Journey's End

by Josephine Cox

  There was a low peal of laughter. ‘What d’you take me for? What would have happened if I’d told them how I saw you go in, I heard him squeal, and then I heard the crunch of his bones? I also saw you come out and slink away. I knew what you’d done, all right. I could have shopped you if I’d wanted.’

  ‘Why don’t you then?’ Hanging his upper end over the bedrail, Trent hissed at the young man, ‘Go on! Call for the screw and tell him what you know, you Scottish nonce.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And have both my legs broken tomorrow? No thanks. I’ll settle for a ciggie.’

  There was a pause while Trent stared down on the bold young man. Then he swung away, delved into the curve of the wall and a moment later threw down a hand-rolled cigarette. ‘Two draws and no more,’ he warned. ‘If they get a whiff of smoke they’ll be in here to search the place from top to bottom.’ He gave a devious grin. ‘It wouldn’t do for them buggers to poke about where they’re not wanted.’

  The young man sat up. ‘I need a light.’

  Another moment and the match was thrown into his lap. ‘Two draws and no more,’ he was reminded.

  Having struck the match on his shoe, the young man lit the cigarette. He took a deep, satisfying draw. Then: ‘D’you mind if I ask you something?’

  ‘I don’t know till you ask me.’

  ‘Have you ever killed anybody?’ Taking a long smooth drag of the cigarette, the young fella looked up, startled when he was suddenly grasped round the neck and hoisted into the air. ‘Woah, woah! I didnae mean nuthin’.’

  He was hoisted almost to the top bunk, shaken hard, then dropped to the ground where he lay for a moment, choking on the smoke he already had in his throat. ‘You’re a damned lunatic!’ he gasped. ‘Isn’t a man allowed to ask a question without the wind being knocked out of him?’

  Above him the big man leered over the edge of his bunk. ‘Twice,’ he said softly. ‘I killed twice; one was a thieving bastard who thought he could get one over on me …’

  ‘Hmh!’ Clambering up, the young man brushed the dust from his prison nightwear. ‘He won’t be thieving from you again then, will he, eh?’

  ‘Too right he won’t.’ Lying back in his bunk, the big man was in a confiding mood, especially as he knew his cellmate was not the gabbing kind. ‘I’ve got this temper, y’see? When folks rile me up the wrong way, I lash out. I can’t help it.’

  ‘Is that right?’ No sooner had the young man taken another deep drag of the cigarette, than it was torn from his mouth. ‘Jesus! You’ve ripped the skin offa my lips!’

  ‘I said two draws. It’s mine now.’

  ‘Who was the other one?’

  ‘What other one?’

  ‘You said you’d killed twice.’

  The answer was slow in coming. ‘A child … I killed a child, but it was an accident.’ Suddenly he was back there, the dark rage alive in him as it was then. ‘The bastards should never have chased me! If they’d stayed back like I asked, it never would have happened. I knew she wouldn’t come with me, so I took the kid, but she ran after me … the other man was coming upriver and I felt trapped. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was as much their fault as mine. They should never have come after me!’ The last words were a howl.

  ‘Whose kid was it?’ The young man knew his cellmate was a bad lot, but a child! That was a terrible bad thing.

  ‘It was mine.’

  ‘Christ Almighty! You killed your own child?’

  He might have said more but when two iron-like fists tightened round his head, he thought he too was about to die. ‘All right! All right! It was an accident – I understand. Let go, you crazy bugger, let go of me!’ In the second before the other man let go, the young Scotsman was sure his head would burst.

  Trent went on, his voice thick with emotion: ‘His mammy was the best woman I ever had. I didn’t realise how much I loved her until I’d let her go, then she went off with some other man, and I couldn’t get her back. She turned me away, told me she wanted nothing to do with me ever again.’ Anger quivered in his voice. ‘Have you any idea how that makes a man feel?’

