Lonely Girl
Taking her by the arms, he thrust Molly away and grabbed Rosie to him. Then, giving her into Harry’s safekeeping, he shot forward to pin his wife against the cart. ‘What kind of bully are you, eh? Just look at her – whatever she might have done, she did not deserve a beating like that. What kind of a mother are you, for pity’s sake?’
Without a backward glance, and filling the air with obscenities, Molly fled into the house and slammed the door behind her.
‘Ssh … it’s all right, sweetheart, you’re safe now.’ John went to collect Rosie from his nephew, who was still visibly shaken by what he had witnessed.
‘Don’t worry, son,’ John assured him, ‘Rosie will be all right. Just leave the stables for now – I’ll finish them later – but please see to the horse. He looks badly shaken.’
The horse was foaming at the mouth and anxiously treading the ground with his front hoofs, as though at any minute he might take flight.
John stroked a tender hand over the horse’s neck. ‘Easy, boy,’ he quietly reassured him, ‘you’re in safe hands now.’
Mindful of Rosie, and eager to get her inside, he said to Harry, ‘I’ll check him thoroughly the minute I can, but could you gently unshackle him and make him comfortable in the stable? Make sure he’s got water and hay in the rack.’
Though desperate to get Rosie indoors, John swiftly examined the horse to reassure himself that this gentle animal was not badly injured, and when he saw the shadowy stripes of the whip, he had to hold back his temper. ‘Rushed through the lanes, and whipped for your trouble, eh, boy?’ He ran a firm but gentle hand over the horse’s velvety neck and back. ‘No lasting damage, though, thank goodness.’
Scooping Rosie into his arms, he then began to make his way to the house, calling to Harry as he went, ‘Just run the cart into the barn and leave it. When the old fella is calm and fed, you should go home. Your mother will be watching for you.’
Harry was still shocked at the way Molly had vented her anger on the lovely Rosie, and by the look of the horse’s back he also had taken a harsh punishment. Like Rosie, that quiet old horse did not have a bad bone in his body, so what could either the horse or Rosie have done to warrant such a beating?
He was deeply concerned about Rosie, and so he told John, ‘I don’t want to go home yet. Please may I stay with the horse until you come back out?’
John understood and was grateful for Harry’s concern. ‘You’re a great help to me,’ he told him. ‘Remember, just keep the old horse calm, and I’ll be out as soon as I can.’
Now, his priority had to be Rosie. The little girl was his life.
He felt Rosie clinging tighter to him the closer they got to the house.
‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ he promised. ‘Your mother will never hurt you again … not if I can help it.’
Molly watched through the window as her angry husband approached, their daughter in his arms. ‘That’s right,’ she muttered spitefully, ‘fussing over the little brat as usual! Oh, but don’t worry about me, and the humiliation I’ve endured today, and all because of your precious little innocent.’
When he came into the house, John could hardly look at her. ‘Take a look at what you’ve done. What kind of mother would do such a thing to her own child? You should be ashamed.’
He pointed to two red marks on Rosie’s arm where her mother had held her in a vicious grip. Dark bruises on her neck and face were becoming increasingly visible, and trickles of blood were running from her nose.
Molly looked away.
‘Yes! You should look away,’ John said in a low, trembling voice. ‘This is your daughter, just turned five years old, and this is how you treat her.’ He pointed to the swelling weals and bruises on Rosie’s face and arms. ‘What you’ve done here is assault … pure and simple. People get put away for less than this. If it was reported to the police, you’d be locked up for a long time, and you would damned well deserve it, too!’
‘Hmm!’ Taking a step closer, Molly sneered, ‘Report me then, why don’t you?’
John glared at his wife in disgust. ‘I don’t even know who you are these days … maybe I never did. Why would you want to hurt a helpless child like that … our own little daughter? It beggars belief.’ Leaning forward, he whispered harshly, ‘I should hurt you, just like you’ve hurt Rosie. That way, you might realise how it feels.’
Molly Tanner smiled nastily. She knew he would never hurt her. He was too kind. And far too weak.
Unable to look on her a moment longer, John hurried Rosie away to bathe her wounds.
