In Search of Hope (4 page)

‘Can you prove that?’

Outside his work, he’d rarely met anyone quite so suspicious. For answer, he reached up to the highest shelf of the dresser and took down the farewell photo, offering it to her.

She took it from him, staring at the line-up.

Too late, he remembered that he’d been in a wheelchair at the time, hated photos of himself in the damned thing.

‘You were invalided out?’

He shrugged. ‘Car accident. We were chasing a guy who’d shot a woman. It happens.’

‘I hope you caught him.’

‘Not then, but later on my colleagues did, yes.’ By that time he was in hospital, starting the long journey back to full health and mobility – well, almost full mobility.

‘Thank you.’ She relaxed visibly, gave him back the photo and went to sit down near her son.

‘I’m Joss Atherton, by the way.’

‘Libby P— No, I won’t use that name any longer. I only left my husband today and I’m not used to giving my maiden name yet.’ She frowned, head on one side, mouthing something, as if trying it out. ‘How does Libby King sound to you?’

‘You must be Rose’s granddaughter.’

‘You knew my grandmother?’

‘We were neighbours for years and she was my landlady.’

‘I hadn’t seen her since I was twelve.’ Her voice thickened. ‘I didn’t know she was still alive. I was told she’d died a few years ago.’

‘She kept an eye on you, though, even had photos of you and the boy. After she died, your stepfather told the lawyer you’d gone overseas and he didn’t know where you were.’

She gaped at him. ‘Walter knew perfectly well where I was.’

‘He swore he didn’t.’

‘That was … even meaner than I’d have expected from him. We didn’t part on the best of terms after my mother died, but to do that …’

‘I long ago came to the conclusion that some people are born nasty. Tea or coffee? And how do you like it?’

‘Coffee. White, no sugar, please.’

He sorted that out and handed her the mug. ‘Milk all right for the lad?’

‘Ned would love a drink of milk. Thank you.’

‘And a biscuit?’

She nodded, cradling her mug in her hands for the warmth. She still looked pale and the bruises startled him every time he looked at her.

‘I found a letter from the lawyer in the rubbish last night,’ she volunteered suddenly. ‘My husband – my
ex
now – had kept the information from me.’

‘Why did you go round to the back of the cottage?’

‘The lawyer said Gran’s spare door key was there, hidden on the lintel.’

‘Ah. We had some prowlers two days ago and I took it down. I’ve been a bit preoccupied with something and I forgot to let Henry know.’ He walked across to the mantelpiece. ‘Here.’ He handed her a key.

Then he frowned. ‘It’ll probably be cold and feel a bit damp. Look, I’ll nip next door and switch on the central heating for you. You don’t want to take that lad in there till it’s warmed up.’ He surprised himself with that offer, because lately he hadn’t wanted to get involved in other people’s troubles. But she looked so vulnerable and that bruise really upset him. ‘Won’t be a moment.’

When he got back he asked, ‘How about I open a tin of soup and make us some cheese and ham toasties to go with it?’

She hesitated, then her eyes went to the boy. ‘Thank you. That’d be very kind.’

‘Kind’ wasn’t the way people usually described him these days. ‘Grumpy’ was the word most commonly used. He wasn’t sure he was fit for this Good Samaritan role, or that he even wanted it. Except that she’d fainted. And the boy was only four.

‘No trouble.’ He busied himself getting the food ready, which avoided the need to make meaningless small talk, at least. He’d never been good at small talk, except with children. They were so honest, so easy to chat with. Still, he couldn’t stay completely silent.

He searched his mind for something to say. ‘You’ll be living next door for a while, will you?’

‘Yes. It’s a condition of the legacy.’

He knew that, because he was one of the trustees, but they hadn’t been sure she’d comply. ‘Rose told me.’

Libby let out a mirthless laugh. ‘It’s a godsend, that house is. I’m twenty-seven and I only have the money in my purse and the things I slung in the car this morning.’

‘If I can do anything to help you settle in, don’t hesitate to ask.’

Suspicion was back in her face, and her tone was harsh suddenly. ‘Why should you help me?’

‘Because I was very fond indeed of Rose and she worried about you. It’s the last thing I can do for her.’

