Lonely Girl (30 page)

Rosie could see how neat and tidy Kathleen had left it all, and she choked back the tears. This had been her home, and now it was cold and empty.

Suddenly, Rosie caught sight of one of her father’s flat caps on the pegs in the hall. ‘I don’t know if it will ever feel like home again,’ she whispered.

‘You could just take a look in your room, see if there’s any books you want to bring back,’ Kathleen persuaded her. ‘Do you think you could manage, while I make us all a hot drink? I brought everything with me.’

Rosie’s attention was diverted to Barney at the sound of a whimper, followed by a crash. She went in search of him. ‘What is it, boy?’ she asked, when she found him by the sideboard where the photograph of Kathleen and Molly was lying broken on the floor. It seemed that Barney had somehow knocked it off.

‘It’s alright, Barney,’ Rosie reassured him. She picked up the picture. In some ways it seemed to her a lifetime since that fateful evening when Barney had sent the very same photograph tumbling to the floor, with the glass all cracked. In that moment, the sight of it brought rushing back to her all the anguish of that long, lonely night. All the anxiety about first her mother, and then her father, and the haunting, eerie sight of that weeping man she now knew as Thomas Stevens. But most horrible of all was the memory of Molly Tanner, confronting her as she hid outside the hay barn.

I am not your mother. What I am is your worst nightmare.

As the sound of those vicious words swept into Rosie’s mind she was gripped by a sense of rage. With a cry, she grabbed the photo frame. Then she threw it down on the floor so hard that the glass shattered in every direction. She took up the photo frame again, and tore out the photograph itself, which she ripped in half, parting the smiling sisters. Then she took Molly’s image and ripped it into even smaller fragments, until it was littered on the carpet, like discarded confetti. Before anyone else could react, Rosie ran from the room.

The sound of her footsteps echoed as she fled upstairs.

Patrick put his head nervously round the door of the front room and called softly to Kathleen. ‘Go after her?’

‘No. I’ll leave her for the moment; let her think a while.’ Kathleen picked up the fragments of the photograph. ‘I should have seen that old photo and tidied it away before today.’

A few minutes later, when Kathleen went to Rosie’s room, there was no sign of her. After searching, Kathleen found Rosie in her parents’ room, and she was shocked at what she saw.

Sobbing bitterly, Rosie was tearing Molly’s clothes from the wardrobe and piling them in the middle of the bed.

‘I’m throwing the whole lot out,’ Rosie announced, although it was already perfectly obvious to Kathleen what she was doing.

‘Come on, let’s take all it onto the landing,’ Kathleen suggested, and Rosie agreed.

‘I don’t want anything of hers left in this house,’ she said. The decision was to empty every wardrobe, cupboard and drawer, until there was no longer the taint of Molly Tanner’s person in this homely cottage.

In the bottom drawer, as she threw out some underclothes, Rosie uncovered several diaries and a quick flip through showed them to be in Molly’s handwriting, though there were few entries. She was just about to throw them away when she saw a piece of paper stuck between the pages of one of them, like a bookmark. The name ‘Ma Battersby’ was scribbled on it in pencil. She opened the diary and saw an appointment recorded for the Tuesday of that week, over fifteen years previously: ‘17 Acament Street, 2.30’. Underneath, in red ink pressed deeply into the page and underlined twice as if in triumph, the words: ‘Your son, John Tanner, done with.’

‘What can this mean?’ she asked Kathleen, handing her the diary and bookmark.

Kathleen looked at the words, looked at Rosie, looked again at the diary. ‘Ma Battersby … I’ve heard that name somewhere … ’ she murmured. Then her face turned pale as she sank down onto the bed in shock, her hand over her mouth.

‘Tell me,’ insisted Rosie when the silence had grown unbearable.

‘I don’t know if I can,’ whispered Kathleen. ‘Oh, Rosie, it’s too awful. Oh, dear God, what can she have been thinking of?’ Tears sprang to her eyes and she wiped them away, muttering to herself in her shock and anger. ‘The wickedness of it … and her with a loving husband who would have doted on his bairn … ’ Kathleen was rocking back and forward, crying openly now.

