The Hat Girl's Heartbreak

Lindsey Hutchinson

Description

Will it be tears or triumph for the Hat Girl from Silver Street?

It’s been five years since Ella Bancroft lost the love of her life, Harper Fortescue, and despite her friends’ encouragement, she’s still not been able to move on. The one thing keeping Ella smiling is the success of her hat shop, Ivella. Her beautiful designs and fabulous creations are the first choice for the fashionable Edwardian ladies of Walsall, and her fame is spreading far and wide.

Darcie Newland won’t ever forgive Ella for stealing her fiancé and ruining her life, even though Harper was never really hers in his heart. After being exiled by her parents to Scotland after yet another scandal, Darcie is now back in Birmingham and set on revenge.

As her hat shop flourishes, and the possibility of a new love appears when she least expects it, Ella finally dares to hope for a happy future. But storm clouds are gathering over the Black Country, and life might have other plans for the hat girl from Silver Street.

The Queen of the Black Country sagas is back with this page-turning story of friendship and fun, love and second chances. Perfect for fans of Val Wood and Lyn Andrews.

Praise for Lindsey Hutchinson:

‘I love Lindsey Hutchinson's stories, they always seem heartfelt and I can really identify with the characters as if I know them personally.’

‘Wow, what can I say about this book, brilliant from page one, thanks Lindsey Hutchinson!’

‘I absolutely loved the hat girl and pray there is a sequel to it. Such a wonderful story, full of love and trials. More please.’

‘Loved this book from page one , couldn't put it down , definitely recommend and it's five stars from me.’

Sujets

• Wholesome
• 20th Century
• Siblings
• Historical
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Midlands Occidentales
• Inglaterra
• Friendship
• Historical romance
• Sibling
• West Midlands
• Historical fiction
• Woman
• The Women
• City Life
• Clean
• Sagas
• Family Life
• Romance
• Warwickshire
• England
• Saga
• Midlands de l'Ouest
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 20 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781801626736
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE HAT GIRL’S HEARTBREAK


LINDSEY HUTCHINSON
For my friend Joyce Pryce, who passed away recently from dementia, and who always supported me in my writing. RIP my little mate.
CONTENTS




Author’s Note




Chapter 1



Chapter 2



Chapter 3



Chapter 4



Chapter 5



Chapter 6



Chapter 7



Chapter 8



Chapter 9



Chapter 10



Chapter 11



Chapter 12



Chapter 13



Chapter 14



Chapter 15



Chapter 16



Chapter 17



Chapter 18



Chapter 19



Chapter 20



Chapter 21



Chapter 22



Chapter 23



Chapter 24



Chapter 25



Chapter 26



Chapter 27



Chapter 28



Chapter 29



Chapter 30



Chapter 31



Chapter 32



Chapter 33



Chapter 34



Chapter 35



Chapter 36



Chapter 37



Chapter 38



Chapter 39



Chapter 40



Chapter 41



Chapter 42



Chapter 43



Chapter 44



Chapter 45



Chapter 46



Chapter 47



Chapter 48



Chapter 49



Chapter 50



Chapter 51



Chapter 52



Chapter 53




More from Lindsey Hutchinson



About the Author



Sixpence Stories



About Boldwood Books
AUTHOR’S NOTE

My previous book, The Hat Girl from Silver Street , was never meant to be a stand-alone book, so I hope those who have read it will enjoy this one. May it answer all of your questions.
1

