A Well Kept Secret (39 page)

“What are you going to do?” she asked at last. “I mean, this whole business isn’t something you are going to allow to rest is it?”

“No, I have to try and resolve matters if I can,” he admitted.

“So you intend going to the police?”

“No, at least, not yet; I don’t have anything for them to go on, do I? It is all suspicion, innuendo, and coincidence. No, I thought maybe I would go back into Wellworthy tomorrow and have another word with my late uncle’s solicitor, then perhaps with Dr Rawlinson, I may try and track down the current whereabouts of Sergeant Burton, and maybe I’ll even have another chat with that fount of all gossip, Syd, the landlord of the ‘Rose and Crown’!”

“There’s one other place I’ve thought of that might be helpful,” she said. “It’s a long shot, but you never know.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“It is something that Mrs Jefferson once said to me; I’ve only just thought about it. It was something in the local paper about some sort of motor-fraud that made her say it. She laughed at the time, and said that the police really ought to go for the real crook. I asked her to whom she was referring, and she said; ‘Old man Castleman, that’s who!’ She meant a used car dealer who has his premises down in Barn Lane in Wellworthy. According to her, he had his finger in every dodgy car deal in the area. I expect the old man is dead now but maybe his son is still in the business. Like I said, it’s a long shot, yet if my father’s car vanished, maybe they might just have an idea of what happened to it?”

“It’s certainly a thought; yes,” he agreed. “It is in fact, now that I think about it, a very good thought! Even if this Castleman or his son didn’t have a hand in disposing of it personally, they might just know somebody who knows something about it. Yes, I’ll definitely tack that onto my list for tomorrow.”

He stood up as he finished speaking, and poured her out another glass of wine. She accepted it gratefully, and he resumed his own seat, feeling sad that he was going to have to hit her with even more bad news.

“I’m afraid there is something else you need to know,” he said. “I have been talking to my solicitor; he was the one who gave me the details of the double murder, and who also supplied the details of your father’s past. I’m afraid he was also able to confirm that your husband
has
been released from prison; therefore there can be little doubt that it was him that tried to break in here. At least it proves that I was right to insist that you move into the house for the time being.”

He caught her eye as she spoke, and he saw the tiniest flicker of despair as his words went home.

“Yes, I feared it was him,” she sighed, resting her glass on the small occasional table situated by her chair. “I tried to force myself to believe that it was only my imagination; that he was still safely locked away. I suppose in my bones I knew it was him. That cigarette end; it was the brand he always smokes. I was a fool to think that I could ever escape him; it is now only a matter of time before he carries out his threat.”

“He is never going to lay a hand on you whilst I draw breath,” Martin assured her in a very positive manner, “and whilst we are on the subject; I genuinely believe you should come clean with the police, and tell them everything you have been through, the threats he has made against you, and that you are in fear of what the man may try to do. They will pick him up straight away.”

“And what good will that do?” she asked in a hopeless tone of voice. “Even if they do pick him up, what can I prove? Sooner or later he will be released again. Now that he knows where I am, I will be spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to strike.”

“June, if he so much as tries anything whilst I’m around, I promise you that it will be the last thing he will ever do.”

She looked up at him, and smiled wanly. “That’s the trouble, isn’t it?” she said in a hopeless sort of voice, “No matter how good your intentions, the simple truth is that you cannot be ‘around’ all the time. No, I know what he’s like; he will bide his time and he will strike when he is ready. I'm as good as dead Martin. I suppose I always knew in my heart I could never really escape.”

He crouched forward, and took her hands in his to impress upon her the sincerity of what he was saying.

“I could be at your side for ever, if you will have me,” he said quietly. “June, you would make me the happiest man alive if only you would agree; I want you to be my wife.”

“Oh Martin,” she cried out in despair. “You just don’t know what you are saying!”

“But I
do
! I love you, June. I never thought I could love another person as much as I loved Alicia, but I do! We can easily get a divorce for you from that monster who calls himself your husband, and you need never be in fear of him again, I promise you that!”

