But he couldn’t do that to Vicki. He couldn’t do that to Ince. He knew what it meant to live with your heart breaking; they didn’t deserve that. He knew he had to pull himself together. If he truly loved Vicki in the way he should, he must let her mother rest in peace, and for Vicki’s sake seek peace for his own soul. He must care for his beautiful innocent daughter like other people did. She was dependent on him. Ince loved her as if she was his own child. Daisy and Bunty loved her as if they were grandmothers to her, and her real grandmother loved her from afar and had suffered needlessly because of him.
And Laura cared for her. He could say her first name now he had admitted that. She had cared enough to tell him what he was doing to Vicki and Felicity, to point out what he was cruelly denying them. He was shot through with painful guilt when he pictured how Laura had recoiled from him when he’d hurled abuse at her in her own home, he could feel her shock and distress. He had a lot to put right. He must find the strength from somewhere to do it.
With the roar of the ocean pounding in his ears, he didn’t hear a warning bark from Barney and he found his feet in two inches of cold water. He moved backwards quickly then walked on, heading for the lichen-covered, purple and grey rocks at the foot of the cliff. The wind had risen and Spencer had not realised that it was sweeping off the top layers of sand all the way back to the road. He was covered in a film of fine yellow grains. He rubbed a hand down over his face to loosen the stiffness his grief and the cold had made. Barney trotted loyally at his side.
You’ve been useless, Spencer chided himself, weak-willed and spineless, taking out your grief and bad temper on your daughter, friend and two innocent women. You’ve caused them all a lot of pain.
That’s half the battle in life, Natalie’s voice echoed inside his head, realising your faults. The hard part is doing something about them, and only you can do that. She had always been a sensible woman.
I will do something, Spencer promised her memory. The best I can for Vicki in the future, and I’ll apologise to Ince and some day I’ll put things right with the others. He was glad he had come to Polzeath. He should have done it years ago, instead of shutting himself away and brooding on the farm. He sat down on the rocks. He’d stay here for a while, alone with Natalie one last time. Then he’d leave and with the love of those who cared for him he’d stop looking back.
* * *
Laura hadn’t gone to the Sunday morning service so she slipped across the road for evensong. Afterwards she collared Jacka in the porch before he rushed home like the few other worshippers who had turned out on the bitterly cold evening. She was fishing for news of how Andrew and Tressa might be getting on and whether Jacka had realised himself yet that anything romantic was afoot.
‘Andrew must have been keen to work for you today, Jacka. Mike told me he must have slept at the farm last night and forgot to tell him of the arrangement.’
‘Eh?’ Jacka said, scratching his head before putting on his hat. ‘We haven’t seen un today. Tressa’s a bit puzzled. He said t’she last night he’d be over in the morning as usual.’
‘Where on earth is he then?’ A niggle of worry chewed at Laura’s insides. ‘He’d only be at the pub or on the farm. He wouldn’t have suddenly gone back to London without telling me, and besides, his things are still at pub. He took Tressa home in Mike’s car last night, did you see any sign of it on the road?’
‘No,’ Jacka replied, his face suddenly twisting up. He tapped his chest as a spasm of pain caught him there. ‘Strange, isn’t it?’
‘What’s strange?’ Kinsley Farrow, always quick to hone in on problems and worries, asked from behind them, nudging Laura’s arm. ‘Nothing wrong, is there?’
‘It’s unlikely to be anything to worry about, Vicar,’ she answered, but her worry was growing into the first prickling sensations of real fear. What was Andrew playing at? This was so unlike him. ‘It’s just that Andrew Macarthur seems to have disappeared overnight. He was supposed to go to Tregorlan Farm this morning but didn’t turn up and the Penhaligons said he didn’t return to the pub last night.’
‘So no one’s seen him since he took Tressa home after the dance? He’s frightfully keen on her, of course. Do you think she could have told him she’s not interested or something and he’s gone off somewhere to lick his wounds?’
‘What are ’ee talking about? Are you two saying that Andrew’s been after my maid?’ The astonished farmer glared at the red-faced vicar then confronted Laura for an explanation.