As her father carried her to the kitchen, Rosie looked back to see her mother smiling.
For a moment Rosie thought her mother was trying to say she was sorry, but then she realised the smile was neither reassuring nor warm, but cold and hateful, and the little girl held on all the tighter to her father.
John carefully settled his daughter at the kitchen table while he drew a bowl of warm water and found a flannel, which he rinsed under the cold tap.
Bringing the flannel to her face, he told her, ‘Put your head back a little, sweetheart. Keep this pressed to your nose, and the bleeding will soon stop.’ He then treated the bruises with saltwater and camomile, constantly assuring her that by the morning the bruises would be almost gone. Privately he thought it would be a long time, if ever, before Rosie would be able to forget how badly her mother had beaten her, and for what? He was determined to get to the bottom of it all.
When she was cleaned up he carried his small daughter upstairs and put her to bed.
‘I’ll be up again in a while to see if there’s anything you need,’ he promised.
Leaving the door slightly open in case she might call out, he paused on the landing, and when it seemed the ordeal had tired Rosie out, he leaned on the banister and softly cried, asking himself over and over how Molly could be so wicked as to hurt their child like that.
Somewhere along the way, deep in his heart, he had lost a huge measure of respect for this woman whom he felt he hardly knew any more. In fact, at some time during the past six years, since they were married, he had come to realise she was not the woman he had believed her to be.
If he had known at the outset what she was really like, he might have walked away, but even now, after what she had done, he still loved and needed her, and if that made him a weak man, then so he was. Above all else, John Tanner was a good and forgiving man. In spite of what he had witnessed this sorry day, he convinced himself that the woman he had taken as his wife must surely have a measure of compassion in her soul.
One way or another, he meant to find it.
PART TWO
Badness Will Out
CHAPTER ONE
THRUSTING THE UNHAPPY memories to the back of her mind, Rosie, peeping between the curtains, concentrated on keeping her vigil at the window. She now truly believed that tonight her mother would not come home. The troubling thought was tempered with an odd sense of relief.
She was startled by a gentle knock on her bedroom door and turned to see her father peeking round.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you, sweetheart,’ he said, coming into the room, patting the thick neck of his black Labrador, Barney, at his heels. ‘Is there any sight of your mother yet?’
‘No … not yet.’ Rosie knew how concerned he was.
When the dog came to sit beside her, Rosie ruffled his coat. ‘Hello, Barney. Come to see me, have you?’ She hugged him close, imploring her concerned father, ‘Daddy, please don’t worry about Mother. I’m sure she must be on her way home.’
John chuckled. ‘Hark at you, young lady. All grown up and reassuring me. It wasn’t all that long ago that it would be the other way round.’
He came over and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘I’m so proud of you, Rosie,’ he told her. ‘We both know your mother can be hurtful at times, but you’ve learned to take it all in your stride. Fifteen going on forty-five, that’s what you are.’ He slid a comforting arm about her. ‘Hand on heart, Rosie, I do believe that she never purposely sets out to be spiteful. It’s as if she just can’t help herself.’
‘But she is spiteful, Daddy, to both of us, and to Harry, also. Sometimes she flies into a temper for no reason. She’s always been like that, and I don’t suppose she will ever change.’
‘I know, and you have every right to feel aggrieved,’ John said quietly, ‘although I think your mother has been more in control of her temper these past few years. You must have seen that for yourself, sweetheart.’
Rosie shrugged. ‘Maybe … but that’s probably because we all do what Harry does, and try to keep out of her way.’
Sitting on the edge of the bed, John momentarily lapsed into silence. Then, cautiously, he asked, ‘Can I tell you something, Rosie?’
She thought he had something weighing on his mind. ‘Of course.’
‘It’s just that I have good reason to believe that she was never really meant to be a mother.’
‘How do you mean, Daddy?’ He had Rosie’s full attention. ‘All I know is, she never wanted me. She’s always telling me that.’
‘Yes, and I’m sorry she has ever said such a terrible thing, but it only strengthens my belief that some women are truly not meant to have children. But to be honest, Rosie, I really don’t think she means half of what she says.’
