Free Unforgettable by Jean Saunders Page B

unlikely that she ever would. He wasn’t
her
saxophone player, anyway. Never had been and never would be. She folded up the letter and put it in an envelope ready for posting on her way to return the alterations she had been doing for someone in a posher part of the town.
    It was only by chance that the lady had seen Gracie’s card in the grocer’s window after seeing someone off on one of the foreign cruises. The words
London Outworker
, persuaded her to leave a message at the shop for Gracie to call on her with a view to doing some work for her and her daughters. Since then she had been recommended to some of Mrs Farthing’s friends on account of her fine and speedy workmanship, and there was no shortage of orders.
    â€˜Didn’t I tell you, Mum?’ Gracie had said gleefully. ‘It pays to advertise and not to hide your light—or your skills—under a bushel.’
    * * *
    Queenie was thankful her girl was finding something to occupy herself, and doing something that she enjoyed. The money didn’t matter. What mattered was that Graciewasn’t always watching and listening for the next cough or the next painful wheezing breath. It mattered to Queenie that Gracie could keep her self-respect, and that she wasn’t going to kowtow to her father after Queenie was gone, and end up being a skivvy for him. She had got the doctor on her side about that, persuading him to assure Gracie that when the time came, her father wouldn’t need looking after, and was perfectly capable of looking after himself.
    Queenie was also sure that Mick Brown wouldn’t be slow in looking around for another wife-cum-housekeeper to take care of him. He was still a reasonable-looking man, for all his drinking, and had always had an eye for the ladies. They would be flitting around, bringing him home-baked pies and offering to clean the house for him …
    There had been a time when she would have been eaten up with jealousy and misery at the thought. Now, she knew that none of it would matter when she was gone, especially if it freed Gracie from a life of drudgery, caring for her father.
    * * *
    The Farthings lived on top of a hill from where they could look down on the rest of thetown. Today, as usual, Gracie had to pause for breath by the time she reached the top. The trams didn’t come this far, and most folk who lived here owned a car. The husband was a businessman, and the young daughters, Adele and Edna, were at boarding-school. When they went back to school after a holiday, their mother felt at a loss before taking up her various charity works again, and Gracie suspected it was the reason she spent more time talking to the girl with the sewing skills than she might otherwise have done.
    â€˜Come into the conservatory and get your breath back before you show me your handiwork, Gracie,’ she said on that warm afternoon. ‘You look very flushed, dear, although you have a very good complexion, like my daughters.’
    There was a wistful note in her voice but, pleasant though Mrs Farthing was, Gracie had no wish to be thought of as a kind of substitute daughter while her spoiled little girls were away at school. She’d only met them once, and she was glad to conduct her business with the mother when they weren’t around. But then Mrs Farthing spoke more briskly.
    â€˜So let’s see what you managed to do with the girls’ dresses, shall we?’
    Marriage to a successful businessmanmight have given her many advantages, but she had a thrifty streak, and she liked clothes to last as long as possible before they were given away to charity. Gracie had spent a deal of time lengthening Adele and Edna’s summer dresses by letting down the hems and adding rows of colourful braiding to disguise the machine lines.
    Mrs Farthing was pleased with the result, and gave her more work to take away. Although she was always gracious in passing the time of day, Gracie guessed that she