Читать книгу Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection - Josephine Cox - Страница 20

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Lucy’s week started all over again.

Rising early, she had her wash and got dressed; then she made her bed and collected the child from his cot.

With that done she sat him in his chair at the table, made his porridge and while he plastered his hands and face with that, she burned herself a piece of toast which she covered in Vicky’s homemade strawberry jam. ‘Your Auntie Vicky makes the best jam in the world,’ she told the child, who was far too busy licking his chubby fingers to pay attention.

‘I need you to be on your best behaviour,’ she coaxed. ‘There’s work to be done in Long Field, harvesting the spuds, and it’s a case of all hands to the deck. The crop is ready to be taken in, Barney says. The plants have died off and the soil is good and dry.’

This would be her first close experience of working on the land, and she was really looking forward to it.

She glanced at the mantelpiece clock. ‘We need to be away from here by seven,’ she took a great bite of her toast, ‘so eat up, little fella, then I’ll give you a drink and get you washed, and we’ll be on our way.’ Reaching over the table she tickled him under the chin, and the little boy giggled. ‘Vicky said she would make up a picnic for when we stop to eat. We’ll have it down by the river, that’s what she said – and won’t that be lovely, eh?’

In fact, life itself was so wonderful these days, she could hardly believe her good fortune.

During the next half-hour, Lucy went about her chores; she cleared and washed the breakfast things while Jamie played, then took her son and washed him, made sure she had everything they needed, then strapped him into his pram and parked him outside on the path while she secured the cottage behind her.

Taking the bridle path up to Overhill Farm, she found the going hard; one minute she was pushing the pram and the next she was pulling it, until her arms ached from shoulder to wrist. But it was such a beautiful day, she didn’t mind a bit. Besides, little Jamie was in his element, laughing and chuckling, until he eventually fell asleep and all she could hear were the birds singing and the river bubbling over the boulders.

As they came through the spinney, the terrain became easier. Well-worn by travellers and locals alike, in parts the meandering walkway was rough and bumpy underfoot, but for the most part it was easy going. From the cottage to the farm, it took exactly twenty minutes; Lucy had timed herself on the first day.

‘Vicky!’ Waving as she approached the house, Lucy saw Barney’s wife hanging out the washing. ‘I’m not too late, am I?’

Waving back, Vicky took the wooden pegs out of her mouth. ‘The boys have already gone to the fields,’ she replied. ‘Barney’s taken Susie into town for her hat-making, and he’ll come back straight after. We won’t be needed for a little while yet.’

She was finished with the washing. ‘My! You put me to shame!’ she exclaimed. ‘You look lovely, Lucy. Bright and fresh as a daisy.’

It was true. Lucy did look very fetching in the long dark skirt and loose white blouse, worn to work in the fields, and something about the way she had swept her hair back into a thick plait made her seem almost childlike. ‘And look at me – hands red from rubbing the sheets in the dolly-tub, and hair all over the place. I must look terrible,’ Vicky laughed ruefully.

‘You don’t look any such thing!’ Lucy would have none of it. She looked at Vicky with her sun-kissed hair and those wonderful expressive grey eyes, and all she saw was beauty and goodness. ‘You always look lovely,’ she said honestly. ‘It’s right what Barney says: you couldn’t help but look pretty, even if you’d just come up from the coal-mines.’

Vicky laughed. ‘That’s my Barney,’ she said. ‘He looks at me through rose-coloured glasses and can’t see the wood for the trees.’

‘That’s because he loves you.’ Lucy wondered if she would ever find that kind of love. ‘I’ve never known anyone love his woman, like Barney loves you.’

For a moment Vicky was silenced by Lucy’s profound words. ‘I love him the same way,’ she quietly confessed. ‘Sometimes it frightens me, the way Barney believes we’ll always be together. The thing is, Lucy, when you’re part of each other, like me and Barney, there can never be a happy ending. Someone is bound to be sad at the end of it all.’

When she looked up, there was a kind of desolation in her grey eyes. ‘You see, when either of us is taken, the one left behind will be totally lost.’