Rosie looked him in the eye. ‘Well, I know she does, otherwise why would she say it?’
‘I don’t think it’s altogether her fault.’
‘Whose fault is it, then?’
John took a deep breath. ‘Some time back, I read an article in a medical magazine in the dentist’s surgery, when I had to have that back tooth out.’
Rosie was curious. ‘What kind of article? And what’s it got to do with Mother’s spiteful ways?’
John went on quietly, ‘It explained how some women, through no fault of their own, can never see themselves as mothers. They do not have a natural instinct with children, and they are unable to cope with the responsibility of raising them.’
‘I don’t understand.’
John admitted that he did not really understand either. ‘From what I can recall, it seems that some women – from every walk of life, and for many different reasons – are born without any maternal instinct whatsoever, and they don’t, and never will, possess the urge to bear a child or to love and take care of one.’
‘But that’s not natural … is it?’ Rosie was nonplussed, though she knew her own mother found it hard to love her, and there had been many occasions when she would rather hurt her than care for her.
‘If that article really is true, then there must be other women like Mother.’ Suddenly afraid her mother might appear at the door, Rosie lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Sometimes, even when I haven’t done anything wrong, she screams at me and says hurtful things to make me cry. And she never, ever cuddles me. One time, I threatened to run away but she just laughed in my face and offered to pack a bag for me.’
‘You mean you actually meant to run away?’ John asked. ‘Why didn’t you come to me? Maybe by offering to pack your bag, your mother was trying you, thinking that if she pretended to go along with your threat you might give up the idea.’
‘No, Daddy. You weren’t there. She really wanted me to leave.’ Rosie was adamant. ‘She chased me upstairs and started packing my clothes into a bag, and she was angry … saying bad things. She told me that when she was just fifteen she was made to fend for herself and that it never did her any harm. She said it was time I learned to take care of myself, because I would be fifteen soon and old enough to fly the nest.’
‘I see.’ John was angry that his wife had spoken to Rosie in such a way. ‘She never mentioned it to me,’ he remarked quietly, ‘and she was wrong to say such a thing. I know she left home early herself – and from what your Auntie Kathleen has told me, it seems your mother was a difficult child – but after leaving home she did largely what she wanted, and never looked back. She had various factory jobs and bar work and always had just enough money to keep her in style. Yes, she’s always had tremendous style.’
Rosie was impressed despite herself. ‘I don’t know if I could do that. I don’t think, even though I said I’d go, that I’m really ready to be sent packing, and besides, I would miss you too much … and the farm … and I expect I would even miss Mother.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ John smiled. ‘Yes, she’s a difficult woman, but we’re all made different, and we have to live with what we’ve got. And you are nothing like your mother. You’re strong, too, but in a different, calmer way.’
He was keen to reassure her. ‘You’ve no need to worry about what your mother said to you because I promise you, hand on heart, you will never be “sent packing”. This is your home for as long as you need it. It will be for you to decide when the time does eventually come for you want to fly the nest.’
‘Don’t you think I’m brave enough to go out in the big wide world?’
‘I’m not saying that, sweetheart.’ John found it difficult to choose the right words. ‘You are so different from your mother. You’re a strong, deep-thinking girl, with a heart full of love and compassion. So many times I’ve seen how you put other people’s feelings before your own. Look at that time last spring when we had weeks of rain. Everything was flooded, including the big pond in the valley. When one of our new lambs escaped from the barn and slipped down the bank into the pond, you waded in after it without any thought for your own safety.’ He smiled. ‘You gave me one hell of a fright. In the end I had to save the pair of you.’
Rosie had not forgotten. ‘I’m sorry I scared you,’ she said, ‘but the lamb was so frightened.’
‘Ah, but not my Rosie, eh? Though running into the water was a foolhardy thing to do. I’m only thankful that I was there to retrieve you.’
He lowered his voice and spoke in a gentler tone. ‘You do see what I’m trying to get at, don’t you, Rosie? I could never imagine your mother going in after that lamb, but that does not make her a coward. It makes her cautious and protective of herself. But you care deeply about everything and everyone … even your mother. You’re quieter and more thoughtful than she is. You’re just altogether different. While she sees this farm and the land as a kind of prison, you’ve always loved it … much like I do. As you know, this farm was handed down to me from my father.’ He smiled warmly. ‘It gives me such joy to know that you share my passion for this place.’
