Читать книгу Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection - Josephine Cox - Страница 48

LUCY HAD RETURNED home to Salford with the intention of writing to Vicky at the earliest opportunity.

Unsure of how to start, she took a moment to reflect.

Looking out across the garden of Knudsden House, her mind was alive with memories of her incredibly eventful life. Where had they gone, all those years? How did they fly away, without her even noticing?

Tears of regret burned her eyes. Fate was so cruel. She brought you joy, filled your heart with love and hope, then just when you were beginning to feel safe and content, you turned around and it had all been taken away from you.

Releasing a great sigh that seemed to move her very soul, she stood before the desk in the sitting room, her gaze falling to the blank page awaiting her, her voice whisper-soft as she spoke her thoughts aloud. ‘Oh Vicky, I’m so sorry!’

Slowly shaking her head, she let her gaze momentarily drift to Barney’s photograph. For a long, agonising moment she soaked the contours of his familiar features into her senses, the bright eyes, the winning smile, the wonderful energy in his face. Such a man, she thought. Such a joy.

She returned to his smile, though whilst his was sunny, her smile was sad. ‘You should never have left me,’ she chided. ‘Oh, dear God, Barney! Look how long I waited to be with you … then suddenly one day when I wasn’t looking, you were gone.’

When emotion threatened to overwhelm her, she sat herself down at the desk, and picked up her fountain pen.

Three times she started the letter, and three times she tore it up and threw the remnants in the waste-paper bin.

Leaning back in the chair she closed her eyes, let her mind reshape her thoughts and started again.

My dearest Vicky,

I know this letter and its contents will come as a shock to you, and for that I deeply apologise. But there is something you should know.

All those years ago, you left for America, wrongly believing that Barney had forsaken you. He made you think he did not love you or his children, that he wanted rid of you all. You must have been heartbroken. I can’t even begin to imagine how desperately hard it was for you.

Sadly, Barney had a reason for wanting to make you believe he had turned bad. I knew the truth and I wanted to tell you, but I could not, until now …

Throwing down her pen, she snatched up this page, too, and tore it into the tiniest fragments. ‘It’s not right!’ She was angry, with Vicky for not being here where she could explain face to face, with Barney for having created such a dilemma, and with herself for not being strong enough to do what she knew in her deepest heart must be done.

‘Why can’t I say the right things?’ she asked herself. ‘Why can’t I say them in a way that won’t cause her any more heartache?’

She gave a wry little laugh. Look at her – trying to protect Vicky, when what she really wanted to say was that, whatever Barney had done or said, Vicky should have trusted and loved him enough to know that when everything bad was happening, she should have questioned it more. As his wife, Vicky should have known that being cruel or spiteful was not in Barney’s nature.

Pushing the chair back, Lucy began to pace the room, her own heart beating fast in agitation. Vicky should never have left him! Never have doubted him! When he needed her, she should have been there for him. Instead, his wife had left him alone … deserted him and sailed to the other side of the world, just when he needed her the most.

After a time, anger and confusion subsided. She regained her composure and returned to sit at the desk, where she laid out a clean sheet of paper and began to write. ‘It has to be done,’ she murmured as she formulated her thoughts. ‘Painful or not, Barney’s family must be made aware of the truth.’

As she wrote, the years rolled away and memories sharpened into focus: of Barney, Vicky, their three lovely children and the times they all enjoyed together.

Though determined not to avoid what she now considered to be her duty, Lucy was later to recall writing that letter as one of the most painful episodes in her life.

The room was small. Smelling of new polish and aging leather, it had magnificent panelled walls and narrow high windows, and behind the long table, the four men talked amongst themselves in whispers.

Eventually one by one they straightened their shoulders and all raised their heads to look at Edward Trent; though of course he was known to them as Edward Carter.

‘Pay attention, Carter,’ the Governor snapped. ‘We have looked at the facts and examined your record here. Unfortunately, it seems you have excelled yourself in making trouble and undermining the discipline of this establishment.’

Grim-faced and unforgiving, the man who spoke recognised that he had a personal dislike of this particular prisoner; though it would jeopardise his own position if he was not seen to be impartial. ‘In our view, and it is unanimous, your record is such that you should consider yourself fortunate not to have your sentence lengthened. You’re a threat to every prisoner here; whenever there have been stabbings or punishment attacks, your name comes up time and again.’

His expression hardened. ‘We know you’re behind it, Carter, but you have such cunning that so far you’ve managed to escape blame.’

He finished with a dire warning. ‘You’re being watched, man. It’s only a matter of time before you’re caught red-handed.’

His stiff gaze rested on the prisoner a moment longer, before stamping the document with a flourish. ‘Appeal denied!’

Instructing the officer to take him away, he was deeply shaken when at the door, the prisoner turned to stare at him, and in those brooding eyes, he saw a glimmer of pure evil.

With the prisoner gone and the room plunged into silence, he turned to the men around him. ‘There goes a bad lot!’

‘He deserves to be locked up for good,’ said one. ‘Two men scarred for life; another terrorised out of his mind, and another in hospital for three months. And we all know who’s responsible.’

‘Yes, but he’s so devious,’ said another. ‘The other prisoners are in such fear, we’ve never been able to prove anything against him.’

The Governor had to agree with his colleagues. ‘We all know he’s the culprit, and so far we’ve managed to keep him detained. But I’m very much afraid there will come a time when we can’t keep him under lock and key.’ Anger coloured his voice. ‘Unless he happens to slip up, or some brave man steps forward to point the finger.’

There was a lull in the conversation, during which every man there felt helpless.

When after a few moments someone spoke out, it was with deadly earnestness. ‘So, what you’re saying is, we may have to let him go, the next time he’s brought before us?’

A quieter voice intervened. ‘Even if he gets out, he’ll be back soon enough. A man like that … it’s only a matter of time before he kills.’