A Mind of her Own Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  A Selection of Titles by Rosie Harris from Severn House

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  A Selection of Titles by Rosie Harris from Severn House

  CHANCE ENCOUNTERS

  GUARDED PASSIONS

  HEARTBREAK AND HAPPINESS

  THE MIXTURE AS BEFORE

  MOVING ON

  STOLEN MOMENTS

  ONLY LOVE CAN HEAL

  NEVER TOO OLD FOR LOVE

  A MIND OF HER OWN

  Rosie Harris

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain 2018 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  Eardley House, 4 Uxbridge Street, London W8 7SY.

  First published in the USA 2019 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS of

  110 East 59th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022

  This eBook edition first published in 2018 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2019 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  Copyright © 2018 by Marion Harris.

  The right of Marion Harris to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8847-1 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-971-9 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0186-7 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  A final thank you to all my family, friends and fans who enjoy reading my books.

  This is my final book because my eyesight is now so diminished that I am unable to read the screen on my computer or the manuscripts afterwards.

  This book would not have been possible if it had not been for the help of Carmel Bevan who has read through every page and checked for typos and punctuation.

  I am also grateful to my grandson, Robert, for his persistent encouragement.

  Thanks, too, to Caroline Sheldon of the Caroline Sheldon Literary Agency and also to all at Severn House for their support.

  One

  ‘Of course, I miss him! I’m surprised you even ask. I thought you of all people would understand,’ Betty Wilson said, sharply.

  She was a trim woman of medium height with neat grey hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a dark-brown dress with discreet make-up.

  ‘I’m bound to; we were married for fifty years, so of course I miss him!’ She sighed. ‘The first thing I was aware of when I woke up in the morning was his head next to mine on the pillow. In later years when he retired, I not only saw him at breakfast time, I saw him throughout the day when he was doing odd jobs around the place. I saw him at lunchtime, and asleep in his armchair in the afternoon, as well as for the rest of the day.

  ‘Of course, I miss him, so why must people keep asking me do I miss him? Of course, I do. You miss Jeff, don’t you?’

  The woman she was speaking to, her friend Sally Bishop, nodded slowly. She was a few years younger than Betty but she looked older with her rather severe white blouse fastened high to the neck, and a plain grey cardigan.

  ‘Oh yes, I do,’ she agreed solemnly, ‘even though it’s almost two years since he died.’

  ‘Well, so do I,’ Betty told her, ‘and in my case it’s only four months, remember. I’m not going to stop doing everything I did in the past, and I’m doing his jobs out here in the garden as well his jobs indoors. That’s the least I can do,’ she said determinedly, her head proudly raised. ‘I’m fit and well so why shouldn’t I do the jobs that he did over the past few years, even though he was getting more and more shaky.

  ‘Not that he would ever admit it. He liked to think that he was as fit as he ever was but, of course, he wasn’t. The list of things he couldn’t do were endless and the older he got the shakier he became and everything was an effort.

  ‘Nevertheless, I’m not going to dwell on that. I’ll pick up where he left off and run the place just the same as we always did. I have no intention of moving to one of these sheltered flats for the elderly, no matter what the family say.

  ‘This is my home. It’s been my home for almost the past fifty years. I remember the day we moved in. It was raining all morning and as I waited for the furniture van to arrive, I thought everything we owned, and that wasn’t a lot, was going to be ruined by the rain.

  ‘Of course, it wasn’t, because the moment the lorry drew up the rain stopped, the sun came out, and it was a beautiful May day. I couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect.

  ‘We didn’t have a lot of furniture but what we had was precious since it had been given to us by various members of our family. To other people it must have looked like a hodgepodge of mismatched chairs, tables, cupboards, crockery and ornaments.

  ‘Even so, it was ours and this was our first home. We’d been married for almost three years and had been living with Jeff’s mother and father. They were very kind to us but I could see they were fed up of having us there, and I can well understand that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sally agreed, ‘I know what you mean. We lived with my mum and dad for two years and, though we got on well enough, we badly wanted a place of our own because they were settled in their ways and they didn’t want a young couple coming along and disturbing their routine.’

