Although they were gradually establishing a relationship with each other, living in the same house with her father wasn’t all that easy, Janey thought.
There was a natural tension between them – too many things left unsaid, as if they’d erected a dam that would sweep them away on a tidal wave of recriminations if breached. Behind the wall of that dam the pressure was building up.
Seeking ways to lessen it Janey asked him about her mother one evening.
From his position in front of the fire Jack gazed sharply at her. He didn’t want to be reminded of Margaret, or the manner of her death.
Crossed-legged in an old-fashioned armchair, she was darning a hole in one of Saffy’s mittens. Her braided hair hung over her shoulder and her mouth was pursed in concentration as she wove the needle in and out.
‘Why do you want to know?’
She looked up then, her eyes registering surprise at the roughly uttered query. ‘I can’t remember her, you see.’
‘Does it matter after all this time?’
A tiny flicker of hurt replaced the surprise. Her teeth bit through the length of blue wool she’d been darning with. She replaced the needle in a small sewing box, shut the lid, and then sat the mitten on top of its twin.
‘I suppose not. They say what you’ve never had you never miss. I’m curious, that’s all. I’ve never even seen a photograph of her.’
Why did she have the ability to make him feel so guilty?
‘I’m sorry. I should have realized.’ Fetching a dog-eared album from the cupboard, he placed it in her lap. As she flipped past sepia photographs he heard himself saying inconsequential things like: ‘Your grandparents ... this is Mary when she was little ... me when I first joined the air force.’
Janey slipped him a smile. ‘We’re alike, aren’t we?’
Her observation pleased him. He’d thought he was beyond ego, thought he’d been purged of it in prison. Slightly embarrassed by its re-emergence, he ruffled her hair before stabbing a finger at the album. ‘That’s Margaret ... your mother.’
Her breath swooped in surprise. It could have been Linda gazing out from the photograph, a softer less poised Linda. Her mother was sitting on a park bench with a baby on her lap. There was a self-conscious smile on her face.
‘Is that me on her lap?’
Jack had lived with the photograph all the years he’d been inside, that, and the painting of the squirrels. He’d lived in the past and had resented Mary telling him of Janey’s success. He hadn’t wanted her to grow up without him.
‘Yes, that’s you.’
Janey thought, it was hard to imagine this woman was her mother and had fed her from her breast, loved her and looked after her. She bore no resemblance to her and looked too much like Linda for comfort.
She stared at it a long time, as if by doing so she could establish some thread of rapport. But all she experienced was a faint sense of regret. It was Pamela who’d been her mother, Pamela she’d loved. She closed the book with a faint sigh of regret.
‘There’s a couple more.’
‘Not now.’ Her eyes engaged his. ‘Tell me about her.’
Jack’s eyes clouded over and he turned away. ‘It’s not a good idea to rake over the past.’
‘I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to tell me about my mother.’ Anger clawed at her insides. ‘All my life I’ve been told she was wicked, that she brought shame on the family. Her actions rebounded on my life in ways you’ll never know, ways I’m just beginning to come to terms with. I’m your daughter – your child and hers. I need, and have the right to know her. Tell me, did you love her?’
Her anger took him by surprise. She’d been a baby when Margaret had died. He’d never stopped to consider her death might have had a ripple effect. But of course, it would have. He shouldn’t deny Janey any knowledge he had of her mother. ‘Of course I loved her. How could you imagine otherwise?’
‘Quite easily.’ She gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Sometimes men say one thing and mean another. Saffy is proof of that. Even so, I didn’t contemplate doing what my mother did.’
Now it was his turn for anger. ‘You know nothing of the circumstances. If you’d been as desperate as Margaret . She already had two children and when she became pregnant again ... she must have been desperate. Perhaps if you’d been married to a man who abused –’
‘I was bullied by the same man, and for years,’ she reminded him quietly.
He gazed into the wounded eyes of child he’d so carelessly fathered. ‘Your mother wasn’t bad, she was confused and at the end of her tether. If she’d only told me ...?’ He put his head in his hands. ‘She phoned me the night she died. She said she loved me and she was going to leave him.’
‘It’s all right.’ Her hand stole up to claim his. ‘I’m not asking you to justify what you both felt, nor am I blaming you.’
