CHAPTER Twenty

It was the perfect night for a ramble. The sky had deepened to the colour of squid ink and the full moon played out with the stars. Cassie drove to the No Name, deliberately going at the last minute to avoid conversation, and found a huge crowd gathered, ready to walk. There must have been a hundred people there, of all ages, from pensioners balancing on walking sticks to children running round, and even a couple of babies strapped on to their parents.

It was an extravaganza of light and noise. Everyone had a torch or lantern, so it looked as if a swarm of giant fireflies had huddled together for a party. Beams of white light duelled with yellow and bizarrely, one disco light flashing neon pink and green. Everyone had a bell of some description too, and the night air jingled and echoed with lively sleigh bells and solemn hand bells.

Cassie had taken a torch from Ramblings, and would have managed without bells, but Frances had other ideas. She made Cassie spend a dusty half hour in the cellar, searching for a box labelled ‘midnight ramble’. It contained a couple of broken torches which looked old enough to be prototypes, an old-fashioned gas lantern and numerous cuffs with small bells sewn on. Most of these were too big for Cassie’s slim wrists, but at the bottom of the box Frances discovered two elastic bracelets with sleigh bells sewn on. They had clearly been made for children, but as the elastic had deteriorated over the years, they now easily stretched to fit Cassie. So to Frances’ delight, Cassie now joined the other ramblers with bells adorning her wrists, tinkling with every move she made.

She lurked at the back of the crowd, peering over shoulders as well as she could to see who she recognised. Mel and Akram were at the front, easily visible in their matching hats with flashing lights left over from Christmas. Cassie smiled to see Lydia hanging about with a couple of friends, pretending that Mel didn’t exist. Ethel was also easy to see, because she was wearing a fluorescent yellow jacket and head torch, as if she might be heading down a mine rather than round the village. There was no sign of Barney, or of Mike. A spark of hope lifted Cassie. Might he have changed his mind about coming?

Cassie jumped as a gong sounded. The jingling and the chattering stopped, and the crowd turned to face the No Name car park. The Colonel was standing on a crate so everyone could see him.

‘Ribblemillers, friends and guests, welcome to our midnight ramble,’ he boomed though a megaphone. His greeting was returned with a cheer and a ringing of bells. He raised his hand for silence. ‘Every year we gather and walk the boundaries of our village, in a ceremony that has taken place for centuries. We unite and ring our bells to warn any evil spirits that there is no home for them in Ribblemill.’ Another loud cheer rose up. ‘So on behalf of Ribblemillers gone before, Ribblemillers here now, and Ribblemillers yet to come… ’ A few wolf-whistles broke out. ‘Let the chant begin. Evil spirits be gone! Evil spirits be gone!’

The crowd took up the chant, and rang their bells and stamped their feet to accompany the words. The noise, and the energy, and the camaraderie between the villagers were incredible. Cassie was transfixed. She wanted to be part of this; she wanted to be a true Ribblemiller, chanting and rambling with family and friends – not hiding at the back, worrying about who might see her. She would have been a part of this, if Mike hadn’t turned up and spoilt everything. And as she was swept along in a cacophony of sound and warmth, determination stiffened her bones. Mike had taken so much from her. He wasn’t taking this away too.

With a cry of ‘Let’s away!’ the Colonel led a procession from the No Name, past the boarded up ruins of the village hall, and over a stile into a field. The villagers formed a solid snake of light at first, as they chanted and jingled along, but as the walk went on, groups broke off and the chants largely died away, replaced by chatter and laughter. Cassie was alone, but there was something wonderfully invigorating about walking out at this time, feeling the night air tousling her hair, seeing only one torch beam ahead, and with the pervasive silence of the countryside almost drowning out the sound of human life.

The path continued through a small wood, and as Cassie stepped into the trees to let a family of fast walkers go by, a hand clamped round her wrist. Mike yanked her further into the trees, and turned on her. His breath was laboured and panting, and every exhalation carried the pungent stench of cheese and whisky. Cassie held her breath for as long as she could, until her chest quivered and she had to gasp for air.

