‘I’ll fetch some things for you. Come to the house tomorrow afternoon if you want to see your sister in repose.’ He looked at Beth. ‘I’m sorry you found Molly dead. I should’ve been there with her.’
To Jo, ‘I’ve hitched up my wagon. I’ll take you back to Cardhu.’
Luke left his wagon in a sheltered hollow near Cardhu and stalled Lucky in the old stable behind the isolated grey house. Jo made coffee and she and Luke sat in the kitchen to drink it. Neither of them was hungry, but she nibbled on a ginger fairing. It brought her comfort, remembering how Celia had often given her the biscuits as a token of care.
Luke had fallen into silence again, but Jo’s thoughts centred on the little dead girl. Poor dear Molly, even if she had been blessed with a loving mother and enjoyed better health, she probably would have died in this way.
Luke said suddenly, ‘I can’t let Rex and Marylyn go back to that cottage, Jo.’
‘Of course not. I understand, darling.’
Luke fell into desperate thoughts. There was only one way now to give Rex and Marylyn a stable future. He and Jo must marry as soon as possible. But it would mean Jo forsaking her career. She was prepared to do this in the future, when the school she was planning was well under way, and keep to the administration side of things. He wanted to marry Jo, with all his heart he wanted her, but he did not have the right to spoil her life. A knot was forming around his heart and pulling tighter and tighter.
Jo was reading his mind. And she feared, as Luke did, Jessie returning and plunging Rex and Marylyn back into their old way of life. Jo would fight to prevent Jessie doing this, but the children had already suffered too many traumas. They deserved a stable life, a full-time mother.
‘We’ll have to get married, Luke.’
He reached across the table for her hand. ‘You must think this through carefully, Jo. You’ll have to make a big sacrifice. You’ll be tied down with two kids while I’m away on the road. I don’t want you to be unhappy, to come to despise me.’
‘It won’t be such a big sacrifice to marry the man I love, darling. I can’t pretend it will be easy giving up my career, but I’ll gladly do it for you and Rex and Marylyn. I love them too. We could always meet you on your travels and sometimes even go with you.’
‘I’m sorry, Jo.’ Luke shook his head, downcast, regretful. ‘I’m too selfish to refuse your offer.’
‘We’ll make it a simple affair. The children can move in here as soon as I’ve worked out my notice. Rex will get used to it. Marylyn won’t know any different. We’ll have a wonderful future, Luke. I promise.’
He gazed a while into her eyes. ‘Can I stay tonight?’
She kissed the hand holding hers. ‘You didn’t need to ask that, darling.’
They lay in each other’s arms unable to sleep, and in the long dark soul of the night, Jo heard a catch in Luke’s throat.
‘What is it, Luke?’ she whispered.
His voice emerged beset with tears. ‘God help me, but I’ve been thinking it’s the best thing to happen to Molly. She couldn’t cope at school or with the world. She had no future to look forward to.’
‘We have to believe that God knows what’s best for all of us.’
‘Yes,’ he sighed deeply, then groaned in anguish. ‘Oh, God forgive me. Molly’s dead and while she was alive I rarely held her or kissed her. I didn’t even speak to her much, except to order her about. She must have wished every day of her life she’d never been born.’
He wept finally and Jo cradled him to her. ‘You mustn’t feel guilty, Luke. You did your best.’
‘But I didn’t, Jo,’ he cried against her soft flesh. ‘I resented the kids for tying me down. If it weren’t for them I would’ve gone off and lived my own life.’
‘But you didn’t leave. Although you weren’t there all the time, Molly knew she always had you to turn to. If there had been no one in Parmarth for you to come back to, you would never have met me.’
‘I can’t bear that thought,’ he said, flinching. It was some moments before he composed himself. ‘I swear I’ll never let you, Rex or Marylyn down. You have my word, Jo.’
Chapter Thirty-One
Under a scorching sun, wearing a black dress and small sunhat, Jo arranged gardenias on Celia’s grave, now graced by the granite headstone Jo had provided. She stayed in ponderous stillness for some moments, then on slow, heavy legs walked round to the little mound created in the churchyard only yesterday.
