If You Were the Only Girl, page 43
‘Don’t, Clara,’ Lucy warned. ‘If you are nice to me I am likely to weep all over you.’
‘A good cry never did anyone any harm,’ Cook said.
‘I’ve had a good cry,’ Lucy said. ‘God, some days that is all I’ve seemed able to do.’
‘You need your mother, Lucy,’ Clara said.
‘I would love her to be here right now,’ Lucy admitted. ‘But I don’t want to go to the States just yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, for one thing the war isn’t over yet,’ Lucy said. ‘The Atlantic is not that safe to cross. But that apart, my emotions are all up in the air and I don’t think I should make such a big decision when I feel that way. The solicitor is coming tomorrow and I will have some idea where I stand then, and we will go from there.’
The next morning the solicitor told her she had no money worries and in fact she was a woman of means, for Gwen had left everything, including the house, to Chris, and in the event of his death he had left everything to Lucy in the will he’d lodged with the solicitor when he enlisted. She was, he said, a very fortunate young woman.
Lucy didn’t feel in the slightest bit fortunate. Once before, being left things in a will had altered life’s direction for Lucy, and in the end she had welcomed that. But this was different. She didn’t want Gwen’s house or money, she wanted Gwen and things back the way they used to be as they both waited for Chris to come home. But that wasn’t going to happen. Eventually, the desperate sadness and almost unbearable pain of the first few days settled down to a dull ache, which seemed lodged in her heart.
She felt incredibly lonely. She had the feeling she was jinxed and that if she loved anyone too much they would be taken from her. All she could see in front of her was a big black hole. Minnie wrote over and over, urging her to go over to them, and Clara called to see how she was.
‘Nothing matters any more,’ Lucy said.
‘Of course it does,’ Clara said gently but firmly. ‘You are a nurse and your skills are needed, for the Allies are still fighting.’
‘You can’t expect me to go back to the hospital.’
‘That’s exactly what I am asking you to do,’ Clara said. ‘And it’s what Chris would have wanted.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘I know that man, who went to the levels he did to get you into nursing, would not like to think of you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself.’
‘I’m not feeling sorry for myself.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Clara said. ‘It’s as if you are letting life go on without you.’ She caught hold of Lucy’s hands and said, ‘My darling child, you are not the only one to suffer a loss. Go back to the job you were trained to do, where you will be able to make a difference.’
Lucy returned to the hospital, but she was a quieter more reflective person, and her ready smile and sense of humour seemed to have deserted her. Jenny and Babs couldn’t get her interested in anything, for Lucy never socialised any more, but instead volunteered for all the overtime going because once away from the hospital a well of loneliness would surround her and she looked to the future with no enthusiasm.
THE AFTERMATH
The war was over. Hitler committed suicide in a bunker and the conflict in Europe was finished. Church bells rang out the joyful news and Churchill ordered a national holiday called Victory in Europe Day, on 8 May. Street parties were organised, and bonfires had been building up for weeks, but all this gaiety just seemed to emphasise Lucy’s acute aloneness. She would have preferred to have been at work, but Matron had insisted she take time off as she had worked so many hours, and she said she would be too tired to be of any use to anyone if she didn’t take a break.
A break was the last thing Lucy wanted, though. She intended going into her house and hiding away until the festivities were all over. She had lost too many people to feel any sort of happiness.
So when the knock came at the door she was surprised, and even more surprised to see Babs and Jenny on the doorstep. Lucy stood and stared at them for a moment or two until Jenny said, ‘You going to ask us in or what?’
‘Oh, yes, yes, of course,’ Lucy said, opening the door wider. ‘But what are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you to put your glad rags on because we are going out to celebrate.’
‘Oh, you go,’ Lucy said. ‘That sort of thing is not for me.’
‘Don’t talk so wet,’ Jenny said disparagingly. ‘This is the day for everyone to let their hair down. Flipping heck, Lucy, there isn’t ever going to be another day like this.’
‘I’m no fit company for anyone at the moment.’
‘Then get a grip on yourself,’ Jenny snapped. ‘Crikey, Lucy, you aren’t the only person who lost someone, you know. My brother, George was killed on D-Day, and you know that full well. We used to scrap, but we loved one another and I will always miss him. I felt so sorry for our parents because for all their lives they worked themselves into the ground so that we wouldn’t have to, so that we both could train for good jobs. It’s all they cared about, and now my brother is dead. But they are going to a street party, and do you know why, Lucy?’
