Wiping his beer mugs clean, the barman at the Darwen Hotel cast a curious eye over Jack. ‘I thought you were leaving us today?’ A big, round fellow with a gammy leg, he took delight in studying people. He prided himself on being able to guess a body’s business but, to his frustration, Jack was an impossible nut to crack. ‘Finished here then, have you?’ he asked, thinking there was still time to win him over.
Secretive as ever, Jack shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘So it’s not gone as well as you expected then… the reason for your visit to these parts, I mean?’
‘Doesn’t seem like it, no.’
Ever optimistic, the barman persisted. ‘Er… you never did say what kind of business you were in?’
‘That’s right.’ Taking a deep gulp of his shandy, Jack glanced towards the door. ‘You say there’s been nobody looking for me the whole time I’ve been out?’ He had been sure Amy would be waiting for him when he got back from his errand.
Sniffing, the barman shook his head. ‘You’ll have to ask at reception, but I’ve seen nobody,’ he answered. ‘You weren’t gone all that long anyway.’
‘I’m off up to my room.’ Jack shoved the price of his shandy across the counter and instructed, ‘If anybody does ask after me, will you send them straight up?’
‘Man or woman?’ This bloke obviously never gave up.
‘Whoever.’ Jack wouldn’t give this nosy bugger an inch. Besides, if anybody did come here after him, it would only be Amy, because nobody else knew where he was.
As he went upstairs, it crossed his mind that, somehow, Frank might have learned of his whereabouts. ‘If that scum comes after me, I’ll be ready for him,’ he muttered grimly. ‘Happen it might be best to have it out with him once and for all!’ But he didn’t want Amy caught in the middle. To his mind, she’d suffered enough at Frank’s hands.
As she hurried from the tram stop, her legs as weak as water, Amy also had Frank on her mind. ‘What if he finds us?’ She was talking aloud, oblivious to those who turned to stare at her. ‘What if he comes after us? Oh, dear God, he’d kill us both with his bare hands!’ For all his violence, she had never really been afraid of Frank. But now, as she imagined the consequences of her and Jack being together, the fear was like a hard fist inside her.
Outside the Darwen Hotel, she paused, glancing up and down, terrified in case she’d been followed. ‘Pull yourself together, Amy, lass,’ she told herself. ‘How could he know?’ Even so, she was frantic. Happen it might be best if she turned round and went straight home.
Instinctively, she turned, before his voice called her back.
‘Amy!’
Closing her eyes she gave silent thanks. When he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her towards him, the tears broke loose and ran unheeded down her face. ‘Oh Jack, I didn’t know what to do,’ she sobbed. ‘I just didn’t know what to do.’
She fell into his arms and he folded her to him. ‘It’s all right now,’ he said. ‘I have you safe.’
Taking her inside, he collected his portmanteau from the barman. ‘How much do I owe you?’ he asked.
‘Four pound ten shilling.’
Counting out the money, Jack noticed the barman staring at Amy. ‘Hmh! Don’t blame you for waiting for that one,’ the man said cheekily. ‘She’s not a bad-looking sort.’ Winking at Jack, he grabbed up the cash and rang it into the till.
Leaning over the bar, Jack caught him by the scruff of his neck. ‘You’re talking about a lady!’ he warned. ‘What’s more, you never saw her,’ he said threateningly. ‘Do I make myself clear?’
Finding it difficult to talk with his shirt collar pulled tight round his neck, the barman nodded.
Letting him loose, Jack took another ten-shilling note from his wallet and placed it on the bar. ‘If anybody comes looking… you never saw her.’
The man looked at Jack’s fiery eyes and his clenched fist. ‘Anything you say, sir,’ he said nervously. ‘I didn’t see nothing and nobody.’
Jack nodded. ‘I know your face, and I know where to find you, should your tongue run away with you. Remember that, and keep your mouth shut!’
