The Woman From Heartbreak House

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘You aren’t on yer own. You have me now.’

  She smiled at her son, stroked his cheek. ‘’Course I do, and aren’t I the lucky one? But Lucy is far cleverer than either of us have given her credit for.’

  ‘Then we need to be cleverer. We need to fight her.’

  Kate gave a wry smile. ‘I’m not sure that’s possible, not without a lot of agony. ’Tis certainly true that I underestimated her, or she wouldn’t have succeeded in keeping you away from me for so long, let alone stealing you in the first place. But this business – this is even worse. I can’t bear to think of her doing that , deliberately, to my darling Eliot. Running him down. Oh, God! I hope you’re wrong and she’s innocent. I mean, we’ve no proof, have we?’

  ‘We could find proof, somehow.’ Callum realised that if they were ever going to succeed in proving what an evil, conniving woman Lucy was, he would need all his wits about him.

  His mother had again fallen silent, back into her stupor. ‘How?’ she asked. ‘That’s the question. What can we do? It’s all quite impossible.’

  Callum desperately wanted to bring the spark of battle back into her eyes, which had somehow been swamped once more by despair and misery. ‘I don’t know but I’ll think of something.’ He had a sudden idea. ‘I could ask around, see if anyone saw anything. See if I can find any witnesses, someone who mebbe spotted Lucy’s car that day.’

  ‘Oh, Callum!’ Kate shook her head. ‘The police must already have done all of that. No, best leave it.’ And she sank back into herself, staring unseeing out of the window, as if the discussion had exhausted her. Callum crept away. But she hadn’t said that he mustn’t do it, so his decision was made.

  Lucy was in a fury. Just when she thought justice had been done for the death of her darling Charles, that interfering little busybody had to go and poke his nose in! He should have stayed in the Langdales and thank his lucky stars no worse fate had befallen him. He had no right to any Tyson money. It was hers, every bit of it. She wouldn’t tolerate interference, she simply wouldn’t. And Lucy could tell by the sly way Callum kept glancing at her that he remained suspicious.

  The police had called again, asking more questions about what she was doing that day. And they’d promised to come back, once they’d made further enquiries. It was all extremely uncomfortable and not a little alarming, all thanks to the workhouse brat.

  She sent word to Swainson that she needed to speak to him, delivering the note as she usually did via his weasel son, and one evening received an acknowledgement in return. Since she couldn’t possibly be seen with him in a public place, they were to meet in a quiet country lane north of Kendal, close to the woods at Crook. Swainson would presumably ride there on his bicycle while Lucy took the Austin. A pretty enough spot in the daylight but eerily quiet after dark. She wasn’t looking forward to the encounter.

  Lucy parked her motor and sat waiting for him. Thank goodness for her precious motor! What freedom it gave her. But she needed more. She needed complete control of what should rightly have been left to Charles, and now belonged to their children. It was all Kate O’Connor’s fault, that girl from Poor House Lane. If she’d never given up her son for adoption in the first place, her precious Eliot would still have been alive today.

  A tap on the window made Lucy jump. Swainson got in beside her, just the smell of the man made her recoil, let alone the sight of his evil face. She hated the twitching moustache above yellow teeth, his mean little eyes that didn’t quite move simultaneously and peered at her from beneath a thatch of dark, greasy hair. Ned Swainson was not the sort of person one would choose as a friend, though better that by far than have him as your enemy.

  ‘What’s up? More problems?’ He was nothing if not succinct.

  ‘The police have been poking around, thanks to that dratted boy.’

  ‘They won’t find nowt. I fixed the car. The lad’s asking a lot of questions, from what I’ve heard.’

  Lucy was even more alarmed. ‘What sort of questions, of whom?’

  ‘Calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. It might be just rumour. If not, I’ll soon find out. I’m keeping a close eye on the situation.’

  ‘See that you do. I thought I’d got rid of him. Now he’s back and it won’t do. It won’t do at all. I don’t want anything to go wrong.’