Lucy shook her head and Jenny said, ‘They said they were going to celebrate George’s life, short though it was, and the lives of all the other young men who will never grow old, and to give thanks that the world is at peace now, and we must all go on and meet it.’
The words brought tears to Lucy’s eyes, and Jenny’s voice was husky as she went on, ‘That’s true courage, that is. You can’t just curl up and die, Lucy. I know you miss Gwen and Chris, but would they want you to be like this?’
Lucy looked at her good friends. They lived in different places now, and often had different shifts, so they no longer saw that much of each other, but the bands of friendship were as strong as ever. They had come to find her, not just gone off by themselves, and she couldn’t reject friendship like that.
‘No, they most certainly wouldn’t,’ she said in answer to Jenny’s question. ‘And what you have said about your parents has made me slightly ashamed. If you wait a few minutes I will get myself ready and we can go.’
They went to Harrison Road in Erdington, where Jenny’s parents lived, and where a street party was in full swing. Food Lucy had never seen the like of all through the war years was laid out on trestle tables.
‘Where did all the food come from?’ She asked.
‘Don’t ask,’ Jenny advised. ‘Just eat, drink and enjoy.’
And Lucy really did try to get into the party mood. She ate and drank with the rest, and belted out the songs from the music halls, and laughed and joked and made every appearance of enjoying herself. But she was playing a part.
And then someone sang ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’, and when this was followed by ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ and then ‘We’ll Meet Again’, the memories of that dreadful war came tumbling into Lucy’s mind and with it came sadness. She had a sudden urgent need to be on her own for a while. She glanced back, but Jenny and Babs were enjoying themselves too much to miss her and she wandered out on to the High Street. Once there she decided to go to the Abbey and say a prayer for all those who would never come back
The High Street was full of laughing, joking people, and sounds of joy and merriment were everywhere. The weather helped the mood because it was a beautiful spring day with only a gentle breeze, the sun shining from a cornflower-blue sky, the only clouds fluffy white ones. The beauty of this was lost on Lucy, though, as she walked down the street so deep in thought with her head lowered that she almost walked into a man coming the other way.
‘Sorry,’ she said, lifting her head, and then the words died in her throat as she stared at the man.
‘Hello, Lucy,’ he said.
All the nerves in Lucy’s body started to jangle. ‘Hello, Clive.’
‘It’s good to see you,’ Clive went on, and the tone of his voice sent the blood pumping wildly through Lucy’s veins. ‘But what are you doing here? I thought you would be celebrating.’
‘I was,’ Lucy said. ‘I was invited to a street party and I did go, but then I just wanted to be on my own for a bit.’
‘Me too.’ Clive said. ‘There’s a lot to reflect on.’
‘Yes, there certainly is.’
‘Were you making for anywhere in particular?’
Lucy nodded. ‘The Abbey.’
‘Mind if I walk along with you?’
Lucy did mind very much because the man’s nearness was making her body act in very strange ways, but she could hardly say so, and so she shrugged. ‘If you want.’
She noticed the limp straight away and he said, ‘If you’re wondering why I’m not in uniform it’s because I failed the medical. They did wonders with my leg but I will always walk with this limp. That’s why I missed out on D-Day.’ He sighed and went on, ‘It doesn’t matter now the war is over. I expect you are looking forward to Chris coming home.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘Chris didn’t make it. He died in the camp, of dysentery, just before the Allies reached them.’
‘Oh, Lucy, I am so sorry.’
Lucy nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then she recovered enough to say, ‘Chris’s mother, Gwen, who I lived with, fainted when she read the letter. She hit her head, fracturing her skull and never recovered consciousness.’
‘Oh, Lucy,’ Clive said. ‘You must have felt so alone.’
The sympathy in Clive’s voice was Lucy’s undoing and the tears flowed from her eyes. Clive’s arm went round her shoulders and it was as if an electric current had run between them. They looked at each other in amazement and Clive pulled her closer to him as he said, ‘I know what that loneliness feels like.’
‘Your parents?’
Clive nodded. ‘The old man had a heart attack last year and my mother just seemed to fade away without him.’
‘I am so sorry,’ Lucy said. ‘I thought a great deal of your father.’
