Книга - Lonely Girl

Lonely Girl
Josephine Cox


The new novel from Sunday Times bestselling author Josephine Cox gets straight to the hope and heartbreak of family drama.One fateful night changes the course of a child’s life forever…Rosie’s mother is a cruel woman and has Rosie’s kind and loving father wrapped around her finger. Though John Tanner does his best to protect her, Rosie often bears the brunt of her mother’s rage.And his protection can’t last forever.In one tragic moment Rosie’s fragile world is shattered. Grieving and alone, Rosie is thrust into a harsh reality, and she must face the obstacles that fate has set in her path.But secrets will out, and Rosie must uncover the shocking truth behind her mother’s cruelty before she can hope for the love and happiness she deserves.




















Copyright (#ud5f5cb5d-8c59-52f4-aea7-061a69860791)


Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2015

Copyright © Josephine Cox 2015

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover photographs © Mark Owen/Trevillion Images (girl); Stephanie Frey/Trevillion Images (dog);

Brendon Burton/Arcangel Images (landscape); Lisa Takahashi/EyeEm/Getty Images (birds,sky);

Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com) (border)

Josephine Cox asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN 9780007476732

Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780007476749

Version: 2017-05-22




Dedication (#ud5f5cb5d-8c59-52f4-aea7-061a69860791)


For my Ken – as always


Table of Contents

Cover (#ueeeb7377-24e6-5255-8ab2-3c03f5cfb53c)

Title Page (#u7649dce5-024b-5b78-8a3e-727533bc3cac)

Copyright (#u1c05036e-c5cb-58cc-bd2d-9b477c4e678d)

Dedication (#udb084f72-a8f0-5512-8dd4-7d0277321d9b)

Part One: Dark Memories (#ucc4f8fc1-66eb-57d6-9aae-d13f32ab8c11)

Prologue (#uab9dce7e-d61d-5cb5-b3cd-582a17a700b8)

Part Two: Badness Will Out (#u1baab7f0-09cc-5e12-b551-1e86bf9d59d1)



Chapter One (#ucf4bef8c-5da1-58a0-bf04-bc391a74beb3)



Chapter Two (#u1b8493d3-c359-5e60-a51a-c37549a49dfb)



Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)



Part Three: Realisation (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)



Part Four: The Aftermath (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)



Part Five: Revelations (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)



Preorder Jo’s next book (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)



Also by Josephine Cox (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)





PART ONE (#ud5f5cb5d-8c59-52f4-aea7-061a69860791)










Dark Memories (#ud5f5cb5d-8c59-52f4-aea7-061a69860791)









Tanner’s Farm, Bucks Village, Southern England, 1960




PROLOGUE (#ud5f5cb5d-8c59-52f4-aea7-061a69860791)


CROUCHING LOW BENEATH the bedroom window, young Rosie peered through the murky darkness of a cold November evening.

Anxiously training her gaze along the pathway that ran by the big barn, she wondered if her mother might show at any moment. Rosie would not mind if her mother stayed away for ever, but she knew her father would be sad because he loved her, even though they were always arguing.

So, for his sake, Rosie hoped her mother might somehow manage to find her way home from the village pub where she worked as a barmaid. Often her shift would slip into her social life. She liked a drink and a laugh. She also liked the admiration of men, who were drawn to her dark looks and enticing smile.

Whenever her mother was late coming home, Rosie had good cause to fear the worst. Keeping her vigil at the window, she wondered what kind of mood her mother would be in if she did come home. Would she be in one of her dark rages? Would she be feeling spiteful and ready to fight with Rosie’s father? Or would she be laughing and playful, or impossible to talk with and so drunk she could hardly stand?

Rosie could never decide which was worse, because whichever way it was, it always ended badly.

Neither Rosie nor her father ever knew what to expect when Molly Tanner returned from a night out. She never spoke about exactly where she had been, or who she had been with, and if John Tanner dared to pursue the truth, a fierce row would inevitably ensue, and Rosie would run upstairs in fear, to hide under her bedclothes.

Looking back, Rosie realised that nothing much had changed over the years except that they all had grown older and a little wiser. Her mother was forever complaining that she was ‘coming up to her dreaded fifties’. She was still proud of her sultry looks, and rumour had it that she was still cheating on her loving and hard-working husband. Her dislike for her only child had reached the point where she could hardly bear to be near her.

Molly Tanner had never possessed the strong maternal instinct that bonds a mother with her child. She had neither the instinct nor the wish to be a mother, and made that clear to all who would listen. Consequently, she played precious little part in Rosie’s life.

After a while, young Rosie had stopped caring. Her daddy had been, and still was, her whole life. If she was ever worried or hurting, it was her father’s help she sought; she had learned long ago that there was no point in seeking comfort or advice from her disinterested mother. The little girl had grown and flourished without her help.






Growing irritable, Rosie brought her thoughts back to the present, while she continued watching out of the window.

‘Don’t get upset because your mother never loved you,’ she told herself. ‘You’re not a baby any more. You’re turned fifteen and very soon, you’ll be leaving school.’

Rosie was greatly excited at the prospect of leaving school. At long last she would be able to get a job, although she was adamant on one point. When I do start earning a wage, I’ll give it to Daddy … not to her, because she’ll only spend it down the pub, or on fancy clothes and make-up to impress the men she flirts with, Rosie resolved.

Glancing at the bedside clock, she realised that she had been keeping her vigil for her wayward mother for over an hour.

I expect Daddy’s worried sick, but what does she care, so long as she’s having a good time? she thought.

She clambered up and closed the curtains. Then she crossed the floor to switch on the light, and for a while continued to pace back and forth, occasionally peering through the gap between the curtains and growing increasingly agitated.

The minutes ticked by and, with still no sign of her mother, Rosie went to sit at the dressing table. Absent-mindedly studying her reflection in the mirror, she was greatly relieved that she had not inherited her mother’s striking looks – or her bad temper either.

Although her own hair was waist-length like her mother’s, that was where the resemblance ended because Rosie’s hair was the same light chestnut colour as her father’s, while Molly’s was dark and fell in luscious waves. Rosie’s strong blue eyes were also inherited from her father’s side of the family, although her father’s eyes were tinged with a hint of green, which deepened when he was angry, which was not very often.

Anxiously, Rosie studied herself in the mirror, thinking of her mother and the unkind things she would say.

Molly often complained that she found it hard to believe that she had such a plain-looking daughter. ‘You remind me of my sister, Kathleen,’ she would tease spitefully. ‘She was always the plain, shy girl at school. At playtime, she would stand in the corner while everyone else was having fun. When we were younger, the boys always came after me. They never went for her. Hmm! She would probably have been left on the shelf if it hadn’t been for your Uncle Paddy. Like her, he’s a plain-looking sort with not much about him. They’re two of a kind,’ she’d smirk. ‘I always knew they would get together, but only after lover-boy had enjoyed playing the field.’

Rosie knew this was unjust. Uncle Patrick and Auntie Kathleen were funny, kind, and a devoted couple. Rosie loved them dearly, as she did Harry, Patrick’s son from his first marriage.

Over the years, Rosie had often been shocked at her mother’s cruel remarks about her family. There had been one particular occasion that she would never forget, when she was just five years of age.

As the memories of that awful episode crowded her mind, she forced herself to concentrate on the path alongside the big barn, but the darkness had thickened, and all was quiet, save for the occasional howl of a lonely dog.

Rosie moved closer to the window, peering into the darkness and listening for the familiar click-clack of high-heeled shoes against the concrete path.

‘Where are you?’ Rosie muttered angrily. ‘Why do you never come home when you should? And who are you with when you’re not with us?’ She realised that she was mimicking the questions her father might ask of his wayward wife.

