‘It’s magnificent!’ Barny seemed not to have heard Ellie’s remark as he gazed, enchanted, over the scene below. ‘I can understand now how you love it so.’ He turned his gaze on Ellie, smiling but silent. Her beauty took his breath away and filled his heart.
Amused and pleasantly embarrassed, Ellie softly laughed. ‘You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?’ she asked.
‘Of course I did,’ he protested, bending towards her and pushing the tip of his nose into hers. ‘Only… I don’t want to go yet. I don’t ever want to go.’
‘We must.’ Ellie was suddenly disturbed by the havoc he was creating in her. The tip of his nose was warm, soft and squashy against her chilled face. His green eyes were too darkly handsome, too smiling, too searching. She was acutely aware of the gentle rhythm of his breath against her skin. His mouth was too close, too attractive and inviting. Suddenly, his arms were round her, strong yet tender, pulling her down, drawing her to him. She did not resist. She did not want to. The sight of the lake had strengthened the painful memory of Alec Harman and the girl. A confusion of emotions welled up in her, bitterness, jealousy, need. Need. Barny. ‘Oh, Barny.’ But, it wasn’t Barny who she loved. She must not encourage him too much. It was unfair. ‘I do love you so.’ His voice was murmuring low in her ear, turning her heart, fanning the passion within her. His fingers reached out, moving swiftly, warm on her skin, enticing, touching, tormenting. ‘Barny…’ His mouth covered hers, then, ‘Ssh… all I want is you, my darling.’ She felt her clothes move against her tingling skin, his weight was on her now, his nakedness fusing with hers. Soft, warm lips over her breasts, teasing the hard, erect nipples, murmuring, always murmuring, ‘Oh, Ellie… Ellie, I love you so.’ Now, he was inside her, firm, demanding, the compulsion tearing away every emotional barrier. She needed him, needed love. ‘Barny… Barny.’ Gentle, probing thrusts, sending waves of delicious anguish through her. Her senses reeling, she clung to him, moving with him. Passion devoured her. Softly groaning, she kept him there until the waves of exhilaration became a tide that overwhelmed them both, lifting, carrying them along, gaining momentum. Now it was a frenzy that knew no bounds. Gloriously, the tide burst, wonderfully spent, peacefully lapping over them.
Arms locked around each other, they followed the path to Thornton Place. Few words were spoken; each was lost in quiet, reflective thought. Night was closing in. Ellie quickened her footsteps. Shame and regret were closing in, also.
Back on the hilltop, a solitary figure continued to watch them. A dark, brooding heart was filled with sadness, and envy, and a need so powerful that it threatened to swamp all reason. Sighing, lonely, the figure bowed its head and turned away.
‘Forgive me, Ellie… I’ve hurt you, haven’t I?… spoiled our chances together?’ Barny was stricken with remorse, yet he would cherish their time on the hilltop for the rest of his life. He stood by the table in the kitchen, wishing that Ellie would pause in her work, cursing the bonfire that obliged her to spend the time leading up to it in preparing the food. He needed to talk with her. Intimately. Away from prying eyes and listening ears. He was desperate to make amends; to strengthen the bond between them. He had come to Thornton Place with the hopeful intention of securing Ellie’s promise to be his wife. Instead, he was afraid he might have gone too far. ‘All I can say is that I’m in love with you. But, you know that, don’t you?’ His green eyes were beseeching.
Ellie raised her face to his, momentarily feeling his anguish. ‘I know you do, Barny,’ she said. A rush of compassion seized her weary heart. Putting down the knife and wiping her hands over the tea towel, she turned from the mound of chestnuts and potatoes. ‘I love you too… I must, or I would never have allowed myself to… to…’ She half smiled and lowered her eyes. ‘I wanted you every bit as much as you wanted me,’ she murmured, the pink flush of self-consciousness burning her face.
‘Then you do love me!’ Barny was beside himself with relief. ‘It wasn’t just the moment… you felt the same?’