‘Where have you been all day?’

His anger was a relief, in a way: better that than the usual possessive pawing.

‘At work.’

‘Until this time? I expected you hours ago, after you’d spoon-fed the old dear.’

‘Frances can feed herself.’

‘Then you should have left her to it.’ His hand tightened, and the sleigh bells on Cassie’s wrist jingled. ‘I’m starting to get the idea that you’re not as pleased to see me as you should be. We could have been in bed, not out on this ridiculous walk. We could have been at home. I’ve spent a lot of time and trouble trying to find you. You need to be showing considerably more gratitude.’

Cassie raised her torch and pointed it in his face. His nose shone Rudolph red; sweat pooled in the lines on his forehead and trickled down the sides of his face. It was hard to believe she had ever loved him, but she supposed she must have done. When he had smiled, and laughed with her, not at her; when she had still believed that the look and words of love were true, not just bait for the trap, so he could possess her. She had never felt the love that she now knew was possible; and whatever there had been was long gone.

‘I’m not pleased to see you,’ she said, keeping her voice low as another group rambled past. ‘You’re wrong if you think I’ll be returning to Bristol with you. I’m staying here.’

Mike dragged her closer, until she was pressed against him, and with his free hand he snatched her torch and threw it on the ground. The light went out. He switched off his own torch, so the darkness of the night crept round them.

‘You silly bitch, what are you going to do in this dump? Do you think anyone cares whether you’re here or not? No one gives a toss about you. I can’t see any of your new friends rushing to walk with you, can you? You’re nothing.’

His fingers crushed her wrist. His voice rose with every word.

‘Do you think you’re going to find someone better than me? Don’t count on it. No man would be interested in a defective freak like you. You don’t drink, you’re full of puncture marks, you make the most godawful fuss over what you eat, and frankly you’re as exciting as a stiff old doll in bed. You don’t have any other options. I’m all you’ve got. You’re coming home with me.’

‘Never!’ Cassie shouted, and instantly, as if it had been a code word, a semi-circle of light surrounded them. Cassie squinted against the brightness, unable to see the figures behind the lights.

‘Let her go, you brute,’ Mel said.

Cassie thought she had never heard a sweeter sound. Then she did.

‘You’re wrong. We all care.’

Barney’s voice was loud and crisp, and one light moved forwards, breaking rank with the others. Cassie knew it was him, even before the torch beams lit him up from behind. He strode towards them, until he stared down on Mike, who at last dropped Cassie’s arm.

‘Don’t you dare speak to her like that. And for the record,’ he added, quiet enough that Cassie could hear but not the others, ‘no decent man would be bothered about any of those things.’

Before Cassie could process that speech everyone moved at once. The circle of light closed round them, and Cassie made out Akram as well as Mel, and Ethel and her husband, and various other people she had met at the Saturday library or knew from the meetings held at Ramblings. Mel pulled her back, and suddenly everyone was patting her shoulder, or rubbing her arm, and asking how she was, and showing that what Barney had said was true. They cared. Cassie’s throat burned with tears that she wouldn’t allow to fall, because she was never going to let Mike have the satisfaction of thinking he had upset her again.

‘Walk’s over for you, mate,’ Akram said, and he and another man took hold of Mike by the arms. ‘We’re taking you back to the pub.’

‘You can stay for the rest of the night,’ Mel added, ‘since you’ve paid. But I want you gone first thing in the morning. And you won’t be getting breakfast!’

Akram dragged Mike round to lead him away. Ethel darted in front of him.

‘Evil spirits be gone!’ she shrieked, and waved a stick of bells in his face. ‘That told him,’ she said, as Mike was finally escorted off. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish. No offence, Cassie love.’

‘None taken.’ She bent down and picked up her torch. She shook and thumped it, but it wouldn’t switch on. ‘What are you all doing here?’