  ‘I thought it was all my prayers come true when we found this place. It was my dream cottage,’ Betty sighed. ‘It was the sort of place I always wanted. F
riends raised their eyebrows when I said we were moving into Clover Crescent. “Why buy an old place like that when you could have one of the new modern houses they’re putting up in the village?” they asked. “Because being tucked away in a quiet little lane off the main road is what I want,” I told them. “I like the cottage far better than one of those boxes they’re putting up.” I know it’s small and I must admit it was a bit of a squash when the children were growing up, but nevertheless it was ours. It has so many memories that now I couldn’t bear to live anywhere else.’

  ‘And I wouldn’t want you to move,’ Sally Bishop told her. ‘We’ve been friends now for so long that I just couldn’t stand it.’ Her pale blue eyes filled with tears and her mouth trembled.

  ‘I don’t like the way everything is changing all around me these days,’ she went on. ‘Everything seems different. Even this place is no longer a village, but a small town. The traffic is faster, the shops have all become supermarkets, and even most of the people are strangers and so busy with their own affairs they haven’t got time for each other.

  ‘As for the children, well you wouldn’t know they were children these days. The little girls don’t play with dolls and prams; they wear trousers, or jeans as they call them, to be the same as the boys, and all they want to do is fiddle with these little machine things they carry around with them. They all go to school in cars and none of them ever play ball games in the road, or seem to do things on their own. If they go to the park their mums or dads go with them to make sure they are safe.’

  ‘Well, we haven’t changed,’ Betty assured her. ‘We might be getting a bit slower but we’ve still got plenty of time to do things, and I intend to carry on and keep my home going the same as it always has been. I’ve made that quite clear to Tim and to Mary,’ she added.

  ‘And what did they say?’ Sally asked, pursing her lips questioningly.

  ‘They say it’s my life and I must do as I wish, but they’ll help if I need them to. Tim’s wife, Brenda, is the problem. She always has had too much to say for herself has that one. She thinks herself a cut above the rest of us, but when all is said and done she is only a receptionist. Sits out there preening herself, patting at that bush of fiery red hair and smiling at people when they come up to her desk for information.

  ‘She’d like me to go in a home so that they can wash their hands of me, but she’s got another thing coming. I may take half a day to do jobs around the house that only used to take half an hour, but I can still do them and intend to go on doing them,’ Betty said clamping her lips together grimly.

  She didn’t tell Sally that Brenda was not only constantly saying that she would be better in a home, but was forever pointing out things she hadn’t done in the house; finding dust on ledges, or raising her eyebrows if she saw a few crumbs on the kitchen floor.

  She never had seen eye to eye with Brenda but she always managed to stay reasonably friendly for Graham’s sake.

  Graham, their son, Betty’s grandson, was now in his twenties and, like her, he didn’t relish squabbles. Ever since he was a child he had done everything in his power to avoid them.

  For the most part he stayed neutral but she knew she had only to ask him and he would help her in any way she needed.

  Mary’s husband, Toby Parker, was rather like that, too. He said little or nothing. He wasn’t overly friendly but neither was he unfriendly, and she knew that he would always be there to offer a helping hand if she ever needed one.

  The other person, who was such a long-standing friend that he was almost part of the family and always eager to help her, was Peter Brown. She’d known him practically all her life and he’d been a close friend of Jeff’s. In his younger days he’d been in the Navy and travelled the world. He was still a bachelor but he had his own house and did all his own cooking, and his garden was a picture.

  He and Jeff had always been friends and helped out in each other’s gardens when there was a big job to do. They exchanged cuttings and ideas all the time. They had regularly gone out together for a drink on Friday nights and Peter had come to them most weekends for Sunday lunch.

  He still came on a Sunday, and he made no secret of the fact that he would like to see her more often. He kept telling her that he would happily take over the garden and keep it as immaculate as Jeff had always done.

  Her reply was always the same. She would tell him that for the present she didn’t need to call on his help, or anyone else’s.

  ‘Why not let him do it? You feed him once a week and he’s always round here on some pretext or the other, so why not let him take care of the garden for you?’ Sally asked.

  ‘That would be the thin edge of the wedge,’ Betty said tartly. ‘Next thing he’d be doing the shopping for me.’

  ‘Well, he takes you to the shops in his car each week as it is,’ Sally pointed out.

  ‘I know that, but I still do my own shopping,’ Betty insisted. ‘No one tells me what to buy, or picks out the fruit and vegetables, or tells me what joint of meat I should buy.’

