Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

But someone else was quicker.

‘You’re all right, sonny.’ Thanks to the passer-by, the boy was snatched away only a second or two before the wagon would have come thundering down on him.

Amy grabbed Johnny into her arms. ‘Thank God you’re not hurt!’ She had been so frightened by the incident, she could hardly breathe, but once she realised he was unharmed, her fear evaporated and anger took its place. ‘That was a stupid thing to do!’ she chided. ‘It’s a wonder you weren’t killed!’

‘I think your son has probably learned his lesson.’

At the sound of the man’s voice, both Amy and the boy looked up. Amy was mortified. In her panic she hadn’t even looked at him, never mind thanked him. Embarrassed and astonished, now she recognised the rescuer as the man Daisy referred to as ‘the Tuesday man’. His dark hair was covered by a flat cap, which was drawn down low, and over his heavy work cords, he had on a thick black coat done up to the neck. His smile, though, was warm and handsome, and now as he looked at her with those intense eyes, she felt as though they had known each other for ever.

‘Oh, look, I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’ It didn’t register that he called Johnny her son.

‘There’s no need to thank me,’ he answered quietly. ‘I’m just glad to have been of help.’

He looked at the sodden shopping bags where she had dropped them to the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he said, collecting them up. ‘How far are you going?’

‘No, thanks all the same, but I’ll be fine now. I can manage well enough.’

‘If you’re sure?’

‘I am … thank you.’

Reluctantly, he handed her the bags. ‘Then I’ll be on my way.’

Luke bade them goodbye and strode off, his mind in turmoil. He had just spoken to the young woman in his painting. Close to, she was even prettier than he’d imagined – not exquisitely pretty, he thought, but reliably, unforgettably pretty, which was different. He’d imagined being with her so often – together at the cabin, walking in the woods arm in arm, her face lifted to the sun where it filtered through the trees, laughing … Or in the cabin, the only light from the log fire, the silent wood dark around them – they’d be sitting together, their hands lightly clasped in one another’s, relaxed in peaceful and instinctive understanding.

Now they had met – and it wasn’t in circumstances Luke had envisaged at all. How could he bridge the gulf between these long-held dreams and this unforeseen reality?

For one mad, inexplicable moment he wanted to go back. He wanted to look into those mesmerising dark blue eyes and talk with her, just to be near her and hear her voice.

‘You’re not making sense,’ he told himself. ‘She’s married, with a child.’ And the disappointment he felt was like a physical pain inside him.

Deeply shaken, both by Johnny’s narrow escape and the brief meeting with Daisy’s ‘Tuesday man’, Amy watched him walk away.

‘That man likes you.’ Johnny said it as he saw it.

Thankful that the boy couldn’t see her blushes, Amy asked, ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I do, that’s all.’

Amy laughed. ‘You’re an old head on young shoulders, that’s what you are.’

‘That’s what Mammy says.’

‘I know,’ Amy admitted. ‘And now I know why she says it.’

‘I’m hungry.’

‘I’ll get you some food soonever we get to Mrs Tooley’s.’

‘Who’s Mrs Tooley?’

Amy was used to the boy’s constant questioning, but she was delighted by it because it told her he was losing his nervousness and wanting to know more about what went on around him. ‘Mrs Tooley owns the café where Daisy works,’ she informed him. ‘Now put your hand in my pocket and don’t let go!’

Walking close to the shop windows she did not give way for anybody as they set off in the direction of Tooley’s Café. Even when a woman with a big pram tried to get between her and the wall, Amy would not budge. The last thing she wanted was for Johnny to get close to the road edge again.

Daisy was delighted to see them. ‘Look at the pair of you!’ Grabbing Amy’s umbrella she shook it and left it in the porch. ‘You’ll catch your death o’ cold.’ Ushering them inside, she took Amy’s bags and went ahead to the table by the radiator. ‘I’ll be back with a pot o’ tea in a minute,’ she declared, marching off in a hurry. Meanwhile, Amy and Johnny took off their coats and hats, and draped them over the backs of the two chairs nearest the radiator.

By the time they were settled, Daisy was back. ‘How does that do yer?’ she asked, planting the tray on the table. ‘One giant pot o’ tea.’ She gave Amy a wink. ‘I reckon I’ll join yer,’ she said, ‘being as there’s not much on at the minute.’

Amy smiled to herself. Whenever the café was quiet, and even when it wasn’t, Daisy always invited herself to sit down. ‘Mrs Tooley’s out then?’ That much was obvious.

Flopping into the chair, Daisy drew it up to the table and began to pour. ‘She’s off for lunch with Mr Leyton,’ she answered, rolling her eyes. ‘The way she’s tarted up, anybody would think she were off to the palace for a meeting with His Majesty.’

She poured three cups of tea – one with more milk to cool it quicker, and this one she put before Johnny. ‘Sup up, lad,’ she encouraged with a friendly little grin. ‘It’ll warm the soles of yer feet.’

Johnny took the cup, wrapping his hands round it. ‘But my feet aren’t cold,’ he told Daisy.

‘Oh, aren’t they?’ Giving Amy a wink, she asked the boy, ‘Where are you cold then?’

‘I’m not.’

Daisy feigned surprise. ‘My word, yer a brave little thing aren’t yer, eh? You’ve been outside in all that rain and you look like a drowned rat, and you’re not even cold.’ She gave an almighty shiver. ‘I would be.’

Johnny made a disappointed face. ‘I’m just hungry.’

‘Well!’ Staring at him in astonishment, Daisy’s eyes grew round as marbles. ‘Why didn’t yer tell me that before,’ she asked incredulously, ‘because I think I can help you there? Y’see, I’ve got some big fat pork sausages just waiting to be fried. Would you like that?’

Clapping his hands excitedly, the boy jumped up and down in his chair. ‘Ooh! Yes, please … and a chukkie egg and a buttie?’

‘Right! I’ll have it back here afore you can finish that tea. Bacon buttie is it, lass?’ she asked Amy.

‘That’ll be lovely, Daisy, thanks.’

While Amy and the boy supped their tea, Daisy got to work, and it wasn’t long before she was back. ‘Get that down you,’ she said, dishing out the food between the three of them. ‘I thought I’d join you.’

The buttie on her plate was thick as a doorstop and oozing with butter and, like Amy’s, it was packed with crispy, fried bacon and thick slices of tomato. Now, as Daisy bit into it, the butter trickled down her chin, only to be licked up with the length of her pink tongue. ‘Though I say it meself, I can mek the best bacon buttie in the whole of Lancashire.’ Picking out a sliver of pink wavy bacon, she popped it into her mouth and quickly devoured it.

‘You say Mrs Tooley’s gone to lunch?’ Amy asked. ‘It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?’

Daisy nodded. ‘That’s what I thought, but she’s probably gone to have her nails done or summat, or the lines on her legs painted straighter.’ She chuckled. ‘Honest to God, lass, I don’t know why she can’t lay out a bob or two and buy herself some proper nylons. You should have seen the way she painted them lines … went down her legs like crooked tramlines.’

Amy thought it was a shame. ‘You should have told her.’

‘Naw. Why should I? The old cow makes my life a misery, so what should I care?’ She laughed out loud. ‘Besides, if she thinks to fool that fella of hers into thinking she’s got a fancy pair o’ nylon stockings on, he’ll soon find out when he gets his hand under …’ Remembering Johnny was there, she dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Once they get at it, if you know what I mean, there won’t be any lines left to talk about, will there?’

Amy shook her head. ‘You’re wicked, you are.’

Half an hour later, warmed and fed, Amy and Daisy were talking of their next dates with Jack and Roy, while Johnny played round the tables.