href="#u994005e1-9a88-5c35-999c-1f6d48db644a">Chapter Six
PART THREE Bedfordshire, Autumn 1956 Strangers
PART FOUR Fisher’s Hill, Autumn 1956 Dangerous Love
PART FIVE Bedfordshire, Late Autumn 1956 The Price of Sin
HARRY BLAKE FELT as though he was the last man on earth. It was a lonely, disturbing feeling.
In this rare moment of quiet, the long-ago memories were like moving pictures in his tortured mind; vivid, aching memories of love and loss, of pain and joy and the people and places that had shaped his life so far.
Even now, in this moment of solitude, with the soothing throb of the ocean in his ears and the bright sunshine bouncing off the water, he could not rest easy.
Today was one of those perfect July days when the heart soars and dreams are allowed.
But not for Harry. Not today. Maybe never again.
All about him, ordinary people were enjoying their ordinary lives. Above him, the seagulls mewed and swooped, and sounds of laughter echoed across the sands. Harry was oblivious to all of that.
This was a day for families, a day for fun and being together. But not for him, and not for her. No amount of laughter or sunshine could change what was happening in his life.
He had no say in the events unfolding. Events which, in a few short months, had changed his world – and that of his loved ones. Only once before had he felt so lost and alone, and that was many years ago when he was a fresh-faced lad of eighteen.
Back then, he had made a decision which had haunted him ever since; a hard decision, forced on him by youth and circumstance. Because of his decision, lives had been fractured – including his own – and for that he would always blame himself.
Today though, he was caught up in a completely different nightmare. This time, he had played no part in its creation, because unlike before, he had no way of influencing the outcome. This time, it was all too final. Too cruel.
Deep in thought, his gaze absentmindedly followed the sailing-boats. Wending their way through Weymouth Harbour, their tall white sails billowing as they thrust along on the crest of a gentle breeze, they were a magnificent sight.
Vaguely aware of the playful children building castles in the sand, a kind of rage cut like a blade through his heart. She should be here, he thought. Sharing it all with us.
He could see her now, the chocolate-brown hair and the pretty dark eyes that crinkled in the corners when she laughed, her long slender legs swinging as she perched on their garden wall, and her smiling eyes uplifted to the sunshine.
Sara was a good woman, a woman of kindness and humour, and now, for reasons he would never understand, something had happened. It was happening right now, at this very moment. Relentless and unforgiving, it would go on until the end.
Nothing he could do would halt the inevitable.
‘Daddy!’ The little boy’s voice cut across his dark thoughts. ‘Please may I have an ice cream?’
Composing himself, Harry turned and nodded.
Excited, the boy jumped up and down. ‘And can I have strawberry sauce?’
‘Go on then.’ Harry wondered at the way life could still go on, when inside, his world was falling apart. ‘Here’s a shilling. Try not to get it all over your shirt.’
Pushing
