Free Remember Me by Margaret Thornton Page B

visited Scarborough during the summer season for an extended holiday. Maddy and Jessie, meeting on the beach, had become firm friends, and thus Faith had also become a friend to both Williamand Clara. He had been glad of her continuing friendship after his wife had died, although at that time he had not believed it would be possible for him ever to care for a woman in the way that he had cared for Clara. But gradually their friendship and affection, for both William and Faith, had developed into love. He would not – could not – forget Clara. Maddy, in particular, with her golden hair, brown eyes and finely drawn features, was a constant reminder of her mother. But his memories of Clara were now tinged with happiness, subduing the overwhelming sadness he had felt at first.
    He was blessed in his family life too; not just with his own son and daughter, but with the new family he had acquired since his marriage to Faith. Jessica – Jessie – was a grand lass; he had always been fond of her ever since the early days when she and Maddy had discovered that they were kindred spirits. And Tommy and Tilly were delightful; high-spirited and naughty at times, but a constant source of joy and amusement.
    The only fly in the ointment was Samuel. He was the only one who had seemed to resent his mother’s remarriage; the only one of the brood to call him William and not Uncle William; although he would never have expected them to call him Dad or Father. He had tried hard to like Samuel, but he feared that the lad had inherited far more of his father’s character traits – and looks, too – than those of his mother. He had not been sorry to hear the news thatSamuel would be working abroad for a while. He did not know for how long, but the longer the better in William’s view. There was always an atmosphere, a certain tension in the air whenever he stayed with them. He had noticed, also, the signs of a developing attraction between Samuel and Maddy. He had seen the way the young man glanced at her, and he had noticed, too, that Maddy was always pleased to see him; her eyes sparkled more than ever when she was in his company. It was an attachment that he, William, would not wish to encourage. The news that they had met in Leeds did not please him. There was something about Samuel that made him distrustful. Yes, William was not at all sorry that his stepson was going to Peru.
    And then there was Henrietta – Hetty – his elder daughter from a relationship he had formed with Bella Randall when he was a young man of eighteen. It was with a sense of guilt and self-dislike that he looked back on that period of his life. Bella had been one of the herring girls working at the harbour. He had given little heed to the consequences when he had become enamoured of her, and when she had told him that she was expecting his child he had refused, to his subsequent shame, to take responsibility. The young woman had disappeared, back to Northumberland, whence she had come and the child had been adopted.
    When Bella had reappeared in Scarboroughseveral years later William was, by then, happily married to Clara. She had been a disturbing irritant in his life especially when she had come to work in their store alongside his wife. But, to her credit, Bella had never revealed their shameful secret to Clara. William had not told his first wife about his one and only dalliance, something which had preyed on his mind, but which he had never found the courage to divulge.
    Bella had vanished from his life once again, just before his marriage to Faith; and he had believed that it was the end of the chapter. He had not wanted there to be any secrets between himself and his new wife, and so he had told Faith about Bella and about the child born out of wedlock, assuaging, to some extent, the guilt he had always felt at being less than honest with Clara.
    It had not, however, been the end of the story. William had been astonished when, two years ago, his