‘Oh. She was … a lovely woman. I really missed her, but children are so helpless about where they live and who they see. When my mother remarried, my stepfather cut the connection because Rose had told my mother not to marry him. She was right, too. It wasn’t a happy marriage and he got all Mum’s money when she died.’

He let the words sink into silence for a moment or two. ‘I’d better tell you that I’m one of the executors for Rose’s will. I probably ought to tell you as well that she left me this cottage. I hope you don’t mind?’

‘It was hers to leave as she pleased and it sounds like you were a good friend to her.’

‘She was a good friend to me after the accident.’ He hesitated again, wondering whether to get further involved, but he couldn’t bear her to make a major mistake. ‘You’re going to need some help straight away about one thing.’

‘What?’

‘You need to contact the domestic violence unit and put that beating on record, with photographs.’

She shivered. ‘My friend took some photos, but … I think Steven might murder me if I use them.’

‘We can get you into a refuge if he pursues you and …’ He broke off. ‘No, we can’t. There are conditions to your inheritance. You have to live in the house for six months. But I do think it’s essential to put this on record.’ He indicated her bruises.

She sighed. ‘I’ll think about it tomorrow.’

He let the matter drop. She was white with exhaustion and the bruises wouldn’t go away overnight. He’d planted the seeds and could only hope they’d germinate. He didn’t feel very hopeful. He’d seen it all too often. Women too frightened of their abusive husbands to do anything about reporting them to the authorities. He’d ring Henry first thing in the morning and get him on side about this.

He ate slowly and watched her eat, not saying anything else. She kept an eye on her son as she cleared her plate. He could see it was an effort and she was forcing the food down, but it showed she had some common sense and he didn’t think it was his imagination that she was gradually getting a little more colour in her face.

The boy made a mess but he too cleared every bit of food put before him. When he spoke to his mother, her expression softened and she replied quietly, at one stage stroking his hair back with one hand and smiling down at him. It was a lovely smile, even from a battered face.

Afterwards, Joss helped Libby carry all the things she’d brought with her from the car into the house next door. He stacked most of them in the front room and took the two suitcases of clothes upstairs. Then he left.

‘Don’t hesitate to come and ask if you need help.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Lock the door carefully behind me. Slide the bolts as well, just to be sure.’

She nodded. He could see that she understood what he was saying.

He lay awake worrying about her. The husband could come after her and cause trouble.

He worried too that this woman stirred something inside him, something that had been missing for a while.
Oh, no, you don’t!
he told his body.
You’ve got enough on your plate building a new life.

He wasn’t getting involved with any woman. Relationships didn’t fit in with the sort of work Leon could offer him.

He was being stupid, letting his imagination run wild. He’d only met her this evening.

In the morning he felt even more stupid, because he’d dreamed about her, too – and it had been a lovely dream.

Steven Pulford was later than usual getting home from work. The last meeting had taken far longer than expected, after which the CEO had invited them to have a drink with him, to celebrate. You didn’t turn down invitations like that, unless you were stupid.

His car sounded a bit rough, needed a service. He’d better get Libby to arrange that soon.

He sighed and wriggled his shoulders as he pulled up at the house and clicked the remote to open the garage door. It had been a long, tiring day. He hoped Libby wouldn’t be awkward tonight. He hadn’t meant to hit her so hard, but she’d forced him to chastise her, talking about divorce. No, surely she’d have learned her lesson.

It wasn’t till he was driving into the garage that he realised her car wasn’t there. He stiffened. Where was she? She knew he liked her to be ready with his meal when he got back from work. Anyway, she
never
went out on her own in the evenings. He didn’t allow it.

The kitchen was in chaos, with cupboard doors open and a packet of sugar spilled on the floor.

He guessed at once what had happened. She’d run away.

Well, she wouldn’t get far. You needed money for that and he’d made sure she had very little. Unless she’d gone into a women’s refuge, and even if she had, he’d find her.

He walked slowly through the house, checking every room. She’d taken a lot of her clothes, and most of Ned’s, too.

‘You will definitely regret this, Libby,’ he muttered.

