by Anna Jacobs
They both hurried up the back stairs as Pearl went to answer the door.
Marcus was ready first. “I’ll go and keep an eye on Fleming. Take your time, Serena. He hasn’t seen you in your new clothes and it won’t hurt for you to look your best.” He went downstairs, pausing in the doorway of the sitting room to stare at Fleming, who was warming his hands at the fire.
“You must be my son-in-law.” The visitor came forward, hand outstretched.
Marcus gave it the briefest possible of shakes. “Won’t you sit down?” He indicated an armchair.
Fleming sat in the chair, looking as calm as if he hadn’t recently sent his men to this very house to kidnap his daughter.
Disgust for the man sat like nausea in Marcus’s throat. He’d met one or two like him, icy manipulators who cared nothing for other people’s feelings, and he hated to think that Serena had spent most of her life in this one’s power. Only a very strong woman could have survived years of browbeating without becoming docile and cowed.
He was thankful she still had an independence of mind and spirit, but her upbringing had marked her nonetheless. He knew she was unable to trust other people easily, but he felt he was winning her trust—and her love, too, he hoped. Hearing footsteps approaching, he stood up. “Ah, there you are, darling.”
As Serena walked in, Fleming’s eyes narrowed and he said nothing, just looked her up and down, not bothering to hide his surprise at her changed appearance.
Marcus went to put his arm round her shoulders. “Come and sit down. Mr Fleming was just about to explain what brought him here.”
Fleming stood up and moved across to Serena. When she took a step backwards, he stopped. “I wanted to see my daughter, of course, and to meet you, Graye, since you’re married to her—even if it was against my wishes.”
“She’s old enough to make up her own mind about that.”
“Ah, but was she in a suitable frame of mind after the loss of her mother to choose sensibly?
My daughter has always—”
Serena decided she wasn’t going to be talked about like this, as if she had no mind or opinions of her own. “We both know I’m not your daughter.” She could see that Fleming were surprised by her interruption, but Marcus gave her a nod and sat back, as if leaving her to take charge of this interview. The length of his thigh was pressed against hers, however, its warmth sending a continuing message of support that heartened her.
“We know nothing of the sort,” Fleming snapped. “Are you suggesting that your mother was of loose morals, would have been unfaithful to her marriage vows?”
“I don’t intend to discuss my mother with you, apart from saying I know she wouldn’t lie to me when she was dying. You and I have nothing to say to one another now that isn’t best said through a lawyer, so don’t let us keep you. I can’t think why you came out here. You must know how I feel.”
His voice suddenly rang with his old hectoring tone, the sharpness of which had reduced her to silence and obedience on many occasions. “I came to try to put a stop to your foolishness, Serena, and you are being foolish, very foolish indeed. It isn’t too late to have this marriage declared null and void, and whatever you say, you are in an unstable state mentally. That’s very obvious to me, who knows you better than anyone. Why, look at the way you’ve changed your appearance, the way you’re aping younger women. At your age! You look utterly ridiculous in those clothes and as for that short hair—it’s so common! People are no doubt laughing at you behind your back.”
Beside her, Marcus twitched and shot a quick look sideways, eyebrow raised as if to ask whether she needed his help.
At that moment she realised that Fleming had lost some of his power to hurt her verbally. She wasn’t dependent on him now and it was her own efforts that had set her free, which she was secretly proud of, so she answered him with the simple truth. “Actually, I’m happier than I’ve been for many years and I’m delighted with my appearance. No need to dress dowdily now to avoid your men friends. I can be myself at last.” She took Marcus’s hand. “And I couldn’t be happier!”
When her husband raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, she gave him a dazzling smile.
Breath whistled into Fleming’s mouth and his expression turned grim, but he didn’t move from his chair. “I think you’ll find this so-called happiness is an illusion. Graye is only after your money.”
“And you aren’t?” she asked quickly.
He ignored that. “I hear your brother Frank is back in town.”
“Oh?” She wondered how much he knew, so didn’t comment.
“And I gather he’s been out here to visit you.”
She still didn’t answer, using his own trick of waiting until someone grew uncomfortable with the silence.
In the end Fleming leaned forward and snapped, “Well, hasn’t Frank been here?”
“He prefers to be called Aubrey now.”
“His name is Frank. Frank Fleming.”
“That’s up to him now.”
“We’ll see about that.” Fleming broke off for a moment, taking a couple of deep, slow breaths.
The traces of anger vanished from his face, leaving it as cold as a statue’s. “You really should know me better than to continue annoying me like this, Serena. Your stupid insistence on finding out what happened to the annuity income will get you nowhere. As I’ve already told you, I lost that money through bad investments, which I deeply regret. But that’s water under the bridge now. You will find life much pleasanter if you don’t have to worry about such things, and you’ll never be short of money in my house.”
Marcus stood up, amazed at the crudeness of this threat. “We don’t intend to discuss the matter of Serena’s money without our lawyer present. And I too think you’ve said enough for now, more than enough. Let me show you out, Mr Fleming.” He gestured towards the door.