‘Looking for you,’ Mel said. ‘We were worried. Barney told us that we hadn’t to leave you on your own tonight, but we all thought you were walking with someone else.’

She put her arm round Cassie, and gave her a big squeeze.

‘I’m sorry. We really cocked it up. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.’

‘I’m glad it happened.’

Mel looked doubtful, and Cassie rushed to explain.

‘He’s told me for years that no one cares about me apart from him. You’ve all proved him wrong. I can’t begin to tell you how much that means.’ Cassie’s voice wobbled.

Mel brushed her hand across her eyes. ‘I wish you’d told me before. I would never have let him within a mile of the No Name.’

She gave Cassie another hug.

‘We’d better get a move on. Ruth should have the punch well underway, but she’ll never serve this crowd by herself. We must have a record turnout this year. Are you coming, Barney?’

‘In a minute. We’ll catch you up.’ He took the torch from Cassie’s hand. ‘I’ll see if I can fix Cassie’s torch.’

‘OK.’ It was too dark to see Mel’s expression, but the amused curiosity in her voice needed no illumination. ‘Come on, everyone, let’s get going.’

Mel led her gang though the trees and back to the main path, and their lights faded out of sight. Barney handed his torch to Cassie, while he unscrewed the top of hers, and poked around inside it. It didn’t work when he put it back together.

‘I think it must be knackered,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’ He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a familiar yellow bag. ‘I brought Jelly Babies.’

‘I don’t need them.’

The words came out more sharply than Cassie had planned, but really, why did he always have to see her as a patient? She had never felt better. She had resisted Mike, not been dragged down by his words. She was exhilarated, not ill.

‘Thanks,’ she added, a little too late.

A couple went by on the path. A low male voice floated through the gloom, answered by a feminine giggle. It made Cassie acutely aware that she was alone in the dark with Barney, standing so close that his warm breath blew across the top of her head, and if their arms weren’t quite brushing, it would take only a twitch on one side or the other to close the gap. Cassie eased back, and the bells on her wrists tinkled.

Barney reached out for her hand and lifted it for a closer look. Cassie’s breathing went wild, as she seemed to take in too many breaths and not let enough out. She wondered if it was too late to change her mind about the Jelly Babies.

‘Where did you find these?’ he asked, plucking at the elastic band round her wrist. The bells jingled at his touch. ‘We used to wear these when we were young.’

‘Frances.’ It was as much as Cassie could say, with Barney’s finger tantalising the inside of her wrist.

‘You know…’ His thumb drew a faint circle on her skin.

‘Yes?’ The word rushed out on a gasp.

‘Sexual problems can be a common issue with diabetes. You should mention it at clinic. There are various things that might help.’

It wasn’t what she had been expecting – hoping – he would say. Disappointment punched her with such a forceful right hook that her head spun and any chance of making a sensible reply vanished.

‘Will you stop being a doctor for once? The diabetes isn’t the problem,’ she snapped. ‘I didn’t want him. I didn’t find him attractive any more. Is that plain enough for you? It doesn’t mean that I have no desire.’

And then, without stopping to think whether it was a good idea – because she would surely have concluded that it wasn’t – she curled her arm round his neck, pulled him nearer, and with the accompanying jingle of sleigh bells, she kissed him. It was meant to be an angry kiss, to prove her point, and she kept her eyes wide open; but it was too dark to see much, and the limited vision enhanced every other sense. His lips were warm against her cold ones. The hair at the nape of his neck threaded softly between her fingers. She heard his breathing change, the breaths becoming deeper, and then – unexpectedly – he kissed her back.

The torches fell to the floor. Barney pulled her into his arms. She felt every flex of his muscles as his hands explored, awakening delicious sensations across skin that hadn’t felt a tender touch in too long. And she realised, in her last few moments of lucidity, that this was the only time she was ever going to kiss Barney Smallwood – ever going to kiss the man she loved more than anyone she had ever known – so she threw herself in to it, unable to conceal her feelings. And then there was no more thought.

‘Cassie?’

