Like Mother, Like Daughter

by Maggie Hope

  After a few satisfying moments they did as they were told. They didn’t realise that other eyes were watching them. The holly bushes near Half Hidden Cottage had been cleared away on Henry’s orders, but those on the opposite side of the drive to the Hall were still there and just as dense. Above them, in the beech trees planted in a row by Henry’s father to form an avenue, birds were busy singing as they built their nests, but they fell silent as the holly bushes rustled and branches moved.

  In the afternoon Jack and Cath walked along the path that ran up the slight incline to the farm and fields beyond. The path was sheltered in the lee of the hill and they walked close together, holding hands. Cath’s feelings were mixed: one moment she was so happy she thought she would burst, and the next she remembered there were things she had to tell Jack and that when she did it might be the end of everything between them. They passed the old outhouses and the ancient earth closet, the netty, and Cath shivered.

  Jack sensed that there was something still bothering her and he thought it must be the memory of the time he had behaved badly when she had been looking for Annie. He stopped walking and pulled her to him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Catherine,’ he said. ‘If I could only have that day back I would. I don’t know how I could have done what I did. I was mad—’

  ‘Don’t, don’t talk of those days,’ said Cath. ‘We have to forget them. Come on, I’ll race you to the top of the bank.’

  She set off running and after a moment he followed, easily catching up with her. Laughing and entwined in each other’s arms, they set off back down towards the old buildings.

  ‘I though we could knock down the outhouses and build a house where they are now,’ said Jack. ‘What do you think? It’s a good position, sheltered by the hill yet high enough up to have a fairly good view.’

  ‘Oh!’ Cath was surprised; she had thought they would live in the Hall, perhaps have their own quarters there. But it would be nice to have somewhere of their own. ‘I suppose,’ she said. They had reached the outbuildings by now, and she stopped and looked around.

  It was quite a good position for a house; very good, in fact.

  ‘We would get permission, too. I mean, where there are already buildings,’ said Jack. He left her side and walked over towards the netty. He stood there for a moment, apparently thinking. Then he turned and stepped towards her again.

  ‘No,’ he said loudly. ‘Perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea. Let’s go home. It’s turning colder now.’

  Cath had turned too and had taken a few steps down the hill when Jack turned once more and rushed to the netty, bursting the door open with his shoulder.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she cried, but he didn’t reply. There was a scuffling sound inside the tiny building, a muffled cry, then the sound of a blow and then another. And Jack came out, dragging a man behind him. At first Cath thought that he was a tramp, but realised soon enough he was not.

  His clothes were filthy and his face streaked with black, what could be seen of it for his straggly beard. His hair was standing in tufts of grease and dirt and the smell of him was rank. The man Jack was holding by an arm that was twisted up his back was Eric Bowron.

  ‘Bloody well let go of me!’ Eric shrieked. ‘You’re breaking my arm!’

  ‘I’ll break more than your arm, soldier, if you don’t stay still,’ said Jack. ‘And I’ll enjoy doing it.’

  ‘Eric!’ cried Cath. ‘It’s Eric, Jack, the man who attacked my mother!’

  ‘I thought perhaps it was,’ said Jack grimly. He had Eric lying on his face now, his arm still twisted up his back. ‘Just go and call the police, would you mind?’

  ‘No need for that, sir,’ a new voice joined in. Sergeant Duffy was puffing a little. Behind him were two constables from the town.

  ‘I’ll hand over to you, then,’ said Jack, rising to his feet and dusting his hands together before looking at them critically. ‘I think I’ll just head for home and a bath after that. Coming, Catherine?’

  Cath was speechless with the shock of what had happened, and so quickly. She trembled with it, and Jack noticed. He strode over to her and put his arm around her, steadying her.

  ‘I’m sorry, my love,’ he said. ‘Let’s go home now. A nice cup of tea will help.’

  ‘For goodness sake, I’m not a Victorian heroine: I’m not going to faint away!’ said Cath, annoyed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew someone was there?’