‘I would have died for her then.’ He shrugged. ‘Now she has no substance for me. I don’t know what to tell you.’
‘You’ve told me all I need to know. Shall I make us a cup of tea before bed?’ The tension relaxed and they became easy with each other again.
* * * *
It was wonderful to watch her father’s boat taking shape in the garden. He was skillful with his hands, each part lovingly set into place, plank by plank, fitting perfectly together.
‘She’s going to be beautiful,’ she said one chilly day as she took him out a large mug of tea to warm him. ‘When she’s finished we’ll sail out into the sunset and find a warm island to winter on.’
He grinned as he curled his hands around the mug’s warmth. ‘She’s not built to sail so you’ll have to make do with power. The original engine was salvaged, and is still in the boatyard.’ He was boyish in his enthusiasm. ‘It’s being overhauled. If all goes well, the Saffy Jane will be seaworthy early in June.’
He needed the boat, she realized, needed the companionship of the two men who were helping him build her. It amazed her how well the three of them, so different in temperament, got well together.
John constantly surprised her. He was astute, having a chameleon-like quality that enabled him to fit into village life as though he’d been born to it. His knowledge was infinite, his mind a sponge that retained everything he learned. Her respect for him constantly grew.
It was John who told her of country house sales, who advised her on what was a bargain and what was not, who helped her gather together the bits and pieces to furnish her home.
Among their finds was an oak dresser covered in chipped cream paint, which he was in the process of stripping back and restoring for her. For next to nothing she’d picked up a trestle table and six ladder-back chairs. An upholsterer in Dorchester was recovering the comfortable old-fashioned lounge suite she’d bought at the same auction. Charles had raided his attic, donating a hall-stand and matching oak settle.
As soon as she’d finished stripping and painting the necessary bedrooms, she intended to buy new bedroom furniture and move in.
They’d have company. Tim wrote to say he was being posted to the navy base at Portland in the New Year.
If you’re prepared to offer me bed and board I’ll help you redecorate, he wrote. I’m a dab hand at slapping on paint and it will be better than living in navy quarters.
She accepted his offer, posting the letter when she was in Bournemouth shopping for Christmas gifts. It was hard to juggle with a toddler and over-loaded bags amongst the crowds. By lunchtime Saffy was tired, and wanted to be carried. Bundling them and parcels into a taxi Janey headed for Mary’s house in Westbourne.
She should learn to drive and buy a small car, she thought, as half her parcels slid to the floor on Mary’s doorstep.
‘You look worn out, dear.’ Mary relieved her of the burden of Saffy, and Douglas took the bags. ‘Come through to the lounge where it’s warm. Have you had lunch?’
‘A cup of tea and a sandwich would be welcome. I don’t know if Saffy will eat anything. She’s half asleep.’
Saffy managed a smile when Mary removed her coat and hat, but her eyelids drooped. She fell asleep on the couch, a rag doll Griff had given to her clutched against her chest.
‘How are you and Jack getting along?’ Mary asked as she busied herself with lunch.
‘Mary ...’ Douglas warned.
Janey laughed. ‘It’s all right. I don’t mind. Dad and I are getting along just fine. Are you coming to spend Christmas with us? He specifically asked me to invite you, and told me not to take no for an answer. Please say yes right away, because I haven’t got the energy to argue.’
‘In that case, we’d love to.’
‘We’ve invited John Smith as well. He’s helping Dad build his boat. He’s very easy to get along with, and I think you’ll like him.’
After lunch, she pulled some of her purchases from the bags and tried to fit them in better. She’d bought her nephew a brightly colored push-pull toy for Christmas and set about wrapping it.
‘You won’t mind if I pop out while Saffy’s asleep. I rather thought I’d leave Justin’s present at his grandfather’s office. It will save me carting it home.’
‘I’ll drive you there if you like,’ Douglas offered, lumbering to his feet.
When she directed him to Andrew and Robert Pitt’s office, he expressed surprise.
‘I hadn’t realized. We’ve met several times at various conferences. You won’t mind if I come in to renew my acquaintance with them.’
‘Actually, I’d be pleased. I haven’t met them at all, so you can introduce me. I haven’t even met my nephew.’
