In Search of Hope

by Anna Jacobs

‘I’m all right, thank you, Mrs Colby.’

  ‘You’re not all right, Libby, and you haven’t been for quite a while. I can’t help noticing things, and I really would like to help you. Why don’t you come across and have a cup of tea with me? We could … talk.’

  ‘I’m leaving him today, so I can’t spare the time, but thank you for offering. I shall miss you.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re leaving him. Best thing you can do. Excuse me asking, but do you have enough money?’

  ‘I’m going to pawn something to pay for the petrol.’ She looked down at her hand. ‘My wedding ring, perhaps. But I will have some money once I’ve claimed an inheritance. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I just have to get up to Rochdale to do that. Look, why don’t you come in for a moment? There is one thing you can do for me.’

  ‘Anything.’

  Libby picked up the letter and gave it to Mary. ‘Read this first. Steven threw it away without telling me.’

  Mary scanned the letter, surprised. ‘Why would he not tell you about a bequest that large?’

  ‘Because he wants to keep me dependent on him.’

  Libby took the letter back. There was a phone number on it and an email address. She didn’t dare email because Steven would find out what she’d said. She couldn’t phone from home, either, because Steven had arranged for the phone only to be used for local calls, but perhaps …

  ‘Would you let me phone the lawyer from your house, please? Or on your mobile? I can’t phone long-distance, as you know, and anyway, I don’t want my husband to know where I’m going. He won’t know that I’ve seen this letter.’

  ‘Of course you can use our phone. Use our landline. Our mobile phone’s playing up a bit. Come across and do it now.’

  ‘Ned’s just finishing his breakfast. I’ll have to bring him with me.’

  ‘Why don’t you go across to my house and phone? It’s in the hall and my husband’s out, so you won’t be interrupted. I can keep an eye on Ned for you. And Libby … it doesn’t matter that it’s long distance or how many minutes you talk.’

  As she went into Mary’s house, Libby again caught sight of her face in the mirror and her anger burned even higher. She’d never give Steven the chance to do that again.

  She was on the phone for ten minutes and when she put it down, she swallowed hard. Here was her chance – if she dared to go through with it.

  No, why was she thinking like that? Of course she’d dare do it.

  When she got back, she told Mary about her call. ‘I managed to contact the lawyer. I’m going to see him before I do anything else. He’ll give me some money.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Her neighbour glanced at her face, hesitated, then said, ‘Look … tell me to mind my own business if you want, but would you like me to take some photos of the injuries? In case you need evidence.’

  ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘I don’t tell many people this, but my daughter nearly died as a result of a physically abusive relationship. I learned a lot about the things a woman needs to do to prove her case. And I’d be a good person to do this for you, because I overheard the quarrel and the screams, and I’ve heard quarrels before. I’m quite prepared to stand up and say that in court.’

  Libby hugged Mary. ‘Thank you. You’ve been a wonderful neighbour. Where is your daughter now? She doesn’t visit you.’

  ‘She’s overseas. It’s safer. Her ex is out of jail now, released early for good conduct. Ha! He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Tess and I Skype one another regularly, and Don and I are going to Australia to see her next year. She’s met a lovely man and has married again.’

  ‘I’m glad for her.’

  ‘I’m not just doing it because of Tess, but for your own sake as well, Libby. I help out at the local women’s refuge and I hear a lot of stories. Now, I’ll fetch my camera and in the meantime, you start packing. Presumably you’re driving?’

  ‘Yes. At least the car still belongs to me.’

  ‘It’s rather old.’

  ‘It runs better than you might expect.’

  ‘Never mind pawning your ring; let me lend you some money. You need to get on the road quickly.’

  Libby hesitated. ‘Thank you. Just enough to buy petrol. Forty pounds, maybe.’

  ‘You’ll need more than that. No, I insist.’

  ‘All right. Thank you. It’ll be a loan, though. I should be able to pay you back quite quickly once I get Grandma Rose’s money.’