  ‘I will call in at the Hall later, Major Vaughan,’ Sergeant Duffy intervened tactfully. ‘We will just put this one where he belongs first. I will need a full statement from you, of course.’

  ‘Any time, Sergeant.’

  Jack and Cath walked on down the incline.

  ‘How did you know he was there?’ asked Cath. Her skin crawled at the thought that Eric had been so close and she hadn’t known.

  ‘I could smell him,’ said Jack and thought of the times in Korea when he had sensed the enemy was there in hiding nearby. His time in Korea had done some good.

  ‘Hiding in our own old outbuildings?’ Henry was enraged, affronted at the idea of the man who had attacked Sadie using his property for cover.

  ‘I don’t think he has been there all the time; they would have found him before this if he had,’ said Jack. ‘No, I think he has come back recently, maybe even just today. I think the police were hot on his tail too, else why should they be here today also?’

  ‘Perhaps they thought he might be going to attack one of us again,’ Cath suggested soberly. Jack caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Not while I was here, my love,’ he said.

  It was the housekeeper’s afternoon off, so Sadie came in with a tray of tea and a plate of hot buttered pikelets wrapped in a napkin. Oh, thought Cath, smiling to herself, her mother had picked up most of the ways of doing things the gentry were used to.

  They sat round the fire and ate as the gloaming closed in outside the window. Cath felt an enormous sense of relief; everything had lightened up now that she knew Eric Bowron was in the hands of the police. Annie would be safe now: she would get better or at least improve more than she was doing at present.

  The telephone rang and Henry went out to answer it. Jack and Cath sat close together on the sofa, holding hands. She would remember today; she would remember it all of her life. The time when she was truly happy.

  ‘That was the chief constable,’ Henry announced when he came back in the room. He settled himself down in his chair and Sadie went out to freshen the teapot. ‘They picked up this Eric Bowron’s trail a couple of days ago and followed him, guessing he was coming back here,’ Henry went on after accepting another cup when Sadie returned, leaning back against the cushions and stretching his feet out to the blazing fire. ‘Someone has been watching the estate for days. I’ll have a word about that; I’m not sure I like it – strangers spying on the place, even if they are the police. They could have told me.’

  ‘Oh, Henry,’ Sadie remonstrated with him. ‘What does it matter?’ Henry didn’t answer.

  Jack set off to drive Cath back to Durham after the evening meal. Of course, she could have caught the early bus the following day but they wanted some time on their own. He drove out to the road by way of Half Hidden Cottage and slowed as they came opposite it.

  ‘Let’s go in, check everything is all right,’ he said. There was moonlight by now and it shone palely on the windows. Jack had picked up the key as he left the Hall. Now he opened the front door and, with his arm around her, ushered her in and switched on the light.

  They stood together in the hall. ‘Nothing seems to have been disturbed,’ he said. ‘Let’s go upstairs and make sure, shall we?’

  They went up to the first floor and glanced in the rooms. He was right; everything was as it should be.

  ‘This is your room, isn’t it?’ he asked, drawing her in.

  ‘You knew it was all right, didn’t you?’ she accused him, and he grinned down at her.

  ‘I confess I had an ulterior moti
ve for getting you in here,’ he said. Bending to kiss her he lifted her up and put her on the bed and proceeded to undress her. Cath closed her eyes and let herself be carried away on a stream of mounting emotion. She forgot everything but that they were together and that she loved him and he loved her.

  It was morning when she woke. The grey dawn light was creeping into the room. She turned to look at him. Jack was lying on his side with his head close to hers, his arm still around her. She didn’t move in case she disturbed him, just gazed at him, loving the feel of his body stretched out beside her. He moved his leg suddenly, putting it over her, trapping her, as though he were frightened she would get away. Cath smiled.

  There was no hurry now. Jack would run her into Durham at half past eight, and it was now only seven; there was a whole hour and a half together first. She had to tell him about Mark. Now, while she had the courage. First she would make coffee though.

