The Promise

Synopsis

The Promise will take you on a breathtaking journey into the battlefields of the First World War. War threatens to take all she has loved and lived for . . . On the outbreak of war, Belle Reilly's husband Jimmy enlists and heads for the deadly trenches of northern France. But Belle knows she cannot stand idly by when so many are sacrificing their lives. Volunteering to help battlefield wounded, Belle is posted to France as a Red Cross ambulance driver. There, a tragic accident brings her face to face with Etienne - a man from her past she's never quite forgotten. Torn between forbidden passion, loyalty and love, Belle is caught in an impossible situation. Will she succumb to the dark forces of this most brutal of wars? Or will fate intervene and finally lead her to lasting happiness? The Promise vividly describes life behind the front line and the tragic choices that war forces people to make. 

LESLEY PEARSE

The Promise

MICHAEL JOSEPH
an imprint of
PENGUIN BOOKS

Contents

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

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Acknowledgements

By the same author

Georgia

Charity

Tara

Ellie

Camellia

Rosie

Charlie

Never Look Back

Trust Me

Father Unknown

Till We Meet Again

Remember Me

Secrets

A Lesser Evil

Hope

Faith

Gypsy

Stolen

Belle

To Maureen with love
Because you’re worth it.

Chapter One

July 1914

Sheltering from the heavy rain in a doorway, he looked across the street to the little bow-windowed milliner’s.

Just the name ‘Belle’ in gold italic writing above the window made his heart race a little faster. He could see two ladies silhouetted inside, and the way they moved suggested they were excited by the pretty hats on display. He had achieved his objective, to discover if Belle had realized her dream, but now he was here, so close to her, he wanted much more.

A plump, rosy-faced matron joined him in the doorway to shelter from the rain. She was struggling with an umbrella which had blown inside out. ‘If it don’t stop raining soon we’ll all get webbed feet!’ she remarked jovially as she tried to right her umbrella. ‘I don’t know what possessed me to come out in it.’

‘I was thinking the same myself,’ he replied, and took the umbrella from her to straighten out the spokes. ‘There you are,’ he added as he handed it back to her. ‘But I expect it will do the same again in the next gust of wind.’

She looked at him curiously. ‘You’re French, aren’t you? But you speak good English.’

He smiled. He liked the way English women of her age didn’t hold back from asking complete strangers questions. French women were much more reticent.

‘Yes, I am French, but I learned English when I lived here for a couple of years.’

‘Are you back here on holiday?’ she asked.

‘Yes, visiting old friends,’ he said, for that was partially true. ‘I was told Blackheath was a very pretty place, but I didn’t pick a good day to visit it.’

She laughed and agreed no one would want to walk on the heath in such heavy rain.

‘You must live in the south of France,’ she said, looking at his tanned face appraisingly. ‘My brother holidayed in Nice and came back as brown as a conker.’

He had no idea what a conker was, but he was glad the woman seemed prepared to chat, hoping he might learn something about Belle from her.

‘I live near Marseille. And that shop over there reminds me of French milliners,’ he said, pointing to the hat shop.

She looked over to it and smiled. ‘Well, they say she learned her trade in Paris, and all the ladies in the village love her hats,’ she said with real warmth in her voice. ‘I’d have popped in there myself today if the weather wasn’t so bad, she’s always got time for everyone, such a lovely young woman.’

‘So she has good business then?’

‘Yes indeed, she gets ladies coming from all over to buy from her, I’m told. But I must make my way home now or there won’t be any dinner tonight.’

‘It was a pleasure talking to you,’ he said, and helped her put her umbrella up again.

‘You should go over there and buy your wife a hat,’ the woman said as she began to walk away. ‘You won’t find a better shop, not even up in Regent Street.’

After the woman had gone he continued to look across the street to the shop, hoping for a glimpse of Belle. He had no wife to buy a pretty hat for, and he hardly needed an excuse to drop into an old friend’s shop. But was it wise to stir up the past?

He turned to look at his reflection in the shop window beside him. Old friends back in France claimed he’d changed in the two years since he last saw Belle, but he couldn’t see any difference himself. He was still as lean and fit: hard work on his small farm kept him that way and his shoulders were even broader and more muscular. But perhaps his friends meant that the old scar on his cheek had faded and contentment had softened his angular features to make him look less dangerous.

Ten years ago, in his mid-twenties, when he’d needed to be able to strike fear into people, he’d taken some pride in hearing that his blue eyes were icy and there was menace even in his voice. But while he knew he was still capable of violence if it was needed, he had retired from that world.

If the older woman’s praise for Belle was representative of how everyone in this genteel village felt about her, the more scandalous parts of her past couldn’t have followed her here. That was good. He of all people knew how past mistakes, wrong turns and shameful episodes were often very hard to live down.

Now, as his mission had been accomplished, he knew the wisest thing would be to go back to the station and catch a train into London.

The tinkling of a door bell alerted him that someone was leaving Belle’s shop. It was both the ladies, who he guessed were mother and daughter, for one looked to be in her forties, the other no more than eighteen or so. The younger one ran to a waiting automobile with two pink- and black-striped hat boxes in her hands, while the older woman looked back into the shop as if saying goodbye. Then suddenly he could see Belle in the doorway, as slender and as lovely as he remembered, wearing a very demure, high-necked pale green dress, her dark shiny hair piled up on her head with just a few curls escaping around her face.

All at once he didn’t want to be wise; he had to speak to her. The rumblings of war which had started a year or two ago had become increasingly louder in the last year, and since the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria back at the end of June, war was now inevitable. Germany would undoubtedly invade France and as he would have to fight for his country, he might not live to see Belle ever again.

As the two women drove off, Belle closed the shop door. Unable to resist the impulse now she was alone, he darted across the street through the rain, pausing for just a second or two to watch her through the glass in the door. She had her back to him as she arranged some hats on little stands. There was a row of tiny pearl buttons down the back of her dress, and he felt a pang of jealousy that he would never be able to undo them for her. She bent forward to pick up a hat box from the floor and he had a glimpse of shapely calves above pretty lacy ankle boots. He had seen her naked at the time he rescued her in Paris, and felt nothing then but concern for her, yet now the sight of just a few inches of leg was arousing.

She turned as the door bell tinkled and on seeing him her hands flew up to her mouth and her eyes opened wide with shocked surprise. ‘Etienne Carrera!’ she exclaimed. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

Her voice, the deep blue of her eyes and even the way she said his name made him feel weak with longing. ‘I’m flattered that you remember me,’ he said, removing his hat with a flourish. ‘And you are looking even more lovely. Success and married life suit you.’

He took a couple of steps nearer her, intending to kiss her cheek, but she blushed and backed away as if nervous. ‘How did you know I was married and here in Blackheath?’ she asked.

‘I called in at the Ram’s Head in Seven Dials. The landlord there told me you’d married Jimmy and moved to Blackheath. I couldn’t leave England without seeing you, so I caught the train out here in the hope of finding you.’

‘After all you did for me I should have written to you when I got married,’ she said, looking both anxious and flustered by his sudden appearance. ‘But …’ she faltered.

‘I understand,’ he said lightly. ‘Old friends who have been through so much together do not need to explain. I always knew from the way Jimmy never gave up in his quest to find you after your abduction that he must love you very deeply. So I am just happy that things worked out for you both. I heard that he and his uncle have a public house here.’