Lonely Girl (20 page)

Seeing how Rosie had turned pale and was looking straight at her with frightened eyes, Kathleen felt the need to take a deep breath before going on. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but the news is very serious.’ Having controlled her sorrow for so long, she could no longer stop the tears from falling.

When Rosie made to speak, her eyes big with fear, Kathleen took hold of her hand. ‘Look, sweetheart, let me just tell you what your mother told me.’

She squeezed Rosie’s small hand in hers. Never in all her life had she ever needed to tell someone that a loved one had died. And Rosie was just a child, a sweet, lovable girl whose heart was overflowing with love for her daddy.

Rosie was quietly sobbing, the tears running freely down her face and her small hand trembling in Kathleen’s. She had seen how anxious her aunt was. She had heard her voice break with emotion, and now she could think only of what Kathleen had just told her. ‘Serious’ … the news was ‘serious’. So were her parents really splitting up? Was the farm about to be sold? Was her daddy in hospital? Had he been hurt and Molly was part of it? How bad was this news?

She did not care if her parents were splitting up. She did not care if her mother was leaving, or if she was staying. Or even if the whole family was selling up and moving to another part of the country. She cared about nothing except that her daddy was safe, and that he would soon be home.

Sensing the serious mood and being anxious for Rosie, Barney had been sitting bolt upright, but now he pushed up on his back legs and nudged his head into Rosie’s lap, his big, soulful eyes looking up at her as though he knew she needed him.

‘All right, Rosie?’ Kathleen asked gently.

Rosie looked up, and gave the slightest nod. She heard the fear in her aunt’s voice, and she was ready.

And so Kathleen told her what she knew from what Molly had said: that she happened to be in the barn when Rosie’s father came in.

‘… It seemed there was an accident of sorts, a bad accident, which involved your daddy.’ She went quickly on before Rosie could start asking questions she was not able to answer. ‘Your mother said she called an ambulance straight away and he was rushed to hospital.’ She took a slow breath before going on in a softer voice, ‘She said he had been badly hurt. So badly hurt … that … it seems he would not pull through … and … in the end, I’m so very sorry, Rosie, but there was nothing they could do for him. Oh, my darling girl … I am so very, very sorry.’ Without breaking down, she could say no more.

When Rosie stared at her in disbelief, Kathleen reached out and held her close. Rosie then sobbed in her arms, all the while calling for her father, screaming one minute, silent the next, and then sobbing as if she would never stop.

Kathleen herself could not hold back the tears, because of her pain for Rosie and because of the loss of that good man, her brother-in-law. But her priority now was to comfort this lovely, innocent girl, who had lost someone immensely precious and totally irreplaceable in her young life.

For what seemed an age, Kathleen rocked the heartbroken girl in her arms. ‘Oh, Rosie … I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I am so very sorry.’ It was all she could say.

Seeing her distress, Barney never once took his gaze off Rosie. He watched her with stricken eyes, while making a soft, oddly musical sound from the back of his throat, much like the low, subdued sound of an injured animal.

Suddenly, without warning, Rosie wrenched herself away from Kathleen and ran to the outer doors. Before Kathleen could get to her, she ran outside, fleeing across the garden as though the devil himself was after her, Barney right behind and Kathleen running after them both, frantically calling for Rosie to come back.

Rosie came to a halt beside the now dormant flowerbeds. There was a pond, and in the early morning light she watched the goldfish swimming round and round, while the water moved in slow curious circles around them. Rosie remembered her daddy had once made her a little pond when he got her a fat goldfish, but within days birds had swooped down and eaten it. Her daddy then offered to buy her another goldfish, and a mate to go with it, but Rosie said no, in case the birds came back and ate them, too. The thought of that happening was too sad.

But what Rosie saw now was something else. In that winter garden of neatly turned soil, the holly trees bearing berries, she saw her father as he was then, back home in the vegetable patch. The sun was shining and the flowers were in bloom. He was collecting the ripe tomatoes and plump carrots, which he’d planted some time back. He was so proud … and look now! There he was, smiling at her. Then suddenly he was gone and Rosie was in Kathleen’s warm embrace. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart … it will get easier, I promise you.’ Kathleen’s gentle voice shook with emotion.

