Kate refused Jonny’s offer to help her mount for riding and used the hipping stock, climbing up to the top step. It was no easy feat with her odd-length legs and no hand rail, but now she was a year older she was determined to become more independent. She had adopted Cully, a dapple-grey young pony, as her own and went out on her most days.
She waited for Jonny to sit astride Tom’s brown mare, Star. ‘Shall we ride to Idless Woods?’
‘If you like, but how about wandering over Tremore land? You haven’t seen any of my father’s property.’ Jonny was admiring her in a crisp white blouse, trousers, and her hair in a snood. He hadn’t forgotten his camera.
‘OK, that would be nice.’
She felt light-hearted and rather important to be sat up high, trotting through the village with a member of the former local gentry. Jill had said to stay out as long as she liked, that it was her birthday and a day for doing things her own way – yet another wonderful new luxury to her. She was sure she would remember this day for the rest of her life.
Jonny led the way along the first narrow ribbon of Back Lane, then went off the road straight ahead on to a wide short track surrounded by fields. Kate saw the hedges were flooded with brambles and green berries, a blackberry feast here in a few weeks’ time. There was a stile beside the gate of the field directly in front of them. Leaning from the saddle, Jonny opened the gate and ushered Kate through into a field where his father’s pedigree shorthorn herd was grazing. They trotted through the field and several after that, weaving in and out of the lanes to reach the next fields where necessary. They cantered where there were no crops or beasts, riding up and down hills, taking in the views of lonely dwellings, the occasional deserted tumbledown cottage, and the village and other farms in the distance.
After an hour, Jonny said, ‘Thirsty? There’s a stream just ahead.’
‘I could do with a drink,’ she replied. Her cheeks were rosy-pink from the exhilarating exertion and she was pleasantly out of breath.
They were at the bottom of a fallow field where there was a predominance of hazel, an old neglected coppice in the shade of the woods. The hazel was a mass of straggling limbs from old stools that couldn’t be classed as trees. Kate was reminded of another of her old hurried pastimes, when she had collected hazelnuts in autumn and her mother had demanded she hand them all over, after she had cracked the shells first. A vivid scene from the nightmare she’d had last night was of her grandmother choking on hazelnuts. Why must she haunt her even on her birthday? Forget about it, she told herself, let nothing ruin today.
‘We’ll dismount here and walk,’ Jonny said. ‘It’s just a short way. I’d like to take some snaps to commemorate your birthday, if that’s all right.’
‘Of course it is. I’m the one who should be grateful to you.’
Before jumping down, he took a photograph from the mare of her on Cully, then another from the ground. He offered his hand to help her dismount. Such a tiny hand she had, warm and a little rough. She had grown in confidence and strength at an amazing rate since he’d known her. He towered over her. It was a meeting of a man and a maiden, of someone returning to his boyish spirit and a girl blossoming into a woman. He couldn’t help smiling at her and he loved it when he provoked a smile out of her in return. It was an enchanting reward. Her natural smiles were the essence of simplicity, of one who although kept cruelly a prisoner from the world was wonderfully unspoiled by its degradation.
‘You lead the way,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘To the stream. That’s where you said we were going.’ When he became strangely vague and seemed to be less sure of himself, she wondered why she had ever found him intimidating. She didn’t put him on a pedestal of glowing masculinity, or desire him or wish him for a husband, but saw him only as caring and ordinary. She thought now that there was no need to exalt people for any reason. They were either good or bad, some shining in integrity, others at the far end of the scale horribly dark with corruption.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ To his dismay he actually found himself blushing. Kate affected him in ways no other woman could. She was so lovely, exquisite and enchanting. Sunlight shimmered on her hair, turning it to shades of copper and chestnut, and her eyes were like green oceans. Her gentle looks celebrated early womanhood at its best. She should have poetry written about her. Another new thing Jonny found, something a little unsettling, was how in her naiveté Kate might see aspects in him other women didn’t. The hero-god other women seemed to find totally bypassed her. On occasion she might see him as shallow and trite – she certainly had not liked it when he’d reprimanded Denny James during the haymaking. He would have to be careful never to betray her trust.