‘He hasn’t done anything he shouldn’t have, Jacka,’ she reassured him hastily. ‘He’s fallen in love with Tressa and has been very honourable about it. He’s been working on the farm hoping that she’ll notice him as more than a casual labourer and one day soon will return his feelings.’
‘’Pon my soul!’ Jacka exclaimed, looking as if he needed to sit down. ‘That’s been happening under my very nose and I never realised it!’
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ asked Laura anxiously, taking him by the arm because he looked rather faint.
‘Well, I… I don’t know. Flipping heck – sorry, Vicar.’
‘Perhaps we could think about that a little later,’ Kinsley said seriously. ‘For now we ought to find out where Mr Macarthur has got to. I’ll dive into the vestry and get rid of my vestments then I’ll go to the pub and ask the Penhaligons if he’s come back. Laura, I suggest you ring someone in London and find out if he’s been in touch there.’
‘What shall I do?’ Jacka said, his concern for Andrew’s disappearance resurfacing.
‘You go home and see if he’s there. If he is, then tell him to let us know he’s safe and well,’ Laura said. ‘I’ll ring London from Aunty Daisy’s and talk to her. You never know, Andrew might have said something to her. I’ll come to you in the pub, Vicar.’
Daisy was as concerned as Laura when John Walmesley told them over the telephone from London that Andrew had not been in touch with him or their other partner and that they had agreed to him having indefinite leave in Cornwall ‘until he had sorted something out that was on his mind’. Trying not to feel panicky and dramatise something that probably had a simple explanation, the two women rushed down the hill to the Tremewan Arms.
‘He’s not been back here,’ Pat said, meeting them in the hall. ‘His room’s been left exactly how it was when he got ready for the dance.’
‘So he must still be wearing his suit,’ Laura said, her stomach knotting up with worry. ‘Did he take his overcoat?’
‘No,’ Mike said, holding up the garment in his huge paw. ‘’Tis here.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ Laura murmured, trying to keep a grip on herself. ‘Surely when he left Tressa he would have driven straight back here? He wouldn’t have just gone off somewhere else.’
‘Well, he might have had a reason for going somewhere else,’ Kinsley said. ‘We could get in touch with PC Geach and ring the hospital just in case he’s had an accident. Then all we can do is sit tight and wait until he turns up.’
‘I could ask Mr Beatty if he’s seen him or if Andrew said anything to him, but he’s out at the moment. He didn’t say where he was going. We’ll just have to wait till he gets back,’ Pat said.
‘If we learn nothing from the phone calls, I’m going over to Tregorlan Farm to talk to Tressa,’ Laura said, turning to Daisy and holding her hand for support. ‘She was the last one to see him, apparently. Perhaps she can throw some light on what might have happened.’
* * *
The moment Jacka got home he called Tressa down from her room where she was half-heartedly reading a cowboy book. She was in a bad mood. She had been disappointed when Andrew had failed to turn up this morning, then angry, then she had got moody and retreated back into her own private little world where nothing could disturb her. She had been looking forward to going to the pictures; she had only been twice in her life before. She had got used to Andrew’s company, used to the way he kept looking at her. Having lost the brothers
she’d idolised, it was good to have a friend after all these years. She tossed the book aside and got off her bed. What did her father want? He sounded vexed. Had she done something to upset Andrew and was to be torn off another strip? She had done nothing wrong as far as she could see. She would refuse to trip off to the village tonight and make another apology.
‘What’s up, Dad?’ she said, going into the kitchen. She was concerned at the awful grey colour of his face and went to him in his chair by the fire. Kissing his cheek, she crouched before him. ‘You don’t look well. Are you feeling poorly again?’
‘That’s only the cold air,’ Jacka shrugged off the concern for his health. He included Joan in his next sentence. ‘Have either of ’ee seen Andrew Macarthur since I’ve been t’church?’
‘No,’ Joan answered, pausing over the mug of tea she was pouring out for her brother. ‘Nothing wrong, is there?’
‘Well, seems he didn’t go back to the pub to sleep last night and then he didn’t turn up here this morning. Laura Jennings is worried about un. Did he say anything to you when he dropped you off last night, Tressa?’