  When Mary came back with her purse, Libby had dumped a pile of things she wanted to take on the kitchen table, including her albums of family photographs. She accepted the contents of Mary’s purse, several notes and even the coins, then hugged her neighbour. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I wish it were more. And now we need to take those photos.’

  Shame filled Libby. ‘Maybe we don’t need to bother now that I have the inheritance.’

  ‘And maybe we do need to bother. It will only take five minutes.’

  Libby felt humiliated to have to display the marks on her body, was glad when she could put her clothes on again. Mary didn’t comment, just asked her to move as necessary and took several photos.

  ‘Shall I bath Ned for you while you pack?’

  ‘Would you? You’re an angel.’

  She saw them into the bathroom, got out the suitcases and began packing their clothes at top speed.

  ‘Libby, could you come here a minute?’

  She went into the bathroom.

  Mary pointed to Ned’s leg. ‘Did you know about this?’

  There was a huge bruise on his thigh – no, two bruises. Libby stared at them in horror, shaking her head. She knelt by the bath. ‘How did you hurt yourself, darling?’

  ‘Daddy kicked me last night.’

  Those twin bruises on Ned’s leg, shockingly blue against his tender child’s skin, stiffened Libby’s resolve as nothing else could have done. ‘We shall need a photo of that, too, Mary.’

  ‘I’ll go and get my camera from downstairs.’

  She took the photo, then said briskly, ‘Get on with your packing. I’ll finish bathing Ned.’

  ‘I’ll put some clothes on the bed.’

  When Mary came down with a sweet-smelling little boy, she hugged Libby. ‘I’ll get out of your hair now. Keep in touch. You know my email address and phone number. I’ll email you copies of the photos when you get online again.’

  ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘Get yourself and the child free of him. That’ll be thanks enough.’

  Ned followed Libby round while she finished packing, silent but clinging.

  Everything seemed very unreal. Was she really going to escape from Steven at last? What would he do about that? She didn’t let herself think about it. One thing at a time.

  First, she had to get away and claim her inheritance.

  As for the conditions attached to that, which the lawyer had summarised when she spoke to him, they suited her perfectly.

  Libby left twenty minutes later, her car piled high with possessions thrown in anyhow.

  She hadn’t eaten because she couldn’t face food, but she’d drunk two cups of strong coffee and that gave her plenty of energy as she wound through the country lanes till she got on to the M5 motorway.

  No matter how she sat, though, her chest hurt. A cracked rib, she supposed. She tried to ignore it, telling herself: This too shall pass.

  For Ned’s sake, she stopped every hour and a half at a motorway services, buying some painkillers for herself the first time. She used the facilities and let him run about a little before they got into the car again.

  I’m heading north, she told herself each time she set off again, heading home to Lancashire. The mere thought of that lifted her spirits. She’d been born there and spent the happiest years of her life there.

  She wished she could have seen Grandma Rose again. If she’d known Rose was still alive, she’d have got in touch once she was away from her stepfather.
Walter was living in London now and she hoped she’d never see him again as long as she lived.

  Of all the cruel things Steven had done, telling her that Grandma Rose was dead was one of his most unkind tricks. But this inheritance surely proved that her grandmother didn’t blame her for their estrangement. That thought was a comfort.

  Unless something went wrong, Libby would arrive in Rochdale by about four o’clock and be able to visit the lawyer to find out the details of where the house was because Rose had moved a few years ago. She’d have to live there for six months in order to gain her inheritance. She’d have a living allowance during that time, more than adequate, and best of all she’d have peace and quiet.

  Libby didn’t intend to tell Steven where she was and she hoped he’d give her up as a bad job. She didn’t have much confidence in that happening, but you had to hope for the best, didn’t you?

  Her husband would contact the lawyer, she was sure, but he wouldn’t know exactly where she was living, so maybe she had a chance of staying hidden there for the six months stipulated in the will.

