Peace In My Heart

Born in Lancashire, FREDA LIGHTFOOT has been a teacher and a bookseller, and in a mad moment even tried her hand at the ‘good life’. A prolific and much-loved saga writer, Freda’s work is inspired by memories of her Lancashire childhood and her passion for history. For more information about Freda, visit her website: www.fredalightfoot.co.uk

Also by Freda Lightfoot

Historical Sagas

Lakeland Lily

The Bobbin Girls

The Favourite Child

Kitty Little

For All Our Tomorrows

Home is Where the Heart Is

Gracie’s Sin

Daisy’s Secret

Ruby McBride

Dancing on Deansgate

Watch for the Talleyman

Polly’s Pride

Polly’s War

House of Angels

Angels at War

The Promise

My Lady Deceiver

Always in My Heart

The Luckpenny Series

Luckpenny Land

Wishing Water

Larkrigg Fell

Poorhouse Lane Series

The Girl from Poorhouse Lane

The Woman from Heartbreak

House

Champion Street Market Series

Putting on the Style

Fools Fall in Love

That’ll Be the Day

Candy Kisses

Who’s Sorry Now

Lonely Teardrops

Women’s Contemporary Fiction

Trapped

Historical Romances

Madeiran Legacy

Whispering Shadows

Rhapsody Creek

Proud Alliance

Outrageous Fortune

Biographical Historical

Hostage Queen

Reluctant Queen

The Queen and the Courtesan

The Duchess of Drury Lane

Lady of Passion

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Also by Freda Lightfoot

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

May 1945

The celebrations for the end of the war had gone wild, the streets on VE Day packed with jubilant revellers all singing, dancing and laughing, much to Joanne’s delight. There were rosettes, flags and bunting all around; lights on everywhere and a band playing. Her gaze shifted to the lilting waves as they lapped below the North Pier. She felt quite familiar with all the moods of the sea from gentle and benign, as it was today, to fiercely destructive when towering waves would fly over the promenade and small boats could be battered. Having adopted HMS Penelope, a ship the locals supported, they were devastated when it was tragically hit by a torpedo near Italy in 1944 and sank, killing 400 men. There had been a dreadful plane crash on Central Station and an air disaster in nearby Freckleton when a B-24 Liberator had crashed into the village school and houses killing over fifty people and dozens of children. The many airports had endured some problems throughout the war but the town had still welcomed holidaymakers in need of a little fun, and had generously provided accommodation to thousands of evacuees, including herself and her younger sister. Fortunately, Blackpool had suffered fewer disasters than many other places, certainly much less than Joanne’s hometown of Manchester. Life seemed to be rather like the sea, one moment calm and benevolent, the next cruel and harsh because of the horrors of war. But they’d found it a great place to live.

Thankfully the war was at last over, so hopefully things would improve. Looking out across the calm blue Irish Sea, the sandy beach was smooth and golden, stretching for some distance. Joanne had brought some sandwiches and cakes to contribute to the party they would all enjoy later. She’d even seen someone bring along a stack of odd-looking yellow pieces of fruit, which were apparently bananas, not something she’d ever tasted, and she greatly looked forward to savouring them.

‘God save the King,’ somebody called out. Cheers of joy met this cry, turning it into the national song.

Joanne glanced at her watch. Half past three. Her afternoon break would generally be almost over at this point. Lunchtime at the boarding house where they lived, the two landladies having cared for them this last three years, had been busy as usual with many wives having come to visit their RAF husbands. Joanne always looked forward to an hour or two of freedom in the middle of the afternoon when she could refresh herself in the sea air and sunshine. Those two dear sisters, Aunt Annie and Aunt Sadie, readily encouraged her to take a break, and today being one of celebration, there was no demand for her to rush back to work. No doubt they too were around somewhere enjoying this celebration. From where she stood on the promenade close to the Tower and the North Pier, Joanne watched her sister Megan happily dancing with Bernie, their landladies’ nephew. He’d first asked Joanne but she’d politely declined, anxious to sit and wait for Teddy to come, knowing in her heart that she could love no man but this GI.