Lucy was amazed at the depth of pain in Vicky’s voice, in her eyes, in her whole demeanour. ‘You’re neither of you going anywhere!’ she declared stoutly, in an attempt to break the moment. ‘Not until you’ve made me enough strawberry jam to last me into old age, any road.’

The mood broke and Vicky laughed out loud. ‘If you like it that much, you’d best take another jar from the pantry.’ She then threw the pegs into her big basket and placing it under her arm, she put her other arm through Lucy’s. ‘Come on, you.’ Her smile was content. ‘The water’s already hot in the kettle, it’ll take but a minute to bring it back to the boil. We’ve time enough for a brew before we roll up our sleeves.’

In truth, both Vicky and Lucy had already had their sleeves rolled up these past two hours and more. All the same, it was nice to take time out for a cuppa and a chat, all girls together, and that was exactly what they did. ‘Bridget came to see me yesterday,’ Lucy imparted, grinning at the memory. ‘You should have seen her, all done up in a new outfit and a hat like you could never imagine.’

Vicky took a gulp of her tea. ‘Got herself a fancy man, has she?’ Vicky was a broadminded woman who respected Bridget for her kindness, and welcomed her, when other townsfolk looked down their noses at her.

‘Seems like that.’

While they drank their tea and Jamie slept on, Lucy relayed the gossip and the two of them hoped that Bridget had found a man who would take care of her, for she was a good-hearted woman and not as young as she used to be.

Twenty minutes later, with both tea and gossip done, they set about the daily chores; Lucy seeing to the bathroom upstairs and making up the beds with fresh-laundered linen while Jamie ‘helped’ her, and Vicky tackling the work downstairs.

Some short time later, with the house all spick and span, they made their way to the fields, where Barney and his sons were already halfway down the potato field. Armed with light forks, each of them raised up the secret treasure of the potatoes, hidden beneath the rich soil. They were beauties – no sign of rot or infestation – and Barney was delighted. A bumper crop might cheer Mr Maitland who had been looking very preoccupied of late.

‘RONNIE!’ Barney’s voice could be heard shouting instructions to the younger of his two sons. ‘Stop messing about and get on with it.’ With the work piling up, Barney was in no mood for frivolous behaviour. ‘We’ve the rest of this field to do yet!’

Unlike his father and brother Tom, Ronnie, free-spirited and happy-go-lucky, was too easily distracted. He would collect the potatoes in the barrow lined with sacking, then wheel it to the barn, where the crop was stored in the dark and cool, and on the way back, he’d lark about, talking to the horse in the next field and playing tricks on his brother.

‘He’s a good lad,’ Vicky remarked tolerantly as she and Lucy made their way to the men. ‘But he still has a lot of growing up to do yet.’

Thrilled to be here, Lucy soaked up the atmosphere. Her attention drawn every which way, she took it all in: Barney’s familiar figure bent over the long trench; the sunlight bouncing off the tines of the men’s forks; the seemingly endless skies, and the bright warm sunshine. Here, now, it was as though she and Jamie and Barney’s family were the only people in the whole wide world.

‘Fine crop of spuds this year.’ Having worked many seasons alongside Barney, Vicky spoke from experience.

As Barney took his turn with the barrow, he shouted, ‘Are you here to watch, or work?’ He went away laughing. ‘You’re no good to me if all you’ve come to do is admire the scenery.’

‘Cheeky devil!’ Vicky yelled after him. ‘Another remark like that and you can do the spuds on your own, ’cause we’d rather be in Liverpool, strolling round the shops!’

Vicky and Barney could bandy insults without getting offended. It was part of their deep knowledge of each other.

The hours passed too quickly and every experience was new to Lucy. Working and laughing, stumbling in the trenches and clambering up again, getting into a rhythm with the digging, with the sun on her face and the cooling breeze a welcome relief. She wanted this day never to end.

‘I’ll be glad when we stop for a break.’ Vicky paused to wipe the sweat from her brow. ‘I’m all in.’ She stroked Jamie’s hair as he squealed, pointing excitedly to a worm. They were surrounded by birds, swooping down as the tubers were revealed.