  Maybe.

  Steven could be very determined when he wanted something and, with the Internet, it was much harder to stay hidden these days.

  But, if necessary, she would go to the police for help. Or to a women’s refuge.

  She glanced at her watch. Steven didn’t get home from work until six, often later, so he wouldn’t know yet that she’d left. She and Ned were perfectly safe for the moment, and that felt so good.

  She wished she could be a fly on the wall when Steven realised what had happened. She hadn’t even left a note, just a house in chaos from her hasty packing.

  He would hate that.

  Two

  It was a relief to see the first sign saying ‘Lancashire’. Libby let out a tired sigh. Nearly there now.

  Then Ned was sick without warning, and she had to stop at another services to clean him up, not to mention trying to clean up the car.

  He began to cry miserably when she put him back into his seat, poor little love.

  ‘Don’t want to get in! Don’t want to!’

  She gave him a hug. ‘Not long now, darling, then we’ll be there.’

  But there were bad hold-ups on the M62. She rotated her shoulders, trying to ease the ache as the line of cars stopped and started, moving forward only in frustratingly short bursts. She wasn’t used to driving such long distances and felt exhausted. Only determination was keeping her going now – mixed with a hefty dose of desperation and another couple of painkillers.

  When she got to Rochdale, it was almost six o’clock and though the office building was still open, the lawyer’s rooms were closed, the blinds pulled down. She stood in the foyer, fighting tears, wondering what to do. She didn’t have enough money for a hotel room.

  In spite of her efforts to remain calm, a sob escaped her.

  She turned as someone spoke. ‘Were you trying to see Mr Greaves?’

  She nodded, managing only a strangled, ‘Yes.’

  ‘It must be urgent to upset you like that. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘My grandmother has died and left me somewhere to live. I need to see Mr Greaves about that.’

  ‘He’ll be in tomorrow.’

  Libby couldn’t prevent tears from rolling down her cheeks. ‘I’ve just left my husband and I don’t even have enough money to pay for a hotel till I’ve seen Mr Greaves.’ She hugged Ned to her as he began to wail in sympathy.

  ‘Ah. Well, look, I have Henry’s home phone number. I’ll give him a call. Your name is …?’

  ‘Libby Pulford. And this is Ned. Thank you.’

  ‘Come and wait upstairs in my office while I phone. You’ll be warmer there.’

  There was the murmur of voices in another room, then the woman came back. ‘Henry can’t come and see you, but he thinks he can sort something out on the phone.’ She held out the handset.

  Libby took it from her. ‘Hello? I’m afraid I got delayed. I’ve nowhere to stay and … very little money.’

  ‘Why didn’t you phone me when you got delayed? I’d have made arrangements.’

  ‘I don’t have a mobile phone. Mine got broken and my husband wouldn’t buy me another.’

  Ned insisted on getting down and wandering round the room, so she tried to keep an eye on him as she listened to Mr Greaves.

  ‘Now, Libby – it’s all right if I call you Libby, isn’t it? It’s how I think of you because that’s how your grandmother always referred to you.’

  ‘My husband told me she died several years ago.’

  ‘Far from it. She remained a redoubtable woman until the end. Rose King was one of my favourite clients. Actually, she’s been keeping an eye on what you’ve been doing for the past few years.’

  ‘She has?’ Libby was startled.

  ‘Yes. She paid a private investigator to track you down and find out if you were happy. He … um, didn’t think you were. She knew you had a child, too, wished she could meet him. But she decided, regretfully, that getting in touch with you would probably only make matters worse between you and your husband.’

  Humiliation seared through Libby. ‘There was nothing to upset. My marriage was a mess. I’d not have stayed with Steven for so long, but it’s hard to leave someone when you don’t have any money, especially when you have a small child.’

  ‘Yes. Rose guessed that was a problem for you and she understood. Sadly, she was too sick to face any upsets during the last year when the cancer began to spread. She’s left you a letter, though. I’ll give you that tomorrow.’

