Maddy recovered consciousness to find that she was lying on a bench and that she was bitterly cold, in spite of being swathed in some sort of covering. Slowly her foggy brain took in her surroundings – an unfamiliar room furnished with tables and chairs and oak settles. An eating house perhaps? Or an inn? With awareness came a terrible sense of tragedy that bewildered her at first until she remembered.
‘Davie!’ she exclaimed, trying to rise but hampered by her wrappings.
‘Don’t try to move,’ said a male voice, as a strong arm helped her into a sitting position. She knew that voice. It was Cal Whitcomb’s. Vaguely she remembered seeing his face before the darkness had claimed her. ‘Take a sip of this,’ he continued, and held a glass to her lips.
She smelled the spirits and turned her head away. The brandy Mrs Polsoe had given her still churned within her; if she drank any more she would be sick. Struggling to free herself from the enveloping folds of what proved to be a man’s Inverness cape, she exclaimed, ‘I must go! Davie!’ But what use could she be to Davie now? A cloud of grey mist swirled in her head and a high-pitched singing filled her ears, forcing her to close her eyes and lean back.
The pungency of smelling-salts brought her back sharply, and she found herself confronting a concerned Cal Whitcomb once more.
‘You must rest,’ he said. ‘Don’t even try to move. Just lay where you are.’
But Maddy found it impossible to be still, in spite of her physical state.
‘They mustn’t do it,’ she protested, trying to stand when it was as much as she could do to sit up unaided. ‘They can’t cut Davie up. I won’t let them! I won’t!’ She wanted to sound determined, yet she could hear the strain of hysteria in her own voice.’
Cal pushed her firmly back onto the settle. ‘They aren’t going to. That is why I’m in Exeter. Davie is to have a proper burial.’
‘Let me go! I’ve got to go!’ Maddy was too busy struggling against his restraining hands to heed what he was saying.
‘Stay still, woman!’ He rapped out the words to gain her attention. ‘Won’t you listen to me? Davie’s body is not to be sent to the hospital. He is to have a proper burial in the prison grounds.’
‘Proper burial?’ She stared, paying attention to him at last.
‘Yes, that’s why I’m here in Exeter,’ he repeated quietly. ‘I am here on behalf of the squire – his gout is too bad for him to travel himself. I brought a letter from him appealing to the governor of the prison, who is an old acquaintance, to allow your brother a decent Christian burial. He persuaded other people of note from Stoke Gabriel to add their names too, in view of the harshness of the verdict and Davie’s tender age.’
‘And the governor agreed?’ She dared not believe it.
‘Yes. The burial will be at nine. Under the circumstances, if you are recovered in time I’m sure you would be allowed to attend.’
‘I’m quite recovered.’ To prove it Maddy tried to leap to her feet, only to collapse with dizziness.
‘When did you last eat?’ Cal demanded, then not bothering to await her reply he ordered a dish of scrambled eggs from the disapproving woman who had been hovering in the background.
‘I don’t want anything to eat,’ protested Maddy. ‘A cup of tea perhaps…’
‘Where have your father and brothers got to?’ Cal asked, ignoring her comments. ‘We’ve to find them quickly if they’re to be at the funeral.’
Maddy bit her lip. ‘I wrote to the boys at home,’ she said. ‘I was sure they’d get here in time, but they didn’t.’
‘And your father?’
She avoided his eyes. ‘He was very unwell this morning, too ill to come.’
‘You mean you were by yourself when… You faced this morning entirely alone?’ Cal was aghast. ‘Was there no one who would have come with you?’
The landlady of the Three Feathers – that’s where we’re staying – she offered. She’s got a kind heart.’ The words came jerkily. ‘It was better alone, just Davie and me.’
Cal did not believe her. ‘No one should go through such an experience alone,’ he muttered angrily. ‘No one. If I had known…’
The woman brought the scrambled eggs and a pot of tea and set them before Maddy.
‘I’m really not hungry,’ she protested.
‘Eat it anyway.’ He scooped some egg up on the fork and handed it to her. Fearing he meant to feed her like a child, she gave way and took hold of it. Usually she would have resented his authoritarian manner, but compared to the other events of the day it was too trivial to bother about. ‘Will your father be recovered by now?’ he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘I mean, if I send a cab to the place where you are staying, do you think he will be well enough to attend the funeral?’
Her mouth full, Maddy nodded.
‘Right, you stay here and finish your meal. Every last crumb,’ he stressed. ‘I’ll go and find a cab. What did you say the inn is called?’
Maddy swallowed hastily. ‘The Three Feathers, in Lower North Street,’ she said.
