Journey’s End
On first arriving in Salford, Ben, a former architect knew next to nothing about farming. But thanks to his practical nature, and learning as he went, he now had a comfortable income and a way of life he couldn’t have possibly ever imagined. And he had never been happier.
After the trauma and deceit that caused the end of his marriage to Pauline, he had not wanted another deep relationship. But then he met Lucy’s daughter, Mary, and had soon come to realise that not all women were the same. Where his wife had been dominant and deceitful, Mary was kind and caring; though she did have a fiery side. Last summer while they were strolling across the fields, they saw a man kicking his dog, and before Ben could intervene, Mary had snatched the dog away and confronted the man with a passion.
This incident had only served to convince Ben that he was a fortunate man, because here was a woman he could trust and respect. And he had come to love her so much, it frightened him.
‘BEN!’ Knocking on the window, Adam hoped to catch his attention, but the younger man was already out of earshot. ‘Don’t you two go running off before I’ve had a chance to see him,’ he said to Mary as she hurried from the room, ‘I want to ask the lad if he’ll have a look at the car. There’s nothing I don’t know about tractors, but I’m jiggered if I can fathom out what’s wrong with this blessed car!’
He frowned. ‘It starts then it dies away, coughing and spluttering. Ben knows his way round engines. With a bit of luck, he’ll be able to make more sense out of that damned vehicle than I can.’
‘Hey!’ Lucy’s voice followed them. ‘That’s quite enough of that cursing, if you don’t mind.’
Half-turning, Adam gave another tug of his forelock. ‘Sorry, boss,’ he said nervously. ‘I’ll not do it again.’
Chuckling heartily, Lucy returned to her tea.
A few minutes later, when she started to clear away, a feeling of total exhaustion overwhelmed her. Sudden pains shot down the back of her neck, and her spine felt as though it was being squeezed. This had happened before; thankfully, the attack always passed, though lately the passing seemed to take longer.
Resting a moment to recover, she rolled up her sleeves and was soon up to the elbows in hot sudsy water. It was a hard thing to come to terms with, growing old, and she resented the years rolling away behind her. Life was too short, and love too fleeting.
She thought of Barney wistfully. She would never again hold his hand or experience that wonderful surge of joy as he slid his arm around her when she least expected it. Life could be so cruel. But she had Mary, and so she still had a part of Barney in her life.
Looking out of the window, she saw how content her daughter was. She saw Mary helping Ben off with his jacket, and she witnessed the way they briefly touched and held hands before he leaned into the car engine. They belonged together, Lucy had known that from the first minute she saw them together in St Andrew’s churchyard all those months ago. That was why she had deliberately dropped her handbag there for Ben to find. When returning it to Lucy at her home, Knudsden House, he had met Mary again, and their romance had begun on that long, fateful night. And neither of them had ever suspected her part in it!
Ben reminded Lucy so much of Barney – oh, not in his physique, for Ben was taller and bigger-built than Barney and their colouring was different. But the essence of the man was the same; they each had a certain commanding presence. They smiled with their eyes and had that same kind of trustworthy, open nature.
Lucy’s heart swelled with love as she gazed fondly on her daughter. Mary would never know how thankful she was that the girl had found someone she truly loved, and who loved her back in the same way.
She couldn’t help but compare Mary and her sweetheart, to herself and Barney. She had loved her father in the same way the girl loved her Ben, deeply and without reservation.
She could see it all in her mind’s eye – herself, Barney and Vicky, his true wife, soulmate, and the mother of his three other children. It was a devilish triangle, destined to torment them all, and Barney the unwilling centrepiece of a cruel game that no one could ever win.
She had often wondered what she could have done to save them all so much pain, and the answer was always the same: there was nothing. She could not have prevented what happened, at least not without hurting Barney, and she loved him so much she would gladly have died for him. God help her, she loved him still with every fibre of her being.
Her eyes swam with sadness as she followed Mary’s every move. Oh, I don’t fool myself, she thought, because even though for a glorious time we were together and you, my darling, were conceived out of love, your father was never really mine.
Barney had loved her, in his own way, but it was Vicky of whom he dreamed. Even after he had sent her away, she filled his heart and soul. Lucy had always understood: Barney and Vicky were made for each other, and Lucy could never take the other woman’s place, nor would she want to. Vicky had been his first and only love … just as you were mine, she thought.