To her surprise, she met Justin in the office, being unsuccessfully placated by a harassed looking middle-aged lady who introduced herself as Miss Frobisher. The inner door was slightly ajar, and a woman was talking in a loud, determined voice.
‘I’m afraid not. Nothing would induce me to stay on in that household. I wrote and told Mrs. Pitt I’d been offered another position. It’s not my fault if she forgot to hire someone else.’
‘I must apologize,’ Miss Frobisher said, trying to be heard above Justin’s din, and looking distractedly from one to the other. ‘I’m afraid it’s a bad time to call. Do you have an appointment? Perhaps you could see Mister Andrew. Oh dear ... I forgot! He’s absent from the office at the moment with a cold.’
‘I’m Justin’s aunt. Let me take him from you,’ Janey offered, feeling sorry for the women when the telephone rang. ‘Now then,’ she soothed as he was handed over. ‘What are you making all this fuss about? Tell Aunt Janey all about it.’
The chaos of the office gradually calmed. Justin stopped screaming and gazed at her hair as she talked quietly to him. He was a pale, thin little thing and her heart went out to him. She smiled as he took a handful of her hair in his fist, and kissed his soft cheek. ‘You can do that if you don’t pull to hard.’
He was soaking ... no wonder he was upset. Within a few seconds she’d located a plastic bag containing nappies, and Justin was made as comfortable as possible, considering his behind was almost raw from nappy rash.
‘What will I do with him?’ a distinguished looking man pleaded as he followed the woman marching from his office. ‘Justin’s parents are in Paris. I’ve got no idea how to look after a baby.’
‘Parents?’ the woman snorted. ‘They don’t know the meaning of the word. The last time they saw their son was four months ago, and then only for half an hour.’
The office door was too dignified to slam, but it managed a definite thud under pressure.
‘Oh dear,’ Miss Frobisher said again, sounding distressed.
Janey smiled at Robert Pitt and held out her hand. ‘Don’t worry I’ll look after him. I’m his aunt, Janey Renfrew, and this is my uncle, Douglas Yates, who I believe you know.’
The man looked so relieved she began to laugh. ‘I guess this is one of those occasions of being in the right place at the right time.’
‘Or the other way round,’ he said dryly. ‘Either way, I’m very pleased to meet you.’
It was Robert Pitt who went to collect Justin’s belongings, Robert who drove them all back to Winterbrook, with Justin’s cot strapped to the roof rack of his car. He seemed suddenly anxious he might be doing the wrong thing by giving his grandson into the care of a complete stranger.
She showed him round her house before they went to her father’s. ‘We’ll be moving in after Christmas. I hope you and your brother will visit Justin often. You’ll be quite welcome to come to my father’s house for Christmas Day, too.’
‘I don’t know quite how to thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange another nanny for Justin as soon as possible.’
Her heart sank at the thought of Justin being brought up without love. ‘Please don’t. I’m quite willing to care for Justin long term if necessary. In fact, I’d like to. The country air will do him good, and he and Saffy will be company for one another. His other aunt, Susie, lives in the village so he’ll be with family. I’m sure Linda won’t object to me looking after him.’
Robert Pitt’s lips tightened a fraction at the mention of her sister. ‘I’m inclined to agree with you.’
He said nothing more, he was too gentlemanly, but Janey could see he was totally disenchanted with his daughter-in-law. ‘Thank you once again. I’ll be in touch.’ He refused Jack’s offer to stay for a cup of tea, and inclined his head before he drove away.
Her father was unconcerned by the sudden arrival of Justin in their midst. His cot was erected with a minimum of fuss in a corner of Saffy’s room.
The cottage became an obstacle course of baby clothes drying round the fire, toys and pushchairs. Jack bought a playpen to keep Justin and Saffy out from underfoot.
A car was now a must rather than a luxury, Janey fitted in a few hasty driving lessons with Pamela and asked everyone to keep an eye out for a suitable car.
Saffy was fascinated by the new arrival, and it soon became apparent Justin felt the same way about her. Where Saffy went, Justin followed, crawling after her as fast as he could go.
‘He’s a solemn looking little chap,’ Jack said one day. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen him smile once.’