A short time later and aching through every bone, Barney paused to stretch his limbs. Taking out his pocket-watch he glanced at the time. ‘Good Lord! Why didn’t somebody tell me it was nearly one o’clock?’

To everyone’s relief he called for a break, at the same time taking the opportunity to slide his arm round his wife’s waist and give her a resounding kiss. ‘I’m proud of the three of you,’ he told Vicky, Lucy and Jamie. ‘I might even go so far as to say you’re as good as the men …’ At that moment he saw Ronnie throw himself down some way off, to lie flat under a tree. ‘And maybe better than most,’ he added with a light-hearted groan.

Ronnie was the first to answer. ‘Not bad,’ he said airily. ‘It took Lucy a while to get the hang of it, but she got there in the end.’

‘They did well.’ Thomas gave his dad a knowing wink. ‘In fact, they did so well, I reckon us men should go home and leave them to it. Come on, Jamie.’

‘You mind we don’t leave you three to it.’ Vicky rose to their teasing. ‘Here.’ She thrust a greaseproof pack of sandwiches at each of them. ‘These should quieten you down.’

Everyone took off their sacking aprons and quickly sluiced their hands with water from a big enamel pitcher, before sitting down and unwrapping their lunch.

The break, though short, was a pleasure, not only because they were famished and the thick sandwiches filled with cheese, ham and pickle were delicious, but because the company was pleasant and the day glorious. ‘What about you, Lucy?’ Barney addressed Lucy who had fed the child and was now preparing his drink. ‘Have you enjoyed your first-hand experience of market-gardening?’

‘It’s tiring,’ Lucy admitted. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever ached so much in all my life, but oh yes, Barney, I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed it.’ She cuddled the child. ‘Jamie’s enjoyed it too,’ she said fondly. ‘Though he didn’t like being strapped in his pram for most of the time.’

‘Well, I’m proud of you,’ Barney said, and without hesitation the others echoed his sentiments.

With the food all gone, Ronnie and his brother went for a quick dip in the river, to wash the dust and grime from their backs. ‘Don’t be long,’ Barney called after them. ‘We’ll need to work till dark as it is.’

Shortly afterwards, Vicky followed with the plates and cutlery. ‘I’ll give these a rinse in the water,’ she told Lucy. ‘I don’t fancy the flies plaguing us all the way home.’

Left alone with Lucy and the child, who had dozed off, Barney helped to clear the picnic things away. ‘How are things,’ he enquired, ‘really?’

‘Things are fine, thank you, Barney.’ Though she had good friends in Bridget and the girls, Barney and Vicky were the only people she could really talk to; especially Barney. He had such a way with him, naturally attentive and caring, that Lucy felt she could tell him anything.

‘So, did you do the right thing in moving out to the cottage?’ Looking tired and worn, he leaned against the tree.

‘It was the best thing I ever did, and it’s all thanks to you and your family,’ she answered.

Taking a rag out of his trouser pocket, Barney wiped the sweat from his face. ‘And you’re content, are you, working at the house with Vicky, and labouring in the fields under an Indian summer sun?’ he grinned. ‘Seems to me, we’ve thrown you in at the deep end.’

Lucy smiled. ‘Oh Barney, I’m more than content. I don’t know how I can ever thank you both.’

‘No thanks necessary,’ he answered softly. ‘Just to see you smile like that, and know you’re settled – that’s more than enough.’ Barney looked down on her and thought what a lovely woman she was.

‘You and Vicky, you can’t know what you’ve done for me,’ Lucy persisted. ‘I’ve never been so happy.’

‘It’s only right that you should be happy.’ In a fit of coughing, he turned away, scarlet in the face. Lucy passed him a cup of water. When the coughing fit passed, he addressed her again, his voice still a little hoarse. ‘You worked well today, lass.’ He didn’t look round. ‘I want you to know how much I appreciate that.’

‘Barney, can I talk to you?’