Troubled, she moved away from the window. ‘All right, stay away then,’ she grumbled. ‘If you don’t come home, we’ll be happier without you.’

Close to tears, she recalled that many times over the years her mother had said to her, ‘I don’t love you … and I never will!’ Her cruel words had cut Rosie to the heart, but it was the events of her fifth birthday that played through her head so strongly this evening.

Surprisingly, for the first time ever her mother had organised a wonderful party for her only child. She had also made a cake, with candles and pretty icing, and Rosie was especially thrilled when the children from neighbouring farms were invited to celebrate her birthday with her.

Normally, her mother did not like Rosie mixing with what she called ‘the rabble’, but that day, for whatever reason, she decided to break the habit and be nice to everyone.

John teasingly told his wife it was because Rosie was going to start school the following morning, and she would not have the child under her feet every day.

It was such a happy day for Rosie. All the children stood in a little group to sing ‘Happy Birthday’, before cheering five times – one cheer for each of her years. She was thrilled, and afterwards she thanked her mother for making her birthday so wonderful.

The joy of her party, however, was short-lived, because after everyone had gone home, Molly threw a tantrum. She complained about the noise and the mess, about the washing up, and about one of the children weeing on the bathroom floor, which she forced Rosie to clean up. Afterwards, she ordered Rosie to bed. Being afraid of her mother’s swift and dangerous change of mood, Rosie ran up the stairs and quickly climbed into bed where, tired out from her wonderful party, she quickly fell asleep.

Some time later, she was woken by the loud noise of things being thrown about, and the angry voices of both her parents, yelling and arguing. Rosie felt very frightened, most especially that her mother might come upstairs to hurt her. Hiding deep under the bedclothes, she wondered how the woman who was screeching and throwing things could be the same kind person who had made her birthday party so very special.

The next day, however, Molly was remarkably jovial and attentive to her young daughter, leaving Rosie to wonder again whether this person and the crazy woman of last night were actually one and the same.

Nervous and excited about starting school, Rosie had just washed herself and cleaned her teeth when her mother appeared with her new school uniform.

Rosie had been sitting on the stool in front of the dressing-table mirror, brushing her long hair. When her mother ordered her to hurry up or they would be late for her first day, Rosie got into a panic and accidentally dropped the brush onto the floor.

Before she could retrieve it, her mother rushed across the room, snatched up the brush and flung it across the dressing table. ‘You’ve wasted enough time brushing your hair,’ she grumbled. ‘You’re a selfish, vain child! Now come on, move yourself! Your father has already brought the horse and cart round, and here you are … looking in the mirror … brushing your hair like we’ve got all the time in the world.’

She hurried Rosie out and down the stairs, then through the front door. John was waiting for them in the lane.

‘What took you so long?’ he laughed, hugging Rosie and wishing her well on her first day at school. Then he held the horse while his wife and daughter climbed onto the cart.

Molly Tanner surprised the horse with a sharp flick of the whip and he shot forward at speed.

Rosie looked back to see her father waving her off and she happily waved back.

Molly, however, was all het up. ‘We’ll be late now, and all because you thought it more important to spend half an hour fussing yourself in the mirror.’

Casting her mind back now, Rosie remembered the incident so vividly it seemed as though the frightening journey to school was only yesterday.

Her mother, using the whip and yelling at the top of her voice, had forced the poor old horse to career along the winding lanes.

‘This is your fault,’ she screamed at her daughter, ‘spending precious time pampering your hair, like you were a film star or something.’

Terrified for the horse, who was soon foaming at the mouth, Rosie begged her mother to slow down. ‘You’re frightening the horse … you’re hurting him, and it’s not his fault. I promise I’ll get up earlier tomorrow, Mummy … only please don’t whip him.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do, child – not if you know what’s good for you.’

By now concerned herself that the horse was beginning to panic and might well bolt, Molly drew in the reins and eventually calmed the nervous animal.

Her daughter, however, was shown no such kindness.

‘Too damned right you’ll get up earlier tomorrow,’ Molly continued, ‘because I’ll make sure of it. I’ll have you out of that bed as soon as the cock crows, you see if I don’t!’ Her dark eyes flashed in anger. ‘What’s more, you can go to bed an hour earlier tonight, and no arguing.’

Hanging on to the wooden rail at her side, Rosie was made to endure a harrowing chase down the lanes. Once she dared to glance up at her mother. Molly’s dark eyes were angry, and her thick dark hair hung in deep waves across her shoulders, and Rosie couldn’t help but wonder how her mother could be so wicked when she looked so beautiful.

Throughout the remainder of the short journey not another word passed between them.

On arriving at school, with the cart and sweating horse safely secured, Molly rushed her daughter across the playground to the school doors. All the other children must have gone in already, though there was a young woman standing as if waiting on the other side of the road.

‘You’d better be on your best behaviour, my girl,’ Molly warned. ‘Make sure there are no bad reports from your teacher when I come to pick you up, or you’ll have me to answer to, and no mistake. All right?’

Rosie nodded, but her mother’s warning and the prospect of another nerve-racking journey had made her afraid. ‘Please … I don’t want to go to school.’ The tears began to fall. ‘I want to go home.’

‘Don’t be such a softy! If you let the other children see you crying, they’ll just laugh at you. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, would you?’

Rosie shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Then you’d best do as you’re told.’

Without further ado, Molly grabbed Rosie by the arm and marched her into the entrance hall. ‘I mean what I say,’ she hissed. ‘Behave yourself.’

She then hurried Rosie into the main hall and handed her over to the headmistress. After saying her goodbyes she hurriedly departed, leaving behind a strong hint of the exotic scent she used, while the sharp tapping sound of her dainty high heels receded into the distance.






That afternoon, when Molly came to collect Rosie after school, the headteacher called her into the office while another teacher took Rosie to wait in the library.

‘I’ve been rather concerned about Rosie.’ The headmistress was most formal. ‘She’s hardly spoken a word all day, and she’s made no effort to play with the other children. In fact, I found her hiding in the playground after the other children were brought inside. She was crying, but when I questioned her, she refused to confide in me. It is obvious that something or someone has upset her, but she would not be persuaded to tell me.’

Molly was angry. ‘I’m not surprised. It sounds to me like you’ve blown this out of all proportion. Of course I understand you might want to know why she was crying, but what you really should know is that my daughter has a bit of a temper. Moreover, she does not take kindly to being questioned by strangers. I’m fully aware that she can be a little madam when she puts her mind to it. But if you don’t mind me saying, it is not your place to sort her out. My daughter is my business, and I shall talk to her about this, you may depend on it.’

The headmistress remained adamant. ‘I thought the two of us might discuss the situation quietly so we might get to the bottom of it. Indeed, that’s why I asked our Miss Harrison to take charge of Rosie for a few minutes.’

‘Really?’ Molly had taken an immediate dislike to this figure of authority. ‘Look, we’ve had our little talk, and now you can safely leave the matter of my daughter’s behaviour in my hands. I am used to dealing with Rosie’s tantrums.’ She stood up to leave, though she was not done yet. ‘I sincerely hope for your sake that my daughter has not been too upset by all this ridiculous fuss, and if I do find that to be the case, I shall have no choice but to refer you to a higher authority.’

‘I’m sure that will not be necessary.’ The headmistress was taken aback. ‘But if you really think me to be inadequate, then of course you must do what you will.’

Having taken stock of Rosie’s angry mother, however, the headmistress had her suspicions. ‘Meantime, Mrs Tanner, as we have no idea what might have upset Rosie, I have a suggestion. It’s just a thought, but I was wondering …’ in the wake of Molly Tanner’s hostility, she took a deep breath, ‘… is it at all possible that something, or someone, at home might have upset her before she came to school this morning?’