  ‘No, maybe not, but he carries them home for you and when he comes on Sunday for lunch he always has a bottle of wine under his arm,’ Sally rallied back. ‘You want to think yourself lucky,’ she went on. ‘Not many of us in our seventies have a friend like that, and he’s several years younger than you. The way you turn down his help it’s a wonder he hasn’t cleared off and found someone younger who would appreciate him. He’s still got a good head of hair and he dresses well and takes good care of himself.’

  ‘I know what you’re saying and I do appreciate his help,’ Betty admitted, ‘but he keeps telling me that he wants to look after me, and all that nonsense, and I want none of it. What with that and my family talking behind my back about me going into a home, I don’t know where I am.

  ‘It’s my life and I’m going to ignore the lot of them and live it my way to the best of my ability.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she went on, ‘I intend to give this big hedge a good trim. Cut it right back.’

  ‘Do you think you can do that?’ Sally said doubtfully. ‘I think you ought to let Peter tackle that job or else hire someone to come in and cut it for you. Get it cut down really low so that you don’t have to stand on those high steps. Your Jeff never looked safe when he was up on them.’

  Betty laughed. ‘I know they’re a bit wobbly but Jeff always said they’d last a lifetime and see him out.’

  ‘Well, they’ve done that all right,’ Sally agreed, dryly. ‘I still think you should get someone in to cut it and cut that great hedge for you, even if it’s Peter or your son.’

  ‘No,’ Betty shook her head determinedly. ‘First thing tomorrow morning I’ll give it a go. You can bring me out a cuppa about ten o’clock, now don’t forget,’ she added with a smile.

  Two

  Betty Wilson was as good as her word.

  Dressed in Jeff’s old boiler suit, and a scarf tied round her hair, she was ready for action and ready to accept the challenge she had made the night before.

  She went straight to the garden shed for the very ladder which Jeff had always used to cut the high hedge. She struggled valiantly to get it out of the shed, across the lawn and fix it into position at the beginning of the hedge. It was tricky; the ground was uneven and the ladder extremely heavy. It took her almost ten minutes to fix it to her own satisfaction. She returned to the shed to rummage for the hedge cutter, plugged it in to the long lead attached to a socket and extension, so that she could run it across the lawn and have the extension close by the foot of the ladder.

  Having satisfied herself once again that the ladder was now quite safe, she picked up the power trimmer and began slowly and carefully to climb the ladder steps. She was about halfway up when the ladder began to tilt for a moment as she clung on, petrified that she was going to fall. Then, carefully adjusting her position on the ladder, she steadied it, waited a couple of minutes and then, convinced that it was safe to start up once again, slowly proceeded to climb upwar
ds so that she could reach the top of the high hedge.

  Sally Bishop was watching from her kitchen window. She had already switched the kettle on ready to make tea for Betty and herself, but her heart was in her mouth as she saw the ladder swaying. She wanted to rush out and see if she could steady it, but she was afraid that might only startle Betty and she might make a movement that would send the latter tippling over onto its side.

  As she watched, Sally saw Peter Brown moving quietly down to the bottom of his own garden, which was adjacent to Betty’s, and edging his way through a gap in the fence into Betty’s garden. She suspected that there was a sufficient gap in his fence to allow him to come and go as he pleased.

  Like her, he was scared of frightening Betty, making her jump and upsetting the position of the ladder, so he remained just inside his own garden, watching and waiting.

  Sally decided to take Peter some tea, as well as Betty and herself, so she put another mug on the tray, took the milk out of the fridge, and began filling the mugs from the big teapot. Then she added a tin of biscuits and opened the back door, ready to carry the loaded tray out into the garden.

  Cautiously she stepped out into the garden.

  Sally paused and looked to where Betty was perched high on the ladder, she seemed to be in full control of the situation. Sally could hear the noise of the hedge trimmer. Sally waved a hand in greeting to Peter and waited as he finally edged in to the garden.

  ‘Would you mind carrying this tray down to Betty?’ she asked with a smile. ‘Put it down on the garden table. She will see it is there and come down for her drink,’ Sally smiled. ‘She told me to make her one at about this time.’

  ‘I imagine it will be very welcome,’ Peter acknowledged, as he took the tray.

  ‘I’ve made you one as well,’ she told him, ‘so drink it before it goes cold, and help yourself to a biscuit.’

  As she spoke the noise of the trimmer stopped. Suddenly there was a bright flash, followed by a startled scream from Betty. She seemed to be surrounded by acrid smoke.