‘He’s not complaining quite so much, though. I wish he were mine.’ The grave, unwanted, and unloved infant had found his own personal niche her heart.
Christmas Eve came. The small pine tree Phil brought them was decorated with tinsel, colored balls and frosting. Jack set an angel on top as she placed the parcels underneath.
‘You can open yours now, if you like.’
She watched anxiously as he tore the wrapping from the parcel.
‘A compass ...’ His eyes held the suspicion of tears despite the smile on his face.
‘I hope it’s all right, it was the one I saw circled off in your catalogue.’ Suddenly anxious, she began to gabble. ‘I asked John if that was the one you wanted. Well, anyway, the shop said they’d change it if it turned out to be the wrong one for the boat. I’ve kept the receipt just in case. I don’t know much about these things, so if it’s not –’
‘It’s perfect.’ Placing it carefully on the dresser, he took her face between his hands and softly quoted. ‘‘And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.” This will be my star, Janey. I’ll have your name inscribed on it, and it will guide and inspire me ... as it always has.’ He gently kissed her forehead and let her go, his gruff voice telling her he’d been embarrassed by his show of affection. ‘Don’t think I’m going to give you your present now. As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the children.’
Sadness filled her. He loved her – he’d always loved her. That love had kept him going in prison year after year.
Her hand touched his wrist. ‘Was it very bad in there?’
He seemed to hunch into himself. ‘Being imprisoned robs a man of his pride and spirit. It strips him down to basics, forcing him to face his own worthlessness. All he’s got left to fight for is his own survival, and if he loses the fight for that he becomes dehumanised.’
How unemotional he sounded. No bitterness, no self-pity, just a factual statement. Even so, she was moved by this unexpected confidence.
‘You survived.’
A faint smile hovered on his lips as his eyes engaged hers. He straightened up. ‘I had something worth surviving for.’
‘I wish I’d known you were my father when I was young.’ She heard in her voice the wistful longing for something she’d missed – a father’s love.
‘Perhaps it was for the best. You might have grown up hating me, or spent your life yearning for something you couldn’t really have.’
‘Did you do that?’
He nodded. ‘I was wrong to believe I owned you body and soul. Nobody has a claim to another person’s emotions.’
This encroachment into the personal wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it was a hurdle that must be overcome if they were ever to be completely at ease with each other.
‘I don’t know what I feel for you, except I like you a lot,’ she said honestly. ‘When Mary first told me you were my father it was a shock. I couldn’t imagine how my own father, a man I’d grown to respect and love as a teacher and friend, could leave me for dead. Of course, I didn’t know it wasn’t an accident, then.’
He gave a small anguished groan.
‘Later, when I realized you were innocent I felt guilty, and somehow to blame. I was ashamed of myself, and angry with you. I tried to deny what I felt, tried to bury it. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that neither of us was responsible for what happened.’
‘Perhaps now is a good time to forgive ourselves.’
So they hugged each other for the second time as father and daughter, and a small flicker of longing began to grow in her heart. Perhaps one day she could bring herself to love him as unreservedly as he loved her. When all the obstacles were overcome she might be able to come to him and say: It was never good enough for me to tell you I know you’re innocent, now I can prove it. Now I can allow myself to love you.
When she could do that, perhaps it would be the right time for what he’d asked of her. But right now – on the eve of Christmas, when the whole world was filled with forgiveness and love she couldn’t find the charity in her heart to completely forgive herself.
* * * *
They went to the early morning service on Christmas Day. The fields and hedgerows were sugared with frost. The peal of church bells was so sharp and clear it was a wonder the enthusiasm of the village campanologists didn’t cause them to crack, Janey thought.
Glossy dark holly wreaths with blood-red berries decorated the church, candles glowed on the altar and in the sconces, and the nativity scene was a serene reminder of what Christmas was all about. Feet stamped against the cold in the porch, faces and noses glowed red, arms wrapped around bodies for warmth.
‘Cold enough for snow, I reckon.’
‘Not before the New Year’s rung in. You mark my words.’
‘Is that your Linda’s young-un?’ Ada was rounder than ever and waddling a bit.’
‘Yes ... that’s Justin.
‘He looks as if he needs feeding up to me. Plenty of cream will put some roses in his cheeks.’