‘Daddy’s here,’ Rosie told her tearfully.

‘I’m sure he is,’ Kathleen whispered. ‘He always will be.’

‘No! Don’t tell me lies!’ Rosie cried out. ‘My daddy is never coming back!’ Her cutting grief turned to anger. ‘He’s not, is he, Auntie Kathleen?’ She could hardly see for the tears rolling down her face. ‘Daddy’s gone and I will never see him again … Not ever, as long as I live!’

She clung to Kathleen, her heart breaking.

Then suddenly she was pushing Kathleen away and fleeing across the garden. She fled over the long bare flowerbeds, then out to the far side of the garden with Barney tight on her heels.

She did not know where she was headed. She did not care. All she could hear was her daddy’s voice calling her name … her daddy laughing with her when she was a small girl, squealing with excitement when he pushed her high into the air on her new swing. In her heart and soul, in every fibre of her being, she could hear his gentle voice full of his love and his great pride in her.

Kathleen was following her, shouting and pleading, ‘Come back, Rosie … Please, stop!’ But Rosie ran on. She had to get far away. She had to escape from the truth of what she had been told. Her father was dead! Those short words ran round and round in her frantic mind. Her daddy was gone for ever … gone for ever … gone for ever!

Behind her she could hear Kathleen yelling for her to stop so they could talk about it. But she was not about to stop, not about to talk. Not about to ever go home again because it could never be home from now on. Not without her daddy there.

She ran blindly on, tripping and sliding in a desperate effort to run away from the awful truth. Running faster and faster, just to get away. To get away and never come back!

Katheen could hear Barney barking. He sounded a long way away, yet she continued after them, calling to Rosie, ‘Come back!’ She could see Rosie with Barney at her heels, but they were far ahead. They had crested a little hill and were now gaining speed as they went. They entered the spinney and the last she saw of them was when they ran in amongst the trees, before being lost to sight.

Kathleen, determined to catch up, scrambled up the slope after them. She paused briefly to catch her breath, then ran on into the spinney, dodging amongst the trees, then on to some rough hilly ground with boulders amongst the clumps of grass. The path sloped steeply up and she was almost at the top when she stumbled on the uneven surface and slipped down, rolling out of control. Moments later, bruised and torn, she was brought to a shuddering halt when she caught her foot in a dead tree stump. The fall was bad, and in the desperate struggle to free herself, her shoe was torn off and sent tumbling further down the rough slope. She tried to stand, reaching for the shoe, and completely lost her balance, crashing all the way to the bottom of the path, where she lay breathless and in great pain.

She could see the deep grazes where the skin had been scraped off her legs as she fell.

She began yelling, ‘Rosie! I’m hurt, Rosie!’ When she realised that both Rosie and Barney were long gone, she decided the best thing to do now was to go back and get help.

And to that end, she began the painful journey home, going slowly so as not to lose her footing again. But every inch was agony.

After a while she stopped to rest and to assess the damage. The grazes to her legs were now covered in dirt and bracken, and when she attempted to wipe the worst off, the pain was excrutiating, so she abandoned that task, and gathered all her remaining strength to get home, though every inch she limped felt like a mile, and every step like a punishment.

After what seemed an age, she was greatly relieved to be on more even ground. ‘Come on, Kathleen, girl, just a little further. You can make it.’ Her spirits were stronger, but as she hobbled on, the effort and the continuing pain became too much to bear. She was too exhausted even to cry out. Too battered to care. Too weary to press on.

But with Rosie uppermost in her mind, she knew she had to. She told herself that however much pain she herself was suffering now, and however desperate and abandoned she felt, it was as nothing compared to what Rosie must be going through, alone and frightened, unable to come to terms with her grief. Her future looked bleak, and even those who loved her dearly could never fill John Tanner’s big, capable shoes.

Kathleen shed a few sorry tears. ‘Help her, Lord,’ she prayed. ‘Bring her away from the woman who despises her own daughter. Bring her home to the ones who love her, and with your help we might even fill a part of the gap that John Tanner has left behind.’

