by Anna Jacobs
He must have seen her at the window watching out for the children coming home from school, as she did every afternoon, but he made no attempt to signal to her. He just stood there, motionless, gazing round.
Had something bad happened to Mr Seaton? Was her father intending to push his way into her cottage and start telling her what to do again? Or had he come to see the children? His hair was more grizzled now, but he was still a big, strong man and no doubt still got his own way most of the time.
She moved to the back of the room, standing out of sight, watching him.
Why had he come? Why now?
When Ernest had failed to turn up, it had been because he’d died. Surely either she or Rhoda would have heard by now if her father-in-law had died? A chill ran down her spine at the thought, because if he had died, his nephew might hurt her children, who stood between him and the family fortune.
She’d grown too complacent, too comfortable in her little world, taking the easy way out, she admitted to herself. But the children had had some happy childhood years and she’d continued to save money, so it still seemed to have been the right thing to do.
But now she ought to work out an escape plan because the children were old enough to understand the need and to keep quiet about it to their friends. She had money saved now and she would be able to—
She sucked in her breath and forgot everything as the shadowy figure in the periphery of her vision suddenly moved, taking a step forward. Holding her breath, she watched her father stare down the street in the other direction.
Were the children coming home from school? Was that what he was waiting for? If so, she’d run out and—
To her relief, when Christopher and Elizabeth came into sight, they were walking beside her kind neighbour Mrs Dalton, who was carrying a shopping basket and chatting to them.
Surely he wouldn’t accost them where someone could see him? He didn’t. He merely stood watching intently. As they got closer, he edged back until he was mostly concealed behind the tree trunk. She could see him, but they probably wouldn’t notice him.
Still talking, the children passed the tree. At the gate they waved goodbye to Mrs Dalton who went on to Grandpa Brownley’s cottage. She sometimes gave the old man a few groceries, Kathleen knew.
She had the door open before the children got there and after they came inside, she locked it, sagging against it for a moment.
‘What are you locking the door for at this time of day, Mum?’ Christopher asked.
‘There was a strange man wandering round and I was worried he might try to get in and steal something. We’ll go and lock the back door as well, then I’ll get you something to eat and you can tell me what you did at school today.’
But when the children were safely seated with their milk and biscuits, she slipped into the front room and peeped out of the window again.
There was no one behind the tree now and her father wasn’t anywhere in the street, either. In future she’d be careful to keep the front door locked all the time.
Maybe she should go and meet the children from school every day, even though it was a couple of miles away in the next village?
No, they’d feel humiliated by that. Other mothers didn’t collect their children. Older brothers or sisters brought them home when they were little and as they grew older, they walked back with neighbours’ children. Some, even quite little ones, walked at least part of the way alone, especially those from small farms outside the village.
She returned to the kitchen in time to see a man walk past in the back lane. She could only see the top of his head above the hedge, but she recognised her father’s forehead and thick, coarse hair.
She pressed one hand against her stomach which suddenly felt as if it was full of lead. He was learning the lie of the land, she guessed. Why? Was he intending to break in?
Dear heaven, what would she have done if he’d tried? How could she possibly have stopped a strong man like him?
But he moved on and after that there was no sign of him at the front or back.
She forced herself to calm down. She would do what she had to, whatever it took to protect her children. And she’d finish making those plans. Oh yes, she would.
She still considered it better to stay here for a year or two longer if they could, but she was going to be ready to act.
In the morning, Kathleen walked as far as the edge of the village with Christopher and Elizabeth on the excuse that she was going to the shop. On the way they met some of the other children from school and when she stopped at the shop, the group of children walked off together, chattering away.
She didn’t really need anything, but people might wonder if she didn’t go in now she was here, so she bought some flour and three pieces of liquorice root for a treat tonight. They all loved to chew on the twig-like pieces and get a mouth full of the flavour.
That afternoon there was a knock on the front door and she checked who was there before she opened it, relieved to see Rhoda.
‘Since when do you lock your door?’ her friend asked.
‘Since yesterday. I’ll give you a key to let yourself in, but I’m keeping it locked all the time from now on.’
When they were both inside, she turned the key again.
‘What’s happened?’ Rhoda asked.
‘My father was in the village yesterday, standing across the road under that tree staring at this cottage. Then he watched the children come home from school. I was worried he’d try to talk to them but they were walking with Mrs Dalton, thank goodness. I saw him later walking along the back lane. Something must have happened to Mr Seaton.’
‘I’m afraid it has.’
‘He is dead, then?’
‘No, no. But I heard today that he’s been very ill. Pneumonia. They thought he was going to die. He’s turned the corner now but it’ll be a while before he recovers properly.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘One of the ladies I meet with in connection with our charity work told me about it.’ Rhoda didn’t tell Kathleen about her work in detail, because it was done secretly wherever possible. She greatly admired the young woman now running the Greyladies Trust and was happy to be involved.
Rhoda realised Kathleen had spoken and was waiting for an answer. ‘Sorry. My thoughts wandered for a moment. What did you say?’