Phil, self-conscious in his best suit, doffed his hat to smile at Pamela. Susie bounded up the path with the energy of a puppy. She was wearing a matching fair isle hat and scarf Ada had made for her, and her brown curls bounced energetically against her face. Everyone was enveloped in kisses and hugs.
There were sidelong glances at her father’s scarred face, mostly from the people who used the village as a weekend retreat. Briefly, she wondered how he stood it, and then realized he had no choice.
The weekenders tried desperately to fit in, arriving in estate cars with the required number of golden retrievers in the back. They wore polo-necked jumpers, flat checked caps. The women’s heads were wrapped in Queen Elizabeth headscarves tied under the chin with the point resting between their shoulder blades. They greeted each other in loud voices.
When the bell stopped tolling, villagers and weekenders alike scrambled for places in the pews.
The vicar was a short, genial man with a highly polished head, and a beaming smile. His sermon, a simple narrative about the meaning of Christmas, was well received. John arrived in the middle of it, and slid apologetically into a seat at the back.
There was a sense of togetherness amongst the congregation as they sang the carols. Delighted with the singing Saffy slipped from the pew to dance in the aisle. Afterwards, she clapped enthusiastically, which earned her several smiles.
She was swiftly scooped into Jack’s lap when he sensed she’d enjoyed the attention so much that she was about to do a repeat performance. He stuck a jelly baby in her mouth before she could protest.
Justin, snuggled in Janey’s arms, sucked his thumb and stared around him with round wonder filled eyes. ‘Your first Christmas of many, Justy,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘How do you like it?’
His eyes swiveled up to hers and then his thumb left his mouth and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He gave a soft gurgle of laughter and her eyes widened in surprise. Who said miracles didn’t happen? She covered his face with kisses and he chuckled again, longer and louder.
‘Me’swell.’ Saffy’s face was sticky sweet and her eyes shone like emeralds. She giggled as she received her kiss then the three of them were all kissing each other and laughing, until Jack elbowed her gently in the ribs.
The congregation’s heads were bent in prayer. She and her father gazed with amusement at each other, for a moment sharing the gift of happiness the children had just given them. Then she slid her hand into his so they were joined, and they bowed their heads.
They lingered for only a short while, exchanging greetings with friends and acquaintances before taking the children back to the warmth of the cottage for the excitement of opening their gifts. Afterwards, Janey put them down for a nap. They’d been up early, and still had the excitement of the rest of the day to get through.
Mary came down early from Bournemouth to help Janey prepare dinner.
‘How’s Douglas going to get here?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ she said mysteriously, and Jack choked back a laugh.
Later, after John had arrived and Douglas hadn’t, and she’d begun to wonder if he was going to turn up in a Santa costume to amuse the children, there was a toot on a horn.
Taking her by the arm her father led her outside. ‘Happy Christmas, Janey love.’
Green and red bows decorated the door handles of a shining, pale green Ford Anglia.
‘Oh!’ She couldn’t stop smiling at everyone. ‘It’s the most wonderful gift I’ve ever been given.’
Except for Saffy, Justin and her father.
‘Then you’d better get some practice in so you can get your license.’ He took a couple of learner plates from behind his back. ‘Once round the village so I can see how you’re getting on.’
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ she scolded. ‘It’s too expensive.’
‘Enough of that,’ he said gruffly. ‘Just get behind the wheel and let’s go.’
She lurched off to the cheers of those left behind, then laughing, drove her father round the village, waving proudly at anyone who was abroad. When they got back to the cottage, Robert Pitt’s car was parked outside the cottage.
Drawing the Anglia to a halt, she gazed with sudden alarm at her father. ‘You don’t think he’s going to take Justin back, do you? I couldn’t bear it.’
He gave her a hug. ‘You invited him down, remember?’
‘So I did. I hope we’ve got enough dinner.’
‘If the turkey was any bigger it wouldn’t fit in the oven.’
There was more than enough, and soon everyone declared they couldn’t eat another scrap. It seemed that now Justin had learned how to smile, he decided to smile all day, charming everyone in the process.
Taking her aside, Robert Pitt told her that Linda and Martin had agreed to her fostering Justin. ‘If you’re still of the same mind I’m happy with the arrangement. I’ve discussed this at some length with Douglas and have agreed not to insult you by offering a wage, but I think you’ll find the amount available to you will recompense you for his material needs.’
