by Anna Jacobs
Did she have his mobile phone number? She didn’t have a mobile of her own yet. They should have remedied that. Well, he had the number of the antiques centre. He could phone to check she’d got there.
But he couldn’t leave till he’d seen the magistrate and brought Mr Greaves in to protect Libby’s interests.
She’d be all right, though. He was sure Emily and Chad wouldn’t turn her away.
Only … what if she’d gone somewhere else? No, surely she wouldn’t do that!
Libby glanced in the rear-view mirror at regular intervals, but didn’t see any car that she recognised, or notice any car staying behind her for more than a minute or two. She lost her way twice but eventually found the road up to the moors, feeling like sobbing in sheer relief as the car started to climb.
Ned was getting fidgety so she said brightly, ‘Nearly there now.’
‘Where’s Boo-Bear?’
Oh, heavens, she’d forgotten his bear. He’d be lost without it.
‘I want my Boo-Bear.’
‘He’s looking after our house for us. He’ll be waiting there when we go back.’
Ned began to cry. ‘Want Boo-Bear now! Want my bear.’
She didn’t reply. There was nothing she could tell him that would console him. Everything was so strange to him, and he’d clung to his bear even more than usual since they ran away.
The antiques centre came into sight just then, thank goodness. ‘We’re here, darling.’
But he was scowling as she unbuckled him, his lower lip jutting out ominously.
She went up the steps into the centre and hesitated just inside the doorway, keeping tight hold of Ned’s hand. There didn’t seem to be anyone around.
She walked forward to the café area and to her relief found someone there. ‘I need to see Chad or Emily. It’s really urgent.’
‘They’re down in London, I’m afraid.’
Libby stared at her in horror. She hadn’t even considered this, had no contingency plans at all.
‘Is something wrong?’
She looked at the woman. ‘Do you … work here?’
‘I have the café concession. I’m a friend of Emily’s from way back.’
Libby tried to think what to do and suddenly tears began rolling down her cheeks and she couldn’t stop crying.
A man came into the café and hesitated.
‘Oliver, can you take over for a while? I’m going to take …’ She broke off to say, ‘I’m afraid I don’t know your name, but I’m sure I’ve seen you before. I’m Rachel by the way.’
‘We – a friend and I – brought some goods here to sell a few days ago.’
‘Is your business to do with that?’
‘No. It’s to do with a friend of Emily’s, Leon.’
The woman stilled and studied her with eyes narrowed, as if she recognised that name. ‘Let’s go and talk somewhere else. Would your little boy like something to drink?’
‘Yes, please. An apple juice and one of those big biscuits.’ Libby fumbled in her purse.
‘No charge. How about a coffee for you? I’m having one.’ She turned to the man behind the counter. ‘Oliver, two coffees to go. We’ll take them upstairs. Libby and I had better discuss this in private.’
He nodded and Libby waited numbly for their drinks, then followed Rachel upstairs into Emily’s flat.
‘Are you sure it’s all right, us coming in here, I mean?’
‘Yes. Emily gave me a key. And if this concerns Leon, it’s definitely not for public consumption.’
‘No. But it only concerns him sideways. I … um, helped him with a job recently.’
‘Ah! You and that guy brought Jane here.’
‘Yes. Is she all right?’
‘She’s fine. She’s – um, gone to stay with friends.’
Libby took a deep breath and said in a rush, ‘I was hoping Emily and Chad would let me stay here for a day or two. I’m running away from an abusive husband. He followed me up to Rochdale and found where I was staying. Joss – the guy who helped with Jane – works for Leon and he was keeping an eye out for me, in case Steven tried to attack me again. He stayed behind to prevent Steven following me. He seemed sure Emily and Chad would help me.’
‘I’m absolutely certain they will, so I’ll stand in for them and find a bedroom for you and Ned. They’ll be back late tonight or early tomorrow.’
