The Wrong Side of Happiness

by Tania Crosse

  ‘A miracle Beth found him—’

  ‘Yes, and thank you from the bottom of our hearts, Mr . . . ?’

  ‘Pencarrow. Richard Pencarrow. And this is my wife, Beth.’

  ‘And we’ve been able to further our enquiries, too,’ the inspector put in. ‘It seems that Mrs Trembath Senior left Okehampton on an earlier train than we thought. The same one, in fact, that her trunk was on. But having arranged for her trunk to be taken off at Tavistock, she changed on to the other line at Lydford so that she could break her journey at Mary Tavy.’

  ‘So she arrived at Tavistock South Station?’

  ‘Exactly. That’s what confused us. So it was certainly premeditated. She was seen walking towards the river carrying the baby, but was alone when she returned to the station. Perhaps she was originally intending to abandon him up on the moor, but the breaking storm deterred her.’

  ‘But how could she expect to come back as if nothing—?’

  ‘Her mind’s completely gone, Mr Pencarrow. She’ll live out her days in a prison asylum.’

  ‘Well, if you don’t need us for anything else just now, I’d like to take my wife and our son home. We’re . . .’ Morgan paused, spreading his hands, ‘. . . so grateful. We can’t thank you enough.’

  There were handshakes all round, drawing Tresca from the rapturous dream that had enveloped her. Oh, thank you, God. Thank you, Mr and Mrs Pencarrow. But as she caught Morgan’s wide grin, all she wanted was to get home where they belonged.

  She relinquished Callum into Morgan’s arms, since it was difficult for her to hold him with her plastered wrist, and they set off across the town square where a pathway had been cleared through the snow. Tresca clung to Morgan’s arm, and as he smiled down, his love seemed to pour into her. Connor had been her passion, always would be. His death, and what he must have suffered, had broken her spirit. But in a way, it was a release. Now she knew the truth. That his love had been as true as hers. That he had never abandoned her. He had died loving her, and now, though her heart would take time to heal, she could move on.

  She brushed away the tears she felt trickling down her cheeks. Tears of regret, but also of hope. And dear, dearest Morgan, who had taken his mother’s insanity so well, was by her side.

  He suddenly stopped, and in the middle of the square he bent over Callum’s sleeping form and his lips found Tresca’s, just for a moment, so soft and warm.

  ‘It’s wonderful to have Callum back,’ he choked. ‘We can be a proper family now. And . . . one day,’ he faltered, his eyebrows knitted, ‘do you think he might have some brothers and sisters?’

  Tresca blinked at him and her heart brimmed over. Slowly, she smiled through her tears.

  ‘Yes, I think he might,’ she whispered hoarsely.

  Morgan’s eyes travelled over her face and his hesitant smile answered hers. She linked her hand through his elbow and they walked on towards Bannawell Street, the place where so many people had come and gone from her life – Assumpta and her young family; poor Bella; her dearest, darling Connor who would remain in her heart for ever; and her beloved father who had died in ignominy in the workhouse, but at least she had been with him at the end.

  Yet through all the joy and all the sadness, Bannawell Street had become her home. She still had so many friends there, Jane, Elijah and his wife, Lucy, and Vera just around the corner. And of course, Morgan. And so, with peace in her heart at last, she walked towards the happy future that awaited her – with the man she knew she loved with a strong and steadfast heart.

  Author’s Note

  Today, Bannawell Street is a quaint and desirable residential area of Tavistock. In the nineteenth century, however, it was known as one of the most overcrowded streets in the town with a reputation for ‘colourful’ characters. The inhabitants in my book are entirely fictional, although Jane Ellacott is based on her namesake, also a widowed dairy-keeper, who became the warm and homely lady in my story. The Solloways were the Workhouse Master and Matron of the time, reported to have been fair and compassionate. Mr Szlumper was Chief Engineer on the railway, and Mr Pearce ran a grocer’s in Bank Square. I do not believe I have done them any injustice, but this book is not meant to be an accurate portrayal of any real-life person.

  As for shops in the town, many of those mentioned did actually exist. The town’s civic cemetery had recently opened, and the church in Callington Road did not become Catholic until 1952. The background events that affected the building of the railway have been followed as accurately as possible. The storm, the flood and the blizzard indeed took place and provided inspiration for the story.