  For a time he was silent, reliving that night. ‘I was crazy … out of my head. I grabbed the boy and carried him off, hoping she’d change her mind and come with me, but instead she went wild! She came after me and I panicked. She tried to snatch the boy and somehow it all went wrong. It was the river, y’see? The river took him away. It was Lucy’s fault. If she’d agreed to make her life with me, it never would have happened.’ His voice broke. ‘I don’t suppose Lucy will ever forgive me.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I ran as far away as I could … went back to sea for many a long year. When war broke out I was over in Canada – went to work in a logging camp for the duration. Didn’t see why I should get a bullet in the arse from Hitler while I could avoid it.’

  The other prisoner, who had been too young to fight, didn’t think much of this attitude, having lost an elder brother and an uncle, both soldiers, in the war. However, he wisely kept silent, although something of his feelings came over when he asked: ‘So, they didn’t put you away then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you got away with it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the other one?’

  ‘What other one?’

  ‘The one that stole from you.’

  ‘I was clever. After I’d killed him, I put him where he’d never be found. He was a nobody, a thief and vagabond; it was easy enough to take on his name. I made sure I stayed away long enough to build up my new identity.’ Arrogant as ever he went on, ‘Twenty year and more, I managed to stay out o’ the limelight, then one night on shore leave in Liverpool I got drunk and picked a fight which ended up nasty, and got me sent down.’

  ‘Is Edward Carter your real name?’

  A moment, then: ‘More questions, eh, Scotty?’ Trent grew cautious. ‘Sounds to me like I’ve said more than enough.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man. By rights you should have been hung from the neck for what you did.’

  With amazing agility that belied his age, the big man swung himself down from the bunk, caught the young fella by the shirt-collar and yanked him to his feet. ‘You should be honoured,’ Trent growled. ‘You’re the only person I’ve ever confided in. Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe you know too much for your own good.’

  Tightening his grip, he drew the younger man closer still. ‘Have I made a big mistake? For all I know, you might be the sort who would like to make a few bob out of what I’ve told you. Are you? Are you the gabby sort?’

  Eyes wide with fear, the young man assured him, ‘You know I’d never do a thing like that. I’d have to be some kind of a fool! I value my legs too much. I wouldn’t want to be left crippled or worse, just ’cause I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut.’

  The big man hissed, ‘What do you know about me?’

  ‘Not a thing! Not a single thing!’

  ‘Very wise.’ Flinging him aside, Trent hoisted himself back on his bunk. A moment later the cigarette end was thrown down to the other prisoner. ‘I often wonder about her.’

  ‘Who?’ Thankful to still have the use of his legs and another couple of draws into the bargain, the young man was still shaking.

  ‘Lucy Baker. She was the most exciting woman you could ever meet. She wasn’t what you might call a beauty – not dazzling or glamorous or anything like that.’

  ‘If she wasnae glamorous or beautiful, what attracted you to her?’

  ‘Lucy was different somehow, hard to forget. She was childlike – pure and innocent, but mischievous, too. She was more alive than any other woman I’ve ever met. Her smile was more radiant than a summer’s day, and when she laughed it turned your heart over. She was small and homely, with eyes that sang. They kinda latched onto you and wouldn’t let go.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He dreamed of her. ‘She’s older now, like me. I often wo
nder if she still has that magical quality, or whether she’s all shrivelled and ugly. I’ve taken good care of myself over the years, but I can’t tell what she looks like. I’ve still got this image in my mind … might be a shame to spoil it with the real thing.’ He gave a wry little laugh. ‘I daresay I’d be shocked if I were to see her now.’

  ‘Have you ever been back … to that place?’

  ‘No. I want to, though. I’ve always wanted to, only I might stir it all up. There was a bloke, Barney Davidson his name was. Likely as not if he saw me, he’d come after me. From what I recall, he wasn’t a big man, but he had this bull-like strength about him. There’s bound to be trouble. I don’t know if I should risk being carted off and strung up for what happened that night.’

  ‘So, you won’t ever go back there then?’