It took a moment or two for the words to sink in. Libby closed her eyes and let out a long, shuddering sigh, burying her face in Ned’s back as he sat on her knee. ‘Thank you.’
‘Do you have some luggage to bring in?’
‘No. Not even Ned’s favourite toy. We had to leave in a hurry, like within seconds. And I daren’t go shopping, just … daren’t. My ex is staying in the district, you see.’
‘We’ll make up a list of what you need and I’ll nip out to the shops for you.’
‘You’re being incredibly kind.’
‘I don’t believe in abusive husbands getting even half a chance to find their prey. I had a friend who suffered for years. And if you’ve been working for Leon, you’re all right. I don’t know much about what he does, but I know how greatly Emily and Chad respect him. Now, let’s make up a list.’
But first Libby had to take Ned to the toilet, where she washed both their tearstained faces. Then she supervised as he ate the biscuit and drank the apple juice.
When it came to the list, her brain seemed to have fragmented and she had trouble working out what she needed. She managed the clothes for Ned, then decided she needed a change of underwear.
‘I’ll find you some of Emily’s things. You’re about the same size.’
‘I can’t just take her clothes.’
‘She won’t mind at all, believe me.’
After the list was finished, Rachel found Ned some paper and a pencil so that he could entertain himself by drawing, and left to go to the shops.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said as she left. ‘I won’t be long. But you’d better not answer the phone while I’m gone.’
‘What if Joss rings up? He’ll worry.’
‘I’ll be back in half an hour, an hour at most. Oliver can answer the phone and let him know you’re all right.’
Libby sat limply in the chair, willing herself to calm down. She’d found an asylum, as Joss had said she would.
But the fear still lingered, fear that Steven would find them and take Ned away from her.
What if he went to the police? He could be so convincing.
When she looked, Ned had lain down on the floor beside the little table and was fast asleep, his head on a cushion, his thumb in his mouth.
Her heart melted with love for him. She was not going to let Steven get custody of their son. And, somehow, she would make a happy life for the child.
Sixteen
Henry abandoned a client to come rushing round and have a quick word with the magistrate, who was a friend of his from way back.
While they were waiting to see Mr Corby, Joss initiated charges for damage to his car.
When he was questioned about this, Pulford shrugged. ‘Sorry. I lost my temper. I’ll pay for the damage.’
Joss could do nothing but accept this. ‘Very well.’
The magistrate fitted them in shortly afterwards, but it took over half an hour for the facts to be sorted out, after which Mr Corby decided to rescind his previous letter and asked for it back.
‘I’ve lost it,’ Pulford said.
‘I saw you put it in your inner pocket,’ the official who’d accompanied him said indignantly. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’
‘Give it back to me, Mr Pulford,’ Mr Corby said, his tone sounding weary. ‘And do not lie to me again, or you’ll be in trouble officially.’
Pulford’s eyes were bright with fury as he pretended to search for the paper and eventually pulled it out. Afterwards he kept very still, too still for a man with such suppressed rage in every line of his face.
If Joss hadn
’t been so worried about Libby, he’d have enjoyed the way these quiet, elderly men were frustrating Pulford’s attempts to pull the wool over their eyes.
The magistrate turned to Joss. ‘Do you have any idea of where Mrs Pulford may have gone, Mr Atherton?’
‘I do have a couple of places in mind. I’ll have to check them out. She doesn’t have a mobile phone, unfortunately. And by the way, she’s using her maiden name now: Ms King.’
One tight little sound escaped from Pulford at that information.
‘Let her name change be duly noted,’ Mr Corby told his clerk. ‘When you find her, Mr Atherton, please tell her she’s released from her requirement to report to me. For her own safety, she can reside where she chooses. However, she must keep in touch with her lawyer at all times. I’ll communicate with her through Mr Greaves as needed until this matter is settled once and for all.’
Joss nodded. ‘I’ll tell her. I’m sure she’ll comply.’
