JOSEPHINE COX
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2008
Copyright © Josephine Cox 2008
Josephine Cox asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9780007221141
Ebook Edition ũ SEPTEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780007283361
Version: 2017-05-10
This book is for my Ken, as always
Huge love and acknowledgement to Chloe and Milly.
Two very special little girls.
Also to our two fine sons, Spencer and Wayne, And Jane.
Thank you all, for the joy you give me.
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
PART ONE Bedford Town, 1996 A Caged Bird | PART TWO London, 1978 In the Beginning | PART THREE Blackpool, 1978 Lighter Hearts | PART FOUR Bedfordshire, 1979 Hideaway | PART FIVE Bedford Town, 1996 Sacrifices | Keep Reading Also By About the Author About the Publisher PART ONE ![]() Bedford Town, 1996 A Caged BirdCHAPTER ONE SOMETIMES, SHE COULD make herself believe that the bad things had never happened. And then there were the other times, when she could feel his breath against her face and his hands around her neck, squeezing, choking the life out of her. She could see the loathing in his eyes as the darkness enveloped her. It was Alice – her dearest friend – who had saved her from the dark. Because of that fine, brave woman, her own life had been spared, albeit at a terrible cost. Through the years that followed, the horror of that night had never left her. She remained ever-vigilant. The darkness kept her prisoner, and the daylight was her enemy. And on the rare occasions when she must go out during the daytime, with every step she was looking over her shoulder, anxious to get back and lock herself inside the house alone with her fears. It was a lonely, forsaken existence. Her treasured collection of records and tapes, and the music she heard on the TV and radio, were her only consolation. For Madeleine Delaney, once known as ‘The Songbird’, music was her life. The beauty of nature also gave her immense pleasure. Come the dawn she would hear the birds welcome a new day, and when the sun lit the skies, she would sit at her open window and feel the gentle breeze on her face – until a passing stranger glanced up from the road outside and frightened her away. In her isolation, Maddy had come to love the seasons like never before. Winter had its own special beauty, with snow-covered trees and laden boughs that hung their heads as though in shame. Her heart sang with the first appearance of the tiny robin redbreast that hopped about her front yard and peeped up at her with bright beady eyes. Below her window, the children threw snowballs in the street, laughing and screeching, wrapped in coats and scarves, oblivious to the driving chill of a winter’s day. Lighter of heart, she would sit and watch and imagine she was down there with them, a child again, with not a care in the world. Inevitably, the same old question would burn its way into her brain: How did you end up alone and unwanted like this, trapped in a self-imposed prison in a rundown house here in the town of Bedford, so very far from your roots? The answer was simple: she had fallen in love with the wrong man, and from the moment she met him, her hitherto contented life began to unravel. Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever find the courage to venture out, live life to the full again, and face the consequences, whatever they might be. Oh, how wonderful, to love and to laugh – and not be afraid any more. Many times she had promised herself she could do it, but seventeen years had come and gone, and now she felt more lonely than she could ever have imagined. Yet in a strange kind of way, she felt safe in her solitude, because if she kept herself to herself, she could never be hurt again. Not like before. ‘Who’s that?’ Curious at the sound of laughter from the street outside, she went across the room and peered out, hiding herself behind the curtain. A group of young people came jostling down the pavement, laughing and joking, full of life. She counted six of them; three boys and three girls. They were the students who lived next door. She had seen some of them come and go before. Her attention was drawn to one particular young woman dressed in skin-tight jeans and a Levi’s denim jacket. Elfin-like, with a cap of fair hair, she had an appealing smile, and when she laughed, it seemed to come from the heart. Shifting the curtain to get a clearer look at this happy young thing, Maddy was shocked when suddenly, one of the boys said something and they all looked up. The fair-haired girl smiled right at