Friendship's Bond (29 page)

They had been so kind, Alvar and Maria. They had asked no question of herself or of Alec, Maria answering the attempt at explanation with a simple, ‘Aarno has said all that needs be said.’

All that needs be said! Guilt stabbed at her. She had not said all that needed be said to Leah. Ann shrank into the brown wool coat her grandmother’s savings had bought for the journey to Russia, hunched her shoulders until the collar touched her ears, but it did not shield against the barbs seeming to prick her skin.

She had told of the events leading to the attack by armed horsemen in that great square in St Petersburg, and of Alec being nursed by a Finnish woman, but she had told nothing of being robbed or of the shooting which had taken place aboard that ferry; she had said nothing of Maija’s sons risking their own lives in order to get her and Alec safely to England, nor of the kindness and help Alvar and Maria had shown allowing them to stay in their home for several days. Alvar had seen them on to the train when she had said she wished to return to Darlaston.

Why had she not spoken of those happenings? The reason had many times invaded her dreams, whispering its threat in any off-guard moment.

Had it been the howl of wind, the crash of waves hurled against the ship? The shouts of people being pushed into rowing boats? Did her own fear of what was happening make her imagine dreadful words screeched by a man forced to release his hold on Alec, leaving him to drop awkwardly into the wave-rocked boat? Or had she truly heard?

Ann hugged the coat about her as though to shield her mind from thought, but memory knows no barrier and so it came vivid and alive.

Alec caught in the grip of a man’s hand!

In the span of a breath the street with its silent shops was gone and Ann was in a small boat, a relentless wind throwing sheets of freezing spray into her face. She stared upwards at a man shouting down at her from the deck of a ship, his eyes even in the moonless dark glittering fury.

‘
. . . find you . . .
’

Alec dropped to her side, men began pulling on the oars, the boat was moving away.

The man was yelling, a raised fist jabbing the night.

‘
. . . take back . . . you die . . .
’

The wind was snatching at the cries, breaking them apart, tossing fragments into the void then, as if in a moment of regret, the howling whine had ceased and in that moment had come clear across the widening gap the threat which had haunted her every day, had her heart trip with fear at sounds in her every night.

‘
. . . any who hide you shall die.
’

‘G’night Bert, g’night Joe, g’night mate.’

A bevy of voices launched on the night swept away visions of choppy seas, of a ferry boat swallowed up in blackness, but even as Ann watched the group of workmen leave the tavern at the end of the street words echoed in her mind, words shouted in language she could understand: ‘
Any who hide you shall die.
’ That was the reason she had been glad to leave the house of Maija, to move on from that of Alvar and Maria, and it was the real underlying cause of her and Alec’s need to leave Leah.

They had stayed too long. Ann walked on. Too long the lie of silence. Too long easing her conscience with the thought, It was only imagination.

Now self-delusion was reaping its harvest. As she turned into Queen’s Place Ann stared at the chapel, her heart pounding at what she knew waited in the house set at the rear. Rape! A threat dreadful as that hurled at her from that ferry, a threat that was in no way a product of her imagination.

Chapter 26

‘I have made a mistake.’ Alec Romney looked at the man seated opposite.

‘How’s that?’ Edward looked up from the newspaper he had been reading.

Alec paused then said firmly, ‘I have been selfish. What I told you about my leaving the house of Grandmother Leah, of going secretly so as to cause her less sadness and provide Ann with freedom to live life for herself without having me to consider was I now realise simply a way of less pain for myself, the way of a coward.’

Edward studied the young face drawn with self-reproach. What was his background, who were his parents? Why had he been allowed to travel without one or the other? Why if he had relatives in this country had they not come forward to claim him and last but not least, how had he come to be with Ann Spencer?

‘My father said I should always try to be strong, strong enough to face the truth.’ Alec smiled fleetingly. ‘That is what I am trying to do now, Edward, to face up to what truth tells me. By leaving secretly I was running, not just from my friends, I was running from myself; that is not the way a . . . a man should behave.’

The pause had been brief, the correction sharp. Had the quick dart flashing across his eyes been fear of letting something almost slip from the tongue?

‘
. . . not the way a . . . a man should behave.
’

Edward listened again to the words in his mind and behind them others saying Alec Romney had not meant to use the word ‘man’. So what had it been substituted for?

‘My father he . . . he also taught me to face my responsibilities and not ask others do it for me. Asking you to speak to Ann and Grandmother Leah in my place was shirking that task.’

Seems your father talked a lot about responsibility but where was his own in letting a young lad travel alone! Edward folded the newspaper then setting it aside asked, ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’

‘That I will speak to them myself? Yes, that is what it means.’

‘Then you can come with me in the morning when I take the milk.’

‘No.’ Alec shook his head. ‘I am too much the coward to wait until morning, I might well run away again; it is better I go now.’

There were several ways he might describe this lad but coward was definitely not one. He was ready to confront what he saw as a mistake and to rectify it.

‘Wait,’ he said as Alec began to rise from the chair. ‘If you’ve made a mistake then I’ve made one. You thought to spare the feelings of Leah and Ann, I thought to spare yours.’

‘Mine?’

‘It was my feeling you had enough to deal with so I didn’t tell you of Ann being out the whole day searching for you.’

‘She is returned!’

‘Yes, but Leah said she knew she wouldn’t stay, that she would try to find where you were. It’s best you be prepared for her already having done that.’

‘What have I done!’ Alec slumped back into the chair. ‘I have been so thoughtless.’

