‘Why don’t you just try this girl? That’s all I’m asking.’
‘You can ask till the cows come home, Miss Lucy, but I’m not listening. Now, if you feel the need to send me packing, that’s another thing altogether and there’s nothing I can do about that. But if I’m staying, I’ll not ’ave no snotty-nosed slip of a thing under my feet all hours of the day.’
To everyone’s amusement, just as they thought she’d finished, Elsie got her second wind. ‘You’ve bullied me into trying it twice now, and I’ve been proved right each time. They’re all the same … couldn’t make a cat’s bed never mind yours! They don’t know how to wash a pot, ask ’em to clean the windows an’ they leave smears all over the place, and as for washing the sheets, they come off the bed white and go back grey, or even bright pink as we’ve already seen from that first useless article you took on!’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Lucy feared she was already losing the argument. ‘You’re impossible! You wear me down, so you do.’
‘Oh do I? In that case, stop interfering and we’ll all be fine.’
With that she turned on her heel, marched off in a huff and a moment later from somewhere nearby, a door slammed and shook the picture on the wall. ‘You’ve upset her now, Mum,’ Mary laughed. ‘I’ll not get an extra share of Yorkshire pudding after all.’
Vicky thought Elsie was wonderful. ‘I want to take her back to America with me,’ she chuckled. ‘There’d never be a dull moment.’
The meal went well; Elsie had done them proud. The cream of parsnip soup was delicious; the generous cut of best beef took up half the table; there were dishes bursting with vegetables … chubby Brussels sprouts, winter cabbage and beetroot, sliced and diced and melting in its own juice. There was a bucket-load of misshapen but mouth-watering Yorkshire puds, and several dishes of potatoes in different forms; crispy-roasted, mashed, and the smaller ones simply left whole.
To top it all off, the meat-gravy was superb. ‘The best I’ve ever tasted,’ Vicky announced to Elsie’s delight; upon which the little woman picked up the gravy-boat and promptly poured another great helping over Vicky’s Brussels sprouts. ‘Get that down you,’ she instructed proudly. ‘It’ll put hairs on yer chest.’
Having witnessed Elsie’s impulsive action, everyone else discreetly covered their meal before she could get to it.
Once they had reached the stage of the bread and butter pudding, the conversation recommenced on a more serious note. ‘You haven’t mentioned the children much,’ Adam remarked, while pouring Vicky another glass of best wine. ‘Put me right if I’m poking my nose in, but is there some sort of a problem?’
‘Nothing I can’t deal with,’ she answered.
‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved,’ he reminded her. ‘And don’t forget, you’re among friends.’
While Vicky was considering his remark, Lucy thought she knew what might be wrong. ‘They’ve taken sides, is that what’s troubling you?’
Vicky smiled. ‘You always were able to put your finger on the spot,’ she said, ‘and you’re right, Lucy, because that’s exactly what they’ve done. They’ve ganged up against me, and sided with Leonard.’
She went on to tell them how, ‘Like Leonard, Thomas and Susie believe I should let the past go. They claim there is nothing to be gained from raking it all up now. Although they are content to know their father was innocent of the things they were made to believe … the drinking and womanising, and the way he seemed hellbent on turning us all against him, and now know he was only doing that to protect us, they still think Leonard was right to keep his promise. Well, I don’t! I think he should have told me years ago.’
Lucy was saddened but not surprised. ‘I suppose if you think about it from their point of view, it’s easy to understand why they feel the way they do.’
Vicky shook her head. ‘I don’t see how they can feel anger at their father; not now they know the truth.’
She looked along the row of faces and tried to explain how she felt. ‘Barney did it for us! He made us hate him, but he did it for a reason. He gave up his entire family. He was prepared to live out his days in pain and alone, not for himself, but because he loved us. Whatever they say, it was us in the wrong, not Barney. We let our eyes deceive us, instead of realising he would never become the man he wanted us to see. WE LET HIM DOWN!’ She nearly burst into tears, but by a massive effort managed to control herself.