The young woman’s anxious voice caused him to swing round. ‘Of course you can. What is it?’

Hesitating, she shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s nothing – I’m sorry.’ Suddenly it seemed foolish to voice what was in her mind.

Concerned, he came to kneel beside her. ‘Come on, tell me, love. What’s wrong?’

Lucy looked at him, at his strong, kind face and the endearing look in his eyes and she opened her heart to him. ‘I’m afraid, Barney … so afraid.’

‘What d’you mean? What have you to be afraid of?’ His expression hardened. ‘That bugger Trent isn’t back again, is he, because if he’s bothering you …’

Lucy shook her head. ‘No, he’s not back – at least not that I know of.’ She gave a wry little smile, her heart sinking at the memory. ‘After the cowardly way he ran, I shouldn’t think he’ll ever show his face round here again.’

‘So what are you afraid of?’

In a small voice she told him, ‘It might sound silly to you, Barney, but I feel I’m too happy, and I’m afraid because something is bound to go wrong, I just know it is.’

‘Aw, Lucy girl! Come here to me.’ Taking her in his arms, he held her close. ‘Nothing will go wrong. I won’t let it – Vicky won’t let it. The worst is over for you now. We’ve got you safe with us.’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘Promise me, Lucy, that whenever you’re feeling worried you’ll talk to me or Vicky. Promise me you won’t ever be afraid to share what’s on your mind.’

Her heart full, Lucy slowly nodded her head.

‘That’s my girl.’ He rumpled her hair, and let her go.

A few minutes later, at Barney’s suggestion, she left the child with him and made her way to the river. Here, she dropped to her knees and washed her grubby neck and face. Her fingernails were grimed with mud; she’d deal with them later.

She was shaking the river-drops from her hands when she heard a noise some way further along the river. She turned her head and there, where the weir rushed down and tumbled amongst the larger boulders, she saw Thomas and Ronnie clamber out of the water, their muscular well-toned bodies magnificently naked.

Until that moment, she had seen them as merely Barney and Vicky’s two young sons: Thomas, serious and deep-thinking, and Ronnie a bit crazy – a daredevil ready to have a go at anything.

Now she saw them as men in their own right, and it came as a bit of a shock to her senses.

Climbing to where they had laid their clothes, Tom and Ronnie took up their shirts and began drying themselves while, blushing to the roots of her hair, Lucy took flight and did not stop running until she was back to base.

It was the very first time she had ever seen a man stripped off; even when Edward Trent had made love to her, it was a case of undoing his trouser-buttons and lifting her skirt. A virgin when she had met him at the age of twenty-seven, in many ways Lucy was still sexually inexperienced. She had only known brief couplings with Edward, which had heated her blood and brought her a child, but the richness and depth of married physical love was unknown territory.

She knew now that what she had experienced was not lovemaking in the way it should have been; it was pure lust and nothing more, and she felt ashamed at having thought it was ever anything else.

As she neared her son, still sleeping in his pram, she was amazed to find that there was no sign of Barney. She stood a moment, eyes scouring the area. That was strange. She hadn’t thought that Barney would ever go off and leave Jamie on his own.

Suddenly she could hear him, or at least she could hear something, because the harsh, rasping sounds were not human. They were more like the cries of some unfortunate animal caught in a trap.

Leaving Jamie, she cautiously followed the sounds, and there, doubled up against the side of the tractor, was Barney. Obviously in pain and fighting for breath, he looked a frightful sight. Lucy ran to him. ‘Barney – what in God’s name is wrong?’

Breathless and exhausted, he couldn’t speak, but when he looked her in the eye, she saw the anguish there and her heart turned somersaults. ‘Don’t … tell … Vicky,’ he gasped.

Lucy gave no answer. Instead she held him until he was fully recovered, at which point he repeated his plea. ‘Lucy … you mustn’t tell Vicky about this. She’ll only worry, and it’s unnecessary.’