She shrugged her shoulders as if in total despair. “But don’t you see?” she exclaimed. “Even if I was free of him, I couldn’t be a true wife to you? I couldn’t deny you, yet you would know that I was curling up inside as you approached me. Just how long could you cope with that; how long could I cope with wanting you as much as I do, yet fearing you at the same time? Answer me that if you can!”

“I know all about your problem,” he said earnestly. “I’ve told you, I can wait for as long as it takes. Time will heal, and the day will dawn when you will know at last you are free of the past, and on that day we could be together in every sense of the word.”

“Oh, if only I could believe that!”

“All you need to do is to take it one step at a time. Marriage is about trust, not about rights. We need never marry until you genuinely want to, nor need you share my bed until it is what you want to do. Love isn’t just about sex, it is about companionship, trust, sympathy, understanding, and above all, it is about sharing both the joys and trials of life. I want to share yours, just as I hope you will want to share mine, I want to help you, I want to protect you, I want to care for you, I want us to be a part of each other. It is all part of what I call love.”

There were tears in her eyes, and suddenly she stood up and paced around the room, wringing her hands and shaking her head as she strove to control her conflicting emotions. He stayed where he was, aware of the turmoil occurring inside her, yet powerless to help. She looked so helpless and lost that his heart yearned to protect and comfort her, yet in a way knowing that he was the very essence of the problem she was fighting. In her own way she loved him; of that he was sure, yet all the years of abuse she had suffered were still an insuperable barrier between them. He knew that his only hope was to be patient, to allow her to gradually come to terms with life, to come to him in her own time.

Suddenly, she stopped her pacing, and turned to look at him, the tears still coursing down her face. He stood up slowly, facing her, waiting. Seconds passed, and then she walked across the room directly towards him. She came right up to him, flung her arms around him, bent her face up to his and kissed him. She kissed him with a fierceness that bespoke of the warring factions deep within her heart. He placed his own arms about her and returned that kiss, his heart soaring within his breast as he felt that at last the barriers were crumbling.

And then without a word she broke free of his embrace and almost ran from the room. Without a backward glance she hurried out of the room and he heard her footsteps fading away as she ran up the stairs. Moments later he heard a door close and he knew that she had fled to the safety of her own room. He stared at the door and belatedly wondered if he had gained a small victory in his fight to help her, or whether that kiss had been the signal that he had finally lost her in spite of everything.

Martin stayed in the lounge for more than hour in the hope that she might return, yet the house remained silent. Eventually he accepted that she wouldn’t come back and with a heavy heart he did a last round of the house before retiring to his own room. When finally he reached his bed, he lay quiet, knowing that once again sleep would be a long time in coming. He tossed and turned first one-way and then another, and all the time his heart yearned for June. Eventually he fell into an uneasy doze. How long he had lain there like that he didn’t know but he suddenly became aware that he was not alone. He opened his eyes and looked up. Once again the unmistakable form of June was visible, yet this time she wasn’t by the door, she was standing by his bedside. It was so unexpected that he briefly wondered if he was dreaming.

“Martin,” she whispered softly and yet urgently, “are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking of what you said. You know, taking it a step at a time?”

“I’m glad.”

“I’ve been pacing up and down in my room for hours; I suddenly knew that if I stayed there any longer I would go mad. I just had to come; please don’t think badly of me?”

“I could never do that.”

“I know that I have no choice; I
have
to make a stand some time,” she whispered, yet the strain and tension in her muted voice was all too apparent. “I simply can’t go on living as I have been; I really can’t!”

“I do understand,” he responded gently.

“Martin, I trust you as I would never trust another. I kept on hearing you say those words ‘one step at a time.’ Please tell me honestly; did you really mean what you said?”

“Oh June, of course I did, there is no need to hurry anything is there?”

She hesitated, and he could sense the dreadful turmoil still seething within her. In a way, she looked like a child beset by the terrors of the night, and he yearned to comfort her in her agony.