  The big man gave a gruff laugh. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I just might decide to go there and find out if she’s still around. First though, I have to keep my nose clean and get out of here.’ He hung over the end of the bunk. ‘But don’t think I won’t seek you out, if ever you open your mouth about what you heard here tonight.’

  The young man handed back the tab end of the cigarette. ‘I might be bold and reckless at times – it’s what got me here in the first place. But I’m not wrong in the head. Your secret’s safe with me, so you needn’t worry.’

  His cellmate gave a soft, sinister laugh. ‘I don’t intend to,’ he replied confidently. ‘I’d rather let you do the worrying.’

  Long into the early hours, the young man lay awake to consider his companion’s veiled warning. There was no doubt in his mind; if he ever talked of what was discussed this night, he would be made to pay a terrible price.

  All the same he was intrigued by what he’d heard of the child and the woman; and how, even now after all this time, the big man was still besotted with her. This Lucy: she sounded like the woman every man needed in his life – not glamorous enough to attract other men, but with a special inner beauty that shone out.

  What was she doing now? What did she look like? Was she shrivelled and ugly as Carter feared, or was she still the same magical person she had always been? Most of all, what were her feelings towards him? After all, indirectly or not, he had murdered her child.

  One thing was certain. It was only the fear of capture for what he had done that had kept Carter away all this time.

  Glancing up to make sure his cellmate was asleep, the Scotsman mulled over the story he’d been told. He muttered softly as though talking to Lucy direct, ‘Seems to me, the madman still has a craving for you.’

  Closing his eyes, he made the sign of the cross on himself. ‘God help you, lady. I’ve got a feeling you’re not rid of him yet!’

  Chapter 5

  ‘DO YOU WANT to help?’ Emerging from the barn at Far Crest Farm, Ben made his way over to Mary, who was leaning on the fence. ‘Look what I’ve found.’ Holding out a pair of wellies he told her, ‘They’re a bit big, but I’m sure you’ll manage.’

  With his brown cords tucked into his own wellingtons and wearing a woolly polo-neck jumper under his knee-length coat, she thought he looked every inch the farmer. ‘What? You want me to help round up the sheep?’ she said nervously. ‘I wouldn’t have a clue how to start.’

  He smiled patiently. ‘And you never will if you don’t let me show you how.’ With the confidence of a man who was content with his lot, he came up beside her and slid an arm round her waist. In each other’s company they were quiet and easy, lingering a moment to enjoy the feast of Nature spread out before them.

  ‘This is the time of day I love the most.’ Ben never failed to be amazed at how quickly he had forgotten the city life. His work and his heart were now firmly rooted here in Salford. ‘There are three times in the day when I feel closer to the land,’ he confided now. ‘First thing in the morning when the world still sleeps and the dew is on the grass; the end of the day when the sun is going down and the sky is shot with colour; and now when it’s turning midday, with the morning slipping into afternoon.’

  Reaching across, he kissed Mary softly on the face. ‘Before I met you, I was a lonely man,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘I watched the days change and pass, and with the ending of each one, I felt even lonelier. Because there was so much beauty around me, I learned to live with my loneliness and enjoy what I have here. But now I have you to share it all with, and I’ve never been happier, or more content.’

  Taking her by the shoulders, he gently turned her round to face him. For a long moment he looked on her face, on those deep, lavender-blue eyes and the shock of thick fair hair that framed her pretty features. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Now that I’ve got you, I never want to be without you.’

  ‘If I have my way,’ Mary teased him, ‘I promise you will never be.’ Her thoughts turned to her parents, Barney and Lucy. ‘Sometimes though, I can’t help but feel frightened,’ she added.

  Ben held her close. ‘Frightened of what?’

  ‘Of the way we are, you and me.’

  ‘Why should you be frightened?’

  ‘Because of my parents. They loved each other too, yet after a pitifully short time they were parted.’ After years of waiting for the right man, Ben had brought her alive, and at the same time made her more afraid than she had ever been. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I lost you, Ben.’