Cassie hardly registered the sound, until Barney’s back stiffened beneath her hands and his lips stilled. A beam of light flashed across them. It was as good as a bucket of cold water. Cassie stumbled back, shivering as the night air replaced Barney’s embrace.

‘I think I’ve proved my point,’ she said.

‘I think you have.’ Barney’s voice sounded as unsteady as hers.

But if she had been proving a point – and Cassie’s thoughts were still whirling too much to think this through – what had he been doing? She hadn’t imagined what had just happened. He had kissed her, as much as she had kissed him. He had been as consumed as her. Her chest burned at the memory of it. She lifted a foot, as if to take a step forward again.

‘There you are!’ Mel was back, shining a torch at Cassie. ‘We met someone with a spare torch, so you can have this one. We were worried when you didn’t follow, even if you were in Barney’s safe hands.’

Safe? There was nothing safe about Barney’s hands. Mel linked her arm in Cassie’s.

‘Shall we get going? Barney, you’re faster than us. Would you mind running on ahead to the No Name and giving Ruth a hand with the drinks?’

‘But…’

‘Thanks! You’re a star.’

Mel lifted her lantern so the light spilled onto Barney’s chest and sent a soft glow over his face. His hair was sticking out at the side. He looked shell-shocked.

‘Off you go then!’

He picked up his torch and jogged away. Mel squeezed Cassie’s arm and they set off on the ramble again, Mel keeping up a constant stream of chatter. Cassie knew what Mel was doing: she was trying to distract her from thoughts of Mike, and what he had said. But it wasn’t Mike she needed distracting from. What had she been thinking of, kissing Barney? More interestingly, what had he been thinking of, kissing her? Had it been real, or a pity kiss, to make her feel better? Wasn’t it exactly the sort of kind thing he would do, after hearing Mike’s cruel words? How could she face him again in that case?

‘I won’t come in for a drink,’ Cassie said, pulling her arm free from Mel’s as they arrived at the pub car park.

‘I don’t think he’ll show his face downstairs, but I don’t blame you,’ Mel said. ‘You’ve had quite an evening.’

There was no arguing with that. Rejecting her husband and forcing herself on another man seconds later… It certainly made a change from her usual night, watching News 24 with Frances. Cassie headed over to the Volvo, but her steps slowed when she saw Barney leaning against the side of the car. He met her in the middle of the car park. Cassie stared at the floor. It was impossible to look at him without a bullet train of desire racing from one extreme to the other. She knew what those lips tasted like. She knew what those hands could do. She knew what that body felt like, welded against hers. How could she unknow those things, so she could behave normally again?

‘Cassie.’

Even his voice saying her name made her yearn to reach out for him. He came close, but didn’t touch her. She focussed on his walking boots.

‘What you said this morning… about him withholding your insulin…’ He stumbled over the words. ‘Did you report it? You could probably get an injunction to keep him away. You know what that was, don’t you?’

‘Yes. Bullying.’

‘I can think of a much worse name for it than that.’

‘Don’t!’ Cassie looked up. Under the lights of the car park, Barney’s eyes glittered. ‘Don’t say it. Don’t make me think of it that way.’

‘Cassie…’ His hand stretched out, but stopped short of touching her. He let it fall back down. ‘What can I do?’

‘Nothing. There are some things not even you can cure.’

He remained in the car park, watching her, as she drove away.

Despite the late night, the library was open in the ballroom as usual the next morning. The Colonel was at the head of a queue of villagers waiting outside when Cassie unlocked the door.

‘Good morning, Cassie.’ The Colonel nodded at her. ‘Beautiful day.’

Cassie peered past him at the dull grey sky, which looked as if it had been lightly shaded in with a pencil. It wasn’t raining, so she supposed for Lancashire it did qualify as a good day. The Colonel walked in and gave her an awkward pat on the arm before taking up his habitual post on a chair near the door. The other villagers offered similar gestures of support. It was hard to keep smiling when every act of kindness confirmed how far the news of her humiliation had spread.