Leaving the barman with the impression that Jack Mason was a man to be reckoned with, he took Amy by the arm and together they walked away from the pub and into a cafe on the corner of Rosamund Street. Here he asked the girl behind the counter for two full English breakfasts.
‘I bet you haven’t eaten a thing this morning, am I right?’ he teased Amy.
She smiled. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Because I haven’t either,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been living on my nerves, not sure whether you’d come or whether you wouldn’t.’ Placing his two hands round her face, he kissed her tenderly. ‘I love you, Amy,’ he murmured. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
Amy nodded. ‘I love you, too,’ she said, and held his hands so tight he thought she would never let go.
Still nervous in case they were seen by someone she knew, Amy only pecked at her food. ‘Where will we go, Jack?’ she wanted to know.
‘We’re going to my home. I have a place in Bedford, down in the south. I hope you’ll like it, Amy.’
‘Will Frank be able to track us down there?’ Her voice shook, and he knew the terror in her.
‘I don’t think so,’ he replied softly. ‘And even if he does, you’ve no need to be frightened. I can deal with Frank Tattersall. But I’ll promise you one thing: he’ll never hurt you again, not as long as I live!’
Breakfast done with, they climbed into Jack’s car and sat holding hands in the front like two young lovers.
‘I can’t believe I’m going away from Blackburn with you beside me.’ Jack had dreamed of this for so long, and now it was reality. He thought himself the luckiest man in the world.
‘Jack?’ Amy turned her pensive gaze on him.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’
‘Won’t you change your mind… about the children?’
Slowly, agonisingly, he shook his head. ‘I can’t.’
Leaning back in her seat, Amy let her thoughts wander to the children. In her mind’s eye she could see little Eddie, running round the parlour, his napkin round his ankles; and Bertha, laughing, always laughing. Then there was Milly and Georgie – and Molly. Oh Molly, what have I done to you?
But in spite of her sorrow, she could never go back. Not now she had found the courage to leave.
‘Amy?’ Seeing her distress, Jack’s heart went out to her. ‘Look at me, darling.’
When her brown eyes were uplifted to his, he affirmed his promise, but this time he wisely qualified it with, ‘While I have money, I won’t see them go without.’
Opening her heart to him, she asked, her voice raw, ‘Am I a selfish woman, Jack? Am I so wicked to leave them behind?’
Regarding her now, seeing how thin and pale she was, and how the pain of what Frank had done to her had dulled her pretty eyes and made her so desperate, he could hardly bear it. ‘There isn’t a selfish, wicked bone in your body,’ he said, ‘otherwise you’d have left him long since. Think about it, Amy. If you went back now, what would become of you?’
Amy knew already, for hadn’t she thought of it time and again, wishing there was an escape, hoping Frank would die and she might make some sort of a life without him.
In a faltering tone, she gave Jack his answer. ‘I’d be an old woman before my time. The same life, the same Frank. With my spirit shrinking day after day, until there was nothing left.’
With a shock, she suddenly saw what he was getting at. ‘I’d be no use to the children then, would I?’ she said. ‘That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Jack?’
His answer was to take her in his arms. Grateful to be in a safe place at last, Amy snuggled up to him. It was so comforting to be in a man’s arms, knowing it was love that made him want to hold her. It was good not to dread what might come next and, knowing Jack, never again to be thrashed to within an inch of her life for daring to say ‘no’.
Despite her joy, she was engulfed with guilt over the children, and Molly. Especially Molly, because she was left to carry a burden not of her own making.
Jack had said there was not a selfish or wicked bone in her body, but nothing had been said about her being a coward. For that was exactly what she was. Her cowardice had robbed a lovely young woman, of many carefree years, and maybe the chance to be happy in a life of her own.
As Jack drove down the country roads, getting closer to home with every mile, he felt a deep contentment at Amy’s presence by his side.
To his mind he had done the right thing in plucking her from a life of misery with Frank Tattersall. Yes, he regretted the fact that she had left her children behind, but he had been straight with her right from the start. He was not a man to have brats running round his feet. It wasn’t that he disliked them, just that he simply couldn’t cope with their boisterousness. He made no pretence about that.
