Читать книгу Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber - Josephine Cox - Страница 15

KATHY WAS AWAKE bright and early. She washed and dressed, tidied round and, taking her small cache of belongings, made her way down to the reception desk.

The clerk was still half-asleep, yawning and rubbing her hair until it looked as if it belonged to some scarecrow in a field. ‘Was everything all right?’ she asked wearily. For one irritating minute she thought Kathy was there to complain.

Placing the caravan keys on the desk, Kathy smiled. ‘Everything was just fine,’ she said, and it was, because now that she’d had a good night’s sleep she was ready for anything. ‘Where can I get breakfast?’

The clerk groaned with disgust. ‘Oh, however can you eat so early in the morning?’

‘It must be the sea air,’ Kathy answered, ‘it seems to have given me an appetite.’ She laughed. ‘My friend Maggie swears I could eat anyone under the table.’

The young clerk observed Kathy’s slim figure. ‘Don’t you ever get fat?’ she asked enviously.

Kathy shook her head. ‘Not yet, I haven’t. But I’ll probably spread out like a balloon once I hit forty.’ She laughed at the girl’s wide-eyed disbelief. ‘To tell the truth, I seem to be able to eat whatever I like and it makes no difference. Maggie hates me. She has to watch every mouthful she eats, or she piles on the pounds in no time.’

‘I’m the same. Lucky you,’ the clerk grumbled. ‘And you’ll find the dining room is just opening.’ Pointing to a side door, she suggested helpfully, ‘To avoid you going back out and in through the main doors, you can go that way. You’ll see the dining room straight ahead of you.’

Heeding the directions, Kathy followed her nose, the aroma of hot food taking her through the entrance hall and into a small dining room. Observing the military rows of square laminated tables, she marched through to where the food was only now being set out. There was a basket of toast, and several other hot dishes each containing a good helping of porridge, tomatoes and sausages. There was also a box of cereal.

At the end of the table, there was a fat man frying a couple of eggs on the hotplate. ‘Just one, please.’ Taking up a plate, Kathy held it out. ‘Turned over and well done.’

Sour-faced, the man scooped up a juicy egg and dropped it onto her plate; dripping in fat, it almost slid straight off the other side, save for a nifty backstep by Kathy. ‘Sorry, luv.’ He looked wretched, as though he’d been out all night on the tiles.

Reassuring him that no harm was done, Kathy took her plate along the buffet to collect a sausage, a wrinkled tomato and a piece of toast. She poured herself a cup of tea from the urn to finish.

By the time she got back to a table by the window, both toast and tea were cold, but that didn’t bother her too much. It was the fat man at the end of the table that drew her attention. As she ate heartily, Kathy couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Apart from the arm that turned the eggs, he never moved. ‘Like a robot!’ Kathy chuckled. Then suddenly he reached round to collect a clutch of eggs from the basket behind. Just that one, swift, rigid movement and he was back again, still as a statue, one arm hanging by his side, the other turning the eggs. For a while, Kathy was mesmerised.

The sound of children outside made her glance through the window. There was a whole family of them: mum, dad, grandparents and six healthy, boisterous youngsters. ‘Oh, my God!’ Kathy exclaimed. ‘Looks like they’ve got their hands full.’

Suddenly all hell was let loose.

As that particular family burst in through the doors, another followed, and soon the whole place was filled with excited, screeching children running amok among the tables.

One pretty little girl sauntered up to Kathy and stood by her table, big saucer eyes following every forkful of food Kathy put into her mouth. Embarrassed at the way the child was staring at her, Kathy cut off a piece of sausage and offered it to her. ‘Hungry are you, sweetheart?’

With frightening speed, a woman resembling an all-in wrestler swept the child up, with a stern warning for Kathy. ‘Don’t you mess with me!’

Nervously swallowing her food, Kathy watched as the woman carried the kicking child to the buffet, where she set about terrifying the fat man.

Seeing the humour of the situation, Kathy chuckled to herself. ‘I can assure you, lady … I’ve no intention of messing with you!’

A few minutes later, having finished her breakfast and been deafened by the growing uproar in the dining room, she made good her escape.

Excited and a little apprehensive, she made her way to the house. Stopping at the telephone box which was halfway, she took out two coins and, dropping them into the slot, asked the operator to dial Maggie’s number. ‘Be in, Maggie!’ she urged. ‘Come on, pick up the phone.’ She knew it was an extravagance, but she had to talk to her friend.

Another few rings and the voice at the other end of the line sounded grumpy. ‘Who is it?’

Kathy gave a sigh of relief. ‘It’s me, who d’you think it is?’

‘KATHY!’ At once the voice came alive. ‘Why didn’t yer phone me yesterday, you wretch? I waited in as long as I could.’

Kathy explained, ‘It was late when I got here. I rang you as soon as I sorted myself out, but you weren’t home.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You were out with that bloke, weren’t you? The one I told you to be careful about?’

Maggie was on the defensive. ‘So! What if I were?’

Kathy knew it. ‘And …?’

‘And what?’

‘You know … was he just after one thing, like I said?’

‘No. He was not just after one thing.’

‘So, nothing happened then?’

‘I didn’t say that!’

‘So, what are you saying?’ Kathy knew the answer already.

‘All right, something happened, yes. But he wasn’t the one who made the running.’ There was a chuckle. ‘I were. He just went along.’

Kathy groaned. ‘There’s me travelling all day, worn out when I get here and not even able to stay in the house. And there’s you … dancing the night away, doing Lord knows what! And lying in bed half the next day.’ A thought struck her. She whispered, ‘He’s not still there, is he?’

‘No. He went home about two this morning … said he had to be up early for work. But I’m seeing him again tonight … and don’t you dare say anything! Or I’ll put the phone down.’

‘I’m saying nothing,’ Kathy replied, ‘but I still think he’s wrong for you. I reckon you might be heading for trouble falling for him hook, line and sinker, without even knowing him.’

‘I do know him!’ Maggie decided against putting the phone down. ‘I spent the bleedin’ night with him, didn’t I?’

‘Right then. Where does he live?’

There was an awkard pause. ‘I’m not really sure … somewhere the other side of Ilford, I think.’ Her voice rose in anger. ‘It’s not important. He’ll tell me when he’s good and ready.’

‘And did he say where he worked … when he had to rush off like that?’

‘I mean it, Kathy! I’ll put the phone down if yer keep quizzing me.’ Another pause, before she said lamely, ‘If I’d asked him where he worked, I’m sure he’d have told me.’

‘All right, Mags … I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you to get hurt, and … well, there was just something about him that made me suspicious, that’s all.’

‘Hmh! That’s because you’ve got a suspicious mind.’

‘Promise me you’ll take it slow with this one?’ Her every instinct told her that this bloke was a chancer. Maggie had been through it all before and never seemed to learn. Sometimes she couldn’t see beyond all the attention and flattery. In the end she always got hurt.