Taking the mare’s reins he started off and she brought Cully along at his side, until a natural opening in the woods was reached, where a billowing of crimson rosebay willowherb danced in the light breeze like flames. Butterflies were skimming from flower to flower. Jonny was caught up in excitement. ‘Perfect! I just have to take some photos of you here. Could you take off your snood and let your hair run free, Kate?’
Leaving Cully, Kate stood in front of the blaze of flowers, which tapered up to four feet high, with spirals of leaves all the way up the sturdy stems. ‘Do you want me sitting down?’
Jonny was thrilled at how ready she was to pose for him. ‘In a minute, my love.’ He snapped her facing him and in profile, and gazing in all directions. Then he started on some studies of her sitting in various positions. ‘Great. Thanks for your patience. Now let’s get that drink of water.’
They entered the ancient woods, on what was not exactly a bridle path but a track just wide enough for two riders. After a few yards, Jonny pointed to the side where the woodland floor began to drop in a gradual slope. ‘Down there. It’s not far.’
Passing under an awning of high beech and oak boughs through which the sun shone, casting a dappled shade over them, they went down to a small clearing, to the low bank of a tiny trickling stream. The sun shone hotly on the exposed thick carpet of grass in this almost magical place, the bank curving inward in one spot and forming a little pool before the crystal water chinkled on its way. ‘Oh, I love it here!’ Kate said.
‘I thought you would.’ Jonny hitched Cully and Star’s reins to a low branch.
He watched while Kate eased herself down on her knees and, leaning over the bank, cupped her hands to scoop up water. ‘Mmm, it’s cold and sweet.’ She gazed up at him.
Jonny was transfixed, with no thought of taking more pictures of her. He just wanted to feast his eyes on her and imprint these moments in his mind. He knelt beside her, and they both eased their thirst. He dried his hands on his shirt, then pulled it free from his waistband. ‘Here, use this. Don’t make yourself wet.’
She laughed. ‘Always the chivalrous one.’ She had heard Tilda refer to Mr Perry in this way and thought the description suited Jonny. He had so many nice ways.
‘That’s right.’ He let a deep smile linger on her. ‘I’m the knight in shining armour and you’re my lady.’
‘A maiden in distress, you mean.’
‘Not at all. You don’t look at all distressed now.’
‘I’m not. This is one of the best days of my life. It would be even better if there was good news about Miss Rothwell.’
‘I agree, but don’t think about anyone else for a while, Kate. Remember this time as perfect in a perfect place.’
‘It is.’ His eyes hadn’t left hers and, capturing his tranquil mood, she was mesmerized by him.
‘You’re perfect company, Kate.’
She smiled shyly and looked down. Compliments usually made her feel reticent but she had no idea there was a deeper meaning behind the one Jonny had just given her. She sat on the grass and gazed at the water.
Jonny did the same, very close to her. ‘Lean against me if you like.’
‘OK.’ Turning slightly side-on she rested her back against his arm. They stayed quiet, letting their minds float but conscious of the wildlife that teemed in the woodland. Rustles indicated mice or other small creeping creatures foraging for nuts, buds and insects. A wood pigeon cooed somewhere high in the trees, and chaffinches and a woodcock issued their own distinctive calls. There might be weasels, stoats, foxes, hedgehogs or shrews anywhere in the vicinity. Together they looked in the direction of the snap of a twig or followed an insect in flight. All the while the gentle song of the stream lulled them into a dreamy state. Jonny eased his arm away and wrapped it around Kate and she leaned against the side of his body, movements at that moment natural to both of them.
A plop near a weedy spot on the edge of the bank alerted them to a water vole, startled by something unknown, plunging into the water. The long, chestnut-coloured furry creature swam towards the bank on the opposite side.
‘Aren’t you going to take a picture of it?’ Kate whispered, unwilling to break the soothing tranquillity.
‘No,’ Jonny whispered into her ear. Then, holding her a little more snugly, ‘I’m happy to stay like this for the rest of the day.’
