JOSEPHINE COX

Journey’s End

COPYRIGHT

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollinsPublishers 2006

Copyright © Josephine Cox 2006

Josephine Cox asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

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EBook Edition © MARCH 2012 ISBN 9780007369690

Version: 2017-08-10

PRAISE

Once in a while we are blessed with the friendship and love of someone who is uniquely special. When I was an infant and my mother gave birth to her fifth baby boy, I loved him from the moment I saw him; as we all did. She named him William, but he was always known to us as Billy.

Small and sturdy, with the funniest, most mischievous little smile, he was a rascal from the start. He grew up to be a fine man, with high principles and a fierce passion for family. He was at times infuriating, aggravating, bossy, but immensely lovable. He was our Billy, one of us and we all respected and loved him, without reservation.

A short time ago we celebrated his sixtieth birthday; it was a wonderful evening, with everyone there and our Billy in the midst of it all, laughing, teasing, innocently flirting, showing off his beloved grandchildren and happy to be with family and friends.

A short time later, he fell ill and, with very little warning, was all too quickly gone from us. With the memories of his birthday party still strong in our minds, we found ourselves mourning the loss of a much loved and very precious man.

God bless you, Billy boy, and keep you safe until we meet again. We’ll talk about you and love you, and keep you proud in our hearts.

Most of all, we’ll miss you desperately, our one and only Billy. There will never again be anyone like you.

DEDICATION

This book is for my Ken as always

CONTENTS

COVER

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

PRAISE

DEDICATION

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

PART TWO

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

PART THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PART FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

OTHER WORKS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHATTERBOX

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

Part 1

Late March, 1954

The Telling

Salford, Bedfordshire

Chapter 1

SHE WOKE WITH a cry. It was the same dream as before – the same place, the same faces, the same jolt of terror; real in her dream, real in her life. Would it never leave her be?

The sweat dripping down her temples and her whole body trembling, she clambered out of bed and went to the window, where for a moment she stood, regaining her composure, collecting her senses.

Drawing back the curtains, she peered into the darkness, thick and impenetrable, like the deepest recesses of her mind. Dismissing the nightmare, she returned to the question that tormented her.

Should she tell? Would it destroy lives and minds? Would they hate her or, as she desperately hoped, would they thank her? But then, why would they thank her when the news she had to reveal was so unbearably cruel?

‘Dear God, give me the courage to do what’s right,’ she prayed.

Maybe it would be better if the truth was never told. Yet that would be the coward’s way out, and she might be many things, but Lucy Baker was no coward.

She glanced at the clock; it was five minutes past three – another day beginning. Taking her robe from the back of the chair, she slipped into it and sat on the edge of the bed, where she remained for a time. She sighed, a long, broken sigh. ‘Oh, my dearest Barney, my joy, my life.’ There was a murmuring of guilt, but never regret. ‘I loved you then, and I love you still.’

Barney had been her only true love, and it was a love all-consuming, all-powerful. There was no way to describe how much she missed him. No words. Only memories.

The smile slipped away and in its place came a look of hatred.

While Barney had brought her joy, Edward Trent had brought her tragedy.

‘Edward Trent … monster!’ Her mouth curled with loathing, she spat out his name as though it was tainted with poison. His wickedness had caused such pain; she would carry the burden of it for the rest of her days.

Lucy was no stranger to nightmares. A thousand times, she had awoken terrified and sobbing, reliving the night when Edward Trent had kidnapped her little son Jamie, and caused him to drown.

In the sorrowful years that followed, Trent had haunted her every waking and sleeping hour. In the daytime she would be in the middle of a mundane task, like washing the dishes or drawing the curtains, and suddenly he was gnawing at her mind until she could hardly think straight. Then at night came the dreams which left her breathless and shaking. Eventually, over the past twenty and more years, she had grown used to them. Like the hatred, they had become part of her life.

In the dreams it was always the same: the darkness, the water, and the chase … that unforgettable chase, ending in such horror.

This time though, the dream had been different. There was no frantic chase, no rushing water as it tumbled downstream, tugging at her ankles and throwing her off-balance; there wasn’t even the soul-wrenching sound of her child crying. This dream was like nothing she had ever experienced.

She had seen only his face, that swarthy, handsome face, his mouth frozen in an easy smile. Unlike before, he was not threatening her, nor was he reaching out. There was only the smile. And those mesmerising eyes, utterly chilling. And the silence – eerie, absolute.

‘Take a hold of yourself, Lucy,’ she said aloud. Grabbing the crumpled corner of the bedsheet, she wiped the sweat from her face. ‘It was just a dream. He can’t hurt you any more.’ So many times she had tried to convince herself of that. Even so, the fear never went away.

It never would.

In the adjoining room, in that lazy space between sleeping and waking, Mary lay in her bed and listened. She heard her mother open the curtains, and she heard her muffled footsteps as they paced the floor. The young woman did not attempt to go in: she knew that Lucy would not want that. Instead, for the next hour, she lay waiting, the only sound the ticking of the clock.

This was not the first time she had heard her mother agitated, unable to sleep. The first time was many years ago, when she was just an infant. The sound of Lucy sobbing had disturbed her deeply. In her childish manner, Mary had gone to comfort her, but her mother sent her away. Since then, whenever she heard her mother weeping in the night, Mary would keep vigil, desperately hoping it would not be too long before her mother went back to sleep; as she always did.

Mary had known there was some secret torment in her mother’s past; some fearful thing that touched all of their lives in some way – herself, her mother, and Adam, that dear kind man who had always been there to protect them.

Only recently, Adam had taken it upon himself to tell the truth of what happened all those years ago. In the telling, he had betrayed Lucy’s trust and broken his vow to his old friend Barney. At the time he believed it was for the best. Now, he was not so sure.

Mary was shaken to her roots by the story he told. Even now it was not ended. There were others who had to know: the ones who had gone away; the ones who had never known the truth of Barney Davidson’s sacrifice.

In Mary’s far-off memories, she recalled her father, Barney, who had died when she was a tiny girl. He had been a special kind of man, frail in body but powerful in spirit. She recalled how he would sit her on his knee and create magic through his vivid fairytales; he made her laugh with his comical mimicry, and sometimes when she woke crying, he would hold her up to the window and show her the stars and describe the beauty and wonder of the world they lived in. He told her she must never be afraid, because there would always be someone looking over her.

She loved him so much, and then he was gone, and their lives were never the same again.

When she was satisfied that her mother had gone back to sleep, Mary turned over and relaxed. Tomorrow, there would be no mention of this night. Mother and daughter would smile and chat, and talk of everything else, and it would be as though the nightmare had never happened. Because that was how Lucy wanted it.

Chapter 2

BY HALF PAST eight, Lucy was out of her bed, washed and dressed and sprucing herself in the mirror. ‘Not bad for an old ’un, if I say so myself!’ Laying down the hairbrush, she ran her two hands through her short cap of greying hair, teased out a few stray curls and thought how, if it wasn’t for the occasional lapse of memory and the age spots on the back of her hands, she could maybe pass for a young thing of fifty.

Sighing wistfully, she shook her head. ‘Wish all you like, my girl,’ she chided herself. ‘It won’t change the fact that you’re past your prime, so stop fancying yourself in the mirror. Before you know it, the doctor will be here,’ she frowned, ‘not that you need him, because you don’t – but it makes him feel wanted, so shift yourself, and be quick about it.’

She observed her image in the mirror. She did her best to keep what was left of her looks, but had not yet regained her strength since stumbling in the local churchyard a couple of years ago. The incident seemed to have sparked off a form of arthritis, but this was what you expected, wasn’t it, at her age. You had to slow down, whether you wanted to, or not.

She gazed critically on herself; the skin was not as glowing as it used to be, and there appeared to be more of it which hung in little loose swathes round her neck, and there were lines round her eyes and mouth. But the small straight nose and heart-shaped face were still pretty, and the blue eyes as bright as ever. She had never been a beauty, that much was true, but she’d been better off than most women because, even though it was for a cruelly short time, she had had the love of a man like Barney Davidson.

Thoughts of her beloved overwhelmed her. She knew that Barney had never loved her as he had loved his wife, Vicky. In the end, Lucy may have filled his heart, but it was only ever Vicky who filled his soul.

Lifting the photograph from the dresser, she gazed down on herself and Barney, and the infant girl in his arms. It was a cherished picture, taken only a few months before Barney was lost to her, and even then, when the illness ravaged him, the goodness of the man, and his absolute joy of life shone out of his face – still a handsome face for all that.

Lucy choked back a sob. They had had so little time together, yet she thanked God for every second. They had shared everything – the anguish of seeing his wife and children leave him; the guilt and tears afterwards; the companionship between him and Lucy that grew into a kind of loving contentment, then the sheer joy and pride when Mary was born to them.

Through all the ups and downs of every passing day, they never forgot the others: Leonard Maitland, a man who had gone away knowing the truth, even though it meant he would never again have peace of mind, and Vicky and the children who had sailed with him, estranged from Barney and in total ignorance of the price he had paid for their new lives in America.

Lucy recalled the day when they left. ‘There was no other way, Barney,’ she murmured now. ‘No other way …’

The loud spluttering of a car engine brought her hurrying to the window. ‘Adam!’ The brightness of a spring day was startling, and the skies above were blue and cloudless. For late March, it was unusually warm. ‘Adam, what’s going on?’ she called down.

Covered in muck and oil, Adam was standing before the car in the drive of Knudsden House. He had the bonnet up and the starter-handle lodged into position.

‘The damned thing’s been playing up again,’ he called back, ‘and now it’s completely given up the ghost. I’ve done what I can, but I reckon she’ll need a new engine.’ Diving his head under the bonnet again, he fiddled with a few nuts and bolts, before returning to swing the handle for the umpteenth time. There was a shuddering and a spluttering, and a shout of victory when he thought he’d done the trick, but then the engine fell silent again. ‘It’s no good.’ Defeated, he gave a shake of the head. ‘There’s no spark at all now.’

Lucy shouted down: ‘Leave it! Come inside … Come on.’

His heart warmed by the invitation, Adam waved up to her. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

Closing the window, Lucy smiled to herself. No spark, eh? She hoped the day never came when they said that about her! Life might be a bit more of a challenge these days and her health was not as robust as she would have liked, but by God, she wasn’t done yet. Not by any means!

By the time Adam showed his face at the kitchen door, both Lucy and Mary were seated at the table, Lucy enjoying her eggs and bacon, and Mary toying with her scrambled eggs. ‘Look at the state of you!’ Pointing to Adam’s mucky face and hands, Lucy asked him sternly: ‘Have you had your breakfast?’

‘Not yet, no.’ Because the car had been playing up the previous day, he’d got out of his bed early this morning to work on the engine. ‘There was no time for breakfast,’ he explained. ‘Two hours I messed about with that blessed machine this morning.’ He groaned. ‘I honestly thought I’d fixed it!’

Lucy felt as though she had known him forever. A loyal friend to them both, Adam Chives had been part of her life with Barney, and after Barney was gone, he had seen her through a bad time and remained ever close. Lucy had often wondered why he never married, until some time ago he confessed to her that she had always been the only woman he had ever truly loved.

Time and again Adam had asked her to be his wife and time and again she had gently refused. But knowing how persistent he was, Lucy was in no doubt that some time in the not too distant future, he was bound to try again.

Taking a gulp of her tea, Lucy discreetly regarded him. Homely, well-built, with thick greying hair and kind expressive eyes, Adam was an ordinary kind of man, but with an extraordinary sense of loyalty. When he made a friend it was a friend for life and when he fell in love, it was with heart and soul.

Over the years, Lucy had prayed that he might find a woman who would bring him the happiness he deserved; though in the beginning she had never believed it was herself he needed.

When some years ago, she expressed her hope that he might find a good woman to share his life, he told her he wanted no other wife but her. And that he would always be there for her as long as she needed him.

His confession had touched Lucy deeply.