Mr Greaves cleared his throat. ‘One more thing. I’d like to apply for an injunction requiring Mr Pulford to stay away from his ex-wife.’
‘What?’ Pulford caught the magistrate’s eye and snapped his mouth shut again.
Joss was hard put not to chuckle as Mr Corby chose to mistake the meaning of this exclamation.
‘Don’t you understand what an injunction is, Mr Pulford? I can explain, if you wish.’
‘Of course I understand. But I don’t think it’s necessary.’
It seemed to Joss that the fellow was permanently angry underneath the stiffly composed exterior. Because of Libby? Or was the anger there all the time?
‘We think it’s very necessary,’ Mr Greaves said. ‘You’ve already attacked and hurt her once. I’m hoping she’ll press charges about that.’
‘She won’t do that. Not to me. I’m her husband and this is just a misunderstanding which we can sort out if you’ll only let me speak to her.’
Joss didn’t like what he was hearing. He’d bet anything that Pulford wouldn’t obey the injunction.
‘I still need access to my son. A father has rights too.’
‘My client would like to extend the injunction to cover her son,’ Mr Greaves said quickly. ‘The child has already been hurt by this man.’
‘That was an accident!’ Pulford roared, taking a hasty step forward. He caught the magistrate’s eye, and stopped, but his fists remained clenched tightly.
‘We’ll grant your client the two injunctions for the moment, Mr Greaves, then we’ll reassess the situation in a week’s time.’ The magistrate turned back to Pulford and said slowly and clearly, ‘You are not to go near your wife or your son until I lift the injunction. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. Am I free to go now?’
‘You are.’
When Pulford had left, Corby leaned across to whisper to his clerk, who hurried out of the room. When he came back, he nodded.
The magistrate smiled and turned to the others. ‘I mean it about your client keeping in touch, Henry. We need to do this officially and properly.’ He turned to Joss. ‘Off the record, I assume you know exactly where she is.’
‘Yes. I’ll stay with her, but I’d better have Mr Greaves’ mobile number,’ Joss said.
‘And I’ll need yours.’
The magistrate nodded. ‘You can give them both to my clerk as well. And Mr Atherton …’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Please try to stay out of trouble. Do not go looking for Pulford.’
‘I won’t. But I’m worried he’ll follow me when I go to look for Libby.’
Mr Corby smiled. ‘I think you’ll find that Pulford has been – ah, delayed. You should take advantage of that and leave quickly.’
‘Thank you.’ Joss hurried out, wondering what was going on. The magistrate was a wily old fellow.
He paused for a moment in the car park when he saw Pulford on the other side of the road, standing next to his car, arms folded, foot tapping, while a parking officer wrote on his pad.
Brilliant! Joss could get right away while Pulford was otherwise engaged.
He doubted the other man would find her at the antiques centre.
When Steven went outside, he headed straight for his car, which he’d left on the street. Whatever they said, he had a right to see his wife and child, and he intended to follow Atherton until he found them.
To his intense annoyance, he found a parking officer standing beside his car, writing on a pad.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked as he hurried up to the man.
‘You parked in a fifteen-minute pickup zone. You’ve been here nearly an hour.’
‘I’m so sorry. I do apologise. I had urgent business with the magistrate and just nipped in to see him. I didn’t realise it’d take so long. Look, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have done to the time limits, and I apologise. It won’t happen again. Surely you can let me off with a warning this time? I’m a visitor to this town and—’
‘The ticket’s been started now, I’m afraid, sir.’ He continued writing. ‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’
Steven glanced at the door of the magistrate’s court. No sign of Atherton yet. If this fool would just hurry up, he’d be all right. What mattered was finding Libby.
At that moment a policeman came strolling along the street and stopped beside Steven’s car. ‘Does this vehicle belong to you, sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re doing random checks in the town centre today. Can you please wait with me while I check your registration and a few other things?’