‘What the devil are you implying?’ Incensed by the teacher’s probing questions, Molly instantly dismissed them with a sharp rebuke. ‘I resent that implication, and I think you and your staff should be a little more sympathetic. My daughter is a very nervous child and, as I have explained, she can be prone to tears and tantrums. And might I remind you that this is her first day at school. Did it not occur to you that she may have been overwhelmed by everything and everyone?’

When the headmistress made an effort to reply, Molly cut her off viciously. ‘If you ask me, the reason my daughter is so upset must be something to do with you and your staff. In fact, I am beginning to wonder if you’re capable of doing your job responsibly.’

Surprised by Molly Tanner’s verbal attack, the headmistress asked an older, responsible child to return Rosie to her mother, who then marched Rosie out of the school, and onto the cart. Again, Rosie thought she glimpsed a young woman standing a distance away, but by the time Rosie was seated, there was not a sign of anyone about.

On the way home, Molly complained incessantly. ‘You cause me nothing but aggravation. I should never have had you in the first place. I never wanted kids, but it didn’t matter what I wanted – oh, no! Because your father wanted to play daddy! But who is it that has to take care of you, eh? Me! That’s who. From the day you were born, you’ve been like a real thorn in my side!’

She gave Rosie a stark warning. ‘If I get called in again by your teacher, I’ll take the cane to you myself, and I promise you I will not be lenient with it.’

When suddenly the horse stumbled into a shallow pothole, she angrily flicked the whip over his back, causing him to throw his head up and lose his footing momentarily.

When she prepared to raise the whip again, Rosie cried out, ‘Please, Mummy, don’t hurt him.’

‘What have I told you, girl?’ Molly glared at Rosie. ‘Who are you to tell me what to do and what not to do?’ She viciously flicked the whip in the air again. ‘Think yourself fortunate … after what you did at school, you’re lucky I haven’t taken the whip to you!’

All the way home, the volley of abuse continued: ‘I have never been so humiliated. I warn you, my girl, you’d best tell me what lies you’ve been spreading.’

Rosie assured her mother that she had not said anything to anyone, but as always her words fell on deaf ears.

When they arrived back at the farmhouse, Rosie was snatched off the cart and given a sound thrashing, but even as the frightened girl was sobbing, Molly Tanner showed no remorse.






At eight years of age, Rosie’s cousin Harry was a well-built and handsome boy. The son of her uncle Patrick, Harry loved nothing better than doing odd jobs at Tanner’s Farm after school.

Now, on hearing the commotion, he went at the run across the yard, yelling, ‘Uncle John!’

He found John in the far barn, chopping firewood.

‘You’d best come quick.’ Harry was in a panic. ‘It sounds like there’s trouble over by the house.’

Swinging the heavy axe into the log of wood, Rosie’s father wiped the sweat from his face, and threw off his thick gloves. ‘What d’you mean, boy? What kind o’ trouble?’

‘I’m not sure, but there was a lot of shouting and yelling. I think I heard Rosie cry out, so I thought I’d best find you, and quick.’

‘You did right, Harry.’ John hurried towards the house with the boy following close behind.

Turning the corner, and with the house now in his view, John was shocked at what he saw. It was painfully obvious that his wife was in one of her vicious moods, with Rosie at her mercy.

‘Molly!’ Surging forward, he screamed out, ‘Leave the child alone!’

He quickly realised that Rosie had her arms folded across her face so as to protect herself, but she was no match for the woman who was viciously thrashing her with the belt from her coat.

John threw himself between his wife and the child. ‘For God’s sake, woman! What the hell is wrong with you?’

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 (#ud5f5cb5d-8c59-52f4-aea7-061a69860791)










Badness Will Out (#ud5f5cb5d-8c59-52f4-aea7-061a69860791)










CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_2fb85b9e-20b8-5738-bc4f-22cad8541750)


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.

Rosie watched him, thinking he cut a fine figure in his long dark coat, his black-and-white checked cap pulled down to his brow. ‘Love you, Daddy,’ she whispered. She thought about her mother, out there doing whatever it was she did and not caring who might be at home worrying about her.

Within moments her father was gone, having quickly dodged through the space between two farm buildings to cut across the fields. Rosie often used that same short cut into town, but never in the dark. The very idea made her shiver with fright.

Now, with the dog nudging her, she carefully lowered the curtain and turned to fuss him. ‘Well, Barney, Daddy says we have to stay here and not open the door to anyone.’ She giggled. ‘Though I reckon if anyone tried to get in here, you’d have them for breakfast, wouldn’t you, eh?’

Looking up with soulful eyes, the dog stretched out on the carpet to await his master’s return, although Rosie knew he would leap up should he be needed.






‘I think it’s time the pair of you called it a day.’ Peggy Benson, the landlady of the Magpie, was none too pleased when Molly Tanner refused to climb down from the bar stool. In truth, having been made irritable by the booze, she was actively looking for trouble.

‘Come on, Molly,’ Mrs Benson insisted. ‘I need to lock up now. If you don’t mind.’

‘Hey! What’s your problem, lady?’ As she leaned forward, Molly was in danger of tumbling from her perch. ‘Want us out, do you? OK then, but before we leave, it would be nice to have one last drink … on the house, perhaps, as I’m one of the staff.’

‘Sorry! No more booze for you two … at least not in this pub,’ the landlady insisted.

‘Is that so?’ Molly was in fighting mood. ‘Right then, we’re not budging from here. Not until we’ve had another round to finish off the evening. Go on, off you go … back behind the bar!’ She waggled her finger towards the rows of bottles. ‘My friend will have a pint of your best beer, and another G&T for yours truly – and don’t skimp on the gin this time.’ She laughed as she dug a handful of coins from her handbag. ‘See!’ She threw the coins across the bar. ‘I’ve got money, if you’re too tight to give us them on the house, so you needn’t worry about that.’

‘I don’t want your money, Molly, I want the pair of you out of here,’ said Mrs Benson, swallowing down a retort at the difficult woman’s insults. ‘It’s way past closing time, and I am not serving you any more drinks. The bar is officially closed so the two of you might as well get off.’

‘We will, but not until you pour us each a generous nightcap.’

‘Sorry, did you not hear me? I just told you, there will be no more drinks served here tonight. So take your fancy man and get off home.’ She added with a knowing smile, ‘I’m sure your husband is wondering where you are.’ Leaning forward, she lowered her voice confidentially. ‘I’m thinking maybe I should call him to come and get you.’

‘What! You spiteful old cow!’ Agitated, Molly dashed the empty glasses off the bar. ‘You’d best mind your own damned business if you know what’s good for you!’

She glared at the landlady before ambling over to her companion, a small-built, wiry fellow with a shock of fair hair and a well-worn but curiously attractive face. A man well versed in chiselling a living out of anything that came his way, whether legal or otherwise.

Right now, though, he was lying prostrate on the floor. ‘Come on, you …’ Tugging at his coat sleeve, Molly tried to get him up, but the more she struggled and failed, the sulkier he got.

‘Bugger off, Molly!’ Eventually, pushing her aside, he staggered to his feet, taking a moment to lean on the back of a chair. ‘I’ll have you know … I am quite capable of … woa!’ Giggling, he managed to stand up straight. ‘Like I said … I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

Eager to have them gone, Mrs Benson now took charge. With one hand she gripped Molly’s arm, and with the other she grabbed the man’s shoulder, then marched the two of them across the room, and eased them over the threshold and into the outer foyer. ‘Good night then. Mind how you go.’

Satisfying herself that they seemed just about capable of walking away, the weary landlady watched them depart, smiling when she saw how Molly took charge.