Slipping in and out of consciousness as the day wore on, Abbie knew she had to make a big effort to rouse someone to her plight before darkness fell. She was certain now that the Mitchells had absconded with her belongings and while she was in no danger from them, she could starve to death if she didn’t escape from the house. No doubt they had rented this badly neglected house and owed a lot of rent. The side of her face hurt. Putting a hand there she felt a lump and broken skin. She must have struck her face on one of the occasions she had passed out. Then she remembered looking about for a missile to throw at the window in the hope of breaking it and alerting the neighbours, praying they would call the police. There had been only one thing in the room she could use. She had stood by the bed – if she wasn’t so dizzy she would have climbed on to it – and thrown a bakelite ashtray at the window. Her arm weak, her aim had been poor. The ashtray had hit the window frame and bounced back and glanced off her face.
The horror and disappointment she had endured then assailed her again. She had no voice to shout and screams emerged only as a rusty croak, burning her throat. The other thing she had tried and failed at was to break down the door. She had wrapped the musty soiled bedcovers round her feet, and lying on the floor she had tried to kick it in. The wood had refused to give. Had she banged on the walls to get attention? She couldn’t remember. The sickness and dizziness was coming on her again but she must try before she passed out again. She might not come to for hours. She might not wake up at all. Panic made her drag herself to the nearest wall, pulling the bedcovers with her. She couldn’t recall the layout of the house and hoped it was a connecting wall to the one next door.
Wrapping the covers round her hand she banged on the wall, counting to six before exhaustion stopped her. She listened. ‘Please. Please!’ she rasped. There was nothing. Fear mingled with determination and she battered on the wall with every dreg of energy she could summon. ‘Somebody! Help me!’ she croaked, but screaming inside, desperation eating her away, threatening to consume her, to send her crazed and unfit to carry on, to plunge her into ever greater peril.
She listened. Oh, why wasn’t anyone there? Please! Please God, please! Her ears hurt. There was a hammering in her head. Then her mind cleared and she thought she heard something. Thud, thud. Yes! Surely that was an answering thud, thud. She hauled up her feeble arms and thumped two bangs. She cried out in wild elation when she got back the same tattoo again. It might be the neighbour banging back in anger. If she kept it up surely someone would come round to complain. If only she knew how to tap out SOS in Morse code and let the respondent know someone was in mortal danger. She banged three times, paused, then did it again, hoping the neighbour would realize it was a message, a plea for help. She listened again, and received three thuds in return. She started a rhythm and got back the same number of thuds each time. It went on for some time. She grew anxious. Was it a child thinking it was someone playing a game? ‘I’m in here, damn you! Come and get me out.’ Her hands were in agony but she bashed the wall with all her might, keeping it up until exhaustion grabbed her in its wilful clutches and she collapsed in a wretched heap.
Sweating and panting, the room whirling, she could only huddle and try to control her breathing. Oh, please, please, whoever you are, do something. Send for the police. Tell them there’s something suspicious going on next door.
There was silence. She had failed. She was shivering, shuddering, bitter cold to the bone. How was she going to survive the last of the day and through the night? She felt herself slipping away. She was losing her last fragment of strength. She was losing consciousness and would never wake up again. She would be found eventually, a mess of bones and desiccated flesh. If only she could leave her parents a note. Tell them she loved them. Tell them she was sorry. Against her will her eyes closed.
A loud sound startled her, brought her round in a tremendous jolt. A terrified scream got trapped in her throat. Bangs and thuds, different sounds to those she had received from the other side of the wall. Someone was at the front door. She could hear a muffled voice. ‘Hello! Who is it? Who’s there?’ Her ploy had worked! Someone had come and was shouting through the letterbox. Somehow she must find the capacity to get to the bedroom door. She couldn’t risk the person going away, this might be her only chance. She had to make a lot of noise. Painfully slow, she crawled across the floor. Then, easing herself in position on her back, she kicked out and drummed her feet against the door for a second or two. Her feet fell like stones. She had used up the final drop of her resources. Her eyes closed. One last thought, she could only rely on fate.
‘What are they doing here?’ Jonny eyed Alan and Martha Killigrew as they entered Tom and Jill’s sitting room, which was furnished in a fascinating marriage of remnants from the farm’s former days and some new but not modern pieces.