Oh, but why hadn’t he arrived when he’d promised that he would, knowing she so enjoyed dancing with him? He was a most dapper and exciting GI, billeted in Garstang. Joanne did once visit him there to attend a dance at the village hall. She’d been shown around the camp, tripping along duckboards in her heeled shoes to view the Nissen huts, cookhouse and officers’ mess. It was a bit of a dump, packed with gallon drums, jeeps, fuel; wet clothing hanging on hedges or trees to dry that didn’t look at all proper. He’d taken her to see the tent where he and his mates were accommodated and had given her a cuddle and a kiss. She took care that he did no more than that, not wishing to be taken advantage of. Many girls were happy to lose their virginity with a man who could be killed in the war, something they felt they should not object to. Joanne was far more cautious being only seventeen, very young and innocent.

Oh, but how she loved him. These GIs were most attractive men and happy to come into Blackpool to visit one of the many pubs on the promenade, or enjoy the dancing at the Tower Ballroom, sometimes dressed as a civvie instead of in their uniform.

After the dance she and Teddy would often take a drink in a pub and she would sit on his lap for him to kiss and caress her, sending her senses skittering at the thrill of his touch. More often than not there were other girls hovering close by. Joanne paid them no heed, accustomed to the fact that these guys were never short of admirers, being popular men. And she was perfectly certain that Teddy viewed her as his favourite girl. Hadn’t he told her so a million times?

So why wasn’t he here on this special day? There was so much she felt the need to say to him now the war was over. Joanne gave a sigh and stood up, brushing away the sand that had blown onto her skirt.

When a hand lightly touched her shoulder she felt a frisson of recognition. He’d arrived at last. Instantly filled with pleasure and excitement, Joanne quickly turned to give him a hug, eager to welcome him while inside she felt in complete turmoil. Did she dare to tell this man how much she dreamed of a happy future together? ‘Oh, Teddy, it’s so wonderful to see you. This day of celebration is such a thrill. I’ve missed seeing you this last couple of weeks,’ she softly told him.

He gave her a wink. ‘I’ve missed you too, honey. All my mates are revelling in VE Day, so why wouldn’t I do that too?’ he blithely responded. ‘It’s a great cause for us guys who’ve worked hard for you Brits during the war.’

‘Thankfully you’ve been spared the trauma that many have suffered. I’m so thrilled you are still fit and willing to join us.’ Joanne felt utterly breathless. His face was mere inches from her own, so irresistibly close that her heart pummelled with anticipation. His sculpted mouth curled into an entrancing smile and she ached to taste it and stroke his soft cheeks. This handsome GI was so intoxicating, such a wonderful and fun man and no doubt a hero as many American troopers were.

As he stroked away a curl of her fair hair, his blue eyes gleaming with admiration, Joanne twinkled her gaze provocatively up at him, desperately hoping the sight of her in this new blue dress that hugged her figure in a most becoming way would captivate him. She’d clipped some of her blonde hair up on top of her head into rolled bangs and the rest fell neatly over her shoulder. She’d also patted her pale face with a little powder and wore a bright red lipstick, eager to look as attractive as possible.

As if recognizing this emotion in her he gave a wicked smile and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You’re such a pretty girl, honey.’ Then licking the soft curve of her upper lip, he slid his hand over her cheek and neck.

Blushing with delight at this compliment, Joanne found her breathing quicken under the thrill of his caresses. Seconds later she was held in his arms where she’d most longed to be during all these endless days of waiting to see him again. How fortunate she was to receive the attention he was giving her. His hands rested possessively around her back, his cheek lay against hers and he was pressing her hard against his tall, strong body to give her a passionate kiss. Her heart raced and she felt slightly giddy at the quiver of his tongue as it probed her mouth, the enticing warmth of him running through her like fire. Oh, how she adored him.