Now that the well-meaning ‘inquisition’ was over, Maggie’s questions came fast and furious. ‘What’s the house like? Why couldn’t you stay there? And if you couldn’t stay there, where did you spend the night?’

Kathy explained about the caravan, which had turned out to be cosy and comfortable. ‘The site is just a short walk from the house,’ she said. ‘It so happened they’d had a cancellation and I was able to take the caravan for a night.’

Maggie was exhilarated. ‘See! I told you there’d be a caravan site.’ She went on enthusiastically, ‘Happen I’ll stay there with my bloke, seeing as you don’t like him.’ She continued, in a worried voice, ‘Will you be able to get the house right? I mean … it’s bound to cost you for getting the lights and the water on.’

Kathy sighed. ‘That’s not all. There’s paint peeling off everywhere, and it looks to me like the window-sills are rotten.’

‘I can’t believe yer dad let it get that bad.’

Kathy had wondered about that herself. ‘Maybe he was in love and didn’t notice, or maybe he was tight for cash since he was keeping two homes going. But it’s been empty for over a year … maybe longer for all we know. It’s stood right through the winter at least, and I’m sure the sea air can do a lot of damage.’

‘So, how will you afford to get it done up?’

Kathy confided her plan. ‘I intend getting a little job. I could buy paint and brushes, rub the wood down and do the work myself at weekends.’

‘Hmh! Rather you than me.’

The conversation inevitably came onto men. ‘Go on then!’ Maggie urged excitedly. ‘Have yer come across any good-looking blokes yet?’

Kathy laughed. ‘Give over, Mags, I’ve only been here five minutes!’ Kathy’s mind went back to Tom. ‘There was one man though … in the chippie … aged about thirty-five or six, I reckon.’ She recalled him clearly. ‘Nicest-looking chap I’ve seen in ages, only …’ She paused, trying to put her feelings into words.

‘Only … what?’ Maggie was not the most patient of people.

‘Well …’ Kathy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. ‘He seemed, I don’t know, kind of sad. I nearly choked on a hot chip and he told me to be careful.’ She could see him now, in her mind’s eye. ‘He had the loveliest smile.’

Maggie laughed. ‘Sounds to me like you’re the one who needs to be careful. Some bloke smiles at you in the chippie … and you’re gone.’

Kathy hotly denied it. ‘Don’t be daft! I’m not “gone”, as you call it. I don’t know him from Adam and I don’t want to. Besides, I reckon I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about men!’

Maggie was incorrigible. ‘All right, all right!’ she chuckled mischievously. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do. So you behave yourself.’ As her money ran out, Kathy promised to write very soon. She knew the chances of Maggie putting pen to paper were slim.

On her way to the house, she paused to look at the boats in the harbour. Everything was beginning to come alive: it was still early but the boats were being fitted out and taken to sea; down on the slipway a man and a woman were launching their boat.

Some way along the harbour, two sleepy-eyed children walked along, holding their mother’s hand and looking as if they would still rather be in bed. Others were running and leaping about, excited by being at the seaside and impatient to get down on the beach with their buckets and spades. Kathy loved it all. After London, it was like another world.

Eager to get back to the house, she turned away. It was then that she saw the man from the chip shop emerging from the shop, his newspaper rolled up in his hand and his head bowed as if deep in thought.

She recalled what Maggie had said. ‘One smile and yer “gone”.’ That was not true, but there was something about this man that seemed to cling to her. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, or that, as he strode across the road, the sun shone down on his hair and streaked it with gold; nor was it just the pleasing sight of his long, lean figure in flannels and white shirt, with short sleeves revealing strong, bronzed arms. It was more than that.

There was something else. Something the eye couldn’t see. Something she had sensed last night when she saw him for the first time. There was a natural ‘goodness’ about him … a warmth that reached out, yet kept you at bay somehow. She had seen it in his eyes last night. Even when he smiled at her, she had seen how his dark eyes were full of sadness.

Intrigued, she watched him walk away, over the bridge and on, past the caravan site and up the hill, until she could no longer see him. ‘A man with troubles,’ she deduced quietly. But, she shook herself, she was not here to get involved with another man.

Continuing on to the house, she realised for the first time how wonderfully sited it was. There was a well-kept public green in front and a high wall at the back, with shrubberies and lawns either side, though, like the front garden, they were badly overgrown.

As she stood with her back to the door, she had clear, uninterrupted views of the harbour on one side – a hive of activity – and the river on the other, with boats and ducks, and a restaurant whose terrace spanned the water on wooden stilts. ‘You chose well, Dad,’ she murmured, and a great sense of quietness flooded her heart. ‘I know I’ll be happy here.’

The extent of disrepair was more than she had realised. Apart from the peeling windows and overgrown gardens, the path itself was pitted with holes and the gate was hanging on one hinge. There was a shed at the side of the house that was already halfway collapsed, and a broken window upstairs at the back. ‘Blimey, Kathy!’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve got your work cut out and no mistake.’

For one nerve-racking minute she wondered if she was up to it … or even whether she could ever afford to do it. But the longer she stood there, the more the doubts melted. One way or another, she was determined to restore this lovely house to its former beauty.

Delaying the moment when she would open the door and go inside, she sat on the front step, gathering strength and mentally preparing herself. ‘It was your house, Dad,’ she whispered, ‘yours and hers. And now it’s mine.’ She caught her breath in wonder and blew it out in relief. ‘I need a while to take it all in,’ she thought.

Having been to the shop for his ration of pipe-baccy and his daily paper, Jasper saw her sitting there, a small, solitary figure deep in thought. ‘Well, I never!’ He was surprised to see the house had a visitor. ‘Wonder who she is?’

As always his curiosity got the better of him.

Strolling over, he called out from the gate, ‘You look like a little lost fairy sat there.’

Jolted from her thoughts, Kathy called back, ‘I’m not lost, I’m here to stay.’ As soon as the words were out she took a great deal of comfort from them …‘I’m here to stay.’ It sounded wonderful to her ears.

Taking it on himself to come up the garden path, Jasper stretched out his hand in welcome. ‘I’m Jasper.’ He introduced himself with the most disarming grin. ‘And if yer haven’t already guessed, I’m the number one nosey parker hereabouts.’

Kathy took to him straight off. ‘I’m Kathy Wilson,’ she said, shaking his hand, ‘the new owner of Barden House.’ She said it with pride and the widest smile he had ever seen.

‘Well now, Kathy Wilson, welcome to West Bay.’ He sat down on the steps beside her. ‘Did yer know yer can get piles from sitting about on cold, damp steps?’

Kathy laughed out loud. ‘No, I didn’t,’ she confessed, ‘but I do now.’ She thought he was the loveliest, most natural, most odd-looking creature she had ever met. And she was delighted that he’d stopped to chat.