Chapter 3
AS LUCY CARRIED on rinsing the pots, dreaming quietly to herself, she heard Mary call out a greeting to someone. Lucy raised her gaze to see a familiar figure approaching up the path. ‘Elsie!’ Lucy was not expecting her so early.
Quickly now, she wiped her arms and rolled down her sleeves, and backing away from the sink, she sat at the table, for all the world as though she had been there all along.
As was her way, Elsie Langton burst in through the door like a wayward wind, her sharp eyes going straight to the sink, half-filled with sudsy water and the few plates resting on the wooden draining-board alongside.
‘What’s all this then?’ she demanded, indignantly folding her arms. ‘You’ve been washing up again, haven’t yer? For heaven’s sakes, can you never do as you’re told and take it easy? What’s more, I’d be obliged if you would stop doing my work. One fine day I’ll come through that door and there you’ll be, waiting with my pay packet and a “cheerio, how’s yer father but I don’t need yer any more”. Then what will I do, eh? Tell me that if yer please!’
Lucy tutted impatiently. ‘Don’t talk so much nonsense, woman.’ Clambering out of her chair, she confronted the little person with a sense of outrage. ‘Anyway, who’s in charge round here, you tell me that.’
As the bantering continued, Mary stood by the door, quietly amused. There was no harm in these fiery exchanges, she knew that. Her mother valued Elsie as part of the family. And as for the little woman herself, she was hardworking, funny and lovable, and totally devoted to Lucy; but when she had a bee in her bonnet she could be a real terrier.
‘Out with it,’ Elsie demanded grimly. ‘What else have yer been up to? Sweeping the yard, taking down the curtains – what?’
With a measure of dignity, Lucy stood her ground. ‘Just listen to yourself. You above all people should know I’m past doing those kind of things. Anyway, what if I had done everything you claim? It’s my right. It’s my house, isn’t it?’
Exasperated, Elsie waggled her fat little head from side to side, which in turn wobbled the fat little shoulders. ‘It’s no use yer arguing with me,’ she retorted. ‘You had strict orders from the doctor … “gentle exercise and the occasional walk, as long as it’s not too far”, isn’t that what the man said?’
Lucy glared at her. ‘Good God, you make me sound like some poor old dog that needs to be put down!’
‘Dearie, dearie me!’ Elsie had a way of making you feel guilty even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. ‘If yer don’t mind me saying, it’s you that’s talking nonsense now. My only concern is that you keep strong and healthy. I don’t want to see you standing at the sink to wash the dishes, or turning the mattress, like you did the other day. And if I hadn’t arrived in time when you were struggling to get the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard under the stairs, like as not you’d have broke a limb. And only yesterday I caught you cleaning out the pantry. God give me strength, you’re always meddling in places where you’ve no right to be. Cleaning, fetching and carrying is what I’m here for.’
When again she shook her head, her chubby little chops shivered with irritation. ‘It’s why yer pay me, for goodness’ sake!’
They both looked up as Mary stepped forward from the doorway. ‘I’ll make us a fresh pot of tea, shall I?’ she suggested tactfully. ‘That’s if nobody has any objections?’ Rona, Elsie’s daughter, worked alongside Mary in her flower-shop in Leighton Buzzard, and the two young women were fast friends. She’d be sure to report the latest exchange to her!
Grateful for the intervention, Lucy gave a warm smile. ‘Thank you, dear, that would be nice.’
But Elsie’s feathers were still ruffled. ‘I’ll have two sugars in mine,’ she snapped, ‘and just a whisper of milk, if yer please. There’s some Garibaldi biscuits in that tin. We’re keeping the homemade ones for Doctor Nolan.’ With that she took off her coat and hat and hung them up. ‘Meanwhile, I’d best make a start on cleaning the winders … before somebody we all know takes a mind to do it herself!’ With that she threw Lucy a withering glance and departed.
Lucy was left chuckling. ‘Anybody would think I interfered with her daily routine.’
Mary turned with a wry little smile. ‘You do.’
‘Well, maybe I do, but I’m frightened that if I stop doing things, I might seize up altogether. Don’t you know how hard it is for me to be still?’
‘I think I know that more than anybody. Don’t forget, I’m the one who has to live with you.’
‘Do you think I should apologise to Elsie? She’s such a treasure.’
‘It wouldn’t do any good if you did.’