‘That’s one way of looking at it,’ Lucy agreed gently. ‘The children obviously see it another way. Maybe he did too good a job … making them hate him, sending them away from everything they had ever known. Perhaps they saw themselves as the ones who were rejected! And it doesn’t matter that Barney made a huge sacrifice for them, because that was his choice, it wasn’t theirs. And Barney didn’t ask them. He took it on himself to make that momentous decision, and maybe they resent that?’ Phew! She’d never really thought that out before, but it all made sense.
Vicky nodded. ‘You’re right, Lucy. That’s exactly how they feel. But I’ll never understand their thinking, or their ingratitude. Because of what Barney did for them, they now have a wonderful life; they want for nothing – and that’s all thanks to their poor, suffering dad.’
She appealed to Mary. ‘What do you think, love? Do you think I’m being unreasonable in expecting them to love him for what he did, for the life he gave them and the chance to make something of themselves? Shouldn’t they be grateful? Shouldn’t they feel compassion for what Barney did, out of love for them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mary answered truthfully. ‘He was my father too, and from what I recall of him, he was a wonderful man, kind and loving. He never hurt me, but if he had, I hope it would not have stopped me from loving him. I didn’t have him as long as the others; I was not there when all this happened, so I will never have to choose between the father I knew, and the father that hurt them so. If I had been a part of what happened, I can’t say how I would feel.’
Vicky turned to the men. ‘You’ve both been very quiet. Can I ask what your thoughts are?’
In his compassion for her, and his fierce loyalty to Barney, Adam graciously declined to give an opinion.
Ben, however, spoke his thoughts. ‘I’ve tried to see it from all viewpoints,’ he told her. ‘I can see why you had to come here and make your peace with Barney, and I can’t even imagine how you must have suffered, especially when Barney made you think he had stopped loving you.’
He paused to get his thoughts in order. ‘But I can see it from your children’s viewpoint as well. I think, from the minute he hurt you, they were made to grow up fast. They had to shut him out of their lives. They had to protect you, because now there was no one else to do it. It was Barney who, for all the brave reasons in the world, forced them into that position, and knowing why he did it makes them resentful and angry.’
He was loth to say it, but he had to finish. ‘Maybe they will never forgive him.’
‘Then I will never forgive them!’
Not wishing to end the conversation on a harsh note, Vicky changed the subject, by directing a question at Ben and Mary. ‘So, there’s a wedding in the air, is there?’
Mary blushed deep red. ‘Ben asked me to marry him and I said yes. We’re planning for it to be in early spring next year … maybe Easter-time.’
‘Oh Mary, that’s wonderful!’ Vicky drank the remainder of her wine and holding up her glass for Adam to refill, she announced, ‘Here’s to Mary and Ben, and a wedding next spring!’
Everyone drank to that and Mary told Vicky, ‘I want you all to be there, you and Susie and your sons Thomas and Ronnie.’ She hesitated. ‘And, of course, Mr Maitland.’
Vicky was embarrassed and it showed. ‘I don’t think Leonard will be there, my darling, and if my children don’t have a change of heart, I can’t promise they’ll be there either.’ She put on a bright smile. ‘But I will! Hell and high water would not keep me away.’
Lucy had been recalling V
icky’s previous conversation, and one thing in particular was puzzling her. ‘What about Ronnie?’ she asked now.
Vicky seemed puzzled. ‘What about him?’
‘You mentioned how Thomas and Susie had been angry at the way their father tricked them about his illness … making them believe he had turned bad. But you never mentioned Ronnie. You never said how he took the news.’
Vicky paused, her heart aching at the way her children had reacted. ‘I don’t know how Ronnie took the news,’ she confessed. ‘He simply looked shocked, then he walked out of the house and never came back.’
