Only a Mother Knows



Only a Mother Knows

Only a Mother Knows

Only a Mother Knows

Contents

Title Page

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Also by Annie Groves

Copyright

About the Publisher

Only a Mother Knows

In memory of Penny Halsall

24 November 1946 – 31 December 2011

Only a Mother Knows

Foreword

The news of Penny Halsall’s illness came as a great shock. I had been her editor for a number of years at HarperCollins and she was one of my favourite authors. I’d worked with Penny both on the books that she wrote as Annie Groves and on some of the ones that she had written as Penny Jordan – she really was a joy and was much loved by everyone here. Her books were special, they were full of heart and it was impossible not to fall in love with the characters she created. It felt like a great honour to be working on her novels; her books had sold millions and millions of copies all around the globe and she was a legend. It was such a thrill when a new, complete manuscript landed in my inbox and I was eagerly anticipating the next book that she was due to send to me in a few months’ time.

Penny had been working on the Annie Groves Article Row novels, all of which are set in and around the Holborn area of London and all featuring the hopes and heartaches of Tilly, Dulcie, Sally, Olive and Agnes. We had just published My Sweet Valentine, the third in a planned series of five books, it had been a bestseller and there was lots of excitement about the future. Penny and I had recently had a long and fruitful conversation about what she was planning next for the girls of Article Row and I couldn’t wait to read the next instalment. Penny was completely rooted in her characters and had very definite ideas about where they were all going. She spent an awful lot of time researching all of her books and one of my abiding memories of Penny is watching her head off determinedly on a research mission to Holborn after a business lunch in town. Penny constantly thought about her characters and was always playing around with ideas about what the war would hold in store for them all. I was full of anticipation.

When her sister, Prue, broke the news about Penny’s advanced illness, it came completely out of the blue. Penny was such a consummate professional and had never given any indication that she was ill, despite living with cancer for some time. There was little chance to digest this information properly when the devastating news came shortly after that she had died over the Christmas holidays in late December 2011.

At Penny’s funeral, the church was completely packed, not just with family but also with fellow writers, friends, fans and publishing colleagues. But despite the sadness there was laughter too. Penny loved a party and when her favourite song was played – The Maverick’s, ‘I Just Want to Dance the Night Away’ – we were reminded of what a wonderfully happy and positive person she was.

Once back at my desk in London, my mind turned to the difficult issue of what would happen now. My Sweet Valentine was in the middle of the series and Annie Groves’ fans would be desperate to know what was going to happen to those much-loved characters. I had many long talks with Penny’s brilliant agent, Teresa Chris, and both of us agreed that Penny would have wanted nothing more than to have the series completed – she really had put her heart and soul into every page and it would have meant so much to her. Teresa approached Penny’s wonderful sister, Prue, and to our delight, she was a keen supporter of getting the series completed. She allowed me the great privilege of access to Penny’s files, so early one spring morning in 2012, I made the trip up to Prue’s house in Cheshire to see what I could find. We already had some idea of what Penny had in mind, but it wasn’t a complete picture and I knew there were some big gaps. Penny couldn’t have left things in better shape – not only was there a large chunk of manuscript in her files but there were also detailed notes and plot outlines that would help us to complete the puzzle. Penny was such a trouper!

The last piece to be put in place was to find somebody who would be able to marry all of the pieces together and to turn all of this into a narrative that was worthy of Penny. We were almost running out of ideas when Teresa discovered the writer Sheila Riley. Not only did Sheila have something of Penny’s style, but she also hailed from Penny’s beloved Merseyside – without her, this book could never have existed – thank you, Sheila. We were also lucky enough to have the services of Susan Opie, copy editor extraordinaire, and someone who knows the Annie Groves books inside out.

So, some months later and after quite a lot of effort from many marvellous people, I’m sitting here writing this and explaining how this book, and the one to follow it, have come about.

Penny was an amazing person for so many reasons. There was an old-fashioned dignity and modesty about her, and one of the reasons she was so successful was that she knew, instinctively, that although life can sometimes deal you a rotten hand, with guts, determination and plenty of love and kindness, everyone has the power to change their fate. Only a Mother Knows and A Christmas Promise (publishing autumn 2013) really deliver the authentic Annie Groves experience, and I know that you, Reader, won’t be disappointed.

HarperCollins would like to extend their heartfelt thanks to Sheila Riley, Teresa Chris, Susan Opie and especially to Prue Burke and the Halsall estate for their tremendous help in finishing the Article Row series. They have all done Penny proud.

Kate Bradley

Editor

Only a Mother Knows

June 1942

‘… So you let her swan off with her young man … on her own … without as much as a by-your-leave? Well! I must say.’

‘I’m very well aware of what you must say, Nancy,’ Olive sighed with thinning patience, honed from years of living next door to the local busybody, wondering how much more carping she could take from her next-door neighbour, whose watchful eyes and razor-sharp tongue made her a woman the rest of the street avoided at all costs.

Olive had noticed lately how her other neighbours dipped back behind their front doors when Nancy was at large. However, she didn’t feel the need to worry about what they all thought or did; Olive was far too busy minding her own business and getting on with her war-work, collecting and sending parcels out to the troops from the Red Cross shop as well as her fire-watching duties and driving the WVS van to unfortunate beleaguered bombed-out victims who were so traumatised half the time they didn’t even know their own name. And even though the war had worn her saintly patience a little thin it didn’t give her the right to take it out on Nancy. Olive knew that she might have become a bit quick tempered of late, but with the war – no, that was no excuse, she realised. Too many people were blaming their shortcomings on the war and she didn’t want to be one of them.