He had long been saddened by his wife’s dislike of the farm and the surrounding countryside. ‘Your mother has never really settled here. She’s forever saying she wants us to move, bag and baggage, into the town centre, though she knows I could never agree to it. Maybe that makes me selfish – I don’t know. But you see what I’m saying, don’t you? The two of you are unalike in so many ways.’
Rosie spoke her mind. ‘I don’t want to be like Mother.’
John understood, although what lay behind her comment saddened him. ‘Do you know what would make me happy, Rosie? I would feel so much better if you could just try not to be too hard on your mother. She can’t help the way she is. I know she’s got many failings but don’t we all have failings of some sort or another? None of us is perfect, Rosie. Let’s take a look at the good things she’s done, shall we? First of all, she allowed me the greatest gift I could ever have … and that is you, Rosie. She raised you, and here you are, a lovely, kind and gentle girl on the edge of womanhood. You’ve turned out to be a fine human being, so somewhere along the way your mother must have done something right. I’ll admit you have good reason at times to think she doesn’t love you, but I’m sure she does … in her own peculiar way.’
Hoping he was getting through to Rosie, he went on, ‘Having said that, I have to agree that just lately she’s been on a really short fuse, but over the sixteen years since I married her I have seen glimpses of tenderness in her. Not often, I’ll admit, but somewhere under her hard shell there must be a softness in her character.’
Rosie instinctively glanced through the window. ‘Well, if there is, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.’
‘Maybe you didn’t want to … not really.’
While Rosie thought about his comment, he went on, ‘Auntie Kathleen told me that your mother left home after a furious row with her parents, apparently over some small issue that was never resolved, even though Molly dearly loved her mother. It would seem that she’s always been strong-minded, but I like to think she doesn’t mean half of what she says … that maybe her sharp tongue is just the nature of her.’
‘You really do love her, don’t you, Daddy?’ Rosie asked softly.
‘Yes, Rosie …’ he gave a deep sigh, ‘… I think I must.’
Rosie felt guilty now. ‘I really don’t hate her, Daddy.’
‘I know you don’t, sweetheart.’
‘Is it my fault that she hasn’t come home yet?’
‘Of course not. She’s probably met up with a friend.’
‘I don’t think she has many friends.’
‘Well, there you go, Rosie. Just because we haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. But you’re right. I know she’s not one for making friends easily.’ He confided, ‘According to her, the two girls who used to work with her at the pub were – in your mother’s own words – too young and silly for their own good. Also, as I’m sure you probably heard, she’s already had a set-to with the new barmaid who works alongside her. On top of that, for whatever reason, she hasn’t spoken to your Auntie Kathleen for ages, and why she seems to have taken against Harry, I have no idea. He’s a decent young man. If I searched for a month o’ Sundays, I might never find such a fine, hard-working young man.’
Rosie had also been thinking about that. ‘Maybe the reason Mother doesn’t like him is because Auntie Kathleen is not his real mother, so he’s not part of the family.’
‘Well, yes, that may well be so, though, as far as I’m concerned, Harry is now and he always will be part of this family. As you may recall, Harry’s mother died after a long illness, and some months after that, his father, Paddy, met your Auntie Kathleen. According to Kathleen, both Paddy and his son were two lost souls. Harry was a bit too young to understand exactly what was happening, but like Paddy, he was very unhappy.’
‘I know what happened,’ Rosie remarked thoughtfully, ‘and I’m really glad that Auntie Kathleen and Uncle Patrick found each other.’
‘So am I, Rosie. Sometimes good things happen, and they help us forget the bad times. Kathleen never had children of her own and she took young Harry to her heart as though he was her own. In her quiet, kindly way, she got the little boy and his father through the bad times, and the three of them are now a strong family. I had hoped your mother would accept that, but if she hasn’t accepted Harry by now I don’t believe she ever will, more’s the pity.’
‘I don’t suppose Harry cares much for her either,’ Rosie remarked angrily.
