The Journey

The little man had never been afraid of anything, but losing Lucy filled him with terror. For the past twenty years and more, he had seen life through her eyes, laughed with her, cried with her, and through it all, he had loved her from afar.

The ironic thing was, in the same way that he had loved her, Lucy had loved Barney. Yet Adam consoled himself with the belief that she had a different, special kind of love for him. It was that which kept him close to her, and always would.

‘I hope so.’ Mary’s thoughts were on a par with his. She felt sick to her stomach. ‘She’s fought with poor Dr Nolan before and sent him packing,’ she reminded him, crying even as she joked. ‘But this time, he’s as worried about her as we are.’

Each wondering what the outcome of this night would be, they continued down the stairs in silence.

They were still silent and sombre as they came into the drawing room. ‘How is she?’ Ben had not known Lucy long, but already she had won a place in his heart.

‘We’ll know soon enough,’ Mary said quietly. She lingered at the door, her eyes searching the upper levels. Dear God, let her be all right, she prayed. Don’t take her from me yet. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had always known there would come a day when she would lose the light of her life. But not yet, dear Lord. Not for many a year to come.

The waiting seemed to go on forever, until at last the doctor walked briskly into the room. ‘She’s sleeping now,’ he told them all. ‘I’ve given her a sedative.’ His long thin face broke into a weary smile. ‘She’s hard work,’ he said, ‘but I got the better of her in the end.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Mary cared nothing for his smile.

The smile fading, he took a moment to consider his answer. ‘I can’t be sure … I’d like to take a blood sample and have some tests done in the hospital labs.’

‘What sort of tests?’

‘Well,’ he answered cautiously, ‘she’s unusually tired, and complaining of breathlessness: this could point to anaemia. She seems to have little strength.’ The smile crept back again. ‘Though she did manage to fight me off once or twice.’

Knowing how all three of them were hanging on his every word, he continued on a more serious note, ‘I’m a little concerned about her heart and blood pressure, but I can’t be sure about anything until we do those tests. For that I’ll need her to come into hospital overnight.’

At the mention of hospital, Adam turned pale. ‘But she will be all right, won’t she?’

Careful how he answered, Dr Nolan momentarily lowered his gaze. Lucy Davidson was a legend in this hamlet; despite her reclusive nature, she had made many friends and as far as he knew, no enemies. She was generous, funny, honest and outspoken, and he understood why these good people should be so concerned. However, at the moment, he could only make a guess at her underlying condition. She was ill, though. There was no denying that.

‘Had she not worked herself into a state, I would have admitted her to hospital tonight,’ he said. ‘As it is, and because she’s calmer now, there’ll be nothing lost if we leave her till morning. She needs plenty of rest. Let her sleep, that’s the best medicine for now. I’ll be back first thing.’

‘But will she be all right?’ Like Adam, Mary was desperately seeking reassurance.

‘We can only wait and see.’ He chose his words wisely. ‘I would rather not speculate, though I won’t deny that your mother is ill,’ he said kindly. ‘She’s very weak and, as you saw for yourself, her breathing was laboured.’

Before they could question him further, he put up a staying hand. ‘Once we get her into hospital, we’ll know more.’

As he left, he said, ‘You may look in on her, of course … I would want you to do that. But she must not be disturbed. Rest is the best thing for her just now.’

With the doctor gone, the mood was solemn. Ben felt as though he was intruding, but when he suggested leaving, Mary persuaded him to stay awhile. ‘I’ll go and check on Mother. Adam can put the kettle on, if he doesn’t mind?’ The little man nodded his agreement and set off for the kitchen. Mary then turned to address Ben. ‘We can all keep each other company for a while, unless you really want to leave?’

She thought of how he had come here to Knudsden House in good faith, to return her mother’s bag, and had been quizzed relentlessly about his personal life; on top of that he had been made to think he was duty bound to ask her out one evening. Any other man would have been long gone, but she truly hoped he would stay; his presence gave her so much comfort.

‘I’ll stay as long as you like.’ Ben did not hesitate. ‘There’s nothing urgent waiting at home.’ He had only offered to leave out of consideration, and was delighted that she felt need of him.

