Francesca Read online

  Francesca

  GILLIAN Y. GODDEN

  AuthorHouse™ UK

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

  www.authorhouse.co.uk

  Phone: 0800.197.4150

  Copyright © 2019 Gillian Y. Godden. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Published by AuthorHouse 02/01/2019

  ISBN: 978-1-7283-8316-3 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-7283-8314-9 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-7283-8315-6 (e)

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

  and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  `

  To Avril,

  who encouraged me to follow my dreams

  My son Robert Godden,

  the wind beneath my wings

  Leanne and Kath,

  who tiredlessly helped proof read.

  To Authorhouse,

  for helping me every step of the way and encouraged me.

  And lastly, for all the people who are reading this book and enjoying it as much as I have enjoyed writing it

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 Remembering the Past

  Chapter 2 New Beginnings

  Chapter 3 The Beginning of the End

  Chapter 4 Lambrianu’s

  Chapter 5 Bad Times

  Chapter 6 Ladies’ Night

  Chapter 7 The Proposal

  Chapter 8 The House

  Chapter 9 The Future

  Chapter 10 The Wedding

  Chapter 11 Home for Christmas

  Chapter 12 New Year’s Eve

  Chapter 13 Julie’s Story

  Chapter 14 Decision Time

  Chapter 15 Decorating

  Chapter 16 Italy

  Chapter 17 Ireland

  Chapter 18 The Alibi

  Chapter 19 The Fallout

  Chapter 20 Destiny

  Chapter 21 George

  Chapter 22 Bobby’s Birthday

  Chapter 23 An Eye for an Eye

  Chapter 24 Confession Time

  Chapter 25 The Party

  Chapter 26 Decree Absolute

  Chapter 27 A Parcel for Tony

  Chapter 28 A Stranger in the Night

  Chapter 29 A Family Holiday

  Chapter 30 Trial and Error

  Chapter 31 Friends with Benefits

  Chapter 32 The Cold Light of Day

  Chapter 33 Diana

  Chapter 34 Home and Away

  Chapter 35 ScatKatz

  Chapter 36 The Final Hurdle

  About the Author

  1

  Remembering the Past

  Getting out of the black cab, I handed over the fare and put my coat over my arm. It was getting warmer than I had presumed it would earlier. Although the skies had looked dull this morning, it had surprised everyone when the sun had shone and the clouds had disappeared.

  Walking towards the huge building in front of me and reaching my hand up to the door handle, I was just about to pull it open when, through the glass pane in the centre of the door, I saw the man I loved standing at the bar. Standing on either side of him were two beautiful leggy young blonde women, each with her arm around his waist, laughing and joking without a care in the world.

  I instantly pulled my hand away from the handle, and although the sun was blocking my view slightly, I surveyed the happy scene before me. How I had once dreaded walking in on such a cosy scene like this, and how all my insecurities had risen at the thought of it.

  Looking at my watch, I noticed it was another half an hour before I was due to meet him. The journey into the West End of London hadn’t taken as long as I had thought. Deciding to leave them all to it I looked around and spotted a coffee shop with people sitting outside under umbrellas enjoying the sunshine and watching the crowds passing by.

  The West End of London was in all of its glory on a sunny day. Tourists were walking along the footpaths, while would-be artists drew chalk drawings of famous celebrities on the pavements, people watching in awe at their talent. Buskers with their guitars sang away, hoping for tips from the crowds of people passing by.

  Taking a seat at a table, I ordered a coffee from the smiling waitress who came out to meet me, notepad in hand waiting for my order. Pointless really—I only wanted a black coffee, not one of the fancy ones advertised on the windows of the café. I looked across at the huge building with its flags heralding the owner’s name and remembered the happy scene I had left behind me. The waitress put my coffee on the table before and asked if I wanted anything else.

  Shaking my head to indicate no, I lifted the cup to my lips to take a sip and thanked her and then put the cup down back on its saucer. My mind wandered off again. I had been thinking a lot about the past lately. I didn’t know why. But sometimes in quiet moments, things you haven’t thought about for years suddenly pop into your mind at the oddest moments, and you just wander off into the past to the person you once were. You know what I mean, don’t you?

  Staring at the hustle and bustle of the crowds before me reminded me of how I’d felt the first time I had come into the West End and seeing all the fantastic sights before me—the famous theatres advertising famous plays I had only ever heard about. I had felt excited. But I’d also been nervous because I was going for a job interview. At this moment, that all seemed like a lifetime ago. I was young and foolish; and worst of all, I was in love. Or I thought I was. What is love? It makes you blind, ignoring the harsh truths it brings with it. I, Francesca, was the biggest fool of all.

  I had been broken and penniless when my husband Luke had eventually left me for my best friend and supervisor Emma. She was everything I wasn’t—beautiful, clever, and a homeowner with plenty of money in the bank since her husband had died.