Lucy wasn’t too sure about that. ‘But you’re ill!’ she told him gently. ‘You couldn’t breathe – could hardly stand up on your own two feet!’ Seeing him like that had given her a scare. ‘You’re wrong, Barney,’ she told him. ‘Vicky should know about this.’ When she saw the look of panic on his face, she assured him, ‘All right, I won’t tell her. But you must.’

‘There’s no need!’ Barney was recovering his strength now. ‘I’m not ill. It’s something to do with handling the tubers. They don’t agree with me. Summat about them gets in and clogs up my lungs, hampers my breathing and makes me feel bad. It comes on quickly and goes away the same. Like I say, there’s nothing to worry about. Right now, lass, let’s get back to yon bairn. I’m sorry I left him, pet – didn’t want to wake him, see?’

‘All right, Barney, if you’re sure.’ She could see how agitated he had got when he believed she might tell the family.

‘Look at me, Lucy.’ Raising his arms, Barney let his hands fall to her shoulders, his smile quick and confident. ‘You can see for yourself, I’m right as rain now. It was a coughing fit, that’s all it was. I won’t have Vicky or anyone else worrying about something and nothing.’

Lucy didn’t argue. In fact, she was amazed at how quickly he had recovered. One minute he had looked so ill, she feared for his life, and the next he seemed fine. ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’

He nodded. ‘Like I said, right as rain.’

Believing she might have over-reacted, Lucy took him at his word. Besides, though his colour wasn’t fully returned, he did seem fine now.

Barney called her attention to the three approaching figures; the two sons in front, obviously not aware that their mother was some distance behind. ‘Remember,’ he urged. ‘Not a word.’

While they were looking across the field, they saw the figure of a man standing beneath the dipping boughs of a tree. ‘It’s the boss, come to keep an eye on us,’ Barney said jokingly.

So, while Leonard Maitland watched the family, Barney and Lucy watched him. ‘What the devil’s he up to?’ Like Lucy, Barney was intrigued.

‘I expect he’s been out for a long walk and is taking a rest in the shade,’ she answered.

Barney laughed. ‘He may well be,’ he remarked, adding tongue-in-cheek, ‘He’s also taking a long, leisurely look at my woman.’ Thrusting his hands into his pockets he seemed a proud man. ‘I should’ve told him,’ he said casually.

‘Told him what?’ It had not occurred to Lucy that Leonard Maitland was watching Vicky in particular, but now she could see that while he rested from the heat, Leonard Maitland did in fact seem more preoccupied with Vicky who, unaware of his interest, walked on, the plates cradled in her arms and with eyes only for Barney.

Like the cat that got the cream, Barney wore a smile from ear to ear. ‘I should have warned him,’ he said. ‘Every man that’s ever clapped eyes on my Vicky has fallen head over heels in love with her.’ His eyes shone with joy as he watched her drawing nearer. ‘And all she ever wanted were me … a farm worker who owns nothing and never will.’

His eyes widened with a rush of astonishment. ‘What she ever saw in me, I’ll never know.’ His voice dropping to a whisper, he spoke as though to himself. ‘I just thank the Lord for bringing the two of us together.’

As always, whenever she witnessed the love between these two people, Lucy was humbled. She saw the adoration in Barney’s eyes and the joy in Vicky’s face as she waved to him.

Vicky may have been aware of Leonard Maitland or she may not. But it was Barney she was looking at. Barney, her man, her everything. She was one side of the coin; he was the other.

‘Look! He’s going now.’ Lucy brought his attention to Leonard Maitland’s retreating figure.

Barney made no comment just then, but he noticed how Leonard Maitland continually glanced back at Vicky. And who could blame him, Barney thought as he brought his own tender gaze to the kind, caring woman he adored.

Vicky always looked lovely, he thought, but today she was especially beautiful with the breeze playing round the hem of her skirt, lifting it and twirling it, her golden hair blown gently back from her happy face, oh and that smile. Even now after all these years, he could hardly believe that Vicky was his wife. From the moment he had first seen her, he wanted no other. And he never would, for the kind of love they shared came only once in a lifetime.

