Her mother’s eyes flashed. ‘I-I was . . . busy!’

‘Oh yes, you’re always busy, aren’t you, Agatha.’ Milly could hear the sarcasm in her father’s voice. ‘Too busy for your children, too busy for your husband . . .’

‘I love my children,’ Agatha protested.

‘But not enough to find the time to buy one of them a pair of shoes.’

‘I’m sorry about the bloody shoes. I forgot. I do have other things to think about.’ And rounding on Milly, her mother said, ‘And if you had a ha’porth of sense in that silly head of yours, you should have reminded me.’

‘Don’t blame the child,’ said her father, throwing himself into his chair. ‘The only thoughts in your head are about what you want.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, don’t start all that again!’ Agatha snarled.

‘Oh Mummy, I did try to tell you,’ Milly said plaintively.

‘Go to your room, Millicent,’ her mother shrieked.

Milly didn’t need telling twice.

Later that evening when the dinner gong sounded, Milly ventured downstairs to find her parents were hardly speaking to each other. The rest of the weekend followed the same pattern, spiteful arguments followed by long silences, and there were times when Milly felt like piggy-in-the-middle. It was obvious that this would mark a complete change in their family arrangements. Somehow Milly knew that her mother would spend most of her time in the London flat from now on. Her parents might not be getting a divorce, but to all intents and purposes they were going to lead separate lives.

It was almost a relief to be going back to school on Sunday afternoon. Her mother was having some friends over for tennis after luncheon so, as soon as the meal was over, Milly went upstairs to change into her uniform. It was all laid out on the bed and her new shoes were perfect.

Milly reached for her school hat on the dressing table. Knowing how fussy her mother was, she sat in front of the mirror to put it on correctly. That’s when she saw it. Her hat was straight but as she looked into the glass, she saw something behind her left shoulder that almost made her heart stop. There on the bookshelf sat her dolly. She recognised her at once, even though she looked completely different. Her wild and uneven hair had been trimmed into an attractive bob, and she wore a pretty pink headband with a beautiful crocheted rose at the side. Her dress was floral, in a matching pink, and there was a white broderie anglaise petticoat peeping out from under the hem. Her eye had been partially restored, although it was still slightly out of kilter with the other one. The doll’s face had been thoroughly cleaned.

Milly’s heart was thumping in her chest. How had she got there?

‘Millicent,’ her mother called. ‘Come down now, dear. I want to say goodbye.’

Judging by the soft tone of her voice, her mother’s friends must have arrived. Milly chewed her bottom lip anxiously. Taking the doll from the shelf, she wrapped it in a blue shawl which was draped over the back of the chair, and looked around desperately, trying to find a place to hide it. Her mother must never see it and, if Pearl knew it was here, she’d only make trouble. Behind the bookcase, perhaps? No – the maid would spot it when she cleaned the room. On the shelf? No – someone would be bound to wonder why it was all wrapped up. Her gaze fell to the large drawer at the bottom of the chest of drawers. Milly pulled it open and stuffed the doll right at the back. Careful to leave everything else tidy at the front, she was confident no one would ever guess it was there.

‘Millicent!’ her mother called irritably. ‘What on earth are you doing? Hurry up.’

Pushing the drawer closed, Milly called, ‘Coming, Mother.’

She was still trembling as she hurried downstairs and, just as she suspected, the hall was filled with women in tennis outfits. Her mother gave her a perfunctory air kiss on both cheeks. ‘Be a good girl, darling,’ she said to the coos and approving sighs from the tennis players.

As they disappeared, Milly felt her knees give way.

‘All right, Milly?’ her father said as he caught her in his arms. ‘No need to be nervous. I’ve had a word with Miss Christie and you’ll soon settle into the swing of things.’

They walked outside to the car and he opened the back passenger door to let her in. Leaning in after her, he kissed her cheek. ‘Did you see your dolly?’ he asked innocently. ‘Lena found it for you and Nan cleaned her up and made her a new dress. Wasn’t that kind of them?’

Milly bit back her tears and nodded.

‘I want you to write a letter to both of them to say thank you,’ her father instructed. ‘Address it to me and I’ll see that they get it.’

He stepped back and closed the door. Dixon started the car and they set off. Milly and her father waved to each other until he was out of sight, but when she sat back she was filled with shame. The dolly looked wonderful but if Lena had found it by the eaves, it must mean only one thing.

Lena had heard everything she and Pearl had said that night.

Chapter 9

August 1937

‘You won’t forget to write.’

Susan Tice had run up to the car just as Uncle Neville was putting the suitcases in the boot. Milly turned around and gave her new best friend a hug. ‘Of course I will – and you have a wonderful time.’

The two of them had spent many happy hours together since Milly had accepted an invitation to stay with Aunt Betsy (Milly’s father’s sister) and Uncle Neville during the school holidays. Now that Milly was going back home, Susan, who lived next door to her aunt, was going to Devon to stay with her grandmother for the rest of the summer.

