Rosemerryn

by Rosemerryn (retail) (epub)

  ‘Looks like we nearly had another murder here, maybe two,’ Whitehead said, crouching over Alfie and dabbing at the blood spattered thickly on his ginger hair.

  ‘I hit Gerald Uren with a saucepan, officer,’ Alison spoke up defiantly. ‘I had to, or he would have murdered Alfie, Mrs Uren and maybe even the little girl too. I don’t regret it and I’d do it again if I have to.’

  ‘I’ve heard all about Uren’s brutality,’ Whitehead said, shaking his head. ‘You can tell the villagers are close, but it always seems to take a newcomer to do something about a situation like this. Go with Uren to the hospital, Sergeant. When he comes round, charge him with assault and attempted murder.’

  Dolores looked down at her lover. ‘I’ll stand in court and testify against him. After that I never want to see him again.’ For good measure she muttered a curse on Gerald.

  Chapter 33

  Tressa was walking back home from the village. She had been to see Dolores, to ask after Alfie and to see if she could be of any help. Dolores had been grateful to have someone to chat to for a few minutes while she rested in bed, but the district nurse was calling twice a day, Alison Hoskins was looking after the house and Roslyn was caring for Rodney and Emily at the vicarage. With Alfie recovering from concussion and a fractured skull in hospital, Colin had ably taken over as ‘head of the household’.

  Tressa felt a queer sort of disappointment at not being needed. Much as she loved being a mother and was looking forward to the new baby, she was feeling at a loss, being used to long hours of hard manual work. Now Tregorlan had lost Bert Miller, it was frustrating watching the new farm boy making mistakes and needing instruction, and she not able to throw herself into the task wholeheartedly, but she realised the sense of not risking a miscarriage.

  Usually at this time of the year Tressa took pleasure in the changes the autumn brought to the landscape and hedges. Today, though, she could almost agree with the claims of the soulless that the giant granite boulders and Hawk’s Tor looked alarming and aloof, that the ever-present wind bending grass, reeds and bracken made a picture that was bleak and foreboding, even threatening. There had been the occasional shower throughout the morning but Tressa had spurned taking a coat; now the sky was heavy, lowering, clouds darkening. Rain was on the way. She shivered, and not just because she was feeling cold. There had been some grim happenings in the last few weeks, the very air seemed tainted with death and violence, and she couldn’t get rid of the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her.

  The hedges were high along this part of the lane and she couldn’t see the open moor and fields, she felt uncomfortably hemmed in. There was a sudden rustle in the hedge close by and water dripped off a patch of cow parsley, their dead heads nodding as if they had come to life. Tressa gasped and walked faster still. Common sense told her it had only been a little creature scurrying about, but she felt as if she was being stalked. Since Harry Lean had assaulted her with his disgusting proposition she tended to jump like this at the slightest noise and often cried for no reason. She would never forgive him.

  Sometimes she had this nightmare about him.

  He was the lord of a fairytale castle. Dark arid handsome, in full evening suit and black tie, a cape over his broad shoulders, he stood in the courtyard, smiling with all his sleazy charm, beckoning to her through the sparkling mists that swirled around him.

  She was walking towards him, dressed in a Cinderella ballgown, silver slippers on her feet, her hair flowing. She didn’t want to go to him but she had no choice. She tried to halt her steps but her feet kept moving, inexorably, towards him. She passed over a drawbridge made of rainbow bubbles, and then there were only three granite slabs of hard ground between them. She stopped here every time.

  And he came for her. She could not go back. She heard the drawbridge rising, portcullis being lowered. She was trapped! She opened her mouth to shout at him to stop, to leave her alone, but the words would not come.

  He reached for her. She could not run, she could not move. His hands were on her waist, drawing her to him. His face was coming closer and closer. His eyes opened wider and he said, huskily, ‘I’m going to have you, Tressa. Make no mistake about that.’ And he laughed in triumph.

  She struggled to get away. His lips were about to claim hers. She struggled with all her might. She would be crying in her sleep and Andrew would wake her, soothe her and hold her in his arms. The worst feeling when she woke was knowing that Andrew and Guy had not existed in her dream, and although she’d tell herself it wasn’t her fault she dreamed like that, she’d feel guilty.