Molly’s grave was covered with wreaths and posies. More flowers, cultivated and wild, were lined neatly nearby on the grass verge. Shocked by the suddenness at which death had snatched away an innocent child from among them, nearly all of Parmarth had turned out for the funeral. Marcus had closed the school for the day and many of the pupils had been there. A mass of black-clad figures blighting a magnificent afternoon in June.
The largest wreath was from Luke, Rex and Marylyn. The villagers had decried Jo’s name being written on it too; as if it really mattered, Molly was dead, and although the villagers had no knowledge of it yet, Jo was to marry Luke with haste and become foster-mother to Rex and Marylyn. Molly did not need more flowers today, but before going to the schoolhouse to hand in her resignation, Jo had needed to pick gardenias and white dwarf roses from her garden and to make this dual journey.
Luke had said early this morning he’d find the money to pay for a headstone and have ‘A Little Moorland Rose’ sculpted on it. Then he had left, saying he had business he must see to.
Jo understood. He needed to be alone, just as she needed to look down on Molly’s little grave to believe her tragic young pupil was really dead. Perhaps Molly was with Celia now and Celia was looking after her. A childless woman and a motherless child. It was a consoling thought.
Her mind echoing with repressed silence, Jo knelt and carefully moved aside the wreaths on the centre of the grave, then pushed the clay vase she had brought with her into the dark, dry earth. She made a second trip to fetch water at the back of the church, from the iron pump beside the sexton’s shed. The water sparkled silver and brilliant as it poured into the rusty watering can, making a pounding noise, like thunder over the moors on a sweltering summer day. Everything Jo saw and heard these last few days seemed brighter, more resounding, more obvious, as if life itself was trying to break into her numbness and disbelief and assert it was still there.
Tears came in a rush again and Jo wept in the shady privacy. She put her hand in under the mouth of the pump and let the water wet her skin. It was icy cold, pumped up from a natural stream several feet underground. The water was down, down in the deep dark silence. Like Molly. Death was cruel, as life sometimes was. Certainly life had been cruel to Molly.
And people were cruel. Very cruel.
Yesterday, after the vicar had intoned the final prayer, Luke and Rex, who was standing stonily beside him, took their last look down on the little white coffin. People had seemed reluctant to slip away and leave them to quietly bear their loss, as if wanting to come to an understanding of the tragedy for themselves.
Keane Trevail had said loudly, after glancing up at the clear blue sky, ‘She deserved this good weather. Goodness knows the poor little maid never had much sunshine in her life.’ His eyes pounced on Luke, declaring who he thought was responsible for his sister’s misery. Assenting murmurs and stares had come in a relentless volley.
Breaking down in grief, Rex ran off, disappearing among the graves. ‘Can’t you damned people wait till you get outside the churchyard,’ Luke seethed.
Standing close to Luke, Jo slipped her hand inside his. ‘Don’t, Luke. Let’s just leave.’
‘If you have any decency at all, Joanna Venner’ – Biddy Lean pushed to the front of the crowd – ‘you’d let go of his hand and give him his marching orders. We don’t want his sort in Parmarth, and if you keep on with his company you won’t be fit to teach our children.’
Murmurs of agreement echoed round the churchyard again. Jo was furious,
but before she could say anything in her or Luke’s defence, somehow a whisper of a voice broke through the tension. ‘It’s you people attacking Luke and Miss Venner at this saddest of moments who have no sense of decency. They both did all they could for poor little Molly.’ It was Beth who had spoken. With her family, her mother holding Marylyn, she slipped quietly away to host the wake at their house – if there was now to be a wake.
Marcus, who had enjoyed his rival’s shortcomings being aired in public, coughed authoritatively, as if sharing his housemaid’s views, then he immediately left to go off by himself. An exodus of red faces shied away after him. But Jo knew the villagers were only sorry to have been shamed in the churchyard. The insults would be offered again. It was ironic; she was giving up her teaching career anyway.
After an apologetic clearing of his throat, the Reverend Silas Mountebank also beat a hasty retreat, and Jo and Luke were alone. Alone with their painful emotions. The funeral had changed from an occasion of mourning into a disaster.