‘A baby?’ Rosie asked softly. ‘She was going to have a baby? But what happened?’

‘Oh, my innocent sweet angel, you shouldn’t have to hear of things like this,’ gulped Kathleen.

‘Like what? Tell me, Auntie. Are you saying … I would have had a brother?’

‘I reckon you would, my darling, but Molly didn’t want it.’

‘So what happened?’ But Rosie was already beginning to guess. ‘She got rid of it, didn’t she? She went to see this Ma Battersby person and she got rid of the baby.’

‘That would seem to be so,’ said Kathleen quietly, dashing the tears from her eyes.

Rosie sat down on the blanket beside her aunt, her mind racing with the implications of this revelation.

‘I can see by what she’s written that she was pleased about it. The message to Daddy … I’m sure he never knew, but it’s like she did it out of spite. Or maybe because she wanted to inherit Daddy’s farm. All the time I lived here, with just Daddy and Barney to love me, I was so lonely and the woman I thought was my mother was so unkind. I would dearly have loved to have a brother or sister to play with, an ally. I didn’t want my school friends to see how my mother treated me so I hardly ever asked them round. And now I learn I could have had a brother of my very own! I needn’t have been alone at all. Oh, Auntie Kathleen, how could she? How could she do that?’

Kathleen took Rosie in her arms as she sobbed pitifully.

Patrick put his head around the door but Kathleen silently shooed him away.

After many minutes, Harry stole a look into the room, his face concerned but a spark of joy in his eyes. Silently, he came over and put an arm about Rosie. Eventually she sat up straight, wiped her swollen eyes and gave Harry a wobbly smile.

‘Now then, Rosie, I think I have the very thing to chase away those tears,’ said Harry quietly. ‘Do you feel up to coming outside and taking a look?’

Rosie nodded, wiped her face again, stood up and let Harry lead her downstairs, out of the door and across the yard to the stables.

‘Hush now. No sudden movements,’ said Harry, beaming at her.

He led her to the loose box at the far end, where her father’s favourite mare resided. Now, long skinny legs folded into the straw, a tiny foal sat at his mother’s feet.

‘What do you think of that? Born this morning, and what a beauty. What do you reckon, Rosie? Do you think we have a champion there?’

Rosie looked at the new-born foal, his mother nuzzling him gently, and she remembered John’s attention to his animals and how he had trained Harry to his standards. She turned to observe the long row of loose boxes, her father’s proud horses looking out to greet her, turned back and saw again the glossy coat and perfect head of the new foal, and Harry beside her, looking at her like he really cared about her – like he loved her. Suddenly she knew exactly where she belonged and it was where her father had wanted her to be – here, on this farm, with these horses … with this dear young man.

As if he had read her mind, Harry gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly, willing her to feel safe and wanted and loved.

‘A new beginning …’ he whispered into her hair. ‘Please, if you felt you could, I’d like you to share it with me.’

‘I will,’ Rosie whispered back.

She smiled up at him and he bent to kiss her gently on the mouth.

When they emerged from the stables they could see a figure on a bicycle approaching along the lane the other side of the paddock. The figure waved and Rosie waved back.

‘Dad told me he’d telephoned Rossalyn and asked her to come over if she could.’ Harry laughed.

‘That was kind of him.’ Rosie smiled. ‘Come on, Harry, let’s go and tell my mother about the new beginning.’

T
WO YEARS AFTER
that memorable morning, Rosie and Harry walked down the aisle as man and wife. Since they had shared so many mixed emotions on the day of John Tanner’s funeral and the appearance of Rossalyn, and then that day of new beginnings, their love for each other had grown ever deeper.

‘How do you feel, Mrs Riley?’ Harry asked as they got out of the cart outside the village hall where they had celebrated her daddy’s life.

‘I feel so very lucky,’ she told Harry. ‘I have you, and I have my real mother, and the family I love are here. I also have my daddy in my heart …’ her voice broke, ‘… but I just wish he was here … so he can see how very happy I am.’

‘Oh, he’s here, all right,’ Harry whispered. ‘Look at that.’ He pointed to the high window where suddenly the sunshine was pouring in. ‘Your daddy will always be here watching over you.’

