The Journey

by Josephine Cox

  There it was again! His attention was drawn back, toward the high bend in the river, not too far from Lucy’s cottage. It sounded as if somebody was in trouble! Quickly now, he made his way back, pausing every now and then to catch his breath, and taking off again when a child’s wail shattered the night air.

  As he came round by way of the spinney, he saw a figure running in the moonlight; he was carrying something—what was it? A sack … a child? Dear Lord, it was a child! And coming up behind him was a woman, running and stumbling, and all the while calling out for the man to stop.

  When he recognized her, he was horrified. “Lucy?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. The woman was Lucy, and the child must be little Jamie … but the man—who was he? His name appeared in Barney’s mind like a lit beacon. FRANK TRENT! It had to be!

  “Lucy!”

  Quickening his steps to a run, time and again Barney called out her name, but Lucy didn’t hear. They were too close to that part of the river where the water tumbled over the rise and thundered down into the basin beneath.

  Gasping for breath, his chest afire, Barney took off again to gradually close the gap between them. He saw how, on reaching the river, Lucy launched herself at Trent. There was a struggle during which, with one backward swipe of his burly arm, Trent knocked her down.

  At the top of the rise, Barney had to stop again. He bent his head low, and with his hands on his knees, he took some long deep breaths, and after a moment or two, slowly regained his composure. When he set off again, he could see Frank Trent. With the child under his arm, he was using the moonlight to illuminate his way across the most dangerous part of the river—a line of big boulders straddling the water. Doggedly pursuing him, out of her mind with fear, Lucy was yelling for him to give her the child. Jamie was frantically struggling in the man’s arms, making the situation even more dangerous.

  When Trent ignored her pleas, she followed, slipping and sliding across the slimy boulders toward the far bank.

  “No, Lucy, come back!”

  When Barney yelled out, in a part of this nightmare Lucy heard, but she kept on going, because Frank Trent had her baby, and she would follow him to Hell if needs be.

  By the time Barney came to the river, Lucy and Frank Trent were locked in a fierce struggle on the rocks above the weir, with the terrorized child screaming hysterically.

  Desperate to get Lucy and her son out of there and with no thought for his own safety, Barney ran slithering over the boulders. Taking hold of her, he tried to get her to safety, but she wouldn’t listen; all she knew was that her baby was in terrible danger. When driven by desperation she foolishly made a grab for the child, Trent lost his footing, and to her horror Lucy went with him.

  Wading through the water to get to them, Barney saw Trent scrambling toward the shore and when, with the saturated clothes clinging to her body, Lucy went after him, Barney warned her to stay back. “Leave him to me, Lucy!” He bellowed a warning. “You’re putting the child in more danger!” But with reason long gone, she took no heed.

  Everything happened so quickly there was nothing Barney or anyone else could have done. Going against Barney’s advice, Lucy made another grab for the child. As she caught him safely in her arms, Trent missed his footing and fell into Lucy, who then lost her balance—and in seconds the fast-flowing river snatched Jamie from her arms and whirled him away in its embrace.

  Lucy made a brave effort to rescue her son, but not being a strong swimmer she was buffeted against every obstacle, as her son got washed farther away.

  Ahead of her, Barney got to the child first, but it was already too late. The force of water that had snatched him away and carried him downriver, had wedged him between two half-submerged rocks.

  When Barney found him, the water was swirling over his face, and there was nothing he could do.

  Desolate and bedraggled, he took the drowned child into his arms and waded upriver, to where Lucy was making her way toward them.

  At first she began shouting for joy. “You’ve got him!” She laughed out loud. “Oh Barney, you’ve got him!” Her heart soared at the sight of her boy, safe in Barney’s arms.

  With tears streaming down his solemn face, Barney looked into her eyes and slowly shook his head.

  When Lucy saw the expression on his face, it was as if the world had come to an end; there were no words to describe the horror that tore through her. For the longest, deepest moment, the silence in that place was awesome.