  Andrew fussed over her when she was tired and irritable but, like Joan and Jacka, he put it down to her pregnancy. She wasn’t enjoying a trouble-free time like she had carrying Guy. The morning sickness showed no sign of easing off and could last all day. Her back and the tops of her legs ached and her belly felt weighed down although she was only four months gone.

  A streak of lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating it in an eerie golden colour, and was followed quickly by a loud clap of thunder. Tressa’s spine went rigid, she involuntarily swallowed hard and saliva gagged in her throat. She could have screamed in sheer frustration. She had never been nervous during storms before but this sort of terrestrial behaviour was too close to her nightmare for comfort. Once again she cursed the man responsible.

  Next moment the rain came down in torrents. Guy started to howl and she stopped to stroke his face and make sure the waterproof covers of the pram were doing their job. ‘Please, darling, calm down. Mummy’s walking as fast as she can.’

  A strange honking noise came from somewhere behind her. Tressa was thoroughly spooked. She broke into a run, making Guy bounce about in the pram and shriek, his chubby little face going tight and crimson. Apart from the talk of ghosts which came with ease to the villagers’ lips these days, there definitely was someone hanging about the locality. Only last night milk had been stolen from Tregorlan’s cow shed. The thief could be watching her right now.

  She ran for several minutes then recognised the mulled sounds of a motorcar being driven slowly over the wet muddied tarmac. It was coming up behind her. The sound she had heard had only been the car’s horn, warning other road users it was there as it negotiated a bend. Feeling relieved that someone she probably knew was about, someone she could pass a cheery word with, she slowed down to a comfortable pace. She watched and listened for more lightning and thunder, but as is often the case, there was no storm, just a token protest of temperature clashes up in the heavens. She didn’t see the next flash behind the security of the hedge and the thunder was just a soft rumble.

  Everything seemed all right now. The rain eased off and soon it would stop altogether. Wondering how she could be so silly, Tressa looked at Guy and began to sing to him. He went quiet and gazed at her curiously with the appealing boss-eyed look given only to babies. Tressa laughed at him and he rewarded her with a happy chuckle. In a few more minutes she would be home. She’d dry her hair and change her clothes. Andrew was leaving the office early today and she could soon snuggle up in his tender arms. He was planning to take her away for the weekend, the location a surprise, and although it would be a wrench leaving Guy for the first time, she was looking forward to having Andrew all to herself.

  The car was getting closer. Just up ahead was a gateway. She would have to push the pram into it; there was not enough room in the lane for a big pram and any vehicle. To protect her shoes and the pram wheels she pushed it over the grassy patches, avoiding the deep mud-filled ruts. Cool fresh air flowed over her from the fields, and although it chilled her in her wet condition, she welcomed the sharp tangy breeze. She could hear the car taking the bends very slowly and she hoped she was far enough out of the way not to get splashed.

  Her heart fell like a rock when the car came into sight. It was a horribly familiar, red and black Vauxhall sedan and its driver was the last man on earth she wanted to see.

  Harry brought the car to a gentle s
top and got out. He approached her cautiously but Tressa did not notice. She looked around for something to defend herself with, her eyes alighting on a stout stick in the ditch. She stationed herself on guard in front of the pram.

  ‘Hello, Tressa. Everything all right, is it?’ He didn’t saunter over to her to get close but stayed a couple of feet away. He was smiling lightly and she was somewhat taken aback to see he had grown a neat moustache. The clothes he was wearing were not his usual flamboyant style; a plain jumper topped an ordinary pair of grey trousers.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be all right?’ she confronted him angrily.

  ‘I – I just thought with you being here…’

  ‘I’m here to let you pass,’ she retorted, her tone and expression exclaiming, did he think she was stupid? She didn’t know what game he was playing this time, but he only had to say one suggestive word and he’d get the stick round his blasted head.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, peering round her into the pram. ‘Your baby’s grown well since I last saw him.’ He glanced at her middle but did not mention her new pregnancy.

  Tressa eyed him coldly, alert, hostile.