Steven stared at him in shock. ‘But it’s all in order and I need to get somewhere quickly.’
‘Sorry, sir. I’ve just put your registration number into the system, so we’ll have to complete the check now. Will you please wait over there till I get the information?’
Steven moved away from the policeman and began to pace to and fro. They were doing this on purpose, banding together against him, he was sure.
A young man was standing a few paces away fiddling with a motor bike. He looked at Steven sympathetically and when his pacing took him nearby, the man said in a low voice, ‘Hard luck, mate. They’re very sharp on parking in this area. Just say “yes sir, no sir, three bags bloody full sir,” or they’ll keep you here for ever.’
Steven didn’t reply and was about to turn away when Joss came out of the building opposite. How the hell was he going to keep tabs on Atherton now?
Then he had an idea and turned back to the young man. ‘Want to earn a hundred pounds?’ He pretended to be admiring the motor bike, patting it.
‘I’d love to. As long as it’s legal. I’m not breaking the law, though, because I’m on probation.’
‘You see that fellow over there. I don’t want to point. He’s just getting into that silver car.’
‘Oh, I know him. Atherton nicked me once.’
‘Can you follow him without him finding out you’re doing it? I need to know where he goes.’
‘Can do. I’ll need something on account, though, to prove you mean what you say.’
Steven fumbled in his inner pocket, where he kept some loose money, and managed to twitch a £20 note out. He slipped it to the young man when the policeman wasn’t looking.
‘How do I find you again, mister?’
‘I’ll be at my hotel.’ Steven gave him details. ‘My name’s Pulford. What’s yours?’
‘Just call me Ken.’ The young man started his motor bike and set off after Joss’s car. They both disappeared round the corner.
When the parking attendant came to give him his ticket, Steven said, ‘That’s a great motor bike, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not fond of them, myself. Here.’
As the man walked away, the policeman stopped talking into his radio and came back to join Steven. ‘I’ve got the details of the car, sir. Have you proof of your identity?’
Holding his temper under control, Steven answered the questions and at last was allowe
d to leave.
He went straight back to the hotel, hoping the young man was to be trusted. But if he wasn’t, then there would be some other way to find Libby.
He wasn’t giving up. She was his and she was staying his. Once she understood that their son would be the one to suffer if she didn’t, she’d toe the line. She was besotted with the brat.
Joss set off for the antiques centre, but took a round-about route and kept a careful eye out for pursuit.
At one point he thought a motor cyclist was following him, but the fellow took a left turn, and though Joss saw a couple of motor cycles of the same type, neither of their drivers were wearing the same clothes or helmet.
When he set off up the hill to the antiques centre, he made very sure no one was pursuing him, whether in a car or on a motor cycle. But the only vehicle chugging up the hill, apart from his, was a heavily laden truck which slowed him down all along the last stretch to the antiques centre since there was no chance to overtake it safely.
He parked round the corner of the car park, in an overflow parking area which was hidden from the road, and went inside.
There was no one in the showrooms, but he found a man he recognised from the opening day looking after the kiosk. A couple of Japanese tourists were sitting at a table, happily chatting away as they drank their cups of tea.
‘Have you been here for a while?’ He tried to remember the man’s name, but couldn’t.
‘An hour or so.’
‘I’m looking for a woman and child. We arranged to meet here.’
‘What’s your name and have you ID to prove it?’
Joss nodded and produced it.
‘She said you’d be coming. I’ll take you to her.’
He led the way back towards the showrooms but turned up the stairs and knocked on a door.
It opened slightly, then there was a gasp and it was flung wide open. ‘Joss! Oh, Joss! You’re here. Come in quickly. Thanks, Oliver.’
When the door closed, Joss took Libby in his arms and held her close, because she was shaking.
As he explained how he’d prevented Steven from following her, then went on to describe how a policeman had run a check on her ex’s car, she began to relax and even smiled. But she shook her head about the injunctions. ‘He won’t obey them.’