“Martin,” she suddenly cried aloud in anguish, “I’m going through hell, I really am! I want you so much I could cry, and yet I fear you with a sense of horror I cannot begin to describe!”

“I know,” he whispered, “and that sense of longing hurts me nearly as much as it hurts you.
 
June, if you can think of anything I can do or say that will help to make the pain go away, tell me.”

She hesitated, then blurted out; “Can I share your bed?”

It wasn’t at all what he had expected her to say, and for the briefest of moments it startled him, yet instinctively he knew that this was going to be the crucial moment in his hopes for her.

“You never have any need to ask,” he assured her quietly, “you must know that you can join me whenever you really want to?”

“I don’t want sex,” she protested quickly. “Not yet, I can’t cope; I need to see if I can actually share a bed with you without fleeing in panic. It is the first step; I have to see if I can do it. It is asking too much I know, but it
is
what you said?”

“I understand that.”

“I just want to be near you, to know you’re there. Can we do that?”

“June, I promise that you will be safe with me; surely you must believe that?”

“I do, yet it will be so hard for you, and I know am being completely unreasonable to expect so much. Are you really sure?”

For answer he folded the covers back to make space for her. She hesitated for just a moment, and then shed her dressing gown on the floor and stood there in a thin nylon nightdress that shimmered as she moved. She slid in beside him, and he pulled the covers over her gently.

“Hold me,” she whispered, drawing closer to him. “just hold me, please?”

He slid his arm round her, and she snuggled even closer, and he could feel the warmth of her body pressing against his. She was trembling and quivering, but he made no move, even though he wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman since Alicia had died. He held her gently to his breast, soothing her, murmuring encouragingly to her that she was safe and secure, and gradually their trembling died down and he felt her beginning to relax. Her breathing slowly quietened down, and presently they slept.

When Martin woke the following morning his first reaction to the events of the night was to suspect that he had been dreaming because he was completely alone in the bed. He glanced swiftly all round, but there was no sign of her, nor any indication that she had ever been there. Just for a few moments he was inclined to believe that he had been indulging in wishful thinking, and then in his heart he knew that the events of the previous night had really happened. He lay back on the pillow, thinking of the whole experience, and the emotions it had evoked within him. If he was honest, his body had cried out for her but he had been as good as his word, and beyond having his arm protectively around her, there had been no suggestion on his part of attempting further intimacy. It was, as she had said, one small step, one that he hoped would lead to other things. As his mind became more fully alert the question that arose was simple; would she still feel the same way about the situation between them in the cool light of a new day?

It was still quite early, and he wondered if she had slipped back to her own room in the night, afraid to face him as he awoke? It was pointless speculation, yet somehow it felt it unlikely. It must have cost her a great deal of determination to do what she did, and given the little he knew of her nature he felt reasonably certain it was unlikely that having gone as far as she had she would subsequently change her mind completely. There was only one way to find out for sure, and with that thought in his head he rose, showered, dressed, and went down stairs quietly.
 
As he drew near to the kitchen he heard voices, and on opening the door he saw two hungry teenagers at the table eating an enormous breakfast that had so obviously been cooked for them by June.

“Morning dad,” Beverley called out as he came into the room, “would you believe, we actually saw a vixen last night, with two cubs?”

“I even got some pictures of them!” Georgie exclaimed, anxious not to be outdone by her friend in boasting of her achievements, “and one of an owl, too!”

“Huh, but who got frightened by a bat?” Beverley snorted.

“I was
not
frightened!”

“I’m sure you both had an exciting night,” Martin said jovially, “and I must say I’m relieved you didn’t actually fall out of the tree! Good morning June.”

“Oh
dad
, we’re not kids!” Beverley pouted.

“Good morning Martin,” June said, giving him a small brief smile of welcome that thrilled his heart. “I came down early because I thought they would be hungry. Seems it was as well that I did; they were already at the door when I came in, and this is their second breakfast!”

“You two,” said Martin with great conviction, “will finish up as
fat
as pigs at this rate!”

“That’s not our fault,” Beverley protested. “June’s such a fab cook; you really ought to take her home dad, before she escapes!”

