Months had passed since the railway closed, since that terrible night at the station house. Annie found it hard to think about what had happened then. She rubbed her swollen belly absently. It would not be long now till the baby came. Life had been difficult during these last few months. Her father had been furious when she phoned him that night and asked him to fetch her. Shocked when she’d told him on the journey home of the death of Bertram, and then furious once more when she’d informed him that she was pregnant.
‘Jumped the gun, did you?’ her father had asked, through gritted teeth as he drove, too fast Annie thought, through the country lanes leading back to Michelhampton.
She realised she had a choice now. She could let her father think the baby was Bertram’s. Maybe it’d be easier that way? But no. The time for lies and deceit was over. She should tell him the truth. ‘No, Father. It’s not Bertram’s.’
‘Whose, then?’ He spat the words out, spraying flecks of spittle over the windscreen of the car.
‘Ted Morgan’s. The man I love,’ she replied, keeping her voice as steady as she could.
‘That no-good stationmaster? Who’s out of a job? He telephoned me earlier. If I’d known …’ He thumped the steering wheel, sending the car careering across the road and almost into the hedge before he yanked the wheel straight again.
‘I love him, Father,’ she said again, quietly.
‘But he’s been arrested for killing Clarke-Watson, you say? How the hell is my business going to survive now, without him? You’ve ruined me, girl. Ruined yourself, as well.’
Annie had not responded to this, turning her face away. She’d always known he’d be angry. Of course he would. It was an impossible situation to be in. But she found it hard to stomach that he cared more about the future of his business than that Bertie, a man he’d always said he admired and liked, was dead. Or that he was going to be a grandfather.
By the time they reached home, he’d calmed down. Parking the car on the street outside their house, he turned to her again. ‘So, my girl, I have been thinking, and I have come up with a solution to this unholy mess.’
She stared at him and opened the car door. ‘Tell me when we are inside.’
‘No. Sit here and listen to me. First, does anyone else know about this baby?’
‘N-no. I’ve kept it hidden. I can’t hide it for much longer though.’
‘So only Morgan and Clarke-Watson knew?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we will tell everyone that the baby is Clarke-Watson’s. That you couldn’t wait until you were married. It’s more respectable, more understandable. His parents will then be more sympathetic, and his father will hopefully allow the merger to progress anyway. Your situation might elicit sympathy from the wider world too. When you register the child’s birth, you can leave the father’s name blank.’
‘But when Ted is released, I shall marry him, and the truth will have to come out …’ Annie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Or that she was being kept outside, while she heard it, after all that had happened that evening. She wasn’t sure she could cope with much more.
Her father laughed hollowly. ‘When he’s released? I think you mean if, my girl. We’ll cross that bridge if or when we come to it. You’ll tell people the baby is Bertram’s, if you have any sense. If you do not, I shall have no choice but to disown you. You’ll be sent away to have this baby, give it up for adoption, and then you’ll be on your own.’ He opened his own car door and climbed out. ‘And that’s my final word on it.’
*
A couple of days later she’d been summoned to Michelhampton police station, to give a full statement of what had happened at Lynford. It had been a difficult interview. Apparently, Fred Wilson was insisting that he’d witnessed the whole thing, and had seen Ted push Bertram down the stairs, deliberately. The charge was to be one of murder. Annie was asked to clarify, once again, exactly what she had seen.
‘I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate,’ she told the police inspector, carefully, forcing herself to look the man in the eye as she spoke. ‘They were fighting, I mean, Mr Clarke-Watson was fighting Mr Morgan. Mr Morgan was trying to defend himself.’
‘Perhaps he pushed Mr Clarke-Watson away? Perhaps he pushed too hard, is that what happened, Miss Galbraith?’
‘He didn’t mean to, I’m sure he didn’t,’ she repeated, sounding lame even to herself. But whatever she said, she knew she didn’t sound convincing. She couldn’t stop herself from crying – both for Bertie who despite everything didn’t deserve what had happened to him, and for poor dear Ted, whose only crime was of loving her too much.
