Read The Old House on the Corner Online
Authors: Maureen Lee
Queenie Todd is evacuated to a small town on the Welsh coast with two others when the war begins. At first, the girls have a wonderful time until something happens, so terrifying, that it will haunt them for the rest of their lives …
Victoria lives in the old house on the corner. When the land is sold, she finds herself surrounded by new properties. Soon Victoria is drawn into the lives of her neighbours – their loves, lies and secrets.
Cara and Sybil are both born in the same house on one rainy September night. Years later, at the outbreak of war, they are thrown together when they enlist and are stationed in Malta. It’s a time of live-changing repercussions for them both …
Kitty McCarthy wants a life less ordinary – she doesn’t want to get married and raise children in Liverpool like her sisters. An impetuous decision and a chance meeting twenty years later are to have momentous repercussions that will stay with her for ever …
Escaping their abusive home in Ireland, sisters Mollie and Annemarie head to Liverpool – and a ship bound for New York. But fate deals a cruel blow and they are separated. Soon, World War II looms – with surprising consequences for the sisters.
Amy Curran was sent to prison for killing her husband. Twenty years later, she’s released and reunited with her daughter, Pearl. But Amy is hiding a terrible secret – a tragedy that could tear the family apart …
Brodie Logan returns to Liverpool Bay, and lets out her spare rooms to women with nowhere else to go. Their lives intertwine and friendships develop but then tragedy strikes and the women find that nothing lasts forever …
MAUREEN LEE
7
JULY
2001
Victoria looked out of her bedroom window at the new estate where Macara Removals & Storage used to be. It was only a tiny estate, surrounded by a shiplap fence, and comprising just seven houses; two mock black-beamed Tudor detached with four bedrooms each, a pair of redbrick semis, and three small, double-fronted bungalows, neatly rendered and painted white, set around a communal, oval-shaped lawn with a freshly planted willow tree in the centre.
To her left, out of sight, there was a row of garages, one for each house. Victoria’s own house, more than a century older than its neighbours, was in a corner facing the road. The pretty garden was packed with sweet-smelling lavender, broom, and dazzling pink peonies, hidden behind a thick privet hedge. Golden ivy covered the walls and had curled itself around the chimneys.
At only half past six on a beautiful July morning – a Saturday – all the curtains were closed and there was no sign of life until two sparrows landed on the willow tree, madly fluttering their wings and making the lacy tendrils shiver delicately.
She had wondered how the builders would persuade people to buy properties crammed so closely together: no front gardens unless you counted the narrow strip of grass barely two feet wide, and not much behind either, but the new development had been christened Victoria
Square, giving it a posh, exclusive sort of air, and all had been sold long before the building work was finished. Six were occupied – one bungalow was empty and waiting for the new owners to move in. Three even had names; the detached ones were called Hamilton Lodge and Three Farthings, and one of the bungalows was Clematis Cottage – the tiny green shoots in tubs each side of the front door might well be baby clematis, Victoria couldn’t tell from this distance. The remaining four properties were, so far, unnamed and making do with numbers.