‘I won’t be long.’ While Ben went to join Adam in the kitchen, Mary ran upstairs and crept into her mother’s bedroom. She gazed down on Lucy’s sleeping face. In the gentle light from the bedside lamp, her mother looked so much younger; her skin was clear and smooth as alabaster, and her lashes lay like spiders’ legs over the slight curve of her cheeks. Her long hair was loose about her shoulders and her wide, pretty mouth was ever so slightly turned up at the corners as in a half-smile.

Reaching down, Mary laid her own hand over that of her mother. She could feel the warm softness of her skin, and beneath the tip of her fingers, the blood running through Lucy’s veins. Holding hands was not something she and her mother did all that often, so she felt privileged, and oddly humbled.

Choking back the emotion, she slid her mother’s hand beneath the sheets and covered it over. She then stroked her fingers through the long greying strands of hair where they lay nestled on the pillow like silken threads; so soft in her fingers.

She gazed long on Lucy’s face, her eyes following every feature, every shadow and shape, and all the while she wondered about her mother, and about her father. What had transpired before she was born? What was the secret that she had always known existed? And why had she never been told of her parents’ true past?

Her heart turning with emotion and the questions burning bright in her mind, she kissed the sleeping woman and made her way back downstairs to the men. Adam had brewed the tea and was busy pouring it out. ‘She’s sleeping well,’ Mary told them, gratefully accepting the cup that was handed to her. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so peaceful.’

‘Thank God for that.’ Adam knew what a restless soul Lucy was, and unlike Mary he knew the reason why. ‘It will do her the world of good to sleep through the night.’ His voice fell until it was almost inaudible. ‘If she’s in a deep sleep, maybe she won’t be plagued by the bad dreams.’

‘What bad dreams?’ Mary had heard his quiet words and they bothered her. ‘Mother never told me about any dreams.’

Silently cursing himself, the little man tried to dismiss his remark. ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ he lied. ‘I recall how she once told me she’d had a bad dream, that’s all.’

Mary wasn’t satisfied. ‘You said she was plagued. That doesn’t sound like one bad dream to me.’ She knew Adam had known her parents long before she was born, and now she realised he was part of the secret she had never been privileged to share. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’

Sensing something too deep for his understanding, Ben wisely changed the subject. ‘The fire’s almost out. Shall I put more logs on?’

Relieved that the moment was broken, Adam turned to him. ‘I think it might be a good idea,’ he said, and to Mary, ‘if that’s all right with you?’

Having believed that she was on the verge of a long-awaited peep into the past, Mary now felt cheated. ‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘best keep the fire alive. I for one won’t be going to bed tonight.’

Adam was horrified. ‘You must get your sleep,’ he told her. ‘I’ll stay here and keep a check on your mother. I promise to wake you if needs be.’

Mary looked at Ben. A man of few words, he had such quiet strength. ‘Will you stay?’

He smiled on her, a slow, easy smile that filled her heart and made her feel safe. ‘Of course. Adam’s right, though. Your mother will need you to be bright and alert tomorrow. You’ll sleep better in your bed.’

Mary would not hear of it. ‘I’m staying here with you two. Three pairs of ears are better than one, and we can take it in turns to check in on her. Look – there are two big sofas and a deep armchair. We can all snatch a moment’s sleep when we grow tired.’

She smiled from one to the other. ‘Meanwhile, we’ll drink our tea and talk.’ She paused. ‘The time will soon pass.’

While Ben and Mary sipped their tea and chatted about things other than the one which pressed on their minds, Adam became increasingly agitated. By referring to Lucy’s nightmares, he had almost betrayed his long-held loyalty to her. ‘Mary must never know … promise me you won’t ever tell.’ That had been Lucy’s request to him, and though he had done everything possible for the woman he cherished, he had managed to avoid making an actual promise not to tell.

Somewhere deep in his soul, he truly believed that one day, Mary would have to know the truth of what had happened; not least because she herself was part of that fascinating, devastating story, for without it, she would never have been born.