‘Right then, if you go and wash up,’ she told him now, ‘I’ll see to your breakfast.’

‘Thank you, Lucy, but no thanks!’ Hungry though he was, he didn’t want her fussing over him. ‘I don’t like to put you to any trouble, especially when you’ve got the doctor coming this morning.’

Brushing aside his protests, Lucy took another long gulp of her tea, before pushing back her chair and standing up. ‘Breakfast will be ready when you are,’ she assured him. ‘And don’t worry about the doctor. I can handle him.’ She laughed. ‘He seems a bit nervous of me. No sooner is he in the door than he’s itching to get out again.’

‘I’m not surprised. Poor devil!’ Adam chuckled. ‘I’ve seen how you boss him about.’

‘Only when he tries to tell me what to do!’ she retorted. ‘I know I’m not as young and foolhardy as I once was; my bones ache like the devil and there are times when I want to run and can only shuffle. Some days it’s like going through a fog … one minute it’s clear as a bell and I can go forward, then the next I can’t find an easy way and have to slow down.’

She smiled into his eyes. ‘So you see, Adam, the bad times come and go, but I’m not bedridden yet, thank God. If I’m tired I rest, and if I feel all right I’ll do whatever I please.’ She gave a wry little smile. ‘Either way, I expect I’ll pop my clogs soon enough.’

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Adam gave a boot-deep sigh. ‘You can’t be serious for one minute, can you? Whatever will we do with you, eh?’ He knew what he’d like to do. He’d like to sweep her into his arms and carry her off. But you didn’t do that with Lucy. She was stubborn and a law unto herself. But that was the nature of her, and he would not have it any other way.

‘And don’t leave the sink with a rim of oil round it neither!’ Lucy’s voice sailed across the kitchen.

‘Right, boss.’ Bowing slightly, Adam gave a mock-servile tug of his forelock. ‘I’ll make sure I leave it ready for inspection.’

Having put the plug in the sink and taken the kettle from the hob, he began pouring the warm water into an enamel bowl. Looking over his shoulder with a cheeky wink, he made Lucy smile.

Through all this good-natured banter, Mary had remained silent, but now she told Adam, ‘Best do as you’re told. You know she’ll examine your hands back and front before you’re allowed to sit down – oh, and don’t forget to wash behind your ears, or you’ll be made to stand in the corner.’

Lucy wagged a finger. ‘Behave yourself, young lady. I may be getting on a bit, and you a grown woman now, but I’m still capable of clipping your ear.’

Mary chuckled. ‘I’m sure you are!’

At the sink, Adam took a moment to think. Getting on a bit? In his mind’s eye he could see Lucy Baker, as she then was, as a young woman running barefoot across the fields, her long flowing locks lifted by the breeze, and on her face a smile bright and warm as a sunny morning. Sometimes, before the world was wide awake, when he was out walking across the headlands, he would see her by the river, seated on a fallen log with her feet dipped into the water. He had loved her then and knew how, for the remainder of his life, he would never love another woman. What he felt for Lucy was a love that would endure forever.

‘Nay, you’re far too full of yourself to ever get old,’ he said cheekily.

‘Well, thank you, Adam,’ Lucy replied. ‘I shall take that as a back-handed compliment, shall I – though I think you are seeing me through rose-coloured spectacles.’ Something in his voice and the look in his eyes told Lucy that he might be ready to ask her again if she would marry him, and just for the briefest moment, her heart seemed to turn over.

‘They say beautiful women never really know they’re beautiful,’ he added softly. ‘I reckon that’s true where you’re concerned.’

‘Get away with you, you old flatterer!’ Strangely embarrassed, she took a forkful of leftover egg and popped it into her mouth, and astonished Mary by blushing bright pink.

Graciously refusing Mary’s offer to cook Adam’s breakfast instead, Lucy threw two more rashers of bacon and some mushrooms into the pan. In no time at all, they were sizzling away.

A few moments later, having finished washing at the sink and making sure he’d wiped it round afterwards, Adam seated himself at the table, where his breakfast was put in front of him. ‘Cor! Look at that – a real feast.’ He hadn’t realised how truly hungry he was until the aroma of hot food flooded his nostrils.

‘Thank you, Lucy.’ He turned to Mary with a wink. ‘Your mother’s not only beautiful, she’s a good cook into the bargain.’

Lucy thought one fine compliment was enough in a day. ‘Food is for eating,’ she said, placing a platter of toast before him. ‘So stop chatting and get it down you, before it goes cold.’

Smiling to herself at the way these two seemed to fit together like a hand in a glove, Mary was already getting out of her chair. ‘I’ll make some fresh tea.’ She knew how much Adam loved her mother, and she also suspected that, although she didn’t yet realise it, her mother had come to love him back.

Leaving them to talk, she took her time making the tea, while occasionally glancing at the two of them, now deep in conversation and looking for all the world like any other husband and wife; though they were neither of them ordinary. They were special, at least to her.

A short time later, having set them up with a fresh pot of tea, Mary excused herself. ‘Ben will be here soon,’ she explained. ‘We’re going into Shefford to look at a new tractor.’

‘A new tractor, eh?’ Lucy was delighted at how her daughter’s friendship with Ben Morris, the owner of Far Crest Farm, had grown into a close and loving relationship. It had been her dearest wish for Mary to find a man who cared deeply for her, and she truly believed Ben to be that man.

‘Talk of the devil, here he is now.’ Adam looked out of the window and drew their attention to the dark-haired, good-looking man on his way up the drive; with his tall capable build and long, easy strides, he looked like a man who could handle whatever obstacles life put in his way.

A few years ago, emotionally and mentally drained by the break-up of his marriage, Ben had decided to uproot himself and build a whole new way of life. It was not an easy decision, but when he eventually moved to the area of South Bedfordshire, he kept in close touch with his only child, Abbie, who had a secretarial job in London and shared a flat there with friends.

On first arriving in Salford, Ben, a former architect knew next to nothing about farming. But thanks to his practical nature, and learning as he went, he now had a comfortable income and a way of life he couldn’t have possibly ever imagined. And he had never been happier.

After the trauma and deceit that caused the end of his marriage to Pauline, he had not wanted another deep relationship. But then he met Lucy’s daughter, Mary, and had soon come to realise that not all women were the same. Where his wife had been dominant and deceitful, Mary was kind and caring; though she did have a fiery side. Last summer while they were strolling across the fields, they saw a man kicking his dog, and before Ben could intervene, Mary had snatched the dog away and confronted the man with a passion.

This incident had only served to convince Ben that he was a fortunate man, because here was a woman he could trust and respect. And he had come to love her so much, it frightened him.

‘BEN!’ Knocking on the window, Adam hoped to catch his attention, but the younger man was already out of earshot. ‘Don’t you two go running off before I’ve had a chance to see him,’ he said to Mary as she hurried from the room, ‘I want to ask the lad if he’ll have a look at the car. There’s nothing I don’t know about tractors, but I’m jiggered if I can fathom out what’s wrong with this blessed car!’

He frowned. ‘It starts then it dies away, coughing and spluttering. Ben knows his way round engines. With a bit of luck, he’ll be able to make more sense out of that damned vehicle than I can.’

‘Hey!’ Lucy’s voice followed them. ‘That’s quite enough of that cursing, if you don’t mind.’

Half-turning, Adam gave another tug of his forelock. ‘Sorry, boss,’ he said nervously. ‘I’ll not do it again.’

Chuckling heartily, Lucy returned to her tea.

A few minutes later, when she started to clear away, a feeling of total exhaustion overwhelmed her. Sudden pains shot down the back of her neck, and her spine felt as though it was being squeezed. This had happened before; thankfully, the attack always passed, though lately the passing seemed to take longer.

Resting a moment to recover, she rolled up her sleeves and was soon up to the elbows in hot sudsy water. It was a hard thing to come to terms with, growing old, and she resented the years rolling away behind her. Life was too short, and love too fleeting.

She thought of Barney wistfully. She would never again hold his hand or experience that wonderful surge of joy as he slid his arm around her when she least expected it. Life could be so cruel. But she had Mary, and so she still had a part of Barney in her life.

Looking out of the window, she saw how content her daughter was. She saw Mary helping Ben off with his jacket, and she witnessed the way they briefly touched and held hands before he leaned into the car engine. They belonged together, Lucy had known that from the first minute she saw them together in St Andrew’s churchyard all those months ago. That was why she had deliberately dropped her handbag there for Ben to find. When returning it to Lucy at her home, Knudsden House, he had met Mary again, and their romance had begun on that long, fateful night. And neither of them had ever suspected her part in it!

Ben reminded Lucy so much of Barney – oh, not in his physique, for Ben was taller and bigger-built than Barney and their colouring was different. But the essence of the man was the same; they each had a certain commanding presence. They smiled with their eyes and had that same kind of trustworthy, open nature.

Lucy’s heart swelled with love as she gazed fondly on her daughter. Mary would never know how thankful she was that the girl had found someone she truly loved, and who loved her back in the same way.

She couldn’t help but compare Mary and her sweetheart, to herself and Barney. She had loved her father in the same way the girl loved her Ben, deeply and without reservation.

She could see it all in her mind’s eye – herself, Barney and Vicky, his true wife, soulmate, and the mother of his three other children. It was a devilish triangle, destined to torment them all, and Barney the unwilling centrepiece of a cruel game that no one could ever win.

She had often wondered what she could have done to save them all so much pain, and the answer was always the same: there was nothing. She could not have prevented what happened, at least not without hurting Barney, and she loved him so much she would gladly have died for him. God help her, she loved him still with every fibre of her being.

Her eyes swam with sadness as she followed Mary’s every move. Oh, I don’t fool myself, she thought, because even though for a glorious time we were together and you, my darling, were conceived out of love, your father was never really mine.

Barney had loved her, in his own way, but it was Vicky of whom he dreamed. Even after he had sent her away, she filled his heart and soul. Lucy had always understood: Barney and Vicky were made for each other, and Lucy could never take the other woman’s place, nor would she want to. Vicky had been his first and only love … just as you were mine, she thought.

Chapter 3

AS LUCY CARRIED on rinsing the pots, dreaming quietly to herself, she heard Mary call out a greeting to someone. Lucy raised her gaze to see a familiar figure approaching up the path. ‘Elsie!’ Lucy was not expecting her so early.

Quickly now, she wiped her arms and rolled down her sleeves, and backing away from the sink, she sat at the table, for all the world as though she had been there all along.

As was her way, Elsie Langton burst in through the door like a wayward wind, her sharp eyes going straight to the sink, half-filled with sudsy water and the few plates resting on the wooden draining-board alongside.

‘What’s all this then?’ she demanded, indignantly folding her arms. ‘You’ve been washing up again, haven’t yer? For heaven’s sakes, can you never do as you’re told and take it easy? What’s more, I’d be obliged if you would stop doing my work. One fine day I’ll come through that door and there you’ll be, waiting with my pay packet and a “cheerio, how’s yer father but I don’t need yer any more”. Then what will I do, eh? Tell me that if yer please!’

Lucy tutted impatiently. ‘Don’t talk so much nonsense, woman.’ Clambering out of her chair, she confronted the little person with a sense of outrage. ‘Anyway, who’s in charge round here, you tell me that.’

As the bantering continued, Mary stood by the door, quietly amused. There was no harm in these fiery exchanges, she knew that. Her mother valued Elsie as part of the family. And as for the little woman herself, she was hardworking, funny and lovable, and totally devoted to Lucy; but when she had a bee in her bonnet she could be a real terrier.

‘Out with it,’ Elsie demanded grimly. ‘What else have yer been up to? Sweeping the yard, taking down the curtains – what?’

With a measure of dignity, Lucy stood her ground. ‘Just listen to yourself. You above all people should know I’m past doing those kind of things. Anyway, what if I had done everything you claim? It’s my right. It’s my house, isn’t it?’

