Journey's End (5 page)

Lucy’s smile was radiant. ‘You were never very good at hiding it.’

‘Did you think I was foolish?’

‘Never! Besides, I always loved you back. But not in the way I loved Barney.’

Adam’s face crumpled in a smile. ‘It’s an odd world,’ he said. ‘I love you; you loved Barney; and he loved Vicky. The eternal triangle.’

Letting go of him, Lucy sat back in her seat. ‘We can’t help the way we feel,’ she answered.

With her touch still tingling on his skin, Adam waited
a moment, before in a spurt of boldness he asked, ‘Marry me?’

Momentarily taken aback, Lucy was about to answer, when he stopped her. ‘You said just now you loved me, though I accept it could never be like it was with Barney. But I’ve never loved anyone else and never could. Think about it, Lucy. We’re so good together. We can talk easily to each other …’

There was so much he wanted to say.
‘We’ve known some wonderful times, Lucy,’ he remarked thoughtfully. ‘Some good, some bad. But we’ve lived through them together, always supporting each other. We make each other laugh, we’re content and easy in each other’s company. What more could we ask, at our time of life? And I’ll always take care of you, Lucy. You know that.’

Lost for words, she took a moment to consider what he was saying.
This was not the first time Adam had proposed, and she suspected it would not be the last. But this time there was a kind of desperation about his boldness, and it made her ashamed.

‘Oh Lucy, I’m so sorry.’ Wishing he had kept his silence, Adam was concerned that he had turned her against him. ‘Now I’ve spoiled everything, haven’t I?’

Lucy put his fears to rest. ‘No, you haven’t, you darling
man. We’ve always understood each other, and we’ve always been able to speak our minds. That will never change. You’ll always be very special to me.’

‘But you won’t marry me?’

‘I can’t.’

‘Never?’

Lucy had learned to count her life in minutes and weeks. ‘Never is a long time.’

Sensing a kind of acceptance, Adam thought it wise to back away from the subject of marriage. ‘I won’t mention it
again.’

Lucy chuckled. ‘Yes, you will.’

‘Do you want me to?’

Loth to mislead him, she made a suggestion. ‘Why don’t we just leave things as they are for now? When I have a change of mind, I’ll be sure to tell you. Agreed?’ She held out her hand for him to hold.

Adam was thrilled. Lucy had said, ‘when I have a change of mind’.

That was his first real glimpse of hope. ‘Agreed!’ Reaching out,
he took hold of her hand and kept it clasped in his for a moment longer than necessary, until Lucy gave him one of those reprimanding, twinkling looks that turned his toes up and set his old heart racing.

The conversation took another direction. ‘Lucy …’ He hesitated. ‘Will you let me take you back?’

‘
Back
?’ She knew what he meant, but could not bring herself to acknowledge it. ‘What do you
mean?’

‘Back there … to Jamie.’ Before she could protest, he went on, ‘For your own peace of mind, you must go back. Do you think I don’t know how it haunts you? Sometimes, when your mind wanders, I know you’re thinking of him, reliving that night, remembering every little detail. I feel your pain, Lucy. You need to be there. It isn’t enough that you’ve arranged to have his grave looked after,
and no, Bridget did not tell me about that. She didn’t have to.’

Lucy felt the weight of his every word. ‘Are you judging me?’ she whispered.

Adam shook his head. ‘I would never judge you, you know that,’ he assured her. ‘We all need to deal with things in different ways. I knew you could never come away and not have someone look after Jamie’s resting-place. Bridget was the obvious choice; she’s
loyal and honest, and she thinks of you as family.’

Lucy gave a wistful smile. ‘She’s always been there for me, and now she’s there for little Jamie. I owe her so much.’

‘I know that. And it’s a good arrangement, but it isn’t the same, is it? Forgive me, Lucy, but anyone can pay weekly visits and place the flowers there, and I know Bridget is a long and loyal friend, but she is not his mother.
You
are.’

Pausing a moment, he then went on in softer tone, ‘I know how, deep down, you long to go back. Let me take you, Lucy. Please! Let me do that much for you at least?’

‘I can’t!’

‘Why not?’

For a long moment Lucy lapsed into silence, her mind alive with the past, then in a fearful voice she asked, ‘What do you think happened to Edward Trent?’