‘That’s one fault you can’t lay claim to, it was thinking of Leah and Ann that had you do as you have. That, my lad, can’t be called thoughtless.’

‘That is kind of you, Edward, but I fear my father would not agree.’

Damn your father! Anger rose hot in Edward. Had the man been with you as he should have been none of this might have happened.

Shrugging into his coat Alec looked at the man regarding him across the small living room, at a face revealing unspoken emotion. Was that emotion anger felt against him?

‘Edward,’ he slipped the last button through its buttonhole, ‘I have seen the regard you have for Grandmother Leah, the love you hold for her, and I know the stupidity of my action will have caused her concern. I apologise to you as I will to her and hope your anger will not be long-lasting.’

I have no anger against you, only against a man who could leave you alone to face whatever the world might throw at you. Edward fetched his own coat.

‘It isn’t anger I’m feeling,’ he lied, fastening the jacket across his chest, ‘I’m anxious for the tongue-lathering we both be like to get from Leah for waiting so long before going to see her. Make no mistake this time Alec, Leah Marshall is never backward in coming forward when her temper’s riled, so if you don’t mind I’ll come along; two of us facing the music together will mebbe seem like we each get only half a belabouring.’

Leaving the house with the lad at his side, Edward smiled grimly to himself. Half a belabouring . . . was the moon made of green cheese!

She had not been there. Seated in the study of Chapel House Thomas Thorpe reviewed his visit to Leah Marshall’s place. The woman had not asked him into the house. When she saw him coming along the narrow lane beside the pasture she had waited at the gate, closing it firmly as he reached it.

‘
Good evening Leah.
’ He had smiled affably. ‘
I was hoping to find you at home.
’

There had been no answering smile, only the stony glint of displeasure in her eyes. ‘
Well your ’ope’s been answered
,’ she had said sharply, making no move to open the gate, ‘
an’ I reckons this visit be on account of you havin’ summat to say so say it an’ be done.
’

He had let the smile remain on his lips, his glance sweeping the field with its grazing cows then alighting briefly on the house before returning to the woman regarding him with frank animosity.

‘
I don’t be goin’ to stand ’ere while you admires of the scenery, say what it be you’ve come to say for when them cows be ready to come into the yard they comes givin’ of no mind to who might be a’standin’ in their path.
’

‘
I wonder, could Miss Spencer be asked to join us?
’

‘
You wonder all you like!
’

The answer had bitten back at him but he had gone on. ‘
What I’ve come to say involves her, it be best you call her.
’

A snort had greeted that, Leah Marshall’s arms folding across her chest as her displeasure deepened to anger.

‘
It be best do it!
’ she had snapped. ‘
Now I be a tellin’ what be best, you get y’self back where you come from while I still be civil enough to say you don’t be welcome rather than show it with a pitchfork.
’

‘
I told Ada Clews she should come see you herself.
’

‘
Ada Clews.
’ The folded arms had lowered. ‘
What be Ada Clews to do with it?
’

‘
She brought a message from Jinny Jinks and the rest of the women who’ve taken their custom away from you . . .
’

‘
Oh ar! Then how be it you comes, why d’ain’t they come? They knows Leah Marshall’s door be open to all ’cept Thomas Thorpe.
’

He had wanted to tell her then, tell her how he had treated her precious Deborah, tell her how he had killed her daughter then thrown her body into the river like so much refuse; he had wanted to use the pain of that knowledge to repay the snub of her words. But the cold voice of reason had cooled the rise of anger. Why use that weapon now when the slash of it could give more satisfaction at another time?

‘
I said for them to do that
,’ he had answered, taking the advice of reason. ‘
But when it were made plain none of them would, when I was begged to come in place of them how, as a friend, could I refuse.
’

The look on Leah Marshall’s face had said plainly that Thomas Thorpe was friend only to himself, a look echoing in her sharp retort.

‘
Then best do what it be you couldn’t refuse!
’

‘
Ada said the others as well as herself definitely wanted Miss Spencer to hear in person what I’ve been asked to say.
’

‘
Hmmph.
’ Leah had sniffed. ‘
Well sorry though I be to go a disappointin’ of Ada and the rest of ’em, Ann don’t be here; but don’t let that be a worry for I be able as you in passin’ on a message.
’

How long had she been gone from that house? Had she decided the boy was no longer her responsibility and so left the town altogether? Had she confided to Leah Marshall the demand he had made? Had saying she was not in the house been a lie, an excuse for not having her come to the gate? No, he could dismiss the idea. Had Leah Marshall been given the faintest inkling of what had been said then the pitchfork would have proved more than a threat.

Ann Spencer had played him for a fool! Thorpe looked at the quietly ticking clock on the mantelpiece. Eight twenty! Anger spurted hot in his veins as he walked into the tiny hallway. That pleading last night when she had run into him, her begging he turn the lad over to her had been playacting, simply a ruse to get herself away. She had no mind to keep to their agreement otherwise she would have been here by this time. Unless! He froze at the sound coming from outside . . . unless she
had
told someone, someone who now stood at the other side of the door.

Who might she have told? Whoever it was out there, why not bang on the door, why not demand to be let in, why not . . . ? Suddenly the answer came to him. Of course! It was an accusation made out of spite; Ann Spencer somehow held him accountable for the fact that she and the boy were unwanted in Wednesbury, so this was her way of taking revenge. What proof did she have of even an unkind word on his part? He would let it lie there leaving a brief shake of the head and a look of sympathy to do the rest.