‘Jill and I thought Kate should have some more young people here for the evening,’ Tom said, gaily mixing punch, laced with a little alcohol. ‘Her tea party was a great success, this should round off the day perfectly for her. We’re going to play some music.’
‘So that’s why Denny is here. I thought he was gate crashing.’
‘Don’t be so grumpy. The occasion isn’t for family only. Friends being here will help to make up for Kate not having her own people.’
‘She won’t want to dance.’ It was unlikely Kate had ever danced owing to her slight disability, and Jonny couldn’t bear to think of her being made self-conscious by one of these callow youths insisting on her jiving. He had spent an idyllic afternoon with Kate. She had been happy and relaxed and he would ensure she’d stay that way. Nothing must spoil her day.
‘I know what you’re thinking. Jill and I are sensitive to the same thing. It will only be some soft background music. Mum has suggested we play charades. We’ll make up two teams. I doubt if Kate has been included in that sort of fun before.’
‘I’ll organize the teams.’ Jonny would see to it that he and Kate were on the same team and that he was sitting beside her.
‘No need. It will be men against women. Denny’s older sister should be arriving any minute. It will make up the numbers.’
‘Huh.’ Jonny mooched off. He went close to Kate, pretending to focus his camera on her for more photographs, but really to listen in on what Alan Killigrew was saying to her. Denny had been bashful while handing over to Kate a small parcel that contained a plaster ornament of a ginger cat, the sort won at a fair, and then he had ambled about the room uncertainly, obviously unused to this sort of gathering. But Killigrew was older, had more status, more experience with girls, and he was flourishing his present with a confident grin.
‘You look lovely, Kate. Really lovely. Congratulations. It’s an honour to be invited to your do.’ Alan would have been bitterly disappointed if he had not been included. He liked Kate, more than liked her. It was what kept him hoping to gain a date with her, to really get to know her and hope she’d like him too as more than a friend. He had no trouble attracting girls and had never been shy with them. There were lots of nice pretty girls about, but Kate was different to all of them, she was special. He wasn’t about to give up any chance he had with her. ‘This is for you. I hope you like it.’
‘Thank you, Alan,’ Kate said. She kept eye contact with him for a minute to be polite, but knowing Jonny was near she turned and smiled at him. She had so enjoyed the afternoon with him.
‘Open it then,’ Jonny encouraged her, stealing Alan’s moment.
Alan made a wry face. Damn Harvey for getting in the way.
Jonny was pleased with his vexation.
Kate unwrapped the present. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful.’ She was delighted with the long tasselled silk scarf. ‘Jill, look at this. Mrs Em, see what Alan’s given me. It’s so soft and delicate.’
‘I’d decided what I’d get for you,’ Alan said, moving to look into her face in the hope of keeping her interest, ‘but I asked my mother to go to the shops to be sure it was exactly the right thing. The red and gold colours match your hair perfectly, Kate.’
‘It’s very thoughtful of you, Alan. Thank you.’
‘I’m thrilled you like it, Kate.’ He smiled a smile deep into her eyes. How he’d love to receive such a warm look in return. He was getting cross with Jonny Harvey for hanging about so close. The wretched chap wasn’t giving them breathing space.
‘It’s an excellent choice,’ Emilia said, noting Alan’s admiration for Kate. If Kate started walking out with someone Alan would be ideal. Tom and Perry would warn him to stay in line. Denny too was a nice boy. She felt sorry for him. It was easy to see he was feeling overdressed and gauche in his Sunday best suit, of poorer quality than Alan’s casual sports jacket. He had excluded himself from the crush of people around Kate and kept glancing at the door, probably hoping his sister would soon join them and he wouldn’t feel so much the odd one out. She went over to chat to him to put him at ease.
Jill gave Kate a hug. ‘You’ve had some wonderful presents today.’ The locket she and Tom had given her was shining round her neck. She was beautiful in her new dress, her hair richly waved.
Jonny wanted to be uppermost in Kate’s mind. He took the scarf from her hand then swept it over her head and placed it round her shoulders. ‘It doesn’t go with your dress but it will give you an idea how it could look, Kate, darling.’