He was not gone long, yet by the time he had returned Maddy discovered to her surprise that she had made considerable inroads into the scrambled eggs and toast. Cal regarded her near-empty plate with satisfaction as he sat down opposite her. ‘I’ve told the cabby to bring your father here, and your brothers, if they’ve arrived. Then he’s to wait to take us to the prison.’ Again his commanding manner would normally have drawn a sharp protest from Maddy, but on that morning she was simply grateful to have someone taking charge. Davie was to be laid to rest properly, that was all she cared about now.
The food did help her. By the time she had cleared the plate and drunk the tea, her head no longer swam, her knees had stopped shaking and warmth was beginning to seep back through her chilled body.
‘Kindly show the young lady where she can refresh herself,’ Cal said to the woman, whose disapproval had not lessened.
They were evidently in a small, select eating house which was not yet open for business. How they had got there Maddy could not recollect, but she surmised that their unwelcome presence so early in the morning was the cause of the woman’s silent censure. When she gazed into the mirror of the ladies’ room, she knew differently. The face staring back at her was deathly white, streaked with dirt and tears, surrounded by hair as wild as any harpy’s. Part mad woman, part woman of the streets, that was what the reflection looked like. No wonder the proprietress of this clearly reputable establishment was not happy at her presence. As she set about repairing the damage, Maddy decided that it said a lot for Cal’s forceful character that they had been allowed in at all.
Within a few minutes, her face washed and her hair combed into some semblance of order, Maddy felt she looked presentable again. What had happened to her bonnet she did not know, it had disappeared entirely, but with the hood of her old cloak pulled over her head, she felt she was fit to attend Davie’s funeral. She returned to the eating room just as Jack, pale and woebegone, entered. Behind him were Bart, Lew and Charlie, looking travel-stained and exhausted. They did not speak immediately, but held out their arms to take her in a mass embrace.
‘You must’ve thought us wadn’t coming, that us didn’t care,’ said Lew unsteadily, when at last they released her. ‘Didn’t get your letter until mid-morning yesterday.’
‘Someone’s going to pay for that,’ muttered Bart fiercely. ‘That letter should’ve come earlier!’
‘Us set off as quick as us could,’ Lew went on, ignoring the interruption, ‘making good time until nightfall. Us wadn’t so clear on the road as us thought, and in the darkness took a wrong turning.’
‘Halfway to Barnstaple us were afore us found out,’ put in Bart. ‘And though us walked right through the night us didn’t get here in time.’
‘How – how…?’ Lew stammered over the question he could not ask.
‘He were powerful brave, you’d have been proud of him.’ In her distress Maddy’s fine accent crumbled. ‘He sent his love to everyone… He were that strong, I should’ve been comforting him and instead it were him as give me comfort… Oh Davie…!’ She collapsed against Lew’s chest and sobbed.
‘You didn’t ought to have been alone, maid,’ he said, patting her shoulder. ‘You didn’t ought.’
The three brothers shot reproachful glances at their father, who hung his head in shame.
‘I be sorry, Maddy my lover,’ Jack said brokenly. ‘I be that ashamed of myself. I just couldn’t face it… I kept remembering him as a little un, always merry and up to mischief… He were our babe, you see, and I couldn’t face what they were going to do to un.’ Jack turned away, his shoulders heaving.
Maddy went over to him and put her arms about him. ‘I know how you felt,’ she said gently. ‘And so did Davie. He understood and sent you his special love. I – I think that in some ways it was easier for him without so many… us’d have been that distressed, and us’d have set one another off and that’d only have upset him… Yes, Davie understood.’
‘Us gathers ’tidn’t all over,’ said Bart. ‘Us’d not been at the inn five minutes but this cabby arrives with some tale about a funeral.’
‘Yes, if we hurry there’s a chance for us to be at Davie’s funeral.’ Maddy recovered her accent and her composure as she wiped her eyes. ‘We—’
She did not finish for Bart suddenly exclaimed, ‘What the hell be he doing yer!’
For the first time the Shillabeer men noticed Cal Whitcomb standing in the background. And for the first time Maddy realised that she had quite accepted his presence, with no hint of the traditional animosity. If she were honest she was extremely thankful for his presence. Without him she would probably still be keening her grief away in the gutter.
‘Mr Whitcomb’s been very kind,’ she said, choosing her words with care. It would not do to admit how much she owed to Cal Whitcomb personally; the details of how she had collapsed with distress in the road would only serve to increase her father’s pain and guilt. ‘But for him, there would be no funeral.’