The two drunks lumbered along the wide, empty pavement, laughing and joshing and pushing each other onwards. When a lonely dog threatened to cock its leg over her, Molly gave it a swift kick in the nether regions. ‘Dirty hound, bugger off!’

As she hurriedly closed the outer doors, Peggy Benson heard Molly’s angry departing words.

‘Go on, get back inside, you old trout! Call yourself a landlady? Well, I won’t forget this night in a hurry, you see if I don’t! I’ll put word out that you take your customers’ money then chuck ’em out into the night like some old rubbish.’

‘You can tell ’em whatever you like, Molly.’ Mrs Benson did not feel threatened. She was used to dealing with difficult customers and staff, especially the formidable Molly Tanner. Over the years, she had learned to take it all in her stride, knowing by now that any aggravation would be forgotten by the morning.

Molly was irritated to find that while she’d been threatening the landlady her companion had broken rank and was now lolloping along in front, seemingly with no idea of where he might be headed.

Quickening her footsteps, she caught up with him. ‘Hey, you dozy sod, Tom. Where the devil d’you think you’re going? That’s the wrong way.’ She gave him a shove to halt his progress. ‘You should have turned off back there, down Edward Street. You’ve gone straight past it, you daft bugger!’

‘Oh, Molly darlin’, don’t be like that.’ His small bright eyes shone out of a face reddened by too much beer. ‘I must have missed the turning in the dark, that’s all.’ Refreshed by the cold night air, he turned round, and headed back towards Edward Street. ‘It’s all right, though,’ he grumbled sulkily, ‘I get the message. You don’t want me, but that’s OK ’cause I can manage without you. And for your information, I can find my own way home, thank you.’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake, stop moaning!’

Linking her arm with his, she pulled him forward, much to his delight. ‘Hey! Behave yourself, woman!’ he joshed. ‘Anyone would think you were after getting your wicked way with me.’

There was no doubt that Molly Tanner was still a very attractive woman, with those dark alluring eyes … he looked up at her now, as she walked along. Something she did with her hips reminded him of Marilyn Monroe in that film where she plays the ukulele …

He felt rather proud – so proud that he felt brave enough to address her with a suggestive wink and a knowing smile. ‘Hey … Molly darlin’ …’

‘What now?’

‘I’m not ready to go home just yet.’

‘What d’you mean? If you’re not going home, where the devil d’you think you’re going?’

‘I’ve no idea. When I’m with you, Molly, I can’t even think straight.’ He giggled childishly. ‘I really don’t have a single idea about where I’m going, except … well, I want to go where you’re going because, like I said, I’m not ready for home just yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you and me, we have unfinished business.’

‘Oh, yes? And what kind of “business” would that be, eh?’ As if she didn’t know.

Tom sniggered. ‘Ah, come on, Molly, you know very well what kind of “business”!’ Clumsily grabbing her by the shoulders, he drew her towards him. ‘My lovely, wonderful Molly Tanner! I’m not letting you go this time, at least not until we’ve said good night in a right and proper manner.’

‘I know what you’re after, you crafty devil,’ Molly teased him, laughing. ‘You’re after a goodnight kiss from your old sweetheart, isn’t that it?’

‘Sort of, yes, but I want a bit more than that. We both do, and don’t you deny it, Molly … because drunk or sober, you want me as much as I want you. Go on! Admit it.’

‘I do not want you, Tom Stevens. At least not in that way.’

‘Yes, you do, and we both know it.’

‘All right then … maybe I did, a long time back. But I’m over you now.’

‘Liar! You still want me. I know it. So, come on, be honest with me, Molly darlin’ … you an’ me together, like it used to be. Tell me the truth – you do want that, don’t you?’

Molly shook her head. ‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth. Anyway, you haven’t actually said what it is you really want from me. So come on, what do you have in mind?’

‘Well, for now, I just want to take you in my loving arms and ravish the hell outta you. And now you know. So, what d’you reckon?’

For what seemed an age Molly gave no answer, and when she did her quiet reply pleased her companion. ‘D’you know what …’ she paused to remember how it had been between her and this likely fella, and how she had never been happy since breaking up with him, ‘… it’s been a long time since I had a real man’s arms wrapped about me.’

‘Ah! Well, now, Molly my love, it’s your lucky day – or shall I say lucky night?’ Giggling boyishly, he began to leap about in a mad little jig of glee, which went on for a full minute before he lost his footing and fell against the wall. ‘At last I’ve got the truth from you, Molly. I knew you still wanted me. I knew you would see sense eventually. All these years and I’ve never been really in love with anyone else, because I knew I would get you back one day.’

When Molly laughed, he lunged forward to take her by the shoulders. Planting a clumsy but passionate kiss on her mouth, he slyly drew her to the nearest dark shop doorway.

For a moment she gave no resistance, but then she began fighting him, while yelling at the top of her voice, ‘Get off me!’

‘For pity’s sake, Molly, stop that shouting! What’s wrong with you?’ he pleaded.

Thinking he’d lost his only chance of getting her back, he changed tack. ‘Oh, come on, my lovely, you said you were up for it, and you really got me going. And now you’re acting as though you want no part of me. That’s a wicked thing to do, especially to a man who loves the arse off yer!’

‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on me!’ Molly shook him off. ‘If you must know, I want it as much as you do.’

‘So, what was all the shouting about then?’

‘I’ll tell you what it was, you dopey begger! I’m not as easy as I used to be. I have a bit more pride these days. And the time is certainly long gone when I let myself get squashed into a dirty old doorway, where wandering mongrels pee up the wall and tramps might spew out their guts. I’m worth more than that! So if you think I’m some kind of cheap little tramp, you can bugger off right now!’

‘Aw, Molly, I’m sorry … I didn’t think. But we can’t go back to my lodgings. The old trout is already threatening to kick me out ’cause I’m a week behind in my rent.’

‘Well, that’s a shame.’ Molly was genuinely dis- appointed. ‘And we definitely can’t go back to the farmhouse.’

She suddenly grabbed him by the coat collar and kissed him full on the mouth, while an idea played on her mind. ‘It’s all right, Tom, I know where we can go.’

‘Where’s that, then?’

‘You’ll see, and you won’t be disappointed.’

As she led the way, he wrapped one arm about her shoulders. ‘You’re such an exciting woman, Molly. I should never have let you go all them years back.’ He added fondly, ‘I still love you, Molly. You’re not like other women. You’re not afraid to go for what you want, and to hell with the consequences, eh?’

‘You make me sound ruthless.’

‘Well, that’s ’cause you are! But I love you too much to let you slip away from me again. I want us to find a place of our own together. You know it’s right, Molly, ’cause me and you … we were made for each other.’

Molly laughed. ‘Me and you … living together, eh? Well, you can get that stupid idea straight out of your head because I am not about to hitch my star to a loser like you.’

‘That’s not very nice, is it? I hope you’re not playing games with me, Molly.’

Molly laughed in his face. ‘Would I do that?’

‘You might, but I hope not, because I really love you, girl … I’ve always loved you.’ He gave an almighty shiver. ‘Brr! It’s bloody cold, Molly.’

‘Walk a bit faster then.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Wait and see.’

Edging him away from the main street, she led him down a side alley. ‘Come on! We’ll cut through here.’

‘D’you love me, Molly … I mean, really love me?’ he wheedled drunkenly.

‘Stop it!’ Molly gave him a warning shove. ‘Just stop saying things like that. I know it’s only the booze talking.’

‘Aw, come on, Molly, I might be a bit tipsy but I’m telling you the truth, and now I need to know something.’

‘What’s that, then?’

‘I need to know why you went off and married the farmer when you knew how much I wanted you. I know you loved me then … and you still do. So why did you refuse my offer of marriage?’