It was then that she became aware of a young woman standing close by. Doe-eyed and attractive, she was clinging fast to his arm. Shrugging her casually off, he whispered in Joanne’s ear, ‘Not too impressed with this festivity. Don’t we usually slip away somewhere quiet on our own, which is far more entertaining, huh? Let’s take a walk along the beach, honey.’

Joanne had always loved the time they’d spent walking barefoot on the beach together, holding hands and enjoying the comforting sounds of the sea. He would talk about his dreams for a new career once the war was over and she would happily listen, hoping to be a part of his plan. He’d also succeeded on numerous occasions to persuade her to join him in some quiet Nissen hut near Squire’s Gate airport, or in his jeep, where they would hug and kiss. She felt completely smitten by his attention to her.

Today the promenade was packed with hundreds of folk having fun, plus horse-drawn carriages and GI jeeps scuttling around. Glancing across at her sister, who was now dancing with a young boy, she hesitated. Megan was still quite young, about to turn eleven come September. Being only five at the start of the war she had at first badly missed their mother and suffered much in the way of trauma. Mam had used to write to them quite regularly, but then there came a time that whenever she or Megan wrote to her they failed to receive a reply. They’d entirely lost contact with their mother, perhaps because she’d moved or was dead. Megan being something of a shy, awkward girl, greatly in need of care, was convinced their mother had lost interest in them. How could they know? Not certain they would ever find her again, Joanne thought of herself as a surrogate mother, so felt entirely responsible for looking after her sister.

Bearing all this in mind she should maybe stay close to her right now, but the loud sound of music playing was destroying all hope of her speaking to Teddy, which Joanne felt desperate to do. Walking along the beach would be much more private. Noting his admiring gaze fixed upon her, Joanne found the prospect of spending time alone with him far too irresistible to refuse. Giving him a nod, she said, ‘I am looking forward to dancing with you but we could take a short walk first, although not too far.’

‘’Course not, honey.’

Giving the other young woman’s furious expression a charming smile of apology, Joanne linked her arm with his and let him lead her away from the promenade down the steps to the beach. Would she now have the opportunity to ask the question she longed for an answer to? How to go about that was not easy to decide.

They walked for some distance along the beach close to the sea, feeling the coolness of tiny waves splashing against their feet, causing them to jump and giggle. Once they reached the quiet area below the North Pier, he leaned his back against a pillar and pulled her tightly into his arms. Joanne eagerly welcomed more of his passionate kisses, giving a little sigh of pleasure as he slid his hands over her breasts and stomach. When he pushed her down onto the sand, tugged up her skirt to caress her thighs and pressed hard against her private parts, she squealed. Whether that was his hand or another part of him pressing into her she felt too naive to understand. A sense of panic overwhelmed her and, pushing him away, she gave him a frown, lightened with a small, fetching smile.

‘Don’t be naughty, Teddy, we aren’t married. Although were you to ask me to go home with you to America to become your darling wife I might well say yes, having spent so many happy months with you and absolutely adoring you.’

Leaning back, he gave her a rueful smile. ‘Oh my, how irresistible you are, sweet, shy and prudish little Joanne. I adore you too. Wish that could be possible.’

‘Why would it not be?’ It surprised her that he was accusing her of being prudish, considering what she’d just allowed him to do. Had she said the wrong thing by having finally admitted what she dreamed of and how much she loved him?

‘We guys have to go through quite a long process to receive the necessary permission for that,’ he said, giving a sparkling smile before he kissed her again, proving how the glory of his desire had lit a certainty within her that he was in love with her.

‘Oh, I see. I should make it clear that when you manage to arrange our future together my young sister must also accompany me to America and remain a part of my life. You need to understand how very much she depends upon me. I’m sure you will accept that as you have no wish to lose me,’ she coyly remarked, giving him an enchanting smile. ‘Will you write and let me know when you wish us to join you?’

‘Hey, sure thing, honey. I’ll give that some attention once I get back home, find a job and sort my life out.’