‘You must be very upset,’ the inspector said, patting her hand. ‘You’ve had a terrible shock. It’s good that Mr Wilson was there to witness the attack. It means you aren’t the only witness, and when it all goes to trial, perhaps the prosecution won’t even need to call you. I understand you are in a, ahem, delicate condition? Better that you be left alone, and not have to go through the ordeal of the trial. I’ll make a note, and let the legal teams know. So very sad that Mr Clarke-Watson will never know his child.’
‘It’s all right, I can testify,’ she said weakly, but the inspector just smiled condescendingly at her, loaned her his handkerchief and made his note.
‘You’ve been very helpful.’ He stood and helped her shrug her jacket on. ‘Now my advice to you is to go home to your father and forget all about this unpleasant episode. We can’t bring back Mr Clarke-Watson, unfortunately. And let us hope that Mr Morgan is never released from prison, after what he’s done. Perhaps when you’ve had the baby adopted you might be able to find yourself a new suitor and put all this unpleasantness behind you. Good luck, Miss Galbraith.’
She’d wanted to hit him. How dare he hope that Ted would never be released! The case had not even gone to trial yet. But she’d bitten back any retort and had simply walked out of the police station with as much dignity as she could muster.
*
With Bertram dead, his father had briefly come out of retirement to run the business and had quickly agreed to merge it with Annie’s father’s business after all and let Mr Galbraith run things. ‘Well, that worked out at least,’ her father said. ‘The old man had no wish to try to find a new front man, and there was I, ready and willing.’ But the Clarke-Watsons were not interested in their grandchild. They preferred to keep the whole existence of the child as hushed up as possible, and assumed that Annie would give the child up for adoption as soon as it was born.
Annie’s father had said the same thing. ‘You’ll live here quietly until the baby arrives, then it’ll be put up for adoption. And then once that’s all over with, I’ll see if I can find someone to take you off my hands. Won’t be as good a match as Clarke-Watson was, mind you. You really messed that one up. You’ll never be fully welcome in decent society again.’
Annie found she didn’t care anymore what her father or anyone else thought. As so often, her thoughts turned to Ted, who was still locked up in Michelhampton police station, charged with murder after Fred Wilson’s statement and his own confession, and awaiting trial.
She had agonised over whether to write to Norah and tell her about the baby, and about what happened on that terrible night. In the end she had written a brief note, telling Norah how sorry she was at Ted’s arrest and saying that she was certain the fall had been an accident and that Ted wasn’t to blame. She’d had a terse response. Norah apparently blamed Annie for her brother’s predicament, and she’d told Annie not to visit Ted in prison as he awaited trial. ‘You will make things harder for him if you go,’ Norah had written. ‘If you care at all for him, stay away.’
Annie had stayed away, although it broke her heart to think of Ted alone, confused and depressed about what was happening to him. She wanted to take him in her arms, tell him she could make it all right again, and then take him away from there, away to a little station house with roses around the door just as they had dreamed of. But that could never happen now. That dream was gone, and she was astute enough to realise it. The best she could do was keep her promise to Ted, to do whatever was best for their child. Which meant keeping the baby and finding some way to give it a happy and secure future.
*
The day on which Annie had met George was, in every other way, unremarkable. Her father had been out at work, the autumn sun was shining brightly in a crisp blue sky and Annie had decided she could not bear being in her father’s house another minute. She owned a loose-fitting winter coat that covered her growing bump and would continue to do so for a while yet. She donned it, along with a hat that didn’t match but would have to do and set off on a walk heading towards Michelhampton Park.
The glory of the day had lifted her spirits a little from the dark places they’d been since the day of the accident, and she smiled to herself as she strode along through the park, kicking up piles of autumn leaves. There was a man, sitting on a bench opposite the park fountain. He’d been watching her, she realised. He looked young, about her age, maybe a little older. He had a soft, kind face. She flashed him a smile, and he stood as she passed by.
‘Please, won’t you sit down? It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? I was watching a couple of robins, who were bathing in the edge of the fountain. Maybe they’ll come back, to entertain us again.’
‘I’d like that,’ she replied, and sat on the bench beside him. He had sandy hair, blue eyes, and a gentle smile. He reminded her a little of Ted, and her heart gave a lurch.