For the longest minute, Molly’s thoughts went back to when she was young and vibrant. She had made choices back then, both good and bad.

‘First of all, I did love you. In fact, like I said, I still have strong feelings for you, bloody fool that I am! But back then I was young and desperate to build a life for myself. I had to make a calculated choice, and when the opportunity came up I chose to marry the farmer.’

‘Yes, I know all that. What I don’t know is why you chose him instead of me. Was it because you loved him more than you loved me?’

‘Leave it, Tom,’ she warned him firmly. ‘Let’s not go there, eh? It’s no good talking about something that happened a long time back. We’ve both had too much to drink tonight. Anyway, what’s done is done and it can’t be changed.’

‘Leave him, Molly!’ Tom shouted. ‘Come home with me … please. I’ll make you happy, I will!’ Surging forward, he fell clumsily against the wall, where he slithered down and sobbed like a child. ‘I miss you, Molly. That’s why I never got married. It’s why I follow you about and want to be near you. I sometimes watch you, Molly,’ he confessed. ‘I hide in the spinney and I watch you … hanging out the washing, and going about your business. I can’t get enough of you, Molly. That’s how bad it’s got. Earlier, when I saw you heading for the pub, I followed you. I needed to see you, to talk to you.’

‘What? You followed me to the pub? You crafty devil. You told me you were just passing; that you were on your way home from work and you needed a drink or two. You even acted surprised at seeing me there.’

‘I’m really sorry, Molly, but I had to see you.’

‘Well, I’m damned … you’re a bloody stalker!’ She laughed coldly. ‘You’ve been watching me and I never even knew. What next, eh? D’you know, I could get you put in jail for stalking me.’

‘Ah, but you wouldn’t, would you?’

‘I might. You never know.’

‘Leave your husband, Molly … please?’

‘Why the hell should I?’

‘Because you’re mine, Molly. You were always mine!’

‘I’m not leaving him, so you can forget that.’

‘Do you love him?’

‘No.’

‘So why do you want to be with him?’

‘I don’t need to explain my reasons to you or to anyone else.’

‘But I thought you wanted to be with me.’

‘I do.’

‘Well, now you’re confusing me. You say you don’t love him and that you love me. And yet you refuse to leave him and make a life with me. Why, Molly? Explain it to me, because I don’t understand.’

‘You don’t need to understand.’

‘Oh, but I do! If you don’t love him, why did you marry him when you could have had me?’

‘Are you absolutely sure you need to know?’

‘Just tell me.’

‘Aw, bugger it!’ She pushed him away. ‘You’re getting me all wound up. I need a fag.’

Leaning against the wall, she rummaged in her handbag and drew out a packet of Woodbines and a box of matches.

Having lit the cigarette, she took a long drag on it and blew the smoke out slowly. Then she turned back to Tom.

‘It’s true I really did love you, Tom, but you had nothing to give me … at least not by way of material things, like a home, and nice clothes, and all the trimmings. Then, when John’s father died and left him the farm, I saw where my future lay, and I went for it. I thought nothing of him – I still loved you – but he came with a farm that was worth a tidy penny, while you had nothing worthwhile to offer me. Even now, I don’t need to work if I don’t want to because he provides everything. Working gets me away from the pair of them. I do what I like with my wages, and that suits me fine.’

‘I see.’ He was shaken at her cold manner. ‘You really are a bad lot, aren’t you, Molly?’

‘I suppose … It all worked out so well, except I could never love him. To this day he doesn’t even realise how much I hate him … and the girl. When the girl appeared, I was sorely tempted to leave the pair of them, but common sense got the better of me.’

‘And you’ve stayed all these years. But you could have come to me, Molly. I had my own little place back then. I would never have turned you away.’

‘I stayed because it was part of my plan,’ she admitted. ‘I was a good wife to him.’ She paused, remembering the difficult times. ‘The girl ruined everything. She was never part of the big plan, but he adored her and so I learned to pretend.’

‘But why could you not genuinely love that innocent child?’

Molly gave him a long, inscrutable look. ‘I never wanted children. I was determined to be careful, but in spite of that, I still got pregnant. John never knew about his son, and I never told him. Instead, when I first found out I was carrying, I went to old Ma Battersby on Acament Street. She’s known for helping pregnant women who want her kind of help, and my secret was safe with her. So, as soon as I realised he’d got me up the duff, she got rid of it for me. She told me she’d made an educated guess as to its gender. I feel no guilt at having denied him a son.’

She gave a drunken, pathetic little giggle. ‘If he’d known how I got rid of his son, it would have broken his heart. Then along came another baby. Ma Battersby couldn’t do anything to help me with that one, and the girl gave me a bad time. She made me so wretched that on certain days I couldn’t even go to work. She just made me feel terrible. Suddenly, there I was, literally left holding the baby. It was almost as though John and his brat had planned it all, and I hated them both. I still do.’

Molly fell silent, while Tom Stevens reflected on what she had told him. How could he ever have fallen for this cold-hearted woman?

‘Shocked, are you?’ Molly’s shrill voice invaded his thoughts. ‘Still want me, do you?’

‘I must be a sad man,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘How in God’s name can I love a hard-hearted woman like you? It’s as if, all those years ago, you crept into my head and my heart, and now I’m only half a man without you. So what does that say about me, eh?’ He felt ashamed and guilty, and yet he still needed her so badly he could hardly breathe.

‘It sounds to me as if you’re utterly miserable on the farm. You don’t love your husband and you don’t want the girl, so why not leave it all behind? We’re both working – we could rent a place somewhere. Nothing too grand, but at least it’ll be ours.’ When she gave no answer, he asked again, ‘What d’you say, Molly?’

‘Don’t talk stupid!’ Cursing herself for having confided in him, Molly reacted viciously. ‘Do you really think I’ve gone through years of hell, only to move in with you, to live in a grotty bedsit down some godforsaken backstreet? Hell will freeze over before I do that. My plan is to brave it out. Then, when he pops his clogs – hopefully sooner rather than later – I intend getting everything. John Tanner might be a first-class farmer, but he’s not too bright when it comes to paperwork, except when it’s to do with agricultural stuff.’

She smiled knowingly, lowering her voice. ‘Everything else – the more personal, official stuff – falls to me to deal with. So I am fully aware of what he’s worth and, consequently, what I am also worth, if you know what I mean?’

‘No, I don’t know what you mean, Molly. You might need to spell it out for me. What exactly are you getting at?’

In a soft, intimate voice she explained, ‘Well, let’s just say you should not be at all surprised if amongst John Tanner’s paperwork is a copy of his last will and testament. So I now know that, thanks to his father and grandfather before him having always had property and worked hard to keep it safe, John Tanner is not only worth a bob or two, but so am I. If I bide my time, I should end up a very wealthy woman. Think about it. There’s the farmhouse itself. The many acres of prime land, and the woods beyond. The solid furniture that belonged to his parents and grandparents before them, and their every single possession – bits of family jewellery, pictures – all now worth a pretty penny. On top of that, there’s all the machinery, which has cost a fortune over the years.’

She smiled. ‘So you see, Tom, that’s why I chose him over you. Not because I loved him, but because I saw a comfortable future, and if that makes me a bitch, then so be it. You asked for the truth, and now you’ve got it.’

‘You’re a bad lot, Molly. In truth, I’m only just beginning to see how devious you can be. But even now, I still want you in my life. In fact, I’d even be willing to take on the girl.’

‘Well, I’m not! When the time comes, I have other plans for her.’

‘What do you mean? What kind of plans?’

‘I mean that when I’m rid of John Tanner, I have no intention whatsoever of raising his daughter.’

‘I don’t understand. She’s your own flesh and blood. You have no choice but to raise her.’