Rosie looked up and saw Rossalyn smiling on her. And right there beside her mother was the rest of her family, and the sun was shining through the window just as Harry had pointed out.

In that beautiful moment, Rosie felt deeply content. At long last, she felt a true sense of belonging.

Rosie and Harry left the wedding reception with the good wishes of their family and friends ringing in their ears, rice and pastel-coloured confetti clinging to Rosie’s pretty little veil. Barney followed them out at his own pace. His old legs were tired these days, arthritis troubling him, but he could still rise to the occasion – and what an occasion this had been, featuring his two favourite people. It took him two attempts but, with a little help, he managed to get himself into the back of the waiting cart and settled down for the journey home to Tanner’s Farm.

‘That’s a very modern wedding dress, Mrs Riley,’ said Harry, admiringly, handing his bride into the front seat of the flower-bedecked wagon pulled by their beloved carthorse, who tossed his head proudly, setting his highly polished brasses jingling and the ribbons in his mane fluttering.

‘I’m a very modern woman,’ said Rosie, primly, smoothing out her elegant bell-shaped skirt and admiring the shine of her new wedding ring as she did so. ‘I’m a farmer now, don’t forget; a landowner and businesswoman, no less.’ She stuck her chin in the air in mock self-importance, then burst out laughing.

‘You are indeed! And, best of all, you’re mine for ever, my darling,’ Harry said, squeezing her hand before he took the reins.

The promise of that earlier sunshine was fulfilled in this beautiful spring afternoon as Harry drove them along the lanes. The hawthorn was full of may blossom with its distinctive pungent smell, baby rabbits nibbled at the grass verges and there was the hint of warm days ahead in the spring air.

‘We’ve had a good number of twin lambs this year,’ Rosie said before they had travelled far. ‘I’m wondering whether to expand the flock. We’ve got room if we give over that leek field to pasture. What do you think?’

‘I think you look amazing,’ said Harry, feasting his eyes on her.

‘Even those triplets have thrived,’ Rosie went on, smiling, but pretending she hadn’t heard him, ‘though I shall be glad be finish bottle-feeding them.’

‘Well, you might find the practice will come in useful,’ Harry grinned.

Rosie laughed and snuggled up close to him on the seat. ‘Yes, some human babies are definitely something new to think about for Tanner’s Farm,’ she said. ‘We’ll need to do some costings before we expand in that direction. And I hope not triplets.’

‘At least we wouldn’t have to put them out to pasture,’ Harry joked, a twinkle in his eye.

They settled back in their seat in blissful and silent companionship for a few minutes.

‘I’m thinking we could maybe start Tanner’s Beauty on a career as a show-jumper before long,’ Rosie mused. ‘He’s so intelligent and I don’t think I’d ever want to sell him.’

‘No, I wouldn’t either,’ agreed Harry. ‘That gorgeous fellow, born the day you returned to the farm, is a symbol of our new beginning to me.’

‘And to me,’ said Rosie fervently. ‘He’s got strength and spirit, and if we channel it in the right way I reckon he could be a champion.’

‘No point in not aiming high,’ Harry said, ‘and you have such a way with him. He somehow knows that he’s very special to you.’

‘Mmm …’

They lapsed into silence again, each occasionally glancing at the other in loving admiration as they listened to the jangle of the horse’s harness and the clopping of his heavy feet. Soon Harry was turning the cart into the yard in front of the farmhouse.

‘Oh, look. How pretty!’ gasped Rosie, seeing the door decorated with a wreath of delicate spring flowers and bunting draped between the upper windows. ‘Who did that?’

‘Mum and Rossalyn, of course,’ Harry replied. ‘And there are more surprises inside. Come on, let’s get Barney out of the back and I’ll carry you over the threshold.’ He came round and helped her down from the high seat. ‘Come on, Barney. Good boy. Out you get.’

Harry opened the tail gate of the cart, and after surveying the drop to the ground, the old dog decided he could make it and jumped inelegantly down. Then Harry produced the door key and let him inside to enjoy the comfort of his basket after a long and exciting day.