As was his nature, Jasper got straight to the point. ‘What’s brought you to West Bay?’ He had a particular reason for asking.

Kathy gestured to the house, shook her head. ‘I had to come here,’ she said. ‘The house was left me by my father.’

Jasper was visibly taken aback. ‘Oh! I’m sorry, lass. I didn’t realise your father had passed on.’ He had wondered whether that might be the case, but now that it was confirmed he felt deeply sorry. Her daddy had been a fine man, and a good friend. ‘I’m glad yer daddy had the good foresight to leave this house to you, his daughter. It’s a grand old place.’ Full of wonderful memories, he thought sadly. ‘A house like this should not be left to rot away.’

Kathy had been curious as to his earlier remark. ‘Did you know my father?’

‘What meks yer say that, lass?’ He hadn’t meant to give away too much, but there were times when his tongue had a mind of its own.

Kathy persisted. ‘Just now you seemed shocked. You said … you “didn’t realise” my father had passed on. To me, that sounds as if you knew him.’

Jasper nodded. ‘Aye,’ he admitted, ‘I knew him right enough. He was a good man … the best in my books.’

Momentarily unable to speak for the rush of emotion this produced, Kathy took a while to compose herself. ‘Tell me about him,’ she asked softly, ‘and Liz. Tell me about her.’ Each time she spoke her name, Kathy grew more curious.

‘Mmm.’ Nodding affirmatively to himself, Jasper laid down his newspaper, lit up his pipe and, taking a deep drag of it, he blew the smoke into rivers of curls that dipped and dived in the cool summer breeze. ‘Well, now, let me see,’ he murmured. ‘What would yer like to know, lass?’

‘Everything.’

‘By! That’s a huge responsibility, lass.’

‘I know.’ Jasper’s kindly voice and calming manner put Kathy at ease. ‘But, you see, I didn’t know anything about her until my mother told me. And she only found out after my father …’ Kathy gulped hard; it was still painful, even now. ‘Mother made a terrible song and dance about it, though the way she treated him, I sometimes wonder why he stayed with her.’

Jasper was philosophical as always. ‘No relationship is easy,’ he pondered. ‘Them as says different are out-and-out liars.’

Kathy knew the reason for her mother’s anger and found herself confiding in Jasper. ‘She hated him even more when she found out he’d chosen another woman over her and, to make matters worse, Dad left their love-nest to me. Mother kept it to herself all this time … no doubt meaning to sell it and pocket the money. But when she came to have a look at it, she hated the house … said it smelled of fish. She wanted nothing to do with any of it. She thought the house was worthless … “derelict” was what she said, and that it was … “filled with cheap, rubbishy furniture”. Then she found out the deeds were in my name. Even if she could have sold it, she probably wouldn’t have done. Firstly she’s about to marry a wealthy old man, so she didn’t need the money, and secondly, she had another, more devious plan up her sleeve.’

Jasper was intrigued. ‘What kind of plan?’

‘She intended giving my sister all her jewellery and the family home. I reckon she thought that, if she handed me this house at the same time, I couldn’t possibly object. That was her thinking, I’m sure of it.’

Jasper leaned forward, his voice low and intimate. ‘Your daddy never spoke about his life in London, but in a moment o’ confidence he did tell me that he ’ad only one great regret in his life. Now I think I know what he meant.’ Jasper thought this delightful young woman had been hard done by, and said so. ‘Tell me summat, lass.’

‘If I can.’

‘Yer said one o’ the reasons yer mother told yer about this place was so she could give summat more valuable to yer sister, is that right?’

‘That’s what I think, yes.’

‘And if yer hadn’t been given this house … would you have “objected” … about yer sister being given all these expensive things?’

Kathy managed a smile. ‘No. All my life my mother has given me nothing – not material things, and certainly not her love. And I never asked for anything. I had my dad’s love and, in the end, I made my own way, in spite of her.’

‘I understand.’ Jasper saw the determined set of her jaw and thought how like her father she was. ‘It’s a pity your mother saw this house as “derelict”.’ He gave a hearty chuckle. ‘I reckon Liz would be deeply hurt to hear her carefully chosen furniture described as being “rubbish”.’

Kathy explained. ‘Mother was bound to say that, because she thought my father and Liz had probably chosen it together. In fact, I’m sure she only came to see the house out of curiosity. My mother would never have dirtied her hands on Father’s love-nest … unless, of course, it was filled with priceless things.’

‘Ah, but it was filled with priceless things, lass.’ Jasper glanced up at the house. ‘It was filled with happiness and love. For your father and his sweetheart, every day was a new adventure.’ As he spoke his eyes shone. ‘They were so much in love … it was a joy to see.’

Kathy felt that joy now. She felt her father’s love all around her. ‘Did you know my father well?’

Jasper nodded. He had spoken with Kathy’s father many times during his stay here. ‘I knew them both,’ he confided. ‘I was here the day they bought this house, and I watched them blossom and grow the more they were together.’

He sighed. ‘In this life you only ever get one chance at true happiness; if you let it go, it may never come again. Liz and your father knew that. They lived every minute together as though it was their last.’ His voice broke. ‘I’m sorry it ended the way it did.’

Kathy was anxious. ‘How did it end?’ She needed to know. ‘Please, Jasper … I’d like to know.’

Jasper wasn’t altogether sure. ‘It’s not my way, lass … to betray a confidence.’ It went against all his principles.

Kathy gave the answer he needed. ‘Daddy wouldn’t mind,’ she said softly. ‘I think he wants me to know, or he wouldn’t have left me this house.’

‘Mebbe yer right,’ Jasper conceded. ‘I’m a great believer in Fate. Happen you were sent here for a purpose.’

Before he began, Jasper took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. He nodded in agreement, and what he told her was a love story, of two lonely people, brought together by chance, and parted by a cruel twist of Fate.

There on the steps, in the warmth of the early morning, they sat together, the old man and the young woman. In a quiet voice he unfolded the mystery, and she listened, hanging on his every word. Neither of them noticed the people who passed by, occasionally glancing at them. Instead, he revealed the truth of how it was. As he spoke in his soft voice, Kathy had neither eyes nor ears for anyone but him.

‘It all began one winter’s night, some nine years ago,’ Jasper confided. ‘Yer father were on his way to close a business deal in Dorchester. Anyway, the weather took a turn for the worse, so he came off the main road and into West Bay. He stayed at the guest-house back along the road there …’ Pointing in the direction from which Kathy had entered West Bay, he went on. ‘For three days the storms raged on, the roaring seas threw up waves some twenty feet high. I’m tellin’ yer, lass, it were like all hell let loose.’ As he related it to Kathy, he grew excited. ‘By! I’ve never seen anything like it in all me born days.’

