As Jess gently closed the book, her throat was full. Poor Martha, she had suffered so much in her young life. She was almost at the end of the journal now and hoped that it would have a happy ending. God knows, the girl deserved it after all she had been through. At times, Jess had been sorely tempted to cheat and read the last page, but had so far managed to resist doing so. Each time she read an extract it seemed to bring her closer to Martha – so close that she could picture her now if she closed her eyes or even looked into a mirror.
She had not been up to the attic since coming out of hospital, but today she felt the need to and slowly headed in that direction. At the foot of the steep staircase she stared up, picturing herself tumbling the whole length of them. But who had pushed her? No matter what Simon said, she knew that someone had been there. She could still remember the feel of their hand on her back before she fell.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly started upward, and once at the top she headed straight for Martha’s room. Again the overpowering smell of roses met her and she clasped her hands in consternation. Why was Martha still here? And what was she trying to tell her? Eventually she went out, closed the door and made her way into the large storage attic where she peered aimlessly out of the window, which overlooked the drive and Blue Brick Cottage. What she saw made her frown: Simon’s Land Rover was parked at the end of the drive and she could see him talking to Laura. Of course, they were too far away for her to see their faces, but by the way Laura was waving her arms about, it looked like they were having a heated argument. After a few minutes she saw Simon climb into his vehicle and roar up the drive, so she hastily went back down the stairs to see what was wrong.
He was already in the kitchen by the time she got there, looking none too pleased with himself.
‘I thought you might be back early with the weather being as it is,’ she said, before adding, ‘Is everything all right? You’ve got a face like a slapped arse on you.’
‘Oh, I’m just having a bad day, that’s all,’ he retorted.
Jess waited for him to tell her that he had been speaking to Laura, and when he didn’t, she asked tentatively, ‘Didn’t I see you speaking to Laura at the end of the drive just now?’
‘What! Oh, er . . . yes. She was just asking how you were,’ he replied, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
‘Really? I’m surprised she hasn’t been up to see me. Beth never comes here either now, which is strange because until a few months ago she couldn’t keep away. I thought I might take a gentle wander down to see them when I feel up to it.’
‘I shouldn’t advise that,’ he said, a little too quickly. ‘You’ve got enough troubles of your own without having to listen to hers. I just want you to concentrate on getting well.’
Simon obviously wasn’t in the best of moods and Jess didn’t want to make things worse. It was hard enough just getting through each day at the moment without adding to her worries.
‘I think I might go up and have a lie-down for a while,’ she said now, not that keen on staying to look at Simon’s frowning face.
‘What? Oh, yes . . . right you are. It will do you good. I might go and pick the girls up from school in a while. It’s started to rain again and the wind out there is enough to cut you in two.’
Jess didn’t say a thing although she guessed that Mel would rather walk a marathon in a gale than have her dad pick her up. Things were no better between them – in fact, they had deteriorated to the point that Mel could barely bring herself to be civil to him.
Jess plodded painfully upstairs and was sound asleep before her head had scarcely had time to hit the pillow. Some time later, she awoke to the sound of someone crying. She slithered off the bed and padded along the landing towards Jo’s room, cursing softly. Just what the hell was happening to this family? If it wasn’t one of the girls crying it was the other – and they seemed to be lurching from one crisis to another.
‘What’s wrong now?’ she snapped, when she saw Jo huddled in a miserable heap on the bed.
‘It’s Dad and Mel . . . they’re arguing again,’ Jo whimpered. Jess’s anger dissolved as she placed a comforting arm about her daughter’s shoulders. None of what had happened was her fault after all.
‘Then I suggest we leave them to it.’ Tilting Jo’s chin she smiled at her younger daughter reassuringly. ‘It’s high time they sorted themselves out, don’t you agree? I’m sick and tired of the way they behave towards each other, and just for tonight they can bloody well get on with it. They can tear each other limb from limb, for all I care!’
Jo giggled. Her mum didn’t swear often, at least not in front of her and Mel, and when she did she always found it amusing. It was then they heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and seconds later Mel skimmed past the open bedroom door as if Lucifer himself were after her.