‘That I was sorry to hear my father-in-law had been ill.’
‘Yes. Apparently Mr Seaton’s wife was frantically worried about him. Well, she would be. She doesn’t love him, but she needs a husband to make money for her, because she spends it without thinking, and also, he gives her credibility in her social life. Widows don’t get nearly as many invitations.’
‘You don’t sound as if you like her.’
‘I don’t. The thing is, Kathleen dear, this has made me consider what may happen to you if Mr Seaton dies suddenly. His wife won’t help you. And though he keeps telling us he’s going to make provisions for the children, bring them out into the open as his heirs, arrange a good education for them, he always says “in a year or two”. I’m sure he means that and is only insisting on you staying here quietly to keep them safe.’
‘I hope you’re right. If it isn’t safe, he would find it so much easier than I would to set us up in a new life somewhere. I’m so ignorant about the world.’ After a pause, she asked, ‘Do you think I’m right to stay here?’
‘At the moment, yes. My main worry is that he might die before he acknowledges them. From things he’s said, I think he worries that the lawyer might say something to Godfrey if he changed his will. Lawyers are supposed to keep such things confidential, but Mr Seaton doesn’t seem to trust anyone these days.’ Rhoda paused and added, in a tone of foreboding, ‘And then there’s his nephew taking advantage of the situation. Apparently when Mr Seaton fell ill, he went to the yard and tried to poke his nose into how the business is run, but your father refused to obey him.’
She hesitated. ‘Maybe you should consult a
lawyer yourself about the children’s position, find out whether they’ll be entitled to inherit anything if he doesn’t put them in his will. They’re more closely related to him than the nephew is, after all.’
Kathleen took the kettle off the hotplate and brewed a pot of tea. ‘I’m beginning to wonder whether I want my children to inherit anything if their grandmother is unfriendly and Godfrey Seaton hostile.’
‘Speak to a lawyer about it.’
Kathleen shook her head. ‘If Mr Seaton found out I’d consulted a lawyer, I think he’d be very angry indeed. I’m not certain of much but I am certain of that.’
She poured them cups of tea and they sat at the kitchen table sipping it slowly. ‘What I need is somewhere the children and I can flee to at a moment’s notice if anything happens to Mr Seaton, just in case Godfrey is as bad as you seem to think. I’ve been wondering where I could go, but it’s not easy to find somewhere truly safe.’
‘I may be able to help you with that. The ladies I’m working with are going to do something to help women who need somewhere to take refuge, just as you may do. There is some money available and we’re going to look for a house where they’ll be safe. It’ll probably be a few months before we can pull everything together. In the meantime my advice is to stay here, but be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. You could run down the lane to my house, if necessary. And I’ll tell one or two of the neighbours to come running if you call for help.’
‘Oh, I wish I could be certain what the right thing to do is.’
‘I feel sure you should wait until we see how Mr Seaton goes on and perhaps by then our refuge will be ready.’
Kathleen thanked her and decided to follow Rhoda’s advice. Her friend was older and knew more about the world than she did. She could only pray Mr Seaton didn’t die suddenly.
But she had to get ready to flee, that at least she could do.
Her first action was to take ten pounds out of her savings and sew it into the lining of her old leather shopping bag. She then hid her bank book carefully inside a book standing in the shelf in her front room. She had to cut the middles out of the pages to do that and it upset her to damage a book, but her children’s safety was far more important.
At least if you had money you were not totally helpless, as she’d felt before she ran away from home and rushed into marriage with Ernest.
Chapter Thirteen
It was three more months before Mr Seaton sent word that he was fully recovered and during that time, in May, King Edward died, which went to show that no one could avoid death, Kathleen thought, no matter how rich they were.
The papers reported that the King’s funeral at the end of the month had brought more royals together in one place than the world had ever seen before. She’d never heard of most of these small countries, and didn’t care who they were anyway. All she really cared about at the moment was keeping her children safe.
Rhoda had been to see Mr Seaton a couple of times and said he’d aged a lot lately, but he insisted he was feeling better all the time. She didn’t say so but she was clearly worried about him. Kathleen wondered if he was fooling himself about how well he was, but people could tick along in poor health for years, she’d seen it happen, so she had to hope for the best.
She felt on edge now in her cosy little cottage, which had seemed so safe before. She was forever watching over her shoulder, wondering what to do if there was trouble.
The children protested about her fussing but did as she asked most of the time, which was always to walk home with other people, always to keep the outer doors locked and never to sleep with bedroom windows open.
It was another month before her father-in-law was driven over to visit them and Kathleen was shocked by how much older and frailer he looked. It was one thing to hear from Rhoda that he’d aged a lot, quite another to see him shuffle slowly into her house using a walking stick like a man of eighty.
Even his voice had lost its mellifluous tone and he spent more time complaining about how motor cars and omnibuses were taking away his trade than in discussing her situation.
Eventually, since he didn’t raise the matter, she asked, ‘What shall I do if anything happens to you? You were going to think about it. I’m really worried about the children’s safety.’