John understood. ‘There’s always hope. Maybe, after all, she’ll see him for what he is: a fine young man who works hard and takes a pride in his many responsibilities. He’s a foreman in the making. The truth is, I honestly don’t know how I would manage without him.’
The thought of Harry not being around on the farm made Rosie sad. ‘Harry told me that Farmer Bennett offered to take him on if he ever left you. But Harry told him he would never leave, that he was happy here learning how to be a good farmer.’
John smiled knowingly. ‘I’m well aware that Harry could get a prime position at any one of the farms hereabouts. I also know he’s been approached and has turned down other farmers, and I truly appreciate his loyalty.’
‘Well, if you want him to stay tell Mother to stop yelling at him and blaming him for anything that goes wrong. Yesterday she threatened to sack him. I was in the kitchen and I heard her screaming and shouting because he brought the horses in from the fields.’
‘I’m afraid that was my fault,’ John said. ‘I forgot to tell Harry that the blacksmith had to rebook as he’d been called out to an emergency. Unfortunately, it was still down on Harry’s work schedule to bring in the horses for shoeing. I explained to your mother that the employees must remain my responsibility, and if ever there might be a reason to reprimand anyone, I would deal with it. The matter is now done and dusted.’
‘I bet Mother didn’t take any notice.’
‘Oh, I think she did. I made it very clear …’ He now recalled Molly’s response to his words of caution. ‘In fact, to be fair – although she did not actually say it – I got the distinct feeling your mother was sorry for blaming Harry after I explained that it was not his fault.’
He stood and moved to the window, peering into the darkness. ‘What’s keeping her? Where the devil is she?’ He glanced at Rosie’s bedside clock. It was gone eleven o’clock. ‘Your mother is usually home by now. I’d best go and meet her. I know she won’t thank me for it, but it’s pitch-black out there, and you never know who might be hanging about in the shadows. If that clock is right, the Magpie will have closed its doors an hour or so back,’ he added under his breath.
He kissed Rosie on top of her head. ‘I’m going to find her, Rosie, and I need you to stay upstairs with Barney. I’ll secure the house and lock the doors on the way out. You know where the spare key is, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Daddy.’
‘Good.’ He gave Rosie a stern look. ‘Whatever you hear, or whoever might knock on the door, do not go outside. I’ll be as quick as I can. Close the curtains and keep them closed … and make sure you stay well away from the windows.’
He hurried across the room, then stopped at the door. ‘Remember what I said, Rosie. Do not open the door or answer to anyone who might call, no matter who it might be. D’you understand?’
‘Yes, Daddy. But can’t I come with you?’ she asked, following him to the door.
‘No, sweetheart. I don’t want you out there in the dark, and anyway I might need to go into the Magpie, and a pub is no place for a young girl.’ He gave her a quick hug. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll be back in no time. Here, Barney. Good boy.’ He called the Labrador to him and ruffled the big dog’s collar. ‘I want you to look after our lovely girl. Don’t you leave her … not even for a minute.’
He gave Barney a little push and the dog went straight into Rosie’s arms. Holding him tight, she laughed out loud when he began washing her face with his long pink tongue.
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ John promised, ‘and with luck I’ll have your mother in tow. Now remember, before I come into the house I’ll call up to you. When you hear my voice, take a little peep through the window to make absolutely sure it’s me. D’you understand?’
Feeling safe and loved, Rosie assured him that she did.
‘Right then, sweetheart … I’m glad we managed to clear the air and I’m glad we’ve been honest with each other. We should have had this little chat long ago, but we’ll do it again, I promise. Now I’d best be off.’
For the next few minutes, Rosie heard her father going from room to room, securing her inside the house. Then she heard him close the front door and she waited for the click of the key in the lock. When she heard that she ran back to the window and gingerly turned up a corner of the curtain in order to catch a glimpse of him.
For a moment or so she could not pick out his tall, strong figure; then he passed under the big automatic security lights attached to the largest building in the yard.
Last winter, after a spate of thefts from farms in the area, Rosie’s father had made this barn strong and secure enough to house his valuable farming equipment.