Adam snorted with disgust. ‘We can only
hope and pray he’s already got his comeuppance. A man like that must incur enemies and loathing wherever he goes.’

‘Why do you think they never caught him after … after he …’ Her voice broke.

‘Because like all rats he knows all the dark places where he can scurry away and hide.’

‘Do you think he’s still alive?’

Adam shook his head. ‘Who knows? If there’s any justice, he’ll be rotting in the
fires of Hell where he belongs!’

When now, Lucy turned away, her face cold and set with loathing, he asked tenderly, ‘Let me take you back, my darling. It might help to lay the ghosts.’

But Lucy would not be persuaded. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ she replied quietly.

Realising that Lucy had put up the barriers and he had no chance of getting close, Adam departed, leaving her to
ponder on what he’d said.

Strolling to the dresser, Lucy held Barney’s photograph and for a time she looked at his familiar face, the strong set of his jaw, the light in those wonderful eyes, and the boyish, mischievous smile that played about his mouth. A sigh rippled through her body. So much to think about. So much guilt. And what about Vicky and the others? Should she write to them, or should
she leave well alone?

The thought of revealing Barney’s long-held secret was almost unbearable. Lucy asked him: ‘How can I tell her how you put yourself through Hell, so she and your children could have peace of mind and security?’

She lingered a moment longer, tracing the profile of his face with the tip of her finger, and turning the whole idea over in her mind. ‘If the truth
must
be told,
I pray they will find the strength to deal with it,’ she whispered.

As she walked away, Lucy turned back to the photo one last time. She thought of those on the other side of the Atlantic, and at last she knew what must be done. ‘I know I will have to tell them, Barney,’ she said out loud, ‘and I know it will come as a terrible shock. If I had it in my power, I would make it less painful for
them.’ Her heart sank. ‘But it’s not.’

Squaring her shoulders, she searched inside herself for an answer, but there was none. ‘They would need to find the strength to live with it.’ The smallest hint of bitterness shaped her words.
‘Just as we did, all those long years ago.’

Outside, Elsie was chatting with the coalman, conveniently forgetting she was in a rush and making him chuckle as always.
‘I saw you in front as you came down the lane,’ she told him. ‘I might have begged a lift only you were too far away.’

A bumbling, homely sort with a wonky shoulder got from years of carrying heavy bags, the coalman joked, ‘So you don’t mind your arse being covered in coaldust then?’

‘Not really, no,’ Elsie replied. ‘I might tell yer, I’ve had worse than that in my time. But I’ve never had a
ride in a coalcart.’

‘An’ would you enjoy two grown men fighting over yer?’

‘Hmh? That’ll be the day’

‘What would your Charlie say, if I let you sit on my cart?’

Elsie laughed. ‘I’ve no idea, but I’m willing if you are.’

‘I’d watch what you say if I were you.’ The coalman gave a naughty wink. ‘There’s many a man might take advantage of a remark like that.’

‘You behave yerself, Bert Peters!’
Elsie chided. ‘I’m too old in the tooth to be flirting with the likes of you – and besides, if I were to pounce on you now, you’d run a mile. Don’t deny it!’

Bert roared with laughter. ‘Aye, an’ if you
were
to pounce on me now, I’d more likely collapse. I’ve carried that many bags o’ coal today, me legs ’ave gone.’

Back in Knudsden House, Lucy heard their shrieks of laughter echo across the
valley, and couldn’t help but smile. The world might be crumbling round your ears, she thought, but somehow, life went on.

Her thoughts returned to what Adam had said earlier, and her mind was made up.

Suddenly she knew what she must do. She looked up to the heavens, a deep yearning for peace flooding her heart. ‘I will go back and face the demons,’ she declared. ‘Maybe then, I can find some
kind of peace.’

It would not be easy, she knew that. It had been a lifetime since she had travelled that particular road. When she left that familiar and much-loved place, she left behind a wealth of laughter, sun-filled days and happiness. The pain she took with her, for it had never gone away.

Her train of thought turned to the monster who had snuffed out her baby’s life.

‘Edward Trent, may
you rot in Hell for what you did! You murdered your own son!’

She had no idea where he was. After the tragedy he had fled into the darkness of the night, and was never heard of again.

Many times over the years, Lucy had prayed that, somehow, he had been made to pay for the evil thing he did.

