Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

‘My God! I’ve married a bully-boy.’

Negotiating the barge through the waters, he smiled at her from the tiller. ‘I hope you like your wedding present.’

‘What if I don’t?’ She knew now it must be to do with the cottage. It was common knowledge how he had busied himself behind the screen for months on end, not even allowing herself to enter.

‘Archie says you’ll love it.’

‘Oh, I see!’ She feigned indignation. ‘So Archie’s seen it, has he?’

‘Apart from myself he’s the only one.’

‘Well, hurry up, then, husband. Get me there quick, before I faint from curiosity.’

On arriving at the cottage, John carried her over the threshold. ‘I can’t believe it!’ Rosie could hardly trust her own eyes. Running from room to room, she was overwhelmed. ‘It’s beautiful!’ She flung her arms round him. ‘Oh, John! It’s just perfect. Thank you. Thank you!’

A couple of the men had been in to lay and light the fires, keeping an eye on them until the hour John had said he’d be back. Rosie threw off her warm, outer clothes and danced jubilantly around the small house, exclaiming with delight at each new treat, while John lit the lamps and put the brand new kettle on the range for a welcome pot of tea – their first in the new home. He was tired but very pleased with Rosie’s – his wife’s – unfeigned pleasure. He wanted her to be happy.

Later, when the first rush of excitement had settled to a feeling of contentment, they opened their presents together.

There was a flat-iron; a blue and cream china tea-set; a pair of cushion-cases; a pretty lamp; lavender bags that scented the air and other useful items that were made to suit different rooms in the house. ‘You asked them to buy things for the cottage, didn’t you?’ she said, and this time, when she threw her arms round him, she didn’t let go. Guiding his hands, she helped him to unbutton her pretty lilac blouse and to slide it off her shoulders. The single strand of pearls he had given her as a present gleamed in the soft light and he gazed at the fullness of her breasts beneath the virginal chemise.

‘Make love to me,’ she whispered naughtily. ‘I’m your wife and I demand it.’

‘You’re a hussy!’ He smiled at her boldness. ‘But you’re so pretty, how can a man refuse?’

There and then on the peg-rug in front of the fire he took her to himself, with reluctant passion at first. Inevitably, and much because of Rosie’s unbridled enthusiasm, the passion deepened and in spite of his misgivings, he could not hold back. To Rosie, and to John, the lovemaking was both satisfying and beautiful.

Afterwards they sat together on the rug, looking into the fire. ‘Got another little surprise.’ John opened the lid of the portmanteau and reaching inside, extracted a bottle of best wine. ‘Compliments of the landlord,’ he quipped. There were two glasses, a bottle-opener and a large pork-pie as well.

Filling the glasses, John handed Rosie one and holding his glass to hers, he said quietly, ‘Here’s to happiness and contentment.’ Though without Emily, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find either.

‘I’ll make you a good wife, John, I promise.’ It was as though Rosie had read his thoughts.

‘I know,’ he answered. ‘And I’ll do my best to make you a good husband.’

‘And we’ll build our business up to be even bigger and better.’

‘The best in Liverpool, if not the world,’ he teased her.

‘And later, we’ll have children, won’t we?’

‘Dozens,’ he laughed. ‘All pretty and hardworking, like you.’

‘Oh, so that’s why you married me, is it?’ she demanded with a playful dig in the ribs. ‘Because I’m a work-horse?’

‘Of course. Why else would I marry somebody who can’t fry an egg without burning it to a cinder?’

She laughed out loud. ‘I wish I hadn’t told you about that now.’

Their laughter rippled across the room, before in a more sober mood she reminded him, ‘I know we didn’t marry altogether out of love … and I know it was my idea to merge the businesses and make our relationship more permanent.’

John recalled the very conversation. ‘It was a good idea,’ he confirmed. ‘It secured two of our best contracts. Merging the businesses was the best thing we ever did.’

‘I agree,’ she said. ‘Only I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. But I did, and to tell you the truth, I couldn’t be happier.’

He smiled at that. ‘I’m glad, Rosie,’ he said sincerely. ‘You deserve to be happy.’ And so she did, he thought. Rosie was a delightful person, with a heart as big and kind as he had ever known, and though he didn’t feel the same kind of joy with Rosie as he used to when he was with Emily, he thought a great deal of her, in his own quiet way.