‘I missed them more than I thought I would,’ Clive admitted.
‘And what about Mr Carlisle and Norah?’
‘I pensioned them off.’
‘And you divorced your wife?’
‘No, but she was divorcing me,’ Clive said. ‘And she’d gone down to London with this man she was running away with, but they were both killed by a doodle bug. Rough justice or what? That was just before my parents died. It’s a lonely place I am in, especially as I wasn’t allowed back in the army.’
‘That must have been a blow.’
‘In a way,’ Clive said. He paused before going on, ‘I suppose in a way it was my bolt hole. Jessica was having affairs almost since the day we married, and her tempers had to be seen to be believed.’
‘Huh, I can imagine that.’
They had reached the lich gate and, as they began walking through the graveyard towards the church, Clive said, ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘In the hospital you said I had killed your love for me.’
‘Yes,’ Lucy said. ‘What did you expect?’
‘Nothing more, really,’ Clive said. ‘I wanted to apologise for the harm I did you but I never saw you after that night when I told you how I had survived Dunkirk. Where did you go? I looked for you for ages and in the end I asked the nurse in charge where you were; said we were old friends. She said you had been transferred.’
‘That’s right,’ Lucy said. ‘It is what happens in hospitals. You are drafted in where you are needed.’
‘Oh.’
‘What?’
‘I … I thought you might have asked for a transfer because of me,’ Clive said.
They had reached the door of the church and Lucy mounted the steps, leaving Clive at the bottom before turning and saying, ‘My God, you have got an inflated idea of your own importance. You Heatheringtons are all the same.’
Clive sprang up the steps and grasped Lucy’s hands. ‘No, really, I am not like my parents,’ he said earnestly. ‘I know now Jessica married me for the title I have now inherited and the chance to be mistress of a big house. Well, I can’t do anything about the title, though I have no intention of using it, and if anything is left of the house when the military have finished with it I will take advice on how to get rid of it because I have no intention of living in a mausoleum like that.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because the very things that attracted Jessica – all the trappings of wealth and influence – were the very things that made you uncomfortable. All I am saying is that I am disposing of all I can.’ Lucy looked into Clive’s eyes, and he pleaded, ‘Give me another chance, Lucy. I once said that I loved you, would always love you till the breath leaves my body, and that is true. Let me show you how much, and now that we haven’t got to please anyone but ourselves let me try and win your love back?’
Lucy’s eyes glistened and she brushed the tears away as she said, ‘I have never stopped loving you, Clive. I realised that a long time ago.’
‘Oh, my darling girl,’ Clive cried, enfolding Lucy in his arms.
It felt so right and very, very comforting. She didn’t need to speak, but as she snuggled deeper she heard his sigh. They stayed locked together on the steps of the church for some time.
‘Lucy,’ said Clive gently, and she lifted her head and saw his eyes filled with love for her. When Clive’s lips descended on hers, she gave herself up to the kiss, and as the heat flowed through her body she knew at last she was where she belonged, and neither of them would ever feel alone again.
About the Author
Anne Bennett was born in a back-to-back house in the Horsefair district of Birmingham. The daughter of Irish Roman Catholic immigrants, she grew up in a tight-knit community where she was taught to be proud of her heritage. She considers herself to be an Irish Brummie and feels therefore that she has a foot in both cultures. She has four children and five grandchildren. For many years she taught in schools to the north of Birmingham. An accident put paid to her teaching career and, after moving to North Wales, Anne turned to the other great love of her life and began to write seriously. In 2006, after 16 years in a wheelchair, she miraculously regained her ability to walk.
Visit www.annebennett.co.uk to find out more about Anne and her books.
By the same author
A Little Learning
Love Me Tender
A Strong Hand to Hold
Pack Up Your Troubles
Walking Back to Happiness
Till the Sun Shines Through
Danny Boy
Daughter of Mine
Mother’s Only Child
To Have and to Hold
A Sister’s Promise
A Daughter’s Secret
A Mother’s Spirit
Far From Home
Keep the Home Fires Burning
The Child Left Behind
If you enjoyed this Anne Bennett novel, then you’ll love these other brilliant wartime tales, all available to buy now.
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
‘The beauty of Anne’s books is that they are about normal people
and are sewn through with human emotions which affect us all’
Birmingham Post
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East – 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
Anne Bennett, If You Were the Only Girl
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‘A good cry never did anyone any harm,’ Cook said.