  Slipping away from him as carefully as she could, she pulled on an old robe she had hanging behind the bedroom door and went downstairs, shivering in the early dawn.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Jack woke with a great feeling of well-being. He turned and realised he was in the bed on his own, though he could still catch the scent of Cath. He breathed it deeply for a moment then stretched, got out of bed and pulled on his trousers. He went to the window and looked out. The sun was just coming up over the horizon and birds were singing. Dew sparkled on the grass. Though it was cold, it felt like spring. ‘God’s in his heaven,’ he quoted from the poem.

  Suddenly eager to see her, hold her, he ran down the stairs and into the kitchen where the scent of coffee was just beginning to permeate the air.

  Cath was pouring coffee. She had turned on the small electric fire to warm the kitchen and the whole atmosphere was welcoming.

  ‘Oh, I was going to bring yours up. Sorry if I woke you.’

  ‘It’s OK. Gosh, it smells gorgeous. Shall we go back to bed to drink it?’ Jack grinned wickedly and went to kiss her.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘No?’

  ‘I mean no, we’ll drink it here. It’s nice and warm and I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Catherine my love. We can talk in bed. After other things, of course.’

  ‘No,’ said Cath, backing away from him, and he realised she was serious. They sat down at the kitchen table.

  ‘Well, what is so important? More important than making love?’ Unconsciously, he put a hand up to his cheek and felt the furrow there. His old dread that she wouldn’t want him because of it returned briefly and irrationally, for she had shown no sign of being repulsed by it. He took a sip of the coffee to cover up the gesture but of course she had noticed it.

  ‘Oh Jack, it’s not that,’ she said and paused, trying to find the right words. He cocked his head to one side and waited for her to explain.

  ‘It’s about Mark,’ she said. ‘Mark and me.’

  She told him everything. How Mark had caught her at a low ebb, how she had thought he, Jack, wanted no more to do with her, how unhappy and worthless she had felt.

  ‘I felt something for him,’ she said, and Jack gave a low exclamation. ‘I didn’t know what it was. I felt I knew him. He reminded me of someone. Maybe my father, maybe my little brother. I don’t know.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Jack got to his feet and went to the window, then turned and strode to the door. ‘I can’t listen to this,’ he said.

  ‘Jack, please. Hear me out.’

  Jack paused, then turned and came back to the table. He stared at her; she was lovely, with her hair falling about her face, tousled after their night together, her cheeks rosy and her dark eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He sat down at the table.

  ‘Right, I’m listening,’ he said.

  ‘When I was a child, during the war, I remember my mother taking Annie and me and my baby brother into the Bishop’s park.’

  ‘Baby brother?’ Jack cut in.

  ‘Please, Jack, let me finish. She left Annie and me on the path near the Gaunless and told us to wait. Then she disappeared behind the deer house. Annie cried; I tried to comfort her. When I looked back at the deer house, Mam was coming back without Timmy and I saw someone was walking away towards Coundon.’

  ‘She gave the baby away?’

  ‘She said she was sending him to a nice house where he would be looked after. My dad was in North Africa – I think she was desperate. Anyway, to cut a long story short, she had done it before. Once, I think.’

  Fleetingly, she thought of the baby Sadie was expecting when she ran away after Keith Armstrong, the Canadian airman. Best not mention that.

  ‘The first time it was Mark, Jack. The second it was his younger brother. Daphne found out we were going out together and she told him.’

  Cath heard Jack’s chair scrape back and looked up quickly to see him going out of the door.

  ‘Jack!’ she cried, going after him. ‘Jack, I didn’t know. Please Jack!’

  Halfway up the stairs he turned to look at her. ‘I have to get away on my own,’ he said. ‘It’s so much to take in. I’m sorry, Catherine.’

  Cath caught the half past eight bus to Durham, getting into the office only a few minutes late. This morning the girls were punching the cards for the teachers’ monthly salaries; it was a busy day ahead.