Discreetly watching him, Mary saw how Adam was pacing the floor, faster and faster, until it seemed he would go crazy. She saw the panic in his face and the way he was rolling his fists together, much like her own mother did when anxious. And she knew, without a shadow of doubt, that old secrets were tearing Adam and her mother apart.

While she watched him, Ben was watching her. And just as she had seen the anguish and pain in Adam’s eyes, he saw the very same in hers. Without a word he took her hand in his and, when she swung her gaze to him, he stroked her face, fleetingly. ‘Your mother will be fine,’ he whispered. ‘You have to believe that.’

Mary acknowledged him with an unsure nod of the head. She wanted him to hold her, and kiss her, and be the safe haven she craved; for in that moment she had never felt so alone in the whole of her life.

Suddenly, Adam was standing before them. ‘I thought I heard a noise – I’m sure it came from upstairs. Please, lass … will you check on your mother again? See if she’s all right?’

Mary didn’t need asking twice. She was on her feet and out of the room before he’d finished speaking. While she was running up the stairs, Ben grew concerned for Adam. Taking the little man by the shoulders, he sat him in the armchair. ‘Here, sit down … before you fall down.’ And when Adam was seated, head low in his hands and his whole body trembling, Ben dashed off to the kitchen and brought him back a glass of water. ‘Drink this … it’ll help calm you.’

By the time Adam had swilled down every last drop of the cool water, Mary had returned. ‘Mother is fast asleep,’ she told them. ‘She hasn’t moved, except to pull down the covers a little.’ Lucy never did like being too warm, even in her sleep.

Adam grabbed her hand. ‘Are you sure she’s all right?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Mary squeezed his hand comfortingly. ‘Like the doctor said … she’s sleeping soundly.’

And then Adam was weeping, quietly at first, until the sobs racked his body, and when he looked up at them he was like a man haunted. ‘I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to your mam,’ he said brokenly. ‘I love her, d’you see? I have loved her for a long, long time … and always will till the day I die, and even after that.’

Mary sat on the edge of the sofa, opposite Adam and next to Ben, but she did not let go of Adam’s hand.

‘Do you think I don’t know how much you love her?’ she asked tenderly. ‘I’ve known it since I was very small. I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I’ve heard you whisper her name … talking to her when you thought she couldn’t hear. But I heard, and I know how much you adore her.’

She had a question. ‘Why did she not love you back in the same way?’

Adam was curiously hurt by her question, though he understood it well enough. ‘She did love me … she still does!’

‘Yes, I know that, but why did she not love you in the same way?’

He smiled painfully at that, a sad, lonely smile that made her feel guilty. ‘We can’t always choose whom we love,’ he answered wisely. ‘I didn’t choose to fall head over heels in love with Lucy, any more than she chose to fall head over heels in love with your daddy.’

He gave a long, rippling sigh. ‘And who could blame her for that? Y’see, Barney Davidson was a very special man. Not because he was handsome or rich, or even because he was exceptional in ways we mere mortals might understand.’ His eyes shone with admiration. ‘No! He was more than that. He was deep, and kind …’ Hesitating, he gave a shrug. ‘Sometimes, words alone can never describe someone.’

‘Please, Adam, will you try to describe him for me? No one ever talks about him.’

Adam was shocked to see the tears running down her face and once again, was tempted to tell her everything. ‘You never knew him, did you, lass – not really?’ he murmured. ‘You were only a wee thing when we lost him. He was my dear, dear friend … the best pal a man could ever have, and I loved him for it.’

Afraid of losing the moment again, Mary persisted. ‘Please, tell me what you know, what you and Mother have always kept from me.’ Her voice broke. ‘I will never rest until I know what happened, and don’t tell me there was nothing untoward in my parents’ lives, because in here …’ she tapped the cradle of her heart ‘… I know there was.’

Deeply moved, he looked into those lovely, tearful eyes. ‘Your mother should never have kept it from you,’ he conceded gruffly. ‘I’ve always known she was wrong about that. I told her you had every right to know, that you were Barney’s child through and through. But she was afraid … always afraid.’

‘Afraid of what?’ Mary gave a sigh of relief. At last she was getting nearer to the truth.

