A Valley Wedding: Book 3 in the uplifting new Backshaw Moss series

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Aye, easy. I’ve lived in the valley all my life. There’s a dozen folk in Rivenshaw who’ve known me since we were childer together.’

My wife died two years ago, an’ I started drinking. I let myself get cheated out of what savings I didn’t spend on beer. I’d talk to anyone, buy them a drink rather than go home to an empty house. I missed my Susan that badly I could hardly think straight for the first few months.We’d been wed since we were eighteen, you see, courting since we were fourteen.’ At the hotel, the waiter glanced at Arthur and showed them to a table in the corner, away from the better-dressed folk. I’m not. It’s the simple truth. She left houses to three of her distant relatives who’d fallen on hard times, people she thought deserved a helping hand.’

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I’d recognise him by sight. Folk speak well of him.’ Arthur closed his eyes, murmuring, ‘I hope I don’t wake up and find this is all a dream.’ Mr Lloyd nodded. ‘Yes, and you know what he’s like. You’ll definitely need to be on your guard, Mr Chapman.’ He saw Biff’s pitying expression at this admission and added, ‘I made a vow after I stopped boozing to tell the truth After a searching gaze, the man said, ‘The poor sod definitely needs some good news, for a change. He’s the one in the corner by the fire.’

Lancashire, 1936. With her son Gabriel finally married, and her youngest following his dreams of becoming a doctor, Gwynneth Harte finds herself with an empty nest – until a fire forces her to move in with Gabriel and his wife Maisie at their home on Daisy Street.After a slight hesitation the man took it, read it and dropped it on the table. ‘Has she set a detective on me now?’ Tears came into Arthur’s eyes and he blinked furiously. ‘I don’t deserve anything. I’ve made a mess of my life in the past two years.Yes, a right old mess, and all my own fault.’ Their meal was served and Arthur proved how hungry he’d been by clearing his plate rapidly. He looked across the table apologetically as he laid down his knife and fork, because Biff’s plate was still half full. ‘Sorry for my poor table manners. I were famished.’ Lancashire, 1936.With her son Gabriel finally married, and her youngest following his dreams of becoming a doctor, Gwynneth Harte finds herself with an empty nest - until a fire forces her to move in with Gabriel and his wife Maisie at their home on Daisy Street. Miss Chapman said those houses weren’t to be opened up again until the heirs had been found, just kept weatherproof. So I’m no wiser about the contents than you are.’