Free A Winter Bride by Isla Dewar Page A

away from her, she would slide into his arms. This was perfect, so much warmer and more comfortable than making love in the car; no more steamy windows. In the morning, Harry would wink at them. Of course he knew what was going on; his son was only doing what he would have done when he was his age, if he’d had the chance. It was natural, he thought. It never occurred to him that Alistair might, like his brother, make his girlfriend pregnant and have to wed. Alistair was the cautious one. And Johnny was simply a casualty of passion. That’s what happened. It was life.
    And even though Johnny’s mischievousness had led to him and Carol having to get married, Harry knew that each man was responsible for his own actions and that it wasn’t his place to warn Alistair from making the same mistake as his brother.
    May took Nell under her wing, and bought her gifts: a new handbag; a watch; a cashmere jersey. ‘I saw it and thought about you,’ she’d say. She’d regularly turn up at the shop where Nell worked. ‘Just passing. Thought you might like to go out for a spot of lunch.’ Nell was flattered. She’d never been taken out to lunch in her life. Her family never ate any meal out, ever. May would take her arm and together they’d walk to the North British Hotel, a plush, expensive and comfortable place where May’s face was known and always welcome. ‘Table for two for Nell and me,’ May would say. No matter how busy the place was, she was never denied. Waiters bowed their heads, pulled out their chairs, fussed round them with menus and the wine list. Nell had her first taste of being important – one of the privileged people – and she loved it.
    ‘You would think your mother would be careful with money considering her childhood,’ Nell said to Alistair once. It was late. They were in bed, speaking quietly in the dark. ‘I thought people who’d known real poverty saved a lot, in case it ever happened to them again. They want to feel secure.’
    Alistair had agreed that she had a point. ‘My ma loves money. She likes to keep it close. She loves cash and hates banks.’ He’d sighed, ‘That’s what she keeps in the green cupboard in the kitchen. A stash; thousands of pounds.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Don’t tell her I told you. It’s a secret. A secret stash.’
    Nell promised not to tell.
    ‘She loves to spend money because for years and years she never had any. She didn’t have friends at school on account of how she looked. Not exactly raggy clothes, but pretty close. Now she loves to buy things for people. Probably she’s buying their love and friendship, but I don’t like to think about that. And she can’t resist buying things for herself and for the house. She gets a kick out of splashing cash around. She loves that shop assistants fuss round her. Plus I don’t think she can quite get over the fact she can afford to buy whatever she wants. She sees something. She likes it. She buys it. She’s happy.’
    Nell said she still thought May should save for a rainy day.
    ‘Oh, there’s plenty in the green cupboard for a rainy day. There’s money enough in there for years and years of rainy days,’ Alistair had told her.
    In time, Nell was allowed into the inner sanctum. May let her into the kitchen when she was cooking. Nell learned to chop, slice and mix ingredients, and, as the room filled with the aroma of garlic and onions hitting hot olive oil, she listened to May’s opinions on men, love, money and the family.
    ‘Nothing is more important than family. Romantic love, pah.’ May had flapped her hand wafting it away. She’d told Nell how she thought romance was an annoyance. It made your heart beat too fast. It disturbed your sleep. It stopped you thinking straight. ‘It’s nothing; lasts a year, maybe two. Then you’re left with affection and companionship if you’re lucky. Money matters, of course, but only if you use it properly. It can buy you lovely things and that’s fine. Mostly