‘Right, now she’s gone off to sulk in her room and Dad will be sulking downstairs,’ Jess told Jo matter-of-factly. ‘So I am going to take full advantage of the peace and quiet and go for a nice long soak in the bath. And you, young lady, can listen to your CDs or watch telly, eh?’
Jo nodded vigorously as Jess planted a kiss on her cheek before heading off to the bathroom for the promised soak.
Half an hour later Jess was tucked back up in bed again with Martha’s journal on her lap and the bedroom nice and cosy. She was eager to find out what happened to Martha now and so she opened the journal with anticipation and settled down to read.
10 February
The house has not been the same since Master Leonard and Miss Melody left, and all of us are missing them sorely. The Master had Bertie into his study shortly after they left and told him in a voice that we could all hear that if he did not pull himself together and get back to work, he would be dismissed. Bertie slammed out of the Master’s study when the lecture was over and I could see the hatred burning in his eyes . . .
As Phoebe carried Granny’s tray back into the kitchen, Martha looked at it and asked, ‘Has she eaten anythin’, Phoebe?’
Phoebe shook her head as she poured the untouched soup into the swill bucket for the pig.
‘Not so much as a mouthful.’ The older woman sighed. Since Grace had died, Granny Reid seemed to have lost the will to live and just lay there in bed staring at the ceiling.
‘Perhaps the doctor will be able to prescribe a stronger tonic when he calls to see her tomorrow?’ Martha suggested hopefully.
‘Ah, the thing is . . . the Master came in ’ere earlier on an’ told me that the doctor won’t be callin’ again.’ Phoebe looked at Martha apologetically, as if it was her fault. ‘He reckons there ain’t no point, but between you an’ me I don’t think he wants to ’ave to carry on payin’ the bills.’
Martha opened her mouth to protest but the words were checked when Bertie suddenly appeared from the open cellar door at the end of the kitchen. He was in the process of taking all the crates of wine that had been delivered earlier in the afternoon down to the wine-racks below. ‘Would yer just look at this lot,’ he snorted in disgust. ‘I know I’ve been hittin’ the hard stuff more than I should, but this tells me the wicked old bastard is goin’ to be startin’ ’is tricks again – yer know? Drunken parties an’ what not.’
‘Now that the young Master an’ Mistress ’ave gone, yer could well be right,’ Phoebe agreed. ‘But there ain’t much we can do about it.’
Bertie grunted before hoisting another crate and disappeared back down into the cellar.
‘Try not to worry about yer Granny, love,’ Phoebe told Martha. ‘Grief takes different folks different ways, an’ yer do have Jimmy’s visit to look forward to. When is he comin’ to see the Master?’
‘Friday night,’ Martha told her, as she dried her hands on a piece of huckaback. ‘But I wish he could have asked Miss Melody permission fer us to wed instead of havin’ to ask him.’
‘Well, in all fairness they’d no sooner decided to go than they’d upped an’ gone, an’ the Master does know that Jimmy had asked perm
ission to walk out wi’ you, so it won’t come as no surprise to him.’
‘I know that, but I feel nervous about it all the same,’ Martha muttered. But there was nothing to be done now but wait and see what the outcome of Jimmy’s visit would be.
14 February
I am to be married in June! Jimmy and I will live in a cottage within the grounds of Leathermill Farm and Granny will come with us . . .
‘What? Yer mean he’s agreed to it?’ Martha’s eyes stretched wide as she stared up at Jimmy, who was grinning from ear to ear.
‘Aye, he has that, and he even allowed me to suggest a date. I said the sixth o’ June. Will that suit yer?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Martha laughed for the first time since Grace had died as Jimmy lifted her off her feet and swung her about.
‘We’re goin’ to live in a little cottage in the grounds of Leathermill Farm. I’ve already cleared it wi’ Farmer Codd, an’ yer Granny can come too. What do yer think o’ that? You’ll not have far to come to work each day, will yer?’
Jimmy’s happiness was infectious but suddenly the smile slid from Martha’s face as she asked, ‘But what about Bertie?’