Thinking of Rosie, a deeply sad and lonely child out there somewhere, alone and broken, gave Kathleen a burst of strength, making her press on with fierce determination.

She called out, but it seemed no one heard her cries. With the pain worsening at every step, she found it difficult to go any further and she had to take a rest and catch her breath.

After a few minutes, she hesitantly pressed on, holding onto whatever she could find to help her along, while continuing to call out, ‘Patrick! Harry!’ But help was not forthcoming.

She was now in sight of the house but, too exhausted to go on, she fell to the ground. Yet she continued to call as best she could, though her cries grew weaker and weaker.

It seemed there was no one in that quiet backwater to hear her.

And then she was silent.

I
N THE KITCHEN
, Harry remarked on the length of time that Rosie and Kathleen had been in the sun-room. ‘I want to go down there and check that they’re all right, but I’m not really sure whether it’s right to disturb them just yet.’

‘Hmm.’ Patrick was thinking the very same. ‘I agree, they do seem to have been in there for some time.’

Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he was surprised at just how long Kathleen and Rosie had been talking together. ‘Give them another five minutes or so, then we’ll take a sneaky look, just to check they’re all right.’ He made a sorry face. ‘Young Rosie must be in pieces. Mind you, Harry boy, if anyone can help her through it, your mother will, although whatever anyone says or does to help her through this crisis, it won’t change the outcome, will it? Life for Rosie will never be the same. I know what she must be feeling, because it took me years to get over the loss of my father … your granddad Jack. You were just a small boy, but you were a great help to me just being there when I needed to hold you, and oh, but could you chatter.’

Harry listened while Patrick talked emotionally about the loss of his own father. ‘Later, when you asked after your granddad, I simply told you he’d gone away to Heaven, where all the good angels go. And you were happy enough with that. Then, sometime after that day – you may or may not remember – I helped you to write a little note telling your granddad not to worry because some day we’d go to Heaven and give him a cuddle, and we would all be together again.’

Having delved into the treasured memories, he discreetly wiped away a tear. ‘So there you are, son. You and your mother got me through that terrible time, just as Kathleen is doing her best to help young Rosie deal with the loss of her daddy.’

Harry could not forget her lonely glance as she went away with his stepmother.

‘Dad?’

‘Yes, Harry?’

‘Do you honestly think Rosie will be able to deal with it?’

‘I think so, given time, and with the family behind her. After all, son, what alternative does she have anyway? But Rosie is made of strong stuff – just like her daddy. She’ll come through it, don’t fret, although it may take her many months, if not years, to actually come to terms with it.’

The loss of his own father, and then his first wife, had knocked him sideways and he still felt the pain of bereavement, mostly at night before he closed his eyes to sleep.

‘I feel for that girl,’ Patrick murmured. ‘I know only too well what she’ll be going through right now. And, like I say, she’s only young!’

‘So, what can we do, Dad?’ Harry was out of his depth. ‘Like you say, she’s not grown up or experienced enough to deal with this kind of grief. How can we help her to get through it?’

Patrick smiled. ‘Well, we can be there for her. We can watch over her, and if she needs to talk, we can listen – it always helps to talk – that’s what will help her. Right now I expect that’s exactly what Kathleen is doing: allowing her to talk and helping to guide her through the pain. I’m afraid, in these circumstances, that’s all anyone can do.’

He took a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush of words. ‘At some time or another, son, we all get cruel knocks from Lady Fate. But life marches on and somehow we manage to deal with its trials and keep going forward. It’s a wicked world, son,’ he tutted angrily.

Harry simply nodded.

‘Dad?’ he asked anxiously then.

‘Yes, son?’

‘I really need to know if Rosie and Mother are all right.’

‘So do I, son, so do I.’

‘Would it hurt if I went and took a little peek at them now? I promise I’ll be careful not to be seen.’

Patrick took a moment to mull over the suggestion. ‘No, I think, on reflection, it’s not the right thing to do. We shall just have to be patient. Your mother will know we’re anxious. She’ll be calling us any minute. So let’s wait here a while longer. They know where we are.’