He sighed. ‘I’m worried too. When my head stops aching so much, I’ll see my lawyer and make some plans, get things drawn up legally. The trouble is, the carting business isn’t bringing in as much money as it used to so I have to go carefully, make the money spin out. Lawyers are expensive.’
He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a money pouch, taking out four five-pound notes and handing them to her. ‘I brought this, just in case.’
‘In case of what?’
‘In case you need some money suddenly. How should I know what you might need? Put it away safely. I doubt you’ll have to use it, but it’s always wise to have something to tide you over.’
He took his leave soon afterwards, leaving her more worried than ever. He had been so vague, talking as if there was no real hurry to do anything. She’d known there wasn’t a lot of time left as soon as she looked at him. She understood what that fragile, almost transparent look meant for an old person. Well, it was obvious that he was on his last legs.
That evening she sat the children down and explained the whole situation and its implications to them in more detail than ever before, telling them all she knew about Godfrey Seaton. ‘We may have to flee at a minute’s notice and if so, you must do exactly as I tell you.’
At eight and seven years old they shouldn’t have had to face this, but since it was a distinct possibility, she wanted them to be properly prepared, so that they wouldn’t do anything stupid.
Finally, she tried to make them understand that they mustn’t tell anyone except Rhoda about this, not a word to their friends. ‘Not – one – word,’ she repeated emphatically. ‘Promise me.’
They asked several questions till they understood the situation, clever questions, too, for such young children. Then they went very quiet, with Christopher taking his sister’s hand, something he’d normally scorn to do.
‘Are you sure we’ll have to move away from here?’ he asked at last.
‘I’m fairly sure it’ll be necessary one day. I just don’t know when. But if we do have to run away, well, it’ll be to save our lives, so we’ll have no choice and I want no fussing and complaining.’
‘We won’t. And I promise I won’t leave Elizabeth on her own on the way back from school ever again.’
She didn’t comment on what that remark had given away.
‘You mustn’t be on your own either, Christopher. And you must neither of you trust strangers. For instance, if anyone tells you they’ve come with a message from me and are going to take you to me, it’ll be a lie. If there’s a problem while you’re at school, I’ll come to get you myself.’
‘What if you couldn’t come? What if you really did have to send us a message to tell us to meet you somewhere?’
She didn’t dare cut off any avenue of possible action, just in case. But how would she make a message safe?
Her son brightened up suddenly. ‘I know. In the past few Comic Cuts some boys are having an adventure. It’s so exciting and they use a password to make sure messages aren’t tricks. We could do that.’
She was dubious but didn’t want to destroy his eagerness to help. ‘I doubt we’ll have to go to those lengths, Christopher.’
‘But we might. And you always say it’s good to be prepared. Let’s plan it now, Mum. I know it’ll work.’
She gave in. At least this might make keeping a secret more exciting, though she doubted a password would ever become necessary. As for Comic Cuts, she thought it a very silly little magazine, but her son was mad for it, so she and another boy’s mother bought the two lads a copy on alternate weeks. ‘Very well. What password shall we use?’
They were all silent for a moment or two, then Christopher clapped
his hands together. ‘How about Timbuktu.’
‘Isn’t that too hard a word for Elizabeth to remember?’ Kathleen worried.
‘No, it’s not,’ her daughter said. ‘I’m sick of the sound of it. Those in the senior class at school have been reading about the stupid place and they all keep chanting the name.’
‘Then they’ll all know the password, so that won’t do.’
Christopher grinned. ‘We could change it to Timbukthree, though. They won’t know that and it’ll be easy to remember.’
Elizabeth clapped her hands, smiling and entering into the spirit of things now. ‘That’s a good idea.’
The children still didn’t appreciate the deadly seriousness of their situation, Kathleen realised, but she’d done as much as she could think of for the moment. And even if they treated it like a new sort of game, they’d do as she told them, which was what counted.
Another worry was preying on her mind. What was she going to do with them during the school holidays, which were fast approaching? Normally they played out with their friends, roaming the woods and paths near the village, but she’d be terrified to let them loose on their own in the countryside at present.
Later that day Rhoda came to report on another visit to Mr Seaton. ‘I asked him if he’d come up with any ideas about how to keep you and the children safe. I’m afraid he spoke sharply to me. But oh, dear, he looked even more unwell than when he came to see us. And him barely sixty!’
The Seatons didn’t seem long-lived as a family, Kathleen thought. She hoped her children would grow up stronger and healthier than their father and grandfather. They would if it was up to her.
A couple of weeks before the end of the school term Kathleen heard that her mother had died suddenly and was thrown into a quandary as to whether she should attend the funeral. Her conscience said she ought to, even though she’d not been close to her mother. Her brain said she’d be a fool to risk going openly into Swindon.
When a shabby little pony and trap stopped in front of her house and a man got out, she didn’t recognise him at first. Then he turned towards the house and she realised it was her father. He was looking careworn.