Exasperated, Elsie waggled her fat little head from side to side, which in turn wobbled the fat little shoulders. ‘It’s no use yer arguing with me,’ she retorted. ‘You had strict orders from the doctor … “gentle exercise and the occasional walk, as long as it’s not too far”, isn’t that what the man said?’

Lucy glared at her. ‘Good God, you make me sound like some poor old dog that needs to be put down!’

‘Dearie, dearie me!’ Elsie had a way of making you feel guilty even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. ‘If yer don’t mind me saying, it’s you that’s talking nonsense now. My only concern is that you keep strong and healthy. I don’t want to see you standing at the sink to wash the dishes, or turning the mattress, like you did the other day. And if I hadn’t arrived in time when you were struggling to get the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard under the stairs, like as not you’d have broke a limb. And only yesterday I caught you cleaning out the pantry. God give me strength, you’re always meddling in places where you’ve no right to be. Cleaning, fetching and carrying is what I’m here for.’

When again she shook her head, her chubby little chops shivered with irritation. ‘It’s why yer pay me, for goodness’ sake!’

They both looked up as Mary stepped forward from the doorway. ‘I’ll make us a fresh pot of tea, shall I?’ she suggested tactfully. ‘That’s if nobody has any objections?’ Rona, Elsie’s daughter, worked alongside Mary in her flower-shop in Leighton Buzzard, and the two young women were fast friends. She’d be sure to report the latest exchange to her!

Grateful for the intervention, Lucy gave a warm smile. ‘Thank you, dear, that would be nice.’

But Elsie’s feathers were still ruffled. ‘I’ll have two sugars in mine,’ she snapped, ‘and just a whisper of milk, if yer please. There’s some Garibaldi biscuits in that tin. We’re keeping the homemade ones for Doctor Nolan.’ With that she took off her coat and hat and hung them up. ‘Meanwhile, I’d best make a start on cleaning the winders … before somebody we all know takes a mind to do it herself!’ With that she threw Lucy a withering glance and departed.

Lucy was left chuckling. ‘Anybody would think I interfered with her daily routine.’

Mary turned with a wry little smile. ‘You do.’

‘Well, maybe I do, but I’m frightened that if I stop doing things, I might seize up altogether. Don’t you know how hard it is for me to be still?’

‘I think I know that more than anybody. Don’t forget, I’m the one who has to live with you.’

‘Do you think I should apologise to Elsie? She’s such a treasure.’

‘It wouldn’t do any good if you did.’

‘Why not?’ Lucy had not expected an answer like that.

Coming to the table, Mary set the tray down. ‘Because the pair of you will only be going at it hammer and tongs again tomorrow.’

Taken aback, Lucy stared up at Mary open-mouthed. ‘Are we really that bad?’

‘Worse!’

When the laughter carried outside to the men, they stopped work to look towards the kitchen. ‘Something’s tickled their funny-bones,’ Ben remarked with a grin.

‘Sounds like it,’ Adam agreed; the merry laughter was infectious.

‘That should do it.’ Laying down the spanner, Ben asked Adam to start the car, and when it spluttered into life and seemed to run smoother than before, the older man gave a sigh of relief. ‘Don’t know how to thank you,’ he said, and Ben told him he was only too pleased to have been able to help.

‘I’d best get cleaned up, and take Mary to approve my new tractor.’ Ben smiled at the prospect. ‘After that, we’ve got the whole day to please ourselves what we do.’

Adam saw the gleam in Ben’s eye and his heart warmed. ‘You really love her, don’t you?’

Ben’s answer was instant and sincere. ‘Like I’ve never loved anyone in my life,’ he said. ‘I can’t recall what my life was like before she came along, and now I can’t imagine a day without her.’

Suddenly, Mary was making her way towards them. Upstairs, hanging out of the window with her cloth, Elsie was shouting down to her, ‘What were you two laughing about, eh?’

‘It’s Mum. You know what she’s like.’ Mary was still chuckling. ‘She was saying how she’d best teach you your place, because you’re getting too big for your boots.’

‘Huh! It’s the other way round, more like!’

When, a moment later, Elsie saw the doctor getting out of his car, she dropped her cloth into the bucket, ran to the landing and called down to Lucy, who quickly made her way upstairs, brushed her hair and sat nervously on the edge of the bed, waiting to greet him.

Though deep down she knew it was unfair, Lucy harboured a certain distrust of doctors. It had started when Barney fell ill and they could do nothing to help him. To Lucy’s mind, doctors were all the same – authoritative and full of good advice, but as yet they had not managed to instil any degree of confidence in her. There was one exception and that was Dr Raymond Lucas, from her old home outside Liverpool. He had been a true and trusted friend, and even now Lucy valued his letters and friendship.

Interrupting her thoughts, the knock sounded on the door for the second time. ‘Come in.’ Like a rebellious child, Lucy remained seated.

The door inched open and a smiling face peeped in at her; with his cheeky grin and that ridiculous cap of thick brown hair, the doctor looked far younger than his early thirties. ‘Am I all right to come in?’ he asked gingerly. ‘Or am I likely to get my head chopped off at dawn?’ He knew Lucy well by now, and was aware that his visits were unpopular.

Lucy laughed and the atmosphere eased. ‘I’m not that much of an ogre, am I?’ she asked, shame-facedly.

‘There are those who might argue the point.’ Straightening his shoulders, he pushed open the door and sauntered in.

Lucy asked him pointedly, ‘You’re not about to put me through the grinder, are you?’

He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll do whatever’s necessary to satisfy myself that you haven’t been overdoing it.’ He peeked at her with suspicion. ‘And have you?’

‘What?’

‘Been overdoing it?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Lucy hoped he would leave before coming into contact with Elsie, who was certain to have her say on the matter.

‘Mmm.’ Slowly nodding his head, he made that peculiar sound that some doctors make when they’re not quite sure what to say. ‘Mmm … ah.’

‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

‘I don’t know what to think.’ He ventured forward. ‘And if I don’t believe you, it’s no one’s fault but your own.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean, I need you to be honest, but sometimes you tell me one thing and do another. How am I supposed to know if you’re following my instructions when you won’t tell me the truth?’

‘Huh!’ Lucy couldn’t help but like him. ‘So now I’m a liar, am I?’

Fearing he might have got on the wrong side of her, he suggested meekly, ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, that is not what I meant at all. Perhaps we should forget the conversation so far and start again, what do you think?’

Lucy smiled her sweetest. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’

With a twinkle in his eye, he made the smallest bow and to Lucy’s amusement, greeted her with a bright, ‘Good morning, Mrs Davidson.’

‘Good morning, Doctor Nolan.’ Bright as a button, Lucy’s quick smile betrayed her enjoyment. ‘How very nice to see you,’ she lied beautifully.

Placing the big black bag on the bedside table, Dr Nolan opened it and took out his stethoscope. ‘And how are you today?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Doctor.’ Unbuttoning the top of her blouse, Lucy prepared herself for the shock of the cold stethoscope against her skin.

‘Have you anything to report?’ he asked gently.

‘No, nothing.’ Sensing the game was over she replied in serious tone, ‘Everything is just the same as it was the last time you were here.’ She was determined not to reveal how her arm still hurt like the devil after trying to shift that heavy cleaner out of the cupboard, for which Elsie had rightfully given her a scolding.

‘So, no aches or pains then?’ He proceeded to examine her, discreetly ignoring Lucy’s visible shudder as the cold receptacle pressed against the flat of her chest.

Lucy shook her head. ‘No more than usual,’ she answered. ‘There are times when my joints feel as though they’ve locked together, and other times when I feel I can carry the world.’

‘No change there then?’ he said, concentrating now on the job in hand of checking her blood pressure.

‘Not really, no.’ She laughed out loud. ‘I was flattered this morning when Elsie accused me of being ambitious enough to take down curtains, and clean all the windows.’ She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Those days are long gone, more’s the pity.’

Lucy remembered the time when she could throw a pitchfork of hay on top of a wagon, or carry an injured lamb on her shoulders, but that was in another life. If she could bring it all back, she would. But it was gone, all but in her sorry heart.

A few moments later, after a thorough examination, the doctor put away his instruments and closed the bag. ‘It seems you’re no better and no worse, so you must be following my instructions after all.’

Lucy smiled triumphantly. ‘Isn’t that what I told you, Doctor?’

‘So it is,’ he replied. ‘So it is – but you need to remember you’re not the young woman you once were and your joints aren’t quite so flexible. I’m not saying you can’t do certain things – of course you can – but you must take care not to aggravate your condition. And that includes getting all hot and bothered about things.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Good.’ He wrote out a prescription. ‘Your blood pressure is slightly up. Take one of these each morning, and an hour’s rest in the afternoon. Right?’

‘Whatever you say. You’re the doctor.’

‘I’ll call again in a few days to check your blood pressure, just to be sure.’

Glad that the examination was over, Lucy relaxed. ‘Are you ready for tea and biscuits?’

‘Need you ask?’ It had become a ritual; a bit of a banter, then the examination, before tea and biscuits. He had come to look forward to it. ‘That’s the main reason I come to visit,’ the young man teased. He picked up his black bag. ‘A few quiet moments in that delightful kitchen of yours sets me up for the day.’

Inching herself off the bed, Lucy slipped her shoes on. ‘You haven’t forgotten how I like mine, have you?’

He shook his head. ‘Strong, with a little milk and two sugars.’

‘That’s it.’ She waved him away with a gesture. ‘Off you go then. You make your way down, and I’ll follow on.’

By the time Lucy arrived in the kitchen, the doctor was pouring out two cups of tea and had got out a plate of Elsie’s home-baked shortbread. ‘I can’t stay long,’ he told Lucy. ‘I must check on Maggie Craig; she’s not too far away from giving birth.’

Lucy tut-tutted. ‘That’s her eighth in as many years. If you ask me, it’s not Maggie as wants checking on, it’s her old man. Quickest way to help Maggie and cut your work down into the bargain, is to chop it off for him. That’ll give everyone a rest, won’t it?’

The doctor laughed. ‘It’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?’

Lucy shrugged. ‘He’s a selfish bugger, though. If it was him having the babies, he wouldn’t be so quick to make them.’

She thought of her dead son, little Jamie, drowned these past twenty years or more, and her heart was sore. ‘Mind you,’ she went on in a softer voice, ‘there is nothing more magical than holding a child in your arms.’

The doctor looked up to see the sadness in her eyes; he had seen it before and had been curious. Not for the first time, he sensed there was something in Lucy’s past that she was unable to let go. He might have asked, but the young man’s instinct told him Lucy would not thank him for it. So he waited until the sadness had passed, and she was smiling at him, as though everything was all right in her world.

‘I expect you have a busy day ahead of you, Doctor?’

‘I have, yes.’ Finishing his tea, he munched the last of his biscuit, and when he thought Lucy wasn’t looking, he tucked one into his jacket pocket. ‘I really must get on now,’ he excused himself. ‘Remember what I said, won’t you?’

Lucy nodded. ‘I will, yes. Thank you, Doctor, and mind you don’t crush that biscuit to crumbs in your pocket. Here.’ Taking a napkin from the drawer she gave it to him with a knowing little smile. ‘Best wrap it up in that, eh?’

Looking like a little boy caught with his hand in the sweetie jar, Dr Nolan did as he was told, and went sheepishly on his way.

Through the window Lucy watched him leave and when he was gone her gaze fell on Mary, who was walking with Ben towards the house.

‘We’re away now, Mother.’ Mary arrived to kiss Lucy cheerio. ‘Ben’s just washing the oil from his hands, then we’re off to organise the tractor.’

Lucy laughed. ‘And what do you know about tractors?’

Mary made a face. ‘Nothing,’ she admitted. ‘I know about cutting grass, about fertilising the soil, growing flowers and vegetables, plants from seed and collecting eggs from the chickens to sell at market, but that’s as far as my knowledge stretches.’ She gave her mother a curious glance. ‘What are you smiling at?’

