‘He most definitely is,’ Melissa snarled.
Panic was making her heart pound as Brenda struggled to find the right words to prove her case. ‘I recognised the monkey instantly. I bought it to celebrate his birth, days before he was born.’
‘What nonsense you talk. It’s just a toy.’
‘Quite a rare one, so I don’t believe it to be a coincidence. I think it’s most definitely the one I bought.’
Melissa gave a caustic little laugh. ‘You have no proof of that. Having wheedled your way into our home and business, you’re now attempting to steal my son? You’re a vicious little thief.’
Brenda watched in horror as Melissa marched into the hall and snatched up the phone. The moment it was answered she quickly announced who she was before bursting into a flood of crocodile tears. ‘Oh, PC Matthews, please come quickly. There is a woman here at Trowbridge Hall who is attempting to steal my child.’
*
PC Matthews stood before them in the drawing room with pencil and notebook in hand, a grim expression upon his face. ‘Name, please,’ he said, licking the pencil as he glared at Brenda.
Giving a deep sigh, Brenda told him, quietly adding, ‘I’m Jack’s widow, and perfectly innocent of this charge.’
‘What’s going on here?’ Hugh asked, walking in upon them.
Before Brenda had the chance to give her side of the story, Melissa flung herself into her brother’s arms. ‘This tart of a woman is trying to steal Ross.’
He blinked in surprise as he looked over at Brenda. ‘What is she talking about? That surely cannot be true.’
‘Of course it isn’t,’ she answered, feeling a wave of relief as Hugh came to put his arms about her. ‘I would do no such thing.’
‘Quite,’ he said, glaring at his sister. ‘Why would she?’
PC Matthews gave a cough. ‘I am the one asking questions, sir, if you don’t mind. ‘Miss Stuart, have you abducted Mrs Fenton’s child?’
Finding her courage in the comfort of Hugh’s arms, she firmly responded, ‘Mrs Stuart. No, of course I haven’t. But he isn’t her child, he’s mine.’
‘Good lord, what are you saying?’
Meeting his sympathetic gaze, Brenda felt her panic start to subside. ‘How she got her hands on him I’ve no idea, but I know in my bones that he is most definitely my son, and…’
‘How can you know that?’
‘Because he has a toy which…’
Melissa instantly interrupted, ‘Don’t believe a word this madam is saying,’ she cried, crocodile tears starting to roll down her cheeks. ‘This harlot is lying yet again, determined to get her greedy hands on the family inheritance by any means possible. She is a most dreadful woman and should be arrested. That is the reason I called you, PC Matthews, in case she runs off with my child.’
The police constable cleared his throat. ‘Are you saying that the boy is safe?’
‘He is upstairs with his nanny, yes.’
Tucking his pencil and notebook back into his top pocket, he gave a little sigh. ‘Then I cannot charge this young lady with abduction, or anything, in fact. Should there be a dispute over custody, the court is the only means of resolving the matter. I can do nothing. Good day to you,’ and with a polite bow he turned to leave.
‘I’ll see you out,’ Hugh politely said, opening the door to lead him through the hall.
The moment they left, Melissa glared at Brenda, twisting her mouth into a cynical grimace. ‘Be assured you’ll never get your hands on him while I live and breathe. He’s mine!’
Thirty
In the days following, the atmosphere in Trowbridge Hall became quite chilling. Hugh had gone away for a few days, claiming he had an important meeting to attend, or was he simply avoiding Brenda? He hadn’t said another word on the matter, promising they’d talk when he returned. It felt as if it had become a taboo subject. Nor did Brenda see any sign of Melissa, the children or Nanny Holborn. Finding herself ignored by the entire family, she went to speak to Prue. Seeing the doubt in her friend’s eyes as she explained about the monkey, filled her with fear and trembling. Brenda began to wonder if she’d made a terrible mistake.
‘Flora has a teddy, of which there are any number the same,’ Prue gently pointed out. ‘There could well be dozens of those monkeys too.’
‘I haven’t seen any, not here in England. And in my heart I know that Ross is my son.’