‘Why not?’ Lucy had not expected an answer like that.
Coming to the table, Mary set the tray down. ‘Because the pair of you will only be going at it hammer and tongs again tomorrow.’
Taken aback, Lucy stared up at Mary open-mouthed. ‘Are we really that bad?’
‘Worse!’
When the laughter carried outside to the men, they stopped work to look towards the kitchen. ‘Something’s tickled their funny-bones,’ Ben remarked with a grin.
‘Sounds like it,’ Adam agreed; the merry laughter was infectious.
‘That should do it.’ Laying down the spanner, Ben asked Adam to start the car, and when it spluttered into life and seemed to run smoother than before, the older man gave a sigh of relief. ‘Don’t know how to thank you,’ he said, and Ben told him he was only too pleased to have been able to help.
‘I’d best get cleaned up, and take Mary to approve my new tractor.’ Ben smiled at the prospect. ‘After that, we’ve got the whole day to please ourselves what we do.’
Adam saw the gleam in Ben’s eye and his heart warmed. ‘You really love her, don’t you?’
Ben’s answer was instant and sincere. ‘Like I’ve never loved anyone in my life,’ he said. ‘I can’t recall what my life was like before she came along, and now I can’t imagine a day without her.’
Suddenly, Mary was making her way towards them. Upstairs, hanging out of the window with her cloth, Elsie was shouting down to her, ‘What were you two laughing about, eh?’
‘It’s Mum. You know what she’s like.’ Mary was still chuckling. ‘She was saying how she’d best teach you your place, because you’re getting too big for your boots.’
‘Huh! It’s the other way round, more like!’
When, a moment later, Elsie saw the doctor getting out of his car, she dropped her cloth into the bucket, ran to the landing and called down to Lucy, who quickly made her way upstairs, brushed her hair and sat nervously on the edge of the bed, waiting to greet him.
Though deep down she knew it was unfair, Lucy harboured a certain distrust of doctors. It had started when Barney fell ill and they could do nothing to help him. To Lucy’s mind, doctors were all the same – authoritative and full of good advice, but as yet they had not managed to instil any degree of confidence in her. There was one exception and that was Dr Raymond Lucas, from her old home outside Liverpool. He had been a true and trusted friend, and even now Lucy valued his letters and friendship.
Interrupting her thoughts, the knock sounded on the door for the second time. ‘Come in.’ Like a rebellious child, Lucy remained seated.
The door inched open and a smiling face peeped in at her; with his cheeky grin and that ridiculous cap of thick brown hair, the doctor looked far younger than his early thirties. ‘Am I all right to come in?’ he asked gingerly. ‘Or am I likely to get my head chopped off at dawn?’ He knew Lucy well by now, and was aware that his visits were unpopular.
Lucy laughed and the atmosphere eased. ‘I’m not that much of an ogre, am I?’ she asked, shame-facedly.
‘There are those who might argue the point.’ Straightening his shoulders, he pushed open the door and sauntered in.
Lucy asked him pointedly, ‘You’re not about to put me through the grinder, are you?’
He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll do whatever’s necessary to satisfy myself that you haven’t been overdoing it.’ He peeked at her with suspicion. ‘And have you?’
‘What?’
‘Been overdoing it?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Lucy hoped he would leave before coming into contact with Elsie, who was certain to have her say on the matter.
‘Mmm.’ Slowly nodding his head, he made that peculiar sound that some doctors make when they’re not quite sure what to say. ‘Mmm … ah.’
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’
‘I don’t know what to think.’ He ventured forward. ‘And if I don’t believe you, it’s no one’s fault but your own.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean, I need you to be honest, but sometimes you tell me one thing and do another. How am I supposed to know if you’re following my instructions when you won’t tell me the truth?’
‘Huh!’ Lucy couldn’t help but like him. ‘So now I’m a liar, am I?’
Fearing he might have got on the wrong side of her, he suggested meekly, ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, that is not what I meant at all. Perhaps we should forget the conversation so far and start again, what do you think?’
Lucy smiled her sweetest. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’
With a twinkle in his eye, he made the smallest bow and to Lucy’s amusement, greeted her with a bright, ‘Good morning, Mrs Davidson.’
‘Good morning, Doctor Nolan.’ Bright as a button, Lucy’s quick smile betrayed her enjoyment. ‘How very nice to see you,’ she lied beautifully.