‘No funeral? What be talking about, maid?’ Bart glared belligerently at Cal. ‘Trust a Whitcomb to be where he idn’t wanted. You idn’t going to gloat over us, boy, so I suggests you get out now, while you can!’
‘You don’t understand,’ protested Maddy. ‘Without Mr Whitcomb there would be no funeral. They would have sent Davie’s body to the hospital instead.’
‘Don’t talk daft, our Maddy,’ Bart retorted. ‘What would they do that for when he be already dead?’
‘I thinks I knows,’ said Lew suddenly. ‘I heard un somewhere, only I didn’t believe un. They send the bodies of them convicted of murder to the hospital for the doctors to cut up. That be it, idn’t it?’
‘Oh my gawd!’ gasped Bart and Charlie in unison. Jack gave a choking sound, not a vestige of colour left in his face.
‘But it won’t happen to Davie,’ put in Maddy. ‘Because of Mr Whitcomb, he’ll be buried like a Christian.’
‘The thanks are mainly due to the squire.’ Cal spoke for the first time. ‘He is the one responsible, the one who wrote the appeal to the prison governor. I’m just his messenger.’
‘But you coming all this way to deliver the message, that was bound to add some weight, wadn’t it, you being Davie’s intended target?’ said Lew shrewdly.
‘A little, I suppose,’ said Cal.
There was a pause, then without speaking, Lew stuck out his hand. He did it rigidly, as if he might regret it, but he did nevertheless. For a Shillabeer it was a major gesture. Cal took his hand and shook it. Slowly the others followed suit, ending finally with Bart whose handshake was the briefest.
‘I think we’d better be going,’ Cal said, then sensing a tension among the other men he added, ‘I am afraid I must accompany you to the prison since I have the necessary papers of entry, but when we get inside, I’ll withdraw. I’ve no intention of imposing on your grief.’
Riding in a cab was one more new experience dimmed by the circumstances. Something that Maddy would ordinarily have regarded with great excitement she now considered as merely expedient. In fact, they were not far from the prison, yet she was grateful she did not have to walk. At the sight of the plain frontage on top of the slope above the road, her knees began to tremble again, and she feared she might not be able to stand. Thankfully, this time when she entered the prison she was flanked by the reassuring figures of Lew and Charlie.
At the prison gate there was a delay. Cal went first and presented the documents which the warder appeared to query. Time and again the prison official glanced over to where the Shillabeers stood almost as if he were counting them. Maddy’s heart was in her mouth. Did the prison chaplain know they were coming? Would he wait for them? To her intense relief, agreement seemed to have been reached at the gate and the warder waved them in. Maddy had a strong suspicion that she saw him pocketing something slipped to him by Cal, but she may have been mistaken.
They were led through a series of bleak courtyards and dismal passageways, each needing to be unlocked to let them through. The graveyard, when they were ushered in, proved to be neatly tended. That was all Maddy had time to notice before her eyes were drawn to the new grave yawning open in the freshly dug earth. Apart from two grave-diggers, prisoners presumably, the chaplain was already there, along with a man who proved to be the assistant governor. They looked surprised at the Shillabeers’ arrival, but Cal engaged them in earnest conversation.
‘What be that about?’ muttered Bart. ‘They’m looking at us as if us bain’t got no business yer.’
‘I knows what ’tis,’ said Jack. ‘They’m bothered in case Maddy be staying for the funeral. Maddy, maid, get yourself off somewhere, this bain’t no place for you.’
‘I’m staying.’
Four pairs of masculine eyes stared at her in shocked amazement. In the village, funerals were affairs for men only. Maddy had not even attended her mother’s burial.
‘You can’t!’ objected Jack. ‘It idn’t…’ He had been going to say ‘fitting’, but the bleak look in Maddy’s eyes stopped him. After what his daughter had endured that morning, she could surely stand up to the rigours of her brother’s funeral.
Whatever the problems holding up the proceedings, they had clearly been solved, for the assistant governor gave a signal, and from a side door came two warders pushing a trolley upon which rested a coffin. A decent coffin of polished wood, Maddy was relieved to notice. Davie was not going to his last rest in plain deal or, worse still, a canvas shroud.
‘Wait!’ Jack’s shout brought the warders, trolley and all, to a surprised halt. ‘Wait,’ he repeated, more quietly. ‘Us’ll carry him the rest of the way.’
The four Shillabeer men moved forward and stationed themselves alongside the trolley. The warders looked rather nonplussed but stood aside without comment as Jack and his sons lifted the coffin onto their shoulders and carried it to the open grave.
