The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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Winston declared. ‘You’re the damnedest-looking grandmother I’ve ever seen. And you’ll never get old, Emma. You have the kind of beauty that is indestructible.’ He grinned at her affectionately. ‘Furthermore, Frank tells me that the American major you met at his house has taken quite a fancy to you. You might find yourself with a suitor before you know it.’
‘Don’t be foolish, Winston,’ Emma snapped, but she smiled as she spoke.
‘I’m not being foolish,’ Winston responded. ‘After all, you’ll only be fifty-five next month. Besides, you look years younger.’ He paused and eyed her carefully. ‘And Paul has been dead for almost five years.’
Emma was silent and Winston changed the subject. He and Frank constantly talked about the possibility of Emma forming a relationship with another man, and they went out of their way to introduce her to their eligible friends. But although she was gracious, she was patently not interested. She would never replace Paul in her life; she did not want to.
The year 1945 began auspiciously for Emma. Daisy gave birth to her first child in January. It was a girl.
‘How do you feel, darling?’ Emma asked as she walked into Daisy’s private room at the London Clinic.
‘Thin,’ Daisy said, laughing. She hugged Emma. ‘I was awfully lucky. It was an easy birth.’
‘Yes, I know. The doctor told me.’ Emma moved a strand of hair away from Daisy’s face and kissed her. ‘I just spoke to David at Biggin Hill. He’s thrilled to bits. Celebrating with the boys from the squadron, and playing the proud father. He’s going to phone you a little later. And good news, darling. He’s got a twenty-four hour pass. He’ll be up in town tomorrow.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Mummy. I can’t wait to see him.’ Daisy wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not sure who the baby looks like. She’s awfully crumpled and red, poor little thing. But she has black hair, and I think she’s going to have a widow’s peak like yours from the way her hairline is formed. And her eyes are violet. Do you think they’ll change colour?’
‘They might,’ Emma said, sitting down. ‘They often do. Still, yours remained blue.’
‘I’ve chosen the baby’s first two names, Mummy,’ Daisy announced. ‘I’m going to call her Paula McGill. After my father.’
Emma’s face, normally inscrutable, was only too readable for once in her life, and Daisy burst out laughing. ‘Don’t look so shocked. Honestly, Mummy, for a woman as sophisticated as you are, you can be awfully naïve sometimes. Did you think I didn’t know Paul was my father?’
Emma said, ‘I – I—’ and stopped.
Daisy laughed again, but it was a gentle laugh and full of love. ‘Even when I was quite small I thought he was my father. After all, he was always with us and we travelled everywhere with him. Then, as I grew older, I realized how much I resembled him physically. And let’s face it, I never knew Arthur Ainsley, whose name I bear.’ Daisy paused and her bright blue eyes were fixed intently on Emma. ‘Anyway, when I was twelve Paul told me himself.’
Emma’s jaw dropped. ‘Paul told you he was your father! I can’t believe it!’
Daisy nodded. ‘Well, he did. He said he wanted me to know, and that I was old enough to understand. But he said it must be our secret for a few years. He was worried you would be upset. He explained everything to me very directly and carefully, and with so much gentleness. He told me why you and he couldn’t be married, but that he hoped to solve the problem one day. He also told me that he had legally adopted me, and he said he loved us both more than anything in the world.’ Daisy’s eyes were moist. She cleared her throat and finished, ‘Actually, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to me, Mummy, because by that time I had guessed. I told him so, and he really chuckled. He said he knew his Princess was the smartest girl in the world.’
‘Didn’t – doesn’t it bother you, knowing you are illegitimate?’ Emma managed to ask.
‘Oh, Mummy, don’t be so old-fashioned. Of course it doesn’t. I’d rather be Paul McGill’s illegitimate daughter than Arthur Ainsley’s legitimate daughter any day of the week.’
Tears welled in Emma’s eyes and she fumbled for her handkerchief. ‘I – I – don’t know what to say,’ she began falteringly.
Daisy leaned forward and held out her arms to Emma. ‘I love you, Mummy. And I loved Paul. I couldn’t have had better parents if I’d chosen them myself. And you have been the most wonderful mother in the whole world.’
‘But why didn’t you tell me you knew before?’ Emma asked in a muffled voice, her face pushed against Daisy’s shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you tell me when Paul died?’
‘I didn’t think it was really the right time. My main concern was trying to alleviate your grief.’
Emma sat back in the chair, blowing her nose. She smiled weakly at Daisy, her face reflecting her love. ‘I’m glad you know, darling. I should have told you myself. But I thought you would react like – that you would be upset and that you would hate me and Paul.’
‘You are a silly goose, Mummy. I could never hate or criticize you or my father for what you did. You loved each other.’ Daisy took hold of Emma’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m proud to be your daughter.’ Daisy gave Emma a questioning look. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind my calling the baby after my father?’
‘I’m thrilled,’ Emma said.
The nurse came in, interrupting them. Emma held the baby in her arms and her face glowed as she looked down at the small bundle nestling against her shoulder. This is Paul’s first grandchild, she thought, and her heart quickened. If only he had been alive to see her. Paula McGill Amory, the first of a new generation in the McGill dynasty.
One week later Daisy came home to Belgrave Square, where her old nursery had been beautifully prepared to receive its new young occupant. Almost immediately the child became the centre of Emma’s world, and if she sometimes usurped Daisy’s role as mother, Daisy did not seem to mind in the least. She was gratified to see Emma so joyous and smiling. And she enthusiastically encouraged her mother when she talked of her plans for Paula and her future.
And the future in general was beginning to look brighter. ‘It’s as if Paula’s birth was a good omen,’ Emma said one morning over breakfast, gesturing to the newspaper she was reading. ‘The Allies are really making a breakthrough. I think the war will end soon.’
She was right in this assumption. As the new year eased into spring, the whole of England took heart. In March, the American First Army crossed the Rhine over the bridge at Remagen and established an invasion bridgehead in Germany. Between April 20 and 25, the Russians entered Berlin, and five days later Hitler and Eva Braun committed suicide. The Third Reich, which the Führer had said would last a thousand years, had disintegrated in humiliating defeat. On May 7, the Germans surrendered unconditionally at Rheims in France.
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