‘Barny.’ Ellie was afraid of what he might construe from her admission just now. She had to stop him. ‘Yes, I do… love you,’ she admitted, ‘but…’ She would have gone on to explain how it was not enough. Her love for him had been influenced only by other, long ago memories. This afternoon she had been swept along, against her better judgement, all of her emotions a tangle, jealous of Alec, wanting to hurt him, moved by Barny’s nearness and the persuasion of his manner. Desperate in her need. He was a wonderful lover. Up there on that hilltop, he had awakened something in her that she would always thank him for. He had made her see that it was Alec she wanted. Alec who she would always want, even in spite of the knowledge that he was all she despised. She and Alec were not meant to be, she knew that. But, after today, she knew also that she and Barny were not meant to be, either. His coming here had been a mistake. She must make him see that; let him down lightly. But not tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Barny was wise; a good man. He deserved someone who could return all the love he had to give. As for Alec Harman? Ellie hoped he would stay out of her life. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon!
Ellie might have said all this and more. If only the untimely, or perhaps timely, entrance of her father had not prevented it. ‘Ellie, sweetheart… I’ve had enough of plastering that damned room.’ He came to the table and stole a chestnut. After skilfully peeling it, he smiled at her, saying, ‘I thought I might take your young man on a tour of our delightful grounds.’ He glanced at Barny and winked. He made no mention of the fact that he had overheard the conversation between his daughter and this young man. Nor that he had sensed Ellie’s reluctance to commit herself to marriage; a reluctance he heartily approved of. It was painfully obvious to him that Barny Tyler had been on the verge of proposing, and he couldn’t have that, could he now? What was the old saying?… ‘All’s fair in love and war.’ That was it. An apt description of this particular situation. Love. And war. All was fair!
‘But it will be dark within the hour!’ Ellie pointed out, glancing up at the big wall clock. ‘And Johnny’s still out somewhere. I was hoping you’d find him for me.’ She wrinkled her nose, gesturing towards the sink and saying with some disgust, ‘When you’ve got a minute… that sink smells really bad again.’
‘Check the sink… find the boy! No problem at all.’ He popped the raw chestnut into his mouth, twisting his lips sideways to speak. ‘I reckon the sink needs a thicker layer of concrete beneath it… I’ve noticed that the dressing I put down is crumbling. Don’t worry. I’ll get round to that tomorrow. For the moment, me and Barny will take a stroll towards the lake… kill two birds with one stone so to speak… while I’m showing him around, we’ll keep our eyes open for the boy. No doubt he’s still scouring the spinney for wood to pile on that monumental bonfire!’ Before Ellie could protest, he slapped the flat of his hand on Barny’s back and began propelling him towards the door. ‘Come on fella-me-lad,’ he said in jocular voice, ‘we’ll make our way down towards the lake… spectacular!’ He kept up a good-humoured banter until he had seen Barny safely through the door, when he turned to praise Ellie. ‘That’s a proper feast you’re creating there, sweetheart… hot chestnuts, baked potatoes… fresh bread rolls…’ He stretched his gaze beyond her to the table-top. ‘Where’s the succulent ham I saw this morning?’
‘Rosie took charge of that,’ Ellie replied with some amusement. She knew her father’s devious little tricks, and had quickly suspected him of having engineered this little ‘outing’ just to separate her and Barny. Another time, she might have reacted in a very different way but, on this occasion, what she truly felt was gratitude. All the same, lingering beneath her resolution to send Barny away for ever, Ellie felt a murmuring of doubt. Was she doing the right thing?
‘Huh! So, Rosie thinks you can’t cook a ham properly, is that it?’ He chuckled, closing the door on his last words. ‘We shall just have to show her what an indispensable treasure you are, shan’t we, eh?… we shall have
to show them all!’
‘What the hell was that?’ Jack Armstrong jerked his head round, peering towards a spot some way further along the lake’s edge. He and Barny had been walking back towards the spinney, discussing Thornton Place and exchanging conversation with regard to each other’s workloads, when the older man had cried out in a loud whisper. Grabbing his companion by the arm, he urged him to a halt. ‘There… did you see that?’ he asked, frantically gesturing ahead.
‘No… I didn’t see anything,’ Barny replied, straining his eyes towards the spot. ‘There’s nothing there, Mr Armstrong,’ he assured the older man.
‘There bloody well is, I tell you. Look!’
Barny peered harder into the darkness. ‘Probably a night creature,’ he said. He was disturbed to see how nervous the other man was.