Placing the big black bag on the bedside table, Dr Nolan opened it and took out his stethoscope. ‘And how are you today?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Doctor.’ Unbuttoning the top of her blouse, Lucy prepared herself for the shock of the cold stethoscope against her skin.
‘Have you anything to report?’ he asked gently.
‘No, nothing.’ Sensing the game was over she replied in serious tone, ‘Everything is just the same as it was the last time you were here.’ She was determined not to reveal how her arm still hurt like the devil after trying to shift that heavy cleaner out of the cupboard, for which Elsie had rightfully given her a scolding.
‘So, no aches or pains then?’ He proceeded to examine her, discreetly ignoring Lucy’s visible shudder as the cold receptacle pressed against the flat of her chest.
Lucy shook her head. ‘No more than usual,’ she answered. ‘There are times when my joints feel as though they’ve locked together, and other times when I feel I can carry the world.’
‘No change there then?’ he said, concentrating now on the job in hand of checking her blood pressure.
‘Not really, no.’ She laughed out loud. ‘I was flattered this morning when Elsie accused me of being ambitious enough to take down curtains, and clean all the windows.’ She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Those days are long gone, more’s the pity.’
Lucy remembered the time when she could throw a pitchfork of hay on top of a wagon, or carry an injured lamb on her shoulders, but that was in another life. If she could bring it all back, she would. But it was gone, all but in her sorry heart.
A few moments later, after a thorough examination, the doctor put away his instruments and closed the bag. ‘It seems you’re no better and no worse, so you must be following my instructions after all.’
Lucy smiled triumphantly. ‘Isn’t that what I told you, Doctor?’
‘So it is,’ he replied. ‘So it is – but you need to remember you’re not the young woman you once were and your joints aren’t quite so flexible. I’m not saying you can’t do certain things – of course you can – but you must take care not to aggravate your condition. And that includes getting all hot and bothered about things.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Good.’ He wrote out a prescription. ‘Your blood pressure is slightly up. Take one of these each morning, and an hour’s rest in the afternoon. Right?’
‘Whatever you say. You’re the doctor.’
‘I’ll call again in a few days to check your blood pressure, just to be sure.’
Glad that the examination was over, Lucy relaxed. ‘Are you ready for tea and biscuits?’
‘Need you ask?’ It had become a ritual; a bit of a banter, then the examination, before tea and biscuits. He had come to look forward to it. ‘That’s the main reason I come to visit,’ the young man teased. He picked up his black bag. ‘A few quiet moments in that delightful kitchen of yours sets me up for the day.’
Inching herself off the bed, Lucy slipped her shoes on. ‘You haven’t forgotten how I like mine, have you?’
He shook his head. ‘Strong, with a little milk and two sugars.’
‘That’s it.’ She waved him away with a gesture. ‘Off you go then. You make your way down, and I’ll follow on.’
By the time Lucy arrived in the kitchen, the doctor was pouring out two cups of tea and had got out a plate of Elsie’s home-baked shortbread. ‘I can’t stay long,’ he told Lucy. ‘I must check on Maggie Craig; she’s not too far away from giving birth.’
Lucy tut-tutted. ‘That’s her eighth in as many years. If you ask me, it’s not Maggie as wants checking on, it’s her old man. Quickest way to help Maggie and cut your work down into the bargain, is to chop it off for him. That’ll give everyone a rest, won’t it?’
The doctor laughed. ‘It’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘He’s a selfish bugger, though. If it was him having the babies, he wouldn’t be so quick to make them.’
She thought of her dead son, little Jamie, drowned these past twenty years or more, and her heart was sore. ‘Mind you,’ she went on in a softer voice, ‘there is nothing more magical than holding a child in your arms.’
The doctor looked up to see the sadness in her eyes; he had seen it before and had been curious. Not for the first time, he sensed there was something in Lucy’s past that she was unable to let go. He might have asked, but the young man’s instinct told him Lucy would not thank him for it. So he waited until the sadness had passed, and she was smiling at him, as though everything was all right in her world.
‘I expect you have a busy day ahead of you, Doctor?’
‘I have, yes.’ Finishing his tea, he munched the last of his biscuit, and when he thought Lucy wasn’t looking, he tucked one into his jacket pocket. ‘I really must get on now,’ he excused himself. ‘Remember what I said, won’t you?’