Lucy’s memories had never jaded. She could remember Overhill Farm in the little Wirral village of Comberton by Weir as if it was yesterday, with Barney and his sons ploughing and seeding, and harvest-time, when the world was aglow with sunshine and the fields yielded their bounty. Somehow, without even knowing it, she had come to learn quite a bit about tractors and the way they worked. ‘I was just thinking,’ she said vaguely.

‘From the look on your face, they must be pleasant thoughts.’ Mary had often seen that look on her mother’s face, a look of yesteryear, sometimes sad, sometimes warm with joy, and not once had she ever felt a part of it. ‘What were you thinking about?’

‘Oh, things that happened before you were born.’

‘What things?’

Lucy was wary now. Even though Mary knew something about the secrets of the past, Lucy found it hard to discuss every little detail. ‘I was just remembering how much I seem to have learned about tractors, that’s all.’

Mary was intrigued. ‘You loved helping Daddy on the farm, didn’t you?’ How she wished she had been a part of it all. But not the heartache, not that.

Lucy didn’t get a chance to answer because now Ben was in the room, unrolling his sleeves and preparing to leave. ‘If you’re ready, we’d best be off now,’ he told Mary, and to Lucy he suggested, ‘Would you like to come with us?’

Lucy was tempted. ‘That’s very kind,’ she said, ‘but you don’t want me limping along, acting the wallflower. Besides, I’ve got things to do. You two get off and enjoy yourselves. You can tell me all about it when you get back.’

All too soon the two of them were climbing into Ben’s car, laughing and talking, and Lucy was thrilled to see them so happy and content. ‘See that, Barney?’ she murmured aloud. ‘That was you and me, in the short time we had together.’

Ravaged by emotions and memories she found difficult to cope with, Lucy went back to her room, slipped out of her shoes and lay down on the bed. Her gaze fixed on the ceiling, eyes closed, bittersweet tears trickled down her face. ‘I want you back,’ she whispered. ‘Oh Barney, even now, after twenty years, I still miss you so much. I want you back – and I know it will never happen.’

For a time her heart was unbearably heavy. When she was quiet at last, she went to the bathroom and washed her face. Afterwards, feeling fresher and more able to face another day, she went downstairs, where Elsie was covering a large pie with pastry. ‘Steak and kidney pie and mash for dinner tonight,’ she advised Lucy. ‘I’ll cover it with greaseproof paper and set it on the shelf in the pantry. Oh, and there’s apple crumble for afterwards. Won’t take a second for Mary to heat up the spuds with a knob of butter, and to boil up some custard.’

Lucy was astonished. ‘Good grief!’ She stared at the pie and then at Elsie. ‘You’ve got your skates on this morning, haven’t you?’ She glanced about the kitchen, which by now was spick and span. ‘Are you in a hurry or what?’

For a minute it seemed as though Elsie had not heard Lucy’s question, because she continued cutting the edge of the pastry to a pattern, then carried the pie to the pantry. Now she was at the sink, slapping her hands together to rid them of the flour before washing them under the tap.

Lucy spoke again. ‘Elsie! Did you hear what I said?’

‘I did, yes, and there’s no need to shout.’

‘Well then, have the manners to answer.’

The woman turned. ‘All right – then yes, I am in a hurry.’

‘Why?’

‘Things to do.’ Elsie never used many words when a few would do.

‘What things?’

Elsie carried on wiping the table. After replacing the tablecloth she looked Lucy in the eye. ‘Very well, if you must know, I’m taking Charlie to have his eyes tested.’

Lucy was open-mouthed. ‘Can’t he take himself?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? He’s a grown man with a tongue in his head, isn’t he?’

‘That’s the trouble.’

‘What?’

‘The tongue in his head. Gift o’ the gab – that’s his problem! If I’m not there to explain what’s been going on, he’ll convince the optician that he’s fine. Then there’ll be no spectacles and he’ll carry on the same as before.’

‘And what’s wrong with that? Charlie is a fine blacksmith. Surely he doesn’t need spectacles for shoeing horses?’

‘Hmh! Shows how much you know.’ Hands on hips, Elsie seemed ready for another fight. ‘Last week, Ted Willis brought his old mare into the yard for re-shoeing and Charlie put the shoe on upside down; the poor animal went away limping worse than when Ted fetched her in. If Ted hadn’t brought her back, she’d have gone lame for sure.’

Lucy thought the woman was being a bit harsh. ‘Charlie doesn’t often make a mistake like that. Does it really mean he wants marching off to the optician’s?’

Elsie bristled. ‘I think I’m the best judge of that, if yer please. And it weren’t the only time he got it wrong neither.’

‘Oh, you’ve always had a tendency to exaggerate,’ Lucy scoffed.

Elsie was indignant. ‘What about this then?’ she demanded haughtily. ‘A few days ago, Larry Barker brought his cart in for a new wheel to be put on, and when he came back to collect it, Charlie had only ruddy well changed the wrong wheel! Then the week afore that, I asked if he’d come into Bedford with me as I had a lot to carry home. We went round the shops and when we got back to the bus-stop there was a queue. When the bus arrived, blow me down if he didn’t follow Maggie Craig on, grab her shopping-bags and sit himself beside her … The silly article thought he were sitting next to me. I wouldn’t mind if she hadn’t got a backside the size of the gasworks and a gob to match!’

At first, Lucy thought she ought not to laugh. Then she began to titter and suddenly the pair of them were laughing hysterically. ‘Now you know why he needs the spectacles,’ Elsie spluttered.

And Lucy had to agree.

‘I’ve done all the chores for now,’ Elsie said finally, wiping her eyes. ‘See you same time tomorrow.’

As the little woman put on her coat, Lucy told her: ‘Be gentle with him, won’t you? I know what a bully you can be when the mood takes you.’

‘Huh!’ Elsie gave her a scornful glance. ‘Look who’s talking!’ Off she went, shoulders high and head up, muttering to herself: ‘Do this, do that … never satisfied unless she’s interfering! Besides, what does she know about my Charlie?’

‘Have you two been arguing again?’ Adam stuck his head round the back door.

Lucy swung round. ‘That woman’s getting more difficult by the day,’ she said. ‘Does as she likes and won’t listen to a word anyone says.’

Adam smiled. ‘Like someone else we know then, eh?’

Lucy laughed. ‘You’re right. I do have too much to say at times.’ Whenever she was in Adam’s company she felt content. ‘Is the car all right?’

‘Running like silk.’

‘So, you’ll be away on your errands now, will you?’

‘That was the plan,’ he answered quietly. ‘Go into Bedford and collect the curtains you ordered, then visit the Post Office and the baker’s on the way back. Then I’ve the rest of the day to put the new shelves up in the outhouse.’

‘How long will you be?’

‘I can’t say for certain. Sometimes the road gets busy, sometimes it isn’t.’ Sensing her loneliness, he asked, ‘D’you want to come with me?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘No.’

Adam knew Lucy’s every mood, and at this moment he knew he should not leave her alone with her memories. ‘There’s nothing so urgent that it can’t wait till later,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll keep you company for a while – if you want me to, that is?’

The tears still moist in her eyes, Lucy looked up. ‘Thank you, Adam, I’d like that,’ she whispered. No one alive knew her better than Adam, she thought fondly.

Relief flooded through him. When Lucy was sad, he was sad. And he was always content to be with her even if only as a friend; though one day, God willing, she might come to see him through more loving eyes.

He went over and settled himself in the chair opposite. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘And don’t say nothing, because I know you too well.’

‘What makes you think something’s wrong?’

He smiled knowingly. ‘You’re thinking of Barney, aren’t you?’ His voice was kind.

Lucy nodded.

‘And you’ve been crying, haven’t you?’

She nodded again.

‘D’you want to talk about it?’

Drawing a deep sigh, Lucy confessed: ‘I can’t stop wondering about Barney’s other family … Vicky and the children. Lately I can’t seem to get them out of my mind, wondering where they are, and if they’re safe.’ She gave a nervous smile. ‘I won’t always be here, Adam. I’m getting old. How could I go to my Maker, with such a weight of secrets in my heart?’

Adam gave a slow, knowing nod. ‘I understand how you feel, because I, too, often think about the others. To be honest, Lucy, I’m not sure if it would be kinder for them to know how it all came about. Or would the truth ruin what small contentment they might have found?’

Adam’s concerns echoed in Lucy’s mind. ‘If they are to be told, it’s me who should do the telling. And like I say, I’m getting on now, and time is rushing by. I must soon decide one way or the other.’

The very thought of not having her around filled him with dread. ‘Don’t talk as though you’re old and decrepit because you’re not,’ he urged. ‘God willing, you and I have many more years to enjoy, before our time comes.’

For a moment Lucy reflected on his words, and as always Adam had brought a kind of quietness to her heart. ‘I hope so,’ she murmured. ‘But I can’t shut out the past, and I can’t see a way forward.’

Adam felt the same, but his first instinct had always been to protect Lucy. ‘All I’m saying is, don’t torment yourself. For all our sakes, try and let it rest. For now at least.’

Driven by doubts and guilt, Lucy reminded him, ‘Some time ago, you insisted that Mary was entitled to know the truth, and you were right. So, don’t you think they should know it, too? You say we risk ruining any contentment they may have found, but what if all these years they’ve never known peace of mind? What if the children have grown into adulthood, still carrying all the pain and anger that drove them away. And what of young Susie? Dear God, she loved her father with all of her young heart.’

Lucy recalled the powerful bond between Barney and his daughter. ‘I can’t get her out of my mind. I see the two of them sitting on the swing in the orchard, talking and laughing … happy and content in each other’s company. She was so young, Adam. She knew only what she saw and heard, and that was a shocking thing. She never knew how Barney was suffering … how much he adored her. Susie was his darling little girl, and she went away hating him …’

Her voice breaking with emotion, Lucy bowed her head. For a moment neither she nor Adam spoke, but when he reached out to lay his hand over hers, she grasped it tight, drew it to her face and held it there for a moment.

To Lucy the moment was immensely comforting. Adam was right. He knew her as no one else could. He had travelled the years with her and Barney, and when Barney was gone, he was her beacon of light through days of darkness.

Though he could never be Barney, Adam was a very special man.

When the moment was gone, she released his hand and raised her eyes to his. ‘I try, but I can’t stop thinking about them – Susie, the two boys and Vicky, that lovely gentle woman who did all she could for me and Jamie – treated us like her own family. You know how devoted she and Barney were to each other, how they lived their whole life around each other. What happened to them, to the children, was so cruel, Adam … so terrible!’

So many sunsets had come and gone since those days over twenty years ago, she thought. In her mind she cast her memory back to the time when she could run like the wind and her life was filled with sunshine and the joy of youth. But there had been pain too; such pain she had thought never to recover from it. But somehow life goes on and takes you with it, whether you want it to or not.

Later, when everything else was lost, she and Barney had known their own joy together, and though it was for such a short time, Lucy had thanked the Good Lord many times over.

After Barney had died from the heart disease that had destroyed his last few years on this earth, her life seemed desolate. But then Barney had left her with a new life: Mary, their daughter, had been her salvation. Along with her dear friend, Adam, that patient, endearing man to whom she owed so much.

‘Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world.’ Speaking her thoughts in a whisper, she hardly even noticed that Adam was beside her.

‘Lucy?’ Adam’s quiet voice invaded her thoughts. ‘What are you thinking?’

She looked up at him, her quiet eyes bathing his face. ‘I was just thinking how Barney and I had so little time together. The days went all too swiftly, and even when we were making love and Mary was conceived, I always knew it was Vicky he needed, and not me.’ Her smile was bittersweet. ‘I didn’t mind, not really. I would rather have had that small part of him, than live all of my life without him.’

Adam had never heard Lucy talk of her relationship with Barney in that particular, intimate way. He felt embarrassed and humbled, yet proud that she felt able to impart such a confidence to him.

Suddenly she had his face cradled in her hands, her warm blue eyes hinting a smile. ‘I’m sorry.’

Relaxed in her gaze, he asked, ‘Why should you be sorry?’