He swept up the sugar first, annoyed by the crunching sound it made underfoot and the stickiness it left behind. When he started to get his own meal, he found the fridge nearly empty of fresh things. She’d taken those too. No thought of how he’d cope, the selfish cow.

He didn’t start thinking clearly until he’d eaten and poured himself a glass of wine. He was never at his best on an empty stomach.

Where would she go that required her to take food with her? Not a refuge, he reasoned.

She had no close family left. He got up to stare down the street, wondering if any of the neighbours had seen her leave. But he wasn’t going to ask them. He’d never encouraged neighbours to poke their noses into his business and he wasn’t going to start now.

In the end, he phoned her stepfather. ‘Walter, keep this to yourself, but Libby’s gone AWOL. She hasn’t come to you, has she?’

‘No. I’d have sent her straight back if she had. She hasn’t stayed in touch since her mother died, not even a Christmas card, and after all I did for her, too. When did she leave?’

‘Earlier today.’

‘Ungrateful bitch. She should have counted herself lucky to marry a strong man like you.’

‘Thank you. Er … you can’t think of anywhere else she’d go?’

‘Not really. That nosey grandmother isn’t still alive, or I’d say Rochdale. Was it this year or last that she died?’

‘She died at the end of last year.’

‘Good riddance to her.’

Walter’s voice was slurred and Steven realised he was half-cut. He’d wondered once or twice whether Walter had a drink problem.

Steven would never allow himself to rely on drink, or on anything but himself. He realised the other man was speaking and paid careful attention again.

‘It’s so long since Joanna and Libby left Rochdale, I doubt she knows anyone there now.’

‘Hmm. Well, I’ll find her, I promise you.’

‘Good luck. If you want her back, that is.’

‘Oh, I do. She married me, made promises, and she’s damned well going to stick to them. Besides, she’s an excellent housekeeper and I have a son to raise.’

Where to start, Steven wondered as he put the phone down. He didn’t want word to get out at work that Libby had left him. He’d have to set about this quietly.

He paused, wine glass raised to his lips. His son. Maybe Ned was the key. Maybe he should consult his lawyer about getting custody. If he got his son back, Libby would follow. He smiled and drank a delicate mouthful of wine, then set to work cleaning up the house.

He could not and would not live in a pigsty.

But he’d find Libby. Oh, yes. And his son.

In the morning Libby woke early, unable to figure out for a moment where she was. She glanced sideways to see Ned fast asleep beside her, looking utterly angelic, the only time he ever did. She smiled at him, then stared round the bedroom. They were at Grandma Rose’s.

Her son didn’t usually share her bed, but the poor little love had been nervous of the strange house, so she’d made an exception last night.

‘Mummy!’ Ned sat up, beaming at her, and she quickly took him to the bathroom.

‘You can come here to wee-wee on your own from now on,’ she told him. ‘Look, I’ve put your special seat here.’

He nodded, seeming relieved by the sight of the familiar object. He looked round the bathroom, which was old-fashioned. ‘Where’s the shower?’

‘There isn’t one. There’s only a bath in this house.’

‘I like baths. Where’s my ducky?’

Oh, damn! She hadn’t thought to bring his duck and bath toys. ‘He’s still in his old home. We’ll buy you a new ducky for this house.’ As Ned’s mouth began to wobble and shift into a square shape, the forerunner to tears, she said hastily, ‘Come on. We’ll get our breakfast first then have our baths.’

That distracted him. He was always hungry in the mornings. She had completely lost her appetite, but knew she had to keep up her strength, so forced down a bowl of cereal.

She kept an eye on the clock and by half past eight, she was dressing Ned in his outdoor clothes, ready to go and see the lawyer. The sooner the better.

As soon as she went outside, Joss came out to greet her, which suggested he’d been watching out for her. He looked casual and relaxed this morning in jeans, a plain grey top over a blue checked shirt and sneakers. She thought the lock of hair standing upright at the back of his head looked cute.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thank you. I’m just off to see Mr Greaves.’

‘And the domestic violence squad? You will go and make a complaint to them, won’t you? I’ve written down their address.’ He held out a slip of paper.

She took it reluctantly. ‘I’m … not sure.’ She hated the thought of exposing her body and her troubles to strangers. Besides, she already had some photos and a witness. ‘Must go.’