‘I don’t have to do any such thing. She’s ruined my life since the day I first clapped eyes on her. I have never felt an ounce of affection for her, and I never will.’

Then, to Tom’s astonishment, she murmured softly, ‘The one thing I have always regretted is not smothering her when she was too small to know anything about it.’

Silence fell heavily before Tom, becoming more sober by the minute, was urged to voice his thoughts. ‘Shame on you, Molly. That was a shockingly wicked thing to say.’

She gave no answer, but slid her arm through his and walked him forward. ‘Forget about the girl,’ she advised brightly. ‘I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of when the time comes. But for now, my love, we need to get out of the cold.’

For her, the subject was ended, but her dark confession remained strong in her companion’s mind. He realised that if he and Molly were to have a future together, he must work through his troubling thoughts and reconcile them with his conscience.

‘So if and when you do get your hands on Tanner’s Farm and everything, what plans do you have for the child?’

‘Oh, that’s easy!’ Molly replied. ‘I’ve got it all worked out. I have no motherly feelings for the girl, but my sister, Kathleen, positively dotes on her, so it should be easy enough to dump her on Kathleen, especially as she’s so unbelievably trusting. Even when it comes to choosing men, she has no idea. She chose to marry a widower who is also a good eight or nine years older than her. Patrick’s not the best-looking fella in the world either, but for reasons I will never understand she worships the ground he walks on. Mind you, to be fair, I must admit he looks after her very well. While he’s not a wealthy man, he makes good money from his two successful tack shops, selling horsey stuff to the local hunt and the many riding schools hereabouts.’

Tom was impressed. ‘Well, successful business or not, your sister obviously loves him. Good luck to them, that’s what I say. He sounds like a decent sort.’

For a fleeting moment, Molly felt the teeniest twinge of jealousy. ‘He’s OK, I suppose. He seems to make Kathleen happy, but he’s not my cup of tea. Also, he came with baggage in the shape of Harry, the teenage son who now works on the farm with John. For my money, Patrick fell on his feet when he met Kathleen.’ She gave a disapproving grunt. ‘She’s so happy it makes me cringe! Like I said, my sister is far too easy to please. So turning the girl over to her should not be a problem.’ She smiled. ‘My sister is a fool to herself, but her soft nature might well work in my favour.’

Silently congratulating herself, she then remarked grandly, ‘Trust me, Tom. It will all work out for the best, you see if it doesn’t.’ Threading her arm through his, she kissed him soundly on the cheek. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get in the warm, eh?’

‘Lead on, my dear,’ he said, thinking the child would have a good life with her doting aunt. He snuggled up to Molly. ‘I forget where we’re going. The booze must have addled my brain.’

‘Don’t be daft! You didn’t forget,’ she laughed. ‘I just never actually told you, so you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? Relax. You’ll know when we get there, and I promise we’ll be safe enough … even from John Tanner. All right?’

Tom nodded. ‘Yeah, all right … if you say so.’

‘I do. So stop your moaning, and trust me.’






While Molly and her man hurried to their destination, John Tanner hurried through the backstreets towards the Magpie.

Keenly aware of how late it was, he remained vigilant, hoping to catch sound or sight of his wayward wife.

What the devil was she playing at staying out so late? When he heard the market hall clock chiming midnight his concern heightened. Where are you, Molly? he asked himself, looking about him. Surely the pub must be closed by now, so she couldn’t still be there. Nevertheless, he decided to check.

Within minutes he was at the door of the Magpie. As he had guessed, the pub was closed and in darkness except for the small, flickering outside light over the door. With the flat of his hand he pushed hard on the door but it was obviously locked from within.

He tried the handle several times, with no luck. With no other ideas, and increasingly worried, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden panelling; all to no avail.

Lifting the cover of the letter box, he peered through. The inner door to the saloon was closed and there was no evidence of anyone inside: no laughter or chatter, and no rattling of glasses.

Stepping back, he looked up at the bedroom windows. Disappointingly, the curtains were drawn.

Hesitating, he wondered if he should shout up but he knew the publican wouldn’t thank him for waking him and his wife if they were asleep. But he was frantic to know Molly’s whereabouts, so he decided to call anyway. He was aware that the landlord might occasionally organise lock-ins, when he would invite a chosen party of friends to have a quiet drink outside of normal hours.

First he rattled the letter box again, but there was still no response from inside. Desperate, he leaned forward to call through the aperture. ‘Hello,’ he yelled, ‘it’s John Tanner. I’m sorry, but I need to know if my wife is in there with you.’

When there was still no answer, he raised his voice and shouted up for a second time: ‘It’s John Tanner, Molly’s husband. She hasn’t come home yet, and I’m worried about her. Is she in there? Hello?’

He listened for a moment but the silence thickened, so this time he pressed his face even closer to the letter box, yelling as loud as he dared: ‘I’m sorry to disturb you when it’s so late, but I’m really worried. Molly hasn’t come home, and I don’t know where she is. I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

Upstairs, Peggy Benson and her husband, Roger, woke with a start.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Leaning up on one elbow, Roger looked a sorry sight with his wild, ginger hair standing on end, and his eyes like two sunken holes in his features.

‘Dammit! Can’t a person get a decent night’s sleep after a long working day?’ Peggy grumbled. When her husband fell back and seemed to be nodding off again, she shook him violently. ‘Roger, wake up!’

He groaned as though in agony. ‘Aw, dammit! Leave me alone. It’s probably some drunk lost his way. He’ll soon get fed up if we ignore him.’

‘How the hell can we ignore him? We’d best get rid of him, or he’ll wake the entire street.’

Roger lazily opened one eye. ‘I said leave him. He’ll soon get the message. Go back to sleep, woman.’

‘I can’t!’ She shook Roger again. ‘Listen! He’s causing a commotion out there.’ She gave a long yawn. ‘Please, Roger. It’s all right for you; you’ve been out for most of the day, while I’ve been stuck behind the bar. I’m bone tired. Please, Roger! Just go down and chase the bugger off, whoever he is!’ Frustrated when he didn’t move, she gave him a hard dig with her elbow. ‘Go on then!’

‘Why can’t you “chase the bugger off”?’

‘’Cause I’m a woman, and you’re a man … or you should be.’

‘Like I say, ignore him. He’ll get fed up when he realises we’re closed.’

The shouting stopped and they lay back to catch up on their much-needed sleep. But after a few minutes the peace was broken yet again.

This time the voice was even louder. ‘It’s John Tanner. I’m looking for Molly … my wife. She hasn’t come home yet. Is she in there?’

‘Well, I never,’ Peggy said, hearing clearly this time. ‘It’s Molly Tanner’s husband. He’s asking after Molly. He says she hasn’t come home yet.’

‘Damn and bugger it, woman!’ Bleary-eyed, Roger sat up again. ‘What makes him think she’s still here? For pity’s sake, get down there and tell him we need our sleep, and that his wife left ages since.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I didn’t see her leave but she must have gone while I was fixing the light in the cellar. But do I recall you saying she left with some bloke?’

‘That’s right. They went off ages ago, both of ’em the worse for the drink.’ Now Peggy was concerned. ‘You don’t think something’s happened to them, do you? I mean, they were more than a bit jolly. What if they wandered into the road and got run over, or fell into a ditch or something?’

‘Don’t be so dramatic, woman. She’s probably gone back to her friend’s house for a good old time – lucky beggars! And there’s us, can’t even get a decent night’s sleep, let alone enjoy a bit o’ slap and tickle.’

‘Aw, you poor thing. Well, unlike you, I’ve been up since five this morning, and I need my sleep more than you do. So get down them stairs and get rid of him. Oh, and you’d best not mention how Molly left with a man on her arm.’

‘You needn’t worry about that because I am not getting involved. Please, sweetheart, you’re much better at this kind of thing than I am.’

