A Liverpool Legacy by Anne Baker Page B

to imagine how she was going to manage when she went back to their flat. She didn’t expect to have any visitors in the evenings and felt very alone and uncomfortable at those times. She tried to read her book, it did interest her but it wasn’t enough to shut out the cooing of new fathers and the delighted chatter from all the other beds.
    But one night when visiting was already in full swing she looked up to see Peter Maynard advancing towards her bed with a great armful of big bronze chrysanthemums. Her heart turned over and she felt reduced to an emotional tangle of nerves.
    ‘I’ve come to see the new baby,’ he said, peering into the cot that swung on the foot of her bed. ‘Very pretty. I hear you’ve called her Sylvie.’ He put the flowers down on the end of her bed. ‘Mungo picked these for you from the greenhouse.’ He sounded like a fond father as he pulled out a chair to sit down. ‘How are you, Millie?’
    ‘I’m glad it’s over but thrilled with my baby. She’s lovely.’
    ‘You look surprisingly well. Nice rosy cheeks.’
    Millie’s cheeks were burning. She was blushing and knew it was bashfulness at his unexpected visit.
    ‘You must come back to my house when you’re discharged from here,’ he went on. ‘You’ll need to get your strength back and you’ll have this new baby to look after. Better if you have Hattie around to start you off.’
    His thoughtfulness brought the ever ready tears rushing to Millie’s eyes again. How many wakeful nights had she spent wondering how she’d manage when she went home to Wilbraham Street without any income. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to overstay my welcome with you,’ she choked. She couldn’t look at him.
    ‘Millie, you’ll never do that.’ Her hand was on the counterpane and he covered it with his. ‘You’re welcome to stay. The girls love having you. They talk of nothing else but your baby and they’re knitting bootees and bonnets for her.’
    The sister came to the ward door and rang a bell. ‘Time’s up, fathers, time to go.’
    Millie said, ‘You’re very kind. You’re all very kind.’
    He stood up and she felt him give her a fatherly peck on the cheek, then he paused to look down at her sleeping baby. ‘She’ll be a real beauty when she grows up, you mark my words.’
    ‘Thank you for coming.’ Millie thought she was being daring. ‘But aren’t you afraid you’ll be thought to be Sylvie’s father?’
    He laughed. ‘James, my brother, already believes I am, but everybody else knows that’s not the case. Hattie says to tell you she’ll come tomorrow.’
    Millie watched him join the stream of men who were leaving, and buried her face in the flowers he’d brought. He looked so much older than all the others, but he was wonderful, absolutely wonderful. She wished he was Sylvie’s father.
    She spent the next half hour imagining how marvellous it would be if she could rely on Peter Maynard’s support for ever. But real life wasn’t like that.

Chapter Five
    Peter Maynard drove home telling himself he was an old fool. He couldn’t get Millie out of his mind. How could she overstay her welcome? He’d feel bereft if she left. She was a fiercely proud girl and seemed not to expect anybody to give her anything.
    He’d been telling himself for weeks that he was not falling in love with her. What could be more ridiculous at his age? He’d thought he’d finished with all that when Esme died. For goodness sake, where was the sense in it when Millie was just eighteen? He was twenty-nine years older than she was, more than old enough to be her father.
    When the time came for Millie to be discharged from hospital, he took Helen with him when he went to collect her. He had to give her and everybody else the impression that his feelings for her were fatherly.
    Once back at the house, Millie found Helen and Valerie ever ready to pick up the baby to nurse and play with her. They’d brought down a cot they’d found in the attic and