Uncle Neville opened the passenger door of his 1930 Sunbeam and put Milly’s painting things on the back seat while she climbed in. A minute or two later, he set off for the station in West Moors where she would catch the train to Worthing. Now that she was seventeen years old, she would be doing the journey on her own, including two changes, one at Brockenhurst and another at Southampton. The thought was both scary and exciting. The two friends waved to each other until they were out of sight, and then Milly settled back in her seat.

‘Glad to be going home?’ Uncle Neville asked.

Milly nodded. ‘I’ve had a wonderful time,’ she said politely, ‘but yes, I shall be glad to be home.’

‘We shall miss you,’ Uncle Neville said with a chuckle. ‘The place will be so quiet without you.’

Milly knew he was teasing her. She didn’t get to see them very often, but she loved going to stay with Aunt Betsy. She never saw that much of Uncle Neville because he was a barrister and spent time in Dorchester at the county assizes. Also as a member of Bournemouth Council and the Parochial Church Council in his local church, he often had committee meetings. But of all her relatives, beside her father, he and Aunt Betsy treated her the best.

They had no children of their own, which was a shame really, because they would have been great parents. They always treated her so kindly and she had had a wonderful time playing with Susan next-door. Despite this, she was still anxious to get home.

If Milly had told Uncle Neville the real reason for wanting to be back in Findon, he might have been surprised. The truth of the matter was that she was looking forward to seeing Lena again.

Milly pursed her lips as she recalled the night so many years before when she and Pearl had sat in the dark under the window of the cottage and voiced that dreadful curse. Even after all this time, the horror and the shame had never really left her. There were times when she told herself she was being ridiculous – that it had been nothing more than silly, childish nonsense. Sometimes she wanted to confess everything but she was too scared. What if Lena hated her afterwards? What if her father got angry? Often the self-reproach of what she had done weighed heavily on her heart. It had been particularly bad after Lena’s mother had died, in the autumn of 1930. Pearl had been elated, but Milly hadn’t shared her excitement. For years she had worried that she and Pearl had actually caused Angel’s death. Would she be damned to hell for what they had done? Milly didn’t tell a living soul what she was thinking, not even Pearl. And she certainly could never admit her culpability. Her father had put her distress down to feeling sorry for Lena.

With her mother dead, and Lena being only nine years old, she couldn’t stay in the cottage on her own. So their father had arranged for her to live with Nan Martin in her cottage at the bottom of Bost Hill. Milly’s mother and sister still had no idea about Lena. Nan had no children of her own, but she was a loving and caring woman, so Charles knew that Lena would be well looked after. Milly was allowed to go to see Lena whenever she liked in the school holidays, although she was savvy enough to make sure that her mother and Pearl were never home when she biked along the new Findon bypass to Nan’s place.

When Pearl left school, their mother had begun a two-year preparation period in readiness for her coming out. After spending almost a year at ‘finishing school’ in Switzerland, she was taken to Italy on a sort of mini grand tour. From there, she and her mother went to America. On the eve of her nineteenth birthday, Pearl received an invitation from the Lord Chamberlain in the post and, along with a great many other debutantes, she had been presented to the new but as yet uncrowned King Edward VIII, in a ceremony which marked the beginning of the social season. Right now, Milly’s mother and her sister were in London going to parties, sometimes more than one a night, where eligible young women did their best to attract eligible young bachelors, who would preferably be both rich and handsome.

It was of some relief to Milly that she wasn’t included. She knew she could never live up to her mother’s exacting standards, and sometimes the pressure to please was crippling. No matter how hard Milly tried, Agatha was always quick to criticise.

‘Sit up straight, Millicent, and for goodness’ sake take off those wretched glasses.’

‘But Mummy, I really can’t see without them.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! You look like an owl.’

Once Pearl’s season was over, Milly would be expected to follow the same path. Her sister had crammed so much into her coming out preparation, but for Milly, the thought of an endless round of buying new clothes, finding the best hairdressers and getting party invitations from the rich and well connected, all designed to result in marriage to some boorish young chap, filled her with dread. However, the one thing she was looking forward to was the travel. Who wouldn’t want to wander the slopes of Switzerland or go to art galleries in Florence? She would take her paints, and if possible her easel. Having been enrolled by her father in the Worthing School of Art and Science, Milly had become quite a clever artist. The course was for two years and Milly worked hard, something her father applauded even if her mother only sniffed at her work.

Even though she’d never breathed a word about what she and Pearl had done, Milly and Lena had grown much closer. With her mother and Pearl so frequently away in London, Milly was often on her own during the holidays. It gave her the opportunity to paint and to see more of Lena.

‘You look miles away,’ Uncle Neville remarked.

Milly sat up. ‘Do I? I’m sorry. I was just remembering.’

Uncle Neville chuckled and – completely misunderstand-ing her remark – said, ‘You and Susan certainly seemed to enjoy yourselves.’