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She tried to quell her misgivings. Eddie was entitled to his dreams. She'd found out long ago that they were the only thing that made the harsh reality of life on the Graig bearable. Since. she'd qualified, her fantasies of Florence Nightingale nursing had been replaced by hazy, formless desires that somehow encompassed Andrew John.
Haydn had hopes of a theatrical career that would sweep him from dogsbody in the Town Hall to success on the London stage. Her father dreamt of a workers' uprising that would revolutionise the face of the Valley. Maud had mapped out a future rags-to-riches plan for herself roughly based on the plot of Jane Eyre. The only problem with Eddie's dream was that it was easier to put into practice and far more dangerous than any of the others. But fear for Eddie's health and life gave her no right to stop him from trying. For all she knew he might be the lucky one: the next Jimmy Wilde to come out of the Valleys with enough talent to earn himself a slice of the good-life he craved for. .
And even if he was on a hiding to nothing, who was she to stop him? Better for him to hold on to his dream, no matter how hopeless than lose all hope for something beyond the grim reality of the present like their mother.