But he had none of Ted’s shyness, and within minutes they were chatting like old friends, arranging to meet up again a few days later. The man’s name was George Pullen, and he was a farmer’s son, with prospects of taking over a sizable property of arable land from his parents, in due course. She’d treated him to one of her best smiles, and had seen his face light up in response as it had its usual effect.
*
Now, heavily pregnant and only a couple of weeks away from giving birth, Annie smiled at the memory of the day she met George Pullen. An auspicious day, for sure. They’d seen each other every week since then, and she’d found herself able to talk to him about anything. He knew it all. He knew about the baby – well, now that she was nearly at her due date and was the size of a small whale, of course he did! He knew about Bertram and Ted, and about the fight. He believed the story that Bertram was the child’s father, but he knew of Annie’s feelings for Ted. With the trial only a week away she had not been able to keep any of it secret, and in any case, she found she did not want to. George had become her confidant, her best friend. He was steady, gentle and loyal, and now that her old friends had dropped her, not wanting to be associated with a ‘fallen woman’, she’d come to rely on George’s company more and more.
George had proposed, in a way. ‘If the worst happens,’ he’d said hesitantly one day when they were alone in her father’s sitting room, ‘and Ted Morgan is found guilty, then please, I hope you’d consider taking me instead. I could be this child’s father.’
‘Oh, George,’ she’d replied, reaching out to touch his cheek. ‘You are so sweet and such a good friend. But I cannot say yes. Not while there’s still a chance with Ted …’
‘Of course not, dear Annie. I just want you to know … that I could be your backup plan, as it were. If you would consider me, and if Ted Morgan isn’t free, then … I am yours. There will be no need for your baby to be adopted.’
She’d smiled, and dabbed at her eyes, unable to say anything more. She was lucky to have found him, she knew. But Ted would need her to be waiting for him, if he was found not guilty. And she would be there for him.
Her father approved of George; at least as far as he approved of anything she did these days. ‘Best you’ll get, in your situation,’ he’d said gruffly, and left it at that. Annie had the impression he just wanted shot of her, once and for all, so she could bring no more shame on him. Well, one way or another he’d get his way. If Ted was by some miracle released, she would suggest that they go far away as soon as possible, and make a life for themselves far from Michelhampton. They’d live in poverty but they’d be together, and they’d be happy. And if Ted wasn’t released – then there was George. Her backstop.
She’d written to Ted briefly just once, in defiance of Norah’s request. She’d had a letter in return – a short, sad little letter that told her he’d sunk deep into depression and closed himself off from the world, but which repeated his last words to her as he’d been taken away in handcuffs: Look after our child. Do whatever is best for him or her.
The best option for their child was a secure future. That was something only George could offer her, if Ted was found guilty.
She’d been asked if she would testify for the defence, despite the fact that the trial date coincided with her due date. The prosecution were only calling Fred Wilson as a witness. She’d reluctantly agreed – maybe she’d be able to convince the jury that Bertram’s fall had been entirely accidental. But it would be difficult, so very difficult to stand there in the witness box in front of the judge and tell an outright lie.
*
At last the trial began. Annie was desperate to go and watch, to sit in the public gallery, and see for herself how Ted was. Perhaps her presence would lend him strength. Or, on second thoughts, perhaps it would upset him. Norah had asked her to stay away from him. But she’d been told by the lawyer that she could not attend, as she was due to be called as a witness. Then on day two of the trial, her pains started. Her father took her to the Michelhampton hospital and deposited her at the entrance to the maternity ward, clutching at her belly, holding a small suitcase containing nightdresses, toiletries, and the few items for the baby that she had managed to collect.
The child was a girl, born after many hours of pain and screaming, which left Annie vowing she would have no more children, no matter whom she married. Later, she cradled the baby in her arms, named her Ena, and kissed her soft, downy head.
‘You’ll be an only child as you grow up, little Ena, just like I was. But you’ll have your mummy with you to love you all your life. I won’t go off and die when you’re little like my mother did. And I’ll make sure your daddy is a kind and gentle man, whoever he ends up being. You won’t be bullied, the way I was by my father.’