The service was plain and matter-of-fact, with the chaplain offering no comfort, no hope of a life to come other than what was in The Book of Common Prayer. He gave the impression that a convicted murderer deserved no better, just as his family deserved no comfort. It was over so quickly that Maddy felt she had not said a proper goodbye to her brother. Looking down, the coffin with its first scattering of earth seemed a forlorn final resting place for Davie, who had always been so full of life. Then she noticed a clump of snowdrops growing against the wall. Ignoring the disapproving exclamations of the warders, she picked a few of the fragile flowers and one by one she dropped them, watching through her tears as they fell on the polished coffin lid. Young and fresh, she felt they were a far better tribute to her brother than any words.
Outside the prison gate they stood in an awkward group, five Shillabeers and one Whitcomb, not certain how to bridge a gap built up over three generations. As ever, it fell to Maddy to express the family feelings to Cal.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That’s a very poor way to express what we owe to you and the squire. Goodness knows, events have been terrible enough, but if they had taken Davie—’ She choked, unable to finish. With a struggle she recovered herself to continue, Things have been terrible enough, but without you and the squire intervening they would have been unbearable.’
‘It was the squire mainly. As I said, I am merely the messenger boy,’ said Cal.
‘That’s not true and you know it,’ Maddy stated. ‘And before I forget, we owe you something else – the cost of the coffin. Yes we do,’ she insisted as he waved a protesting hand. ‘That was no prison issue, but decent, polished wood. It was what we’d have chosen for Davie ourselves.’ A sudden thought struck her. ‘It was you who sent the laudanum, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘And you were planning to attend the funeral, anyway, weren’t you? Even if we hadn’t met outside the prison… you’d have seen him decently into his grave.’ The last was a statement, not a question.
Cal looked uncomfortable. ‘No one should go to his grave unattended,’ he said.
That explained the long discussion at the prison gates: Cal had had to persuade the authorities to allow six people to enter when his papers were for only one. Yes, and probably had to bribe them into the bargain. The Shillabeers looked at one another, then Jack stepped forward and cleared his throat. ‘That were a great kindness,’ he said. ‘We be much obliged.’
‘Your thanks aren’t necessary,’ Cal said almost sharply. ‘If you want the truth, I still feel responsible for the tragedy. It was my evidence that was the most damning, though I never intended it to be.’
Jack, still bowed down by the burden of his own remorse, could find it in his heart to be magnanimous to a fellow sufferer of self-reproach.
‘You spoke naught but the truth,’ he said. ‘It were that Linton devil. Twist the words of an angel, he could.’
‘You are very kind.’ Cal hesitated awkwardly, as if not knowing what more to say. Then he said hurriedly, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a train to catch within the hour. I suppose you’ll be going home, too?’
They were, but not by train. The Shillabeers would leave Exeter the way they had come, on foot. Their parting was stilted and polite. Maddy wondered how this new obligation to Cal Whitcomb would affect their lives back in the village.
For all of them, departure from the city could not come soon enough. Only leaving Mrs Polsoe caused any regret.
‘There’ll always be a welcome for you yer,’ she insisted. ‘You’m to come back soon, do you hear?’
‘Perhaps we will,’ said Maddy, giving her a farewell hug, though in her heart she felt that she never wanted to set eyes on Exeter again.
The peace and quiet of Duncannon was like balm to Maddy’s distressed spirits. Tired and footsore, they walked down the steep lane and there stood the three cottages on the river foreshore, nestling under the hill. There was no constant racket of passing traffic, the air was not heavy with lime dust and soot. There was just the clean salt smell of the Dart, overlaid by a scent of wood smoke. The cottage was not even dank and chill when they entered. Hot embers glowed on the hearth, there were logs stacked in the chimney comer and a fresh loaf of bread on the table – Annie and William’s work undoubtedly. Eveiything was so belovedly familiar that Maddy could have wept with the sheer joy of being home again.
When Annie and William came over to welcome them back, Maddy clung to them, their friendly, much-loved faces part of the pleasure of her homecoming. In time she would tell them of the terrible happenings, it would give her ease, but not yet. For the moment she was content to hold on to them, relieved and thankful to be back among people and places she loved.
Although she was glad to be home, she quite dreaded her first excursion into the village, but far from being hostile everyone was kindness itself.
‘There’s plenty of folks as wants to say this but feels awkward, so I may as well be the one as speaks up,’ said Mrs Cutmore, when Maddy went for tea and sugar. ‘Everyone be mortal sorry for what happened to your Davie. He deserved to be punished, but not like that. It were naught less than cruel and brutal. They heathens in the hot countries couldn’t have done worse. Us wants you to know as everyone feels terrible sorry for you and your pa and your brothers.’
