In the silence that followed, each member of Jimmy’s family digested the glowing report and then reflected on the feckless young lad he had once been. Edith shook her head, bewildered: how was it ‘her bairn’, as she still thought of him, had had the courage to perform such heroic deeds? Lacey felt her heart swell with pride for the lad who had once endangered himself to protect her honour, and Matt silently acknowledged that his useless little brother wasn’t so useless after all. Joshua recalled the times he had badgered the boy for his dislike of farming. Now, he wiped tears from his eyes, and choking on his words said, ‘He never mentioned nowt about that.’
‘He didn’t even mention it when I asked him what it was like in France,’ said Lacey, lifting Richard up on her knee and hugging him tight as she marvelled at her brother’s bravery.
Matt set the paper on the table so that they could read the article for themselves. ‘Our Jimmy, a hero,’ he said, his tone filled with awe. ‘He kept that one quiet.’
‘He never wa’ boastful,’ said Edith, her face pink with pride, her tone loving, ‘but I never thought he wa’ brave enough to do summat like that.’
Lacey chuckled. ‘He’d do it without even thinking of the consequences. That’s our Jimmy all over.’
‘What’s our Jimmy all over? What have I done wrong now?’ Jimmy ambled into the kitchen, just in time to hear Lacey’s last remark.
‘It’s what you did right, lad, that we’re talking about.’ Joshua stood and stuck out his hand for Jimmy to shake. ‘I’ve never been prouder in all me life.’
Ignoring Joshua’s outstretched hand, Jimmy asked, ‘What are you on about?’
‘This. In t’paper.’ Matt shoved the Chronicle at Jimmy. ‘Why din’t you tell us you wa’ a hero?’
Jimmy skimmed the article, a gamut of expressions flitting across his face. Finally, he grinned. ‘I’m no bloody hero. I just did what I could. It’s what you do out there. You looked out for one another. They’d a done t’same for me.’ He tossed the paper onto the table, his eyes darkening as memories flooded back, a poignant smile curving his lips.
The smile stretched into a wide grin. ‘When t’commanding officer told me they were givin’ me a medal, I thought he were kidding. Then a bit after, they had a ceremony and pinned it on me uniform.’
‘Where is it now?’ cried Lacey.
‘Upstairs wi’ me other stuff.’
Matt gave Jimmy a gentle shove. ‘Go an’ get it, you daft ha’porth; let’s see it.’
Jimmy returned with a small leather box in his hand. ‘I wasn’t only one as got one,’ he said self-effacingly, and handed the medal to Edith. ‘Here Mam, you have it. You deserve it for puttin’ up wi’ me when I wa’ a young ‘un.’
Edith clasped the medal to her lips, then passed it to Joshua who handed it to Lacey who gave it to Matt, each of them marvelling at the silver disc suspended from a bar threaded with a red, white and blue ribbon.
Tears streamed down Edith’s cheeks. ‘Eeh, lad, you’ll never know how proud I am; words fail me.’
‘That’ll be a first then,’ said Jimmy, his cheeky remark making everyone laugh, and easing the solemnity of the moment. He picked up the paper and scanned the report again. ‘Last time me name wa’ in t’Chronicle nobody wa’ happy,’ he said, recalling the report of the mill robbery.
‘That’s all in the past, luv,’ Edith said, ‘forgiven an’ forgotten like this rotten war should be. From now on we’ll not look back. We’ll look forward to a better future… for all of us.’ She smiled fondly at Lacey. ‘You an’ all, luv; it’ll not be long now before Nathan’s home.’
Lacey walked back to Towngate feeling happier than she had for some time. Her elation stayed with her throughout the evening and she went to bed feeling contented for the first time in ages.
*
It was past midnight, Towngate devoid of all human activity save for that of two women, a young one who dithered nervously as she scuttled in the shadows behind an older woman whose steps were determined and whose eyes glinted with demonic zeal.
At the entrance to the alleyway leading to the rear of Lacey’s Modistes the older woman signalled a halt. She glanced left, then right and, sure of being unobserved, dodged into the dark passage, dragging the younger woman in behind her.
‘Mama, this is madness!’ The young woman’s quivering whisper betrayed extreme consternation.