‘I’ve had a good cry,’ Lucy said. ‘God, some days that is all I’ve seemed able to do.’
‘You need your mother, Lucy,’ Clara said.
‘I would love her to be here right now,’ Lucy admitted. ‘But I don’t want to go to the States just yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, for one thing the war isn’t over yet,’ Lucy said. ‘The Atlantic is not that safe to cross. But that apart, my emotions are all up in the air and I don’t think I should make such a big decision when I feel that way. The solicitor is coming tomorrow and I will have some idea where I stand then, and we will go from there.’
The next morning the solicitor told her she had no money worries and in fact she was a woman of means, for Gwen had left everything, including the house, to Chris, and in the event of his death he had left everything to Lucy in the will he’d lodged with the solicitor when he enlisted. She was, he said, a very fortunate young woman.
Lucy didn’t feel in the slightest bit fortunate. Once before, being left things in a will had altered life’s direction for Lucy, and in the end she had welcomed that. But this was different. She didn’t want Gwen’s house or money, she wanted Gwen and things back the way they used to be as they both waited for Chris to come home. But that wasn’t going to happen. Eventually, the desperate sadness and almost unbearable pain of the first few days settled down to a dull ache, which seemed lodged in her heart.
She felt incredibly lonely. She had the feeling she was jinxed and that if she loved anyone too much they would be taken from her. All she could see in front of her was a big black hole. Minnie wrote over and over, urging her to go over to them, and Clara called to see how she was.
‘Nothing matters any more,’ Lucy said.
‘Of course it does,’ Clara said gently but firmly. ‘You are a nurse and your skills are needed, for the Allies are still fighting.’
‘You can’t expect me to go back to the hospital.’
‘That’s exactly what I am asking you to do,’ Clara said. ‘And it’s what Chris would have wanted.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘I know that man, who went to the levels he did to get you into nursing, would not like to think of you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself.’
‘I’m not feeling sorry for myself.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Clara said. ‘It’s as if you are letting life go on without you.’ She caught hold of Lucy’s hands and said, ‘My darling child, you are not the only one to suffer a loss. Go back to the job you were trained to do, where you will be able to make a difference.’
Lucy returned to the hospital, but she was a quieter more reflective person, and her ready smile and sense of humour seemed to have deserted her. Jenny and Babs couldn’t get her interested in anything, for Lucy never socialised any more, but instead volunteered for all the overtime going because once away from the hospital a well of loneliness would surround her and she looked to the future with no enthusiasm.
THE AFTERMATH
The war was over. Hitler committed suicide in a bunker and the conflict in Europe was finished. Church bells rang out the joyful news and Churchill ordered a national holiday called Victory in Europe Day, on 8 May. Street parties were organised, and bonfires had been building up for weeks, but all this gaiety just seemed to emphasise Lucy’s acute aloneness. She would have preferred to have been at work, but Matron had insisted she take time off as she had worked so many hours, and she said she would be too tired to be of any use to anyone if she didn’t take a break.
A break was the last thing Lucy wanted, though. She intended going into her house and hiding away until the festivities were all over. She had lost too many people to feel any sort of happiness.
So when the knock came at the door she was surprised, and even more surprised to see Babs and Jenny on the doorstep. Lucy stood and stared at them for a moment or two until Jenny said, ‘You going to ask us in or what?’
‘Oh, yes, yes, of course,’ Lucy said, opening the door wider. ‘But what are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you to put your glad rags on because we are going out to celebrate.’
‘Oh, you go,’ Lucy said. ‘That sort of thing is not for me.’
‘Don’t talk so wet,’ Jenny said disparagingly. ‘This is the day for everyone to let their hair down. Flipping heck, Lucy, there isn’t ever going to be another day like this.’
‘I’m no fit company for anyone at the moment.’
‘Then get a grip on yourself,’ Jenny snapped. ‘Crikey, Lucy, you aren’t the only person who lost someone, you know. My brother, George was killed on D-Day, and you know that full well. We used to scrap, but we loved one another and I will always miss him. I felt so sorry for our parents because for all their lives they worked themselves into the ground so that we wouldn’t have to, so that we both could train for good jobs. It’s all they cared about, and now my brother is dead. But they are going to a street party, and do you know why, Lucy?’