‘I remember!’ she exclaimed. ‘He told us all about the storm when he got back, but he didn’t say anything about West Bay. He just said he’d found a place to stay until it died down.’ She chuckled. ‘Mother was none too pleased. She thought he should have got the train home and not been so selfish by staying out a week longer than was necessary.’

The old man shook his head. ‘He couldn’t have left … there were no trains running. All the roads were blocked for miles round. And there was fork-lightning, too – struck several houses an’ set ’em afire. Telegraph poles were down and the harbour overflowed onto the walkways. It were a livin’ nightmare!’

Kathy was enthralled. ‘So he stayed in the guest-house the whole time?’

Jasper recalled every detail. ‘Aye, lass. He were here for the whole of that week. That’s how he met Liz. She were a widow: her husband was killed afore the war.’

He smiled fondly. ‘They told me many a time afterwards that the minute they met it were like they’d known each other all their lives. Sometimes they talked right through the night … getting to know each other –’ he gave a slow, knowing wink – ‘falling more in love with every day that passed.’

Kathy had mixed feelings. ‘He never told me,’ she murmured. ‘He never told anyone. Except you.’

‘It’s easier to talk man to man. Sometimes, when Liz was off doing things, we’d sit on this very step and confide in each other. There are things you can tell a stranger that you could never tell them as are close to yer.’ He knew that from experience. ‘Anyway, I’d best not jump the gun. After the storm subsided and some o’ the roads were cleared, he knew he had to get back to close that deal. When they parted the very first time, with yer dad still driven by his work, they each promised that they would meet in a few weeks. Yer dad turned up at every opportunity. He just couldn’t keep away. They were becoming inseparable. Afore too long, it got so’s neither of ’em wanted to go back.’

Kathy gasped. ‘That was when he began staying away for longer periods at a time. “I won’t leave you for longer than I have to”, that’s what he used to say to me, and I counted the minutes until he came home.’

Jasper astonished her with his next remark. ‘After the war, your father bought a small cruiser … it’s gone now, Liz sold it.’ He laughed out loud. ‘By! We ’ad some fun with that boat, I can tell yer. Y’see, a long time back, when I were young an’ foolish, I joined the Navy. I had a hankering for the sea, so I got to know a bit about boats and such. Yer dad didn’t know nothing at all!’ He chuckled. ‘Matter o’ fact I told him many a time that he were a danger to hissel.’

Shaking his head, he laughed out loud at the memory. ‘I helped yer dad to manage that boat, and I don’t mind tellin’ yer, he soon got to grips with it … seemed born to it, ’e did. But there were times in the beginning when I thought the three of us would be drowned for sure! Like the first time yer dad negotiated that narrer channel out to sea. By! We crashed into the walls so many times it were a wonder we didn’t end up as matchwood. Liz were screaming; I were trying to bale out the water that were splashing in; and Gawd ’elp us, yer dad were up front, fighting at the wheel.’

He had to stop a minute, so helpless with laughter that he couldn’t go on. ‘Anyroad … somehow or other we got out to open waters. We were safer there, y’see. Yer dad hadn’t got anything to crash into, and the waters were smoother out there.’

He could see the whole thing in his mind, like a film turning over. ‘Oh, but he soon got the ’ang of it. After a time, he and Liz would go out on their own … over to Lyme Regis, or into some little cove along the coast, where they’d swim to their hearts’ content. Afterwards they’d lie in the sun, happy in each other’s company.’

Kathy heard what he was saying, but could hardly believe it.

The old man saw the questions in her pretty eyes, and he realised how all of this must be a shock to her. ‘All right, are yer, lass?’ he asked.

Lost in thought, Kathy didn’t answer for a minute. ‘I never knew!’ she said. ‘I had no idea. My dad was always in a suit … dressed for work. He bought and sold goods – anything from a fleet of lorries to a block of houses; whatever he could make a profit on. When he wasn’t in his office, he was trading, buying and selling, criss-crossing the country looking for the next big deal. Especially during the war: he was away a lot then.’ She was amazed. ‘I didn’t even know he could swim. And I can’t imagine him taking a boat out to sea.’

She was beginning to see another side to her father, a side she had not known existed. ‘It’s as though you’re talking about a different man.’

‘But that’s just it,’ Jasper answered. ‘When he took off that suit, when he left the office and all his responsibilities behind, he came alive!’ He heaved a great invigorating sigh. ‘Don’t yer see, lass? When he was ’ere, with her … away from all that … he was a different man. He weren’t the man fashioned and haunted by work and burden. He were a man at peace with himself.’

While Kathy reflected on the old man’s words, he went on. ‘To start with he allus stayed in the guest-house. Then one day, when they were walking along the harbour, they saw the “FOR SALE” sign hanging right there …’ He gestured towards the gate. ‘They made an appointment for the agent to meet them ’ere, an’ right from the minute they went inside, your father fell in love with it. He bought it there and then. She kept her house as well, but, oh, they spent many a joyous time in this house, lass … until one day it all went wrong.’

Sensing his hesitation, Kathy asked, ‘What happened?’

‘He just never came back.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Shrugging his shoulders, he confided, ‘There was no explanation. He just upped and away, early one morning. He kissed her goodbye, went out of the house and just … never came back.’ He recalled how frantic Liz was. ‘She couldn’t understand it. She blamed herself, then she blamed him, and soon after she grew quiet, like. Wouldn’t speak to anybody. Oh, she were devastated, lass.’

‘But why would he just leave like that,’ Kathy mused, ‘without any explanation?’

‘Who knows, lass? But, whatever the reason, as far as I know, she never saw him again. She waited for a whole month, and there was never a sign of him. She were like a lost soul. Sometimes, I’d see her walking the clifftops, other times she’d be leaning on the rails over the harbour, or sitting on the wall by the slipway, where they laughed and played while trying to launch the boat. Most times she’d be watching out the window, willing him to turn that corner. After a time, she began to believe he’d changed his mind and wanted an end to it. So she closed the house up, and went away.’ He pursed his mouth, the way he did when thoughtful. ‘Broken-hearted, she were.’

Kathy was saddened. ‘So she didn’t know … about my father … how ill he was?’

The old man shook his head. ‘No, lass. Though she did ask me once if I thought he’d caught a chill out on the boat … said she’d noticed how pale and quiet he seemed; but when she gently tackled him, he bucked up and everything seemed all right again.’

He shook his head slowly from side to side, his eyes downcast. ‘O’ course, she didn’t realise, and neither did I. Even if yer father knew he was ill, he never would have said. He wouldn’t ’ave wanted to worry her. Happen he wanted it to end the way it had all started: sudden-like, without any kind o’ plan.’

‘But if she’d known he was ill, she would have cared for him, I’m sure.’ Kathy’s heart went out to this woman who had given her father so much happiness, only to have it all cruelly snatched away.