He tried not to show that her innocent remark had gone very deep, and in a way he was glad that at that moment June wasn’t actually looking at him.

“Now, how can I possibly do a thing like that,” he asked, doing his best to treat the matter lightly, “June is a very respectable married woman; you should know better, young lady!”

“I was only joking,” Beverley said “Sorry!”

June turned as she spoke, and Martin could not avoid catching her eye. It was difficult to read her expression, but he wondered just what she made of it all, and whether the innocent prattle of the youngsters might make her wish she hadn’t gone as far as she had. He seated himself at the table, and they consumed a happy meal together before the girls decided that as it was such a lovely sunny day they would go off for a bike ride. Once they had vanished from sight, June poured out fresh coffee and settled down in the chair on the far side of the table.

“About last night,” she ventured a bit awkwardly. “I don’t know what came over me, and I’m now feeling horribly guilty about putting you in such a position; I’m really sorry.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his as he had done in the past.

“June, as I have said to you before, there is absolutely nothing to be sorry about. Personally, I’m not in the least sorry. On the contrary, I feel honoured that you can now trust me that much.”

She looked at him with her eyes full of unspoken thoughts.

“You are always so kind and patient,” she said at last. “I always thought that there was no man I could trust more than your uncle, but last night proved me wrong. It takes a very special sort of man to have a woman creep into his bed in the middle of the night, a woman he has already expressed a desire to possess, and still to deny himself simply because that is what she has asked of him. I knew the risk I was taking, and if you had tried, I would have had no one to blame than myself. I would have been terribly sad of course, yet I would not have resisted you, because resistance has been beaten out of me long since.” She paused, and then looked him full in the eye as she added; “Martin, we have both promised to be honest with each other, so I have to admit to you that if that had happened, I would not be here this morning. It would have broken my heart to go, but I would have gone, and that, well, that would have been the end of everything.”

“I know,” he answered simply, “and I would have expected it. I guess I’m a bit old-fashioned really; when I give my word I always abide by it.”

“And I respect you for it,” she said, and looked down at her hands as she sought for the right words in order to continue. “If you want the honest truth, I love you Martin, utterly and hopelessly, and last night only served to cement that feeling within my heart. With your help, I
will
overcome this dread that life had thrust into me. I will fight until I am free of it, so that in the end I can be yours in every sense.”

“I know you will; and when the time is right you will win, I’m certain of it.”

“I want you to know that I wasn’t offended by what your daughter said,” she added after a few moments silence. “Either what I accidentally overheard last night or she said this morning. Youngsters often come right out with things that older people find difficult to express. If you want the truth, her words made me take stock of my life; to ask myself what I wanted, what I had, and most importantly of all, what I can so easily lose and never regain. I promise you; the thought of losing you and Beverley is the only spur I need. If you truly still want me, then with your help, I
know
I will make it.”

“Of course you will,” he said encouragingly, “because there is no need for you to ever ask if I still want you. Don’t you understand? I came to this house believing that my life was over; I had been grieving for the loss of my wife to the extent that I was losing the will to live. Everyone has been warning me that if I didn’t let up then I was heading for a complete breakdown. I’ll even admit that I had thought of suicide more than once, and it was only the thought of leaving Beverley that stayed my hand. You have shown me how wrong I was, you have managed to do what no other person has been capable of; you have given me a reason to want to go on living.”

“Oh, Martin,” she whispered, and again there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

“As soon as you give me the word,” he added quickly, frightened that if he waited too long he would lose the courage of his convictions, “I’ll instruct Charles to commence divorce proceedings against the animal you are still tied to, and you mustn’t worry about a thing, because I will take care of everything. Even if in the end you decide that you want nothing more of me than my help, it will always be there for you.”

She sighed and cast her eyes down, trying to hide the tears that were now trickling down her cheeks

“You are so good to me I just don’t know what to say,” she said in a low, emotion-choked voice, “I can scarcely believe that after all these years my life is really beginning to change?”