Lucy shook her head and Jenny said, ‘They said they were going to celebrate George’s life, short though it was, and the lives of all the other young men who will never grow old, and to give thanks that the world is at peace now, and we must all go on and meet it.’
The words brought tears to Lucy’s eyes, and Jenny’s voice was husky as she went on, ‘That’s true courage, that is. You can’t just curl up and die, Lucy. I know you miss Gwen and Chris, but would they want you to be like this?’
Lucy looked at her good friends. They lived in different places now, and often had different shifts, so they no longer saw that much of each other, but the bands of friendship were as strong as ever. They had come to find her, not just gone off by themselves, and she couldn’t reject friendship like that.
‘No, they most certainly wouldn’t,’ she said in answer to Jenny’s question. ‘And what you have said about your parents has made me slightly ashamed. If you wait a few minutes I will get myself ready and we can go.’
They went to Harrison Road in Erdington, where Jenny’s parents lived, and where a street party was in full swing. Food Lucy had never seen the like of all through the war years was laid out on trestle tables.
‘Where did all the food come from?’ She asked.
‘Don’t ask,’ Jenny advised. ‘Just eat, drink and enjoy.’
And Lucy really did try to get into the party mood. She ate and drank with the rest, and belted out the songs from the music halls, and laughed and joked and made every appearance of enjoying herself. But she was playing a part.
And then someone sang ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’, and when this was followed by ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ and then ‘We’ll Meet Again’, the memories of that dreadful war came tumbling into Lucy’s mind and with it came sadness. She had a sudden urgent need to be on her own for a while. She glanced back, but Jenny and Babs were enjoying themselves too much to miss her and she wandered out on to the High Street. Once there she decided to go to the Abbey and say a prayer for all those who would never come back
The High Street was full of laughing, joking people, and sounds of joy and merriment were everywhere. The weather helped the mood because it was a beautiful spring day with only a gentle breeze, the sun shining from a cornflower-blue sky, the only clouds fluffy white ones. The beauty of this was lost on Lucy, though, as she walked down the street so deep in thought with her head lowered that she almost walked into a man coming the other way.
‘Sorry,’ she said, lifting her head, and then the words died in her throat as she stared at the man.
‘Hello, Lucy,’ he said.
All the nerves in Lucy’s body started to jangle. ‘Hello, Clive.’
‘It’s good to see you,’ Clive went on, and the tone of his voice sent the blood pumping wildly through Lucy’s veins. ‘But what are you doing here? I thought you would be celebrating.’
‘I was,’ Lucy said. ‘I was invited to a street party and I did go, but then I just wanted to be on my own for a bit.’
‘Me too.’ Clive said. ‘There’s a lot to reflect on.’
‘Yes, there certainly is.’
‘Were you making for anywhere in particular?’
Lucy nodded. ‘The Abbey.’
‘Mind if I walk along with you?’
Lucy did mind very much because the man’s nearness was making her body act in very strange ways, but she could hardly say so, and so she shrugged. ‘If you want.’
She noticed the limp straight away and he said, ‘If you’re wondering why I’m not in uniform it’s because I failed the medical. They did wonders with my leg but I will always walk with this limp. That’s why I missed out on D-Day.’ He sighed and went on, ‘It doesn’t matter now the war is over. I expect you are looking forward to Chris coming home.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘Chris didn’t make it. He died in the camp, of dysentery, just before the Allies reached them.’
‘Oh, Lucy, I am so sorry.’
Lucy nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then she recovered enough to say, ‘Chris’s mother, Gwen, who I lived with, fainted when she read the letter. She hit her head, fracturing her skull and never recovered consciousness.’
‘Oh, Lucy,’ Clive said. ‘You must have felt so alone.’
The sympathy in Clive’s voice was Lucy’s undoing and the tears flowed from her eyes. Clive’s arm went round her shoulders and it was as if an electric current had run between them. They looked at each other in amazement and Clive pulled her closer to him as he said, ‘I know what that loneliness feels like.’
‘Your parents?’
Clive nodded. ‘The old man had a heart attack last year and my mother just seemed to fade away without him.’
‘I am so sorry,’ Lucy said. ‘I thought a great deal of your father.’
‘I missed them more than I thought I would,’ Clive admitted.