Ena just grimaced and turned her little head towards Annie’s breast, searching for sustenance. Annie helped the child latch on, and then relaxed back against the hospital pillows, imagining Ted’s expression of rapture when – or if – he saw his daughter for the first time.
*
Annie came home from hospital with baby Ena three days later. Her first visitor was George, who brought her flowers, chocolates, and a baby’s layette in white, trimmed with lemon-coloured lace.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Annie exclaimed, from where she lay on the sitting room couch. Ena was in a pram that her father had grudgingly bought, in the corner of the room. Thankfully she was asleep at the moment. Annie had had no idea how hard looking after such a tiny person could be.
‘Your daughter is beautiful,’ said George, peering into the pram with an expression of wonder and awe on his face.
He’d be a doting father, Annie suddenly realised. He’d love and cherish any child he brought up, whether they were his own or not.
George came to sit near her and took her hand. ‘The trial came to a conclusion today,’ he said gently. ‘The jury didn’t deliberate for long. I came here as soon as I heard the verdict.’
‘Oh, oh my goodness,’ Annie whispered. She’d missed the whole thing, being in hospital giving birth. Her heart beat faster as she realised she was about to find out which of the two possible futures was to be hers and Ena’s. Let it be a future with Ted, she prayed silently. Let him have been found not guilty, free to leave, free to take her and Ena away. But something in George’s tone told her that fantasy was not to be.
‘I’m very sorry,’ George said, rubbing his thumb in circles across the back of her hand. ‘I know how much you care for Mr Morgan. But I’m afraid he was … found guilty of murder.’
‘Guilty!’ Her heart flipped over. The worst possible outcome. The very worst. She tried to say something more but no words would come. Ted, convicted of murder. How could that be true? ‘Oh, George, it can’t be, tell me it’s not true!’
‘I’m so sorry, dear Annie. It seemed the jury set a lot of store by the evidence from the station porter, who said Morgan had pushed Mr Clarke-Watson down the stairs deliberately. Morgan’s sister was present, and testified as a character witness, but as she was not present at the scene and, well, she cried so much while she was on the stand that she was quickly excused.’ He frowned slightly. ‘I know you always said it was an accident.’
‘Yes, it w-was an accident, I’m sure. Ted never meant to hurt Bertram. I’m sure of that. Oh, George, I should have testified! I should have insisted! They should have delayed it for me.’ Would her testimony have changed things? Maybe it would have, but not necessarily for the better, she realised. She wasn’t sure it would have stood up to cross-examination. She glanced at Ena, sleeping peacefully in her cot. She was the most important thing in all this. Ted had said that.
She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed away her tears. ‘What will happen to Ted now?’
‘I’m afraid he’ll be hanged for it.’ George moved to sit beside her on the sofa and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘Oh, my love. I am so very sorry about it all.’
Hanged. The word hit Annie like a stab to the heart. Hanged. So final. And it was her fault – all her fault. Her actions had led to this point. If she’d testified, if she hadn’t let him confess to pushing Bertram, if she hadn’t let Bertram follow her to Lynford on that fateful night, if she hadn’t stayed there on the night of the storm … Ted would be free. Not awaiting the hangman’s noose. And their baby …
She made a snap decision. The only decision left to her, now that Ted was to be hanged. A decision that would allow her to keep her promise to him.
‘Ena will never know her true father,’ she said carefully, raising her eyes slowly to gaze deep into George’s. ‘But she can know another father, if there’s a man who would still consider taking her, and her mother, on.’
George gasped. ‘Oh, my sweet, are you saying yes to me? Are you really? I never thought … so soon after … but yes, I would be honoured and privileged to be your husband!’
With an enormous effort she pushed Ted out of her mind and forced herself to smile, watching how the effect of it lit up his face, in just the same way it had once lit up Ted’s. ‘And I would be honoured to be your wife.’ Ted would approve, she thought. This arrangement would provide the best possible future for Ena, just as she’d promised Ted, and now, keeping her promise was all she could do for him.