All the same, he did feel a rush of guilt about Amy’s eldest daughter, Molly, who had been forced to take on the chaos her mother had left behind.
He consoled himself with the fact that she was only eighteen, with time and energy to spare. Then there was the fact that she would not have to endure Frank Tattersall in the same way her mother had.
He told himself that and felt a little easier.
Molly was amazed to learn that her mother had left the hospital, and even more astonished to be given the letter. ‘I told her we could let you know she’d gone home,’ the sister, who was still on duty, said. ‘But she was adamant about leaving you the note.’
Molly thanked her, and in the privacy of the outer hall, she opened the letter and read it. With each word her heart sank inside her. She could not believe what she was reading. Dear God! It was like her mam had lost her mind. Afraid and confused, she folded the letter and slid it into her pocket.
Returning to the sister’s office, she said heatedly, ‘You had no right to let her out. She’s not well enough.’
‘This is a hospital, not a prison,’ the sister told her patiently. ‘We can’t force anyone to stay against their will. As long as they put their signature to this form, they’re free to leave – although of course we do try to satisfy ourselves they are in no immediate danger.’
‘Oh, and how did you do that in my mam’s case?’ Molly demanded. ‘You didn’t try to reach me, did you?’
‘Look, my dear,’ the sister said kindly, for the girl before her seemed so distraught, ‘your mother wasn’t ill in the true sense of the word. Her injuries were mostly flesh wounds and bruises; there was nothing broken. And although it may sound harsh, we have women in here who lose their baby and go home the following day. Then there are others who need two weeks or more to regain their strength. Your mother is an exceptional woman. Moreover, she was perfectly composed when she asked me to give you your letter.’
‘She isn’t well in her mind. She’s been troubled these past days,’ Molly said desperately. ‘I saw it, why couldn’t you? Instead you let her go without even knowing where she was headed!’ She choked back a sob.
‘Why, your mother has gone straight home, hasn’t she? What’s more, she seemed well enough to leave hospital. You say she was troubled, but it’s quite normal to suffer a measure of grief over a lost baby. You mustn’t worry unduly. Mrs Tattersall is a strong, sensible woman.’
Desperate to get away, Molly bade her goodnight.
The sister called her back. ‘If you’re worried about your mother, perhaps you should contact the authorities.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘It was just a suggestion.’
Molly forced a smile. ‘I’m sorry if I lost my temper,’ she said. ‘It was just such a shock to come here and find her gone. I expect you’re right… I’ll get home and there she’ll be.’ But she knew different. She had read the letter, and it was clear enough: her mam had no intention of going home ever again.
Molly didn’t go straight home either. Instead she made her way to the nearby park, where she sat on a bench and took out the letter once more.
Three times she read it, looking for a clue as to where her mam could have gone with this man. It seemed so final, so cruel to Molly. Would she ever see her mother again? And what of her future with Alfie? She would never be able to go to America now. And – oh God! – how would she break the news to her siblings? And to Frank? It didn’t bear thinking about.
For the next hour she toured any likely place where she might discover her mother’s whereabouts; no one at the bus station could recall seeing anyone of that description, nor could the ticket clerk at the railway station. ‘I’ve been here all day,’ he grumbled. ‘If there’d been a woman like you mention, I reckon I’d have noticed.’
The man at the local taxi firm, who served the infirmary, told her assuredly, ‘Sorry, luv, I can’t help you.’
Molly cursed Jack Mason, and cursed her mother, and cried at her going. Through all of it, her heart ached with the worst pain she had ever experienced.
After the tears came the anger. ‘I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done, Mam,’ she muttered. ‘Not as long as I live!’
Hardening her heart, she thrust the letter into her coat pocket, and made her way back to Victoria Street. Tomorrow, when she’d had more time to think, she would decide what to do.