  As she tenderly took her baby from him, Lucy thought she would never again in her life know such pain.

  Half-blinded by her tears, she gazed on that small, still face and her heart-wrenching cry echoed across the valley, shaking the night and striking fear into the cowardly heart of Frank Trent, who by now was already some distance away.

  Seventeen

  Like everyone else in Comberton-by-Weir and far beyond, Leonard Maitland was deeply shocked by the events of that night.

  When Jamie Baker was laid to his rest, Leonard had been there for Lucy, along with her friends and neighbors; for with her parents split up and out of touch, with no thought or care for their little grandson, since he had been born—and died—out of wedlock, poor little mite, Lucy had no real family to help her through.

  The service was very emotional, and afterward, when everyone gathered at Overhill Farm, the air was thick with disbelief. No one there could recall anything of such a tragic nature happening in their lifetime.

  In the dark days that followed, Lucy withdrew into herself; by day she wandered restlessly over the fields and hills, as though searching for her lost child, and at night she headed blindly for Barney’s house, where he and Joanne and the children were waiting to give support and comfort. They, too, missed the little boy and were heartbroken.

  On this chilly day, with the date of departure fast approaching, Lucy and Barney prepared to visit Leonard Maitland. “Lucy, love, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Barney had worried about Lucy’s decision and had done all he could to change her mind, without success.

  He tried again to dissuade her, but she was adamant. “You and your family have been kindness itself,” Lucy told him, “but soon you’ll all be gone away. I have to take charge of my own life now.” Her voice broke. “You know how much I love the cottage, Barney, but I could never go back there, not without my little angel.” Taking a moment to compose herself, she said in a whisper, “How can I ever forgive myself, Barney?”

  “Whatever d’you mean?” But he knew well enough what she meant, for hadn’t he told her time and again that she was wrong?

  “I know you will never admit it, Barney, but it was all my fault.” Gulping back the tears, she went over that awful night in her mind. “If I’d only listened to you and kept back, you would have saved Jamie, I know you would …” When emotion overtook her, she crumpled into him and he held her close against his heart, his two arms keeping her safe while she sobbed helplessly.

  After a time, when she was quiet, they walked on, with Barney keeping his arm around her shoulders. “Listen to me, Lucy love,” he said tenderly. “What happened that night was no fault of yours. Evil took your baby, and the way things were, there was nothing more you or I could have done to prevent that terrible thing. We both tried our level best to save little Jamie, but it wasn’t enough.”

  He sighed from deep within. “Sometimes, sweetheart, there are greater powers in force than we could ever hope to understand.”

  Gently bringing her to a halt, he turned her round to face him. Looking into her reddened stricken eyes, he said emotionally, “I’m so proud of you, Lucy. We all are. You’ve come through what will probably be the worst time of your entire life, and you’ve already begun to make decisions.” He smiled wryly. “I don’t agree with the decision about moving back to Bridget’s, but it’s your life, and you have to do what you feel is right.”

  Lucy gave a little gulp. “The truth is, I don’t know what’s right any more,” she confessed tearfull
y. “All I know is that I have to make a new start, and before I can go forward, I need to go backward.”

  Even in her sorrow, she noted the change in Barney; the trauma of that night had made him look so terribly ill. Raising her hand, she laid it on the side of his dear face as though comforting him. “You mustn’t upset yourself on my account,” she pleaded. “You look so worn and tired, and I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

  Afraid that she might see how truly ill he was, he laid his hand over hers and, moving it from his face, held it tightly as they walked on. “You could never be a burden to us,” he said gruffly. “We love you like family, you know that.”

  Lucy smiled wistfully. “I know, and I love you for it, but I won’t always have you to lean on. I have to try and get my life together, if I can.”

  “You will.” He was sure of it. “But I’m not happy about this business today.”

  “It will be all right,” Lucy assured him.

  But he was far from satisfied.

