by Gloria Cook
‘It’s not what you want, Jack,’ she said soothingly. ‘You’ve brought me here because you trust me to have the strength to face what you had to face. You’ve brought me here because you know I’ll understand.’ Verity was feeling the most nervous of her life but she was ready to face what was inside the trunk, however abhorrent.
Jack had a second key in his hand. It was small and elaborate and had fake rubies on the ring top. Still clinging to Verity he stooped and falteringly unlocked the trunk, then straightened up with a lamenting sigh. Verity gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Go on, Jack, lift the lid.’
‘Thanks,’ he whispered, and Verity felt that although he was drawing on her freely given support, he was becoming more and more drained. Stooping again he threw back the lid. Rather than look into the trunk Verity watched Jack. He had closed his eyes. She waited until he opened them and looked down. ‘Oh no,’ he rasped in a sickly whisper.
Verity knew he had been hoping the horror within the trunk had somehow gone, but it had not. She stared down into the trunk and her whole body gave an involuntary shudder. The trunk was filled with dolls, mostly parts of dolls, their limbs and heads ripped off with ugly force. Red paint had been splashed on them to depict blood. Eyes had been poked out or pushed inwards. Hair had been hacked off. Two dolls had their heads twisted round above string fashioned as a hangman’s noose. Doll torsos had been stabbed and slashed, dabbed with red paint. The dolls’ clothes had been cut, ripped and dripped with red paint. The carnage wasn’t of real people but it was almost as horrifying and gruesome. ‘Oh, my God, when did she start to do this?’
‘Probably not long after I brought her home. I’d noticed a certain doll had disappeared and when I asked her about it Lucinda would laugh and say it had been naughty and she’d punished it. This always coincided with red paint marks found on the table. She’d say she’d been making pictures but there was no evidence of any and I began to wonder what it meant. There were no sharp things kept in her room. Then one afternoon I overheard Lucinda in a rage; she wasn’t shouting or screaming but her tone chilled my soul. I came in and discovered her stabbing a doll with a nail file. I was astonished by her strength. She had gone completely wild and crazy and her eyes were glazed over. Polly was cowering in a corner and I was frightened of Lucinda too then, Verity. I feared if she saw me she would come after me and there wouldn’t be a thing I could do to defend myself even against her slight build. So I hid in the room until her madness seeped away. Then with eyes blank she gathered up the butchered doll and put it in this trunk and pushed it in under the bed. Then she cleaned up the mess, not completely, leaving a touch of paint as if she was leaving a touch of evidence of the terrible thing she had done. After that she lay down on the bed and fell asleep, at once looking like an angel. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Lucinda was vulnerable and couldn’t help being ill but she was also dangerous. I would have to watch her ever more closely. Eventually Polly crept on to the bed and snuggled into her.
‘I left the room and ran to the bathroom where I was sick. I’ve felt sick to my stomach every day since, Verity, because the very next day Lucinda went outside and hung herself, and as much as I was horrified and distraught I was glad. I didn’t know how long I could go on shielding her and I was terrified she would hurt Polly or one of the staff. The Kellands and Cathy were brilliant about Lucinda and devoted to her. Cathy would join in her games. She knew instinctively how to treat Lucinda. Lucinda couldn’t have borne being put in an asylum. She didn’t deserve that. If she had not been locked up and kept away from all reality she might have lived some semblance of a normal life. I loved her. It was a strange love, like a father or a brother’s, and I miss her, Verity. I miss the times when she was happy and laughing and running barefoot through the stream. I’m glad she’s at peace now. I’ll never regret knowing her and having her in my life. I miss her and feel I failed her.’
Jack broke down and wept and fell to his knees amid the outlandish nursery scene.
Verity went down beside him and wrapped her arms around him. She gathered his head on to her shoulder. ‘Cry for as long as you need to, Jack. You haven’t been able to grieve and now you can. Cry for Lucinda and cry for yourself. Believe me when I say you didn’t let her down. You brought her freedom and saved her from a terrible end in incarceration. And you brought me here to help and I won’t let you down.’