‘I can’t tell.’ He looked from her to Ben. ‘I made a promise. NO!’ He shook his head. ‘I never did make that promise. I thought it would be wrong, d’you see? I told her, “Mary will have to know everything one day” …’ His words trailed away.

‘Adam?’ The girl’s voice penetrated his deeper thoughts. ‘That day is here and now. And you’re right: I have to know, so tell me … please.’

Snatching his hand from her grip, Adam scrambled out of the chair. He paced the floor awhile, then took a moment to stare out of the window at the night, but he said nothing for what seemed an age. Then he walked to the door, opened it and went out, and from the room they could see him standing at the foot of the stairs looking up. His lips were moving, but they could not hear what he was saying.

Mary went to get off the sofa, but Ben reached out and, with a gentle pressure of his hand, held her there. ‘Best to leave him,’ he whispered. ‘Give him time.’ And, knowing Ben was right, she remained still until the little fellow came back into the room.

Upstairs, Lucy thought she heard something. A voice. His voice. Half-asleep, her brain numbed by the sedative, she called out his name. ‘Barney!’ Her voice, and her heart broke, and she could speak no more.

Restless as always, she turned. Forcing open her eyes, and summoning every last ounce of strength, she stretched out her hand, and felt the hard edge of the bedside drawer … Inching it open, she took out a long metal biscuit-box and drew it to her chest, where it lay while she caught her breath and recovered her strength.

A moment later she had opened the lid and dipping her fingers inside, she lifted out a photograph and a long envelope, yellow with age and worn at the corners from where she had opened it many times over the years.

Holding the photograph close to the halo of light from the bedside lamp, Lucy could hardly see it for the tears that stung from her eyes and ran unheeded down her face. ‘Oh Barney, dear Barney!’ The sobbing was velvet-soft. No one heard. No one knew. No one ever knew.

For nearly twenty years, she had kept his face alive in her heart and soul, but now, as her senses swam from the effects of the sedative, when she saw him smiling up at her from the photograph, it was as though he was real: the slight film of moisture on his lips, the pinkness of his tongue, just visible behind those beautiful white teeth, and the eyes, soulfully blue, and so sad beneath the smile; yet the smile, and the eyes, were so alive they twinkled.

It was almost as though Barney was here in the room with her.

The sick woman took a moment to rest, before in a less emotional state, she studied the familiar and much-loved features: the shock of rich brown hair, those mesmerising blue eyes – not lavender-blue like Mary’s, but darkest blue, like the ocean depths. And the mouth, with its full bottom lip. The wonderful smile was a reflection of Barney’s naturally joyful soul; through good times and bad, his smile was like a ray of sunshine.

As he smiled at her now, Lucy could hear him singing; Barney loved to sing when he worked. She could hear him so clearly, his voice lifted in song and carried on the breeze from the fields to her kitchen. He never sang any song in particular. And when he wasn’t singing, he would whistle.

Barney was one of those rare people who, without realising it, could raise your spirits and make you feel good; even at your lowest ebb.

Lucy’s heart grew quiet. Times had come when Barney’s song was not so lilting nor his smile quite so convincing, and there had been other times, though they were few, when she had caught him sobbing his heart out. She knew then, that he was thinking of past events. And with every moment of anguish he suffered, she suffered it with him, and her love grew all the stronger.

Over their short time together, Barney became her very life. He was her and she was him. They were one. Together they would see it through, and nothing would ever tear them apart. But it did. Death claimed him much too soon!

And when she lost him, her own life, too, would have been over but for Mary, and Mary was a part of Barney. She saw him every time Mary smiled or sang, or chided her.

And she loved that dear child with the same all-consuming love that she had felt for Barney. It was Mary who had been her saviour; Mary who was like her daddy in so many ways; Mary who had brought her untold joy.

Adam had long believed that Mary should be told about the events which took place before she was born. But Lucy thought differently. The little girl was an innocent and must be protected, and so she was never told.

But what of the other innocents? Dear God above!

WHAT OF THEM?

Weary now, she dropped her hands and the photograph fell onto the eiderdown. Too weak to raise her head, she felt about until it was safe in her grasp again, and then with slow, trembling fingers, she laid it down beside her.