‘I’ve been insensitive … talking of private moments with Barney, when I know how you feel towards me.’

Adam did not want her to reproach herself, and so he led her away from that place. ‘Have you always known how much I love you?’

Lucy’s smile was radiant. ‘You were never very good at hiding it.’

‘Did you think I was foolish?’

‘Never! Besides, I always loved you back. But not in the way I loved Barney.’

Adam’s face crumpled in a smile. ‘It’s an odd world,’ he said. ‘I love you; you loved Barney; and he loved Vicky. The eternal triangle.’

Letting go of him, Lucy sat back in her seat. ‘We can’t help the way we feel,’ she answered.

With her touch still tingling on his skin, Adam waited a moment, before in a spurt of boldness he asked, ‘Marry me?’

Momentarily taken aback, Lucy was about to answer, when he stopped her. ‘You said just now you loved me, though I accept it could never be like it was with Barney. But I’ve never loved anyone else and never could. Think about it, Lucy. We’re so good together. We can talk easily to each other …’

There was so much he wanted to say. ‘We’ve known some wonderful times, Lucy,’ he remarked thoughtfully. ‘Some good, some bad. But we’ve lived through them together, always supporting each other. We make each other laugh, we’re content and easy in each other’s company. What more could we ask, at our time of life? And I’ll always take care of you, Lucy. You know that.’

Lost for words, she took a moment to consider what he was saying. This was not the first time Adam had proposed, and she suspected it would not be the last. But this time there was a kind of desperation about his boldness, and it made her ashamed.

‘Oh Lucy, I’m so sorry.’ Wishing he had kept his silence, Adam was concerned that he had turned her against him. ‘Now I’ve spoiled everything, haven’t I?’

Lucy put his fears to rest. ‘No, you haven’t, you darling man. We’ve always understood each other, and we’ve always been able to speak our minds. That will never change. You’ll always be very special to me.’

‘But you won’t marry me?’

‘I can’t.’

‘Never?’

Lucy had learned to count her life in minutes and weeks. ‘Never is a long time.’

Sensing a kind of acceptance, Adam thought it wise to back away from the subject of marriage. ‘I won’t mention it again.’

Lucy chuckled. ‘Yes, you will.’

‘Do you want me to?’

Loth to mislead him, she made a suggestion. ‘Why don’t we just leave things as they are for now? When I have a change of mind, I’ll be sure to tell you. Agreed?’ She held out her hand for him to hold.

Adam was thrilled. Lucy had said, ‘when I have a change of mind’.

That was his first real glimpse of hope. ‘Agreed!’ Reaching out, he took hold of her hand and kept it clasped in his for a moment longer than necessary, until Lucy gave him one of those reprimanding, twinkling looks that turned his toes up and set his old heart racing.

The conversation took another direction. ‘Lucy …’ He hesitated. ‘Will you let me take you back?’

‘Back?’ She knew what he meant, but could not bring herself to acknowledge it. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Back there … to Jamie.’ Before she could protest, he went on, ‘For your own peace of mind, you must go back. Do you think I don’t know how it haunts you? Sometimes, when your mind wanders, I know you’re thinking of him, reliving that night, remembering every little detail. I feel your pain, Lucy. You need to be there. It isn’t enough that you’ve arranged to have his grave looked after, and no, Bridget did not tell me about that. She didn’t have to.’

Lucy felt the weight of his every word. ‘Are you judging me?’ she whispered.

Adam shook his head. ‘I would never judge you, you know that,’ he assured her. ‘We all need to deal with things in different ways. I knew you could never come away and not have someone look after Jamie’s resting-place. Bridget was the obvious choice; she’s loyal and honest, and she thinks of you as family.’

Lucy gave a wistful smile. ‘She’s always been there for me, and now she’s there for little Jamie. I owe her so much.’

‘I know that. And it’s a good arrangement, but it isn’t the same, is it? Forgive me, Lucy, but anyone can pay weekly visits and place the flowers there, and I know Bridget is a long and loyal friend, but she is not his mother. You are.’

Pausing a moment, he then went on in softer tone, ‘I know how, deep down, you long to go back. Let me take you, Lucy. Please! Let me do that much for you at least?’

‘I can’t!’

‘Why not?’

For a long moment Lucy lapsed into silence, her mind alive with the past, then in a fearful voice she asked, ‘What do you think happened to Edward Trent?’

Adam snorted with disgust. ‘We can only hope and pray he’s already got his comeuppance. A man like that must incur enemies and loathing wherever he goes.’

‘Why do you think they never caught him after … after he …’ Her voice broke.

‘Because like all rats he knows all the dark places where he can scurry away and hide.’

‘Do you think he’s still alive?’

Adam shook his head. ‘Who knows? If there’s any justice, he’ll be rotting in the fires of Hell where he belongs!’

When now, Lucy turned away, her face cold and set with loathing, he asked tenderly, ‘Let me take you back, my darling. It might help to lay the ghosts.’

But Lucy would not be persuaded. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ she replied quietly.

Realising that Lucy had put up the barriers and he had no chance of getting close, Adam departed, leaving her to ponder on what he’d said.

Strolling to the dresser, Lucy held Barney’s photograph and for a time she looked at his familiar face, the strong set of his jaw, the light in those wonderful eyes, and the boyish, mischievous smile that played about his mouth. A sigh rippled through her body. So much to think about. So much guilt. And what about Vicky and the others? Should she write to them, or should she leave well alone?

The thought of revealing Barney’s long-held secret was almost unbearable. Lucy asked him: ‘How can I tell her how you put yourself through Hell, so she and your children could have peace of mind and security?’

She lingered a moment longer, tracing the profile of his face with the tip of her finger, and turning the whole idea over in her mind. ‘If the truth must be told, I pray they will find the strength to deal with it,’ she whispered.

As she walked away, Lucy turned back to the photo one last time. She thought of those on the other side of the Atlantic, and at last she knew what must be done. ‘I know I will have to tell them, Barney,’ she said out loud, ‘and I know it will come as a terrible shock. If I had it in my power, I would make it less painful for them.’ Her heart sank. ‘But it’s not.’

Squaring her shoulders, she searched inside herself for an answer, but there was none. ‘They would need to find the strength to live with it.’ The smallest hint of bitterness shaped her words. ‘Just as we did, all those long years ago.’

Outside, Elsie was chatting with the coalman, conveniently forgetting she was in a rush and making him chuckle as always. ‘I saw you in front as you came down the lane,’ she told him. ‘I might have begged a lift only you were too far away.’

A bumbling, homely sort with a wonky shoulder got from years of carrying heavy bags, the coalman joked, ‘So you don’t mind your arse being covered in coaldust then?’

‘Not really, no,’ Elsie replied. ‘I might tell yer, I’ve had worse than that in my time. But I’ve never had a ride in a coalcart.’

‘An’ would you enjoy two grown men fighting over yer?’

‘Hmh? That’ll be the day’

‘What would your Charlie say, if I let you sit on my cart?’

Elsie laughed. ‘I’ve no idea, but I’m willing if you are.’

‘I’d watch what you say if I were you.’ The coalman gave a naughty wink. ‘There’s many a man might take advantage of a remark like that.’

‘You behave yerself, Bert Peters!’ Elsie chided. ‘I’m too old in the tooth to be flirting with the likes of you – and besides, if I were to pounce on you now, you’d run a mile. Don’t deny it!’

Bert roared with laughter. ‘Aye, an’ if you were to pounce on me now, I’d more likely collapse. I’ve carried that many bags o’ coal today, me legs ’ave gone.’

Back in Knudsden House, Lucy heard their shrieks of laughter echo across the valley, and couldn’t help but smile. The world might be crumbling round your ears, she thought, but somehow, life went on.

Her thoughts returned to what Adam had said earlier, and her mind was made up.

Suddenly she knew what she must do. She looked up to the heavens, a deep yearning for peace flooding her heart. ‘I will go back and face the demons,’ she declared. ‘Maybe then, I can find some kind of peace.’

It would not be easy, she knew that. It had been a lifetime since she had travelled that particular road. When she left that familiar and much-loved place, she left behind a wealth of laughter, sun-filled days and happiness. The pain she took with her, for it had never gone away.

Her train of thought turned to the monster who had snuffed out her baby’s life.

‘Edward Trent, may you rot in Hell for what you did! You murdered your own son!’

She had no idea where he was. After the tragedy he had fled into the darkness of the night, and was never heard of again.

Many times over the years, Lucy had prayed that, somehow, he had been made to pay for the evil thing he did.

In the beginning, the hatred had eaten into her very soul, but now as the years caught up with her, after World War Two had changed everybody’s lives forever, she had learned not to let it rule her life. By contrast, with the passing of time, memories of Barney and the personal sacrifice he had made grew ever stronger; as did the need to put things right before it was too late.

She thought of how it had been, and her heart was sore. ‘I’m going back, Barney,’ she murmured. ‘Then I’m going to tell it all, to try and bring a measure of peace to Vicky, and the children.’

First, though, there was someone she needed to see.

Chapter 4

THE GOVERNOR WAS busy poring over official documents when the knock came on the door. ‘Yes, who is it?’

The prison officer told him, ‘I’ve got Carter with me now, sir.’

At once the Governor’s face betrayed his repugnance. ‘Right! Let’s have him.’

Momentarily disappearing, the prison officer threw open the door and thrusting Edward Carter inside, positioned him before the desk. ‘All right, Carter! Stand up straight!’ he growled. Digging him in the back with the flat of his hand, he pushed the prisoner forward.

For a seemingly long time, the Governor remained in his seat, his head bent and his long bony finger flicking over the pages of his document. He neither spoke nor looked up.

When, beginning to tire, the prisoner lolled to one side, his hands sliding deep into his pockets, he was caught up short by another dig in the back, this time rougher and more meaningful.

Without raising his head, the Governor peered over his rimless spectacles. ‘Remember where you are, Carter. Hands out of your pockets … NOW!’ he ordered.

Wary of this new Governor, who had already proved himself to be a harsh disciplinarian, the man quickly did as he was told. After all, he had secrets to hide. Moreover, he had almost served his time and did not want to jeopardise his date of release.

Intending to unnerve the prisoner, the Governor continued to stare at him, his observant gaze taking in every detail of the man: the strong, stocky build, the inherent arrogance, the thick shock of greying hair and the deeply-etched lines on the once-young and handsome face.

Here was a puzzle, he thought. Carter was a devious cunning sort, capable of anything, a man seemingly without a background; though if it was ever uncovered, it would probably betray him as an evil and merciless creature.

While the Governor studied the prisoner, the prisoner did the same in return. He observed the lank dark hair and the small beady eyes behind the spectacles; the long sinuous fingers now drumming on the desktop, racking his nerves and sending a ripple of murderous intent through his every sense. There were many men inside this prison he would like to strangle, but the greatest pleasure would come from feeling his hands round the Governor’s slender white throat.

His train of thought was abruptly broken as the Governor smiled directly into his face. ‘You’d like to kill me, wouldn’t you, Carter?’ he asked tantalisingly. ‘You’d love to get your two big hands round my throat and squeeze the life out of me. I’m right, aren’t I? You hate me so much you can taste it.’

Gulping so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the prisoner lowered his gaze, his thoughts going wild. Jesus! How did he know that? He must be a bloody mind-reader … but he was right. The prospect of choking him until he stopped breathing filled him with excitement.

The scraping of a chair told him the Governor was standing up. He could feel the coldness of his gaze as it fell on him. ‘Look at me, Carter.’ The sound of air being drawn through his nose was oddly loud in that warm, uncomfortable room. ‘LOOK AT ME, I SAY!’

Carter looked up. ‘Sir!’

The Governor came close, so close his smoke-stained breath fanned the prisoner’s face. ‘You broke both his legs, Carter.’ The voice was almost tender. ‘You went into the showers and broke both his legs. Why would you do a thing like that?’

The big man looked up. ‘I didn’t do it. I never touched him.’