Twenty-Two
Finn insisted on holding Eloise in the dark, chilly church throughout her baptism. Soames Newton was in attendance as vicar’s warden, watching the events avidly in case something happened that he could gossip about in the Stores, yet smiling broadly at all and everything, a jollier individual now he was a widower and plied with lashings of female company and attention. He had made it known he was invited by, no less, Mrs Honoria Sanders for tea today. Finn hated Soames’ bobbing about, lighting candles, carrying his warden’s cross in a jaunty way, croaking the responses in the service when others present in the body of Christ were asked to make them.
The creaking Reverend Wentworth Lytton mumbled and raced through the proceedings. When he muttered, ‘Name this child,’ and Dorrie proudly declared the baby was to be baptized Eloise Veronica, Finn, while glaring darts of displeasure at the vicar, loudly and clearly repeated, ‘E-lo-ise Ve-ron-i-ca.’
Fiona dug him in the ribs. ‘Shh.’
Lytton duly sprinkled the blessed water over Eloise’s forehead, dripping some into her eyes, further angering Finn. Eloise obligingly cried ‘the devil out’ and Finn cuddled and comforted her.
Once outside in the warm and windy sunlight, the party posed in the church doorway while Guy took photographs. Verity took some photos of him with Fiona, holding the baby, and Finn. Finn smiled with joy. He had secretly accepted that Guy was likely to be his future stepfather. Guy was his friend, and Finn wanted everyone to know it, which included the few curious villagers milling about in the churchyard.
‘Congratulations, Mrs Templeton,’ Soames bellowed heartily, slipping between the baptism party and holding out his thick podgy hand to Fiona. ‘You have a beautiful little daughter and a fine son. You’ve made a new life for yourself after going through some very trying circumstances – I know what that’s like – and the best of British to you!’
Finn accepted a vigorous handshake from Soames, Finn thinking the shopkeeper’s buoyancy would never annoy him again.
Dorrie and Greg smiled, as proud of the Templeton children as if they were their own grandchildren. Dorrie wondered what Finn would say to Lytton if he knew just before the service the vicar had asked Fiona if Guy was her child’s father. Finn would be hurt and furious for sure. Fiona had hissed back at the vicar, ‘I can assure you she is my husband’s child so there’s no need for you to be sanctimonious about it. Do you want to baptize my daughter or not?’
‘I did nothing wrong by making the inquiry,’ Lytton had retorted, wheezing in indignation.
‘That was most unchristian of you, Mr Lytton,’ Dorrie had chastised him crossly.
‘Never mind him,’ Guy had said sternly. ‘Only Eloise and God matters in this, and the godparents’ vows. Don’t let him spoil the day.’
Dorrie was afraid Fiona would let the miserable vicar spoil the occasion but Fiona did not. ‘We’re just as good as him,’ she said airily. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong and I and my little girl have every right to enter the church.’
Finn had concentrated on Eloise so far, but now that his mother and sister, and Mrs R, were driving on ahead in Guy’s car to uncover the food already laid out for the party, Finn singled out Belle. ‘You look lovely,’ he said, nonchalantly, for Charlie was virtually stuck to her side, holding her arm linked through his.
In a semi-pleated skirt and matching jacket and perky hat, her hair pinned up, Belle had the appearance of an understated movie star. ‘It was a lovely little ceremony, Finn. One of Reverend Lytton’s better ones actually. You mustn’t mind him. He’s old and bumbling and set in his ways. Charlie and I are goi
ng to take Mrs Pentecost and Rebecca in the van to Merrivale. I suppose you’ll walk with Sam and Jenna – oh and young Tilly.’
‘That’s right,’ Finn said. He had been going to ride his bike but remembered he should act as escort to Tilly. ‘We’ll be walking with the Vercoe family.’ But I’ll get you alone at some point.
With Jean pushing the twins in the pram and Denny giving the other younger children a ride on his shoulders and back, the group set off. Finn found himself striding side by side with Tilly. She made a trim little figure.
‘I can’t abide that vicar,’ she whispered vehemently.
‘Why?’ Finn asked uninterestedly, thinking about how he could be near Belle again.