‘I wouldn’t mind betting it’s my son… sneaking about… up to no good!’ In the half-light, his face was chiselled with anger. ‘He’s beyond me. Since his mother… well, the boy just seems… wrong somehow. He’s never been the same. I can’t fathom him. I’ve tried, God only knows, I’ve tried, but…’ He shook his head. ‘He’s changed.’
‘I understand.’
‘Do you?’ Jack Armstrong turned his anxious gaze on Barny’s concerned face. ‘I don’t think you do, young man… certainly, I don’t. Both Ellie and myself… we’ve had to cope. Why can’t he? Tell me that!’
‘He is only a boy.’
‘He’s weak, that’s what he is.’
Barny gave no answer to that. Instead, he merely nodded his head. He knew from past experience that Jack Armstrong was a very strong-minded man. Look how desperately he had made every effort to discourage his and Ellie’s growing relationship in the early days. Oh yes! If Ellie’s father set his mind against you, he could be a formidable enemy. It struck Barny in that moment how it was not only the boy who had ‘changed’. So had Ellie’s father. The previous Mr Armstrong would never have allowed a suitor to get too close to his daughter, let alone invite one to stay under the same roof… even for a single night! He really did seem different somehow. More approachable and… fulfilled. Less aggressive. Barny supposed that the awful tragedy which had taken Marie Armstrong from her family had touched each one of them more deeply than even they themselves could realise. Now, he could sense the other man’s agitation. ‘If you like, we’ll go and investigate,’ he suggested.
‘No need. It is the boy… I just know it. Two of us coming on him would give him warning… send him into hiding. That won’t do. If it is him… prowling about… deliberately frightening folk, then he has to learn not to.’ He looked at Barny, suddenly realising how harsh he must sound. ‘You don’t know him like I do,’ he explained in a whisper. ‘Like I said, he’s changed… developed a nasty, cruel streak… likes to hurt things… people. Such wickedness must be nipped in the bud.’ He began to stride away. ‘I’ll see you back at the house. Tell Ellie I suspect the boy is up to bad tricks… tell her I’ll fetch him back.’
‘Let me come with you.’ Barny started after him. ‘Two pairs of eyes are better than one.’
‘No! Get back to the house. Turn round and follow the footpath through the spinney… you’ll find it easily enough, if you keep your eyes peeled.’ He laughed. ‘Don’t stray, though… the spinney is said to be haunted.’ His laughter lingered on the breeze, long after he had disappeared from sight.
‘Huh! It’s easy to see where the boy gets his “cruel streak” from,’ Barny murmured, beginning his way towards the spinney. He had spoken too soon. Jack Armstrong had not changed at all! A strange sensation came over him. A disturbing sensation, to do with Ellie. It occurred to him that the sooner he could take her away from here, the better. Wait a minute! What was he saying? Surely to God he wasn’t saying that Ellie was in danger from her own family? No, no! The idea was preposterous. All the same, he had been greatly unsettled by Jack Armstrong’s erratic behaviour just now. And, he had not seen anything move back there, nor, he suspected, had Jack Armstrong. Why, then, had Ellie’s father rushed away, leaving him in the middle of nowhere? Why had he made such a cruel jibe about the spinney being ‘haunted’? And, most of all, why was he so obsessed with the idea that the boy was ‘prowling about… up to no good’?
Barny reflected on his own situation. Here he was, creeping through the spinney like a nervous kitten, fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach, as the trees closed in about him. He found himself smiling, as he wondered what Ellie would have to say.
Behind him, the other man pressed on his way with soft, purposeful steps.
‘I thought you were never coming to see me. I hate it when you aren’t here… when you don’t come to see me for weeks and weeks.’
‘I can’t always be here, Johnny. I have… other things to do.’
‘Oh!’ Now his heart was black with envy. He so much wanted to ask what ‘other things’? But he knew his ‘friend’ would be angry. Instead, he said in a peevish voice, ‘I put the face on my Guy Fawkes… just like you wanted.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you?’ He was astonished. ‘Have you seen him… on top of the bonfire… in his big armchair?’
‘Of course, Johnny.’
The boy chuckled, excited. ‘Oh… did you like him? Did you see how well the face fits? I had a bit of trouble fixing it, but, in the end I did it. Strange, though…’
‘The face looks perfect, Johnny. But… why do you say it’s… “strange”?’