‘Liar!’

‘No, sir. I’m no liar.’

‘So you say.’ The Governor put his hands behind his back and strolled about for a while, eventually coming up behind the prisoner. ‘If you didn’t do it, who did?’

‘Don’t know, sir. It pays to keep yourself to yourself in this place. All I know is, it weren’t me.’

‘You were seen.’

‘No, sir. It weren’t nothing to do with me.’

‘There was a witness, Carter! You were seen … slithering into the space beside him. One minute he was washing, and the next he was writhing on the floor and you were gone.’

‘No, sir!’ As he glanced up, rage fired his eyes. If ever he found out who had grassed on him, he’d slit their throat without a second thought. ‘Who was it, sir? Who lied about it being me?’

Silence fell, and in that moment the air was charged with a sense of danger. Eventually the Governor spoke, his voice so soft it was barely audible. ‘Did I tell you to look up?’

The prisoner dropped his gaze. ‘No, sir.’

‘Did I give you permission to speak … to ask me questions?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Mmm.’ The smaller man remained still for a moment, then he strolled round the room, and after a time he returned to stand before the prisoner. ‘You were seen!’

Cursing himself for almost losing control, the prisoner gave no reply.

‘You had an argument with him earlier. Later, you saw your opportunity, and you viciously broke both his legs.’

Slowly shaking his head, the prisoner remained silent.

‘They say you threw him to the ground and stamped on his legs, so hard that they cracked under the weight. Did you do that, Carter? Did you?’

Sweating profusely, the prisoner looked up and in hesitant voice denied it yet again. ‘No, sir. I swear it.’

‘I see.’ Anger and disappointment coloured the man’s voice. ‘This is not the first time you’ve been brought before me, Carter,’ he snapped. ‘Time and again you’ve caused trouble amongst the prisoners. You’re a nasty, evil sort who belongs more in a cage than a prison.’

He took a step away, as though he suddenly could not bear to be near such low-life. ‘I know you did this, Carter, I’d gamble my life on it. But you’re such a devious devil, I can’t prove it. Y’see, they’re all too cowardly to come forward, but you already knew that, didn’t you?’

He leaned forward, his face almost touching that of the prisoner. ‘You may be off the hook on this one, but there will come a time when I get you bang to rights. So watch out, Carter, because from now on, you won’t be able to scratch your backside without me knowing.’

Turning to the officer, he ordered briskly, ‘All privileges stopped for the foreseeable future. Now get him out of my sight!’

With that the prisoner was dismissed, and when he was gone, the Governor sat at his desk, muttering under his breath, ‘Nasty piece of work! No background, no past. It’s as though he was never born.’

Taking off his glasses, he placed them on the desk and with both hands he wiped the sweat from his face. ‘I wish I knew what made the bastard tick. If I knew that, I’d be able to finish him once and for all.’

Replacing his spectacles, he resumed his paperwork. But the leering face as it went out of the door burned in his mind, until a few minutes later, he had to stop work, go to the cabinet and taking out a bottle, pour himself a much-needed drink. There were times when he wondered if he really needed this job after all.

That evening, when the lights were out and only the narrowest shaft of silver moonlight filtered through the window-bars, Edward Trent – for Carter was only an assumed name – lay in his bunk, his eyes closed and his mind full of thoughts about the woman he could not get out of his mind, and the child called Jamie, his one and only son, who was lying in a cold churchyard because of him.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a ciggie hid away somewhere, ’ave ye?’ The voice with the Scots accent belonged to the man in the lower bunk; young and bold, he feared no one, except maybe the man above him, who was renowned for his quick temper and cruel punishment of anyone who set against him.

The answer was instant and sharp. ‘If I had, what makes you think I’d give it to you?’

‘Well, for one thing, I thought you might appreciate the way I kept my mouth shut when questioned by the Governor this morning.’

‘You had a choice. I didn’t ask you to keep quiet about that weasel in the shower.’

There was a low peal of laughter. ‘What d’you take me for? What would have happened if I’d told them how I saw you go in, I heard him squeal, and then I heard the crunch of his bones? I also saw you come out and slink away. I knew what you’d done, all right. I could have shopped you if I’d wanted.’

‘Why don’t you then?’ Hanging his upper end over the bedrail, Trent hissed at the young man, ‘Go on! Call for the screw and tell him what you know, you Scottish nonce.’

‘Oh yeah? And have both my legs broken tomorrow? No thanks. I’ll settle for a ciggie.’

There was a pause while Trent stared down on the bold young man. Then he swung away, delved into the curve of the wall and a moment later threw down a hand-rolled cigarette. ‘Two draws and no more,’ he warned. ‘If they get a whiff of smoke they’ll be in here to search the place from top to bottom.’ He gave a devious grin. ‘It wouldn’t do for them buggers to poke about where they’re not wanted.’

The young man sat up. ‘I need a light.’

Another moment and the match was thrown into his lap. ‘Two draws and no more,’ he was reminded.

Having struck the match on his shoe, the young man lit the cigarette. He took a deep, satisfying draw. Then: ‘D’you mind if I ask you something?’

‘I don’t know till you ask me.’

‘Have you ever killed anybody?’ Taking a long smooth drag of the cigarette, the young fella looked up, startled when he was suddenly grasped round the neck and hoisted into the air. ‘Woah, woah! I didnae mean nuthin’.’

He was hoisted almost to the top bunk, shaken hard, then dropped to the ground where he lay for a moment, choking on the smoke he already had in his throat. ‘You’re a damned lunatic!’ he gasped. ‘Isn’t a man allowed to ask a question without the wind being knocked out of him?’

Above him the big man leered over the edge of his bunk. ‘Twice,’ he said softly. ‘I killed twice; one was a thieving bastard who thought he could get one over on me …’

‘Hmh!’ Clambering up, the young man brushed the dust from his prison nightwear. ‘He won’t be thieving from you again then, will he, eh?’

‘Too right he won’t.’ Lying back in his bunk, the big man was in a confiding mood, especially as he knew his cellmate was not the gabbing kind. ‘I’ve got this temper, y’see? When folks rile me up the wrong way, I lash out. I can’t help it.’

‘Is that right?’ No sooner had the young man taken another deep drag of the cigarette, than it was torn from his mouth. ‘Jesus! You’ve ripped the skin offa my lips!’

‘I said two draws. It’s mine now.’

‘Who was the other one?’

‘What other one?’

‘You said you’d killed twice.’

The answer was slow in coming. ‘A child … I killed a child, but it was an accident.’ Suddenly he was back there, the dark rage alive in him as it was then. ‘The bastards should never have chased me! If they’d stayed back like I asked, it never would have happened. I knew she wouldn’t come with me, so I took the kid, but she ran after me … the other man was coming upriver and I felt trapped. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was as much their fault as mine. They should never have come after me!’ The last words were a howl.

‘Whose kid was it?’ The young man knew his cellmate was a bad lot, but a child! That was a terrible bad thing.

‘It was mine.’

‘Christ Almighty! You killed your own child?’

He might have said more but when two iron-like fists tightened round his head, he thought he too was about to die. ‘All right! All right! It was an accident – I understand. Let go, you crazy bugger, let go of me!’ In the second before the other man let go, the young Scotsman was sure his head would burst.

Trent went on, his voice thick with emotion: ‘His mammy was the best woman I ever had. I didn’t realise how much I loved her until I’d let her go, then she went off with some other man, and I couldn’t get her back. She turned me away, told me she wanted nothing to do with me ever again.’ Anger quivered in his voice. ‘Have you any idea how that makes a man feel?’

For a time he was silent, reliving that night. ‘I was crazy … out of my head. I grabbed the boy and carried him off, hoping she’d change her mind and come with me, but instead she went wild! She came after me and I panicked. She tried to snatch the boy and somehow it all went wrong. It was the river, y’see? The river took him away. It was Lucy’s fault. If she’d agreed to make her life with me, it never would have happened.’ His voice broke. ‘I don’t suppose Lucy will ever forgive me.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘I don’t know. I ran as far away as I could … went back to sea for many a long year. When war broke out I was over in Canada – went to work in a logging camp for the duration. Didn’t see why I should get a bullet in the arse from Hitler while I could avoid it.’

The other prisoner, who had been too young to fight, didn’t think much of this attitude, having lost an elder brother and an uncle, both soldiers, in the war. However, he wisely kept silent, although something of his feelings came over when he asked: ‘So, they didn’t put you away then?’

‘No.’

‘And you got away with it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the other one?’

‘What other one?’

‘The one that stole from you.’

‘I was clever. After I’d killed him, I put him where he’d never be found. He was a nobody, a thief and vagabond; it was easy enough to take on his name. I made sure I stayed away long enough to build up my new identity.’ Arrogant as ever he went on, ‘Twenty year and more, I managed to stay out o’ the limelight, then one night on shore leave in Liverpool I got drunk and picked a fight which ended up nasty, and got me sent down.’

‘Is Edward Carter your real name?’

A moment, then: ‘More questions, eh, Scotty?’ Trent grew cautious. ‘Sounds to me like I’ve said more than enough.’

‘You’re a lucky man. By rights you should have been hung from the neck for what you did.’

With amazing agility that belied his age, the big man swung himself down from the bunk, caught the young fella by the shirt-collar and yanked him to his feet. ‘You should be honoured,’ Trent growled. ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever confided in. Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe you know too much for your own good.’

Tightening his grip, he drew the younger man closer still. ‘Have I made a big mistake? For all I know, you might be the sort who would like to make a few bob out of what I’ve told you. Are you? Are you the gabby sort?’

Eyes wide with fear, the young man assured him, ‘You know I’d never do a thing like that. I’d have to be some kind of a fool! I value my legs too much. I wouldn’t want to be left crippled or worse, just ’cause I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut.’

The big man hissed, ‘What do you know about me?’

‘Not a thing! Not a single thing!’

‘Very wise.’ Flinging him aside, Trent hoisted himself back on his bunk. A moment later the cigarette end was thrown down to the other prisoner. ‘I often wonder about her.’

‘Who?’ Thankful to still have the use of his legs and another couple of draws into the bargain, the young man was still shaking.

‘Lucy Baker. She was the most exciting woman you could ever meet. She wasn’t what you might call a beauty – not dazzling or glamorous or anything like that.’

‘If she wasnae glamorous or beautiful, what attracted you to her?’

‘Lucy was different somehow, hard to forget. She was childlike – pure and innocent, but mischievous, too. She was more alive than any other woman I’ve ever met. Her smile was more radiant than a summer’s day, and when she laughed it turned your heart over. She was small and homely, with eyes that sang. They kinda latched onto you and wouldn’t let go.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘I don’t know.’ He dreamed of her. ‘She’s older now, like me. I often wonder if she still has that magical quality, or whether she’s all shrivelled and ugly. I’ve taken good care of myself over the years, but I can’t tell what she looks like. I’ve still got this image in my mind … might be a shame to spoil it with the real thing.’ He gave a wry little laugh. ‘I daresay I’d be shocked if I were to see her now.’

‘Have you ever been back … to that place?’

‘No. I want to, though. I’ve always wanted to, only I might stir it all up. There was a bloke, Barney Davidson his name was. Likely as not if he saw me, he’d come after me. From what I recall, he wasn’t a big man, but he had this bull-like strength about him. There’s bound to be trouble. I don’t know if I should risk being carted off and strung up for what happened that night.’

‘So, you won’t ever go back there then?’

The big man gave a gruff laugh. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I just might decide to go there and find out if she’s still around. First though, I have to keep my nose clean and get out of here.’ He hung over the end of the bunk. ‘But don’t think I won’t seek you out, if ever you open your mouth about what you heard here tonight.’

The young man handed back the tab end of the cigarette. ‘I might be bold and reckless at times – it’s what got me here in the first place. But I’m not wrong in the head. Your secret’s safe with me, so you needn’t worry.’

His cellmate gave a soft, sinister laugh. ‘I don’t intend to,’ he replied confidently. ‘I’d rather let you do the worrying.’