her. In the blink of an eye, something passed between the two of them; and Maddy felt a strong sense of kinship with her. Maddy immediately dropped the curtain and backed away as the friends ran up the steps to the shabby student house next door. The fair-haired girl was the last to go in. Lingering on the step she turned her head to glance back up at Maddy again, but seeing how the timid woman had disappeared, she went skipping up the step to join her pals, unaware of the trauma she had caused. That was me once upon a time, Maddy mused. Young and pretty, full of confidence – with loyal friends and a song in my heart. She paused to remember. Oh, but we had such good times then, sharing our hopes for the future, our impossible dreams. She gave a half-smile, which lit up her sad face. Not a day went by when we didn’t laugh out loud. But those days and those people were long gone now. Her heart thickened with nostalgia as she thought, I don’t suppose I will ever see any of them again.’ When she had started performing at the Soho cabaret club, all those years ago, she had fallen deeply in love with its owner, and her friends had drifted away, but not Alice. Alice was special –always there, always watching over her, like the mother Maddy had lost in her teens. How terrible, then, that on that fateful night, darling Alice had paid the ultimate price for befriending her. ‘May God forgive me,’ Maddy murmured aloud, the tears threatening to fall. ‘Why couldn’t I see his badness? How could I have been so blind!’ But it was poor Alice who haunted her waking hours and tortured her sleep. Alice … ‘Dear Alice.’ Her heart hardened. ‘So many times you tried to warn me,’ Maddy told the empty room, ‘and I never listened.’ A deep shivering sigh marbled her words. ‘I know you forgave me, but as long as I live, I can never forgive myself.’ Closing her eyes, she thought of the lovers she had known before she met Steve – good and honest young men who had cherished her and wanted the best for her. And then she had become infatuated with that cruel, merciless man, who had used her and abused her for his own ends. If it hadn’t been for him, she might have found fame and fortune, travelled the world and made a decent life for herself. And through it all, Alice would have been right beside her. That man had taken her confidence and her hopes, and left her in a dark place where there was no laughter, no love. She had fought him – and lost. Now, there was no fight left in her. Like a wounded animal, she hid away, licking her wounds, afraid of the future and what it might bring. Weary to her soul, Maddy went to the dresser and picked up the tiny mirror there, shocked by the image that looked back at her. Her long dark hair was carelessly scraped back with a rubber band. Her face was pale and dog-tired, and void of make-up: no lipstick to shape and warm the generous lips; no shadow to accentuate her once-sparkling dark eyes. ‘I look like an old woman,’ she sighed. ‘I never realised there was so much grey in my hair.’ Desolate, she returned to sit in the chair. Through the bedroom wall, she could hear the low murmurings of conversation from next door. Maddy didn’t mind the noise, or the occasional bursts of loud music. It was comforting to know that outside these walls, life still went on – for others if not for her. She wondered about that pretty young girl and her friendly smile. Did she have a devoted family – a lover? A plan of sorts for the future? Maddy hoped so. Most of all, she hoped that the young woman would be wise enough to avoid making the same mistakes that she herself had made … CHAPTER TWO UNAWARE THAT THEIR next-door neighbour had been so affected by their arrival, the students settled down to enjoy their supper, bought from the chippie on the corner. Dave Wright, who was studying Physics, called their attention to the new member of staff at the college. ‘Hey, that new Maths lecturer is a bit of all right! Do you agree, lads?’ With an appreciative eye for the women, Dave was a real Jack the Lad. ‘Wouldn’t mind a bit of private tuition from her.’ He gave a long, exaggerated sigh. ‘Behave yourself!’ Betsy was the elfin-like creature with a soft heart and big smile. Thrusting his bag of saveloy, chips and two pickled onions into his hands, she asked, ‘What on earth would Poppy say if she heard you talking like that?’ Poppy was a Geography student at the college; she was also Dave’s current girlfriend. Taking a large bite out of his saveloy, Dave threw himself into the nearest armchair and mumbled, ‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’ ‘Honestly, Dave, I don’t know why you say those things, because you know you would never cheat on her.’ Dave nodded and grinned. ‘You’re right. By the way, have you got any tomato ketchup?’ ‘You’re a prat, sticking to one woman. Play the field, that’s what I say.’ Hard-headed and self-opinionated, Darren Brown was a frequent visitor to the house. With his selfish manner and constant bickering, however, he was not always wholeheartedly welcomed. ‘Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen,’ he went on, stabbing at the batter on his cod. ‘There’s hundreds of ’em out there, all gagging for it.’ Good-looking and proud of it, Darren was never short of female company. Used as she was to his callous remarks, Betsy now took stock of him. ‘And what about Ruth?’ she asked. ‘I thought you said you two might get married after college? That’s what she thinks, anyway.’ Darren waved a chip in the air in a dismissive gesture. ‘They were just words … they meant nothing. Ruth is a passing fancy, that’s all.’ ‘You don’t deserve to have a decent girlfriend,’ she told him bluntly. ‘If Ruth knew what you were really like, she’d run a mile.’ All the same, Betsy could see how the girls might be drawn to Darren. Tall, with well-honed muscles and wild dark hair, he had an easy way with him, and when he turned those broody brown eyes on the girls, they simply fell at his feet. ‘One of these days you’ll come unstuck,’ she warned him. ‘I can see it coming a mile off.’ He shrugged. ‘Sounds to me like you’re jealous.’ At this, she burst out laughing. ‘Huh! You should be so lucky.’ ‘Never mind the new Maths lecturer – you can give me tuition any time you like, Daz.’ That was Abigail the dreamer, whose room they were in. Scatter-brained and vulnerable, she could see no harm in him. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not my type.’ Sharp and to the point, he did not mince his words. ‘So, who is your type?’ That was Judith; hard-nosed and ambitious, she had met Abigail in college and invited herself to the house on many occasions. Also, she had long fancied a relationship with Darren; though as yet he had not made a move. ‘Well now, let me see.’ Thrusting a chip into his mouth, the arrogant young man chewed and talked at the same time. ‘Long shapely legs, big firm boobs and a small enough mind not to ask any questions. Oh, and she mustn’t worry about being dumped the day after the night before, if you know what I mean?’ ‘Big boobs and a small mind, eh?’ Judith gave a groan. ‘That lets me out then.’ Darren surveyed her slim, boyish figure. ‘Oh, I’m sure I could fit you in if you really wanted.’ ‘Are your fish cakes and chips all right, Rob?’ Betsy turned her attention to the only one of them who had not joined in the banter. ‘If they’re cold, I can put them in the microwave to warm them up.’ ‘Thanks all the same, Betsy, but they’re fine. Besides, I was that hungry I’d have eaten a scabby dog!’ Not exceptionally good-looking like Daz, or the life and soul of any party like his best friend Dave, Robin was both studious and likeable. In his early twenties, he was a young man going places; studying medicine and working in a big London hospital. This evening, he had driven over in his elderly car to see Dave, whom he had known since their schooldays. From boyhood, nothing had swerved him from his goal to become a doctor, though his father was bitterly disappointed that his only son was not going to follow him into the established family business. ‘Right then.’ Scrambling out of his chair, Darren strode across the room to sort through the records. ‘Jude, how about opening another bottle of wine and I’ll put some good tunes on. There’s a Smiths’ LP in here somewhere, isn’t there?’ Judith objected. ‘Oh God, Morrissey is so depressing. Let’s listen to the Police instead. Oh, and that reminds me. Susie borrowed my Alanis Morissette tape. I’ll have to get it back before she lends it on, like she did with my Madonna one.’ ‘Hey! Don’t start taking over,’ Robin joked. ‘Unless you fancy paying Abigail’s rent between the two of you?’ ‘I wouldn’t mind paying rent if I could live here,’ Judith retaliated. ‘It’s got to be better than living in hall.’ ‘I second that!’ Daz declared, lighting a roll-up. ‘I can’t see why you lot won’t let us share with you. When all’s said and done, there are four bedsits in this house. I could double up with you, Dave, and Judith could double up with one of you girls.’ ‘Not a snowdrop’s chance in hell, mate.’ In a light-hearted way, Dave made his feelings known. ‘I’m not doubling up with anybody. I left four brothers behind at home, and I’ve got my own room at long last. And I am not giving it up for love nor money.’ Betsy and Abigail were of the same mind. ‘At the moment, we can chuck you out when we’ve had enough of you,’ they joked. ‘Yeah,’ Dave said, laughingly addressing himself to Darren. ‘Gawd help us if we had to get up each morning and see your ugly mug.’ In no time at all, the Police were belting out their best, followed by some vintage Stones, and for a while, the friends drank the wine and chatted and smoked – until Darren decided to leap onto a chair and give a performance of his own, playing air guitar and screeching at the top of his voice along to ‘Black Sugar’. ‘Put a sock in it,’ Dave begged him. ‘You’ll have all the cats round.’ Abigail threw a cushion at him and Robin threatened to douse him with cold water. But nothing stopped him, until Betsy pulled the plug from the wall. ‘Party poopers!’ Climbing down from the chair, Daz went storming off into the kitchen in search of more booze. ‘Does anybody mind if I choose the next record?’ That was Betsy. ‘I mind!’ Daz returned to his seat empty-handed. ‘I’m not in the mood for listening to one of your soppy love-songs.’ ‘Too bad,’ she told him, ‘because whether you like it or not, we’re all having a turn at choosing.’ She picked out a Nat King Cole ballad, ‘When I Fall In love’, and it came as no surprise when Darren immediately protested, ‘Bloody hell! Do we have to listen to that rubbish?’ ‘Shut up, misery.’ Judith was rapidly going off him. She gave him a shove. ‘If that’s what Betsy wants, that’s fine by the rest of us, and if you don’t like it, you can go home, you awkward sod.’ Folding his arms, Darren slouched deeper into his chair and pointedly started doing the crossword in the local free paper. As the smooth silky tones of Nat King Cole flowed through the room, the girls sang along. Unaware that Robin was watching her with fond eyes, Betsy let the song wash over her. She loved Nat King Cole’s sensuous voice, and the words were so beautiful. Abigail had bought her the Greatest Hits CD last Christmas, and it was one of Betsy’s prized possessions. It was when Judith stopped singing to cadge a cigarette from Darren, that Betsy thought she heard something. ‘Ssh!’ Sitting bolt upright in her chair, she called for silence, and when everyone was attentive she said, ‘Listen – can you hear that?’ Against all his instincts, Darren found himself listening too, ‘Hey! There is somebody else singing …’ He looked suspiciously from one to another. ‘Come on … what are you lot playing at?’ The rich contralto voice of a woman sailed through the wall, as she sang the song again, to herself. Even muffled, like this, the voice was hauntingly beautiful. ‘Who on earth is that?’ Robin asked into the hush. Dave voiced all their thoughts. ‘It seems to be coming from next door,’ he said. Judith laughed, breaking the spell. ‘What! You can’t mean that strange old woman up at her window.’ ‘Never!’ Darren was adamant. ‘I should think the best she could manage would be a croak. She gives me the heebie-jeebies, she does, spying on us from behind her net curtains, and creeping about in the dark.’ He gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘There’s something dead weird about her. The Shadow-Thing …’ With an evil grin, he made moving gestures with the tips of his fingers. Even Abigail had to agree. ‘She is a bit frightening. I’ve never seen her out in daylight, yet as soon as it’s dark she goes scurrying down the street, hiding in the corners like a little hobbit.’ Darren gave a snort of disgust. ‘If you ask me, she’s not all there. I reckon somebody should put her out of her misery.’ ‘You’re a callous bastard,’ Robin reprimanded him. ‘The poor woman’s obviously ill.’ ‘There you go then,’ Daz insisted. ‘Like I said … Loopy Lou! They should put her in a home, for all our sakes.’ ‘Ssh!’ Betsy was still listening; the woman’s voice was pure and powerful. ‘It’s her, I’m sure of it. It can’t be anybody else.’ Judith was cynical. ‘How could such a beautiful voice belong to such a strange-looking creature?’ Suddenly the singing came to an end and the silence was thick. ‘I was in the paper-shop the other day,’ Dave told them all, ‘and she came in after me for some batteries and a box of matches. When she spoke to Mr Hassan, the shopkeeper, her voice was so low it was almost inaudible.’ He shrugged, bemused. ‘She seemed very nervous and a bit dithery. When she came rushing by me, she dropped her box of matches. Of course I stooped to pick it up.’ He could see her now. ‘She seemed such a sorry little thing, all depressed-looking and dishevelled. But in that split second when she grabbed the matches from me, she looked up.’ His voice sank to a whisper, as though talking to himself. ‘She had the most amazing eyes … chestnut-brown they were, and yet against the paleness of her skin they seemed dark as night. It was strange. Even after she’d gone I couldn’t get her out of my mind.’ He added thoughtfully, ‘I swear, I’ve never seen anyone look so frightened.’ ‘Ooh, Dave!’ Grinning spitefully, Darren sat bolt upright. ‘You’re done for now! She probably thought you were onto her. You’d best be careful, mate. Sounds to me like she’s bewitched you already.’ ‘Oh, do shut up!’ Like everyone else, Abigail had long been curious about the old woman, but she had no time for Darren’s silliness. ‘I can’t help feeling sorry for her. I mean, what went wrong in her life, do you think?’ She looked around at her friends. ‘What could have happened to make her like she is, so terrified of people, and so paranoid about going out in daylight?’ For a while, they discussed their neighbour, until Robin suddenly remembered he had promised to call his father. ‘I’d best get down to the phone in the hall and give my dad a quick ring.’ ‘Make him wait, why don’t you?’ Having fallen out with his own family long ago, Darren bitterly resented those who stayed together. ‘He’s always giving you grief over wanting to be a doctor, instead of going into his poxy veterinary business. He made his choice and it’s time he let you make yours. For Chrissake, Rob! When will you stop running after him, like some frightened little kid!’ In the ensuing silence, all eyes were on Robin. A quiet guy, he was not easily roused into temper. But Darren’s words were harsh, and the tension almost palpable. Getting up, his face set like stone, Rob crossed to where Darren lay slouched in an armchair. ‘You’d best explain what you meant by that,’ he said, his voice low and trembling. Shocked to see the dark anger in Rob’s face, and like the coward he was, Darren swiftly withdrew his comment. ‘I didn’t mean anything,’ he replied curtly. ‘All I’m saying is, families aren’t what they’re cracked up to be. Look at me!’ He held out his arms triumphantly. ‘I had the good sense to dump my family long ago, and now I’m much better off without them.’ ‘Really?’ Robin regarded him with contempt. ‘Well, thankfully, you and I are very different. I would never turn my back on family. You see, the only family I have now is my father, and whatever the differences between us, I have no intention of ever dumping him. In fact, I love and respect him. Never a day goes by when I don’t thank my lucky stars that he’s around.’ His cold gaze was unswerving, ‘So tell me, Darren, do you have a problem with that?’ The other boy shook his head. ‘None whatsoever.’ ‘So, will we ever have this conversation again?’ ‘Not as far as I’m concerned, no.’ Shaken by this unexpected confrontation, Darren the bully wanted the incident ended. ‘You and your dad are none of my concern.’ ‘Glad to hear it. So now – if it’s all right with you – I’ll be about my business.’ Robin was almost out of the door when Betsy grabbed her denim jacket and went after him. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘I could do with a change of scene myself.’ Like the others, she had been appalled by Darren’s spiteful remarks. As always, Robin saw Betsy as a true friend. ‘I’d like that, yes. Let’s go down to the callbox on the corner. Get a breath of air.’ When the front door was shut behind them Betsy glanced back to see their neighbour’s curtains twitch. ‘She’s watching us again,’ the girl whispered with a smile. Deep in thought, they walked on. ‘Rob?’ ‘Mmm?’ ‘How do you really think she came to end up here, all alone and scared to go out?’ ‘It could have been any number of things,’ he mused. ‘The loss of someone she loved, a disastrous business venture that left her short of money and friends, or it could have been a family fall-out. Who can tell? Life has a way of kicking you in the teeth when you least expect it.’ Betsy’s curiosity was heightened. ‘You sound very bitter.’ ‘That’s because I am. But then I believe that whatever happens in life, and however devastated we are, we just have to make the best of what we’ve got and get on with it.’ Betsy sensed his sadness. ‘You never mention your mother,’ she ventured nervously. Robin did not answer. Instead, he cast his gaze to the ground and quickened his step. ‘I’m here if you want to talk about it,’ Betsy went on. He shook his head. ‘Some things are best left unsaid.’ Affectionately squeezing his arm, Betsy apologised. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’ ‘I know that,’ he replied. ‘Thanks for caring anyway.’ They continued walking down the street until they reached a low wall by an area of wasteland. ‘Let’s sit down for a moment,’ Robin said. A few moments later, much to Betsy’s surprise, he began to confide in her. ‘I was just a kid of six, when my mother was involved in a car accident.’ He paused and took a breath. Even now it was hard to talk about it. ‘It took them three hours to cut her out of the wreckage.’ He could recall every moment, of every tortuous day and night. ‘She was in a coma for weeks. In all that time, Dad and I never gave up hope, even though deep down, I think we knew she would never recover. One summer’s morning, she just slipped away …’ He cleared his throat. ‘They said she didn’t suffer, that she wouldn’t have known anything.’ He took a moment to collect his thoughts. ‘Afterwards, my dad changed beyond all recognition. He used to be always smiling and joking, the life and soul of the party. He adored my mother, and when she was gone, it was as if a big part of him went with her. He couldn’t seem to function any more … couldn’t work, didn’t sleep. For days he just wandered round the house in a trance.’ He grimaced. ‘Dad was well qualified. From an early age, he always loved animals; his one burning ambition was to have his own veterinary clinic. When he left college he became a junior assistant at the local vet’s … worked his way up, and now he has four reputable clinics across Bedfordshire.’ Betsy was impressed. ‘That’s quite an achievement,’ she said. ‘And were you never interested in joining him?’ Robin shook his head. ‘Before I started school, I’d go with him on his calls sometimes.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘It was all a bit scary and bloody.’ ‘But it didn’t put you off wanting to be a doctor?’ ‘No, just the opposite. It made me want to help ease pain and suffering … but in people, not animals. So, in one way, I suppose my ambitions were much the same as my dad’s. Although he can’t seem to grasp it that way.’ Looking down on Betsy, he went on in quieter tones, ‘At first – after the accident, I mean – the way it was, I began to think I’d lost both my parents.’ The girl was tempted to comment, to reassure him, but then she realised he needed to open the door which he had kept locked for too long, so she remained silent and let him speak. ‘I was just six years old. He was my dad but he didn’t even seem to know I was there.’ The boy’s memory of it was still vivid. ‘We never sat down to a meal any more. It was either curry or Chinese from the local take-aways, or beans on toast and Lyons individual fruit pies. He left me to my own devices for days on end. You see, he forgot that I, too, was desperately missing my mother.’ He still recalled the sense of helplessness and loss. The awful loneliness. ‘After a while, Dad went back to work. It was as if he went from one extreme to another. This time, he drove himself like a mad thing – with extra clinics, longer hours, home visits … anything so’s not to be in the house. I was only a kid, but I learned to fend for myself. I would get up, wash, dress and go off to school in the village, never knowing if he’d be there when I got back. Not knowing if he would ever come home!’ Robin gave a wry little smile. ‘I never told anyone how things were at home, so nobody bothered. I went to school and all I could think of was my dad, and … everything. One afternoon, my teacher came round and told Dad how I was falling badly behind in class; it made him realise how much he’d neglected me. After that, things were better. He talked to me, about my mother, and how much he missed her. He would hug me and cry, and tell me how sorry he was that he hadn’t been looking after me. But he never once asked me how I felt. Inside, I was crying too, but he couldn’t see that. He couldn’t see past his own grief.’ Betsy gently urged him on. ‘What was she like, your mother?’ He smiled, a soft, loving smile. ‘Best mother ever. She was caring and understanding. And small, much like you. She always knew what to say and when to say it. Oh, and she could be so funny. She made us all laugh with her silly jokes and made-up stories.’ His voice caught with emotion. ‘She was more than my mother. She was a special friend. I never felt lonely when she was around.’ 17,34 ₼ Janr və etiketlər Yaş həddi: 0+Litresdə buraxılış tarixi: 27 dekabr 2018Həcm: 385 səh. 10 illustrasiyalarISBN: 9780007283361Müəllif hüququ sahibi: HarperCollins |