Jimmy shrugged. ‘There ain’t much we can do for him, I’m afraid,’ he admitted. ‘But at least you’ll still get to see him each day, an’ Phoebe and Hal will keep their eye on him.’
‘But he hates the Master so.’ Martha looked up into Jimmy’s eyes. ‘I’m fearful what he might do to him, given half a chance.’
‘Now he’s come off the booze he’ll be more sensible,’ Jimmy assured her, but deep down he too had concerns, for every time Bertie so much as looked at the Master his loathing for the man was writ there on his face for all to see. Even so, they had wedding plans to make, so for now their talk turned to happier things as they began to plan their future. One thing was for sure: now that Martha knew she would not have to sleep under this roof for much longer, she felt a lot happier.
16 February
Last night, as I went from room to room checking that all was well before retiring to bed, the Master came out of his study and waylaid me in the hallway. I was shaking so much that I could scarcely hold the lamp I was carrying. And yet he seemed reasonable and sober when he asked to speak to me and so I followed him into his study. What a terrible mistake that was . . .
‘So, did Jimmy tell you that I have given my permission for you to marry in June?’ Lifting a heavy cut glass tumbler full of whisky, the Master eyed Martha as she nodded slowly.
‘Yes, he did, and thank you kindly, sir.’
‘Hm, and how do you think you will enjoy being a married woman? Are you aware of all that being wedded entails?’
‘I er . . . yes, I think so, sir.’ The first flames of fear were beginning to flicker in Martha’s stomach as colour rose in her cheeks, and without even being conscious of what she was doing, she began to slowly back towards the door.
‘I just wonder if you do.’ The Master slammed his glass down, sending sprays of amber-coloured liquid all over the beautiful silk-fringed rugs Miss Melody had chosen, and then he began to slowly unbutton the fine satin waistcoat beneath his frockcoat as Martha looked on in horror.
‘There’s more to looking after a man than putting his meals on the table and keeping a clean house,’ the Master told her now with a strange glint in his eye, and terror suddenly ripped through Martha as she realised his intentions. He had taken Grace down before her wedding to Bertie, and now he intended to do the same to her – and she knew that she would not be able to bear it. She turned in such haste that she tripped on her skirt and the lamp she was holding crashed to the floor. Oblivious to the mess, she struggled to her feet and began to run, but she had not even reached the door when his arm suddenly came about her waist from behind, and he flipped her onto her back. Then like a wild animal, he began to tear at her skirts and the buttons on her blouse as she struggled against him. At last she was able to catch her breath again and began to scream at the top of her lungs.
Somehow he had managed to undo his trousers and now they flapped about his ankles as he positioned himself above her, panting, ‘’Tis my right to break in any virgin that works for me before she goes to her husband. This is what you must expect, once you are married. Lie still and you might even enjoy it!’
‘NO!’ Martha howled as she tried to tear at his face with her fingernails, but her strength was no match for his, and suddenly a pain the like of which she had never imagined tore through her as he entered her roughly. Martha felt as if she was caught in the grip of a nightmare as he bucked above her, and she continued to sob. The pain seemed to go on for ever but then the Master suddenly let out a deep groan and dropped his full weight on her as she felt something sticky and hot between her legs.
Just then, the door was suddenly thrown wide open and Bertie stood there. He took in the situation at a glance and before Martha had time to realise what was happening, he had covered the distance between them and the Master’s weight was suddenly shifted off her. Cringing with shame and embarrassment, Martha tried to cover her nakedness but Bertie had eyes only for the Master.
‘You dirty stinkin’ bastard!’ he roared, shaking the Master like a dog might shake a rabbit. ‘You’ll not take any more young lasses down after I’ve finished wi’ yer. Enough is enough.’ He then proceeded to flay the Master as Martha looked on helplessly, shaking with terror.
By now, Phoebe also appeared in the open doorway, one hand flying to her mouth as she made the sign of the cross on her chest with the other.
‘Bertie, fer God’s sake stop! You’ll kill ’im.’ She tried to pull Bertie away from the Master but the young man was beyond reason now and his clenched fists and feet continued to slam into him.