  He fell silent, clearly chewing this over, so close to her in the confines of the car that she felt tainted by the strong smell of tobacco emanating from him together with something else she couldn’t quite put a name to, but far from pleasant. Lucy edged away. Yet as always he held a perverse fascination for her, and even now a twisted part of her mind wondered what he would be like as a lover.

  ‘The lad wouldn’t present much of a problem on his own. It’s the pretty widow, she’s the one we need to worry about. Want me to fix her an’ all?’

  There was a long pause before Lucy answered. ‘No, I shall deal with Kate. She’s going nowhere until I’m good and ready.’

  ‘Take care. We can’t have too many bodies littered about the bloody place. The police really would get suspicious then.’

  ‘Depends how it’s done,’ Lucy agreed with a calculating smile.

  They sat in the car for another hour, discussing various ways and means, and then Swainson made to leave.

  ‘There is one little task you could do for me. . .’

  ‘What’s that?’

  When she told him, he began to laugh, a harsh, barking rumble coming from the depth of his tobacco encrusted lungs. ‘I shall enjoy that. Anyroad, whatever you decide in the end, just mek sure you don’t implicate me. And I shall expect a sizeable reward for smoothing the path and helping you, preferably in the form of me old job back, but if that’s not on, I wouldn’t say no to a bit of hard cash instead.’ He held out one grubby palm and Lucy stared at it, perplexed.

  ‘Are you asking for money?’

  ‘I have expenses to meet, greasing other palms for one thing. Smoothing paths comes at a price.’

  Irritated, Lucy dug in her purse and tossed a few coins at him. Still the palm remained outstretched, and with a grunt of annoyance she tossed in a few more. ‘Don’t push me too far. I’ll not be bullied, not by anyone, not even you.’

  ‘I don’t reckon you’re in any position to argue.’ And on that disquieting note, he slipped quietly out of the car and disappeared into the night.

  Lucy sat on for a moment in the darkness, trembling with barely restrained anger. What had she started? The path she trod was a dangerous one, and she was not so stupid that she didn’t understand Swainson could easily turn against her, if he became dissatisfied with what she was offering. She needed more money, desperately.

  Later that same week Kate again sat in the summer house, her favourite place. These were a special feature of the town, gracing the long, narrow gardens of Edwardian and Georgian town houses alike. Many were made of the local limestone, although Eliot had chosen a pale green slate brought down from Coniston for his. It was an octagonal building with one arched window and a matching door, constructed on two floors; the lower one contained a tiny fireplace where Kate liked to light a fire in the cool of the evening and quietly read a book by lamplight. In the upper loft, open to the rafters, she and Eliot had spent many treasured moments alone. It soothed her to sit here and think of him.

  Callum was right, though. She really should get back to work. The factory needed her. Toby needed her. He’d sent several cards and messages via her son, but a part of Kate was afraid that if she became too involved in work she might forget Eliot, or lose touch with him in some way.

  In an alcove by the side of the fireplace she kept a selection of his books, along with a box of matches and the oil lamp. As she pulled out the lamp, preparatory to lighting it on this cool September evening, something heavy fell out of the alcove on to the floor. It made her jump.

  ‘Oh, what was that?’

  Alarmed, she quickly struck a match and what she saw made her blood run cold.
It was a rat: large, black and hairy with huge yellow teeth.

  Thankfully, it was dead. Kate shuddered, feeling proud of herself for not screaming, although she had squealed a little. But then this wasn’t the first rat she’d encountered, which helped. The creatures had been two a penny in Poor House Lane. This one had surprised her because she’d never seen one at Tyson Lodge in all the time she’d lived here, nor would she expect to, despite its close proximity to the river. Which no doubt was where this one had come from. Probably found itself trapped and had died. Of what? She wondered.

  Frowning, Kate peered more closely and was surprised to note that it had something fastened around its neck. It seemed to be a label with writing on it. Bending down, she overcame her disgust of the creature, struck another match, lit the lamp and held it close so that she could read in the gloom. The writing was clear, written in black ink, and consisted of two words: You next.

  Chapter Three

  ‘My dear, who would do such a thing?’ Not unnaturally Aunt Vera was appalled, and was all for calling in the council to fumigate the place. Kate managed to stop her.