After a moment’s hesitation the older man stood up, but before he moved he looked Serena up and down once again. “You’re wasted on him. I could have found you a much better husband had I known what you could look like.”
“But I love Marcus,” she said quite simply.
“And I love Serena. We’re both happy as we are.”
“Let’s hope you stay happy.” Fleming stood up and walked towards the door. “Life is a fragile flower, is it not?”
Marcus set Serena on one side and whispered, “Stay here!” He followed their unwanted guest to the front door. Before he opened it, he said, “Don’t come here again, Fleming, or try to contact my wife.”
“She’s still my daughter and I have her welfare at heart.”
“We both know neither of those statements is true. It’s her money you want.”
The mask slipped for a moment. “And I’ll have it too—whatever it takes to get it. I’m owed it for what I did for her and her mother. I gave her a respectable name. What’s more you should remember that I always get what I want in the end, one way or another. If you continue to stand in my way, you shouldn’t feel too confident about your own future.”
“You’re admitting your theft, then? And offering us more threats?”
“Not where anyone can overhear us.” Fleming walked outside and sauntered across to the car, where Hudd was holding the door open. He got in without looking back.
Marcus didn’t move until the vehicle was out of sight, then he shivered and closed the door, walking slowly back into the sitting room.
Serena was standing looking into the fire, one hand on the mantelpiece. “I overheard what you were saying to him. He’s not going to give up, is he?”
“No.”
“How does he think he can force me to go back to him? I don’t understand that.” As Marcus came across to put his arms round her, she asked, “What are we going to do? We can’t spend the rest of our lives living in fear.”
“We’re going to make plans of our own. Consult our friends. Demand an accounting from Fleming. And in the meantime we should prepare for Christm
as.”
“Goodness, I’d forgotten all about that.” She forced a smile. “Only two more days to go.”
As she started moving towards the door, Marcus pulled her back into his arms. “I was proud of you just now. It can’t have been easy to face up to him.”
With a sigh she leaned against him, loving the way his lips brushed lightly against her temple.
“It’s easier to be brave when you’re not alone.”
“You were brave when you were on your own for a good many years.” He lifted her chin with his fingertip. “I really am glad we got married, Serena, and I do love you.”
Breath caught in her throat and she gave a shaky laugh. “I love you, too.” She put her arms round him and kissed him, then they stood for a moment or two, enjoying the closeness and warmth.
At length he stepped back. “Once Christmas is over, we’ll take the initiative against Fleming, I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll think about it, work something out. In the meantime, let’s enjoy the lull. I can’t imagine him doing anything over the next day or two, can you?”
“I hope not. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed Christmas. But we’d better be careful.”
Her voice was so wistful he hugged her again.
When she’d gone up to continue altering one of her old-fashioned frocks, he went to stare into the fire. He wasn’t sure there would be a lull over Christmas, though he didn’t intend to tell her that.
But Fleming was wrong about no one overhearing what he’d said to Marcus. While the two men were talking in the hall, there had been a listener at the open window upstairs. Pamela might be old, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing, and she’d heard and understood the implications of every word they exchanged.
She waited until Marcus had closed the front door behind him then went across to the bed and sat down on it, anger boiling hotly in her. That man! How dared he even come to this house?
He’d ruined her son Lawrence and now he was trying to ruin her nephew, who was the only person with Lonnerden blood left. Marcus was a poor second to Lawrence, to the man her son had been before the war anyway, but he was all the family she had left now. If it was the last thing she did, she’d make sure Fleming was stopped.
When Ada came in with her tea, Pamela was sitting in the chair by the fire.
“I didn’t know you wanted to get up, madam. You should have rung for help.”
“I wanted to see if I could manage on my own and I did. I intend to get up every day from now on—while I still can.” She looked at her maid, hating the pity in the woman’s eyes. If anyone knew how bad she was, how little time she had left, Ada did. “I’m grateful for your help over the past few years.”
“Oh. Well, thank you, madam. I’ll get your clothes now, shall I, and help you change?”
“Yes. And after that fetch up a tea tray, with two cups, then you can sit down and tell me all you know about what that man Fleming is doing.”
“I only know what I hear in the kitchen. I haven’t been into Tinsley for weeks.”
“Then you can tell me what the others are saying. They keep trying to protect me from anything unpleasant.”
Late that afternoon the five o’clock train pulled into Tinsley station. The two men who had fallen into conversation as they shared a compartment said goodbye and one got out. He pulled his hat down low over his forehead, then went to deposit his suitcase in the left luggage office before walking slowly out of the station. He needn’t have bothered to try to conceal his face. Dusk had already fallen and the people he encountered were more concerned with getting home for tea than studying the faces of passers-by.
He strolled along Yorkshire Road, amazed at the changes that had taken place since the last time he had been in Tinsley many years ago. Before he did anything else, he wanted to renew his acquaintance with the town where he’d been born and call on his brothers. Since the left luggage office stayed open until the last train at ten o’clock, he had time to do that before keeping his promise to Aubrey.
