Freddie slid the wooden slide on the outside of the door until the German word ‘Privat’ appeared, then he entered the room and closed the door.

Charles was buried just over a week later, his funeral being held in the church of St John the Baptist in Findon. In days gone by, parish churches had been central to the community, but first the Black Death and then the new bypass meant that the church, which stood on a wooded slope, was now some distance from the village of Findon. However, people came from far and wide to mourn Charles and the service was well attended.

Agatha, Pearl and Milly arrived together in the same car just behind the hearse. All three women were dressed entirely in black. Agatha wore a satin dress with a scoop neckline. The bodice had black lace up to the throat, and she wore it under a coat with a heavily black-beaded front. She also had a large hat which was covered by a thick black veil. Pearl wore a dress with a square neckline. There were embroidered angel wings on the left shoulder and down the right side of the skirt, which had a chiffon handkerchief hem. Her hat was covered in the same kind of floating veil her mother wore. Milly had chosen a much simpler ensemble. Her undecorated black dress had been cut on the bias, which was very flattering to her figure. The dress had short sleeves and a cowl neckline with a belt and art deco buckle at the waist. To complete her outfit, she wore long black gloves and a plain cloche hat, and carried a small clasp bag. An usher showed them to their seats at the front of the church.

The coffin was lifted shoulder high by the pallbearers and the vicar asked everyone to stand. A moment later they could hear him reading from a prayer book.

‘I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live, And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.’

The assembled congregation was silent. Milly wondered if Lena was here and where she might be sitting. She tried to look around, but Agatha nudged her in the ribs.

The service lasted about thirty minutes, and then the pallbearers came back to take Charles to the burial ground. It was raining outside. Someone gave Milly an umbrella and then she saw Lena. While her mother and Pearl followed the coffin, Milly hurried over to fetch her half-sister. ‘You should be with us,’ she whispered.

Lena shook her head. ‘Your mother will go mad.’

But Milly wouldn’t be dissuaded. Linking her arm through Lena’s, she guided her towards the graveside. Agatha gave them a dark frown from behind her veil as the vicar began the age-old words:

‘For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life . . .’ Milly gripped Lena’s hand tightly as the pallbearers lowered the body of their much-loved father into the earth.

Agatha stepped forward and threw a handful of dirt onto the coffin. Pearl did the same but, when it came to Milly’s turn, she still had hold of Lena’s hand. Agatha stepped between Milly and the grave and, taking her arm, pulled her firmly away from Lena.

Back at the car, Pearl was told in no uncertain tones to sit in the front with Dixon. ‘I shall sit in the back with Millicent,’ said Agatha.

As they moved off, her mother closed the glass partition and pulled off her veil. Judging by the thunderous look on her face, she was furious. When she spoke, her spitting voice was full of venom. ‘What the bloody hell did you think you were doing, you idiot girl?’ she hissed. ‘Who was that person?’

‘Her name is Lena,’ Milly said, the firmness of her voice belying the terror she felt right now. ‘And she had every right to be with us. Lena is his daughter.’

‘His daughter?’ Agatha spat. Her eyes flashed. ‘His daughter!’

‘Angel was her mother,’ said Milly, her legs turning to jelly.

‘You held hands at his funeral with his bastard daughter?’ Agatha choked. ‘How could you? How could you?’

Milly knew she was waiting for an apology, waiting for her to grovel, but she was done with that now. Lena should have been allowed to sit at the front with the rest of the family. What did it matter which side of the blanket she’d been born? Her grief was more genuine than Pearl and Agatha’s.

‘How long have you known about her?’ Agatha snapped. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

Milly didn’t answer.

‘She looks about the same age as you,’ Agatha went on. ‘Charles had a bastard child? I can’t believe it!’ There was a pause, then she added, ‘Who else knows about this? Say something, you stupid girl; who else knows?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Milly.

Agatha huffed and crossed her legs. ‘Really, Milly. You are impossible.’

The two of them didn’t speak for the rest of the journey. When they arrived at the house, Agatha swept in first. The hired maids were standing by the entrance with trays of wine for the mourners who had been invited to the wake.