  ‘Where would be the point? We live by the river. It flows right by the garden. They would say we are bound to get rats. It’s not important, and the gardener has already disposed of it. I didn’t want Flora to find it.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, no, of course not.’

  She’d made no mention to Vera and Cissie of the label tied around the creature’s neck, and had removed it before instructing Tom to toss the thing on the bonfire.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Lucy airily enquired, coming into the parlour to find the three of them in a huddle. They broke apart instantly.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Kate, rather too quickly, aware of surprised glances being exchanged between the two aunts. ‘Just enjoying what me old daddy would have called a chin-wag. “Holy Mauther, Katherine girl, he’d say. Have you nought better to do wi’ yer day?” ’ Kate laughed, rather louder than she should, though nobody else did.

  ‘Well, if it’s something funny, allow me to share the joke?’

  ‘No, tisn’t funny at all,’ said Kate, still laughing. The last thing she wanted was to tell Lucy about the rat.

  Because there was the possibility that she was the one responsible. It was the sort of malicious act which would give Lucy enormous pleasure. But Kate needed proof before she started making accusations. And if indeed it was Lucy, neither had she any wish to give her the satisfaction of seeing her discomfited by any such prank. ‘It’s just some person thinking I might have a typically female phobia about – about something, and I don’t.’ And now she laughed all the more.

  Clearly the two aunts thought her reaction to the creature was extraordinary, bordering on hysteria, so Kate beat a hasty retreat. Lucy must have thought her quite demented, laughing so uproariously over nothing at all.

  But however flippant she may wish to appear before them all, and even if she didn’t have a phobia about rats, Kate was nevertheless deeply concerned. If someone was trying to scare her, they had succeeded. Dealing with a dead rat was one thing. Finding one with a label round its neck which amounted to a death threat was another matter altogether.

  Who had put it there? That was the worry.

  Was it Lucy, or could it be Swainson? Would he hold a grudge against her for all these years because she’d accused him of abusing the women workers and got him sacked? But that was before the war. Why choose this moment to seek his revenge?

  Maybe because she was alone and vulnerable again.

  And what could Kate do about it? If she told Callum he’d go mad with rage, so he would. He’d be sure to link this to Eliot’s death and ask even more questions, turn over yet more stones. There’d been a great deal of malicious gossip about her in the past. The last thing Kate wanted was for her son to hear a lot of nasty lies about his mother. No doubt it was one of the old guard stirring up trouble again for some daft reason.

  Should she tell Toby? He would be quick to offer support, but for some reason Kate balked at involving her foreman in what surely was a personal matter and nothing at all to do with his role at the factory.

  She’d just have to treat it as a harmless prank, and keep her wits about her. Get off that elixir which Lucy kept giving her, and take a grip upon herself.

  ‘I have tummy ache, Mammy.’

  ‘Aw, now, what could have caused that, m’cushla? Did ye eat something that disagreed with you mebbe? Or are you trying to miss school today because it’s a mental arithmetic test?’

  ‘I like school, and I don’t mind arithmetic. Oh, but it hurts!’ Whereupon Flora suddenly retched and vomited all over Ida’s clean floor.

  She was sick many more times and Kate called the doctor, who told her not to worry, that it was quite normal for children to pick up stomach infections.

  ‘Plenty of fluids and rest, Mrs Tyson, and she’ll be right as rain in the morning.’

  But what if she isn’t? Kate thought. It was odd that Flora, normally such a healthy child, should suddenly become sick so soon after her mother had found the rat. Had the creature spread some sort of infection? Should she mention it to the doctor? Kate decided against it, not really believing such a thing to be possible. This wasn’t the Dark Ages, after all. Rats didn’t bring the plague any more. It was a childhood complaint, nothing more, and she was behaving like an over-fussy mother.

  Kate put Flora to bed, sat with her and soothed her with a cool, damp cloth till she fell asleep. Then she went to see Mrs Petty.

  ‘Has Flora eaten any eggs, Mrs P, inadvertently I mean?’

  ‘Bless me, no. I’m most careful about that, ever since we had that dreadful business years ago. I wouldn’t ever hurt the little lamb.’