Alice clamped a hand to Violet’s mouth. ‘Shut up, you little fool,’ she hissed, ‘Nathan’s coming home and if he is to be ours you must do as I say. Now stop your whimpering and keep an eye out for anyone approaching. It’s not likely at this hour, but should I be disturbed you must alert me at once.’
Wild eyed, Violet struggled to free herself. ‘Mama, I beg you, please don’t do this. I promise to find another man to marry; one just as wealthy as Nathan.’
‘I want none other than Nathan Brearley for you,’ snarled Alice, tightening her grip. ‘Once this night is over, you will have what should have rightly been yours in the first place. I’m doing it for you. Don’t I always put your needs before my own?’ She scurried down the passage. Violet, paralysed, listened to Alice’s fading footsteps.
The small pane of glass broke easily, the sound muffled by the wad of cloth Alice placed against it before striking a sharp blow with a hammer. She stowed the hammer in her capacious cloak pocket; it clinked against the small bottle already there. The cloth wrapped round her hand, Alice cautiously reached for the key Lacey had left in the lock.
At the top of the staircase Alice paused, unsure where Lacey slept. Judging it to be in the room overlooking the street she took the bottle from her pocket and sprinkled its contents on the cloth still in her hand.
Lacey smelt the sweet, cloying odour before she felt the fingers clawing at her neck. Instinctively, she rolled away. Something damp slapped against the bare flesh above the neck of her nightdress. Dizzied by the fumes, she struggled to free herself from the iron grip on her shoulder. With one tremendous surge she threw herself out of the far side of the bed, wincing as a clump of her hair stayed in the frantic, restraining hand.
On her feet, Lacey woozily faced her assailant. Alice glared back, her eyes wild and her breathing laboured. For several seconds they stared at one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. The chloroform’s vapour dissipating, Lacey’s head cleared, her mind sharpening. She fixed her eyes on the door. Deliberately.
Down in the passage Violet trembled at the sound of heavy footsteps tromping along Towngate. Incapable of suppressing the urge, she stepped out into the street, almost colliding with Constable Jack Eastwood, patrolling his patch on night duty.
Up in the bedroom, Alice anticipated Lacey’s next move. She darted to the door, utterly confounded when Lacey scrambled across the bed and dashed to the window. Throwing it wide open, Lacey yelled at the top of her lungs.
*
After that, it was all a blur.
Lacey tottered downstairs to find Alice struggling with Jack Eastwood, Alice screeching maniacally as she tried to break his grip and attack Lacey again. Violet cowered in the corner by the door, sobbing and blabbering apologies. Joan and Alfie, alerted by the racket, burst in from next door, Alfie’s urgent telephone call bringing two burly policemen and the Black Maria. As Jack and his two colleagues led Alice and Violet out, Alice’s eyes met Lacey’s. ‘Whore,’ she shrieked.
Lacey thought she would never forget Alice’s crazed glare.
Joan made a pot of tea, and for hers and Alfie’s benefit, Lacey shakily went over the terrifying events from the moment she realised Alice was in her bedroom to Jack Eastwood’s intervention and Joan and Alfie’s arrival. ‘The evil bitch.’ Joan exclaimed, ‘she needs locking up.’
They talked into the small hours, Alfie eventually leaving with Richard in his arms. ‘I’ll put him in with James for the rest of the night,’ he said to Lacey and to Joan he said, ‘You stay and keep an eye on her.’
Lacey had thought she wo
uld never sleep again. Now, she awoke to find herself in the parlour, slumped in the same chair she had fallen into shortly after the Black Maria had taken Alice and Violet away. It was daylight, shafts of bright sun were lancing through the gaps in the curtains. Her body ached and inside her head she could still hear the shrilling police whistle, the thudding feet and the shrieks and yells that had followed her own screams.
It was like waking from a nightmare.
Her fingers strayed to the wheals on her neck put there by Alice’s clawing hand. They were real enough, and although she had earlier rinsed her face she could still smell the cloying sweetness of chloroform that clung to the neck of her nightdress.
In the opposite chair, Joan stirred. ‘You’re awake then?’ she said.
Lacey yawned and sat upright. ‘I need a bath,’ she said, but when she stood her legs buckled under her. Joan leapt up and caught her. Taking strength from her cousin’s warm embrace Lacey said. ‘Thank God that’s over and done with. Wasn’t Jack Eastwood absolutely wonderful? He probably saved my life.’