  Harry put his hands into his pockets. He knew he wasn’t welcome here but wanted to linger. He moved two paces towards his car. He wanted Tressa to see he was no longer a threat to her. ‘I was shocked to hear what’s been happening in the village since I’ve been in London. I read about Mrs Noon in the national newspapers. Mother said the police are anxious to trace the whereabouts of Bruce Tamblyn. It seems he brutally killed a man in Canada. I suppose you’ve had reporters about the place.’

  ‘A few.’

  ‘I’m on my way to see Alfie in hospital. I’m going to fix up a holiday for the whole family when Mrs Uren has had her baby. I’ve got a friend with a holiday cottage at Sennen Cove. He said they could use it for as long as they like. It will be nice and peaceful at this time of the year. Sea air will help Alfie to recover fully.’

  A bitter wind blew through the gateway and Tressa shivered.

  ‘Good Lord, you’re wet through,’ Harry gasped. ‘I didn’t notice. Let me lend you my car rug to keep you warm.’ He was already on his way to the car.

  ‘I don’t want anything from you,’ Tressa hurled.at his back. ‘Just leave me alone, Harry Lean.’

  He turned and looked at her sorrowfully. ‘I meant what I said on the beach, Tressa. I realised that I was behaving vilely and unacceptably towards you. I can’t deny that I’ll always find you attractive but I mean you no harm now.’

  ‘And I’ll never trust you.’ She thrust her chin forward. ‘Go back to London and stay there for good!’

  Harry did not argue. He drove off, careful not to send mud splattering over Tressa and the pram. He took the next bend with great care. Since the shock of realising what his character really was he saw many things in a different light. He hadn’t seen any danger in tearing along the lanes like a mad hound before. But what if he had come across a child – little Rodney perhaps – or a cyclist – Laura – or a woman with a pram – Tressa – and maimed or killed them? What a risk he had been to Mrs Noon and her pony, poor old soul, and what a terrible end she’d had, he thought sadly.

  He had told his mother he’d spent the weeks in London working on a piece of lucrative business. In fact he hadn’t done anything, just lounged about his flat, reading, listening to the wireless, mostly thinking. He hadn’t looked up any of his friends, hadn’t had one sexual encounter. He had considered his life, his future. He could never have Tressa, he knew that. If he lived the life of a monk, doing only charitable works, if Macarthur left her or died, she would never want anything to do with him. Harry had thought about getting married himself, producing an heir. Perhaps one day he would, but not now, not while his love for Tressa was so new to him.

  He was driving along a straight stretch of road when to his astonishment four bullocks came thundering down the lane heading straight for him. Something had panicked them and nothing was going to stop them. His first thoughts were not for himself or his car. Tressa would have left the gateway and be walking again by now. She wouldn’t have time to run back to safety, there was no open moor here and nowhere else to pull in. She and her baby could be stampeded to death.

  Putting the car into reverse, he hurtled back along the lane for several yards then eased off on the accelerator, not wanting to plough into Tressa himself. Bringing the car to a halt, at an angle he hoped might stop or slow down the cattle, he ran back down the lane shouting Tressa’s name.

  ‘Tressa! Tressa! Get up off the road. You’re in danger!’

  Seeing him running towards her, waving his arms wildly, made Tressa freeze with fear. What was he up to now? She swung the pram round and ran back the way she had come. If she hadn’t already been feeling so nervous and distrustful of Harry, she might have stopped and listened to him, realised there really was a terrible danger. A survival instinct took over, but it was the wrong one, the need to get away as far as possible from Harry Lean.

  Harry caught up with her and yanked hard on her shoulder to try to stop her. ‘Wait, Tressa! You don’t understand.’

  Tressa screamed, ‘Get away from me, you animal!’

  ‘But you’re in terrible danger. Get up the hedge!’

  She kept running, trying to beat him off. Harry was desperate. He heard a terrific thud and a bullock bellow in pain and knew it had hit the car. Similar noises meant the other three bullocks had scrambled up the bank on either side of the car and were continuing their crazed run. There was nothing else for it. He pushed Tressa away from the pram and she fell on her backside on the road. She shrieked and threatened him as he pulled back on the pram handle to stop it moving and undid the waterproof cover protecting Guy.

  ‘Leave my baby alone. I’ll kill you!’ In her desperation she thought Harry was going to use Guy to force her into having sex with him.