  Frowning to myself, I picked up my cup again and took another sip of the hot coffee, warming my throat. Remembering that time still made me feel sick inside. How stupid and naive I had been. No—sighing to myself and rethinking the situation—how gullible and desperately lonely I had been.

  I had been flattered when Luke had sought me out at an office party. It was one of those team-building exercises. He had asked me to dance. He was tall, handsome, and in charge of the security at the office where I was doing my secretarial work experience.

  All the ladies smiled, a little jealous at my achievement, so I thought. I was surprised he had even noticed me. He was the original London cockney man, and I was eighteen, on work experience, and as naive as they came. People should have a work experience course on life, shouldn’t they? There I was, living in the big city until I finished my course, which had been arranged through my college in Yorkshire, where I was from.

  We had dated for a while when Luke asked me to move in with him. Of course, I instantly agreed—not only to be with him but also to get out of the women’s hostel I was staying at. I suppose we both used each other in a way.

  He had a typical bachelor flat, which needed a lot of attention. But we could decorate it together and make it ours. After all, we were in love. That meant you could do anything, as long as it was together.

  He was always borrowing money from me, even though he was the one with the real job. I couldn’t understand why he needed to borrow. He was always coming home late, saying he’d had to work overtime, and I’d believed him.

  Looking back, I realised how stupid I had been. Gossip had spread through the office, and there was talk that Luke was cheating on me regularly and basically couldn’t keep his trousers on. But I didn’t believe it. When I told Luke what people were saying, he would just laugh it off and tell me he loved me, and they were jealous. Why had he carried on living with me? Why when people told me out of ‘friendship’ about his cheating and I had confronted him one evening had he asked me to marry him?

  None of it made much sense. Considering the amount of money he was always borrowing from me, perhaps he thought he would marry me rather than have to pay me back. He was always skint, I supposed because he was paying the rent and most of the bills. I had taken a weekend cleaning job to try and make us some extra money, but it didn’t seem to make much difference.

  The wedding was cheap and cheerful at the local registry office. We had a few drinks at the local pub around the corner afterwards—again because we couldn’t afford anything else. I had felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I’d also felt that, now, the gossips would shut up. I had proved them all wrong. He had married me. The truth was he had just blurted it out one drunken night when yet again I was moaning about the gossip and the fact that we were both working and still never had any money. He had said it to shut me up and probably regretted it instantly. But he’d followed it through anyway.

  Wincing to myself now at my stupidity, I felt sorry for that young woman I had once been—alone in the big city, miles away from home and family and no one to talk to. I didn’t tell my mam about all the arguments Luke and I were having. I knew she would worry and I hadn’t wanted that. She had enough to deal with looking after my three younger brothers on
her own since dad had died.

  I knew for a fact that she would have insisted I go home, back where I belonged. I felt I couldn’t do that. I wanted to make something of myself. Maybe in the big city I would be given the opportunity to do that. Maybe I’d even make some extra money to send home to Mum to help her out. This, of course, never happened because there never seemed to be enough for ourselves, let alone extra.

  I couldn’t go back a failure. Mum had been so proud when I was offered this opportunity to better myself. That was why I hung on to my marriage, lived hand to mouth even though I was working every hour possible, and even put up with my newlywed husband lashing out and using me as a punchbag. Of course he was always sorry, and even though I made excuses up at work about my bruises, I knew they knew.

  Then the worst had happened. I’d discovered I was pregnant. Luke had hit the roof when I’d told him. I had never seen him so angry. I could see him now. His face was flushed, and the angry words just spewed out of his mouth. ‘You will just have to get rid of it, you stupid cow. How on earth could you let something like this happen?’ I had actually found myself apologising, as though it was all my fault! You do, though, in those kinds of marriages. You’re brain washed into believing you’re always in the wrong and you actually believe it yourself.

  I never mentioned my pregnancy again. I wouldn’t ‘get rid of it’, and Luke never acknowledged the fact or spoke of it again. He was happy as long as I was working and as long as I continued for as long as I could. He had seen it as my problem. The last thing I’d wanted was for him to lash out at me and the inevitable happen, so I had kept a low profile. God knows what I was going to do when I had to give up work for a while, but I’d cross that bridge when I had to.

  As time went on, I saw less and less of him, which in some ways I was glad of. There had been lots of talk about Luke cheating on me. But there was a particular woman that everyone around the office talked about more than most. The silence, which was accompanied by knowing looks when I walked into the office canteen was deafening.

  I had tried putting a little money aside, some days going without food or heating. I knew, though, that, come the end of the week when I was at work, Luke would always return and take the lion’s share out of the money pot and then disappear again. I hadn’t dared hide it all. That would have been asking for trouble.