  ‘No, I’m sure you wouldn’t. And nobody else would have call to be near her food, would they?’

  The two women gazed at each other in contemplative silence for a long moment. Finally, Mrs Petty gave a cautious response. ‘Not that I’m aware of, Mrs Tyson, but I’ll keep better watch in future, you can be sure of that.’

  ‘I’d be most grateful.’

  Neither of them said a word more about what, or who, she’d be watching, but Kate went away satisfied.

  For three days Flora was sick but then started to recover. On the fifth day she insisted on going back to school, although she was still pale and sickly looking.

  ‘I feel better now, Mammy. The sickness has gone away.’

  ‘Of course it has, me darling.’ But Kate’s worries had not. Not in the slightest.

  From that day on she never knew a moment’s peace of mind. If someone was out to hurt her, for whatever reason, she would deal with it. But if they were after her children too, then how could she ever hope to protect them? They had to go out into the world: Flora to school, Callum to his work, to his classes and his sports clubs. She couldn’t guard them every moment of their day. Who was it who wished to hurt them, and why? Surely it couldn’t be Lucy. Hadn’t she learned her lesson in the past? But if it was, and this was war, then who could Kate trust to help her?

  When the second rat was found, in Kate’s bathroom this time, the police were called. The aunts insisted upon it, and even Kate was unnerved by the rat’s close proximity to her bedroom, and more frightening still, to Flora’s.

  Constable Brown came within the hour wearing his usual bland, professional expression. ‘Now then, what have we here?’

  Vera showed him the rat. ‘Do not tell us, Constable, that it has come from the river because that much is obvious. The question is, how did it get upstairs and into the bathroom?’

  The constable eyed the creature with placid detachment. ‘Up the drainpipe, Miss Vera. Rats can be right nifty in drainpipes. But don’t you worry about it, I know a chap who can sort this problem out for you. Put down poison like.’

  Kate sat up, alarmed. ‘Poison? No, no, I don’t want any poison about the place.’

  ‘There’s no other way of getting rid of the nasty things, ma’am.’r />
  ‘But my daughter has been sick recently, I don’t want her to become ill again.’

  Lucy said, ‘For goodness sake, Kate, you’re becoming paranoid.’

  ‘Nay, li’le lass’d go nowhere near t’place where this chap’d put his poison. She’ll be quite safe.’

  Aunt Cissie for once interrupted. ‘You don’t think Flora being sick has anything to do with the other rat you found, do you, Kate?’

  Lucy gave a little squeal of dismay. ‘What other rat? Has there been more than one? Where? Oh, my goodness, we’re infested!’

  Kate felt trapped. ‘Sure, and it was nothing. I just found it in the summer house, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, you may be quite blasé about finding rats in summer houses, coming as you do from Poor House Lane and the gutter, but we cannot take such a casual view.’

  ‘Indeed, Miss Lucy is right. You should have reported the matter right away, ma’am,’ the constable gently scolded, ‘then summat could have been done. Rats is vermin, we don’t want a plague of them spreading all over Gooseholme. They need seeing to.’

  ‘We did suggest reporting it, dear,’ Cissie reminded her. ‘But you insisted on hushing the matter up, which wasn’t really sensible.’

  ‘No need to be embarrassed.’ Said Constable Brown, quite kindly. ‘Rats is common enough by the river.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I didn’t think it was an infestation. I believed someone had put it there deliberately, d’you see?’ Oh goodness, now she’d done it. Kate hadn’t meant to go that far.

  ‘Deliberately?’ The constable was instantly alert, wanting to know more. ‘Why would you imagine such a thing?’

  The decision to tell him about the label seemed to have been made without conscious thought, and was probably for the best. Hushing things up, as Aunt Cissie said, was not really a sensible option, not now that Flora was involved. The constable listened, open-mouthed. When she was done, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Kate to tell her tale, the silence in the room was palpable. Kate herself tried to ease the atmosphere, making light of the entire episode, already regretting her confession. She could almost feel Lucy’s eyes boring into her. ‘Someone was obviously playing a prank. Perhaps it was Georgie?’