‘He refused to bury poor young Mrs Newton in the churchyard. She was mistress for a while to my sister Cathy. She says Mrs Newton was the sweetest, most innocent person in the world. And she shouldn’t be blamed for doing away with herself; she was a sick lady and couldn’t have been really aware of what she was doing. Now Reverend Lytton has condemned her to wander about in limbo, forever a lost soul because she’s not lying in consecrated ground.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Finn said. He had always scoffed at such notions.
‘Oh, you believe she is in Heaven then?’ Tilly had to run a few steps to keep up with him.
Thoughtfully, Finn slowed down to accommodate her. ‘Your sister believes her mistress was an innocent lady. God’s got nothing against the innocent. It’s not in His nature. All I can say is thank goodness He’s more merciful than humankind.’
Tilly suddenly put her hand through the crook of his arm. ‘Oh, thank you, Finn. I’ll tell Cathy, it’ll be some comfort to her.’
‘It will stop her looking over her shoulder,’ Finn laughed, happy to keep Tilly on his arm. He enjoyed the moments she snatched to chat to him at Petherton. ‘Ghouls, ghosts and the rest of it are stupid superstitious beliefs, nothing more. When you die you either go up or down and you go where God thinks it’s fair. Have you ever been to Merrivale, Tilly?’
‘No, run past it a few times from out in the lane and it always looked dark and scary to me. Can’t wait to see all the changes your mum and Mr Carthewy have made.’
‘I did a lot of the work,’ Finn reminded her.
‘Yes, of course, you’re very talented. Finn, will you do a picture of me? I look awful in photos.’
‘Yes, if you like.’
‘Would you dash one off for me today while I’m all dressed up?’
‘Be pleased to.’
‘And . . .’
Finn glanced at her to see why she had halted and found she was blushing fiercely.
‘What? Don’t be afraid to say.’
‘Could . . . could you, um, make me look pretty?’
Laughing kindly, Finn slipped his arm round her waist and gave her hug. Tilly was such a little sweetheart. ‘That will be easy, you silly, you are the prettiest thing.’
Tilly gulped in surprise to be hauled in against his strong body and was filled with delight. She immediately fell in love with Finn.
Twenty-Three
‘See what I mean, Aunt Dor?’ Verity whispered to Dorrie as they passed round slices of christening cake. With none of the usual mixed fruit available dried plums from The Orchards had been added to the cake. ‘About Finn rooting his eyes on Belle? Do you think we ought to say something to him?’
‘Not us. I’ll get your Uncle Greg to take Finn quietly aside, it will sound better coming from a man. I agree with you that there’s cause for concern. Finn could make a big fool of himself and lose Sam’s friendship. It would be a pity if trouble came here now everything has settled down nicely.’
Dorrie trotted to the end of the sitting room where Greg was in deep conversation with Denny. Discussing horse racing form, undoubtedly, Dorrie shook her head ruefully. Greg struck a handsome sight in country gentleman form. Denny was wearing his suit, his bulging mid-section straining his braces and waistband. ‘Cake, Greg? Cake, Denny? Could I have a quick word, Greg?’
‘Not now, old thing, Denny and I are on important issues. There’s not a disaster pending, is there?’
‘No, well I can see you two are discussing something important,’ Dorrie replied airily. ‘But I would like that word with you soon – old boy.’
Dorrie made it her business to watch Finn surreptitiously. Tilly Vercoe was shadowing him, transfixed by him. She obviously had a deep crush on him, and Finn was happy to chat to her, but his gaze kept straying to Belle. Belle was sitting with Eloise on her lap and tickling the baby’s chin and making her chuckle and coo. Charlie was gazing dotingly at his wife. He looked up and caught the direction of Finn’s dreamy eyes and frowned. Dorrie shot towards Finn.
‘Did I hear you’re going to do a drawing of Tilly? Why not take her out into the garden, somewhere sunny, where you’ll get a good light.’
‘Oh, yes, could you do it now please, Finn?’ Tilly trilled. ‘I have to be back on duty quite soon.’
‘Sure, let me get my things and we’ll slip outside.’