After what seemed like an eternity, as Phoebe added her screams to Martha’s, the Master went limp and collapsed in a pool of blood as Bertie stood looking down on him. It was then that Granny appeared with a thin shawl wrapped about her nightdress. She had heard all the commotion even up in the servants’ quarters and had somehow found the strength to come and see what was happening.
Leaning heavily against the doorframe with her breath coming in shuddering gasps, her gaze settled on Martha, and the light went out of her eyes
‘Oh no, not you too, lass,’ she whimpered, and then she too collapsed as Martha began to rock to and fro, weeping hysterically.
‘I shall have to send Hal fer the doctor,’ Phoebe said, distraught, and she sped from the room.
Both Granny and the Master appeared to be dead, Martha thought numbly, and what would become of poor Bertie now?
Somehow she managed to haul herself to her feet, and Bertie lifted Granny into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her back to her bed. Martha followed, unwilling to be left alone with the Master.
The doctor arrived almost an hour later, and shook his head gravely as he examined the Master. ‘He’s in a bad way,’ he informed them, then to Hal, ‘Get the horse and carriage ready, would you, Hal? We need to get him into hospital. He may have internal bleeding. I’m afraid we shall need to fetch the Constable, too. Perhaps young Jimmy would go for him?’
Within no time at all Hal had the carriage at the front door and he and the doctor lifted the Master into the carriage and set off for the hospital. Shortly after they had gone the Constable arrived and started to question Bertie and Martha.
‘So what started all this then?’ The man really had no need to ask as he looked at the state of Martha’s clothing, but rules had to be followed.
‘The Master . . . he . . .’ Martha broke into a fresh torrent of sobbing. ‘He called me in here an’ he . . .’
Phoebe hugged her protectively as the girl squirmed with humiliation in her arms.
‘Ain’t it more than clear what ’appened?’ she snapped. ‘The Master raped the girl, an’ when Bertie ’eard her screams he ran in here to ’elp her.’
‘Aye, it were me as battered him,’ Bertie admitted now. ‘An’ I’d do
the same again, given ’alf a chance, so don’t expect no apologies from me, man! The dirty swine got no more than was comin’ to ’im an’ I just wish I’d done it sooner. He took me own wife down afore we were wed an’ left her wi’ a bellyful, an’ if I’d done it then I could have saved Martha from havin’ to go through the same thing. He’s a sick, rotten bastard, an’ I hope he dies a slow painful death, so I do!’
‘Aw Bertie, man.’ There was a measure of sympathy in the Constable’s voice, for Bertie was a well-respected member of the community, but even so he was there to enforce the law. ‘You know I’m goin’ to have to take you in fer this, don’t you? An’ if the Master should die . . . Well, you’ll be up for murder an’ you could well face the noose.’
‘No!’ Martha whispered, appalled. The nightmare seemed set to continue and it was so unfair.
The Constable said to her, ‘I’m right sorry for what’s happened, miss. Would you like me to send the doctor back to look you over once he’s got the Master to hospital?’
When Martha shook her head he nodded and strode from the room and she watched helplessly as Bertie was taken away.
‘It’s wrong,’ she sobbed into Phoebe’s shoulder. ‘Bertie was only tryin’ to help me. An’ what if the Master has planted his seed in me?’ The very thought of that was terrifying.
‘Let’s face each problem as we come to it, eh, pet?’ Phoebe soothed. ‘Fer now we need to go an’ check on yer granny. She’s had a terrible shock, an’ in her state o’ health it ain’t goin’ to do her no good at all. Then we’ll get you cleaned up again.’ She led Martha from the room by the hand as if she was a small child and as Martha limped along with her, she felt as if her whole world was crashing about her ears.
18 February
Word has reached us that the Master is rallying round. He has three broken ribs and is covered in cuts and bruises, but the doctor brought word that he will live. Even so, Bertie will face a long prison sentence for inflicting his injuries and I cannot help but feel it is all my fault. Jimmy has called twice, but each time I have made an excuse not to see him . . .
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