Excitedly waiting for more details of where he lived and when he was leaving, she was startled when a tribe of his pals suddenly appeared by his side and they started to punch and laugh at each other. The expression in his blue eyes now looked much more obsessed with these other Yanks than with her. He lifted her up in his arms, gave her a warm hug and one more kiss, smoothing his lips over hers, his tongue again dipping into her mouth. Then he whispered in her ear, ‘Sorry, can’t hang around any longer. We gotta go now!’

What he seemed to be saying did not fully register in the fuzz of emotion that clouded her brain. ‘Oh, no, please don’t go back to the camp yet. I want you to stay and dance with me on this day of celebration.’

After giving a burst of laughter, he said, ‘I’m aware of your fondness for dancing, honey. It’s been great to spend time with you. Have fun and enjoy life, now this blasted war is over.’ He released her and flung his arms around his mates. Joanne felt a cold wind blow over her as she watched them race away then up the steps to the promenade, jump into a jeep and, giving her a wave, they drove away. It came to her in that terrifying moment that these GIs were not simply returning to the camp in Garstang or Warton Military Site where some of them were stationed, but heading back to the United States of America. And she had no notion of where Teddy lived in that far away country, since he’d been interrupted by his mates before getting round to giving her such detail.

Oh, what anguish Joanne felt at losing him. She could but hope he would write to her, knowing she lived with those dear landladies in Jubilee House, once he’d sorted his life out as promised. Or might he forget all about her? What a dreadful prospect. And having lost contact with her mother, as well as their dear brother Danny, uncertain whether either of them was alive or dead, Joanne worried that she might never find any love in her life ever again.

Chapter Two

Evie, her niece Cathie and friend Brenda had together enjoyed the VE celebration for the end of the war. Many local merchant seamen had delivered food for the party, including non-rationed pork, which they’d happily roasted for everyone. What a treat that had been. Now the three of them were sitting in Campfield Market, each savouring a delicious custard tart. The outside market was bustling with people as always, today all chatting and laughing, singing and joking. Here, in the inside market at their favourite café, it was quiet and more relaxed, happily surrounded by smiling faces. Evie watched as a pretty young girl tried on a red felt wide-brimmed hat at Higginson’s millinery stall, turning her head this way and that to admire herself in the mirror, perhaps her way of celebrating.

An ache punctuated her heart as Evie recalled how she’d seen very little of her son and even less of her daughters, Joanne and Megan, since they’d been evacuated. They had spent a brief spell at home back in 1940, when it had initially appeared to be a phoney war, but once the bombing started they were again evacuated.

At first they’d remained easily in touch and she’d gone to help her girls when concerned about the way they were being treated by one family they’d been billeted with. A short time later she’d received no further letters from them to say where they were living, probably because they’d been moved around quite a bit. Evie had too, sadly losing their first home and had rented many other single rooms since. During the Christmas Blitz when one of the grain elevators had been bombed, buildings had collapsed and burned for days afterwards. Many mills and warehouses, including the one she’d worked for, had also suffered fires. How tragic that had been. It had turned into a nasty war, not least to lose touch with her daughters. She’d had to endure severe rationing, hard work at a different mill and the anguish of not knowing whether her missing husband was dead or alive. At times Evie’s strong resilience had faded because of this heart-rending pain and exhaustion. Even now she felt a slur of anguish within her as she longed to have her family back. Would they too be enjoying this celebration?

‘I’m aware this bloody war is still going on in the East, but I live in hope my son and daughters will all be home soon,’ she stoutly announced. ‘They’ve been gone over five years and I’ve missed them so much.’

‘Haven’t you seen them at all?’ Cathie asked, looking stunned.

‘My son Danny is in Cumberland where he’s lived throughout the war. I’ve written to him regularly and did once pay a visit. It took twenty-four hours or more to get so far north with the train constantly halting. And the cost of the journey was considerable, not to mention finding local accommodation. Not an experience I could afford to repeat. He was then moved out to a camp for some reason or other.’

‘Oh, poor you. I’ve every sympathy with that, Aunty. And didn’t you once tell me that you have to pay six shillings a week for their care?’

