A Family Secret: No. 1 Bestseller of family drama

‘Good afternoon to you,’ Tony responded. ‘I’m guessing you’re here to smarten up the Blue Bench?’

‘Right you are,’ answered the Irishman, ‘but it seems downright rude to turf the ladies off when they look so comfortable. I’m guessing you’re on holiday, is that so?’

‘I think that’s a fairly safe bet,’ said Marie with a smile.

‘Smart as well as pretty,’ said the irrepressible workman, lifting his flat cap politely. ‘Though it just happens I do have a bit of a gift – being the seventh son of a seventh daughter – and I can tell ye a thing or two about yerself ye wouldn’t expect me to know.’

The other workman rolled his dark eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Just listen to his blarney,’ he said as Eileen dug Marie in the ribs with her elbow and they whispered and giggled.

‘All right, you’re on,’ said Marie, ‘but I’m not crossing your palm with silver.’

‘No need, dear lady,’ answered the little fella. ‘My gift is free to a beauty like you.’

‘Hark at him,’ guffawed the big man, who had a Scots accent.

‘All right, then, where are we from?’ asked Eileen.

Fortunately for Danny, Eileen had the distinctive accent of the area, and Danny had a good ear for the various Lancashire and Cheshire voices that were so often heard among the Blackpool holidaymakers. When he’d guessed right, his answer greeted with oohs of admiration, he decided to direct the conversation back to the young mother before he got out of his depth.

‘Now, give me your hand,’ he said, and Marie half-reluctantly extended her left hand into his none-too-clean, rough and work-worn one with a slightly nervous smile.

He studied her hand carefully for half a minute, then said, ‘Now I can see that you’re married, am I right?’

Marie, Eileen and Tony caught each other’s eyes and rocked with mirth.

‘I think the wedding ring is a bit of a clue,’ Marie spluttered, and this time all of them were laughing.

‘All right … all right … Let me see … I see a handsome husband, a tall man with dark hair. He’s a bit older than you are. Would I be right?’

‘Yes!’ said Marie. ‘How did you know that?’

‘It’s the gift,’ said the workman. ‘And … what’s this? A child, a little girl … maybe four or five years old?’

‘Right again,’ gasped Marie. ‘Anne is four. How did you know that? You really do have a gift, don’t you?’

‘The gift of the gab,’ said the big fella. ‘Only saw you on the beach earlier, didn’t we?’

Marie snatched her hand away, tutting at her own gullibility, but she couldn’t be cross at the charming rogue with the twinkly blue eyes.

‘You had me for a moment there,’ she smiled.

‘Me, too,’ said Tony, impressed with the friendliness of these two likely lads. ‘Do you always try your “gift” with the visitors?’

‘Only the pretty ones,’ the big Scot answered. ‘I’m John Ferguson, by the way, known as Big John round these parts, and this is my workmate and partner in mischief, Danny Magee, known as Danny Boy.’

‘Tony and Eileen Withers.’

‘And I’m Marie Foster.’

‘Your round, I think,’ said Big John to Danny, inexplicably to the others.

The young workmen appeared to be in absolutely no hurry to begin their painting and settled down on the path in front of the bench where they continued to chat. They asked about the visitors’ holiday plans and what they had seen so far. Eileen passed round the bag of humbugs and John and Danny moved on to entertaining anecdotes about their various tasks as handymen for Blackpool Corporation. It was clear they were often in trouble with their boss and had probably held on to their jobs partly through a combination of low cunning and charm, and partly by being rather good at what they did – when they were actually doing it.

‘Right …’ said Danny, rubbing his hands together in a show of enthusiasm for the task ahead, ‘I think you and I had better be starting on this here Blue Bench, if these lovely people don’t mind?’

‘No, of course you must get on. And so must we,’ said Eileen. ‘Heavens, Marie, have you seen the time? Derek and Anne will think we’ve gone back to Cheshire and left them.’

‘Oh, good grief!’ Marie exclaimed, looking at her watch. ‘I said I wouldn’t be long, I’d better run ahead. Goodbye, Danny, goodbye Big John. I hope we’ll see you around. We’ve got a couple more days here so I’ll look out for you.’

‘We all will,’ said Tony, shaking hands with the workmen. ‘See you soon.’

‘I hope so,’ said Danny, looking especially at Marie. ‘And if not this year, then maybe next year?’

‘If I’m not on the other side of the world,’ said John.

‘Or in the clink,’ said Danny, and as he watched the three friends happily making their way down to the beach he thought that Marie really did have the prettiest laugh he’d ever heard.

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CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_13c3740d-ecc5-5b19-999a-02b7a4f4973b)

Blackpool, July 1970

EILEEN PRIMPED HER perm with the large-tooth comb then patted her bubbly new hairstyle in place. She put the comb on the hotel bedroom dressing table and, peering into the looking-glass, applied a slick of coral lipstick.

‘Will I do?’ she asked Tony.

Tony heaved himself out of the armchair and came closer to admire his wife. She’d kept her slim figure and always made an effort to look good, but over the last twenty years her face had grown sharper, the line of her mouth disappointed. Not that he was looking so dapper himself these days, what with the extra weight and the thinning hair. Once she’d told him he was love’s young dream – that seemed a long time ago. He knew the lines of disappointment on Eileen’s once-pretty face were there because of him.

‘As proud to have you on my arm as always. You’d give any of those dolly birds on the beach a run for their money.’

‘Even though I’m old enough to be their grandma?’

‘To me you look as good as the day I married you.’ Tony beamed at her, pleased to make her happy this evening. ‘I’ve booked our favourite restaurant on the Promenade for seven o’clock.’

‘Oh, Tony, you are spoiling me. We’ve had such a lovely holiday that I shan’t want to go home.’

‘Me neither, love.’ For a moment he looked stricken, an expression on his face that Eileen had seen a few times over the last few days.

‘Tony, you are all right, aren’t you?’ she asked.

Tony was looking distinctly uncomfortable now. ‘It’s just that … well … I’ve had a letter.’

‘Bad news? It’s nothing to do with Beth or her brother, is it? I’ve never liked that fella she’s married to and it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t treat her right. I know she’s only a friend and I should mind my own business, but she’s such a lovely girl and I’ve grown that fond of her I feel that she is my business, if you know what I mean?’

‘No, it’s nothing to do with Beth or Ronnie.’

‘Then what? Come on, Tony, I’m dying of suspense.’