‘Aye, so you keep saying. You told him that a dozen times last night.’
*
About an hour later, Lacey walked wearily to Fenay Hall. She had to let them know what had happened before anyone else did. A dank fog hung over the mansion, drops of moisture dripping from the bare branches of the trees onto Lacey’s head as she trudged up the drive. It seemed to Lacey like the perfect setting for what she was about to tell her in-laws.
Soames answered the door, surprised to see Lacey at such an early hour. ‘They’re just sitting down to breakfast,’ he said.
This will spoil their appetites, Lacey thought, as she entered the breakfast room. Two anxious faces met hers as she sat down – had she come with bad news about Nathan? On learning she had not, anxiety changed to anger as she told them what Alice had done.
‘That appalling bloody woman,’ growled Jonas, ‘I hope they lock her up and throw away the key.’ He rang for Soames, asking him to summon Felicity and John Hinchcliffe. ‘Felicity needs to hear this from us,’ he said, ‘and we need John to set the wheels of the law in motion.’
John arrived almost immediately and Felicity a short while after, her curiosity at being summoned at such an early hour having sent her into a complete tizz. ‘Is it Nathan?’ she asked, her eyes wide with fear. Assured that it wasn’t, she listened and was shocked to the core as Lacey repeated the gory details yet again. ‘I always thought she was a barmy old bat,’ she said, ‘but I never for a moment thought she’d commit murder.’
Constance fanned her face in an attempt to dispel the nausea that had plagued her from the moment she first heard the news. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she moaned, ‘that a member of my family would stoop to such a vile crime.’
Jonas harrumphed. ‘Alice is deranged. I’ve been saying so for years. Now do you believe me?’
Lacey patted Constance’s arm. ‘Don’t feel guilty, Mother Brearley. You’re not to blame for Alice’s madness,’ she declared stoutly. ‘It was just lucky for me Jack Eastwood came along when he did.’ She let out a deep sigh. ‘God knows what might have happened if he hadn’t. I’d have probably ended up strangling the old bitch.’ She essayed a shaky laugh, the events of the previous night still raw. Felicity laughed out loud at the idea and said, ‘If I’d been there I’d have helped you.’
‘It’s no laughing matter, Felicity,’ Constance said disapprovingly.
‘Indeed it isn’t,’ John Hinchcliffe said, ‘but it’s over now, Lacey. There’ll be no more trouble from Mrs Burrows.’ He smiled encouragingly into Lacey’s wan face. ‘She’ll most likely be incarcerated in the asylum at Storthes Hall and held there until her mental state is fully assessed. Then she’ll stand trial. So, there you have it.’
‘Poor Alice.’ Lacey’s concern was genuine.
‘Poor Violet,’ echoed Felicity, ‘she’ll feel responsible for this for the rest of her life. It was bad enough her mother using her to snare a rich husband, but now she’s doomed to spinsterhood; any decent man will run a mile once he hears of Alice’s exploits.’
‘Perhaps we should extend the hand of friendship to poor Violet,’ said Constance, hesitantly, ‘she’ll need some support after all this.’
Jonas gave her a warning glare. ‘It’s over and done with. Leave it at that.’
At her own insistence, Lacey walked back to the house in Towngate alone wondering why she didn’t feel more elated.
35
They say hope springs eternal; and so it does.
A chill March wind was blustering its way along Towngate as Lacey ushered one of her most prestigious clients out of the dress shop to the car waiting at the kerb. Idly, she watched it drive off, and was fishing for the keys in her pocket to lock up for lunch when a scruffy young lad hurtled across the street, coming to a breathless standstill in front of her.
‘Are you Mrs Lacey Brearley?’ he gasped. Lacey confirming she was, the lad gabbled, ‘you’ve to go to Cuckoo Hill at two o’clock. You’ve to meet him there.’
Lacey stared. ‘Meet who?’
‘The fellow what told me to tell you to meet him at Cuckoo Hill at two o’clock. He said you’d give me a couple o’ bob if I delivered the message.’
‘Did he now?’ Lacey’s mind whirled. Why Cuckoo Hill? And who would presume she’d pay for the privilege of meeting him there? A flame of hope sparked inside her only to be quenched instantly by doubt.