‘Oh! She’d have nursed him like a good ’un, so she would!’ Jasper didn’t doubt it for one minute. ‘But now I can see that weren’t how he wanted it … With the way it had been with the two of them, he didn’t want her to see him getting more poorly day by day. I can understand his thinking, not to let on how ill he were. I’d ’ave done the very same.’

‘She could have called him! If she didn’t want to call him at home, she could have rung his office.’

‘It weren’t possible, lass. We neither of us had any point o’ contact with him. That was the way yer father wanted it, and we respected that.’

There was a moment of silence before Kathy asked, ‘Did she ever come back?’

The old man nodded. ‘For a time, aye, she did. She stayed on for a while. She waited, allus hoping he might come back to ’er. But o’ course he never did, and now, thanks to you, lass, I know why.’

Kathy wondered aloud. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Ask away.’

‘Do you think my dad bought this house in my name, so I could come back and tell Liz what happened to him?’

The old man was mortified. ‘Never!’ He tapped his pipe out on the step. ‘He gave you this ’ouse ’cause he wanted you to find the same happiness he knew with Liz. That’s the only reason he wanted this house to go to you, lass, and don’t yer ever think otherwise.’ On reflection he added: ‘Anyroad, he bought it long before he was ill. I’ve no doubt at the back of his mind he thought you might be happy here. I’d bet my life on it, lass.’

Kathy felt sad, but said, ‘To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind if he had meant for me to come here so I could tell her how it had been with him. She deserves to know why he went away like that.’

The old man nodded. ‘Happen one o’ these fine days she’ll turn up ’ere and yer can tell her what happened.’ He smiled on her. ‘Yer a kind-hearted little soul,’ he said. ‘Yer dad were a lucky man, to ’ave such a lovely lass for a daughter.’

Embarrassed, Kathy asked another question. ‘You said she came back?’

‘Aye, so she did, lass.’

‘So, if she was living here, why are the house and garden in such a terrible mess? From what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t have thought she was a slovenly person.’

‘Far from it, lass. She were forever polishing an’ cleaning, and oh, but she an’ your daddy loved to potter about in the garden …’ad it looking a treat, they did. Never a hair outta place.’

‘But she let it all go when she came back, is that it?’

‘Ah, well now, she didn’t stay ’ere, did she? An’ though I offered to keep the house tidy in and out, she didn’t want that neither. She kept it closed … shutting the daylight out and the memories in, or so she thought. “Leave it the way Robert left it,” she told me. “It’s his house.” So that’s what I did.’ He glanced at the tangled grass and the wildly overgrown shrubberies. ‘It’s been a while now, since the place were left empty. I’ve done as she wanted. I’ve not set fork nor spade anywhere near it.’ He groaned. ‘It’s a pity though,’ he mumbled. ‘I do so hate a garden looking untended.’

‘It’s up to me now, though,’ she said hesitantly, ‘isn’t it?’

The old man chuckled. ‘Aye, that’s right. Yer a householder now. Yer can do whatever yer like with the property. So, what ’ave yer got in mind, lass?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but if I wanted you to help, what would you say?’ Before he answered, she shyly added, ‘I can’t pay you, at least not until I get a job. But I can keep you going with a cup of tea, and I can help, if you’ll let me.’

‘A cup of tea it is,’ he agreed readily. ‘An’ if you’ve a mind to find work, yer needn’t concern yersel’ about me, ’cause I’m perfectly able to look after mesel’!’ He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye. ‘An’ yer don’t need to help me neither, unless yer really want to …’cause the truth is, I work better when there’s no woman under me feet.’

They shook hands and the deal was done.

Kathy had yet another question. ‘When she came back, did she stay in the guest-house? I mean, if she closed this house up, she obviously didn’t stay here.’

‘No, lass, she didn’t stay in the guest-house.’

‘Where did she stay then?’

‘That don’t matter,’ he said wisely, ‘but once she left this house she never again went back inside … never walked up that path, nor opened that door. It were like she had to preserve what they had, for all time.’

Kathy felt like an intruder. ‘And now I’m about to disturb all that … aren’t I?’ She needed to know. ‘What would Liz say if she knew?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure, lass, but I do know one thing. She would respect yer father’s wishes.’ He smiled at Kathy. ‘An’ I know she would love you, without a shadow of doubt.’

Kathy felt reassured. ‘Will you tell her … what’s happened?’

‘I don’t know if I’ll get the chance. Y’see, lass, she only stayed a few months before she went away again in the middle of the night and I haven’t seen nor heard from her since. She left me a note, with a few instructions, but never a mention of yer father, or where she were going, or even when I might hear from her again, if ever.’

Kathy sat quietly for a moment. She was shocked to her roots when Jasper said quietly, ‘There were a child, y’know.’ He turned to regard her. ‘Has a look o’ you.’

Momentarily speechless, Kathy stared at him as though he had lost his mind. ‘A child!’ She could hardly believe what he was saying. ‘Are you telling me … my father and Liz had a child?’

The old man nodded. ‘It were a lad … friendly little chap. He’d be about what – seven year old now. They named him Robert, after his daddy. But they called him Robbie.’

‘A brother?’ Kathy’s voice broke with emotion. ‘And I never knew! Why didn’t he tell me? I belonged here, with them. I could have shared their happiness. Why did he shut me out like that?’

The old man didn’t say anything. He knew none of this could have been easy for her, and had worried about giving her the last piece of news. It was too much to cope with. So he gently closed his arms round her shoulders and, drawing her to him, let her cry it out.

With her head against his chest, Kathy sobbed helplessly for a time, trying to come to terms with it all, and filled with all manner of emotions: regret at never knowing she had a brother; anger because her father had not told her; and through it all a great, abiding love that she could never again share with him.

After a time, when she was quiet inside herself, she looked up at the old man with scarred eyes. ‘He should have trusted me,’ she remarked softly.

‘No, lass. He couldn’t do that.’

‘But why not?’ She drew away, her gaze curious on him. ‘I don’t understand.’ She had tried so hard to forgive him, but even now, deep down somewhere inside, she was resentful of the fact that he couldn’t trust her enough to confide in her.

‘Happen ’e were afraid, lass.’ He paused, wondering how he might explain in words she could appreciate. ‘Happen ’e couldn’t be certain how you’d handle it … yer might have been angry with him for deceiving your mother. Yer might have thought bad of him and turned away. Then again, in some misguided way, ’e might have been trying to protect you.’

He sighed from his boots. ‘Oh, lass! There could be all manner o’ reasons why he didn’t tell yer. I can’t say. But I can say one thing …’ He held her at arm’s length, his voice gentle, his bright old eyes smiling. ‘Yer father loved you all the more for not being able to share his secret with yer.’