‘You off to the cemetery again?’ Flossie Woolley asked as she sipped her tea.
Ella Bancroft nodded, the gold flecks in her hazel eyes shining.
‘You’m wasting your life away, gel. It’s been five years since your man passed and you should be moving on.’
‘I know, Flossie, but I don’t seem to be able to,’ Ella answered.
‘It’s maudlin, if you ask me, this visiting that bloody great monstrosity of a family mausoleum. It’s become a habit – one you should break, otherwise you’ll end up an old maid. Anyway, I need to get home and see how the Sunday dinner is doing. Tarrar a bit.’ With that, Flossie went next door to her own house, leaving Ella to think on what she’d said.
Ella’s mind replayed the moving pictures of her memories as it had so many times over the last years.
Harper Fortescue, taken in the prime of his life by tuberculosis, shortly before he and Ella were to be married. Again, she saw his chocolate-drop eyes and his black hair; heard his deep resonant voice. She felt the pain stab her chest just as hard as it had the day he died. Tears stung her eyes as she whispered, ‘How can I move on when I still love you, Harper?’
Trying to shake off the thought, Ella chose a hat from the latest creations she had finished at home and pinned it in place. Picking up her bag, parasol and the flowers she’d bought the day before in the market and kept in water overnight, she set out.
As she strolled along in the sunshine, she considered her neighbour’s words.
After Harper’s passing, Ella had thrown herself into her work as a milliner and gone into partnership with her previous employer and rival, Ivy Gladwin. Transforming Ivy’s hat shop, now called Ivella, they had built it up into a thriving business.
Ella continued to live in the two up, two down house in Silver Street, Walsall; a town in the middle of England, well known for its leather manufacturing. Saddles, bridles, buckles and chains were all made there and the King, Edward VII, still ordered his saddles from Walsall. Known as the town of one hundred trades, it also boasted limestone quarrying nearby.
The spring sun was warm on Ella’s shoulders and she was glad she had decided to wear a cotton blouse and lightweight skirt. She opened her parasol, revelling in the shade it afforded. Crossing the tramway and then the London and North West Railway, she came presently to the large cemetery. Following the gravel footpath, Ella looked at the many gravestones as she passed. I’ll be here one day , she thought.
Arriving at the mausoleum, she replaced the old flowers with the fresh ones in the little vase. The dead blooms she wrapped in the paper, ready to take to the nearest rubbish container.
Sitting on the grass, her parasol over her head, she chatted to Harper about the week just gone. Ella was not at all embarrassed at speaking out loud to the love she had lost; many visiting the graveyard did the same thing.
After a while, she rose, and blowing a kiss, she turned and walked away, the dead flowers in her hand.
Once home, Ella had a bite to eat before settling down to work. She’d had ideas about a new range of hats for the shop and hoped that Ivy would agree to them being placed in the window of Ivella.
Gone were the bonnets of the 1850s and also the small Victorian hats. Now it was the Edwardian era, and headgear for ladies had reverted to being large and somewhat fussy. Ivy was delighted, as this style was her forte – the more decoration the better, as far as she was concerned.
Ella held a large circle of straw over the old steam kettle her dad had rigged up for her and felt a stab of nostalgia. Slowly, the stiff straw softened and Ella gently began to bend the brim upwards. Reaching the boat shape she was after, she put it aside to cool and harden, the milk jug on one side and the sugar basin on the other so it would keep its shape. Sorting through her haberdashery, she chose two turquoise feathers which she pinned to one side of the hat, then taking up a piece of rose-coloured silk, she tied it into a large bow. Placing it at the base of the feathers, she sewed it all into place.
Pleased with her efforts, she then picked up a piece of pale blue crin, which she had already steamed into shape, and pinned a small silk rose on the side. Having made her decision, Ella settled to making more roses, which would encircle the wide turned-up brim.
When she was happy with the finished article, Ella stood and stretched out her back. She made herself a cup of tea and turned her thoughts to the next project. It was an order for a feathered hair band. Bending a piece of wire around a wooden block, she then bent the two ends outward slightly to prevent the band digging into the client’s head. Wrapping the whole wire in magenta embroidery thread, she secured the ends tightly. After stitching the small black veil in place, she put it aside to concentrate on the feathers. Having already dyed white goose feathers to a delicate pink with cochineal, Ella chose one and added a Lady Amherst pheasant feather, which she tied in place with cotton. Doing the same again with a guinea fowl feather and adding two burnt peacock spines, she slowly built up a bunch. Sewing them all together, she attached them to the headband. Black goose feathers were separated into little clumps which she curled over the steamer. Those were added in strategic places, then she attached goose feathers cut into a long line of diamond shapes.
Finally, her creation was placed onto a poupee, a wooden head-shaped block covered in padded linen. Bunches of feathers curled up and out, down over one end of the veil and along the headband. Ella smiled with satisfaction.
Now it was time to eat and rest. Ella bustled about the square kitchen, placing the kettle on the small range to boil. She crossed to lock the back door before glancing out of the window above the sink, where the stars shone brightly in the inky black sky. From a cupboard on the wall, she took out cheese, bread and pickles for her supper. Placing them on the table in the centre of the room, she then pushed the three chairs into place whilst she made tea. The fourth was missing, as this was where her father’s wheelchair had lived.
Once she had eaten and drunk her tea, Ella glanced at the finished articles on one side of the table and nodded. She was pleased with her efforts and tomorrow she would take everything she had made to the shop, where she would be given Ivy’s verdict.
Washing her plate and cup, Ella left them to drain and, dousing the light, she walked through the internal door into a small passage, off which lay the front room with a large window that looked out onto the street. The stairs led to two bedrooms. In her room, Ella poured water from the large jug into the bowl on the dresser and bathed her face and hands. She undressed and slipped on her nightgown before brushing her dark hair until it shone in the moonlight coming through the window. With a contented sigh, she climbed into bed and was soon asleep.
The following morning, Ella tied her hat boxes with string, leaving loops for handles before stepping out into the spring sunshine.
Walking the few streets to the shop, Ella returned the greetings of those she passed. Women out washing windows, children playing in the road, careless of the traffic of carts and wagons.
Ella’s attention was drawn up high to a circular brush poking out of a chimney before it disappeared again. The rag and bone man’s horse and cart made its way slowly along the street, the tatter calling out, ‘Any old rags?’
The Caldmore, pronounced Karmer, district had been alive since the early hours with men heading for their work. Others not fortunate enough to have a job carried fishing rods to the Walsall canal where they would spend the day in the hope of a bite. All they ever caught was an old boot or a discarded bicycle wheel, but at least they were away from their nagging wives for a while.
Ella smiled as she saw a young boy run from a ginnel, closely followed by his mother, yelling, ‘You cheeky young bugger, I’ll tan yer arse!’ In an instant, the child was gone. Turning to Ella, the woman said, ‘Kids today, what can you do with ’em?’ Without waiting for an answer, the woman retreated back down the alleyway.
Moving on, Ella smelled fresh bread emanating from the panniers of the baker’s horse. Although she had eaten, Ella’s mouth watered at the tantalising aroma. She stopped to buy a cott