  When I had gone into labour and the pains were coming thick and fast, I had tried contacting him at work, to no avail. So I rang my supervisor Emma. She had always been so kind to me in the past. I had rung her at home, knowing this was her day off. To my utter surprise, it had been Luke who had answered the telephone. The shock in his voice when he realised it was me was nearly as bad as the shock I had in hearing Luke. Emma!

  So there it was—my friendly, understanding supervisor and my husband. I just hung up the telephone. There was no point saying anything now. I had other things to do. I rang a taxi to take me to the hospital.

  A few hours later, I gave birth to my son Bobby. At least something good had come out of my marriage. When I had gone home a few days later, the house was empty. The television was missing, and so were other household items. Still holding Bobby in my arms, I walked the full length of the flat towards the bedroom. My heart was in my mouth and I could feel the panic rising inside of me.

  The wardrobe was empty, and all of Luke’s belongings had gone. He’d even taken some of mine, which he would probably sell. The money pot was also empty. He had left me, and he had left me and my baby with nothing. Tears just rolled down my face. That was it then, the end of my marriage—not even a goodbye.

  There was a knock at my door. When I opened it, I saw the elderly lady who lived next door.

  ‘He’s gone, love. Came with a van and took everything. He said you were moving, and he was making a start. I knew he was lying.’ She had given me one of those pitiful looks I had come to know so well.

  She had handed me over a supermarket bag full of foodstuff she had bought. Then she’d given me another plastic back. I was slightly perplexed at this one, as it was full of unopened envelopes.

  ‘He asked me to give you this when you got home. That’s how I knew he was lying. Why wouldn’t he give it to you himself?’

  She looked at the small bundle fast asleep in my arms and moved the blanket aside to see, ‘Boy or girl?’ she asked.

  ‘Bobby, a boy. Thank you for the groceries. I’ll just find my purse.’

  She just smiled at me. We both knew I had nothing much in my purse. I was embarrassed by all of this, and she knew it.

  ‘Never mind, love. You just sort yourself and little Bobby out. If you need anything, I’m next door.’ With that, she had turned and walked away.

  Looking inside the shopping bag, I saw that she’d bought some bread, milk, and even a tin of formula for Bobby. It seemed she had been prepared for me coming home to face all of this. There were some decent people left in the world, weren’t there?

  Slowly, I looked into the other bag. It was full of envelopes. I laid Bobby down on the sofa and took one of the envelopes out. They were all final demands for money.

  The rent hadn’t been paid in months. Loans had been taken out in my name. And the gas had been cut off. What a homecoming. It wasn’t the usual happy scene you see on the television when women go home with their new babies.

  I had to feed Bobby, who was now awake and crying. I too was crying with utter despair. What was I going to do?

  Without knowing why, only that I was feeling at such a loss, I went next door and knocked apprehensively on the door. I had seen my neighbour many times before, though we had never spoken.

  I had been embarrassed she would have heard the arguments through the walls and seen the bruises that were the outcome of those arguments.

  Christine, I found out was her name, opened the door as though half expecting me. She invited me and Bobby in and offered us a warm welcome and a hot cup of tea. I showed her the bag full of final demands. Slowly but surely, we drank our tea and opened them all—each one pouring out demands for money. Luke hadn’t paid the rent for months. There was also an eviction notice.

  Christine took charge of everything, spreading out all of the letters on her floor and sorting out the more serious ones first. That meant the ones that involved keeping a roof over our heads. She contacted the landlord and explained the situation. Maybe, just maybe he would have a heart and let me pay off the arrears bit by bit.

  She picked up her telephone. One by one, she rang the letter senders. The landlord, after a long drawn out argument and given the fact that I had just had a baby, agreed to give me another chance—that is, if I applied for benefits. If I was on benefits the local council would pay the rent, and I would be responsible for any outstanding arrears, which he agreed to let me pay off in instalments. Breathing space. Next was the gas and electric. Both utilities also agreed to help—budget payment meters would be installed, so that I paid for what I used and a little extra towards what was owed for arrears.

  What a mess I had been in. I still felt weak and tired, and little Bobby needed feeding again. I was exhausted, but we soldiered on. Christine’s telephone bill must have been enormous after all this. We contacted a few of the loan companies and credit card companies. They weren’t as understanding. Even telling them that Luke had gone didn’t help, as most of the cards and loans were in my name.

  We made more tea, which Christine needed more than I did, considering all the talking she had done. I was eternally grateful for her help. This stranger who I had known for a few hours had basically helped me sort my life out. There was a God after all. All I had to do now was keep my word and try and pay these companies the money I owed them.

  As suggested by the landlord I applied for benefits. In due course, the rent would be paid. I would even get some money for Bobby and myself to live off.

  Days passed into weeks. I had electricity, gas, and food in the cupboard. Strangely enough, thinking back now, I realise I had more when Luke had left me than I’d ever had when I lived with him. More than ever, I had peace of mind, and you can’t buy that can you.