Prue stifled a sad sigh as she put her arms around Brenda’s quivering shoulders to give her a comforting hug. ‘I can fully understand your anguish, and how you might imagine such a thing to be possible. I hardly dare to think how I would react were I to lose little Flora, but I’m afraid that toy is more likely to be a coincidence.’
‘I am aware that without proof I’ll get nowhere,’ Brenda admitted. She’d latched on to this toy as a possible solution without logic or proper thought, let alone the evidence she really needed. Was she failing to see things sensibly, due to all the traumas she’d suffered? Brenda felt the need suddenly to withdraw from life, to hide herself away and nurse the pain plummeting within her.
‘If I can help in any way, just let me know,’ Prue promised as Brenda made hasty excuses and left. As she hurried away she experienced emotions that frightened and overwhelmed her. Was she going mad? Would these feelings of fear, anger, guilt and grief ever go away? How she longed for a quiet, happy life of peace, one over which she had some control.
Over the next few days she found herself withdrawing more and more from the family, occasionally eating in the kitchen with Mrs Harding and Carter, otherwise in the peace and quiet of her room. Then one evening, when she returned after a long day’s work, it was to find her old brown suitcase packed and set at the foot of her bed, with a note attached. ‘LEAVE NOW’, it stated in bold print.
Is that what she should do? Clearly she was no longer welcome here, not even by Hugh, who perhaps held the same doubts as Prue. She was beginning to feel that they could be right and she had made a terrible mistake. She could go and stay with Cathie in Castlefield, or find another flat to rent. Then she could seek advice from the family solicitor about PC Matthews’ suggestion to take the matter to court. Although, even if she did find proof, she held little hope of ever winning her son back, particularly when she remembered all that Emma had told her about such cases.
Brenda’s eyes flooded with tears as she contemplated spending the rest of her life without him. Too dreadful to imagine. The vision of him cuddled in her arms with Minki the monkey filled her with pain yet again. She really must strive to stay strong and never give up. Wasn’t that what Emma constantly urged her to do? But it may be wise for her to leave Trowbridge Hall to avoid further dispute, which could completely destroy what little was left of her courage. Brenda went downstairs to ask Mr Carter if he would drive her to the station. Giving a slight frown, the butler looked out of the kitchen window at the rain filling the darkening sky.
‘I doubt that would be sensible at this time of an evening.’
‘And you haven’t eaten any supper yet, chuck,’ Mrs Harding reminded her, scurrying over while exchanging a worried glance with Carter. ‘We know you have some problem with the family, which is nowt to do wi’ us, but tha needs to sit down and eat summat, to keep thee strength up. Carter can take you to the station in the morning, if tha still wants to leave.’ And taking Brenda’s coat and suitcase from her, eased her into a chair at the kitchen table and placed a plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding before her. ‘Now eat up every scrap. Oh, and a letter arrived for thee today.’
Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the envelope Mrs Harding placed before her. Could this be the answer she was seeking?
*
Brenda lay curled up in bed that night reading the letter from Nancy Seymour, the young nanny. She was amazed to discover that following the telegram the family had received announcing Camille’s death, Adèle had written to Melissa to inform her that she was now in charge of Jack’s son. Why had
it been addressed to Melissa? Brenda wondered. Then she remembered Prue saying she would have no wish to even read such dreadful news. It was true that people lived in fear of telegrams, and would sometimes take days to pluck up the courage to open them. Or else Melissa had deliberately kept it from the rest of the family because it held information about baby Tommy. She may have been the only person who responded to the telegram, and gave Adèle her London address. Opening the letter again, Brenda continued to read what Nancy had to say:
‘That lovely lady, Adèle, brought the baby to London, believing that as Camille was now dead, it would be safer for him to be in England with his family. We met her at Victoria Station. She put him into my arms and I fell in love with the little one at first sight. She told us that you, his poor mother, had been interned in some camp or other but she’d no idea where, or if you would survive. I’m so pleased to hear that you did. She was on her way to join her late husband’s family in America in order to stay safe herself, having been helped to escape France by the US Consulate. The thing is, Mr Fenton was annoyed with his wife for producing three daughters and no son. And as he’d been abroad for some time, she took it into her head to pass the boy off as her own. I believe she saw this child as the answer to all the problems in her marriage. I don’t think she told anyone about Adèle’s letter or the arrival of this baby.’