‘Indeed I do, whenever I can afford to, although thankfully the Government has helped with that cost. Frustratingly, I’ve not received details for some years of exactly where my daughters are. I’ve spoken to our local billeting officer to ask him to investigate where they might have been moved to, presumably somewhere in Cumberland or Westmorland. He’s agreed to look into that for me by contacting the volunteers who do this job in rural areas without pay,’ she said, showing a slight tension in her smile of approval.

Reaching forward, her niece gave her hand a little squeeze. ‘I’m sure they’ll be located and soon be back in your care. Little Heather here is safe too, although as you know we’ve recently lost her mum, my beloved sister,’ she said, tears suddenly flooding her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

Evie gave a sad smile. ‘I know, dearie. Such a tragedy that Sally should be killed in a road accident having survived this dratted war. Thanks to you this baby is indeed safe and well loved. And, as you know, I’m happy to help child-mind whenever necessary. Oh, it is a bit nerve-wracking when I think the last view of my children was when they too were still young. Now they are so much older I worry about how they’ll react once they do come home. Will I even recognize them?’

Cathie’s friend Brenda gave a little nod. ‘I can understand your concern, Evie. When I was working in France with the Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants, known as the OSE, many children who had lost touch with their parents developed problems and some had no wish to return home. They might have grown very fond of the family they’d been living with throughout the war, some suffered the loss of memory of their real parents, or their father could be dead and they’d no idea where their mother might be.’ Brenda fell silent, making no mention of what she had suffered in France.

‘Are you saying mine could accuse me of abandoning them?’ Evie asked, filled with a burst of anxiety.

Brenda firmly shook her head. ‘I’m sure yours were much safer than was the case in occupied France. Some suffered a heart-rending and difficult time there. Not at all easy for them. I’m sure your son and daughters will be eager to come home and see you, their beloved mother.’

‘I do hope you’re right.’

‘Why would they not be when you’re such a loving, caring person?’ Cathie said. ‘Your family has been much more fortunate than mine, despite the war. I wish you’d been my mum, instead of my own selfish mother who is always more interested in her string of lovers. Not to mention my absentee father, your brother, whom I haven’t seen in years as he’s apparently living somewhere abroad. But have you heard any news about dear Uncle Donald, your darling husband? Could he be safe and well?’

A crease marred Evie’s brow as she recalled the years of silence she’d endured after he’d been declared missing, constantly worrying over whether he would ever be found or presumed dead. Eventually she was informed that he’d been captured and was being held as a prisoner of war. Now she unfolded a letter and handed it over to her niece with a warm smile. ‘I’ve recently had word that as an ex-PoW he’s now in rehabilitation being cared for by the Civil Settlement Service. They are checking his health and helping him to recover. He’s apparently a bit thin and worn out, but alive and will hopefully be home soon. How wonderful that will be. I can’t wait to see him,’ she said, her face a picture of joy. ‘My dream is to have all my family together again. I do hope you’re right, Brenda, and my son and daughters will be eager to come back home. I will pay attention to any possible problems they might have. Having no idea where they are, I shall go and speak to the billeting officer again, to see if he’s found them.’

‘I’m goin’ to fall, sir. One more move and this mountain and I will part company,’ Danny yelled. He was attempting to climb a mountain and a piece of rock had broken off somewhere below his right foot. He could feel his legs weakening, control oozing out of them.

‘You’re doing fine, Danny. Pull back. Your stomach is too close to the rock face. Look for a hold. You’re fourteen, not four. As you are so fond of telling us.’

‘If I lean back I’ll be into a skydive without a parachute.’ Panic swelled and bubbled in his stomach. ‘I daren’t move me eyes let alone me ’ead.’

A chuckle came from below. ‘There’s a jug handle up there. Get your hand round that and you’ll feel safe and secure again.’ This advice came from the camp leader who was supposedly a gifted mountain instructor if dismissive of this climb, treating it as a small practice.