‘That’s right, clear off and leave us alone, all of you!’ Luke swiped angry tears from his cheeks. ‘I’m going to throw their rotten flowers away. I won’t have them put on Molly’s grave.’
Jo used force to stop him lunging at the floral tributes. ‘They’re for Molly, darling. Don’t let them upset you.’
Still looking as if he wanted to trample the multitude of flowers, Luke stalked away through the graves as Rex had done, to scale the churchyard wall.
‘Luke, wait for me.’ Jo was unable keep up with his long, furious strides and she fell behind, watching his rigid back, her heart wrung in pieces over his suffering. She had been forced to hold her own feelings in check since Molly’s death for he had given way to so many different moods. For three days he had sat in his old home over her open coffin, refusing to go outside until it was time to follow her to the churchyard. He had thrown away the rabbit’s foot he’d given her – it had not brought her any luck – and put a tiny silver cross around her neck, and a white rosebud in her hand. Jo had sat in the cottage with him, watching him smoke and drink beer, unsuccessfully coaxing him to eat, and only to avoid more gossip had she made her way home to Cardhu each night.
Luke charged on, tramping across the moor, not stopping until he’d reached the same spot at the stream where Jo and her class had encountered the rogue dog. Jo came hurrying up to him, her face flushed. He saw how upset she was and knew he should take her in his arms, but right now he couldn’t bear to be touched. The funeral had become a fiasco, a bloody joke! The woman he loved had been ostracised in front of the whole village just because she was his. Was he a piece of dirt? That was how those self-righteous bastards had spoken about him.
‘We have to go to the Wherrys’ house, Luke,’ Jo pleaded breathlessly.
All Luke could do was vent his frustration and fury. ‘No one will go there. No one will see all the food I’ve provided, enough to have kept Molly well fed for a month. There’s plenty of food and heaps of flowers for her grave. Molly had to wait to die before she had anything in plenty!’
‘Stop it, Luke. For pity’s sake, you’ll make yourself ill.’
‘Later today I’ll take the kids’ things out of that blasted dump and I’ll never set foot inside it again,’ he snarled, referring to the little cottage. ‘I’d like to burn the wretched place to the ground!’ and he let out the foulest oath. ‘I’ll bring Molly’s stuff to Cardhu. Will you keep it for Marylyn? She can have it when she’s older.’
‘Of course.’ Hot and perspiring, Jo took off her hat and unbuttoned her coat, worn just six months ago at Celia’s funeral. ‘Don’t you think you ought to find Rex?’
Luke peered at the heather-laden hills, the hazy sky, the hard outline of the tors, anywhere but at Jo. At times like this he could not bear the good sense he saw in her face. With a mighty sigh, he forced himself to speak calmly. ‘He’ll eventually make his way to the Wherrys’. I’ll take his things there, and apologise to the Wherrys about the wake.’
‘The Wherrys will understand. What will you say to him?’
‘I know what you’re getting at, Jo. I need to talk to Rex, put things straight. I’ll do it, I promise.’
Then he’d gone to her, gathered her into his arms, so much in need of her comfort. And Jo had responded by trying to blanket him with her love.
Later in the day Luke had spoken to Rex in the Wherrys’ house, but what had passed between the two brothers he would not say. After a restless night, he had hitched up his wagon and was gone.
With a start, Jo realised the icy water was spilling over the rim of the watering can and her arm and shoes were getting soaked. She stopped pumping.
Something prodded her shoulder. She turned round and with the greatest dismay saw it was Mardie Dawes. She smelled like rotting fish and was wearing a grubby, low-neck blouse. Her exposed neck and sunken chest were riddled with thick purple-blue veins. Her bare toes were malformed, peeking out like lumps of raw meat from the scuffed leather of her sandals.
‘I’ll carry that for ’ee,’ Mardie squawked, her bony hand reaching out to lift the watering can off the pump.
‘I don’t need any help,’ Jo said tartly. Wrenching the watering can down, splashing the overflowing water, she rudely pushed past Mardie.
Thick-skinned at her hostile reception, but her eyes marked with menace, the fortune-teller rambled along at her side. ‘The Vigus maid had a good send-off. Beautiful flowers. I would’ve come back to the wake, but thought I wouldn’t be welcome.’