  Ben held her close. He understood her fears, for didn’t he feel the very same? ‘When you love someone,’ the feel of her silky hair against his face was wonderful, ‘you have to take each day as it comes and live it to the full. The truth is, you have two choices, my darling: on the one side, you have to accept that there can never be a happy ending for one or the other of you … unless somehow you were to leave this earth at one and the same time.’

  Mary had not thought of it that way, but now she realised how starkly true that was. ‘You said there were two choices?’

  He nodded. ‘On the other hand, you can choose never to commit yourself to anyone. But if you do that, you will never know what it’s like to love someone the way your mother loved Barney, or the way we love each other.’ He slowly shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss out on what we have now.’

  Mary had no doubts either. ‘I’d rather suffer pain and loneliness for part of my life, than never know what it was like to love you,’ she told him.

  Holding her at arm’s length he was astonished to see the tears bright in her eyes. With the tip of his finger, he wiped them away. ‘You and I have been very lucky because somehow, we found each other. So, for the moment let’s just be grateful and, as I said, take each day as it comes.’

  Having returned from his wanderings, Ben’s faithful old Labrador Chuck ran to meet them, excitedly yapping. ‘I think he’s trying to tell us something,’ Mary laughed.

  Ben leaned down to pacify the animal. ‘All right, all right! Calm yourself down.’ Looking up to Mary he asked, ‘So, are you willing to give it a go? Do you want to help with the sheep?’

  Never having done it before, Mary took a moment to answer, but when she did, it was with enthusiasm. ‘Very well. I’ll give it a go.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Ben exclaimed. ‘We’ll make a farmer of you yet.’

  As it turned out, Mary had never enjoyed herself so much. The dog was a master at rounding up the sheep. ‘Gently now, boy!’ Ben kept him under control so as not to send the sheep into a run, which could damage the pregnant ewes.

  In no time at all, the flock were teased into the pen, ready for Ben and Mary to weed out the more heavily pregnant sheep and release the others.

  With great care and tenderness, though never losing authority, Ben examined each and every one. The heavily-pregnant ewes were given over to Mary, who then led them into the smaller adjoining pen which ran behind the field-gate, while one by one the others were returned to graze the main field.

  When the flock had been sorted, Ben and Mary took a breather. ‘I’m proud of you,’ Ben told Mary. ‘You’re a b
orn farmer’s wife.’

  The twelve pregnant ewes were next ushered into the smaller paddock nearer to the homestead, where Ben could keep an eye on them. ‘I think we’ve earned a break,’ he yawned.

  Mary agreed and the two of them made their way to the cottage, where they kicked off their boots, hung up their coats and washed the smell of sheep and muck off their hands.

  Inside the cosy parlour, Ben soon had a cheery fire going, while in the kitchen Mary made the tea. She loved this pretty little place; with its low-beamed ceilings and big open stone fireplace, it was like a cottage you might find on a picture-postcard.

  When the fire was roaring up the chimney and each of them had a warming drink, Ben sat in the armchair, while Mary curled up at his feet, her face aglow from the fire’s heat, and a contented smile on her face.

  When she lapsed into a long silence, Ben leaned over her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  But Ben knew different. ‘Hey! This is me you’re talking to. Something’s playing on your mind. If you’re worried, I’d like to know.’

  Reaching up, she took hold of his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’ She didn’t want to spoil the moment, but she really did need to talk. ‘It’s something you said … about my parents. It’s been a year since we were told, and I still can’t take it all in – Barney sending his family away like that, making them hate him while all the time he was so ill, and in desperate need of them. And Mother, loving him like she did, when all the time he loved someone else.’

  ‘That must have been so hard for her,’ Ben remarked thoughtfully. ‘To work all the day long with someone you love, and to know that he only has eyes for his wife … although that’s exactly how it should be in a happy marriage.’

  Mary had been thinking along the same lines. ‘It must have been Hell for her. And yet she stayed, content enough just to be near him.’

  ‘She and Barney were together in the end though,’ Ben reminded her. ‘And I for one am grateful for that, because if they hadn’t, then you would never have been born, and I would never have known you.’