‘You needn’t have bothered, but thank you anyway.’ She surprised him by kissing him on the cheek. ‘Justy’s settled down very well with us, and I’d hate to lose him now.’
‘There’s no fear of that. I have to say this, Janey. My son has proved a great disappointment to me in his choice of both partner and lifestyle. I’m coming to the conclusion they’re unsuitable parents for Justin.’
She stared at him, wide-eyed. This man was quite formidable.
‘I’m going to ask my son and his wife to place the legal guardianship of Justin in my hands, although I wouldn’t stop them seeing him, of course. Should anything happen to me I’d stipulate that guardianship be handed over to you. Would you be happy with that arrangement?’
Of course I would. Linda has shown by every action and deed that she doesn’t love, or want her son. Janey did love him, and the thought of losing him was as painful as the thought of losing Saffy.
She nodded, but warned. ‘If – and only if your suggestion is acceptable to Linda and Martin.’
‘Thank you, my dear; I feel much happier about the situation now.’
They went through to the other room. Douglas was sleeping off his dinner in an armchair, and Mary was deep in conversation with John.
Saffy had climbed into the playpen with Justin, and they were playing quietly with their new toys.
Her father took Robert Pitt outside to see his boat.
She began clearing the dirty dishes from the table and carrying them through to the kitchen. ‘Leave the washing up until I come back,’ Mary said, rising to her feet. ‘John and I have decided to take the dogs and walk off our dinners.’
She decided to do it anyway, if just for the pleasure of seeing the two grandfathers together. They were talking animatedly, her father waving his arms over the boat, taking imaginary measurements.
I should ring Devlin and Griff and wish them a happy Christmas, she thought.
She left it until everyone had gone and the children were in bed for the night.
There were the sounds of revelry in the background when Devlin answered. The sound of his voice made her realize how much she missed him.
‘Hello, angel. Have you called to tell me you’re coming back?’
‘Don’t give me a hard time, Dev. I’ve called to wish you a happy Christmas.’
‘Thank you, but you needn’t have. I got your card.’ He suddenly chuckled. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come back?’
‘Devlin!’
‘All right, I’ll behave myself. Have you started painting yet?’
She ignored his question, explaining about Justin instead, then telling him about the house and that Tim was moving in to help her redecorate it.
He whistled. ‘It’s just as well you’re not coming back. I don’t want to end up with a house full of other people’s kids.’ There was a short pause, and then he said cautiously. ‘You don’t intend to give up painting completely, do you, Janey? You’ve got too much talent to waste it.’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps once I get settled in the new house ...?’
‘I won’t push you, I promise, but you won’t forget I’m your agent?’
He was so transparent she began to laugh. ‘How could I, Dev, you wouldn’t let me? Besides, if it wasn’t for you ... ‘
‘If you’re about to lather me with gratitude, don’t bother,’ he warned. ‘I’m not into sentimentality.’
‘I’ll let you get back to your guests, then.’
‘It’s Sandy. She’s brought a crowd of actors over and they’re eating me out of house and home. Do you want to say hello to her?’
‘Just tell her I said happy Christmas. Keep well, Dev. Once I get sorted out, I’ll be having a house warming party. You’re top of my guest list.’
‘Forget it! I have no intention of tramping around in cow dung and squeezing myself into a rustic cottage with blackbirds twittering in the roof and no running water.’
‘House martins.’
‘Same difference.’ He chuckled, then smacked her a kiss down the line. ‘I do miss having you around,’ he said, and hung up.
She couldn’t get hold of Griff, but a message was relayed back to her. ‘Doctor Tyler is in emergency. He’s unable to come to the phone, but said he’ll contact you as soon as he’s able.’
‘I hope you have a happy Christmas,’ she said. ‘I tend to forget there are people like you who have to spend Christmas at work.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you. The job has its compensations.’ A smile came into her voice. ‘A child’s life has been saved tonight.’
Janey waited until midnight before she went to bed, then lay awake marveling about the dedication of people like Griff and the nursing sister she’d spoken to. It made her feel humble.