Agatha slipped off her coat and Elsie took it from her. A large man with an equally large brown tobacco-stained moustache sidled up to her.

‘Aggie darling,’ he said huskily as he kissed her cheek. Milly was deeply shocked to see him slip his hand around her mother’s waist and down to her bottom. ‘This must be absolute hell for you,’ he said, giving her buttock a gentle squeeze.

Agatha stepped away from his inappropriate caress and smiled. ‘Bunny, dear, why don’t you get yourself a little drinky-poo and I’ll be with you in a minute.’

While ‘Bunny’ headed for the drinks cabinet, Agatha motioned to her older daughter. ‘Pearl, would you mind seeing to our guests for a moment?’ she said sweetly. ‘Milly dear, please come with me into the morning room for a minute.’

Milly followed. Agatha closed the door then reached back her hand and slapped her daughter across the face with such force that Milly slipped and fell against the arm of the chair. Getting back up, Milly stared at her mother in disbelief as she held her hand over her stinging cheek.

‘As soon as this is over,’ Agatha snarled through gritted teeth, ‘you can pack your bags and get out of this house and never come back.’

With that, she sailed out of the room.

Chapter 17

It took Milly a while to recover from what her mother had done. As soon as it was practical, she had hurried upstairs and away from the guests coming into the house. Shutting herself into the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. Her face was a mess. Her cheek was swollen and she had a large bruise appearing under her eye. She guessed her mother’s ring had caught her cheekbone as she struck out. As she held a welcome cold flannel against the wound, the skin was painfully sore.

She didn’t cry until she was in her bedroom. She had pulled her suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and set about packing. The case was almost full when her mind cleared and she began to realise the extent of her loss. Her beloved father had gone, and now she was being turfed out of her only home. Where would she go? There was no time to write a letter to Aunt Betsy in West Moors, and she had nowhere else to go. She’d have to find somewhere for the night, maybe the next two nights, and by that time she might be able to work something out. She had a little money put aside, but there was no way she could support herself for any real length of time. Much as she hated being with her mother, she hadn’t realised until this moment just how lucky she had been to grow up in the safety of Muntham Court. She wished Lena was here and wondered briefly if Rainbow George would let her join the travellers. But what did she have to offer him? And where would she sleep? When the tears finally came, Milly sat on the edge of her bed and lowered her head.

Sometime later, a sharp knock at the door made her jump. Quickly wiping her eyes and putting her glasses back on, she looked up and said, ‘Come in.’

It was Elsie. ‘The mistress says to come into the morning room, miss,’ she began. ‘The solicitor is here to read the will.’ All at once Elsie gasped. ‘Oh miss, what happened to your face?’

‘I fell over a chair,’ Milly lied as she blew her nose.

The maid was shocked. ‘Can I do anything for you?’

‘No, no,’ said Milly. ‘I’ll be fine.’ She managed a brave smile. ‘But tell my mother I’m not coming.’

‘The solicitor says they can’t start without you.’

Milly knew better than to argue. ‘Very well. I’ll be down in a minute.’

When Elsie had gone, Milly powdered her face, although it didn’t seem to make much difference to her bright red cheek. Putting on a pair of sunglasses, she made her way downstairs.

The guests had gone but the door to the morning room was open and she could hear her mother’s strident voice. ‘What is that creature doing here? This is for family only.’

As Milly walked through the door, Lena was standing next to Mr May, of May, May and Prior, her father’s solicitors. She hurried to Lena’s side and grasped her hand encouragingly.

‘Miss Buckley has every right to be here, Mrs Shepherd,’ Mr May was saying quietly. ‘She is mentioned in your husband’s will.’

Agatha harrumphed and sat down.

Milly and Lena sat side by side. ‘I’ve got something to tell you after all this,’ Lena whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Milly chewed anxiously on her bottom lip. ‘And I you.’

Mr May took a last look around the room before opening an envelope marked ‘Last Will and Testament’.

‘In the name of God,’ he read from the title page, ‘I, Charles Walter Peregrine Shepherd of the parish of Findon, investment banker, do hereby solemnly declare that I am of sound mind and perfect memory . . .’