‘So I was right,’ Brenda muttered to herself. And despite being desperate for a son, it was the nanny who’d instantly taken him into her arms, not Melissa. So she viewed him only as a means of saving her failing marriage. How cruel and selfish of her. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Brenda punched up the pillows to prop herself against them with new determination, and carried on reading:
‘I pointed out to Mrs Fenton that the child’s mother could well survive and come looking for him. She kept saying you were probably already dead, and even if you did survive would never find him as France was in such turmoil. And what a lovely surprise it would be for her husband to find he at last had the son he so badly wanted. We argued furiously over her decision. I insisted it was perfectly legal for her to foster the boy but surely entirely illegal to claim him as her own. As a result, I was instantly dismissed. That was disappointing in a way, as he was a lovely baby and I adored him. Yet it was a great relief that I would not be charged for being involved in such a crime. I do hope he is well and happy. I’m afraid I don’t have Adèle’s address. Oh, and please don’t use my name or reveal what I’ve just told you. She’s a nasty piece of work and would be sure to come looking for me and create fresh havoc. No doubt get me sacked from my current job too.’
Brenda quietly wept as she read the letter over and over again. What a selfish brute of a woman Melissa was. What on earth possessed her to imagine she had the right to steal a child when there was no proof that she, his mother, was dead?
What to do next was the question. Clearly this young nanny was very fearful of her former employer, which Brenda could well understand. She felt obliged to keep her name secret, as the poor girl had poignantly requested. Nor was she any nearer to finding Adèle. Sadly, this meant that gathering the necessary evidence the court would demand, remained a problem. Brenda still had no proof other than that little monkey. Should she challenge Melissa again on the subject, or just keep quiet for now and deal with it later in court?
*
Brenda was standing in the hall the next morning waiting for Carter to bring the car round when Hugh arrived. Tossing his trilby hat aside, he came quickly over to give her a hug and a peck on each cheek. ‘Ah, there you are, darling. How are you?’ Noticing the suitcase by her feet, he frowned in puzzlement. ‘Goodness, where are you off to?’
‘Back to Manchester,’ Brenda coolly responded, anguish in her heart. ‘I can’t stay where I’m not wanted.’
There was a slight pause before he answered, a sad bleakness in his eyes as he met her troubled gaze. ‘You are wanted, my love. Not only by me but also at the factory. You’re a hard worker and a real entrepreneur.’
Could she believe him? Brenda felt a strong desire to fall into his arms and ask if that was the only reason he needed her, but managed to hold herself firmly in check. It was vital for her to remain clearheaded and not be ruled by emotion. ‘All those ladies are now fully trained, so I’m sure they can manage perfectly well without me.’
‘I very much doubt it. You are our star representative when it comes to gaining sales, as well as brilliant at organising the staff’s work routine. Has this decision anything to do with that incident with Gregory?’
She frowned. ‘If you mean his attempt to kiss me, I made sure to avoid him after that.’
‘Yet according to Melissa, you invited him to your room,’ he quietly remarked.
Brenda gasped. ‘How dare she suggest such a thing? You surely don’t believe her?’
He appeared to relax as he smiled at her. ‘Not really. She does tend to dramatise things to suit herself. So what did happen?’
Brenda briefly described how he’d slipped in but she’d managed to see him off with a poker. ‘The next day I got Joe to fix a bolt on the door.’
‘Well done. That makes much more sense. Then why leave?’
Just then Melissa emerged out of the dining room, arms folded in her usual arrogant stance. ‘Why should she not? It’s such a relief to hear that she’s going at last.’
Carefully choosing her words to avoid revealing the young nanny’s name, Brenda met the other woman’s triumphant gaze with an outward show of calmness she was far from feeling within. ‘Was it to please your husband that you stole my son, because you’d only given him daughters? Is that the reason you decided to claim him as your own?’
Melissa flinched as if she’d been slapped in the face, then turning to Hugh said, ‘This harlot is absolutely insane. Get her out of here.’