There were other customers in the shop, awaiting their turn, and they murmured their assent. Maddy was deeply touched, the more so when she encountered similar sympathy wherever she went. She set off for home with her head full of messages of comfort to be relayed to Jack and the boys, and her basket full of small gifts – ajar of honey, a bunch of winter jasmine, a pot of clotted cream – donated by well-wishers. In the face of tragedy, the small community was gathering itself together and embracing the family with all the compassion it could muster.
Of Patrick there was no sign. That was the one disappointment in her homecoming.
Then suddenly she saw him. He was sitting on the wall at the end of the lane to Duncannon, waiting for her. As he saw her approach he jumped down and held out his arms. It was all the invitation Maddy needed. Ignoring her heavy basket, she ran to him.
‘I heard that you were back… but there were too many people about…’ He punctuated his words with kisses. ‘That’s why I waited here… where everyone’s eyes wouldn’t be on us. My poor love. What you have gone through. Was it very terrible?’
‘Yes,’ said Maddy simply. She still did not want to talk about it, and he did not press her.
‘It is behind you now,’ he said softly. ‘And you must forget about it. I’m here with you, to help take your mind off the unpleasantness by telling you how much I love you. That is what you must concentrate upon – how much we love each other.’
It was kindly meant, and Maddy cherished the idea of concentrating only upon their love, but she knew it was impossible. For once Patrick had misunderstood. He had no concept of the true depths of her suffering. She would, never forget what had happened to Davie. In time she would no doubt be able to push it to the back of her mind, but it would never leave her. She did not tell him this. He so clearly wanted to be her comfort and mainstay that she did not have the heart to disillusion him. It was preferable to savour the warmth of his love and be comforted by his presence.
‘I wish we had longer.’ Patrick stroked her cheek with his fingertips. ‘Sadly, this is a stolen meeting. I must get back before Mr Ford discovers I’m gone.’
‘Mr Ford? Don’t you mean Mr Watkins?’
‘No, I’m back at the Church House Inn again.’ He looked half shamefaced, half mischievous. There was a spot of bother while you were away. You recall Lottie, the barmaid at the Victoria and Albert? Seemingly she has a sweetheart who works in Penn’s Quarry, and this sweetheart made certain allegations against me that weren’t true – well, not entirely – and he threatened to bring his brothers and cause damage if I remained. The fellow is built like a barn end, and I understand his two brothers are constructed on the same lines. No, it was quite understandable of Sam Watkins to part with me sooner than offend three such heavyweight customers.’
Maddy laughed. She thought she had forgotten how, but the sound crept out of her unbidden.
‘And I dare say there were complaints from other quarters,’ she suggested, knowing full well that Sam Watkins was of sterner stuff than to capitulate before one isolated threat.
‘Maybe one or two.’ The comers of Patrick’s mouth twitched, then he flung his arms about her in a bear hug. ‘Oh Maddy, you are indeed exceptional. Any other woman would have been up in arms at my antics, but not you. But I am good for you too, aren’t I? See, I’ve got you laughing already.’
‘So you have,’ she smiled. ‘Yes, you are very good for me.’
‘Splendid.’ His kiss was feather light on her lips. ‘I hate to go, but I must. We’ll meet again soon.’
‘Soon.’ Maddy echoed the word.
The past, particularly the immediate past, could not be swept away like dust on a floor, however. There were many things that happened every day which brought back memories of Davie.
‘He’s out there somewhere, the wretch!’ Maddy declared vehemently one day after returning from the village.
‘Who be?’ asked her father.
‘Whoever put Davie up to that trick. He wasn’t in it alone.’
‘You bain’t still on about that, be you, maid?’ Jack said gently. ‘Forget un, that’s what I say.’
‘How can I forget it when I’m certain there’s someone walking the village who as good as killed our Davie?’
The brothers stopped spooning broth into their mouths and looked at her.
‘What be this you’m on about?’ asked Lew.
‘Some maggot her’ve got into her head,’ said Jack. ‘Her’ve the notion Davie weren’t alone, and that someone put him up to taking a pot shot at Cal Whitcomb’s hat.’
‘The longer I think on it, the more convinced I am,’ said Maddy firmly. ‘Consider it! Knowing what a fidget Davie was, can you imagine him thinking up a prank where he had to lie in wait behind a cold hedge for an hour or more? He could have been persuaded to do it easily enough, but he’d never have thought it up by himself. And there were things he let slip, about saying the stone was too big and wishing he hadn’t joined in the caper. An odd choice of words if he was by himself.’