  Some twenty minutes later, in Leonard Maitland’s study, the pair of them explained what Lucy had decided, and like Barney, Leonard disagreed with her. “Of course it’s your decision, my dear, but is it wise to return to your friend Bridget’s house? Don’t get me wrong, she’s charming and kind, and I know she’s been the best of friends to you, but she runs a bad house, Lucy. If you want my opinion, I don’t think that’s the right place for you to be.”

  “It’s the only place for me to be,” Lucy answered. “Since she took me in, and right up until I moved into your cottage, she was like a mother to me. We understand each other, and I know that when Barney and his family leave, she will be my rock. She’s been kind enough to ask me if I want to stay with her, and I’ve accepted.”

  “Well then, if your mind is made up, I have to ask if you will do something for me?”

  “If I can, I will,” Lucy readily agreed.

  On arriving, she had placed the keys to the cottage on his table. He now took them up and held them out to her. “Please take these back. I gave you the cottage to live in, with a secured tenancy, and though you may not want it at this moment in time, you may be glad of it later, when you’re able to think more clearly about your future and security.”

  When she hesitated, he lifted her hand and placed the keys on her palm. “Take them, Lucy. If you can’t go in yet, that’s fine, but there may come a day when you find comfort there. Whether you like it or not, the cottage is yours to live in, legal and binding.”

  With her hand still stretched out, Lucy remained unsure until, taking a step forward, Barney closed her fingers around the keys and pressed her arm to her side. “Mr. Maitland’s right,” he told her gruffly. “There might come a time when you need that cottage.”

  It was a moment before Lucy responded, and then she threw her arms round a startled but delighted Leonard Maitland. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes bright and sad, and her heart so sore she could hardly bear it. She had come dangerously close to being lost forever, but these kind, caring folks had brought her back from the brink of despair. Maybe after all, there was a future for her. Time alone would tell.

  On the way back, feeling unwell, Barney stopped several times on the pretense of watching a hare or seeing “summat running through the spinney.” Lucy saw nothing of what he pointed out, so deep in thought, she took him at his word.

  “I’m so glad Mr. Maitland managed to delay our voyage and the signing of the sale for another two weeks.” Having recovered for a while, Barney strolled beside her. “He’s a thoughtful sort, don’t you think?”

  Lucy agreed. “You’ve all done more than enough for me, and now I’ve prepared myself for you all to be leaving soon. An extra two weeks won’t change that, will it?”

  “Mebbe not, Lucy love, but Mr. Maitland is a real gentleman. He explained the circumstances to his solicitor, and out of respect for you, they’ve managed to hold it back, but only for the short term.” He had other reasons for being grateful that the leaving would be delayed. “Joanne will be pleased when I tell her. She’s been that worried about you.”

  When a short time later they relayed the news to Joanne, she was thrilled. “At least now we’ll have a little more time together and it will help you get used to the idea of us going. What’s more, I can satisfy myself that you’re properly settled before we leave.”

  While they carried on talking, Barney excused himself. “I’ve a few things to tend to,” he said, hurrying away before Joanne could question him too closely.

  Dodging anyone who knew him, Barney made his way to the village and Dr. Lucas’s afternoon surgery. There was no one else there, and he was quickly shown in. “I trust you’re here to tell me you’re now ready to admit yourself for the tests?” Having asked Barney several times to agree to go into the Infirmary, Dr. Lucas never gave up hope that his patient would at last change his mind.

  Barney, however, soon shattered the man’s expectations. “If I came in for the tests, would it improve matters in any way?”

  “I can’t promise that.” He was the kind of doctor who answered straightforward questions with straightforward answers. “As I’ve already explained, your heart is badly diseased, but we can’t tell how badly until we investigate further.” Having already observed Barney’s labored breathing and the gray pallor of his skin, he was deeply concerned. “I hope you realize how serious your condition is?”