  Someone spoke to him and he tsk-tsked under his breath. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. Any other time I’d have cancelled my evening engagement and taken you out to Top o’ the Hill myself, but I’m presenting some awards, so I can’t miss tonight’s ceremony. I’ll tell you how to get there.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ve been to Top o’ the Hill before. I know where it is. Grandma Rose grew up near there and sometimes she took me walking across the moors, showing me the places she’d loved as a child.’

  ‘The house she grew up in has been knocked down, but she’d inherited money from a friend and was able to buy another property. She loved living up near the moors.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding the house. But what about a key?’

  ‘The front-door key is on top of the lintel of the coal shed at the back. Do you have enough money to buy food and necessities for tonight and the morning?’

  She could feel herself flushing again. ‘I raided the fridge before I left, so Ned and I will be all right tonight as long as we have a roof over our heads.’

  ‘Come in to see me tomorrow morning, then. I’m free at nine. Is that too early?’

  ‘No. I’ll look forward to it.’

  She thanked the woman for her help and left.

  Ned protested again about getting back into the car, throwing a tantrum, and Libby had to spend a few moments coaxing him. ‘We’re nearly there now. Just a little while longer, darling. We’re going to … a friend’s house.’

  She lost her way almost immediately because they’d made a lot of changes to the road system in Rochdale since she was a child. But when she stopped to ask for directions, the northern accent of the woman who pointed out the way comforted her. Grandma Rose had talked like that, slowly and with flat vowels.

  Libby smiled as she saw the sign, wincing as a movement made her ribs twinge again. Top o’ the Hill was a strange name for a village, but a very accurate description of the position of this modest group of houses.

  The road twisted up a cleft in the edge of the moors. It was only single lane for the most part, with occasional wider places where vehicles could pass one another. The village itself sat almost at the top, with a few houses straggling down the upper reaches of the cleft.

  She’d wondered whether the village would have been developed into a dormitory for nearby Rochdale and Todmorden, with rows of dwellings thrown up at minimal co
st, ready to become the slums of the future. To her relief it still looked much the same: a few older, stone-built weavers’ cottages with huge third-floor windows to give the weavers light. There were a couple of short terraces of smaller houses, as well as bigger ones round a central paved area. There were one or two newer homes lower down the hill, but that was all.

  Two smiling older men were walking into the Crown, the only pub, gesticulating as they chatted, and a little girl was skipping along the street, her lips moving as she earnestly counted something.

  The little village shop was shutting, the cheerful, well-lit displays in its twin windows brightening the evening scene. Apart from the cars parked everywhere, it was as if Libby had stepped back into her childhood.

  Slowing down, she muttered the directions Mr Greaves had given to get to her grandmother’s new house. She had to turn up towards the tiny church.

  For a moment her mind went blank as she tried to find the little lane that led up the final stretch of hillside to the church and graveyard. Surely it should be round here somewhere? She slowed down to a crawl, relieved there were no other cars impatient to overtake her.

  She nearly passed the turn and braked so suddenly Ned jerked awake and cried out in protest. ‘Sorry, darling.’

  ‘First and only turn left,’ she muttered. She missed that completely and had to turn round in the little car park outside the church and go back. Ah, there it was!

  Other tyre marks in the curving dirt track showed clearly in the damp ground, but from here she couldn’t see the four cottages she was looking for. Then they came into sight a hundred yards down the track. None of them was showing lights, even though the daylight was fading now. There was a car outside one house, though, so someone else lived here.

  Stopping the car, she bowed her head over the steering wheel for a moment, so weary she could hardly move. She’d done it! She’d got here.

  It was Ned who got her going again, calling anxiously, ‘Wanta wee, Mummy. Mummy! Hafta go wee-wee.’

  She helped him out and since he was clutching himself and no one seemed to be around, allowed him to wee on to the grass to the side of the car, which he thought great fun.