Shortly afterwards, Barney’s mate Adam arrived. ‘I’ve finished thatching Widow Mason’s porch,’ he told Barney, ‘so I wondered if you might have use for another pair of hands?’

Barney thanked him. ‘The more the merrier, matey,’ he said, and his pal threw off his jacket and got to work.

Tired and sweating under the hot sun, Lucy soon forgot Leonard Maitland and his seeming infatuation with Vicky. Barney, however, for good reason kept it quietly at the back of his mind.

Leonard Maitland needed a drink.

Having hurried home, tired and hot, he had rushed in, closed the door to shut out the world, and was now helping himself to a small whisky. ‘God knows what they must have thought!’ he muttered, gulping down the drink. ‘Me standing there, gawping at another man’s wife like some lovesick fool!’

Deep in thought, he wandered across the room, images of Vicky filling his mind: running, tripping, laughing, she was the essence of womanhood. Yet he had other, more urgent things to think about. A few days ago, he had received a letter from America, to do with his late grandfather’s estate in Boston, Massachusetts. It seemed he might have to fight to retain the old man’s house and lands. Things were happening which could send it either way. If it went one particular way, it could mean him selling up in this country and making a new life over there. Leonard had spent months at a time in his youth with his maternal grandfather, Farley Kemp, on the thousand-acre farm. He loved it out there – although his English heritage meant that he loved it here, too, east of the Mersey.

He considered for a moment. If he went to America, would he take Patricia with him? And what of Barney and his family … and Vicky? Leonard might be well-off financially, but he didn’t have endless funds. The last thing he wanted to do was put Barney out of work, but he might not be able to avoid it.

If he had to, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep it all together. But there were things happening out there which could mean he had little choice. If it went one particular way, it could mean his having to sell up in England and make a new life in Boston, America.

He considered the prospect for a moment. He would almost welcome the challenge. It would mean he could keep his grandfather’s beautiful house and vast estates. He had worked his way up from a farm-labourer to create one of the most successful businesses in Boston. Besides that, it was a wonderful home, warm and welcoming, filled with happiness and contentment, the kind of which he’d never really known.

The memories still came flooding back. When he was a child, the highlight of his year was going to see his grandparents. Those amazing weeks when he was there were the happiest of his life. His grandfather would take him across the estate; sometimes on the back of his horse and later Leonard would ride alongside him on a pony, and oh, what adventures they’d get up to … racing each other across the headlands; climbing trees or riding to the top of a hill, so his grandfather could show him the house and lands from a distance, and even then they could never see the horizons of what belonged to him … lands that were loved and tended, houses and homesteads nestling in the valleys, and cattle by the hundreds; all this, all painstakingly, lovingly forged out of nothing, with only the strength of his own two hands and the heart of a lion.

He closed his eyes, his emotions in turmoil. When his grandfather lost his wife, he lost all sense of purpose, and now everything he worked so hard for was at risk.

Going to the armchair, Leonard sat down and gazed into space for what seemed an age. He gathered his thoughts and knew what he must do. He wouldn’t let it be lost. He couldn’t let them take it. He didn’t have so much here to fight for, but he could try and save his grandfather’s dream, and given the chance, that’s what he’d do! Getting out of the chair, he smiled, at ease with himself. ‘I think it’s time I had a new life, a new direction. There is little to hold me here. I’ve gone as far as I can go, and now it’s time to face up to a new challenge.’

Dipping into his pocket, he took out a long, official-looking envelope with an American stamp. Unfolding the letter he began to read:

Dear Mr Maitland,

I am pleased to inform you that certain matters relating to the estate of your grandfather, the late Mr Farley Kemp, are now settled. However, several important issues remain which demand your urgent attention. As you are the only surviving relative of the deceased, it is imperative that you contact me as soon as possible, with a view to visiting these offices, in order that these issues can be dealt with.

As you must be aware, time is of the essence, and the situation requires that you be here in person.

I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest opportunity.

Yours sincerely,

Justin Lovatt, Attorney-at-Law

Leonard knew the letter word for word, for hadn’t he read it umpteen times since receiving it? Tomorrow, he must make arrangements to travel.