Wiping her eyes on the cuff of her sleeve, Kathy gave a small laugh. ‘That’s a strange thing to say.’

He winked. ‘I’m a strange man, or so they tell me.’

Impetuously kissing him on the cheek, Kathy thanked him. What he said just now had helped her, more than he had realised. ‘Tell me about his son … my brother.’

With a rush of pleasure, the old man brought the boy’s image to mind. ‘He’s a grand lad. He loves to be on the boat. Swims like a fish, and built strong-like. Curious nature … allus wanting to know … “what’s this do?” an’ “what’s that for?”’ He chuckled. ‘Drives a fella crazy, he does, with his never-ending questions.’

Reaching out, he took up a length of her hair. ‘He’s got brown hair like you … a bit lighter, mebbe, being in the sun whenever he could. Dark eyes like his daddy, and the gentle ways of his mother.’

Kathy had a picture in her mind now. ‘I hope I’ll get to meet him.’ The picture was still not complete. ‘What was she like … Liz?’

The old man thought a while before giving a brief description. ‘Long fair hair tied back; slender figure; pretty grey eyes – an’, oh yes, she couldn’t go out in the sun without getting smothered in freckles.’

Following his description, Kathy could see her clearly in her mind’s eye. ‘She sounds lovely.’

‘She’s a darling woman,’ the old man concluded. ‘Any man would be proud to walk down the street with her.’

Kathy wondered about this good woman, and the boy who was her brother. ‘I hope she comes back,’ she said quietly. ‘I hope I get to meet them.’

The old man didn’t answer. He knew from experience that hoping and wishing didn’t mean it would happen.

Standing up, he stretched his aching back. ‘By! I’ve sat that long I’m all bent and twisted,’ he groaned.

Kathy looked at his thick strong figure and the short sturdy legs. ‘No, you’re not,’ she told him with a mischievous grin. ‘But I expect you’ve got piles now, from sitting on a cold step … that’s what you told me, isn’t it?’

He laughed out loud. ‘By! Yer a cheeky little madam!’ He pointed to the front door. ‘Come on, lass … see what needs doing inside.’

‘Jasper … I wonder …?’ She was loath to say it.

Now, as Kathy looked up with troubled eyes, the old man knew what was on her mind. ‘Yer want to go in yersel’,’ he remarked. ‘That’s it, isn’t it, lass?’

She nodded.

He stretched again, and tweaked his flat cap, and told her softly, ‘I’ll leave yer to it, then. But I’ll not be far away …’ He pointed to the harbour where some of the fishing boats were returning. ‘There’s fish to be sorted for market.’ He chuckled. ‘Just follow yer nose.’

For a long time after he’d gone, Kathy remained on the steps, aching to go inside the house, but not yet ready to face what she might find.

Down at the harbour, Tom waited for the boat to return. A few days ago, in a freak wind, he had been leaning over the rails, watching the boats return, when one of the small cruisers broke free. Thrown into the path of the fishing boats, it might have caused havoc if Tom hadn’t managed to catch the mooring line and draw it away.

Appreciating Tom’s help, Jack Plummer, the skipper of the Mary Lou, called him on board and proudly showed him his catch of the day. At Jack’s urging, Tom turned his hand to sorting the fish. Since then, at the same time every day, he would walk to the harbour, where he would board the Mary Lou to lend a hand. Having never set foot on a fishing boat before that particular day, he had come to enjoy the experience.

Today he had waited for Jasper as usual, surprised when he hadn’t turned up, but knowing how the old fellow could get waylaid by any one of the inhabitants of West Bay, who all knew and loved him. They also valued his practical knowledge, and it wasn’t unknown for them to recruit his help, which he gave at the drop of a hat.

Tom was already on board, sorting the fish, when he spied Jasper making his way down. ‘He’s here.’ Pausing in his work, he stretched his limbs and gave a welcoming wave.

In a good mood after a sizeable catch, Jack yelled for the old man to get a move on. ‘I told you he wouldn’t miss out on his daily treat!’ he told Tom with a hearty chuckle.

Jasper was soon on board, helping the other three men to sort the fish into crates; every now and then, up would go the cry from Jasper, ‘By! You must ’ave emptied the oceans with this catch!’

‘Never mind changing the subject!’ the skipper joked. ‘If you’re late again, I’ll have to give you your cards!’

Tom got in on the act. ‘If he goes, then so do I!’

‘Oh, all right then,’ the skipper said with a wink at Jasper. ‘If you put it that way, I’ve nothing else to say on the matter.’

They had a laugh and got on with their work. It was always like that – well-meaning banter and good-natured taunts. It was their way.

When the decks were cleared and the fish piled high into the crates, each man took a swig from the bottle of whisky strapped under Jack’s seat. They laughed and chatted and talked of the day’s adventure, and afterwards they loaded the crates onto the skipper’s old red truck, ready for market. ‘When are you coming out fishing with us?’ Jack asked Tom.

Tom was evasive. ‘We’ll see,’ he answered, and Jack knew he wasn’t yet ready. Like everyone in West Bay, he knew Tom valued his privacy. Helping sort the fish was one thing, but being closeted with others in a small boat in the middle of the ocean was quite another.

From her front door, Kathy watched the old man walk to the harbour, where the skipper and another man greeted him. She heard the bursts of laughter and saw the old man wagging a finger at the skipper, then further laughter, before they got out the whisky and downed a well-earned drop or two.

Kathy couldn’t hear what sparked the laughter, but suspected it might be the old man’s doing. ‘What a character!’ Already she really liked him.

She realised with a flush of interest that the other man was the bloke from the chip shop. He cut a fine figure in his boots and oils. He and Jasper seemed to know each other. Curious, she observed them for a time, watching as the man leapt from the boat to clamber up the wall to the top. There he swung himself over athletically. She thought him too handsome for his own good. ‘Better not let Maggie loose round him,’ she muttered light-heartedly. Brusquely, she turned towards the house. ‘Right, Kathy! The sooner you’re inside, the sooner you can start settling down,’ she declared nervously. ‘It’s your house now. It’s up to you.’ All the same, the ordeal of entering what had been her father’s love-nest was not something she was looking forward to.

Taking the key from her pocket, she opened the front door. As it swung gently open, she remained where she stood, peering inside, her heart bumping nineteen to the dozen, until she could hardly breathe.

Another minute, a deep breath, and she walked anxiously over the threshold.

The smell of damp invaded her nostrils; the feeling of having trespassed was strong in her. She moved further in. Without lights and with the curtains closed, it was semi-dark, with only the open door and the sunlight against the curtains giving her enough light to guide her way. ‘I’ll need to see about the electricity,’ she reminded herself.

Going to the first window, she threw open the curtains; the effect was amazing. The sun burst in and lit the room with a warmth and glory that took Kathy by surprise. It was a large room, open and spacious, with high ceilings and the prettiest fireplace, surrounded by dark blue tiles with splashes of tiny white roses, so realistic they might have been picked fresh from a garden.