Touching her hand to his face, she stroked it gently. ‘My happiness would be complete if only you could feel the same way,’ she whispered.

Draping an arm round her shoulders, he drew her closer. He didn’t speak, because just then Emily came into his mind and subdued him.

Rosie sensed his sadness, and curling into the crook of his arm, she let him know she was there for him. No matter whatever else might happen in the future, she would always be there for him.

That night Lizzie’s conscience would not let her rest. Long after she had said good night to Harriet, she paced the bedroom floor, thinking and worrying, and realising, not for the first time, how she had been wrong all along. Wrong to turn her back on Emily; wrong to have jumped to conclusions when what she should have done was talk with the lass, try and help, instead of damning her from the outset.

And she was even more wrong to have sent John away, believing the shocking lie that Emily was already wed. Maybe if she hadn’t interfered in such a high-handed manner, John and Emily might have salvaged something good from a bad situation, and neither of them would now be wed to someone else. They belonged together. They had always belonged together, and it was she who had driven them apart.

It was striking two o’clock when Lizzie finally fell into bed, but even then she didn’t sleep. Instead she lay awake fidgeting and fretting, and wondering how she could put things right. She heard the hallway clock strike three, then four, but heard no more until Harriet tapped on the door at half-past seven.

‘I thought you might like a cup of tea,’ the big woman said, poking her face round the door. ‘For breakfast there’s toast, bacon and egg, muffins and porridge. Which do you fancy?’ Entering the room, she placed the cup and saucer on the bedside cabinet, surprised to see Lizzie making no effort to sit up. ‘Just tell me what you want and I’ll have it up here quick as a wink.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t face breakfast,’ Lizzie answered faintly. ‘Thank you for the tea though. It’s just what I need to get me going.’

Having opened the curtains wider, Harriet seated herself on the bed. She noticed how slow Lizzie was in sitting up, and how, when she took hold of the cup, it rattled against the saucer. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked worriedly. ‘Did you not sleep well?’

‘I’m a bit woozy.’ Lizzie laughed it off. ‘I must have drunk too much wine last night.’

‘No, you didn’t.’ Harriet chided. ‘You had one glass, same as me, and you hardly ate anything, so it can’t be the food that’s upset you.’

Lizzie brushed aside the other woman’s concern. ‘I’m allus slow to wake,’ she lied. ‘I’ll be right as rain, once I’ve had this cuppa tea.’ In truth she didn’t feel at all well, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

‘If you’re sure?’ Harriet had no choice but to take her at her word, though she thought the old dear looked pale and worn. ‘I’ll leave you to get washed and dressed.’

It was an hour later when Lizzie came down. Harriet had served breakfast to her one remaining guest, apart from Archie, and was just saying goodbye to him. ‘See you next month,’ she said, closing the front door and fishing out her tin of snuff for a welcome pinch or two.

On seeing Lizzie, she explained, ‘He’s one of these unfortunate men who go round the shops trying to sell merchandise … He arrives here once a month and stays for two nights. Always seems worn out, poor thing. It must be hard making a living trying to sell things to them as don’t want them.’

Eager for a womanly natter, Harriet soon had Lizzie and herself seated at the kitchen table, with a fresh brew in front of them. ‘Your nephew is a real credit to you,’ she said.

‘John is my pride and joy,’ Lizzie answered, her eyes shining. ‘He came to me as a little lad, and I took him in as my own son. It wasn’t easy, mind. We didn’t have much money and there were times when I thought I’d never manage. But we got through, and I’ve never regretted one single minute of it.’

‘And what do you think of Rosie?’ Dipping a shop-bought biscuit in her hot tea, Harriet tutted when it got sodden and fell in.

Lizzie didn’t hesitate in her answer. ‘She’s a very pleasant young thing. I liked her.’ No one had been more surprised than Lizzie, when she took to Rosie straight off. ‘I do, yes,’ she affirmed. ‘I like the lass.’

‘She loves your John, that’s for sure.’ Fishing the melted biscuit out, Harriet licked it off the spoon. ‘Head over heels, she is.’ Swigging a gulp of her tea, she was confronted by another mouthful of biscuit, which she quickly swallowed. ‘You’ve only to see her with John, to know how much she dotes on him.’

‘I can tell that, yes.’