With a weary sigh Olive, who didn’t have the luxury of standing around all day indulging in idle gossip, made to move but the other woman seemed to be bursting with things to say. Given that every time she left the house Nancy was out in a flash, Olive wondered if her neighbour kept a permanent lookout from behind her front-room curtains but she didn’t voice her thoughts. Live and let live, that was her rule in life – and it usually stood her in good stead where her next-door neighbour was concerned.

She had to silently congratulate the woman on her tenacity; she would have been a boon behind enemy lines as she missed nothing. Olive smiled to herself. Nancy must have that new radar they were talking about on the wireless this morning, the Radio Detection and Ranging system that had been brought out last year and was, according to the Home Service, the country’s best chance of winning the war in the Pacific. Olive, her mind wandering a little, was surprised that it had been made public as so much was hidden from them.

Nancy must have the system installed on her wall, because Olive could not make a move towards her own sandstone scrubbed step without the woman being out waiting for a chat. No matter how much the posters told them to ‘Keep Mum and Save Dad’ her loose-lipped neighbour still got her twopenny-worth in. But this time she was not there just to pass on some gossip, she was trying to make a point, and Olive wanted no part of it.

Bridling now, something she hadn’t experienced much before the war, Olive suspected Nancy wanted to talk about her daughter, Tilly, who had been getting away from the bombing raids in the city and having a few quiet days in the countryside with her young man, Drew, whom they had feared had been badly injured – or worse – in the last raid. Olive had decided it was just the tonic Tilly needed after such a shock. She had assumed the worst, well, they all had. It was only being so busy looking after baby Alice, the new addition to the family, that had kept Olive’s mind from conjuring up what could have befallen Drew that night, and that really didn’t bear thinking about. Tilly adored him so much she would have been devastated if even a hair on his head had been damaged.

No, thought Olive defiantly, this time her domestic arrangements were her own concern and not up for debate whatsoever with Nancy Black.

‘… So I said to Mrs Denver, you know the woman who lost her husband when he was on fire watch in the Blitz …’

‘Yes, of course I know Mrs Denver.’ Olive, growing impatient, cut off Nancy’s diatribe in mid-sentence knowing she would only repeat the awfully tragic story of Mr Denver being blown to smithereens on the roof of a dockside warehouse and whose remains were never found, even though they had all been with Mrs Denver when she received the terrible news.

‘… So I said to her … I said …’ It was obvious Nancy was not going to be silenced, but Olive didn’t have the time to stand around on her spotless step that had been scrubbed only that morning, and she didn’t want to hear Nancy’s views on how Tilly should or shouldn’t behave.

‘… I said to Mrs Denver, “the way these young girls carry on these days, running around, fast and loose” …’

‘I hope you are not insinuating that my Tilly …’

‘… No, of course not,’ Nancy patted Olive’s arm, ‘certainly not your Tilly; she’s a good girl, she is.’ Nancy shook her head, making the steel dinky curlers under her turbaned scarf rattle. If Olive had been mean-minded she might have wondered how Nancy managed to keep the curlers from going for scrap, along with every other superfluous household item, to be used in the war effort to make aircraft for the RAF, but she wasn’t that way inclined and the irrepressible Nancy had started again.

‘… I was just saying to Mrs Denver, it’s not right. It’s not the way we behaved when our chaps were at the Front in the Great War …’

‘Great War!’ Olive spluttered. ‘What was so “great” about it?’ She almost spat the words, she was so angry now. ‘No war is “great”, Nancy, young men dying is not great, losing loved ones is not great, yet you seem to wear the war like your own personal badge of honour.’ Olive took a deep breath, knowing she was in danger of saying things she would later regret, but the milk of human kindness would sour in Nancy Black’s breast, she was sure, and she didn’t know how she stopped herself from saying so.

However, taking a deep sigh, she was immediately sorry for the outburst she had kept locked inside for so long. Nancy would try the patience of a saint, everybody knew that. ‘My Tilly knows how to behave,’ she said determinedly.

It was not her place to go taking it out on Nancy just because she was upset at not seeing Tilly much lately. When the girl told her of her plans to spend a few days with Drew Olive had been shocked, initially, that her unmarried daughter would contemplate going away for a few days with her young man, alone. Yet she knew Drew was a level-headed young man and he would keep Tilly as safe as was humanly possible. Olive was convinced that nothing untoward would take place, unlike her narrow-minded neighbour who only saw the wrong in people, it seemed.

Olive had consented to Tilly and Drew having a short holiday because she didn’t want any more of Tilly’s strained silences. She didn’t like it when she and her only child were at loggerheads, she wasn’t used to it. Also, Olive had to think of the effect it had on the newest member of the household; Sally’s baby half-sister depended upon them all so much now after her parents had been killed in an air raid in Liverpool and she’d had to be brought to London by Callum, who had been Sally’s sweetheart before his sister married Sally’s father. It was complicated, Olive knew, but luckily the child was now blissfully unaware of the circumstances behind her move to Article Row.