Dorrie heard the reluctance to leave the room in Finn’s reply. He ran upstairs and was soon down again and collected Tilly. ‘This way.’ As Tilly eagerly followed on his heels, Finn stopped beside Belle’s chair and, leaning over, he made a fuss of Eloise. Dorrie saw Charlie staring down, unimpressed, on Finn’s lowered head. She sighed, for to anyone’s mind Finn was unacceptably close to Belle, his cheek almost brushing her arm.
Belle was on the bed early waiting for Charlie to join her. All she was wearing was her Wings Of Love perfume. Charlie came naked into their slant-ceiling bedroom, lowering his head under the low doorway and beams, having finished in the bathroom. As he always did, he dropped his clothes and shoes to the black floorboards. Belle gazed hungrily at his muscular arms and torso, the crisp dark hairs on his chest and arms, his huge rough knowledgeable hands. She wanted him, urgently. He put his hands on the bed and came at her. She gripped his bottom lip with her teeth and pulled him to her.
‘You grow more beautiful every day,’ he murmured lustily, and he leapt on her.
In seconds they were striving with each other, almost fighting with each other, seeking to use their mouths and hands in new ways, almost unbearably exquisite ways. Love-making was like this for them sometimes when their heat and need was verging on the excruciating. They used every variation they knew and time went on and on.
If Sam were home instead of being with Jenna at By The Way he would have been disturbed by the variety of his parents’ grunts, moans, exclamations and sighs. He might have believed they would even break their bed. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to face them again without being horribly embarrassed. Belle and Charlie loved it when Sam wasn’t in the house so they could let themselves be at their wildest.
The couple finished on an earth-shattering yell. It was a while before they were able to separate and fling themselves sweaty and exhausted flat on their backs. They grasped each other’s hands.
‘Bloody hell, that was marvellous,’ Charlie got out eventually. ‘Wondrous heaven, I love you so much, Belle Lawry.’
Belle turned on her side, levered her body up a little then dropped down across Charlie’s oily chest. She murmured, ‘Glorious heaven, I love you so much too, Charlie Lawry.’
They lay still and cooled down, their heartbeats gradually slowing to normal and their breathing easing. They were sated and relaxed. Nearly every day they made love. After such a prolonged, fierce coupling they had no need, and indeed no energy, to go again.
Charlie wrapped them cosily in the covers. ‘It’s strange and disappointing that we’ve only managed to produce Sam, not as much as a sign of another baby. Does it still worry you?’
‘Not as much as before,’ Belle said, snuggling in closer to him. She loved this time after love-making when Charlie would tenderly caress and stroke her, play with her hair, kiss her with long loving pecks, and ask about the deep things she might have on her mind. ‘I used to be very jealous of J
ean Vercoe so easily pushing out kid after kid, but I wasn’t that bothered when she had the twins. When Fiona Templeton had her little girl I viewed it much the same way as Dorrie did. After all, Dorrie lost her only child. As long as I’ve got you and Sam I have everything I could ever want. I’d never let anything come between us and our happiness.’
‘Me neither.’ Charlie kissed her again, on the brow, the soft place above her nose, and held her thoughtfully.
Belle knew this special routine of his, as she did his every hint of breath and his expressions. He had something on his mind concerning what she had just said, about the thing that scared her most, her family peace, happiness and togetherness. A trickle of panic rode her naked, sweat-lagged back but her desire to protect her precious family superseded the dread. She was ready like a tigress to fight for her man and her son.
‘What is it, darling?’ She spoke out of love but also as a demand, raising up above him and claiming his eyes, his beautiful greyish-blue eyes, now darkened with unrest.
‘You’ve got an admirer, darling, nothing new of course, you turn the head of every man who passes you by, but this one is different.’ His tone was serious, grave.
‘And you do the same to women. Different? What do you mean? Who is it?’
Charlie clamped her to him territorially. ‘I’m talking about Finn.’
‘Finn! Don’t be silly. He’s just a boy, just Sam’s friend. No, never.’ Belle let all the tension out of her body. This brought her femininity brushing against where Charlie was mostly a man and she wanted to make love to him, to pleasure him, to do all the work. ‘Besides, it looks like he’s getting together with little Tilly Vercoe, and his mind is always mostly on Eloise.’