  The danger will come in an unexpected way. Dolores’ warning. This must be it!

  She didn’t hear the cattle bearing down on them. She got to her feet, and as Harry grabbed Guy by his knitted pram suit and hauled him out, she kicked him violently in the shin. Then she was clawing at Harry to get hold of her baby.

  ‘Tressa! Stop it. For heaven’s sake, can’t you see?’

  She could see nothing but danger to her baby and fought Harry like a lioness. Guy was wailing in terror and struggling and it was a hard task for Harry not to drop him.

  The bullocks were only yards away. Harry thrust Tressa away from him and leapt up the bank, hoping that she would follow him and fight for her baby again. But she didn’t hurl herself after him; instead she yanked on his legs trying to pull him down.

  Harry had no choice. The first bullock was veering towards the bank and it would knock Tressa to the ground, to be trampled by the flailing hooves of the two bullocks careering after it. He threw Guy up to the top of the bank, praying the child would hit a grassy spot and not a stone. A scream ripped from Tressa’s throat for her son.

  Bending over, Harry grasped Tressa desperately by the collar of her cardigan and lifted her up. She gagged and choked but her fists were still flying. Reaching down, he lifted her legs up out of harm’s way and it was then, through the corner of her eye, that she saw the peril they were in. She clawed at him, to hold on to him this time, and with one mighty effort he thrust her further up the bank.

  As the terrified beasts hurtled past, Harry began to slip. Seeing what was happening, Tressa clutched his jumper and tried to haul him up beside her. She wasn’t strong enough. She managed to keep a grip on his upper body but the first bullock crashed into his legs and the next one ran over his foot.

  Stunned, Tressa watched helplessly as the cattle stampeded on, crushing, bending and twisting her pram. Her thoughts returned to Guy. She let go of Harry and he slid down in a heap on the tarmac but she had to put her son first. He wasn’t far away, whimpering softly.

  ‘It’s all right, darling,’ she sobbed. ‘Mummy’s coming for you.�
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  Tressa crawled up to reach him. He was lying on a patch of moss, his face pale and shocked. She tried to gain eye contact with him to give him comfort but he gazed, unblinking, over her shoulder. Crying raggedly, making a tremendous effort to keep control, she picked him up very carefully, then holding him close in her trembling arms she swivelled round and slowly eased herself down to the road.

  ‘H-Harry, are you all right?’

  He was in a sitting position. She shook as she lowered herself down in front of him, then tucking Guy safely against her, she lifted Harry’s drooping head. ‘Harry, Harry.’

  He opened his eyes groggily. He had been blissfully unconscious for a few moments. ‘Oh God. My bloody foot! Oh, my legs. A-are you all right, Tressa? Guy?’

  ‘I – I’m fine. He’s a bit quiet, I hope he’s not hurt. I’ve got to get help. I’m s-sorry, Harry. If I’d known what you were trying to do… it’s all my fault.’

  He moaned and let his head flop back. ‘I’d do anything for you, Tressa. Don’t worry… my comeuppance… past sins and all that.’ He gazed at his left foot. ‘Looks like the old foot’s bought it.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘R-rather odd angle, don’t you think?’

  Her stomach in knots, Tressa looked from his stricken face to his feet. The left one was indeed twisted at a grotesque angle, bone was sticking out and blood was pouring onto the wet road and running in tiny red rivulets. ‘Oh God. You’re badly hurt. I’ll go to get help at once. Try not to move, Harry.’

  ‘Won’t have any d-difficulty with that.’ He groaned in agony but somehow through the searing pain he managed to smile at her.

  Tressa patted his shoulder. ‘I’ll try not to be long. Ohhhh!’

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Arrggh!’ Tressa doubled over. Unbearable spasms of pain were ripping through her stomach. She fell against Harry, and clung to him.

  Chapter 34

  Laura knew Tressa had been going to see Dolores. She should be home by now. Laura had run out of spice to make Vicki’s favourite gingerbread men, so rather than ring Tressa to find out how Dolores and Alfie were, she decided to go over to Tregorlan Farm and borrow some ginger and ask after the Urens then. She waited for the last heavy shower of rain and the thunder and lightning to end before putting on her mac and boots, tying on a scarf and picking up an umbrella.