Gazing round the room, she was reminded of what her mother had said about the house. Kathy smiled. ‘Oh, Mother! How could you be so wrong?’

Certainly it wasn’t the expensive, ornate furniture her mother coveted. Instead it was fine and simple. By the far wall stood a sideboard in light-coloured wood, with long legs and a shelf underneath. Four beautiful blue meat-plates rested atop it, standing proud against the wall. There was a unit of shelves beside the fireplace, each displaying three small porcelain figures, all of which were of children. Some were playing, others lying on their tummies reading, and one, which Kathy thought was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, was of a small girl holding an array of brightly coloured balloons, her face uplifted and full of absolute joy. It made Kathy smile.

There were two paintings on the wall: one of the harbour, with boats and the fishermen; another of a garden filled with bloom and colour. It was not too difficult to imagine it could be the garden to this house.

In front of the fireplace was a thick, cream-coloured rug, now slightly discoloured by dust and neglect. Either side of the fireplace stood two deep, comfortable armchairs, one with a high back. Upholstered in plain dark blue, they complemented everything in that room.

Opening both windows wide, Kathy let the sunlight momentarily bathe her face. She didn’t feel so much like an intruder now. Instead she was already relaxing, beginning to settle.

She went into the kitchen, where again she opened the window, pleasantly surprised when she saw how spacious it was. There was a white enamelled cooker on the wall opposite the window, with a pine dresser one side and a wooden kitchenette the other. The sink had shelves underneath, with a pretty curtain skirting the lip of the sink. There were white and blue frilly curtains at the window, and a pine table and four spindle-chairs in the centre of the room, the table being spread with a cloth of the same fabric as the curtains. A cornflower-blue vase stood on the window-sill, its once vibrant roses long ago faded.

Plucking out the flowers with her fingertips, Kathy laid them on the drainer. It felt strange, removing flowers that had been lovingly put there by the woman called Liz.

Suddenly she gave a cry when a hidden thorn tore at her skin, making it bleed. Licking away the blood, she thought it strange that the flowers had withered, while the thorns were as hard and sharp as ever.

Going upstairs, Kathy walked from room to room. She found a good-sized bathroom with two very large windows. The room itself seemed far too large and oddly shaped for the meagre contents. Because only the newer houses were built with a bathroom of sorts, Kathy guessed this one might be a converted bedroom. It contained a small sink, toilet, and a bath with cast-iron legs. Here again she opened the window, and at once the room was transformed with the inrush of sunlight.

There were three bedrooms, each with a bed, wardrobe and dressing table. All the beds were covered in eiderdowns of varying colours; all the colours were warm and gentle: much like the woman herself, Kathy suspected.

The main room overlooked the harbour. Square and spacious, it had a good feel to it, Kathy thought.

Leaning out of the window, she took a great gulp of air, drinking in the magnificent views at the same time. It was only when she turned that she saw the small photograph on the bedside cabinet. With hesitant footsteps she went over to it and, taking the photograph into her hands, she stared at it for what seemed an age, her heart turning somersaults and the tears never far away.

There were three people in the photograph: a woman of the same description the old man had given and who she knew must be Liz; a boy, taller than she’d imagined, his laughing face looking up at her and the sunlight making him squint. Standing between them, the man had his arms round the other two. She ran a sensitive finger over his features. ‘Why did you have to leave me?’

As the tears began to spill, Kathy sat on the bed, her gaze intent on her beloved father’s face, her mind in turmoil with questions, and her heart like a lead weight inside her. ‘You look so different,’ she murmured. ‘Jasper was right,’ she conceded, ‘you are different.’ In a casual, short-sleeved shirt, his hair gently blown by the breeze and with a look of contentment in his dark eyes, her father seemed years younger than she remembered.

She sat there for a long time, the photograph clutched tightly against her chest and the sobs echoing in that long-deserted room. In his free, bright smile, she could see with her own eyes how happy he had been here, with that other family he had protected so fiercely.

The sobs were bitter, yet not condemning. The emotions she had pent up, the resentment and anger, all of that poured away, until all that was left were memories, and a great well of gratitude, because he had found contentment.

In Cliff Cottage the two men played their last game of cards for the evening. ‘Time I were off to me bed.’ The old man yawned. ‘One more hand, then I’m away. What d’yer say, Tom?’

‘You’re right, it’s late.’ Getting up from the table, Tom stretched his arms almost to the ceiling, his body aching in every bone. ‘I think my back’s broken from lifting all those crates!’ All the walking he did had kept him fit, but lately he had come to realise he needed work of some kind, to keep him sane as well as supple. ‘I’ve been thinking … I might take Jack up on his offer to go out fishing with him,’ he confided. ‘I need to do something … at least until I get my life sorted out.’ Which meant hunting down the monster who killed his family.

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ The old man paused before asking in a softer voice, ‘That other business you’ve been brooding about, is it done with?’

Tom was taken aback. ‘What business is that?’ Though he feigned ignorance, he knew well enough what the old man was on about.

‘Don’t get me wrong, son.’ The old man was growing to love and respect Tom like a son. ‘I’ve known all along that summat bad drove yer to West Bay. I’ve seen that same look on blokes during the war – brooding, keeping it all locked up inside till it drives a man crazy.’

When Tom made as if to reply, Jasper put up his hand. ‘No, son. Whatever it is, you’ll deal with it, I’m sure. Like I said, it’s none o’ my business. You’ve never said, and I never asked,’ he explained. ‘If a man wants to keep his business to hisself, that’s fine by me.’

Tom neither denied nor confirmed it.

The old man persisted. ‘So? Is it over … whatever’s driven yer to haunt the clifftops in the middle of the night … Oh, aye!’ He nodded assuredly. ‘I’ve seen yer, wandering about like a lost soul, an’ I’ve seen yer during the day … with yer eyes all swollen from lack o’ sleep.’

He looked Tom in the eye. ‘So, is it over? Is that why yer all of a sudden coming outta yer shell and tekking up the skipper’s offer to go fishing?’

For what seemed an age Tom didn’t answer. Instead he walked slowly to the window, where he stared into the night. In his mind’s eye he could see the carnage on that day when he lost them all. ‘No!’ His voice was like a whiplash in the quietness of the room. ‘It’s not over! Not yet.’ But soon, he thought … very soon!

Sensing the rage inside him, the old man sidled up to Tom. Laying a tender hand on his arm, he warned, ‘Easy, son. I know what it’s like to be haunted by things yer can’t control.’ He had an idea what Tom was going through, though not the reason for it. ‘Whatever it is yer need to do in order to regain peace of mind, I want you to remember one thing.’

