A Family Secret: No. 1 Bestseller of family drama. Josephine Cox
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contrast, as time passes and the child becomes the adult, circumstances within Marie’s beloved family may inevitably change and dark secrets throw a shadow over Marie’s family.
How will she cope when the truth is made known?
It was a simple, heart-warming scene, long before the joy of friendship turned into badness, which was bound to touch and scar everyone in that happy holidaying mood on this particular lovely day.
No one could have seen what sadness might touch straight and decent people – a family so far without secrets to fear. Life was good and the friendship strong. Today, they were happy, enjoying an innocent ramble along the busy beach. Sadly the small happy band of people could never have envisaged the lies and deceit that would touch them in different ways. How will they deal with what awaits them? Only time will tell.
Blackpool, North-West England, 1935
‘WAS THERE EVER a more splendid sandcastle?’ said Marie, beaming on her daughter, Anne. ‘Those little flags on the sand-pies round the moat make a castle fit for the King.’
‘I like this one best,’ said Anne, pointing to the paper Union Flag, fluttering furiously in the strong April breeze blowing straight off the Irish Sea. ‘It matches my bathers.’
‘That blue matches your skin all right,’ laughed Derek. ‘Tony and Eileen have got the right idea – going for a stroll along the Promenade. Tony said he’d look what’s on at the Winter Gardens; said he’d treat us to a night on the town if we can get the landlady to babysit Anne.’
‘Yes, he’s a good friend,’ Marie said, leaning forward in her deck chair to unscrew the lid of the Thermos and pour a steaming cup of tea. ‘They both are. Tony’s such a generous sort, kind-hearted and so sweet with Eileen.’ She lowered her voice. ‘She told me she’d like a little one, too, but they’ve not been blessed yet. Still, there’s time … Here, love, have some of this.’ She passed Derek the cup and poured another for herself. ‘When I’ve drunk this I think I’ll take a stroll, too, if you’ll keep an eye on Anne? This saggy old deck chair is starting to lose its appeal.’
Having drunk her tea, she climbed up the steps to the Promenade, stopped at the railings to wave to her husband and daughter, then set off in the direction of the Tower, hoping she might bump into Tony and Eileen returning from their walk.
Two workmen, canvas bags containing paint pots and brushes at their feet, were leaning over the railings a few yards down from where the pretty, dark-haired young mother had emerged up the steps and onto the Promenade.
One was a striking figure, a handsome towering giant of a man with a fine pair of shoulders so broad they looked as if they could carry a horse. A huge dark beard covered almost the whole of his lower face and thick neck, and his narrow dark eyes constantly danced, missing nothing.
In contrast, his colleague was slight of build, with small features, fair colouring and bright blue eyes, and when he turned to address his mate his voice had a musical Irish lilt.
‘The first of this year’s Blackpool Beauties,’ he said, watching the young woman walk elegantly away.
‘Aye, gives you something to hope for,’ said the big fella, his voice betraying his Scots heritage. ‘I tell you, Danny Boy, it’s not just better weather I’m looking forward to. It’s the sight of the ladies sunbathing on the beach that makes my hard working day worthwhile.’
‘I’ll drink to that, Big John,’ said Danny Magee.
‘There’s a fair few things you’ll drink to,’ grinned John Ferguson. ‘Comes of being Irish, I reckon.’
‘So what’s your excuse?’ laughed Danny, slapping him on the back.
‘Luckily we’re going her way,’ said John, nodding at the receding figure of the pretty young woman who had been on the beach. ‘First pint’s on me if you can find out her name. Your round if she tells me.’
‘Yer’ve got money to lose, big man.’
Marie started along the Promenade in the direction of the Tower, the cold wind lifting the skirt of her coat. She glanced back and waved to Derek, and to Anne, now snuggling into a towel, filling Marie’s heart with joy. What fun to be on holiday with the four people who meant most to her in the world: her darling daughter, her handsome husband, and her dearest life-long friends. The Blackpool holiday had become an annual treat by now, sometimes at Easter and some years in summer, when the weather was more predictable and the beaches were packed with workers from the industrial towns on their break. She spotted Eileen and Tony sitting on the Blue Bench, the renowned meeting place for visitors and locals alike, a refuge for lost children, a trysting place for young sweethearts and place for weary travellers to rest. Since last century the bench had occupied this prominent position facing the sea and had passed into local folklore. No one could remember now how the bench had come to be there in the first place, and today, Marie saw, it was beginning to betray its age. Although it had been repainted every year, the ironwork was showing through with rusty stains. Marie thought that so far this year the Corporation hadn’t got round to repainting it and she hoped it wasn’t going to be neglected and allowed to fall into disrepair.
‘Hello! Eileen, Tony, how was your stroll?’ Marie called as she approached.
‘Marie, we guessed if we sat here for a bit you might come to find us,’ grinned Tony, shuffling along to make room for Marie on the bench next to Eileen. ‘Didn’t think you had the staying power.’
‘Oh, it’s not that cold,’ Marie protested. ‘Although Anne insisted on wearing her bathers and I left her looking bright blue.’
All three laughed and Eileen passed across a brown paper bag of humbugs. ‘Here, love, help yourself. Neither my waistline nor my fillings will stand another one.’
For a while Anne sat sucking the sweet while Tony related what he’d seen of the programme at the Winter Gardens and Eileen commented on the choice.
‘We’ll simply have to go to hear this new Wurlitzer organ that’s been installed in the Empress Ballroom,’ she enthused. ‘There’s a new organist – Horace Finch his name is – and he’s supposed to be brilliant. To me, that’s the sound of the seaside.’
‘The sound of the seaside to me is the howling of a gale,’ said Tony, deadpan.
The women burst out laughing and by the time their chatter had receded they saw that there were two young men in overalls standing before them. From the look of the bags they were carrying their business was with the bench the friends were sitting on.
‘Good afternoon,’ said the short wiry man with the fair curly hair. ‘And a fine afternoon it is indeed.’
‘Good afternoon to you,’ Tony responded. ‘I’m guessing you’re here to smarten up the Blue Bench?’
‘Right you are,’ answered the Irishman, ‘but it seems downright rude to turf the ladies off when they look so comfortable. I’m guessing you’re on holiday, is that so?’
‘I think that’s a fairly safe bet,’ said Marie with a smile.
‘Smart as well as pretty,’ said the irrepressible workman, lifting his flat cap politely. ‘Though it just happens I do have a bit of a gift – being the seventh son of a seventh daughter – and I can tell ye a thing or two about yerself ye wouldn’t expect me to know.’
The other workman rolled his dark eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Just listen to his blarney,’