“Oh, it is going to change all right, and the changes are starting right away,” he said briskly in an effort to stem her tears, “Look, as soon as we are finished in here, you are coming with me into Wellworthy while I do all this checking-up we have been talking about.”

“Come into Wellworthy?” she echoed, clearly startled by the idea, “but, what about lunch?”

“We can lunch out.”

“But I’m not dressed for it?”

“That’s a woman’s excuse, and you know it! I’ll come with you to the flat, and you can get ready while I look at a paper or something!”

“What about the girls, they will be looking for lunch as well?”

“Do they have their mobile phones with them?”

“Yes; at least, I think so.”

“Right, then perhaps you wouldn’t mind phoning Beverley and tell her to be back here by, let’s say, ten-thirty, so that they can come with us?”

Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she stood up from the table. “Why not,” she exclaimed. “It’s a lovely day, and suddenly, I don’t fear anything anymore! Why
shouldn't
the changes start right away? I’ll just put all this in the dishwasher and then I’ll phone the girls!”

“Good, you do that,” he rejoined smartly, secretly pleased to see how her face had suddenly lit up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and then we will go across to the flat so that you can deck yourself out in all your finery. We will all have lunch at the ‘Rose and Crown’; how’s that?”

“It’s a deal!”

As Martin went up to his own room he realised that he was whistling! He hadn’t whistled at all since Alicia had died, and suddenly the depression that had been his constant companion for so long lifted. He neither understood nor cared how it was possible for a man to love two women so completely; he only knew that he felt better now than he had since the day that Alicia had died. He now accepted without question that June was all he now wanted in a wife, and somehow, he knew that if Alicia could only speak to him from whatever part of heaven she was resting in, she would approve! When he returned down stairs a short while later, June had just emerged from the kitchen and was standing in the hall waiting for him. Martin didn’t really think that there was much chance of Paul Collins trying anything in broad daylight, yet he was determined that from now on he would be taking no chances.

“I’ve phoned the girls,” she said as he reached the foot of the stairs. “They will be back here before ten-thirty. I’ve told them that their only hope of a meal at lunchtime is to come back and get cleaned up first.”

“A wise precaution,” he agreed. “So, if you are ready, we will cross over to the flat, and then you can do whatever women do when they want to make themselves look even more attractive than they already are.”

He glanced at her as she stood there in jeans and tee shirt, and then added, “Mind you, you look good enough to eat already!”

“That would spoil your lunch,” she remarked solemnly, but from her expression he could tell that his spontaneous compliment had gone down well.

They strolled leisurely over to the flat in the warm sunshine, and this time Martin felt no sense of secret guilt upon venturing into her personal domain. He glanced round as they crossed the few yards from the front door of the house to the garage and saw no-one about, nor did he really expect to. Within himself he felt quite sure that within a day or two at the most June would agree for him to phone the police and get the man picked up, and the need for constant vigilance would then be over.

It was a little stuffy inside the flat, and June flung open some windows for ventilation.

“There are some magazines on the table there,” she said. “I won’t be long.”

With that she disappeared into her bedroom leaving him to his own devices. He glanced briefly at the magazines, but they were all women’s periodicals containing little that caught his attention. He stood up from the chair he had settled in on entering the flat and strolled around, looking at the titles of a few books reposing on a small table before examining the prints on the wall that he had observed during his first visit.

There was “Sunrise on Dartmoor,” which showed a rather bleak landscape with a rather dilapidated cottage off to one side; mostly shrouded in mist, but with evidence of the sun rising to one side of the background. Then there was “The Weald in Spring”, which depicted rolling Down-land, with scattered farms and distant woodland, and a stream meandering towards the foreground. There was an angler sitting in the shade of the tree to the right of the picture, presumably waiting for a nibble from a trout or something similar. “The Victorian Farmyard” was probably the most interesting of the four prints, showing in some detail the open door of a barn, with plough shears and other farming impedimenta scattered around. There were a number of chickens in the foreground, and a rather cute looking girl in period costume feeding them.