‘You were right, Mardie. And I don’t ever want to see you on my doorstep. Would you mind going away. I want to be alone.’ They were nearing Molly’s grave and Jo stopped, having no intention of sparring with this wretched nuisance beside the sacred little place.
‘You are alone.’ Mardie edged closer to her. ‘All alone. Luke Vigus quickly took himself off. Everybody said he would. You expecting him back?’
‘Of course. It’s none of your business.’
‘I don’t agree with the others. I reckon he cares for you and will come back. You love him very much, don’t you? You are, after all, giving him what your mother gave Bob Merrick. But I wonder just how much you think Luke is worth.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Jo snapped. She would not tolerate one more insult to Luke’s character. He may not have been a model father figure to his siblings but he had never made them work so hard they couldn’t stay awake at school. He wasn’t cruel to animals. He wasn’t openly conducting an affair with a married woman. And he’d never cruelly ostracise someone in public.
Mardie tapped her skirt pocket and there was a jingle of loose change. ‘You’ve got money, missy. Are you willing to part with some of it to keep your precious Luke out of trouble, from dangling on the hangman’s rope?’
‘What?’ Jo wanted to scream but she kept her voice to a furious whisper.
‘Luke killed his mother. I saw him do it, up at the mine ruins. He threw her down Pike’s Shaft.’
‘How dare you say such a thing! Get away from me.’
Mardie grasped Jo’s wrist, making her drop the watering can, the water splashing over both their feet. ‘Jessie don’t rest, she walks the moor. She wants justice. Keep a watch for her in that lonely house of yours.’ Mardie looked her most cunning and heartless. ‘Somehow she might get word of her fate to the police. They wouldn’t be a bit surprised to learn Luke’s done away with her. He threatened to do it often enough and there’s plenty of people who heard him.’
Thrusting Mardie’s hand off her, Jo turned scarlet with rage. ‘Luke didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.’
‘Are you sure about that, missy? How well do you think you know him? He was out on the moors alone, supposedly looking for her the day she disappeared. There’s enough circumstantial evidence to make sure he’s convicted and hanged.’
‘The law may not see it that way.’
‘The question is, are you willing to take the risk?’
Jo cou
ld not answer. She wanted to throw her hands round the old woman’s neck and cut off her breath for telling these wicked lies. Lies? She had heard Luke herself threatening to kill Jessie. Had he become desperate enough to carry it through? Throwing Jessie down the mineshaft carried little risk, if one wasn’t seen. But people often threatened to kill when they were angry. They never had the slightest intention of actually doing it. She, herself, was so livid that right now she felt like lashing out at Mardie over her cruelty at waiting until now, when she was at her most vulnerable immediately after Molly’s funeral, to try to blackmail her. Had Luke allowed his hatred of Jessie to grow out of control? No, it was unthinkable.
It troubled her there was so much animosity against Luke at the moment that a police investigation could be very damaging for him. In a voice pained and hoarse, ‘How much?’
‘This is a serious matter.’ Mardie’s soulless eyes glittered malevolently. ‘Not in the same league as adultery. Celia Sayce paid me well not to tell the village of her sordid affair so she could live here peacefully. I would’ve asked hush money off you to keep her reputation intact if that damned Lidgey woman hadn’t realised who she was and blabbed about it. Keeping my mouth shut this time will mean saving Luke’s life. The price of that comes high. A lump sum of two hundred pounds and then twenty a month. He’s worth it, isn’t he?’
‘You rotten, evil bitch!’
‘I’ll call at Cardhu tomorrow evening.’ Mardie cackled. ‘Give you time to go to the bank.’
‘Don’t you dare set foot on my property,’ Jo snarled. ‘I’ll meet you at the willows, at six o’clock. Now get away from me.’
‘If you don’t show up I’ll be making a phone call to the coppers the same evening, and the only place you’ll see your lover after that is in court,’ Mardie warned coldly. She picked up the watering can and thrust it into Jo’s hand. ‘Enjoy the sunny afternoon, Miss Venner.’
Jo had no idea how long she stood there, rigid in shock and disbelief. When someone softly called her name she cried out in alarm.
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