The Girl in the Scrapbook by Carolyn Ruffles (reading women TXT) 📕

continued bluntly. ‘How could you bear to raise another man’s child, especially when it’s a man you detest?’

‘The child is yours so I would love it as I love you,’ he replied simply. There was a silence and Norah hardly dared breathe.

‘God help me, I didn’t think I’d be doing this again.’ He got to his feet and then knelt on one knee before her. ‘I love you,’ he repeated. ‘You are the only woman I will ever love. It would be an honour to marry you and live out my days with you. I will love your baby as my own and, hopefully, in time, we’ll have more babies. Marrying you is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not being gallant. This is what I want. Norah Dunn, will you please marry me?’

‘Oh Arthur!’ She pulled him to his feet and flung herself into his arms. ‘I love you too. Yes!’ She hugged him tightly as if she would never let him go. ’Yes, I will marry you, if you’re sure?’ She looked up into his deep brown eyes and saw his love for her shining there.

‘I’m sure,’ he grinned and then he kissed her.

◆◆◆

Chapter 13

Emily - December 2016

December had crept in on a tide of damp, gloomy weather and Emily had decided to get the Christmas decorations out. Now Alex was three, he was all too aware of what that meant. Despite his mum’s best efforts, he had seen seasonal advertisements promoting the latest toys and games so he was already at a fever pitch of anticipation. That evening, Adam had promised to bring home a tree and they were all going to decorate it together.

A week had passed since she'd looked at the photographs in Norah’s scrapbook and had that moment of recognition about the cottage but she was no further forward in her efforts to identify where she'd seen it.  Probably another dead end, she thought dispiritedly. Perhaps it had just been a figment of her imagination. Once again, she felt unsettled and restless. All the time, answers seemed to dangle tantalisingly out of reach, as elusive as the end of a rainbow.

Molly had been almost constantly in attendance during the daytime while Adam was at work and the sight of her mournful face did not help Emily’s mood. Instead of being the reassuring presence she had been during Emily’s childhood, she had become the focal point for her frustration.

‘For goodness sake, haven’t you got someone else you can go and torment?’ she snapped on one occasion when she had looked up from the newspaper to find Molly staring at her across the kitchen table.

Molly, of course, did not reply; she just continued to watch with baleful, green eyes and Emily felt full of reproach.

‘I’m sorry, Molly. I know I’m being snappy and short-tempered. Just ignore me.’

Luckily, the anticipation of Christmas and the joy of her son’s wonder at it all had provided a welcome distraction. Emily resolved to channel her energies into making the celebrations extra special. First though, the boring bit - she needed to declutter and do some serious tidying. She was no longer surprised at the havoc a three-year-old could wreak in a room in the space of a few hours and, whilst they did endeavour to tidy the worst of it together at the end of each day, inevitably the chaos spread throughout the house. Emily resolved to start with Alex’s things and then move on to her own. Toys had to be put away; piles of mail needed to be sorted and either filed, actioned or thrown out; an ever-growing pile of newspapers and magazines had to be collected up and put in the recycle bin.

Initially, she decided to make it into a game to do with Alex. She gave him clues and, once he had successfully identified the correct toy, they ceremoniously returned it to the toy box. After an hour though, very little had been achieved and Alex had tired of the game. She decided instead to let him watch his favourite DVD while she did the rest on her own.

It took until lunchtime to clear all the floors and other surfaces of Alex’s paraphernalia. It was incredible the number of toys and games he had managed to accumulate in his short life and Emily resolved to have a bit of a clear out in the new year. She also made a mental note to hold back a little on the presents he received for Christmas. It was a constant source of anxiety to her that he should not be a spoilt child who took things for granted.

In the afternoon, while Alex was having his nap, she made a start on her own clutter. There were piles of newspapers, magazines and junk mail both in the kitchen and the sitting room. She grabbed an armful and headed for the back door, only to find Molly standing in the doorway, blocking her path and staring at her with a look of such intent that Emily felt quite alarmed.

‘Come on, Molly. Move out of the way. I haven’t got time for this.’ She spoke sharply, struggling to maintain her hold on the shifting mound of paper but Molly stood firm. Emily sighed and put the pile of papers on the floor. Hands on hips, she glared at Molly.

‘What is it? Why won’t you move?’

She knew she could just keep going. After all, Molly had no substance, no skin, bone or muscle to stop her. How many times, as a child, had she reached out for her, only to have her dissolve around her fingers and disappear? Still, something gave her pause.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she demanded. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous!’ Huffily, she picked up the pile again and set it on the worktop next to the door. ‘Ok, you win. I won’t go out there. Happy now?’

Molly continued to stand in the doorway as Emily collected the rest of the newspapers and magazines and deposited