Long into the early hours, the young man lay awake to consider his companion’s veiled warning. There was no doubt in his mind; if he ever talked of what was discussed this night, he would be made to pay a terrible price.

All the same he was intrigued by what he’d heard of the child and the woman; and how, even now after all this time, the big man was still besotted with her. This Lucy: she sounded like the woman every man needed in his life – not glamorous enough to attract other men, but with a special inner beauty that shone out.

What was she doing now? What did she look like? Was she shrivelled and ugly as Carter feared, or was she still the same magical person she had always been? Most of all, what were her feelings towards him? After all, indirectly or not, he had murdered her child.

One thing was certain. It was only the fear of capture for what he had done that had kept Carter away all this time.

Glancing up to make sure his cellmate was asleep, the Scotsman mulled over the story he’d been told. He muttered softly as though talking to Lucy direct, ‘Seems to me, the madman still has a craving for you.’

Closing his eyes, he made the sign of the cross on himself. ‘God help you, lady. I’ve got a feeling you’re not rid of him yet!’

Chapter 5

‘DO YOU WANT to help?’ Emerging from the barn at Far Crest Farm, Ben made his way over to Mary, who was leaning on the fence. ‘Look what I’ve found.’ Holding out a pair of wellies he told her, ‘They’re a bit big, but I’m sure you’ll manage.’

With his brown cords tucked into his own wellingtons and wearing a woolly polo-neck jumper under his knee-length coat, she thought he looked every inch the farmer. ‘What? You want me to help round up the sheep?’ she said nervously. ‘I wouldn’t have a clue how to start.’

He smiled patiently. ‘And you never will if you don’t let me show you how.’ With the confidence of a man who was content with his lot, he came up beside her and slid an arm round her waist. In each other’s company they were quiet and easy, lingering a moment to enjoy the feast of Nature spread out before them.

‘This is the time of day I love the most.’ Ben never failed to be amazed at how quickly he had forgotten the city life. His work and his heart were now firmly rooted here in Salford. ‘There are three times in the day when I feel closer to the land,’ he confided now. ‘First thing in the morning when the world still sleeps and the dew is on the grass; the end of the day when the sun is going down and the sky is shot with colour; and now when it’s turning midday, with the morning slipping into afternoon.’

Reaching across, he kissed Mary softly on the face. ‘Before I met you, I was a lonely man,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘I watched the days change and pass, and with the ending of each one, I felt even lonelier. Because there was so much beauty around me, I learned to live with my loneliness and enjoy what I have here. But now I have you to share it all with, and I’ve never been happier, or more content.’

Taking her by the shoulders, he gently turned her round to face him. For a long moment he looked on her face, on those deep, lavender-blue eyes and the shock of thick fair hair that framed her pretty features. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Now that I’ve got you, I never want to be without you.’

‘If I have my way,’ Mary teased him, ‘I promise you will never be.’ Her thoughts turned to her parents, Barney and Lucy. ‘Sometimes though, I can’t help but feel frightened,’ she added.

Ben held her close. ‘Frightened of what?’

‘Of the way we are, you and me.’

‘Why should you be frightened?’

‘Because of my parents. They loved each other too, yet after a pitifully short time they were parted.’ After years of waiting for the right man, Ben had brought her alive, and at the same time made her more afraid than she had ever been. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I lost you, Ben.’

Ben held her close. He understood her fears, for didn’t he feel the very same? ‘When you love someone,’ the feel of her silky hair against his face was wonderful, ‘you have to take each day as it comes and live it to the full. The truth is, you have two choices, my darling: on the one side, you have to accept that there can never be a happy ending for one or the other of you … unless somehow you were to leave this earth at one and the same time.’

Mary had not thought of it that way, but now she realised how starkly true that was. ‘You said there were two choices?’

He nodded. ‘On the other hand, you can choose never to commit yourself to anyone. But if you do that, you will never know what it’s like to love someone the way your mother loved Barney, or the way we love each other.’ He slowly shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss out on what we have now.’

Mary had no doubts either. ‘I’d rather suffer pain and loneliness for part of my life, than never know what it was like to love you,’ she told him.

Holding her at arm’s length he was astonished to see the tears bright in her eyes. With the tip of his finger, he wiped them away. ‘You and I have been very lucky because somehow, we found each other. So, for the moment let’s just be grateful and, as I said, take each day as it comes.’

Having returned from his wanderings, Ben’s faithful old Labrador Chuck ran to meet them, excitedly yapping. ‘I think he’s trying to tell us something,’ Mary laughed.

Ben leaned down to pacify the animal. ‘All right, all right! Calm yourself down.’ Looking up to Mary he asked, ‘So, are you willing to give it a go? Do you want to help with the sheep?’

Never having done it before, Mary took a moment to answer, but when she did, it was with enthusiasm. ‘Very well. I’ll give it a go.’

‘I knew it!’ Ben exclaimed. ‘We’ll make a farmer of you yet.’

As it turned out, Mary had never enjoyed herself so much. The dog was a master at rounding up the sheep. ‘Gently now, boy!’ Ben kept him under control so as not to send the sheep into a run, which could damage the pregnant ewes.

In no time at all, the flock were teased into the pen, ready for Ben and Mary to weed out the more heavily pregnant sheep and release the others.

With great care and tenderness, though never losing authority, Ben examined each and every one. The heavily-pregnant ewes were given over to Mary, who then led them into the smaller adjoining pen which ran behind the field-gate, while one by one the others were returned to graze the main field.

When the flock had been sorted, Ben and Mary took a breather. ‘I’m proud of you,’ Ben told Mary. ‘You’re a born farmer’s wife.’

The twelve pregnant ewes were next ushered into the smaller paddock nearer to the homestead, where Ben could keep an eye on them. ‘I think we’ve earned a break,’ he yawned.

Mary agreed and the two of them made their way to the cottage, where they kicked off their boots, hung up their coats and washed the smell of sheep and muck off their hands.

Inside the cosy parlour, Ben soon had a cheery fire going, while in the kitchen Mary made the tea. She loved this pretty little place; with its low-beamed ceilings and big open stone fireplace, it was like a cottage you might find on a picture-postcard.

When the fire was roaring up the chimney and each of them had a warming drink, Ben sat in the armchair, while Mary curled up at his feet, her face aglow from the fire’s heat, and a contented smile on her face.

When she lapsed into a long silence, Ben leaned over her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’

Mary shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

But Ben knew different. ‘Hey! This is me you’re talking to. Something’s playing on your mind. If you’re worried, I’d like to know.’

Reaching up, she took hold of his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’ She didn’t want to spoil the moment, but she really did need to talk. ‘It’s something you said … about my parents. It’s been a year since we were told, and I still can’t take it all in – Barney sending his family away like that, making them hate him while all the time he was so ill, and in desperate need of them. And Mother, loving him like she did, when all the time he loved someone else.’

‘That must have been so hard for her,’ Ben remarked thoughtfully. ‘To work all the day long with someone you love, and to know that he only has eyes for his wife … although that’s exactly how it should be in a happy marriage.’

Mary had been thinking along the same lines. ‘It must have been Hell for her. And yet she stayed, content enough just to be near him.’

‘She and Barney were together in the end though,’ Ben reminded her. ‘And I for one am grateful for that, because if they hadn’t, then you would never have been born, and I would never have known you.’

‘What will she do, Ben? Will she ever bring herself to tell Barney’s other family what happened? Or will she leave them to live out their lives, in ignorance?’

Trusting him implicitly, she opened her heart. ‘I need to know where they are. I need to meet them and talk with them, about my father, and the way it was. I want them to know what he did for them … that he never stopped loving them, and that he sent them away because he didn’t want them to lose the opportunity of a new life in Boston by finding out that he was terminally ill.’

Since Adam had confided the truth, Mary had thought about little else. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Ben? Do you think it’s wrong for me to meet my other family … Thomas and Ronnie, and Susie? As for little Jamie, he was just a baby of two when he drowned, and Mum won’t talk about him. I have to know my roots, where I came from. I want to go back there, to Liverpool where it all happened!’

Her voice broke. ‘Oh Ben! If only I could remember clearly. Why won’t she take me there? Is she trying to protect me? Is she afraid I’ll be hurt by it all? But I’m hurting now, can’t she see that? Why doesn’t she understand that I desperately need to see where it all unfolded, if only to gain some peace of mind? I only know half the story and she won’t talk to me about it. I need to stand in the fields where they worked; I have to walk by the river where they fought to save little Jamie. I have to see where he lies and make my own peace with him.’

Taking her in his arms, Ben quietened her. ‘I know it’s hard, but it’s hard for your mother too. She lived through it, and now she’s having to live with the consequences of it all. Give her time. It will take a lot of strength for her to face it all again, but your mother is a strong, determined woman. She will go back. She will show you where it all happened, I know she will. Be patient, my darling. She needs to be sure; when the time comes for her to face all those demons, she’s bound to want you there beside her. Because you’re hers and Barney’s child, and because going back will be one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do.’

The two of them talked a while longer, until his embrace tightened and the kisses grew more urgent, and soon, right there on the rug, they made love for the very first time. It was a joyful, fulfilling experience, a bonding of heart and body, when the love between them was forged even stronger.

Afterwards, with passion melted and bodies exhausted, they lay in the warm glow of the fire, thinking and dreaming of their future together. They didn’t speak for a long time, because their hearts and minds were in harmony. There was no need for words.

After a time, while Mary was dressing, Ben ventured outside. A moment later, he was calling her. ‘MARY! Quickly – come and see!’

Not knowing what to expect, she ran out to find him beckoning to her, his face alight with excitement.

‘Look!’ He pointed to one of the ewes. Head down, almost on her knees, and with the whole of her weight pressed against the fence, she was in labour, and seemingly oblivious to their presence.

The next few minutes were magical. Inch by inch, the newborn appeared. Bathed in fluid, the lamb wormed its way out until, with the slightest plop, it slid to the ground. For what seemed an age, the mother did not move. Instead she stood, head hanging, resting. Then suddenly she turned to her offspring and began licking away the slimy, covering membrane.

Moments later, the lamb stood up, its legs unsteady and its head seeming far too large for its tiny body. It gave itself a shake, fell over and struggled up again, and in an incredibly short time, it was searching out its mammy’s teat.

Mary was thrilled. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Have you never seen a lamb born before?’ Ben had seen it many times now, and each time was just as wonderful as the last.

‘I’ve never seen one actually being born,’ Mary admitted. ‘I’ve walked the fields at different times and I’ve seen the newborns playing and skipping, but I’ve never actually seen a ewe giving birth.’

‘Have you ever touched a newborn lamb?’

‘Never.’

‘Would you like to?’

She was surprised. ‘Won’t the mother be hostile?’

Ben shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Then yes, I’d like that.’

They waited a while, until mother and newborn had bonded and the young one had its fill of milk. Then, with great care and talking to the mother as he went, Ben led Mary across the paddock.

He did not take the newborn straight away. Instead he gestured for Mary to be still; he murmured to the sheep that he was just as proud of her baby as she was, and that he meant no harm except to show her off and then return her. But the mother displayed little interest in them, and when he reached down to lift the newborn into his arms, she merely stood and watched, almost as though she knew he meant no harm.

At first, the little one struggled, but Ben secured the squirming bundle and holding it towards Mary, told her to smell its coat.

Nervously, Mary leaned towards the tiny creature and sniffed at its coat. ‘It smells warm, and tangy … like fresh-made marmalade,’ she laughed. ‘Can I touch her?’

When he nodded, she reached out and stroked her fingers over its fleece; the sensation was like nothing she had ever experienced. Beneath her touch, the tight curls of fleece felt hard and wiry. She was amazed. ‘I thought it would be soft to the touch,’ she said in wonderment.

Before returning the lamb to its mother, Ben dipped a finger in the fluid which had cradled the newborn and was now lying in little pockets in the grass. He then wiped it over the back of the lamb and returned it to its anxious mother, who ran her tongue over its back before leading it away, contented.