‘Where did you meet this man, an’ what did he look like?’ Lacey’s anxiety was such that the lad jumped back.
‘In Townend. He wa’ tall an’ thin an’ he must have a bad leg, ‘cos he wa’ limpin’.’
Exasperated, Lacey begged, ‘I mean his face. What did he look like?’
The lad shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. He had this big, long coat on wi’ t’collar turned up. I din’t get a good look at him. Are you goin’ to give me a couple o’ bob or what?’ he asked impatiently.
Lacey crossed to the cashbox and withdrew a florin. ‘I hope this isn’t some sort of trick on your part, ‘cos if it is I’ll set the bobby on you.’
‘Honest missis, it’s true. I’d not make summat like that up.’ Clutching the money, he turned tail and ran.
‘No, I don’t imagine you would,’ Lacey said to the shop door.
She hurried through to the workroom, and taking Joan to one side whispered the details of the strange incident. ‘It must be Nathan. Who else could it be?’ Joan insisted. ‘Who else knows Cuckoo Hill is your special place?’
Bemused, Lacey shook her head. ‘But why wouldn’t he come straight here? Why make a mystery of it? It’s not the sort of thing Nathan would do.’
Joan looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe you’re right. It could be a trick.’ Her eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and excitement she said, ‘Perhaps it’s somebody who wants to get you up there on your own so they can demand money. Maybe they’re plannin’ to kidnap you till we pay up.’
Lacey laughed outright. ‘Joan Micklethwaite, I mean Haigh,’ she exclaimed, correcting herself to give Joan her married title, ‘you are the most ridiculous fantasist I’ve ever come across. You read too many tuppenny novels. Kidnap indeed!’
‘Well then, if you don’t believe that you must believe it’s Nathan. So what are you waiting for? Go an’ meet him.’
Lacey dashed through to the house. ‘Susan, dress Richard in a warm coat and leggings; we’re going out.’
Wearing a warm, dark blue coat with a fur collar and a little fur hat, Lacey took the pushchair from under the stairs and wheeled it to the door. ‘Come on, darling; climb in. We have someone to meet.’
Richard jutted out his bottom lip and shook his head. He strongly objected to this mode of transport, but Lacey knew his legs would tire long before they reached Cuckoo Hill. She wondered if she should leave him with Susan, but somehow it didn’t seem right. Nathan would want to see his son.
Then why didn’t he come straight home, she asked herself for the
umpteenth time, strapping a recalcitrant Richard into the pushchair.
Lacey ignored his pleas and hurried to find Joan. ‘If I’m not back in an hour send out a search party.’ Joan grinned.
Lacey collected the now squawking Richard and, the wind whipping at her heels, she hurried along Towngate pushing the chair with one hand and holding on to her hat with the other. Why did it have to be so blustery today of all days?
The pushchair wheels skimming the pavement, Richard soon forgot to protest, the speed at which he was travelling making him laugh. On the edge of the town, away from the narrow streets that channelled the gusting wind, there was a sudden lull. Lacey slowed her pace and began the ascent to Cuckoo Hill. Unbidden, Joan’s ridiculous scenario planted itself in Lacey’s mind.
What if it was a ploy to harm her? All at once the memory of Alice’s attack surged back. For one fleeting moment Lacey recalled the slimy Frederick Lynch and wondered if he was waiting for her at the top of the hill. She shook her head impatiently. You daft ha’porth, she told herself, you’re as bad as Joan.
*
Sheltered in the lee of the cairn on Cuckoo Hill, Nathan Brearley gazed across the moor, watching the hypnotic sway of drifting heather. It looked like a vast ocean rippling towards the horizon, the rocky escarpments of millstone grit little islands washed by a verdant tide. He tugged the collar of his greatcoat up round his ears as he limped to the other side of the cairn, his eyes smarting in the bracing wind.
Nathan had chosen this place and this time because it was here, at two o’clock one summer’s day, that his most beautiful memories had taken root. In the long, dark, fearful night hours in the trenches and then in a hard, narrow bunk in a prison camp hut he had often traced the course of his life, his reminiscences taking the same route each night, the starting point of his journey Cuckoo Hill. It was here Lacey had stolen his heart. This is where it will begin again, Nathan told himself stepping forward to watch Lacey’s approach.
The Girl from the Mill Page 31