The Girl in the Scrapbook Carolyn Ruffles (read an ebook week txt) 📖

Every word she spoke was clearly audible so they were already aware of the outcome by the time she rejoined them. They were putting their coats back on as she burst in.

‘All sorted. I’ve written down her address for you.’ She handed Jennifer a slip of paper. ‘She’s really looking forward to meeting you. There’s nothing Daisy likes better than chatting about the old days.’  Still talking, she led them back to the front door. ‘And I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Shall we say the same time? I’ll try to remember the biscuits!’

‘Please don’t go to any trouble on our account,’ Jennifer said. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

‘No trouble, none at all.’ Angela waved them off and they walked briskly, feeling the chill after the almost cloying warmth of her cottage.

Back in the High Street, they parted company. Jennifer wanted to pick up a few groceries and Emily, as promised, headed off towards the play area. They agreed to meet for lunch at the Fox and Hare at half past twelve.

Jennifer stood for a moment and smiled as she watched Emily wheeling Alex’s buggy expertly along the pavement. She was buzzing from the morning’s success so she could imagine the excitement Emily must be feeling. Hopefully, Daisy Stanhope would be able to tell her all about the family in the photo and know something about the mystery man and child. A thrill of anticipation tingled down her spine. She could not wait!

As she turned to enter the grocery store, she spotted David Brewer’s silver Audi heading towards her down the street. She stiffened her spine and schooled her features into a smile while, subconsciously, her right hand reached up to smooth her hair into place. Despite the success of their evening out together, she hadn't seen him since and, whilst she told herself that a casual friendship was fine by her, she couldn't help but feel disappointed and a little hurt. The kiss he'd given her was imprinted on her memory, seared on her brain like a brand, and had led her to believe that there was definitely a connection between them. He had phoned on Christmas Eve to wish her a happy Christmas and good luck with the Carters’ stay and she had told him she had more customers booked in January but there was no getting away from it. She had expected him to call after Christmas to suggest another outing and felt very let down that he hadn't done so.

As the car approached, she realised he was not alone. A woman was sat in the passenger seat – sleek brown hair, bright red lips, Pandora Pardew. His head was turned slightly towards her and he was laughing at something she was saying. At the last moment, he glanced her way and gave her a grin and a belated wave as he continued along the street and out of sight.

Jennifer was not the type of person who ordinarily jumped to conclusions but she frowned nonetheless. No wonder she had heard nothing from him, she thought crossly. He was obviously otherwise engaged. The man was clearly nothing but a flirt and she resolved to steer well clear of him in future.

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Chapter 18

Norah – August 1930

Norah sank into the comfort of the soft, threadbare chair, thankful to escape the oppressive heatwave which mid-August had brought to Great Chalkham. She would rest for just a few minutes, she told herself, her hands lightly stroking her swollen belly. The baby was due in October – still six weeks away – and she felt incredibly tired, hot and bothered. Being heavily pregnant in mid-summer was definitely a bad idea. She would have to plan the next one a little better. Of course, it didn't help that she also had an energetic, two-and-a-half-year-old son to cope with at the same time. He was outside, under the shade of a beech tree, playing with some toy soldiers given him by Agnes Catchpole whose sons had outgrown them.

Earlier that afternoon, they had been out in the fields where Arthur was working, watching the corn harvester at work. Norah made this trip every day at dinner time to take Arthur a hot meal in a billy can. Today, it had been stew and dumplings. They had sat with him while he ate, beads of perspiration gleaming on his forehead and covered in wheat dust. Then Jimmy had found himself a stick, like many of the older village children who waited at the end of the field, hoping to catch themselves a rabbit or two as they fled through the standing crop. They were trying to get away from the horse drawn binder which was busy cutting the corn and tying it into bundles called shoafs. The shoafs were then put into ‘shocks’, each shock made from twelve shoafs arranged in an inverted V-shape. Norah had watched Jimmy running unsteadily, short, sturdy legs pumping, falling often and flailing his little stick as the rabbits darted round him. He had stuck at it for a long while, determined to be like the other children, until Norah had thought he had been out in the sun long enough. He cried that he hadn't caught anything.

‘Maybe you will next year when you’re a bit bigger,’ Norah consoled him.

They walked the half mile back to the cottage, keeping as much as possible within the shade of the hedgerows, and drank a much-needed cup of water. It would not be long until four o’clock, when Arthur would be expecting his tea, or ‘farses’ as the men called it. Harvest time was hard work for everyone, even those not directly involved in it. They were all thankful for this spell of hot, dry weather to get the crop safely gathered in but it made for long, back-aching, sweat-ridden days.

Norah felt a sudden lurch in her stomach as the baby shifted inside her. She, the baby, was moving less frequently now as the birth drew closer. From the onset