‘Like what?’ the girl frowned.
‘Like whether he had plans to spend the night somewhere else.’
‘No. He asked me if I’d like to go to the pictures with him and said he’d tell me tomorrow, meaning today, what films were being shown.’
Jacka clasped Tressa’s hands tightly in his and looked searchingly into her dark eyes. ‘And what did you say t’he?’
Tressa’s heart gave a queer leap. Her father had never looked at her in this way before, coolly serious and somehow accusing. Feeling very embarrassed, she replied, ‘I said I’d like to go, if it was all right with you, of course.’
‘Well, it isn’t!’ Jacka growled, tightening the grip on her hands so she couldn’t wriggle free. ‘I reckon I know where he’s gone. After some tart somewhere to get what he can’t from a decent girl. Men like he who live in the big cities and’ve got fancy jobs are always up to that sort of thing.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Has he ever tried to touch you or kiss you?’
‘No! Not ever,’ Tressa raised her voice and managed to wrench her hands away. She beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the room. ‘What a horrible thing to say about someone who’s been so kind and helpful to us. Andrew’s not like that. He’s a decent man, I know it!’
‘How could you know anything about men?’ Jacka scoffed, getting angry. ‘You’re either working or got your head stuck in a bleddy book! I can see what he’s up to now. He’s out to seduce you. That’s what all his help was for. To get inside your drawers!’
‘Jacka!’ Joan cried.
‘You’re disgusting, Dad,’ Tressa shouted, hurling her arms about in the air. ‘I may not know much about men but I know the difference between one like Harry Lean and Andrew!’ Bursting into tears, she ran from the room, the first time she had done so in her life.
A short time later she was called down from her room again and had to relate her last few words with Andrew to an extremely anxious Laura who had arrived with Daisy, Mike and Kinsley Farrow.
‘So as far as you can see there was no reason why Andrew wouldn’t have gone back to the pub?’ Laura repeated again, trying to get the facts as clear as possible in her mind.
‘No, I’ve told you. I’m sure he intended on going straight there,’ Tressa said tetchily, giving her father an unfriendly glance as her own worry for Andrew rose.
‘And he was in a good frame of mind?’ Kinsley asked.
Laura sighed impatiently. As Tressa had agreed to go out with him, he must have been deliriously happy. She sensed the friction between Tressa and Jacka. If it had anything to do with Andrew, she wanted to know. ‘Is everything all right here?’ she asked.
‘Just my old trouble, a spot of indigestion,’ Jacka explained.
‘’Tis about time you saw the doctor about that,’ Mike said, recalling the many times he had seen Jacka massaging his chest in the pub.
‘It would help if I didn’t have so much worry,’ Jacka said under his breath, but everyone heard it. Tressa tossed her head impatiently; all except she and Joan thought he was referring to his financial worries.
‘Why don’t you call down to the surgery on Wednesday?’ Daisy said, smiling to lift the mantle of gloom that had settled in the room. ‘Just to be on the safe side. Well, we’d better get back, leave you to the rest of the evening.’
‘You’ll let us know if he turns up?’ Joan said as the visitors shuffled towards the door. ‘Just to stop us worrying.’
‘Aye, we’d like to know that,’ Jacka said, his face grim.
In the last of the lantern light before the door was closed on them, Laura shot Kinsley a hostile look and he turned his head away guiltily. Thanks to him blabbing about Andrew’s feelings about Tressa, Jacka’s attitude towards Andrew had changed. He probably thought that only a local man was suitable as a husband for Tressa. Wherever Andrew was, if the girl of his dreams returned his love, he now had another hurdle to breach.
Laura couldn’t bring herself to go to bed and after assuring the others that she’d be all right on her own, she sat by the fire. At midnight there was a knock on Little Cot’s door. She rushed to open it. Andrew?’ She was disturbed to see two burly men in dark overcoats standing there. ‘Have… have you come about Andrew Macarthur?’
‘That’s right, Mrs Jennings,’ one of the men said. ‘Can we come in?’
She stepped back. ‘Yes, of course.’ With her heart thumping in fear, she asked timidly, ‘Are you from the police?’