* * * *
At Coombe Cottage the light in John’s study burned into the early hours.
It had been easy to get Mary Yates talking on their walk over the hill to the beach, though it was she who broached the subject.
‘I’m surprised Jack’s decided to build a boat at his age.’
‘He can’t be more than sixty, surely.’
‘Fifty-eight.’
‘That’s not too old, besides ... ‘ and he chose his next words carefully. ‘It’s always been his dream, I believe. The ocean represents freedom to him. I understand the boat is a replica of the one your father built.’
A smile twisted her lips. ‘Both Jack and my father were crazy about that boat. She was called ‘The Maggie’ originally. My father took her across to Dunkirk. It ... a stray bullet killed him. Jack renamed her Margaret Jane after Janey was born. I’ve never seen him so upset as the night the boat was burned, except perhaps when Janey ...?’ She shrugged, and took a deep steadying breath. ‘He still thinks Eddie Renfrew had a hand in destroying the boat, though nothing could be proved.’
John’s eyes narrowed. ‘Eddie Renfrew?’
‘Janey’s stepfather. They used to live in the cottage you bought. He’s a bad bit of work. No wonder his wife left him. She works up at the big house now, a nice woman, and good to our Janey. I don’t know how she put up with him all those years.’
‘I’ve met her.’
Mary bit her lip and flicked him a sideways glance. ‘I think Pamela must know more than she’s telling.’
‘In what way?’
‘About what Eddie got up to. After all, she was ... is married to him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he committed the crime that put Jack in prison, or those crimes against young girls at the time.’ She suddenly put her hand to her mouth. ‘You won’t tell anyone I mentioned this? Douglas said I’ve got to keep my nose out.’
‘I know how to be discreet.’ He took a punt, because Mary had grievances she needed to unload, and he had an insatiable curiosity that needed fuelling. ‘I’ll let you into a confidence, Mary. I used to be a detective before I retired, so crime is a hobby of mine.’
He could almost hear her mind ticking over. In a hopeful voice and without looking at him, she asked. ‘Would you be interested in helping me clear Jack’s name? I couldn’t pay you.’
‘I might, if the evidence is there.’
Her face fell. ‘I haven’t got any evidence except the word of Janey. She knows he’s innocent ... she said so. And I think she knows who attacked her. But I daren’t ask her. Jack has made it very clear she’s off limits in that respect.’
‘That’s understandable. If Renfrew was the culprit, there are many other people whose lives could be affected. Janey’s sensitive. She’d have had enough to cope with just being the victim. Jack loves her. He knows if she destroyed the happiness and well-being of the people she loved, it would live in her conscience forever. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.’
Mary flushed. ‘I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I love her too.’
‘Tell me about the other crimes you mentioned?’
‘Three young girls were lured into a man’s car, then drugged and ... and ... interfered with. They all said the car was blue. Eddie Renfrew had a blue car at the time. The police weren’t even interested when I pointed this out to them.’
Her indignation made him want to grin, but he suppressed it as he allowed her get it all out of her system.
He’d sifted through what she’d said, finding bits and pieces amongst the conjecture that could be useful or relevant. Now he stood in front of his chart and stared at it. He didn’t like loose ends.
Picking up a pen he put a question mark against the name of Pamela Renfrew. An uncomplicated woman, but she could hold the key to everything.
Persistently, the unsolved rapes ran through his mind. Mary Yates was right. It was an area worth investigating. Through fear or shame those types of crimes often went unreported, or were dropped before charges were laid. It wasn’t easy for a young woman to face her attacker in court and prove his guilt. More often than not, her own reputation was irreparably damaged in the process. It might prove useful to compare the three reported cases in the New Year, and see what he could make out of it.
He yawned as he went downstairs. Making himself a cup of chocolate he turned Nellie out of her basket by the fire and sent the reluctant dog into the cold night to relieve itself.
Hands wrapped around the mug of chocolate, he sat in front of the fire and stared into the flames. One thing was certain. Janey had to be protected. He
usually managed to avoid emotional involvement with his cases, but the sudden murderous rage he felt rocked him.
He could only imagine what she’d gone through as a child, and if he could bring her attacker to justice he would – whoever he was! Would he be able to forgive himself for what he’d done to her, though?