‘But I’m so tired, Roger.’ She tried a change of tack. ‘I don’t know where Molly is any more than you do. So please, help me out here, will you?’

He turned away, saying, ‘Get down there and see him off! You can have a lie-in, and I’ll get up and oversee the brewery’s delivery.’

‘No. What if I work the late shift again tonight instead?’ She much preferred that.

‘Nope.’

‘Hmm. Call yourself a man?’ Slinking out of bed, she gave him a parting slap across the shoulders. ‘And don’t think you can have your wicked way with me when I get back.’

‘Spoilsport!’ He turned over and gave her a cheeky little wink. ‘I really hoped I might be on a promise.’

‘Well, you were wrong.’ She threw her dressing gown over her nakedness. ‘You get back to sleep. I won’t wake you because I’ll be sleeping in the spare room tonight.’ She thrust on her slippers and strode angrily across the room, banging the door behind her. ‘Lazy git.’ Her sharp cursing echoed back to him.

‘Yeah, you too!’ Making a face, he turned over again and went back to sleep.

John Tanner was relieved when he saw the lights going on. A moment or so later, the door was opened by the landlady, who looked harassed and dishevelled in her hastily thrown-on dressing gown. ‘What the devil d’you think you’re doing, banging and shouting through the letter box? We were fast asleep in bed. Don’t you know what time it is?’

‘I’m sorry,’ John said. ‘I’m looking for my wife, Molly. She hasn’t come home from work yet.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, I have no idea where she might be. She ended her shift as usual, and then she had a last drink or so with her friend. As I recall, it was past closing hour when I turned them out.’

‘Who was it, this friend?’ John asked.

‘I have no idea.’ Peggy recalled that Molly and her friend had had a relationship before Molly married John Tanner, but she decided it would be best to keep her mouth shut.

‘Did they go off together?’

‘Well, I suppose they parted company once they were out of here … I don’t know.’ She was wishing she had not even mentioned Molly Tanner’s ‘friend’.

‘What did this friend look like?’

‘Sorry, I was run off my feet … too busy to take notice.’

‘When they left, though, did you see which way they went?’

‘Nope.’ The landlady hunched her shoulders. ‘Like I said, I was run off my feet. But I’m sure she’ll be home when you get back. Now, I need to go to my bed. I’m up at five in the morning.’

John was feeling desperate. ‘So you really can’t describe this friend to me?’

Increasingly uncomfortable at being put in this position, the landlady replied with a slow shake of her head.

‘Was it a man or a woman?’

Peggy cautioned herself against getting drawn into any business of Molly’s. Although she had never actually met John Tanner before she was well aware of his reputation as a decent, hard-working man and a fine husband. However, jealousy could change the situation in a minute.

‘I really must get back to bed,’ she pleaded. ‘Like I say, she’s bound to be home by the time you get there.’

Peggy was not the only one who had been surprised at John Tanner’s marrying Molly. It was local belief that he had settled for the wrong woman, although he appeared happy and contented.

For her part, Peggy Benson tried to distance herself from the gossip. It wasn’t good for business to be known for spreading tittle-tattle, especially about her own staff. She saw Molly as a good barmaid, but possessed of a sense of her own importance.

Peggy found herself feeling for John, who was obviously not aware of his wife’s devious nature.

‘Please …’ John pressed her for an answer. ‘What did her friend look like?’

‘Oh, he was nothing special. I didn’t take too much notice. Like I said, I was run off my feet.’

‘But she was with a man – that’s what you said.’

‘Did I?’ She could have kicked herself.

‘Yes. Just now, you said, “He was nothing special.”’

‘That’s right, but I didn’t get a good look at him.’

John needed more information. ‘This man – can you recall anything else? For instance, what he was wearing?’ He had an idea, though if he were less desperate he’d have realised he was clinging on to a very faint hope. ‘Did he have a mop of fair, wavy hair, because it might well have been her sister’s husband, Patrick. She may have gone with him to see her sister, although they surely would have rung us at home first.’ He was babbling now.

‘I can’t describe the friend,’ Peggy informed him. ‘I saw him only from the back. I was busy all night, so I didn’t get a proper look at him.’

John gently insisted, ‘Try and think back. Did the man have a thick mop of fair, wavy hair?’

‘I can’t recall. Sorry.’

John had by now convinced himself that Molly must have bumped into the amiable Paddy, her brother-in-law. ‘Thank you, and I’m truly sorry to have bothered you.’ He bade Peggy good night.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful …’ She began closing the door, regretting being so impatient with him. ‘Only I’ve had one hell of a day. I really need to get some sleep before I’m on my feet again.’ She was also wishing she had been more careful with the little information she had offered.

‘So you really have no idea where they were headed?’ John was not altogether content with the outcome of their little chat.

‘No, I have no idea whatsoever,’ she assured him. ‘I’m really sorry.’ She truly sympathised with his dilemma, but was most reluctant to add anything to what she had already said. Fearing he might ask more questions, she continued closing the door. ‘Good night then.’ Feeling mean, she quickly shut and secured the door behind him.

She then hurried up the stairs and went straight to the bedroom window, ignoring her husband’s sleeping form. She peeped through the curtains to see John Tanner hurrying away down the shadowy street.

She considered him to be a well-built figure of a man, in his long dark coat and black-and-white checked flat cap. She also believed him to be a good and kindly soul although if the occasion demanded it, she sensed, he could be a man to be reckoned with.

For a few minutes more, she kept him in sight but then he turned the corner and was gone.

She now called to mind how his feckless wife had flirted shamelessly with her male companion. ‘You’re a downright fool, Molly!’ she murmured under her breath. ‘You don’t deserve a fine man like John Tanner.’






Eager to get home, John quickened his steps. He felt somewhat relieved by the landlady’s assurance that he might find Molly waiting at the farmhouse.

Hurrying from the intrusive lights of streetlamps and passing vehicles, he turned into the long lane towards home. Maybe she’s right, he thought. Perhaps Molly really will be home by now, and no doubt wondering where I am.

He wondered if Rosie might tell Molly he was out searching the streets for her. He hoped not, because Molly would be angry about that and he was in no mood for an argument.

Taking a moment to think about it, he convinced himself that Rosie wouldn’t say anything. Regrettably, Rosie and Molly were never going to be best friends. He thought it understandable, especially when one of them was gentle and giving, while the other was hard-hearted and capable of wickedness.

He was painfully aware of how Rosie had not altogether forgiven Molly for spitefully whipping that poor old horse all that time ago, although, in truth, on that particular day Molly had shown a depth to her wicked temper that he had never seen before.

Even now, it was difficult for him to forgive Molly’s actions, although in time he hoped he would.

Rosie, however, with her caring nature and huge love for the tired old gelding, might take longer to forgive her mother. If she ever did.




CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_f81c6657-1b44-5cde-8374-445d3092d823)


‘COME ON, BIG BOY!’ Feeling playful, Molly drew Tom towards the big hay barn at Tanner’s Farm. ‘Nobody ever comes in here outside of work,’ she explained. ‘We could stay here all night if needs be, and no one would ever know.’

‘I’m not sure I’d want to stay here all night.’ Tom was surprised and a little concerned that she had brought him onto the farm after all. It made him nervous. ‘I bet there are mice and even rats hiding in here … and what if someone does come in and find us?’ He stole a look behind him.

‘Trust me, there won’t be anyone here at this time of night.’ Reaching into the deep crack under the window ledge, she collected the big iron key along with a bulky torch. ‘Ah,’ she waved the key at Tom, ‘I’m glad they still hide the key there.’ With a flourish she slid the big key into the lock and eased open the heavy door. ‘Come on, hurry up!’