In the beginning, the hatred had eaten into her very soul, but now as the years caught up with her,
after World War Two had changed everybody’s lives forever, she had learned not to let it rule her life. By contrast, with the passing of time, memories of Barney and the personal sacrifice he had made grew ever stronger; as did the need to put things right before it was too late.

She thought of how it had been, and her heart was sore. ‘I’m going back, Barney,’ she murmured. ‘Then I’m going to
tell it all, to try and bring a measure of peace to Vicky, and the children.’

First, though, there was someone she needed to see.

Chapter 4

T
HE GOVERNOR WAS
busy poring over official documents when the knock came on the door. ‘Yes, who is it?’

The prison officer told him, ‘I’ve got Carter with me now, sir.’

At once the Governor’s face betrayed his repugnance. ‘Right! Let’s have him.’

Momentarily disappearing, the prison officer threw open the door and thrusting Edward Carter inside, positioned him before the desk. ‘All
right, Carter! Stand up straight!’ he growled. Digging him in the back with the flat of his hand, he pushed the prisoner forward.

For a seemingly long time, the Governor remained in his seat, his head bent and his long bony finger flicking over the pages of his document. He neither spoke nor looked up.

When, beginning to tire, the prisoner lolled to one side, his hands sliding deep into his
pockets, he was caught up short by another dig in the back, this time rougher and more meaningful.

Without raising his head, the Governor peered over his rimless spectacles. ‘Remember where you are, Carter. Hands out of your pockets … NOW!’ he ordered.

Wary of this new Governor, who had already proved himself to be a harsh disciplinarian, the man quickly did as he was told. After all, he had
secrets to hide. Moreover, he had almost served his time and did not want to jeopardise his date of release.

Intending to unnerve the prisoner, the Governor continued to stare at him, his observant gaze taking in every detail of the man: the strong, stocky build, the inherent arrogance, the thick shock of greying hair and the deeply-etched lines on the once-young and handsome face.

Here was
a puzzle, he thought. Carter was a devious cunning sort, capable of anything, a man seemingly without a background; though if it was ever uncovered, it would probably betray him as an evil and merciless creature.

While the Governor studied the prisoner, the prisoner did the same in return. He observed the lank dark hair and the small beady eyes behind the spectacles; the long sinuous fingers
now drumming on the desktop, racking his nerves and sending a ripple of murderous intent through his every sense. There were many men inside this prison he would like to strangle, but the greatest pleasure would come from feeling his hands round the Governor’s slender white throat.

His train of thought was abruptly broken as the Governor smiled directly into his face. ‘You’d like to kill me,
wouldn’t you, Carter?’ he asked tantalisingly. ‘You’d love to get your two big hands round my throat and squeeze the life out of me. I’m right, aren’t I? You hate me so much you can taste it.’

Gulping so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the prisoner lowered his gaze, his thoughts going wild. Jesus! How did he know that? He must be a bloody mind-reader … but he was right. The prospect
of choking him until he stopped breathing filled him with excitement.

The scraping of a chair told him the Governor was standing up. He could feel the coldness of his gaze as it fell on him. ‘Look at me, Carter.’ The sound of air being drawn through his nose was oddly loud in that warm, uncomfortable room. ‘LOOK AT ME, I SAY!’

Carter looked up. ‘Sir!’

The Governor came close, so close his smoke-stained
breath fanned the prisoner’s face. ‘You broke both his legs, Carter.’ The voice was almost tender. ‘You went into the showers and broke both his legs. Why would you do a thing like that?’

The big man looked up. ‘I didn’t do it. I never touched him.’

‘Liar!’

‘No, sir. I’m no liar.’

‘So you say.’ The Governor put his hands behind his back and strolled about for a while, eventually coming up
behind the prisoner. ‘If
you
didn’t do it, who did?’

‘Don’t know, sir. It pays to keep yourself to yourself in this place. All I know is, it weren’t me.’

‘You were seen.’

‘No, sir. It weren’t nothing to do with me.’

‘There was a witness, Carter! You were seen … slithering into the space beside him. One minute he was washing, and the next he was writhing on the floor and you were gone.’

‘No,
sir!’ As he glanced up, rage fired his eyes. If ever he found out who had grassed on him, he’d slit their throat without a second thought. ‘Who was it, sir? Who lied about it being me?’