Unfolding the letter from inside the envelope, she held it up where she could see it in the light from the bedside lamp. She remembered receiving this, one dark damp day in her little cottage up north, and knew that only the truth could put things right. She had read the letter so many times, she knew every word by heart. She whispered them now, the sentences etched in her soul for all time:

To Lucy Baker,

It pains us to put pen to paper, but we must. Word has come to us here that you are now living with our father and have a child by him. Because of what you have done, we feel only hatred towards you. Hatred and disgust! Lucy, you betrayed us! We thought you were our friend, our sister. We all trusted you, especially our mother, but you were a viper in our midst.

The day we left, we vowed we would never be back, and that vow remains strong as ever. We just want you to know what you and our father have done to all of us; and to our mother most of all.

You helped to ruin our lives. You are a wicked, evil woman, and if there is any justice in the world, there will come a day when you will both pay for what you did. We pray with all our hearts for that day to come.

We don’t need to sign our names. You know them already.

We are Thomas, Ronald and Susan Davidson.

We are your conscience.

Lucy shakily folded the letter away. ‘Such hatred!’ she sighed. Her heart ached for those young people … for them and their poor mother, because of all their suffering. But they didn’t know the truth. THEY DIDN’T KNOW! How could they?

Carefully, she replaced Barney’s photograph into the biscuit-box, then the letter into its envelope. ‘What am I to do, love?’ she whispered. ‘You said they must never know, but I feel I must tell them, even if it will be too much for them to bear. It is time to put things right, if God will grant me the time I need.’

Then weariness closed in and the sedative claimed her. But the dreams remained. Awake or asleep, the dreams were never far away.

Adam went over to the fireplace and stood there for a while, his arms reaching up to each side of the mantelpiece, and his head bowed. ‘I’m not sure if it’s my place to tell you,’ he murmured.

Mary felt instinctively that she ought not to speak. If he was wrestling with his conscience, then she must not influence him either way. So she waited, and hoped, and in a while he turned round, looked at them both, and slowly made his way back to them. ‘I think Barney would want you to know,’ he told Mary heavily. ‘I reckon you’re right, lass, the time is here.’ The haunted look had finally left his eyes.

‘So, will you tell me now?’ Her mouth had gone dry; she could barely say the words.

He nodded.

‘And will you tell me everything?’

Mary knew this was it. At long last she was to cross that threshold which, though it had never affected the deep love between herself and Lucy, had always been present between them. Excitement and fear mingled as she sensed the door opening to her, that secret door which had been too long closed, and she had no doubts that something wondrous waited beyond.

‘I don’t know if I’m doing right or wrong, but I believe the truth is long overdue,’ Adam answered. ‘Though I may live to regret it, and Lucy may not thank me for going against her wishes, yes, I’ll tell you everything, sweetheart. I promise I won’t leave anything out.’

Ben hastily prepared to leave. ‘This is private family business,’ he said. ‘I have no right to be here.’

Neither Adam nor Mary would hear of it. ‘Please, Ben, I want you to stay,’ Mary told him, and Adam gave a nod of approval. ‘I believe you should both hear what I have to tell,’ he said.

The little man had a deep-down instinct that these two were made for each other. In the same inevitable way that Barney was woven into Mary’s past, Ben was destined to be part of her future. He had seen her look at Ben in the same way her mother had looked at Barney, and tonight in Ben, he had caught a glimpse of his dear friend. Something told him he was witnessing the start of another deep and special love, and he knew that Ben truly belonged here.

And so he settled in his chair and cast his mind back over the years. Drawing on his memory, he mentally relived the story; of Lucy and Barney, and of course the others who did not, and could not, see the truth of what was happening before their eyes.

But Adam had seen, and it had scarred him forever. Just as it had scarred Lucy, and the others; though to this day, those others had not learned the truth of what happened, and maybe they never would. Maybe the hatred and the pain would always be paramount.

Adam thought that was a sad thing, because the tragedy that had taken place all those years ago had given birth to something glorious.

As the night thickened and the story unfolded, Mary and Ben were in turn shocked and uplifted, and the more they heard, the more they began to realise that their lives would never again be the same.