‘What’s that you’re reading?’ Patricia’s voice shocked him, invading his thoughts.

‘Pat! Good God – I didn’t hear you come in.’ He swiftly folded the letter and slid it into his pocket. He hadn’t heard the taxi pull up in the driveway.

Crossing the room, she slid her arm through his. ‘Is it something I should know about, darling?’

He gave a nervous laugh. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because just now when I came in, you looked so worried, and as I’m soon to be your wife, I should know what is bothering you.’

‘Really?’ He tested her. ‘And if I were to tell you that I might have to make a difficult choice – a life-changing choice – what would you say to that?’

‘It would depend.’

‘Why’s that?’

Growing flustered, she dislodged herself from his embrace. ‘Well, for all I know it might change my life, and I don’t know that I would be too keen on that.’

‘Not even if it meant you and I would be together? Isn’t that all that matters when a man and woman are in love?’

Something in his manner, in the way he was looking at her, made her nervous. ‘No,’ she answered defensively. ‘Being in love isn’t all that matters. What matters is that we both should be happy.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, although he felt her resistance and was unnerved. ‘But what if the choice I have to make is not really a choice at all, but something I feel obliged to do?’

She considered that for a moment, then like a child who wasn’t sure of how to respond, she used her wiles and going to him, slid an arm round his waist. ‘I think you had best tell me what you were reading, just now,’ she wheedled.

‘I’d rather not, Patricia. It isn’t altogether settled, and it may not come to anything anyway.’

‘Hmh! You’re not about to do anything that would make me unhappy, are you, my darling?’ she pleaded prettily. ‘I mean, you will let me have my say in this choice of yours, won’t you?’

Holding her at arm’s length, he answered wisely, ‘Of course you will have a say. But, like I said, there may not even be any choice to make. I won’t know that, until I return from America.’

‘America?’ At once she was all smiles, confident that she would be going with him. ‘I knew if I kept on at you long enough, you would take me away, but America!’ She laughed excitedly. ‘What an adventure that will be! When do we leave?’

Seeing her pleasure, Leonard was half-tempted to take her with him. He thought that if she saw the vast and beautiful land outside Charlestown and the sprawling house his grandfather had built over the years, she might grow to like the prospect of moving there. But commonsense prevailed, and he said merely, ‘I’m sorry, Pat, but I shall be tending to important business. I can’t take you with me this time. It’s deuced inconvenient as it is, leaving Comberton at this time of the year.’

‘Oh, come on, Leonard! What business do you need to tend that means I can’t come along? We are to be married after all, aren’t we?’

‘Of course we are, but I simply can’t take you, not this time. Look, when I get back, I promise we’ll see about a weekend in Paris – would that suit you?’

‘No, it would not.’ Giving him a frosty look, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the door. ‘I have shopping to do in Manchester. I imagine I’ll be gone for at least four hours. That should give you plenty of time to decide whether I come with you or not.’

When he heard the front door slam, Leonard walked to the window, from where he could see Patricia climb into the taxi. She did not look back, but somehow that did not concern him.

Instead, he took out the letter and read it through again.

‘No, Patricia,’ he said aloud. ‘I won’t take you with me.’ His mind was made up. The reason he was going to America was too important. This wasn’t just about him and Patricia.

Thrusting his hands into his pockets he began to pace the room, his thoughts and loyalties all churned up. The decision was something he had to make by himself. If it turned out that there was, after all, no choice to make, then so be it. But if it came to a head, then he had to think of others who would inevitably be affected.

The people who had been loyal to him over the years, these were the people uppermost in his mind right now. He thought of Barney, that good man, and his heart was sore. Then he thought of Vicky, of maybe never seeing her again, and the prospect was unbearable. He found himself searching for a way that would allow him to take the Davidsons with him, but at the moment that seemed quite unrealistic.

His thoughts then flew ahead, and his heart sank. Whatever the outcome of his visit across the Atlantic, there was still Patricia.

And so far he had not decided what to do about her.