Mary was curious. ‘Why did you do that?’

Ben explained, ‘Sometimes, a ewe will reject a lamb if she’s not sure it’s hers. We’ve both handled the lamb and we’ve left our smell on it. By wiping the fluid on its back, I made sure she could smell and recognise her newborn, so there would be no doubt in her mind.’

This had been a day that Mary would always remember. She had made love with her husband-to-be and witnessed the miracle of birth, almost as a sign of the babies that she might have, one day in the future. But for now, she was anxious to get home and talk with her mother. For the moment, there were other important issues that needed to be resolved.

Lucy saw them arrive. ‘They’re back now,’ she told Adam, who had been polishing the car and was now enjoying the sandwich Lucy had brought him.

‘Good!’ Finishing his sandwich, he excused himself. ‘I’ll away and get out of these overalls.’

‘Don’t be long, will you?’ Strange how with every passing day, Lucy needed him to be more a part of everything she did.

Adam was thrilled but doubtful. ‘Are you sure you want me to stay?’

‘Yes, Adam, I’m sure.’ Lucy had no doubts. ‘You’ve always been a part of all this.’

‘Right then. I’ll go and get washed up. Give me ten minutes or so. Oh, and thanks for the sandwich.’ He handed her the plate. ‘It was tasty as always, though a bit more pickle would not have come amiss.’ With that he gave a mischievous wink and hurried away.

Lucy went outside and waited for her daughter and Ben to climb out of his car. ‘You’ve had a delivery this morning,’ she told her daughter. ‘It’s near the greenhouse.’

Mary, who was looking more beautiful than her mother had ever seen her, had completely forgotten. ‘What sort of a delivery?’

‘A load of rotting manure,’ Lucy groaned. ‘Adam helped to fork it off the cart, and by God does it stink! I can even smell it from the kitchen.’

‘You won’t grumble when I’ve dug it into the ground to produce fat cabbages and juicy carrots,’ Mary grinned. ‘Anyway, we had another sort of delivery today, didn’t we, Ben?’

Ben was absent-mindedly running the flat of his hand along the side of Lucy’s car. ‘Adam keeps this car beautiful,’ he said. ‘It’s a credit to him.’

‘Ben!’ Mary gave him a nudge. ‘I was just saying, we had another kind of delivery today, didn’t we?’

‘We certainly did … the first of the spring lambs decided to make an appearance,’ he announced proudly. ‘And we saw the whole thing, from birth to suckling.’

Mary eagerly imparted the bones of her little adventure. ‘I stroked its coat. I always thought it would be soft and downy,’ she told her mother excitedly, ‘but it was harsh to the touch, and tight as a coiled spring.’

‘I could have told you that,’ Lucy teased. ‘Your daddy once had a whole flock of sheep. Spring was always the best time, when the lambs were born and I could sit on the tree-stump by the edge of the woods and watch them frisking and leaping about.’

Before her memories could overwhelm her again, she announced briskly, ‘Come inside. I have something to tell you.’

By the time they strolled to the kitchen door, Adam was already there, washed and changed and looking apprehensive. ‘Hello, you two!’ he greeted them. Stepping aside, he waited for the family to pass before following them across the hallway and into the drawing room.

When they were all seated – Ben and Mary on the sofa together, Adam in the leather armchair and Lucy in the matching chair beside him, she told them all, ‘For a long time now, I’ve been toying with the idea of going back North.’ As she went on, the nervousness disappeared and a calm strength emerged. ‘It won’t be an easy thing for me to do. There will be other people living in Barney’s old house now, and strangers farming the land.’

She grew wistful, eyes downcast. ‘The memories will still be there though, in the fields and the cottage. Memories that will never leave me … such joy and regret, and oh, the laughter we all shared.’ Such laughter, such joy, friendship and the yearning for a man she believed could never be hers.

Swallowing hard, she looked up to see her daughter silently coaxing her to go on. Bracing herself, she cleared her throat and in a firm voice told them, ‘A visit is long overdue, and now with time seeming to pass ever more quickly, I won’t leave it any longer. I have a very old friend in Doctor Lucas, as I’m sure you’re all aware of by now. He knows me well,’ glancing at Adam, she instinctively reached out and took hold of his hand, ‘almost as well as my good friend, Adam.’

Turning a deep shade of pink, Adam smiled. ‘Doctor Lucas is a fine man,’ he remarked. ‘It will be good to see him again, I’m sure.’

Mary had a question for Lucy. ‘Have you told him you’re coming?’

‘Not yet, no.’

‘When do you intend going?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve only just made the decision. In a couple of weeks’ time, maybe? I’ll write to Doctor Lucas. There are any number of good hotels in the area.’

Mary had another question. ‘Mother?’

‘Yes, dear?’

‘Can we come with you – me and Ben?’

Lucy quickly reassured her. ‘I wouldn’t dream of going back without you,’ she said. ‘When we left there, you were too young to remember what it was like …’

Nostalgia flooded her senses. ‘I need to show you the fields where your daddy and the family worked alongside each other, and the cottage where we lived. I can’t wait to see Bridget, either. From her letters, she’s still full of life, with the dancing and the singing and the shameless flirting. She’s married four men and dumped them all one after the other, and doesn’t seem to have changed one bit. But oh, how wonderful it will be to see her again. I bet she’s grown old disgracefully, and made a fortune out of everything she’s ever touched.’

Ben was intrigued. ‘Have you never met up in all this time?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘Bridget’s been too busy making her fortune, and until now, I’ve never really mustered enough courage to go back.’ She laughed heartily. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting she looks exactly the same, and as far as I can tell, she’s still up to her old tricks, wheeling and dealing, and playing havoc with the men.’

Caught up in Lucy’s enthusiasm, Mary ran to sit on the arm of her mother’s chair. ‘Oh Mum, I’m longing to meet her! And I want to see it all – the fields and the cottage, and the river …’

She paused when Lucy looked at her through agonised eyes, almost as though her mother knew what was in her mind at that moment. ‘Will you take me to see where he is, Mother?’ Sliding a hand into Lucy’s, Mary gently persisted, ‘Will you take me to the churchyard where little Jamie lies?’

In her mind Lucy saw it all – that night, and the horror – and thrusting it to the back of her mind, she avoided the question. ‘So there you are, my dear,’ she said brightly, and turning to Ben, she asked, ‘You will come with us, won’t you, Ben?’

Just as she had hoped, Ben did not hesitate. ‘I’d like that. Thank you, Lucy.’

Lucy clapped her hands. ‘Good! That’s wonderful. I’m sure Adam will organise it all.’ She winked at him. ‘Of course, it would be nice to have a date for the wedding too, so we can start planning for that as well. Ben’s daughter Abbie will make a beautiful bridesmaid, don’t you think, Adam?’

Mary flung her two arms round her mother’s neck. ‘You’re a conniving old biddy,’ she chided, ‘but I wouldn’t swap you for the world.’

Lucy would not be deterred. ‘Well, Ben? Is there soon to be a wedding or not?’

Delighting in Lucy’s character, Ben promised, ‘I think you should get your hat and outfit ready. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it didn’t happen before too long, isn’t that right, Mary?’

Mimicking her mother, the girl was a little coy. ‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’ With that, she took her leave. ‘Who wants a cup of tea?’

For now, the discussion was over, but there was much to look forward to.

And much to fear.

Chapter 6

BRIDGET HAD TAKEN flowers to the churchyard every Saturday, and this Saturday was no different.

Twenty years ago, she had made a promise to a friend, and though she had been many things in her life, some of which she was not proud of, it was not in her nature to break a promise.

Stooping to lay down the posy of white and yellow narcissi, she dug into her pocket and took out a white envelope. Then she held it up, almost as though she thought little Jamie could see it. ‘I had a letter from yer mammy this morning,’ she murmured in her soft Irish lilt. ‘At long last, she’s coming to see us. What d’you think o’ that, eh? Ah, sure, it won’t be easy for yer mammy … what with a family in the cottage an’ the river only a spit away, as if nothing bad ever happened there. But we all know different, don’t we, eh?’

Drawing a deep breath through her nostrils, she blew it out in a great sigh. ‘Ah, but she’s a brave woman, yer mammy. After you were took, she went away with dear Barney. She made a new life and though we’ve written time and again, we’ve not clapped eyes on each other these many years.’

When a dewdrop appeared on the end of her nose she cuffed it away. ‘There’s a chill wind brewing,’ she said. ‘I’d best be going, or my knee will seize up again.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m not so young as I was, more’s the pity, but I can’t let the years get the better of me, ’cause once I do that, I’m finished.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Inside, I’m still the young woman who fought and clawed her way to the top.’

After rearranging the posy in a nicer position, she clambered to her feet, groaning as she straightened up. ‘The old bones are beginning to complain, but the mind’s as quick as it ever was.’ Bridget was thankful for the good health she enjoyed. It meant she could keep to her schedule and stay one step ahead of advancing years.

She rubbed her sore knees and for a moment was quiet in contemplation. ‘In some ways it might be better if yer mammy never came back, poor wee thing,’ she said, ‘but then I wouldn’t see her, would I? An’ she wouldn’t see you, an’ that would be a terrible shame, especially when it’s taken her so long to make this particular journey.’

The man’s kindly voice startled her. ‘You know what they say about people who talk to themselves?’

Swinging round, she almost fell over. ‘Jaysus! I almost had a heart attack. What d’you want to creep up on me like that for?’

The man apologised. ‘I wasn’t creeping up on you,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I’ve seen you so often down here, I thought I might come up and say hello.’

Slim and tidy, with a pleasant bearded face, something about him jogged Bridget’s memory. ‘Have I seen ye somewhere before?’ she asked. ‘You look familiar.’

He laughed at that. ‘Isn’t that what the men are supposed to say when they see a woman who takes their fancy?’

Bridget could see the funny side. ‘Ah well now, it’s not that I’m after taking your fancy,’ she joked in return. ‘I really do believe I’ve seen ye somewheres before.’

Offering the hand of friendship, he introduced himself. ‘The name’s Oliver Rogers.’

Bridget shook his hand. ‘An’ how d’you do then, Oliver Rogers.’ Suddenly she was blushing to the roots of her hair. ‘Ah, now I know where I’ve seen ye. That’s it! You used to visit my old place … Gawd Almighty! Sure, that’s more years ago than I care to remember.’

He laughed. ‘You’re right. It must be at least twenty-four years since I climbed the steps to spend an hour or so with one of your girls.’

Bridget nodded. ‘If I remember aright, you always asked for Judy.’

‘That’s right, I did.’ He seemed embarrassed. ‘But only because she was the nearest to you I could get … same red hair and that wonderful bubbly nature. It was always you I wanted, Bridget. You were the loveliest of them all, but you were always just out of reach.’

Like a young schoolgirl on her first date, Bridget protested, ‘Away with you! Why would you want me, when you could have the pick of my girls?’

He gazed at her for a moment, before answering softly, ‘We can’t help who we fall in love with, can we?’

For the first time in her life, Bridget was lost for words. When she did speak, her voice was alive with anger. ‘Soft talk, is it? I expect you’ve found out that I’ve made it good and you want a slice of it. Well, aren’t you the cunning blighter, eh? In love with me, you say? Hmh! I know what you’re after, so I do.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘I’m far too canny to fall for all that nonsense, so ye’d best be on yer way, before ye see a side to me you wouldn’t like! Go on, be off with you! I’ve no wish to renew our acquaintance. What’s more, I can’t be wasting the day talking to the likes o’ you. I’m a busy woman, so I am.’

With that she turned on her heel and went smartly down the path, muttering to herself and cursing. ‘Bloody maniac! Coming up behind me like that. Does he think I were born yesterday? Sure, I’ve worked hard to get where I am today. I started with nothing and fought my way up. Now I’ve got a good life and a healthy bank-balance, I’m not about to share it with some crafty, grasping old bugger!’

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