Lucy nodded. ‘I will, yes. Thank you, Doctor, and mind you don’t crush that biscuit to crumbs in your pocket. Here.’ Taking a napkin from the drawer she gave it to him with a knowing little smile. ‘Best wrap it up in that, eh?’
Looking like a little boy caught with his hand in the sweetie jar, Dr Nolan did as he was told, and went sheepishly on his way.
Through the window Lucy watched him leave and when he was gone her gaze fell on Mary, who was walking with Ben towards the house.
‘We’re away now, Mother.’ Mary arrived to kiss Lucy cheerio. ‘Ben’s just washing the oil from his hands, then we’re off to organise the tractor.’
Lucy laughed. ‘And what do you know about tractors?’
Mary made a face. ‘Nothing,’ she admitted. ‘I know about cutting grass, about fertilising the soil, growing flowers and vegetables, plants from seed and collecting eggs from the chickens to sell at market, but that’s as far as my knowledge stretches.’ She gave her mother a curious glance. ‘What are you smiling at?’
Lucy’s memories had never jaded. She could remember Overhill Farm in the little Wirral village of Comberton by Weir as if it was yesterday, with Barney and his sons ploughing and seeding, and harvest-time, when the world was aglow with sunshine and the fields yielded their bounty. Somehow, without even knowing it, she had come to learn quite a bit about tractors and the way they worked. ‘I was just thinking,’ she said vaguely.
‘From the look on your face, they must be pleasant thoughts.’ Mary had often seen that look on her mother’s face, a look of yesteryear, sometimes sad, sometimes warm with joy, and not once had she ever felt a part of it. ‘What were you thinking about?’
‘Oh, things that happened before you were born.’
‘What things?’
Lucy was wary now. Even though Mary knew something about the secrets of the past, Lucy found it hard to discuss every little detail. ‘I was just remembering how much I seem to have learned about tractors, that’s all.’
Mary was intrigued. ‘You loved helping Daddy on the farm, didn’t you?’ How she wished she had been a part of it all. But not the heartache, not that.
Lucy didn’t get a chance to answer because now Ben was in the room, unrolling his sleeves and preparing to leave. ‘If you’re ready, we’d best be off now,’ he told Mary, and to Lucy he suggested, ‘Would you like to come with us?’
Lucy was tempted. ‘That’s very kind,’ she said, ‘but you don’t want me limping along, acting the wallflower. Besides, I’ve got things to do. You two get off and enjoy yourselves. You can tell me all about it when you get back.’
All too soon the two of them were climbing into Ben’s car, laughing and talking, and Lucy was thrilled to see them so happy and content. ‘See that, Barney?’ she murmured aloud. ‘That was you and me, in the short time we had together.’
Ravaged by emotions and memories she found difficult to cope with, Lucy went back to her room, slipped out of her shoes and lay down on the bed. Her gaze fixed on the ceiling, eyes closed, bittersweet tears trickled down her face. ‘I want you back,’ she whispered. ‘Oh Barney, even now, after twenty years, I still miss you so much. I want you back – and I know it will never happen.’
For a time her heart was unbearably heavy. When she was quiet at last, she went to the bathroom and washed her face. Afterwards, feeling fresher and more able to face another day, she went downstairs, where Elsie was covering a large pie with pastry. ‘Steak and kidney pie and mash for dinner tonight,’ she advised Lucy. ‘I’ll cover it with greaseproof paper and set it on the shelf in the pantry. Oh, and there’s apple crumble for afterwards. Won’t take a second for Mary to heat up the spuds with a knob of butter, and to boil up some custard.’
Lucy was astonished. ‘Good grief!’ She stared at the pie and then at Elsie. ‘You’ve got your skates on this morning, haven’t you?’ She glanced about the kitchen, which by now was spick and span. ‘Are you in a hurry or what?’
For a minute it seemed as though Elsie had not heard Lucy’s question, because she continued cutting the edge of the pastry to a pattern, then carried the pie to the pantry. Now she was at the sink, slapping her hands together to rid them of the flour before washing them under the tap.
Lucy spoke again. ‘Elsie! Did you hear what I said?’
‘I did, yes, and there’s no need to shout.’
‘Well then, have the manners to answer.’
The woman turned. ‘All right – then yes, I am in a hurry.’
‘Why?’
‘Things to do.’ Elsie never used many words when a few would do.