Table Of ContentLiving a Lie by Josephine Cox
“Pulls at the heartstrings’ Today “Hailed quite rightly as a gifted writer in the
tradition of Catherine Cookson’ Manchester Evening News “Driven and
passionate, she stirs a pot spiced with incest, wife beating… and murder’ The
Sunday Times ” A born storyteller’ Bedfordshire Times Don’t miss Josephine
Cox’s other sagas of North Country life: HER FATHER’S SINS, LET LOOSE
THE TIGERS, WHISTLE DOWN WOMAN, ANGELS
CRY
SOMETIMES, TAKE THIS WOMAN, OUTCAST, ALLEY URCHIN,
VAGABONDS, DON’T
CRY ALONE, JESSICA’S GIRL, NOBODY’S DARLING, BORN TO SERVE
and A LITTLE BADNESS, all available from Headline. Cover illustration by
Len Thurston 9”78074?” 248323” United Kingdom 5.99 Australia $14.95
= Recommended Price Only
{719,1538,979,1563DLINE on Saga ISBN 0-7472-4832-X
The story of Josephine Cox is as extraordinary as anything in her novels. Born
in a cotton-mill house in Blackburn, she was one of ten children. Her parents,
she says, brought out the worst in each other, and life was full of tragedy and
hardship but not without love and laughter. At the age of sixteen, Josephine met
and married ‘a caring and wonderful man’, and had two sons. When the boys
started school, she decided to go to college and eventually gained a place at
Cambridge University, though was unable to take this up as it would have meant
living away from home. However, she did go into teaching, while at the same
time helping to renovate the derelict council house that was their home, coping
with the problems caused by her mother’s unhappy home life and writing her
first full-length novel. Not surprisingly, she then won the “Superwoman of Great
Britain’ Award, for which her family had secretly entered her, and this coincided
with the acceptance of her novel for publication.
Josephine gave up teaching in order to write full time. She says “I love writing,
both recreating scenes and characters from my past, together with new storylines
which mingle naturally with the old. I could never imagine a single day without
writing, and it’s been that way since as far back as I can remember.” Her
previous novels of North Country life are all available from Headline and are
immensely popular.
“Driven and passionate, she stirs a pot spiced with incest, wife-beating … and
murder’ The Sunday Times
“A born storyteller’ Bedfordshire Times Also by Josephine Cox from Headline
Queenie’s Story Her Father’s Sins Let Loose the Tigers The Emma Grady Trilogy
Outcast Alley Urchin Vagabonds Whistledown Woman Angels Cry Sometimes
Take This Woman Don’t Cry Alone Jessica’s Girl Nobody’s Darling Bora to
Serve More than Riches A Little Badness Living a Lie
Josephine Cox
HEADLINE
Copyright 1995 Josephine Cox
The right of Josephine Cox to be identified as the Author of the Work has been
asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act
1988.
First published in 1995 by HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING
First published in paperback in 1996 by HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING
10 987654321
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior
written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of
binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN 0 7472 4832 X
Printed and bound in Great Britain by BPC Paperbacks Ltd HEADLINE BOOK
PUBLISHING A division of Hodder Headline PLC 338 Euston Road London
NW1 3BH For Hilary and Bernie Fate brought us together. Friendship will keep
us close. Luv you!
CONTENTS
PART ONE 1975 CHOICES
PART TWO 1977 CHANCES
PART THREE 1980 LOSERS
PART FOUR 1981 WINNERS
PART ONE 1975 Choices
Chapter One
Riddled with guilt, the young woman kept her gaze averted. Beneath her calm
and elegant manner seethed a terrible secret, a dark and dangerous intent that no
one there could have foreseen, least of all the dark-haired girl hurrying along
beside her.
It was 1975. To the sober-suited commuters waiting for the train to London,
Lucinda Marsh was a ray of sunshine, a vision of loveliness in high heels and a
red tight-fitting two-piece. With her trim figure, mass of wavy golden hair and
smiling blue eyes, she was a welcome distraction.
The platform was crowded. Only a short while ago there had been the usual
daily chatter about the state of the government and Margaret Thatcher’s
emergence as new Tory leader, the awful February weather and the train being
late yet again. The meaningless chatter subsided with the arrival of the young
woman and the girl.
At first there were admiring glances, then admiration gave way to curiosity, then
almost to a sense of expectancy.