The library had been running for half an hour, when the sound of raised voices drifted down the corridor, and Mike burst into the room, a panting Colonel close behind.

‘There was no stopping him,’ the Colonel said.

Mike stomped across the room to where Cassie was sitting behind the desk. He looked terrible. His bloodshot eyes suggested a late night with the whisky bottle, and he wore yesterday’s clothes, crumpled down one side as if he had slept in them. But these things were only temporary distractions from his face. His nose was bulbous and red, dried blood crusted round his nostrils, and his top lip was swollen and cut. Cassie jumped up.

‘What’s happened to you?’

Had he been mugged? He would be furious, especially as he was only here because of her. How could it have happened in Ribblemill? She hadn’t heard of a single crime since she’d lived here.

Mike took a step closer, and loomed over the desk.

‘Your lover happened.’ He gestured at his face. ‘Did you put him up to this?’

Cassie moved behind her chair.

‘What lover?’

‘How many have you got, you fucking whore?’

The words bounced round the vast expanse of the ballroom, straight into the ears of everyone there. No one moved. Cassie closed her eyes, and drew her elbows into her side, trying to shrink into herself, and become invisible. And then she heard Frances’ voice.

‘Cassie dear, who is this appalling man?’

Cassie opened her eyes. Frances had risen from her chair, and was leaning on her stick, gazing across at her.

‘It’s Mike,’ she said. ‘He’s…’ She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

‘I’m her husband,’ Mike finished. ‘A fact she seems determined to forget.’

‘I think we should adjourn to the Green Salon.’ Frances turned to Mike. ‘You may follow. Colonel, would you mind keeping an eye on the library? We will be down the corridor if there are any problems.’

Frances led the way to a gloomy, north-facing room, with dark wood panelling along the walls and soft furnishings in an unpleasant shade of bottle green. She patted an upright chair, making dust billow out, and sat down. Mike stared at her.

‘We don’t need an audience. I want to speak to my wife alone.’

There was a sarcastic inflection on the word ‘wife’. Cassie shuffled towards the fireplace, and leant against the wall.

‘I do not know where you were brought up,’ Frances said, ‘but here in Lancashire, it is the custom for a house owner to dismiss a visitor, not the other way round.’

The expression on her face as she looked Mike up and down would have made Cassie laugh if the last few days hadn’t chased away her sense of humour.

‘I would not trust you alone with one of the stuffed birds in the gallery, never mind with Cassie.’

She sat up straight, her stick in her hand. ‘Say your piece.’

His piece proved short. ‘Pack your bags. You’re coming home.’

‘No. I told you last night. I’m not going anywhere with you. This is my home.’

‘Are four bedrooms not enough for you now? You grasping bitch. I gave you everything. Designer clothes, five-star holidays, hair done at the best salon in town. What more could you have wanted?’

‘Kindness? Love? Children? Those other things were for you, not me.’

Cassie was betrayed by a wobble in her voice, and Mike changed tack at once.

‘Children? Fine. I’ll make you pregnant, if that’s what it takes.’ He bent towards Cassie, and lowered his voice. ‘But don’t think I’ll have anything to do with it, if it turns out defective like you.’

Frances rapped her stick on the floor, and Mike stepped back. He was smiling – although the burst lip turned it into a grimace. He thought he had won, that he had offered the one thing that Cassie couldn’t resist. She could see it in the confident way he was standing, hands in pockets, chest forward, chin jutting out, challenging her to turn this down. And somewhere low in her stomach, she felt a dormant part of her ache. This was what she had wanted, from the moment she had married him – a little Alfie of her own. But that was before she had come to know the real Mike. She had killed her dreams years ago. She would never risk him treating a child the way he treated her.

‘I don’t want your baby,’ she said.

‘Are you so confident you’re going to find someone else?’ Mike laughed. ‘Your prospects aren’t good, are they? Those big eyes aren’t going to be so attractive when you’re blind. Your voice won’t sound sexy when you’re constantly asking for things to be done for you. It’s me or nothing.’