‘Well, I didn’t see at first… not until I stretched it over the Guy’s old face… you know, the one I made out of rag, and Ellie stitched the two brown buttons on… for eyes.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, the buttons popped through the jagged holes… in your face, and… and…’
‘Yes, Johnny?’
‘It looked like Ellie!’
In the blackness, in the menacing silence, the boy waited. He had been startled at the discovery. He wanted his ‘friend’ to be startled, too. The minutes passed. It seemed like a lifetime had gone before the whisper settled his fluttering heart. ‘You’re wrong, Johnny. Not really “like Ellie”. Think again.’ A low, harsh chuckle permeated the brooding atmosphere.
Disappointed, the boy thought hard. The face did look like Ellie! He had seen it with his own eyes. But his ‘friend’ was waiting. He thought frantically now, aware of the irritated breathing behind him. Who else? Who else did the face look like? Oh, please! Who else? In his feverish mind, a spiral of light wormed its way through his thoughts. The tension broke. He sighed, then softly laughed. Of course! Of course. ‘The paintings! The woman in the paintings.’
‘Clever Johnny, but… not quite right. The woman in the paintings, though… she is very beautiful, isn’t she?’
‘I don’t know. She’s… old, I suppose.’
The whisper hissed at him, depleting his newly found confidence. ‘No! She may be older than you, Johnny, but she’s young. She can never, ever grow old. When you are an old, old man, Johnny… she will still be young. And exquisitely beautiful. Do you understand, Johnny? Do you?’
‘Yes, yes, I think so.’
‘Good. That’s good.’
‘Did you see the paintings when you came in the house, before?’ When there was only silence to answer him, he said boldly, ‘I wish you would come and see me… in my bedroom… when you come into the house.’
‘Oh?’ A surprised laugh, then, ‘Would you really want me to come into your bedroom?’
‘Yes.’
‘You want to see me so much, don’t you, Johnny? You do!’
‘Yes. Yes. I do!’ His heart was almost bursting with anticipation. ‘I wouldn’t tell. Honest! I would never tell.’
‘I couldn’t let you tell. Ever.’
‘Can I see you? Please?’ His voice was breathless. He was sorely tempted to turn round. Hopefully, he shifted a little.
‘No. You must not see me. I can’t allow that.’ A low, devious chuckle, then. ‘But, you can touch me. Would y
ou like that?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes!’
The wait was excruciatingly long. In the dark, the small, furtive sounds excited the boy’s expectation. What was his ‘friend’ doing? What was he doing? Suddenly, the excitement was too painful to contain. ‘Can I touch you? Can I?’
‘Yes, Johnny. Reach out… I’m here, waiting.’ A warning. ‘Don’t try to look round, though. I wouldn’t like that.’
‘I won’t, I promise… I’ll keep my eyes shut all the time.’
‘That’s a good idea, Johnny. Yes… a good idea. Shut your eyes. Then, when you touch me, it will feel better. You can… imagine… what I’m like, can’t you?’
‘Now?’
‘I’m ready, Johnny.’ The whisper had changed. It was trembling, excited. Like the boy.
Cautiously, the small, probing fingers reached out, groping the darkness, eager to make contact. Something brushed fleetingly over his arm. Soft and velvet it was; like a gloved hand. Tenderly, it guided the hungry fingers. Oh! Exhilaration coursed through the boy as he felt a new sensation beneath his fingers. Warm and soft. Pleasing to the touch. ‘Is that you?’ he cried, his fingertips lingering, enjoying.
‘Ssh… be silent, Johnny.’
Tremulous, his hand continued to explore. With his eyes tightly shut, the boy could see deep into the dark recesses of his own mind. All kinds of images gyrated before him; each one pleasant to the eye. Loving. Naked. Sometimes, when he was in bed, he liked to… touch himself. To rove his hands all over his body. It was his own, special secret. He never told anyone, not even his ‘friend’. It was always good. It excited him. Like now. The smooth silkiness was the same. The curves, the softness. And the hardness. He wondered, should he tell his ‘friend’ that he sometimes touched himself like that? He opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by his ‘friend’s’ cries. Soft, frenzied cries that jerked into the darkness, heightening the boy’s deep-down sensations. At first, he feared that his ‘friend’ was in distress. But then came a rolling sigh, and the soft, soft sound of laughter. Now, his fingertips touched only the cold, black air.
No Mercy Page 19