Turning to look down on him, Tom asked the question without uttering one word. ‘Tek yer time, son,’ the old man advised. ‘Don’t let rage and bitterness cloud yer judgement. Sometimes a man can’t see the wood for the trees. Be sure to remember that.’

Tom nodded appreciatively. He knew this man was his friend, and he was grateful for that. Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to talk about what happened. He squared his shoulders and, smiling, stood back. ‘How about if you put the cards away, while I get my jacket? I’ll see you home.’

Glancing out of the window, he was intrigued to see that all the houses were in darkness but for one. ‘We seem to be the last ones awake right now,’ he commented, ‘except for that old house down by the green.’ From where he stood, the light flickering in the front room was clearly visible.

Concerned, Jasper looked out of the window. ‘By! The lass is up late, and no mistake. I hope she’s all right.’

Tom was surprised. ‘Why shouldn’t she be?’

‘Because there’s no electricity nor water, and yer know how long it teks ’em to turn it all back on. Quick enough to tek yer money though, the buggers!’

‘Her name’s Kathy.’ Unaware that Tom had seen Kathy as she sat on the wall eating her chips that night, the old man chatted on. ‘Her father left her the house, so she’s decided to come and live here.’ Jasper thought that was about as much as he had a right to tell anyone, even Tom, except, ‘Soonever she’s got the house up to scratch, she’ll be looking for work. Now then … are yer walking back with me, or what?’

Kathy had just closed the curtains and made her way up to bed, taking the lamp with her, when she heard a tap on the door. A little nervous, she looked out of the window. ‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s only me, lass.’ The old man looked up. ‘I saw the light and wondered if yer were all right?’

Relieved, Kathy told him to wait and she would come down.

A moment later she was at the door. ‘I’m fine,’ she told him, ‘but the sooner I get the electricity switched back on, the better.’

The old man was still anxious. ‘Yer should have booked into the guest-house, like I said,’ he replied. ‘Yer should not be sleeping in that damp bed … and the sheets must need a good boil, if they are still in one piece, that is.’

Kathy laughed. ‘You’re a real worrier! Look, I washed the sheets by hand and dried them on a line outside. I went across to the shop with two hot-water bottles I found, and the lady very kindly filled them with hot water, so I could air the mattress. I’ve had Ovaltine and toast for my supper, and a crisp, rosy apple to finish.’ She was grateful, though, for his concern. ‘I’m all right, Jasper, really I am.’ In fact, she was already feeling very attached to the house.

The old man was content. ‘It seems yer can look after yersel’,’ he remarked, ‘… an’ I’m just wastin’ me time.’ He had reservations, though. ‘I’m still not sure about the bed. Are yer sure it’s fit to sleep on, lass?’

‘Absolutely! Like I said … the sheets are washed, the mattress aired, and I’m not about to die of pneumonia, so will you stop worrying?’ She gave him a smile. ‘Still, it is nice to have somebody worrying about me.’

‘Right then, lass. I’d best leave yer to get some sleep,’ he said. ‘Seems to me you’ve had a busy old day.’

Satisfied that she was coming to no harm, he went back down the path. ‘By! She’s not only bonny,’ he told Tom, who had waited by the gate, ‘she’s capable, too.’

As the two of them walked away, Kathy caught sight of Tom. ‘Goodnight!’ she called. Tom returned the greeting with a wave and a smile that Kathy found appealing.

Tom was curious. ‘Does she really mean to stay in that house all on her own?’

‘As far as I know, yes. But, like I said, she seems capable enough.’

Five minutes later, having walked the old man home and chatted about this and that, Tom returned by way of Barden House. He hadn’t taken too much notice of it before, but even in the lamplight he could see how anyone might fall in love with the place.

At the corner he paused, his glance travelling upwards to the window where she was when Jasper first spoke to her. ‘Brave girl,’ he murmured. ‘She’s got her work cut out keeping that place up to scratch.’ He smiled to himself. ‘She seems an independent sort; I don’t suppose she’d welcome the offer of help.’

His heart leapt when suddenly the curtain was drawn back and the window flung open and there was Kathy looking down on him. She didn’t speak, and neither did he. Instead they looked at each other for a long, mesmerising moment, before he hurried away, embarrassed at having been caught loitering outside her house.

Kathy watched him stride away. ‘I don’t know who was more embarrassed … me or him.’ She thought she might relate the incident in her next letter to Maggie. But, on second thoughts, it seemed such a private moment she decided not to.

They were both so deeply disturbed by the encounter that it was a long time before either of them could sleep.

Kathy lay snuggled up in her bed, absent-mindedly watching the shifting skies through her window; while Tom paced the floor awhile, before picking up the photograph of his family. He stared at their familiar faces, and as always was filled with regret, and a sense of blind rage that even now he had not brought under control.

With Kathy’s face creeping into his mind, he felt the need to explain to his lost wife. ‘She’s like you, sweetheart … strong-minded and independent.’ It tore at his heart to realise he had addressed her as though she was present.

Replacing the photograph, he strolled to the window, his gaze drawn back to Barden House. He stayed there for an age, looking and thinking … with Kathy’s face strong in his mind.

Soon, those other, horrifying images swept away all else. Knowing what he must do before he could ever have a life again, he closed the curtains.

The next morning, back in London, a young woman rushed into a florist’s shop. ‘Mrs Taylor! It’s happened again!’

The manageress dropped the half-finished bouquet onto the counter. ‘What are you talking about?’ Since sending Gloria out on her deliveries, she’d been rushed off her feet, and was not now in the sweetest of moods. ‘Have you delivered all the flowers?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Go on! Spit it out.’ She could see something had upset the girl, and now she was curious. ‘What’s happened?’

Gloria almost ran to the counter where, red-faced and flustered, she told her boss, ‘You know that order, to take flowers to the churchyard every fortnight … that poor family that got killed? Well, it’s happened again … The flowers I put there week before last … those beautiful roses and gypsophila … they were strewn all over the place. Somebody’s filled the vase with new flowers! I didn’t know what to do, so I squeezed ours in.’

She was close to tears. ‘That’s three times now, when somebody’s deliberately vandalised our flowers. Should we let Mr Arnold know, d’you think, Mrs Taylor?’

The manageress considered it for a swift moment before coming to the conclusion, ‘It can’t be children. They might take it into their nasty little heads to destroy the flowers, but they’re not likely to spend a fortune on replacing them with their own, are they?’

‘So, who is it then?’

‘I wish I knew!’ She had given it some thought before but she had not come up with any answers. ‘Who would do such a thing?’ she asked angrily. ‘Anyway, I don’t think we should worry Mr Arnold about it. We’ll just have to keep an eye on the situation.’

‘Well, I think it’s weird!’

‘That’s because you’ve got too vivid an imagination.’

Resuming her work, Margaret Taylor gave the order, ‘Move yourself, young lady. There’s work to be done.’