‘Then I choose nothing.’ Cassie clenched her hands behind her back, her thumb rubbing away at already raw skin. ‘It would be better to live alone for the rest of my life than spend another night with you. I would rather never have children than make you a father again.’

‘She’s not going to last much longer, is she?’ Mike jerked his head towards Frances. ‘You won’t have a home when she dies. You’ll come running back to me then.’

‘Young man, I intend dying at my own convenience, not yours.’

Frances spoke in a voice that could have quelled a Roman army. Mike turned towards her, and took a stride forward.

‘You senile old bat, I could kick that chair away and finish you now.’

‘Don’t you dare go near her!’

Cassie grabbed the nearest item off the mantelpiece, and marched up to Mike. She stopped in front of him, fury not fear causing her breath to pump out in rapid puffs.

‘What are you planning to do with that?’ Mike sneered.

Cassie glanced at her hand. She was holding an ivory monkey, its hands clamped over its mouth. It wasn’t the ideal weapon. He didn’t think she had the guts to do it. Laughing, he took a step nearer Frances. Cassie swung back her arm, and whacked him on the chin with the monkey.

It didn’t do much damage – his head was thick enough to withstand more force than Cassie could offer – but the exhilaration that surged through her was like nothing she’d ever known. She pulled her arm back to have another go, but he grabbed her wrist, snatched the monkey and threw it to the floor. Pieces of ivory scuttled across the room.

‘Get out,’ Cassie said. ‘Go home, and don’t ever come back here.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

He reached out, as if he was going to stroke her cheek, but Cassie moved back.

‘It’s the illness, making you irrational. I understand that. You can’t abandon our marriage, or your home. All your things are still exactly where you left them, waiting. You’ll have to come back eventually.’

The smugness in his voice was infuriating, but his words still found their mark. Cassie’s eyes stung as she thought of what she had been forced to leave behind: her books; family photographs; a box of love letters exchanged by her parents; the old sewing machine on which her mother had run up so many of their childhood clothes. She had been devastated to go without them, but they were only possessions. She could sacrifice the lot to be free of Mike. She walked over to the door and held it open.

‘Leave this house, or I’ll go and fetch all the villagers from the library and we’ll throw you out together. And don’t tell me they don’t care,’ she said, as Mike opened his mouth to hurt her again, ‘because I know they do. I don’t believe you any more, and I don’t love you. You’ve lost your power.’

Cassie leant against the door, her grip tight on the handle. This was harder than she had expected.

‘We’re finished. I deserve better than this.’

Mike walked over to Cassie. He didn’t take his eyes off her. Her hand ached with the effort of clinging on to the handle, and though she longed to stretch her fingers, she couldn’t prise them away. This time when he reached out there was nowhere for Cassie to go. She pressed her back against the panels of the door while he ran his hand down the side of her face, her neck, and on to her breast.

‘You’re mine.’ He leaned down so that his face was close to hers, and she pushed her head back as far as she could, feeling the ridges in the door through her hair. ‘You love me. You’ll be home soon enough, and I’ll be waiting.’

‘Don’t.’

Cassie glanced over at Frances: she was watching, but was far enough way not to hear. She turned her attention back to Mike, and brought her head closer to his so she could speak quietly.

‘I did love you, more than you ever deserved. But that was before I understood what love could really feel like, and before I met a man who shows more kindness and decency in one hour than I expect you to show in your whole life. And though I might not have a future with him, he and everyone else in this village has reminded me what normal life is like, and it’s not what I had with you. There is nothing you can say or do to make me go back to you. This is over.’

She met his gaze, defiant in a way she had never been before, and stared him down until she saw his expression harden as he realised that she was serious.

‘You cheating tart,’ he snarled at her, backing away as if she were contagious. ‘I’ll never agree to a divorce. You and your thug of a lover won’t get a penny from me.’

He stomped out, and Cassie closed the door behind him. It was over, at last.