‘No,’ the man who had spoken before replied. He stretched out a thick hand marbled with prominent veins on which the word HATE was tattooed in capital letters.
Laura was about to shake his hand but snatched hers back. She regretted allowing these two men into her home. There was something terribly wrong here.
Her heart sank and she began to tremble when she heard the words, ‘I’m Vic Morrison and my friend and I are here on behalf of myself and my brother Archie.’
‘What have you done with Andrew?’ Laura squeaked. She was terrified. Even before Andrew had mentioned the Morrison brothers in connection with Bill, she’d known they were vicious criminals, both having been in prison more than once.
‘I’m glad you’re quick on the uptake, Mrs Jennings. He’ll be quite safe as long as we can successfully complete a little bit of business with you.’ Vic Morrison took off his hat and revealed an almost bald head. His nose was crooked, having been broken in two places, and a dark stubble adorned his wide jaw. Although the other man had been introduced as a friend, he shared similar features. They both looked hard, determined and deadly serious. Their broad shoulders were held back, their fists curled into balls. The coats on their backs were expensive cashmere, their shoes snakeskin, and the cigarette lighter Vic Morrison took out of an inside pocket was solid gold.
‘I-I’ll do anything you say, just don’t hurt Andrew,’ Laura gasped, her eyes filling with tears.
The other man took her arm and led her to a chair at the table. Vic Morrison slowly lit a cigarette then bent forward and put his brutal face a breath away from hers. He reeked of an intoxicating aftershave. ‘I’ll tell you why we’re here and put you out of your misery. Your late hubby owes us some money. Five thousand notes, to be exact.’
‘B-but my solicitors looked into your claim and they said he didn’t owe you that sum of money.’
Vic Morrison put a heavy hand on her shoulder, making Laura cringe away from him. ‘It had nothing to do with his dealings with your father’s company, this was borrowed as a personal loan. He liked to try his hand at the dogs. Now Billy-boy promised us he would pay back every penny. That’s why we’re here, Mrs Jennings. We’ve come to collect it off you.’
Laura couldn’t think straight. She was nearly out of her mind with fear. ‘B-but Bill bankrupted the company. I’ve only got a little money in the bank. You can have that. Take anything you want but please don’t hurt
Andrew and let him go.’
‘You’ve got more than that.’ Vic Morrison put his hand over her chin and squeezed tightly, making her lips purse. He blew smoke into her eyes. ‘You’ve got this cottage. It’s all done up nice and modern. The sale should bring in two or three thousand, then you’ll just have to come up with the rest somehow. You see, we have a policy of collecting every penny we’re owed.’
‘I-I haven’t got that sort of money,’ she wailed. ‘What will you do with Andrew?’ Vic Morrison took his hand away and drew a line across his throat and gave a horrible laugh. He brought the hand back to clutch Laura’s throat but she grabbed at it. She had remembered something that could be Andrew’s salvation. ‘Wait! I have some jewellery. It was my grandmother’s. I know it’s worth a lot of money, over five thousand pounds, my father told me that years ago. It must be worth a lot more now. You can have it, all of it. It’s kept in a bank vault in London. I have the code word needed for access to it. I’ll phone Andrew’s partner and authorise him to collect it and hand it over to your brother. Now please will you let Andrew go?’
‘That’s better,’ Vic Morrison said in a sugary-sweet voice, patting her cheek and making her blink and his friend guffaw like an idiot. ‘You can write me out a nice little official document saying you’re willingly handing over the full value of the jewellery as repayment of your husband’s loan. We don’t want any trouble with the cops now, do we? Accusing us of making you do something under threat, if you get my meaning.’
Laura wrote the letter on Bill’s headed stationery. Her hands were shaking and it took three attempts before Vic Morrison was satisfied. After she’d addressed the envelope to the Morrisons’ legal representatives, he sealed it and made Laura jump out of her skin by tapping it on her shoulder. ‘Thank you for a nice little piece of business, Mrs Jennings. Do you know, looking at you makes me wonder why old Billy-boy ever played away.’ He signalled to his crony and they made for the door.
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