Bart stirred his broth thoughtfully. ‘You asked Davie about this?’ he said.
‘Of course I did, but he denied it. Insisted he’d been on his own. I even went to Mr Attwill about it.’
‘Much good he’d be,’ murmured the usually silent Charlie.
But Lew intervened with, ‘What did he say?’
‘That even if we found there had been a second person, it would not have helped Davie. It would only have meant someone else going for trial as well.’
‘Then there’s no more to be said.’ Bart’s spoon stirred more quickly.
‘Yes, there is,’ declared Maddy. ‘We might have been able to prove that this other person was the instigator, particularly if he was older. That would make him the truly guilty party. Perhaps Davie would have just got imprisonment. I’m sure this other person exists and I mean to find out who he is. I was down mill this afternoon and the usual idlers were hanging about there as they always do, the ones Davie loved to mix with no matter what we said. I had a talk with them, hoping one of them would give himself away. No one did this time, but I’ll keep on. I’m sure it was one of them. How he can live with himself is past belief. He was responsible for two deaths, Ned’s and Davie’s, yet he isn’t man enough to own up.’ Maddy stopped, aware that her voice had been rising along with her distress.
Silence followed. No one else agreed with her about the existence of a second person. Maddy did not care. She was still convinced and she would go on searching for him.
Next morning she was first up as usual, creeping downstairs so as not to wake the others. It would be some time before it was light, and she worked at her chores by the soft glow of the oil lamp. Shivering, she lit the fire, went out into the frost-sharp darkness to fetch water; then she set the kettle to boil and laid the table. She blessed the familiarity of her routine, anything which helped to get her life back to normal.
When all was ready, she called up the stairs to where Jack and his sons shared a room, then went back to stirring the porridge, one ear cocked for the usual sleepy stumblings which meant they were astir. Stockinged feet thudded on the stairs as a bleary-eyed Jack entered the kitchen, his braces dangling round his waist.
‘Our Bart be out in the privy?’ he asked.
‘Bart?’ replied Maddy in surprise. ‘Not that I know of. I haven’t seen him this morning yet.’
‘That be odd.’ Jack looked perplexed. ‘He idn’t upstairs and his bed be empty.’
‘In that case he must have gone out the back when I wasn’t looking,’ said Maddy. Then she shook her head. ‘No, I’ve just been out there myself and there wasn’t any sign of him. How peculiar…’
By now the other brothers had joined them.
‘Us didn’t hear him get up,’ said Lew. ‘Where the heck have he’m gone?’
‘I can’t recall him saying anything about having to start work extra early,’ Maddy said. ‘I suppose he did get dressed?’
‘Us didn’t think to look.’ Already Lew’s long legs were striding upstairs. He was back in an instant looking serious. ‘His clothes be gone,’ he said, ‘and the stuff in his locker. I reckon Bart have left home.’
‘Left home?’ The others stared at him.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Jack scornfully. ‘Even if he did want to go, what need would Bart have of creeping off like a maid as was eloping?’
‘I don’t know,’ protested Lew, ‘but he’m gone, his things be gone and I found this. ’Tis addressed to you.’ He handed his father a folded piece of paper.
Jack held it towards the lamp to read more easily.
‘No!’ he exclaimed. ‘No!’ The letter fluttered from his hand as he sank into the chair and covered his face.
Maddy was at his side in an instant. ‘Father,’ she cried. ‘What is it? Are you all right?’ But Jack’s only response was to bury his face further in his hands.
It was left to Lew to pick up the letter and read it aloud.
‘Maddy got it right,’ he read. ‘I were too scared to own up but Davie kept silent and never gave me away. He were a far better man than me and I let him hang without saying a word. That’s why I can’t stay, not after what I done. If it be any comfort, I be paying a terrible price, for I won’t never have no peace for the rest of my days. I can’t ask none of you to forgive me – I won’t never forgive myself…’
‘I don’t understand. What do he mean?’ asked Charlie.
But Lew and Maddy understood right enough. They stared at one another with tense, white faces.
‘He means,’ Lew explained slowly, ‘that Maddy here were right when she said that someone else put Davie up to un. Someone as never owned up.’
‘You don’t mean it were Bart?’ Charlie exclaimed in a shocked voice. ‘Never our Bart!’
‘Looks that way, said Lew.