When they were both inside, she spread her hands across the big door, and pushed it shut. That done, she carefully directed the narrow torch-beam in order to locate the switch, then switched on the light.

‘Hmm. There’s not much more light now than there was with the torch,’ Tom commented.

‘No matter,’ Molly retorted. ‘As long as it’s just enough to guide us, that’s all we need.’ She swept the place with a long, searching look, quickly satisfied that they were the only people there. ‘See, quiet as a graveyard. We’ll be all right in here.’

Greatly relieved, Tom chuckled like a naughty schoolboy. ‘So it’s just us two lovebirds, eh?’

‘Come on, you big old softy!’

Taking him by the hand, Molly led him further into the barn. The two of them followed a well-worn path between the bales. Wide enough to get a man and barrow through, it led them to the heart of the barn.

‘Wow!’ Tom was amazed to find himself surrounded by mountainous walls of hay bales, neatly stacked almost to the roof.

With the overhead light being barely adequate, Molly kept the torch trained low to the ground as she went, keeping a wary eye on Tom, who followed nervously not far behind.

‘Good grief! Where the devil are we going, Molly?… Are you sure you closed that door tight?… Ooh, look at that; I’ve never seen so much hay all in one place. It must have taken a long time to get it all stacked and safe.’

‘You don’t know anything about farming, do you?’ Molly teased him, rolling her eyes.

‘No, I don’t, and am never likely to. I work in a factory and I live in town. There ain’t no fields there, an’ there ain’t no hay-eating animals that I know of!’

‘Well, just so you won’t be totally ignorant, I’ll explain. The hay is cut and collected off the fields towards the end of summer, and fed to the animals over the winter months. John grows some of it for his own animals, but at least half gets sold to local beef and pork farmers who don’t have enough land for growing their own fodder. That works out well for everyone: it helps the farmers to feed their herds, and it also brings in more cash for us. Once the hay is inside, it’s no trouble as long as it’s kept in the right conditions.’

‘Hey, I’m not altogether stupid, Molly. But thanks for the information.’

Proceeding into the belly of the dimly lit barn, he glanced furtively about him, as though fearing some dark shape would leap out and swallow him up. When Molly quickened her steps, he broke into a clumsy little run behind her. He was definitely not comfortable in amongst this mountain of hay. What if the bales should fall on him? What if someone was watching them right now? And what about rats – how could he be sure they were not waiting to pounce? The thought made him shiver.

Mentally shaking himself, he concentrated on Molly. He did love her, even though, through all the years, she had never once contacted him. Tonight he had engineered a meeting in the pub, and it proved only how much he had missed her and how lonely his life had been without her. Molly was his only true love, and always would be.

Looking at her now, he smiled as she led him along the meandering corridor. Molly always had a good pair of legs, he thought. She was the best-looking girl he’d ever clapped eyes on, and when he was younger it had taken him a long time to find the courage to woo her. One thing he knew for sure, though: the few years when he had been with Molly were the best of his life.

He wondered if she would ever come back to him – not just for a tumble in the hay, but to be with him for the rest of his days. That would be his heaven: he and Molly together for the remainder of their lives. If he could have just one wish it would be that maybe – just maybe – she might learn to love him again as deeply as he had loved her all these years past.

Right now, though, he needed to concentrate on the reason she had brought him here. When he dared to imagine she would give herself to him, his heart leaped in his chest. Molly had always been his woman and he needed her now more than ever.

Nevertheless, this adventure was making him highly nervous, even though they were nearing the far end of the great barn. ‘Molly, I don’t like being in here. What if somebody finds us?’

‘They won’t. Once the hay is stacked and safe, hardly anybody ever comes in here, except young Harry when he brings the hay bags from the stables to fill up.’ She paused to kiss Tom full on the mouth. ‘Besides, even if someone did come in, they would never see us back here. It’s so cosy and warm you’ll never want to leave.’ She fell into a pile of hay from a broken bale and pulled him down beside her.

‘Molly Tanner, I must be crazy getting mixed up with you again. You’re a bad devil; always was, always will be.’ Softly chuckling, he wrapped his arms about her. ‘Nobody else but you could have persuaded me in here at this time of night and, like a fool, I let you bully me. Why is it you’ve always been able to wrap me round your little finger?’ he groaned.

‘Ah, that’s because you love me … more than you could ever love any other woman. Isn’t that the truth? And you will never stop loving me … will you?’

He realised that her every word was true. ‘You must be a witch,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘So many times over the years I’ve tried to build a relationship with other women, but it has never worked out because when I look at them, it’s you I want. It’s like you’ve woven some kind of a spell over me.’

Her answer was to laugh in his face. ‘You’ll never have me,’ she said quietly. ‘No man will ever have all of me … not even my husband.’

For a fleeting moment, he was afraid. Afraid of his own feelings. Afraid that she might hurt him in so many ways. And yet he wanted her like he had never wanted anything in his entire life.

‘You’re a crazy woman,’ he whispered, ‘and I must be crazy too, because you’re right. I will always love you, Molly. I know I shouldn’t. I know you’re bad for me, and yet I can’t stop wanting you. All these years since you left me for John Tanner, I’ve thought about you every day. I’ve tried so hard to forget you. I’ve had many other women after you, but they were fleeting relationships. None of them could ever hold a candle to you.’

‘Really?’ She was deeply flattered. ‘Hmm, I never realised you still loved me that much.’

‘If I had any sense I would get you out of my life for good and all, and never think of you ever again,’ he mumbled, ‘because, much as I love you, I know how cruel you can be, but it seems I can’t help myself.’

Now that he felt safe from prying eyes, he began to relax. ‘Come here, my beauty.’ Playfully wrapping his arms about her, he drew her close to him and, to his great delight, she made no protest this time.

‘We’ll be safe enough here,’ Molly again assured him. ‘We can misbehave and enjoy ourselves for as long as we want, and no one will ever know.’ She stroked her fingers down his face, her soft voice calming his fears. ‘Trust me, we’ll be warm and cosy here. So … do you want to have your wicked way with me … or would you rather I show you the way out now?’

‘Molly, stop teasing me.’ The widening smile on his face showed his expectations. ‘It had better be worth the effort,’ he laughed.

‘Oh, it will be.’ They snuggled into the hay.

‘You were right!’ Giggling like a child, Tom gathered her to him. ‘It’s warm as toast in here.’

‘Come on then, let’s not waste precious time!’ Having helped him to take off his jacket, she threw it aside. Then, sliding her fingers under the buckle of his trouser belt, she teasingly undid it.

A moment or so later, she hurriedly tore off her outer clothes and was driving him to distraction with her wicked teasing.

Greedily drawing her into his arms again, Tom was happier than he had been at any time since their last such encounter.

Molly, too, was enjoying herself. This was fun, no strings attached – no jealous husband, no unwanted brat to see to. It took her back to a time before she had ever met John Tanner.






‘They should have been home by now.’ With her father gone for so long, Rosie felt the need to defy his instructions and look out the window, from where she hoped to see his familiar figure walking towards the house. So far, though, there was no sign of either of her parents.

As always, the faithful black Labrador remained by her side, his great squashy paws planted firmly on the windowsill and his bright, watchful eyes carefully scanning the night.

With one arm wrapped around Barney’s thick neck, and the other arm bent across the sill, Rosie focused on the only direct path to the farmhouse.

‘Daddy said he wouldn’t be long, so why isn’t he here?’ With no one else to confide in, she directed her reasoning to the dog. ‘He must have found Mother by now … unless she doesn’t want to be found.’ She felt a surge of rebellion. ‘I’ve a good mind to go out and look for them, but Daddy would be cross if I did. You would look after me, though, wouldn’t you, Barney?’





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