Danny, however, had a very different view. He could hardly believe this death-defying feat he was involved with, probably his last movement in this world. How could a mountain have a jug handle? He did know, of course, that this name was simply a label for a particular type of hold. But he’d give anything right now to be safely back in his tent enjoying a glass of milk, his mouth having gone dry with fear. In all the time he’d spent at this camp he’d made no attempt to learn how to climb. But he’d been bullied into taking part in this event. Now he clung on, shivering, knowing that if he was to stand any chance of being chosen as a team leader on the next walking expedition he had to make an extra-special effort. His fingers stretched out and curled around the jug handle, which did feel better, and he let out a sigh of relief.

‘Now put your right foot where your left hand is and make ready to swing round and go backwards up the chimney.’

These instructions would have set him laughing if he hadn’t been too nervous of the results of such a foolish act.

‘This rope is too slack. I’m jiggered, so take it up,’ he yelled. ‘Who is belaying me?’ When the answer came from above he wished he hadn’t asked.

‘It’s me-ee. Yet again I have you in my power.’ This comment was followed by a much-exaggerated imitation of a wolf howling.

Danny saw a smirk of satisfaction on Willie’s face. Why had he stupidly agreed to come on this climb, which made him feel a complete and utter fool? He could never trust this alleged old friend who’d become so domineering and bad-tempered due to a disagreement and row they’d had some years ago. He’d been a pain ever since because of what he’d done back then. At first Danny had been billeted on a farm, which he’d loved. It had been hard work with one or two problems but he’d enjoyed roaming around the countryside, milking cows and feeding chickens. Willie had lived nearby and when charged with some petty crime of nicking fruit and veg, he’d insisted that he was only helping Danny look for stuff to eat and sell. They’d both been sent to this camp, classed as problem boys.

Since then this nasty liar frequently ordered him to do all manner of jobs or stupid tasks that Willie had no wish to be involved in, demands Danny had to accept to avoid being beaten. Or else he’d find his food messed up by Willie spitting in it. Now he’d got him into this mess, a climb he was making far worse than it should be. It felt as if this bully was wielding the power of life or death over him. Holding a knife in his hand and chortling with laughter, he looked as if he might cut the rope upon which Danny was hanging then drop him off the mountain.

The voice of the camp leader penetrated into his head, again giving him careful instructions. ‘Concentrate on what you are doing, laddie. Keep your weight on your feet. Don’t reach too high with your hand or you’ll lose your balance. Then move one foot at a time.’

Giving a tug, Danny pulled himself up through the so-called chimney but then came the last part – a nasty overhang. He felt his stomach heave into a dark hole of terror. If this practice pitch of fifty feet was so difficult, how did anyone ever have the nerve to climb a big mountain such as Scafell? And how could he be sure he’d survive? He strived not to assume he would suffer a possible disaster, telling himself that he must prove he had the courage to do whatever was required of him. Searching for a hold without the help of his stomach, let alone the unreliable strength of his limbs, he jammed every toe and finger into the minute cracks he could find and hung on to them, silently praying. He’d be so much happier on level ground, or preferably no higher than the bottom rung of a very wide ladder. But he had no intention of being beaten by this rocky crag. Gritting his teeth, Danny swung up his right foot and stuck it on a wide fissure of rock, rather like a long split in a bread roll. Now he just had to get his bottom round, his left foot up and – aah! His feet jerked and slipped off the ledge. The view of the countryside tilted around and a cold sweat broke out over him. Was this the moment he’d die?

‘Help!’ he yelled.

The jerk of the rope tied to his climbing belt felt almost worse than the slip. Knowing how a person could fall twenty feet in one second, he felt deeply grateful for this safety rope that the camp leader always attached in these practice climbs, in addition to the belay. Fortunately, Danny had fallen less than two feet, his nails managing to find contact with a crack in the rock face. Tearing himself up in a fury of panic, he dived over the top as if the devil himself was on his backside. Once he’d recovered from the initial effects of the shock, unhooked himself from the rope and pulled off his safety helmet, he flung himself at Willie to start belting him.