‘When I spoke up, I—I never thought of someone so close to home,’ whispered Maddy in distress. ‘I thought it was one of that rough lot down mill. I never guessed… I said some hard words, not knowing, and now I’ve driven Bart away.’
‘It were best he went.’ Jack spoke up for the first time. He had recovered some of his self-control and sat more upright in his chair, although his face remained white and pinched. ‘Yes, it be for the best. What you said was right, maid, even though you didn’t know you was meaning our Bart. He were equal guilty in the killing of Ned, and as for Davie’s death… as for Davie’s death, he were responsible for that sure enough. He were old enough to have knowd better, instead of egging the boy on. I think it best if us don’t mention his name in this house again.’ He rose to his feet, hauled his braces over his shoulders and reached for his jacket.
‘Where are you going?’ cried Maddy.
‘To work, maid. Where else? Can’t be late for work.’
‘But you haven’t had any breakfast.’ Still reeling from this new shock, Maddy clutched at her domestic routine for support.
‘Couldn’t eat naught, but I’ll take a drop of tea. You can be pouring it as I does up my laces.’ There was a grim air of determined calm about Jack as he pulled on his heavy boots. The task completed, he looked at his two remaining sons. ‘As for you two, habn’t you best be stirring yourselves?’
He did not wait for an answer, but drained his tea and strode out so swiftly that Maddy was obliged to run after him with his midday bread and cheese. ,
‘Does this mean us idn’t never to speak of Bart again?’ asked Charlie.
‘Not in Father’s hearing, certainly,’ said Lew.
‘What’s us to say if folks ask about un?’ Charlie persisted.
‘We’d best say he’s decided to go to sea,’ said Maddy. ‘It’s likely to be the truth, anyway. I expect he’s heading down to Dartmouth to find a ship.’
‘I expect he be.’ Charlie nodded, content with this solution. ‘Do you think he’ll ever come back?’
Maddy and Lew exchanged glances.
‘I doubt it, somehow,’ said Maddy.
‘Pity. I be going to miss old Bart.’ Charlie, too, put on his jacket. ‘Come on, Lew. Us idn’t doing no good standing yer jawing. Let’s be going.’
Lew stuffed his bread and cheese in his pocket, and turned to look at Maddy. ‘I be sorry us’ve got to leave you alone,’ he said. ‘Tell you what! You’m scarce touched that gurt book of youm. Why not take un over to Annie’s and have a good read? You’d enjoy un, the pair of you.’
‘I might do that,’ Maddy said shakily. He had a good heart, had Lew, it was thoughtful of him to be so concerned for her.
The cottage felt terribly empty after they had gone. In the lamplight, eveiything seemed forlorn, and the smell of scorching from the neglected porridge on the fire did nothing to lighten the atmosphere of gloom. Setting the burnt pan to soak, Maddy went about her morning chores, willing herself not to think of what had happened. She succeeded fairly well until she went upstairs to make the beds. It was the sight of Bart’s empty cot, and the door swinging wide on his empty locker which undid her. After Davie’s death, she had thought that nothing could hurt again, but this did. This was a new and totally unlooked-for pain. Strangely, it was not thoughts of Bart’s betrayal or his cowardice in not sharing the blame which filled her head, but memories of the younger, gentler Bart of her childhood. It was also grief at the loss of another brother, for from now on Bart would be as good as dead to them all.
Somehow she set about her chores, then steeled herself to go over to Annie’s. Annie was a sharp one, she would have to be told something, and the sooner the better, before she started putting two and two together.
‘Gone off to sea? Your Bart?’ The other woman received the story with astonishment. ‘You do surprise me. Your Charlie I could accept, he’m always been a bit of a wanderer. But Bart! And so sudden too. I’d have said his roots be too deep here for un to leave.’
Maddy felt herself go tense before the strength of Annie’s incredulity. Maybe it was an unlikely story, one that nobody would believe, but what other explanation could she give? Then to her intense relief Annie said, ‘Still, ’tis a hard time you’m all had of late. Enough to unsettle any lad. Your Bart idn’t the first to want to get far away from unpleasant memories, nor will he be the last.’ She put a kindly arm about Maddy’s shoulders. ‘You’m no need to look so wisht, maid. You’m going to miss him, I knows, but maybe this be just what the boy needs for a spell. A voyage or two and some seagoing vittles and he’m going to be glad to be back.’
Maddy knew better, though she could not say so. I’m sure you’re right,’ she said, managing a tremulous smile. ‘Meanwhile, I think those of us left behind could do with a diversion. I’ll bring Wuthering Heights over after dinner, shall I?’
‘That would be grand.’ Annie beamed. ‘I’ll be sure to have the kettle boiling.’