‘What? You mean you haven’t spoken to him? You don’t know where he is?’ Only now did Lucy realise what chaos she had caused by sending that letter. ‘Dear God, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ Vicky sighed. ‘You have nothing whatsoever to be sorry about.’ She gave Lucy an encouraging smile, but then it slipped away as she spoke of her younger son. ‘Ronnie has been a bit of a loner since we left these shores. You know he adored Barney, and somehow he’s never been able to come to terms with everything. But he’ll come round. He’ll go away and curl up in some dark corner and he’ll take time out to think about it all. He’ll be all right. Susie will find him. She always does.’
Adam also recalled how close Ronnie had been to his father; how the two of them would sit on the hill and talk for ages. Thomas was the worker; Ronnie was the thinker, the poet, the one who was more like Barney inside than any of them.
‘Maybe, when you get back, Ronnie will be there,’ he told her, ‘waiting to confide in you. If I remember, he always found it hard to talk to anyone about his feelings – anyone, that is, except Barney.’
Vicky decided to reveal her intentions. ‘He’ll have to wait a while longer then,’ she confided, ‘because I’m not going home just yet. In fact, I won’t be going home for quite a while. As already arranged with Lucy, I shall be leaving the day after tomorrow. But I won’t be going back to Southampton. Instead, I’ll be taking the train to Liverpool. There are places I need to go, people I need to catch up with.’
Mary was curious. ‘How long will you stay?’
‘Weeks, months, I haven’t decided yet.’
Lucy was astounded. ‘Won’t Leonard be worried? And what about the children? Surely they need you?’
Vicky was adamant. ‘Then they will have to be disappointed.’ Seeing how her news had shocked them all, she explained, ‘Since the day they were born, I’ve been there for them. And so was Barney. We taught them everything, how to respect other people and have compassion. Be honest and hard-working, and always be on hand for family, because family is the most precious gift you will ever know.’
As she went on, her voice shook with emotion. ‘Instead of being angry with their father, they should be grateful, but they’re not. Somewhere along the way I must have gone wrong, because my children now seem to think everything revolves around them. But it doesn’t! And now they expect me to share their anger, but I can’t. They’re being selfish. They aren’t considering my feelings in this at all. They were not there for me, so I’m afraid I can’t be there for them, not this time. They have each other, and I desperately need to spend time alone, to be quiet, and think about the things that were so cruelly snatched from me.’
Seeing how distressed she was becoming, Lucy reached out and laid her hand over Vicky’s. ‘You must follow your heart,’ she said firmly ‘… and let them follow theirs.’
Vicky composed herself. Raising her glass again, she made a new toast: ‘To Barney!’
Everyone chinked glasses, and the evening continued on a lighter note.
Vicky spoke of Liverpool and the old haunts, and how wonderful it would be to see Bridget and Dr Lucas, and when Lucy asked if she wanted her and Adam to accompany her, she graciously declined.
After all, she didn’t want them to find out the real reason she was going to Liverpool. Dr Lucas had written and told her how the Davidsons’ old home was back on the market, to be sold separately with a few acres of land.
She had an appointment to view it. And if she wanted to, she also had the money to buy it.
‘Follow your heart’ … that’s what Lucy had said just now. And that was what she must do.
Chapter 16
THE NEXT MORNING, Vicky awoke refreshed and feeling more like her old self. She and Lucy were waited on at breakfast by an attentive and vociferous Elsie, who proudly boasted of her ‘best bacon’ and new-made bread. ‘You’ll not find anything like that in ’Merica,’ she told Vicky, who thought it might be more than her life was worth to disagree.
When left alone, the two friends enjoyed their bacon and eggs. They drank the hot tea, and talked of the old life on Overhill Farm in Comberton by Weir, just outside Liverpool. ‘I’ve never stopped missing it,’ Vicky confessed. ‘Whenever I thought of Barney, I thought of us out in the field, bringing in the harvest, chasing each other in the long grass, or walking through the spinney with the dog.’
Lucy also recalled the good times – ah, there were so many of them! Before they even began on the bad things, she led the conversation away. ‘Adam should be here soon.’ She glanced up at the clock. She didn’t doubt that he would be on time. He always was.
‘Can I ask you something, Lucy?’