  “I’m beginning to.” Barney was truthful. “I’ve noticed how quickly I get tired of late, and sometimes it hurts to breathe.” He gave a bright smile. “But I’m still here and I’m still fighting, so it can’t be all that bad, can it?”

  Giving no answer, but taking the stethoscope from around his neck, the doctor asked Barney to go behind the screen and take off his shirt. A moment later, he gave Barney a thorough examination.

  “Right! You can put your shirt back on now,” he said, walking away and perching himself on the edge of his desk. There was a look of apprehension on his face.

  “Well?” Barney, too, was apprehensive. “Is it worse?”

  “Bad enough.” Looking directly at Barney he told him flatly, “You’re playing with fire, man.”

  “In what way?”

  “You haven’t followed my instructions at all, have you?”

  “Yes, I have,” Barney blustered. “I’m taking the medication, just as you advised.”

  “That’s only part of it, and even that is only a short-term precaution until we know the extent of the damage. You haven’t slowed up much in your work, and I’ve seen with my own eyes how you still slave away on the farm, even after I warned you not to exert yourself.”

  Anger thickened his voice as he reprimanded his patient. “Good God, man! Are you intent on killing yourself? Keep on the way you are, and I can’t promise you’ll be alive a year from now, or even less!”

  Barney had known he was ill, but to have it spelled out like that, shocked him to the core. “I’m a working man, Doctor,” he said quietly. “I can’t stop doing what I do; the cows won’t milk themselves if I can’t do it. My sons are a boon, but they need me with them a while yet.”

  The doctor did not mince his words. “If you continue to ignore my advice, they won’t have you at all.”

  “Then tell me this.” Barney was torn all ways. “If I stopped working right now, and sat about like a cabbage in a patch, would that prolong my life by any great measure?”

  The doctor carefully considered Barney’s question before giving an honest if vague answer. “As I told you before, we don’t really know with these things. Your heart is in bad shape, and if you agreed to slow right down, that could well improve matters. I can’t be more specific than that.”

  Barney’s courage was never as low as it was in that moment; he was afraid for himself, but more so for his beloved family. When he spoke now, his words were sure and final. “There will be no hospital, and no tests,” he said gruffly. “If I have a year, or less, then so be it.” Standing to leave, he smi
led wearily. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

  Dr. Lucas had known Barney well, and it pained him to see his spirit so low. “I’m very sorry,” he said. “I only wish there was something more I could do.”

  “There is.”

  “Then name it.”

  “Without me to drag them down, my family have the chance to start a new life, and nothing must spoil that.”

  The doctor was astonished. “What are you saying? Surely you don’t still intend taking such a long and arduous journey?”

  “That’s for me to decide,” Barney replied firmly. “All I’m asking of you is that what transpires between you and me goes no further.”

  Dr. Lucas nodded. “I believe we’ve already agreed on that.”

  “And do I have your word, as a gentleman?”

  “As a gentleman and a doctor, yes.”

  Barney shook him by the hand. “Goodbye. I won’t be coming to see you again.”

  He left then, a wiser, sadder man. A man who knew what must be done, and had to find the courage to see it through.

  Eighteen

  “Excuse me, miss … I believe this is your stop.”

  The bus conductor had noticed how Lucy was not watching the landmarks. Instead, she sat deep in thought, in the far corner, sometimes looking out of the window, sometimes with her eyes closed. Now, staring ahead, she appeared to have no idea of her surroundings.

  Startled by his concerned tap on the shoulder, Lucy thanked him and made her way to the platform. When the bus came to a halt, she quickly clambered off.

  It had been comfortingly quiet on the bus, but now as she set off in the direction of the church, the noise and bustle of Liverpool was all around her; the clatter of horse and cart, the smell and sound of petrol-driven vehicles; the sight of rich women in furs, poor women in thin coats and men in suits, all going about their business. This was Friday, a day when people looked forward to their weekend and couldn’t wait for the day to end. But for Lucy, since losing her child, every day seemed the same.