‘You and me both,’ Milly blurted out. There was a short silence then they both laughed. She felt comfortable with him. They chatted for a while and she discovered that his father was a Member of Parliament and that his mother was dead. He had a brother at Oxford reading history and his little sister had been the victim of polio.

‘She wears callipers now,’ he said dully. He sighed. ‘Because of her, I had ambitions to be a doctor, but I’m no bloody good at maths or Latin. Got to have both to be a doctor, d’you see.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Milly.

‘Added to that,’ he said with an exaggerated sigh, ‘I always faint at the sight of blood.’

Milly couldn’t help laughing.

‘Useless Eustace,’ he said, picking some cigarette paper from his bottom lip. ‘That’s what they used to call me at school. Useless Eustace.’

‘Oh, don’t say that,’ she chided. ‘I’m sure you’re really good at something but you obviously haven’t found it yet. I think you’re destined to walk a different path, that’s all.’

He turned and looked at her, a smile beginning on his lips. ‘Why thank you, Milly Shepherd. That’s the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.’

She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her, but someone was calling her name. Milly got to her feet and let the jacket slide from her shoulders. ‘That’s my sister,’ she said. ‘I have to go.’

Taking it, he gave her a mock salute. ‘Nice to have met you, Milly.’

‘You too,’ said Milly as she turned to run.

Chapter 14

Milly was absolutely dog-tired when she got home. Surprisingly, Mrs Cunningham had waited up for them, even though it was one in the morning.

‘Could I have a word with you, madam,’ she said as Agatha headed for the stairs.

‘It’ll have to wait until the morning.’

‘I’m afraid it can’t,’ said the cook. ‘It’s about your husband.’

Agatha turned with an irritated expression on her face. ‘What about him?’

‘I’m afraid Mr Shepherd has been taken to hospital,’ said Mrs Cunningham.

Milly took in her breath noisily. Pearl pushed past her and continued up the stairs.

‘He was taken ill and we telephoned for Dr Jennings,’ Mrs Cunningham continued. ‘After he’d examined him, the doctor sent for an ambulance. They took him to Worthing Hospital.’

Milly was deeply shocked. ‘Taken ill? What does that mean? Will he be all right?’

Mrs Cunningham opened her mouth but Agatha cut her short. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it now,’ she said, mounting the stairs. ‘We’ll see to it in the morning. Thank you, Mrs Cunningham, and goodnight.’

‘But Mother, shouldn’t we telephone the hospital to see how he is?’ Milly cried.

‘What difference would it make?’ Agatha said without turning. ‘Like I said, we’ll see to it in the morning. Now come along. It’s time for bed.’

Milly was rooted to the spot. She stared helplessly at Mrs Cunningham, who mouthed, ‘He’ll be fine.’

‘I think . . .’ Milly began.

‘I shall not tell you again, Millicent!’ her mother shouted from the upstairs landing. ‘Get to bed.’ She paused. ‘And goodnight, Mrs Cunningham.’

Even though she was very tired, Milly spent a restless night. As soon as she was on her own, her tears flowed. Poor Father. It must be because of that cough of his. She was aware that it had got a lot worse and now she regretted not saying something about it. He probably thought that nobody cared.

Not wanting to face her mother or Pearl again, she’d struggled out of the flouncy dress on her own and, in the process, trodden on one of the frills. There had been a loud ripping sound but she didn’t care. She had made a vow that she would never, ever wear anything like it again. Her hair, which hadn’t moved an inch all evening, was like a rock. Whatever was that stuff the hairdresser had put on it? She sat in front of her mirror, desperately trying to brush it out as her tears flowed. Tears for her father but also tears for herself. She was being bullied and pushed into a way of life which she didn’t want. No, more than that, which she hated. Some of the people she’d met tonight were all right. People like Eustace; she’d liked him. The rest were shallow. They had belittled her and made her feel as if she didn’t belong. She thought back to the moment when she’d made that mistake in front of the mirror. No one, apart from Pearl, knew how much she needed her glasses, but the first sound of their laughter had been so humiliating, and even though she had redeemed herself, the thought of it still chilled her.

Her hair looking like a frizzy triangle, Milly climbed into bed and switched off the light. That’s when she thought of Lena. Charles was her father too. Milly would have to let Lena know that he was ill. She owed her that much. Charles was the only parent Lena had left. Once again, the same old sickening memory filtered through her mind. ‘May this doll bring a thousand curses upon the Jezebel who stole our father . . .’ If only she could turn the clock back. Why had she done it? How could she explain herself to Lena? Yet she had to. She just had to. Milly stared at the ceiling. What are you, Milly Shepherd – a woman or a mouse?

And another thing . . . She’d have to stand up to her mother. If she was going to make something of her life, she jolly well couldn’t allow herself to be persuaded into a marriage with the first chinless wonder who made a pass at her, no matter how rich he was. Her father would understand. As she remembered her poor father, Milly could feel her tears coming again. ‘Oh, please be well. Please, God, make him better.’