Pausing by the edge of the platform, Lucinda glanced nervously at the middle-
aged man standing nearby. He was holding a newspaper in front of his face, but
his eyes peeped over the top and he smiled at the girl with Lucinda a delightful
creature with coal-black hair and earth-coloured eyes. When, embarrassed, she
looked away, he bent his head to read, but like the others was captivated by
Lucinda, strangely moved by her beauty and her manner.
There was something secretive about her, something oddly bewitching.
Gripping the girl’s hand, the young woman made her way to the far end of the
platform, the tips of her heels echoing against the cold hard ground, her outer
composure belying the turmoil inside and the questions, always the same, only
this time more urgent. Was she right?
Was she wrong? This was not the first time she had made a decision to escape,
but then she had always changed her mind, deciding she should give it another
try, for Kitty’s sake if not for her own. This time, nothing on God’s earth could
make her change her mind. Today was her day. This time she was in control. For
too long she had endured agonies in the name of love. Soon the agony would be
over. Not his though. To hell with him!
Dressed for the occasion, she was ready for the long journey. As she mentally
prepared herself, she could feel Kitty’s hand in hers and her heart warmed with
love.
Pausing to look down on that trusting young face, she was shaken by the dark
eyes that returned her glance: dark brooding eyes, incredibly beautiful. Her
father’s eyes. Yet where Bob’s intense gaze instilled fear in her, Kitty’s
inquisitive glance created only a sense of terrible guilt.
Stooping closer she asked tenderly, “Are you all right?” While she talked, her
long manicured fingers toyed with the girl’s rich black tresses.
Kitty was twelve years old. She loved adventure, and she adored her mother.
“Where are we going?” she asked for the umpteenth time. Last night her parents
had quarrelled again. As she had so many times before. Kitty had sat on the
stairs listening, afraid to go in, yet wanting to stop them. But how could she stop
them? She was only a girl, and they were adults.
Lucinda too was reliving the memory of last night.
“You shouldn’t ask where we’re going,” she gently chided.
“Are we going to London?” Delightful visions of parks and palaces filled her
mind.
Her mother laughed softly.
“We’ll see.”
“Sarah wanted me to call for her this morning.” Kitty and Sarah Jenkins had
known each other for ever.
“We’re playing clarinet in the school concert.”
“You’re very fond of her, aren’t you? And her brother Harry.” Lucinda smiled
knowingly.
“Has he taken up music lessons yet?”
“No.” Kitty was only a little disappointed.
“He’d rather play football and swim in the school team.” Her young heart
bubbled with joy.
“But he’s coming to listen to me and Sarah play in the concert.” A terrible
thought struck her.
“We will be back in time for the concert tonight, won’t we?”
Yet again Lucinda questioned what she was about to do. This morning she had
been so sure. Now she could hardly suppress the niggling doubts that crept up on
her.
“There are more important things than school,” she said finally.
“Do you know what happened last night? Did you hear your father?”
Kitty lowered her gaze.
“You were fighting.”
“You don’t ever want that to happen again, do you?”
“No.”
“Kitty?” The voice was softer now.
“Look at me.” Kitty didn’t want to look up. Whatever her mother said, it would
happen again. It always did.
“Kitty?” There were tears in the voice, and something else, something that
intrigued the child.
“Please… look at me.” Kitty raised her dark eyes and what she saw made her
ashamed. Her mother was crying.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. It wasn’t her fault, but she felt responsible somehow.
“Do you love me, Kitty?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to come with me?”
“Yes.”
“Kitty?”
“Yes, Mother?”
“I don’t want you to hate your father. Especially not today.” There were times
when Kitty did hate him, but mostly she tried not to think about it.
“I wish you wouldn’t fight.”
“Do you think it’s my fault?”
“Not all the time.”
“Your father won’t let us live in peace. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Kitty recalled the many times when she and her mother would come
home from shopping and there would be a furious row. Her father would say
cruel things, accusing her mother of meeting some man or other, then he would
shout and scream.
The last time he hit out with his belt, cutting her mother’s face and making it
bleed.
“Some men are bad. Kitty.”
“Why?”
“They like to hurt.” Gently fingering the bruise on her temple, Lucinda
confessed, “Your father hit me again last night… see?”
Gingerly lifting a strand of hair, she revealed an angry red weal that stretched
