Maggie's Girl (15 page)

Peter entered the hall just as Maggie walked calmly down the broad staircase. He looked up, his breath catching in his throat. She was beautiful!

She wore a gold, ankle-length suit, quite fitted, with a smart little hat to match. She carried white roses in salute to Hughie,
on her mind so much – a good sign, she thought, for herself and Andrew.

‘We've been here before, Dad.' She reached the last step, and laughed through her tears.

‘You'll have us both at it,' he warned, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief.

‘It's not quite the same, any road up,' he murmured. The lump in his throat was threatening to choke him. ‘A lot's changed over these years. You and the Bradshaws – the factory – this.' His airy wave took in the beautiful old house, the gardens, everything he saw that had elevated his Maggie somewhere far beyond him.

He blew his nose. Maggie was so beautiful; he had to accept that his daughter was a Bradshaw now.

‘Last time, I was your real dad!' he blurted out. It had been on his mind all morning. When else was he going to get the chance to tell her so?

Maggie's flowers began to tremble.

‘But you are my real father!' she cried softly. ‘Who else should I call Dad? I know the truth, but nothing's changed! You'll always be Dad.'

She sounded so fierce! Hope sprang into his heart as she reached up and kissed him.

Maggie braced herself.

‘Come on, Dad. We've a date to keep.'

Andrew would be in church by now, and she hadn't the heart to leave him kicking his heels a moment longer than necessary.

This was going to be a wonderful day, and she meant to enjoy every single moment of it.

‘Silas would have been so proud of her,' Adèle murmured, gazing around her drawing-room, full of the happy chatter of guests relaxing after a delightful service.

Silas would have loved to host such a wonderful occasion. The champagne was flowing – even Adèle was on her second glass.

‘They make a lovely couple,' Mary Bertram agreed, hugging John's arm, her eyes shining with love. They were behaving more like a courting couple than one so long wed.

Mary couldn't believe her good fortune, or that catastrophe had been miraculously transformed to deep content.

‘My sister looks stunning,' she teased.

‘She does.' He waited for indignation to rise in Mary. ‘But not as stunning as her little sister.'

‘Our Billy's such a whiz with his hands. He'd have made a wonderful engineer.' Daisy's voice, full of maternal affection, floated towards them.

Adèle looked across. She'd cornered Bertie Bertram, though John's dad didn't appear overly put out at this turn of events.

His wife, Connie, was conducting an animated conversation with Peter about their respective plans for the summer bedding plants. Peter often came up to the big house now to give Stokes a hand in the garden, and Adèle blessed him for it.

‘Told you no one would notice!' Harry Bates grinned, sidling round to the drinks table, Clifford in tow, his hand reaching towards a tray of glasses brimming with champagne.

‘I've noticed, Master Harry!' Stamps, holding the tray, stared at him frostily, and Harry's hand fell away at once.

Stamps hid a satisfied smile – though the boy was right enough, no one would have noticed. Folk were too busy
enjoying themselves, Bradshaws and Bridges together, for the world as if they were one large and happy family.

If Stamps hadn't seen it with his own two eyes, he'd never have credited it.

The Bertram and Bates lads were still hanging round. Stamps's thin lips twitched. A single glass of champagne couldn't do a deal of harm.

‘Oh, go on.' He stood between the boys and their parents, and encouraged each to lift a glass from his tray. And a good job no one was looking; it was enough to lose him his job.

‘Gosh, thanks, Stamps!' The two boys moved away, eyes on the glasses, careful not to spill a drop, and grinning widely.

Maggie Hardaker, who'd seen it all, chuckled. Who would have believed Stamps had a human side? Wait until she told Andrew.

She looked up fondly at her husband of two hours, at that moment chatting amiably to Billy about the honeymoon, excited about the trip to Scotland he'd spent happy hours organising. Maggie had only just found out about it.

Unnoticed, she left his side and glided through the wedding guests, slipping out into the cool hall.

Then she stopped short.

What a thing to remember today! The day when she was the nursery maid, and Silas had crashed into her. The tray loaded with crockery she'd been carrying went flying. That great bear of a man had gone down on his hands and knees and helped her gather the shattered pieces. Had he felt something between them, even then?

She was being over-fanciful. It was the day and the
excitement
…

She stopped on the steps, eyes shielded against the sun, her
breath catching in delight. Silas had always said this was the finest view in Castle Maine – wasn't that the reason he'd built his house here in the first place?

The rolling valleys and meadows studded with buttercups and daisies, the sun sparkling on the water and the roofs of the houses, even the rows of cottages where she'd grown up next to the pit heads – and drawing her gaze, the massive factory, beside the river on which it depended.

‘There you are.' A pair of firm hands folded around her waist, and she leaned back.

‘Only hours married, and already she's trying to get away from me!' Andrew grinned, stooping to kiss the top of her head, and she reached for his hand, her gaze wandering back to the factory.

‘I'll never get away from this place, Andrew.'

Wherever she'd gone, whatever else had happened, the factory had always been there, waiting for her.

It was as if there was an unbreakable thread between them.

‘I can't believe what's happened these last few months,' she said. ‘It feels like a dream.'

‘It's no dream, my darling.'

‘I wish it was! I wish Silas was still here—'

‘It's happened. You have to cope.' His eyes softened, his grip on her hand tightened. ‘I'm sorry I haven't been as supportive as I might.'

He'd been meaning to say that for a long while. What did it matter whether she worked alongside him or not, so long as she was happy?

‘I'm here, that's all I wanted to say,' he added.

‘Whatever kind of mess I make, you mean!' She grinned amiably.

‘I have every faith in you, and so has everyone else! Your grandfather, for one …'

Her grandfather. Silas Bradshaw. Silas's factory, his town, his plans for the future he was no longer here to see. She'd taken over his empire. How could she possibly live up to it – or to him? So many people's livelihoods depended on her.

Silas had always been a good employer, a man who stuck up for the rights of his workers, who provided them with an
environment
in which they were able to flourish. He'd been no fool, either; a happy workforce was a productive one.

How well she'd grown to know him. A chip off the old block, he'd called her once.

Down in the valley below, the sun glinted on the red brick of the factory. Ugly, some called it, but it seemed curiously
beautiful
to Maggie now, the slatted light striking fire from the windows.

The hooter had sounded not half an hour since, signalling the start of the second shift. The girls would be hard at work, looking forward to getting through it, just as she had, once upon a time.

The war had forged a new world, changing so much for the better. She couldn't let them down – she couldn't let Silas down!

She heaved a huge sigh of relief, as if her heart had opened at last. Sunlight burst in, bringing with it her painful past, her glorious present and her every hope for the future.

There was so much to do, so much to think about!

And first, there was the little matter of her honeymoon. She turned to Andrew, whose lips met hers, and her heart thrilled to the future.

Daisy's Girl