Alan clenched his teeth. What the hell was Harvey up to? Damned bighead. It was Kate’s day. How dare he try to steal the scene?
Tom gripped Jill’s arm and pulled her aside. ‘What was that all about? Jonny doing that?’
‘Everyone loves Kate,’ Jill said, proud of her protégé. ‘She touched Abbie’s heart too and she wanted to do a lot for her. I overreacted and ruined it. If I’d been calmer and not so possessive of Kate, Abbie might be here now. You know, we need to be careful not to overwhelm Kate, darling. It was what Abbie clumsily tried to tell me. We mustn’t put Kate in another prison by trying to run her life for her. She must be allowed to spread her wings and live her life her own way.’
Tom nodded. ‘It’s hard not to want to protect her from every little knock. But you’re right, we must give Kate credit for being an intelligent and resourceful girl. After all, she’s survived so much. Don’t blame yourself about Abbie, darling. I’m sure she didn’t. I believe she went off because she had problems of her own to resolve.’
Someone had let themselves in through the kitchen. ‘Ah, that must be Annie, Denny’s sister,’ Jill said. ‘We can start the game.’
But it was Douglas Goodyear who came into the room. Jill and Tom froze. They assumed the worst about Abbie. What an awful time to come with the dreadful news.
Emilia saw Douglas. Her heart lurched. He was never an easy man to read. Right now he looked serious. ‘What is it? Have you brought news?’
The room fell silent. All eyes flew to Douglas. ‘Sorry to intrude,’ he said. ‘But I thought I’d come and tell you personally. Not long ago I had the pleasure of informing the Rothwells that Abbie has been found alive.’
‘Thank God!’ Emilia exclaimed. A cry of collective relief echoed round the room.
‘Where was she?’ Perry asked.
‘Well, that’s where the news isn’t as good. She’s in the infirmary, very poorly and on a drip for dehydration. Apparently she had been abducted from the railway station.’ He told the gathering where she had been taken and the appalling conditions she had been kept in. ‘She has many cuts and bruises from trying to escape. A few hours ago she managed to alert a neighbour. Not having seen the Mitchells – if that’s their real name – for a few days he was alarmed and went round and forced his way into the house. Of course, he called the police and an ambulance immediately. The police suspected it was Abbie, and as soon as they managed to talk to her and confirm it they phoned me at the hotel. It was a double relief for the Rothwells. They had just received a ransom letter demanding five thousand pounds, saying pay up, with no police involvement, or your daughter dies. It had been posted in Birmingham. The ransom was to be left at a railway station in Nottingham tomorrow. The Mitchells have tried to cover their tracks but the game is up for them now. Mr Rothwell is not up to the journey down, but Mrs Rothwell is travelling down on the train as we speak. The doctors say Abbie was found in the nick of time. She couldn’t have lasted much longer.’
Emilia had her hands to her face. ‘Poor Abbie. Douglas, what time is Honor’s train due in? Perry and I will meet her.’
Absorbing this news, and because her emotions had been running wonderfully high all day, Kate couldn’t prevent herself bursting into tears. Alan reached for her, but Jonny had made sure he was closer to her and he took her into his arms. ‘It’s all right, darling. Abbie’s safe and will soon get better.’
‘I know,’ Kate sobbed, pressing her face into his chest. ‘It’s the best present I could ever have had on my birthday.’
And this is mine, Jonny thought, relishing the sweet sensations of cradling her, comforting her. Then it hit him like a gale force wind, why he had sought this so eagerly, why it meant so much to him. He had never thought it would happen to him but the impossible had occurred. He had fallen in love with Kate. And it wasn’t a good thing, it was wrong, horribly wrong. He was twice her age, old enough to be her father. He was worldly while she enjoyed a simple everyday life. He let her go and was shaken at how reluctant he was to do so. His arms felt empty, he was bereft not to have her close to him and at the same time horrified at the situation. He fumbled with his camera to obscure his confusion. He couldn’t let Kate know his true feelings. It would scare her. She might end up hating him. He hated himself at that moment for he knew he couldn’t help himself. He loved Kate with all his being and he didn’t have the strength to do the right thing. Which was to stay away from her.