Before that, however, there was the morning to fill in. Long, empty hours when Maddy would have too much time for unhappy thoughts. As ever, hard work seemed to be the best antidote, and she was so busy cleaning that at first she did not realise she had a visitor.
‘If I’d known how little you wanted my company I’d not have gone down on my bended knees for an hour off,’ said a voice.
‘Patrick!’ For an instant the chair she was standing on wobbled precariously, then she was swept into the safety of his arms. Patrick!’ she repeated.
It did not matter that she was enveloped in a hessian apron, nor that she had soapsuds up to the elbow. He was there, nothing else was important. She clung to him, pressing her face against his shoulder. ‘How did you know I needed you more than anything in the world just at this moment?’ she asked, her voice muffled by the cloth of his jacket.
He paused, and she was suddenly afraid he might make a flippant remark such as ‘Don’t you always need me?’ or some phrase of that sort. She should have known better. There was nothing trifling in the way he replied, ‘I had a feeling. Normally I would not have intruded upon what I know is a dark time for you, but I had this great urge to see you. I knew you would be by yourself, with your father and brothers at work, and something inside told me you should not be alone.’
‘And so you came.’
‘Yes, I came.’
She had been sure that nothing on that grim morning could have lifted her heart, but Patrick’s arrival, and his reason for coming, achieved the impossible. That he should sense her need over such a distance, without any communication, seemed nothing short of both mystical and miraculous.
‘Bart’s left home,’ she said. Not even to Patrick could she tell the full story.
‘For good?’
She nodded.
‘Maybe that was why I felt your distress.’ He held her more tightly, giving her the comfort of his presence. ‘I know you’ll miss him, but painful though the thought is, I have to say this – perhaps you will find life easier without him.’
In the upheaval and upset of the morning this was something Maddy had not considered. Bart was definitely a disturbing influence in the family and had been for years. She did not want him gone, and certainly not in the present circumstances, but the prospect of a more peaceful life in the future did have an appeal.
Maddy raised her head and looked at Patrick. ‘I don’t know how you’ve done it,’ she said, ‘but you’ve made me feel better. Half an hour ago there was nothing but misery in my life, then you arrived and suddenly you’ve made me feel better.’
‘It’s called love, sweetheart.’ Smiling, he kissed her lightly on the forehead.
Suddenly she clung to him, driven by a desperate need. ‘Oh Patrick, what would I do without you?’ she whispered. ‘How would I live? Things have been so terrible lately! You are the one thing that makes my existence bearable.’
‘Dearest Maddy, don’t even think of being without me because it won’t happen. We were meant to be together, for always.’ His lips, at first gentle, became more insistent, as his hands about her waist grew more questing. The coarse sacking apron was discarded as one by one, with tantalising slowness, he undid the small buttons on the front of her dress. The softness of his hands on her skin brought comfort as well as arousal. In the midst of such misery he was her only happiness. As the one source of her joy, it was natural that she should go with him up the steep stairs to her attic room. There they slipped from their clothes and, revelling in each other’s nakedness, made love on the narrow bed. Her need for him brought an ecstasy of passion which drove away the darkness surrounding her. She had never realised that the act of loving could give such emotional relief. This irrefutable proof of Patrick’s love for her had blunted her desperate unhappiness as nothing else could have done.
Afterwards, when they lay sleepy and content in each other’s arms, Patrick drew the coverlet more closely about her and asked, ‘No regrets?’
‘Of course not.’ She was surprised at the question. ‘Have you?’
‘No. But I only meant to comfort you, I did not mean things to go so far. You were vulnerable and not for the world would I have you think that I took advantage.’
Maddy propped herself on one elbow, the better to look at his beloved face. ‘But you did take advantage,’ she pointed out. ‘And I am glad that you did. No one but you could have taken away the blackness; no one but you could make me see that there is a glimmer of brightness ahead, no matter how bleak things seem now.’
‘Oh, Maddy, what a creature you are for making a fellow feel good.’ He went to take her in his arms again, but desisted, smiling fondly. ‘No, I fear I know where that would lead, and I should have been back at the Church House half an hour ago. I must leave you for the present!’ He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his shirt. We have some serious talking to do about our future. Not yet – too much has happened of late to put you in a turmoil and it would not be fair – but soon. And then we really will be happy. Today will be a trivial incident by comparison.’
Maddy knew she should have felt ashamed for her lost virtue, but she could not. She still had much to mourn, but she also had a future, and that future was Patrick. With such a prospect ahead she knew she would survive anything.