Lena got up with the lark. Her first job was to make some flags; that done, she looked for a suitable stick in the shape of a ‘Y’ to use as a dowsing wand. After breakfast, she caught a bus into Worthing, changing at the Dome cinema for a bus to East Worthing. From there she walked over the railway bridge to the old nurseries. The two-acre area of wilderness which now belonged to her had already been fenced off. It was the rest of the plot she was interested in. Just as the first plot had been, it looked bleak, untidy and unkempt. With her flags stowed away in her backpack, Lena held the ends of the forked stick under her thumbs, allowing the rest of the stick to lie across her palms between her second and third fingers. She held it slightly off centre because if she found something manmade under the ground, such as a copper pipe, the stick was likely to jerk upwards and smack her in the face. If she found water, the stick would pull itself down towards the ground.

Holding the dowsing wand in a horizontal position, she began a slow walk from one side of the field to the other. She did three circuits before she had a reaction and then the dowsing wand suddenly, and quite violently, jerked down towards the earth. After marking the position with a flag, Lena carried on.

It took about two hours to cover the whole area and, when she looked back, the flags were in a diagonal line across the field. After pulling away some of the vegetation, she had found the reason why the ground was so waterlogged. A small stream fairly near the surface had been allowed to become clogged with debris and earth. It would be a simple matter to clean it out and perhaps dig a larger channel or, better still, pipe the water away.

Lena stood up and put her hand into the small of her aching back. She wished now that she had been able to secure the whole of the nurseries site. Earlier this year, she had decided to use the rest of her inheritance to buy another two acres, which would mean she owned an area roughly the size of four football pitches, and now that she knew why the ground round here was so wet, she could sort out the problem. She’d already cleared the first two acres and, if the rest was drained, that would mean it was an even better investment. As she tucked into a sandwich, Lena decided that if she left the flags in the ground, someone else might get the same idea. No, it was better to pull them up for now and have another word with Pa and see if he could help her secure the rest of the site. She could offer him a partnership. Having eaten her lunch, Lena packed up her things and set off for the bus stop. She felt rather excited. If she acquired more of the land, it would go a long way to making her independent. She didn’t need a husband, not yet. With some careful planning, she could become a woman of means, and then, in her own time, she could marry for love.

Milly’s mother and sister slept late. Milly hung around downstairs for an hour or so but, after a quick breakfast, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She thought about telephoning the hospital, but decided that as she was a minor, they probably wouldn’t tell her anything, so she decided to go in person. Dixon was cautious about taking her in case Mrs Shepherd wanted the car, so there was nothing for it but to catch the bus. Mrs Cunningham told her the Southdown bus from Horsham would be leaving from the village at ten. A glance up at the clock told Milly she would have to hurry but, if she caught it, she could be at the hospital before eleven.

Worthing hospital was in Lyndhurst Road, a three-storey building within a neatly manicured garden and lawn. Most of the wards were on the ground floor, with a few rooms on the upper floors surrounding the turret over the main entrance. Milly was unsure as to where her father was, but the woman on the reception desk was most helpful.

‘Visiting isn’t until two this afternoon,’ she explained, ‘but I’ll have a word with the ward sister.’ And, as it turned out, Milly was allowed to see her father immediately because of his critical condition.

He looked awful. His skin was grey and his breathing laboured. He was awake but not very responsive. He wore an oxygen mask and he was connected to a drip. ‘I’m afraid he’s quite poorly at the moment,’ said the sister.

Milly gave her a horrified look. ‘He’s not going to die, is he?’ she whispered.

The sister hesitated. ‘Not just yet,’ she said in a low, cautious voice, ‘but you must understand, he is very ill.’

Milly made a small sound.

‘Now, now, my dear,’ said the sister. ‘Pull yourself together. We don’t want to frighten your father, do we?’

Taking a deep breath, Milly managed a brave smile and walked towards her father’s bed. ‘Hello, Father,’ she said brightly as she pushed her glasses up her nose, ‘I was just passing and thought I’d pop in to see you.’

Milly’s first visit was short. Her father wasn’t up to talking, and the sister pointedly reminded her again that official visiting was from two until four and six until seven. She kissed Charles on his forehead, promising to come back in the afternoon, and left the ward in tears. She would have called her mother straight away, had the ward sister not mentioned that she had telephoned her just before Milly had arrived.

Milly glanced at her watch. It was almost noon. She had to let Lena know, although with her mother about, it would be tricky getting her half-sister to his bedside. Fifteen minutes later, Milly was on a bus heading for Findon.

She arrived at the fairground to find Lena and Rainbow George having a row. It appeared that Lena was late getting started on her stall, and Rainbow George didn’t like it. He was even more grumpy when he discovered that Milly was there to take Lena to the hospital.

‘We have to get the bus there straight away,’ Milly told her. ‘I don’t know how long he’ll last.’

Lena was immediately thrown into a blind panic.

Under the circumstances, Rainbow George wasn’t hard-hearted enough to refuse to let her go, especially as he liked Charles, but they could tell he wasn’t happy about the stall being left unmanned. Once again, Vera was called upon to take over the hoopla.