The train chugged slowly along the line. At the next stop, the village of Horton, the second man got out and asked directions to the Hall. “Is there a cab?”
“Sorry, sir. There’s only one cab driver and he isn’t working today.”
“I’ll carry your bag on my bicycle rack and show you the way there for threepence, sir,”
offered a youth who’d been unashamedly listening to them.
“You’re on.”
Picking up his bag the man followed his youthful guide briskly through the village, enjoying the clear air with its hint of frost. The street lamps stopped before the end of the village, but he had his guide to follow and his eyes soon grew accustomed to the darkness. Quite an isolated place, the Hall. Out of sight and out of hearing of the rest of the village. Not a good position, strategically.
Chapter 15
Later that evening there was a knock on the back door of the bookshop. Only the coalman and dustmen usually came round to the rear, and certainly not at this advanced hour, so Aubrey pulled the frying pan off the gas burner and went to peep out of the window before he answered it. It was too dark to make out more than the figure of a man, but he wasn’t tall or burly and seemed to be on his own.
There was a second knock, so Aubrey took the precaution of arming himself with a stout walking stick before he opened the door just a crack. But what he saw by the shaft of light streaming from the scullery made him throw the stick aside and fling the door wide open! “Jim!”
“I kept my promise, you see.”
“Come in, come in! Why on earth did you go to the back door?”
“I didn’t want to be seen coming here.”
“Seen by who?”
“I’ll explain later.” Jim picked up his suitcase and came inside. “For the moment, have you somewhere I can sleep? I don’t care if it’s on the floor, but I don’t want to be seen in the town till I’m ready.”
“I can do better than the floor. I’ve got a spare bedroom and the bed’s very comfortable. How long can you stay?”
“I’m not sure. A few days at least—if that’s all right with you?”
“All right! That’ll be wonderful! It means you’ll be here over Christmas.” Aubrey led the way into the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
He looked at the frying pan sitting next to the gas burner with its tiny piece of liver. “This won’t go far. I know! I’ll go out and buy us some fish and chips.”
“Buy one serving or people will wonder who the second lot is for.”
Aubrey stilled, staring at his friend in amazement. “What’s all the cloak and dagger stuff about? You’re the last person I’d have thought would—”
“I’ll explain as we eat. Now, go and get that fish and chips while I finish frying this.”
A quarter of an hour later the two men sat down at the tiny table to share a meal. Since both were hungry they ate steadily for a while before speaking then Jim asked, “Have you remembered anything else about yourself?”
“Yes, my name. I was born Frank Fleming, it seems.”
Jim’s fork dropped from his hand as he stared at Frank in shock. “Dear God, you can’t be that man’s son!”
Aubrey set down his knife and fork and looked pleadingly at his friend. “I’m not proud of it, I must admit, but I can’t change who my father is so I hope it won’t come between us.”
“No, of course not. I was just—surprised.”
“Why do you speak as if you hate him?”
Jim stared down at his plate, then said, “He did me a disservice a few years ago, the worst thing anyone has ever done to me in my whole life, and I came back to Tinsley to see him as well as you. I feel it’s more than time to sort a few matters out, though it’s too late for the main thing I wanted . . . Look, I can’t explain the details yet because it’s not my secret alone. Would you trust me and tell me all you know about him without asking too many questions? I’m still trying to work out wh
at to do, how to approach him, you see.”
“You’ve only to stay here and he’ll probably come to you. He’s got men trying to force me to see him, which I don’t want to do yet. I thought you were one of them when you knocked on the door.”
“Did you now? Why don’t you tell me all about it, lad?”
“I’d like to, Jim. I really need some advice. And—and you feel more like my father than he does.”
“I wish you were my son.”
Both men stared at one another, half-smiles on their faces, then, embarrassed by these admissions and emotions they applied themselves in silence to clearing their plates. Afterwards they boiled a kettle to get some hot water and washed up carefully before going to sit by the fire upstairs. Aubrey took up bottles of light ale from the crate of mixed beers Mrs Beamish had sent along as a Christmas present and poured out two glasses.
Jim took a long pull and then set down his glass. “Now, lad, tell me what’s been happening since you came back to Tinsley . . . ”
When there was a knock on the front door of the Hall just as they were all sitting down to their evening meal in the warmth of the big kitchen, Marcus went to answer it himself. He paused to pick up his revolver, just in case.
But the man grinning at him as he opened the door was nothing to do with Fleming. “Den!
Come in.”
“When I got your telegram I thought it might be best for me to come straight here. You sounded to need reinforcements, so I told Mum and Dad about your little problem. I’d have been here a couple of hours earlier, but I needed to get a declaration from Dad signed by a Justice of the Peace.”
“Den, you ugly old devil, I can’t think why I’m so glad to see you!” Marcus shook his hand vigorously. “Thanks for coming.”