‘And what about Mr Carlisle and Norah?’
‘I pensioned them off.’
‘And you divorced your wife?’
‘No, but she was divorcing me,’ Clive said. ‘And she’d gone down to London with this man she was running away with, but they were both killed by a doodle bug. Rough justice or what? That was just before my parents died. It’s a lonely place I am in, especially as I wasn’t allowed back in the army.’
‘That must have been a blow.’
‘In a way,’ Clive said. He paused before going on, ‘I suppose in a way it was my bolt hole. Jessica was having affairs almost since the day we married, and her tempers had to be seen to be believed.’
‘Huh, I can imagine that.’
They had reached the lich gate and, as they began walking through the graveyard towards the church, Clive said, ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘In the hospital you said I had killed your love for me.’
‘Yes,’ Lucy said. ‘What did you expect?’
‘Nothing more, really,’ Clive said. ‘I wanted to apologise for the harm I did you but I never saw you after that night when I told you how I had survived Dunkirk. Where did you go? I looked for you for ages and in the end I asked the nurse in charge where you were; said we were old friends. She said you had been transferred.’
‘That’s right,’ Lucy said. ‘It is what happens in hospitals. You are drafted in where you are needed.’
‘Oh.’
‘What?’
‘I … I thought you might have asked for a transfer because of me,’ Clive said.
They had reached the door of the church and Lucy mounted the steps, leaving Clive at the bottom before turning and saying, ‘My God, you have got an inflated idea of your own importance. You Heatheringtons are all the same.’
Clive sprang up the steps and grasped Lucy’s hands. ‘No, really, I am not like my parents,’ he said earnestly. ‘I know now Jessica married me for the title I have now inherited and the chance to be mistress of a big house. Well, I can’t do anything about the title, though I have no intention of using it, and if anything is left of the house when the military have finished with it I will take advice on how to get rid of it because I have no intention of living in a mausoleum like that.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because the very things that attracted Jessica – all the trappings of wealth and influence – were the very things that made you uncomfortable. All I am saying is that I am disposing of all I can.’ Lucy looked into Clive’s eyes, and he pleaded, ‘Give me another chance, Lucy. I once said that I loved you, would always love you till the breath leaves my body, and that is true. Let me show you how much, and now that we haven’t got to please anyone but ourselves let me try and win your love back?’
Lucy’s eyes glistened and she brushed the tears away as she said, ‘I have never stopped loving you, Clive. I realised that a long time ago.’
‘Oh, my darling girl,’ Clive cried, enfolding Lucy in his arms.
It felt so right and very, very comforting. She didn’t need to speak, but as she snuggled deeper she heard his sigh. They stayed locked together on the steps of the church for some time.
‘Lucy,’ said Clive gently, and she lifted her head and saw his eyes filled with love for her. When Clive’s lips descended on hers, she gave herself up to the kiss, and as the heat flowed through her body she knew at last she was where she belonged, and neither of them would ever feel alone again.
About the Author
Anne Bennett was born in a back-to-back house in the Horsefair district of Birmingham. The daughter of Irish Roman Catholic immigrants, she grew up in a tight-knit community where she was taught to be proud of her heritage. She considers herself to be an Irish Brummie and feels therefore that she has a foot in both cultures. She has four children and five grandchildren. For many years she taught in schools to the north of Birmingham. An accident put paid to her teaching career and, after moving to North Wales, Anne turned to the other great love of her life and began to write seriously. In 2006, after 16 years in a wheelchair, she miraculously regained her ability to walk.
Visit www.annebennett.co.uk to find out more about Anne and her books.
By the same author
A Little Learning
Love Me Tender
A Strong Hand to Hold
Pack Up Your Troubles
Walking Back to Happiness
Till the Sun Shines Through
Danny Boy
Daughter of Mine
Mother’s Only Child
To Have and to Hold
A Sister’s Promise
A Daughter’s Secret
A Mother’s Spirit
Far From Home
Keep the Home Fires Burning
The Child Left Behind
If you enjoyed this Anne Bennett novel, then you’ll love these other brilliant wartime tales, all available to buy now.
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
Click here to buy now
‘The beauty of Anne’s books is that they are about normal people
and are sewn through with human emotions which affect us all’
Birmingham Post
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East – 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
Anne Bennett, If You Were the Only Girl
