when, suddenly, he was filled with a compulsion to take her away. ‘Come with me, Emily!’

Thrilled, she drew away from him, her eyes alight with excitement. ‘Yes!’ She laughed out loud. ‘Oh yes, John. Take me with you and I’ll get work. I’ll help you make your fortune!’ Like John, she had momentarily forgotten harsh reality.

In the heat of the moment, John wondered why he had not thought of it before. The solution was staring him in the face! Of course! If he couldn’t keep Jackson away from Emily, the next thing was to remove her out of harm’s way.

Besides, the idea of himself and Emily travelling life’s highway to make their fortune was wonderful. Later, they would come back and free her mammy and grandad from Jackson’s clutches. Potts End Farm would be returned to them, and life would be as it was before Clem came to taint it.

When, in that instant, common-sense prevailed and realisation dawned, a painful silence fell between them. It was broken by Emily’s quiet voice. ‘I can’t go with you.’ She raised her tearful gaze. ‘I have to stay and help Mammy. She could never manage on her own. Then there’s Grandad.’ She made a gesture of helplessness. ‘They need me.’

He nodded. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Emily. I wasn’t thinking.’ He held her hand and said reflectively, ‘Maybe Lizzie was right.’

‘What do you mean?’

He recalled his conversation with his aunt. ‘She said we were too young, and I’ve just proved her right.’ He was mortified. ‘The idea of you coming with me just took away my thinking.’

‘Don’t go, John,’ she murmured. ‘Please! Don’t go.’

‘I have to.’ Her pain was his.

Taking her by the arms, he drew her up, and for a time they stood together, he with his arms about her, and Emily nestled against him. Each could hear the other’s heart beating, as if they shared just one between them. They didn’t speak. All that needed saying had already been said.

With a suddenness that startled him, she wrenched away. ‘If you go, I’ll hate you!’ she cried, and when he reached out to console her, she turned and ran.

With his emotions torn in so many ways, all he could do was let her go. That dearly loved, familiar figure, running like the very wind, her hair flying in the breeze, and her feet bare as the day she was born. This was how he would remember her. This was the image he would carry with him, until he came back to claim her, one day when he had the means to free that troubled family.

Lowering his gaze for a moment, he wished with all his being that it could have been different. ‘I have to go,’ he said helplessly. ‘He gave me no choice.’

Sobbing uncontrollably, Emily fled to the barn and up the ladder to that secret place where she often came to write her deepest thoughts into her little book. Seeking comfort, she reached for her locket – and found it gone. Dear Lord! Horrified, Emily recalled her two wild journeys across the fields – the first in happy expectation of a rendezvous, the second a panicked dash to her lover’s aid. The locket must have come adrift from its chain then, and be lost on the farm or in Potts End Lane. She’d never find it again.

Sinking to her knees, her face in her hands, she gave vent to her grief.

She didn’t hear the soft crunch of footsteps as the man stepped towards her across the strewn hay. Nor was she aware that he stood for a full minute staring down on her, licking his lips and remembering what he had read in that book of hers. And now she was here, and his need of her was like a red-hot iron in his gut.

When in a minute he was on her, she fell backwards, helpless and terrified as he tore at her clothes. The instinct for survival gave her the will to fight, but she was no match for his bull-like strength.

‘For God’s sake, Uncle Clem – leave me be!’

But he didn’t leave her.

Instead, he slid his hand over her mouth to stop her screams. ‘We can’t ’ave yer mammy come a-running now, can we, eh?’ he panted.

In the shocking minutes that followed, he took her innocence, and coveted every part of her. And try as she could, she was helpless to stop him.

When it was over, and she was slumped to the floor, degraded and broken, he pointed down at her as he buttoned up his flies. ‘One word o’ this to anybody – anybody, mind – and I’ll set fire to the house … with all three of you buggers inside.’ He laughed, a dark, evil sound that sent ripples of terror through her every nerve-ending. ‘One dark night when yer think yer all safe, that’s when I’ll come a-prowling. Yer know I’d do it an’ all, don’t yer, eh?’ When she didn’t answer, he gave her a kick. ‘DON’T YER?’

Nodding, she kept her gaze to the wall.

‘There’s a good lass.’ He grinned with pleasure and cast one more lingering look at her naked thighs, smeared with a mixture of her blood and his seed.

Quickly now, he scurried to the ladder and began his descent. ‘Yer a woman now,’ he gloated. ‘What’s more, it took a man to mek yer blossom! Not some young whippersnapper who doesn’t know what day it is!’ He grinned and called up, ‘Pretend it were him, if yer like. That don’t bother me none. In fact, it might suit me all the way.’

A moment later he was gone, and she was alone; her young life ruined, and her hopes for the future torn apart.

Some short distance away, John paused to look back on his journey down Potts End Lane and out of Emily’s life. ‘I’ll keep my promise,’ he vowed, his gaze trained on the farmhouse where Emily lived. ‘However long it takes, I’ll be back, my love. And nothing will ever part us again.’