‘Don’t keep calling her by that dreadful name. In any case, Brenda is making an interesting point. I’ve been making a few enquiries myself these last few days, with the solicitor and at the Public Record Office, but found no evidence of Ross’s birth. Now why is that? Tell us the truth, Melissa. Are Brenda’s suspicions about Gregory’s demands correct, or not? He certainly is a dictatorial sort of man.’
In the taut silence that followed Brenda felt a warm glow of gratitude that Hugh was not only still supporting her, but had done some research on her behalf.
‘I’ve told you a thousand times that she is a liar and a cheat, a tart of the worst order. You know damn well that Ross is my son! Hasn’t he lived with us all his life?’
‘Or else he was brought to England when he was just a baby,’ Brenda said. ‘Was that with Adèle or the OSE?’ How she wished she could confront her with the true facts she’d learned, but felt a responsibility to keep that young nanny safe.
Arrogantly ignoring her, Melissa continued to address her brother in fury. ‘I haven’t the first idea what she is talking about. Ross does not belong to this greedy little whore who is simply eager to get her hands on anything she can, in order to drag herself out of the gutter.’
Hugh flapped his hands in an attempt to calm his sister down. ‘I appreciate you have problems, Melissa, but do try to cool that temper of yours. Constantly losing it achieves nothing, something I’ve learned these last few months, thanks to Brenda. And I really have no wish for her to leave,’ he said, slipping his arm around Brenda’s waist. ‘Like it or not, Melissa, she is a part of our family and playing a vital role in the growth of the business. Besides which, there is absolutely no proof that she’s a liar and a cheat. Nor did she invite your husband into her bed. He made that decision and she beat him off, being the brave woman she is.’
‘Drat you! What an idiot you are to believe every damn thing she says,’ Melissa roared, and strode off upstairs still steaming with temper.
Shaking his head in despair, Hugh gently led Brenda into the dining room. ‘What caused you to ask that question about Gregory? Was it because of what he did to you or something more tha
t you know?’
She gazed up at him, her eyes filled with tears as she quivered with emotion. ‘I suspect he could be behind Melissa’s decision to take the baby. I do have some evidence but am not free to share it.’
‘What sort of evidence?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. But I do intend to take this matter to court, should I be fortunate enough to find further proof.’
‘I’m sorry I dashed off without properly explaining where I was going. But I was anxious to do what I could to help prove your case.’
‘I’m so grateful for that. But if you found none, who do you believe?’
‘I believe you, darling, but am worrying over how the matter can be resolved. It won’t be easy. This toy monkey is not very convincing on its own. But please don’t go. We need you. I need you, my love. You have become an important part of my life.’
Brenda’s heart pulsated with joy. Wrapping his arms about her, he was moving close enough to kiss her when suddenly a child’s scream rang out. Jerking apart, they rushed out into the hall to see Melissa come tearing downstairs with the monkey in her hand, and the little boy chasing after her.
‘I want him! I want him! He’s my friend!’ he yelled.
‘Oh, my goodness, don’t tell me she’s again robbed the child of his favourite toy.’ Brenda stepped out to snatch the toy from her. ‘Don’t you dare throw his little “friend” away. You have no right to destroy it. It belongs to Ross, not you.’
‘This child is mine, and as his mother I can do what I damn well please. Mind your own bloody business,’ Melissa snapped.
Hugh wagged a finger at her. ‘Don’t use such dreadful language. Didn’t I advise you to remain calm?’
‘Oh shut up!’ she barked, and turning to Brenda, slapped her across the face. ‘Give that bit of rubbish back to me this minute!’
‘Never!’ Aware of the little boy standing on the stairs, his small face a picture of anguish as he wept, Brenda lifted the cuddly toy higher to avoid Melissa’s grasping hands. It was then that her fingers suddenly felt something crackle and, pulling it down again, she examined the monkey more closely. Brenda noticed a line of tiny, neat stitches across its back, and beneath this was a small bump over the monkey’s bottom. Going to the drawer in the hall table, she pulled out a small pair of scissors generally used to open parcels, and began to snip at the stitches.
Always In My Heart Page 24