‘Of course, anything.’ Assuming it would be something personal about her and Barney, Lucy prepared herself.
‘When you went back to see Doctor Lucas, did you go to visit little Jamie … only you never mentioned him in your letters.’
Lucy was taken aback. ‘Yes, I did.’ Her voice was low.
‘And how did it affect you?’ Vicky needed to know. ‘I’m just wondering if you were as nervous as I am now, with the thought of seeing where Barney’s laid to rest. I don’t know what to expect of myself. I never imagined anything like this. I never dreamed …’ She paused. ‘Oh look, Lucy, I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset. You don’t have to answer. It’s just that – well, it makes it all so final, don’t you think?’
Lucy came to sit beside her. ‘It took me a long time to go back,’ she confessed. ‘I thought that by cutting off contact with everyone, I could fool myself that none of it ever happened. I know now, that you must never deny your past. You have to cling onto it … take it with you, because when it comes right down to it, your past is who you are. And yes, it did make it all seem so final, but I knew I had to do it, and though I never believed I would ever say this, I’m glad I went back. I’m glad I went to see Jamie. Yes, it hurt. But I feel calmer in myself for having gone through with it.’
Another question, but this time Lucy saw it coming. ‘Did they ever catch that maniac, Edward Trent?’
Lucy shuddered. ‘As far as I know, they never did.’
‘Do you think he’s dead?’
‘I hope so!’
‘What if he’s not?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, if he’s still around, would he ever take it into his head to come after you?’
Lucy had often wondered about that, and she said so now. ‘But there is no way he can ever find me, thank God. The only people I left a forwarding address with were Bridget, Amy and the good doctor. I know they would never give out my address, especially not to him.’
‘Well, I hope you’re right, Lucy. I haven’t forgotten how crazy he was, and how besotted with you.’ She cautioned herself. ‘Oh, just listen to me, frightening you like that. Of course he won’t come back! Why would he, after all this time?’
Lucy laughed. ‘I’m not the slip of a thing I was back then,’ she pointed out. ‘If he did come after me, he’d take one look and head for the hills.’
‘Give over!’ Vicky could still see the loveliness in Lucy; it was a timeless essence that defied age and shone through the years. ‘You might have changed a little on the outside, but you’re still that special person you always were.’
When she had seen Lucy waiting on the platform last night, she knew straight away that it was the sa
me Lucy, the same good friend with whom she had shared so much. ‘You’ve still got that everlasting twinkle in your eye,’ she said with a cheeky wink. ‘I’m sure Adam’s told you that many a time, has he not?’
‘Hmh! You don’t miss much, do you? But don’t get too excited, because there is nothing between us. We’re both too old in the tooth to be acting like love-struck youngsters.’
‘All the same, I wouldn’t mind betting that he’s asked you to marry him. Am I right?’
Lucy had to admit it. ‘You haven’t lost your nose for a bit of gossip, have you?’
‘So, have you said yes?’
‘No, I haven’t. Nor am I likely to.’
‘Why not?’
‘I have my reasons.’
Vicky sensed them. ‘You’re still in love with Barney, aren’t you?’
‘If I was, would you mind very much?’
‘Yes. But I would understand.’ Vicky paused. ‘You see, I too have never stopped loving Barney. Soon after poor Barney died, Leonard asked me time and again to marry him. My answer was always the same … no. But gradually I grew lonely; he wore me down, and I said yes, not because I loved Barney any less, but because I had a family to think of, and besides, Leonard had proven himself to be a caring, gentle man who had somehow wormed his way into my affections. Also, I believed in my heart that it was time to stop pining for Barney …’ Her voice broke.
‘Vicky, if I ask you something, will you promise to be honest with me?’
She promised.
‘Would it have been better for all of you, if I hadn’t written and told you the truth about Barney?’
Vicky took a moment to consider, but when she answered it was with conviction. ‘Lucy, if you never believe anything else, you must believe me when I say this: I’ll be forever grateful to you for telling me. I had a right to know! That’s why I can never forgive Leonard.’
Journey's End Page 17