  Cath was pleased about that, at least. So far she had got through the morning with her thoughts and feelings in a sort of frozen state of calm. Now the routine of the day would keep her occupied. She handed out the papers to the row of girls. Mary, the girl who usually worked on the card sorter, had rung in sick so she would have to do her job after she had finished the books.

  She worked steadily all morning, not taking a tea break and was still at her desk at dinner time when the others had gone chattering down to the basement to boil the kettle for tea and eat their sandwiches. She sat back and opened her own packet of egg sandwiches she had bought at the corner shop when she had finished, and took a bite then put it back in the drawer. She might as well get on with sorting the piles that were ready. Standing by the machine as it clacked and clattered away, she stared out at the grey day. In the distance the river ran brown and frothy and the trees above the grass were still bare with hardly a hint of green buds.

  There was a great weight in her. This was it, she told herself; she had told him too much, and he couldn’t cope with it. He hadn’t known how fast to get away from her. He wasn’t going to come back. It would be best if she didn’t go back home at all. It would only embarrass him if she did.

  At five o’clock she closed the office door after the other girls and went out into Old Elvet. For a moment she hesitated, unable to suppress the wild, illogical hope that he would be there, waiting for her.

  There were crowds of office workers walking rapidly towards the bus station; a few cars pulling out from the side of the broad road and zooming down to the traffic lights. Of course there was no Jack. How could she think there might have been?

  Cath thought bleakly of an evening in Gilesgate waiting for the telephone to ring. Then, as she turned to look up New Elvet she saw the bus was standing at the stop only a few yards away. On impulse she ran for it. Not that she intended going to the Hall, of course not. She would hide away in Half Hidden Cottage. At least she would be near him.

  Jack sat in his car outside the house in Gilesgate. He had not got to Old Elvet until half past five and the road was empty, Cath’s office dark. So he drove up to Gilesgate and waited there. He waited until seven thirty, then he climbed the steps to the front door and knocked.

  ‘I was expecting Cath to come this evening,’ said Hilda in answer to his query. ‘But I think she must have gone home to Bishop Auckland.’

  Jack thanked her and went back to his car, started up and headed for the Al. As he drove he thought of the meeting he had had with Mark that day in his lodgings in Durham.

  ‘I suppose Cath told you everythin
g,’ Mark said, looking apprehensive. ‘Come in, we’ll have to talk.’ He led the way upstairs to the couple of rooms he rented near the university. He changed to the defensive as he saw Jack’s expression. ‘It wasn’t my fault, you know; I didn’t know and nothing really happened. Not until my mother found out who it was I was seeing.’

  ‘You knew she was my girl,’ said Jack. His fists were clenching and unclenching by his side. ‘I trusted you to give her my letter.’

  ‘I know. I thought I loved her; I thought she might love me. I let her think you had deserted her.’

  Jack gazed at his one-time friend; oh, what was the point? The fact was he loved Catherine and he didn’t think he could live without her. He had been in Korea a long time and he knew he’d come back a changed man. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and went out. He would go to see her at work, he thought. There should be time to catch her coming out at five o’clock. There was a traffic jam in the narrow streets and then the traffic policeman in his box in the marketplace kept the lights on red to allow the jam to clear and in the end Jack missed her.

  Cath alighted from the bus at the entrance to Half Hidden Cottage and walked up the drive. It was very quiet; the wind soughed in the trees on either side and even the birds were silent. But she wasn’t nervous, not now that Eric Bowron had been caught. She stood outside the old cottage, wondering if anyone else would come to live in it now that Sadie had moved into the Hall. It was a nice house. It would be a shame if it stood empty for long.

  She walked around to the back, found the big old key to the kitchen door and let herself in. If anyone came past they would see a light in the back, she told herself. She found a tin of beans in the cupboard, heated them and ate them at the kitchen table. The only bread she had was her sandwiches from dinner time so she ate a sandwich too. Then she went out into the hall and climbed the stairs to the bathroom. The water was cold so she had a strip wash rather than a bath. As she opened the door she was grabbed suddenly from the side.