Lonely Girl (6 page)

‘You don’t need to understand.’

‘Oh, but I do! If you don’t love him, why did you marry him when you could have had me?’

‘Are you absolutely sure you need to know?’

‘Just tell me.’

‘Aw, bugger it!’ She pushed him away. ‘You’re getting me all wound up. I need a fag.’

Leaning against the wall, she rummaged in her handbag and drew out a packet of Woodbines and a box of matches.

Having lit the cigarette, she took a long drag on it and blew the smoke out slowly. Then she turned back to Tom.

‘It’s true I really did love you, Tom, but you had nothing to give me … at least not by way of material things, like a home, and nice clothes, and all the trimmings. Then, when John’s father died and left him the farm, I saw where my future lay, and I went for it. I thought nothing of him – I still loved you – but he came with a farm that was worth a tidy penny, while you had nothing worthwhile to offer me. Even now, I don’t need to work if I don’t want to because he provides everything. Working gets me away from the pair of them. I do what I like with my wages, and that suits me fine.’

‘I see.’ He was shaken at her cold manner. ‘You really are a bad lot, aren’t you, Molly?’

‘I suppose … It all worked out so well, except I could never love him. To this day he doesn’t even realise how much I hate him … and the girl. When the girl appeared, I was sorely tempted to leave the pair of them, but common sense got the better of me.’

‘And you’ve stayed all these years. But you could have come to me, Molly. I had my own little place back then. I would never have turned you away.’

‘I stayed because it was part of my plan,’ she admitted. ‘I was a good wife to him.’ She paused, remembering the difficult times. ‘The girl ruined everything. She was never part of the big plan, but he adored her and so I learned to pretend.’

‘But why could you not genuinely love that innocent child?’

Molly gave him a long inscrutable look. ‘I never wanted children. I was determined to be careful, but in spite of that, I still got pregnant. John never knew about his son, and I never told him. Instead, when I first found out I was carrying I went to old Ma Battersby on Acament Street. She’s known for helping pregnant women who want her kind of help, and my secret was safe with her. So, as soon as I realised he’d got me up the duff, she got rid of it for me. She told me she’d made an educated guess as to its gender. I feel no guilt at having denied him a son.’

She gave a drunken, pathetic little giggle. ‘If he’d known how I got rid of his son, it would have broken his heart. Then along came another baby. Ma Battersby couldn’t do anything to help me with that one, and the girl gave me a bad time. She made me so wretched that on certain days I couldn’t even go to work. She just made me feel terrible. Suddenly, there I was, literally left holding the baby. It was almost as though John and his brat had planned it all, and I hated them both. I still do.’

Molly fell silent, while Tom Stevens reflected on what she had told him. How could he ever have fallen for this cold-hearted woman?

‘Shocked, are you?’ Molly’s shrill voice invaded his thoughts. ‘Still want me, do you?’

‘I must be a sad man,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘How in God’s name can I love a hard-hearted woman like you? It’s as if, all those years ago, you crept into my head and my heart, and now I’m only half a man without you. So what does that say about me, eh?’ He felt ashamed and guilty, and yet he still needed her so badly he could hardly breathe.

‘It sounds to me as if you’re utterly miserable on the farm. You don’t love your husband and you don’t want the girl, so why not leave it all behind? We’re both working – we could rent a place somewhere. Nothing too grand, but at least it’ll be ours.’ When she gave no answer, he asked again, ‘What d’you say, Molly?’

‘Don’t talk stupid!’ Cursing herself for having confided in him, Molly reacted viciously. ‘Do you really think I’ve gone through years of hell, only to move in with you, to live in a grotty bedsit down some godforsaken backstreet? Hell will freeze over before I do that. My plan is to brave it out. Then, when he pops his clogs – hopefully sooner rather than later – I intend getting everything. John Tanner might be a first-class farmer, but he’s not too bright when it comes to paperwork, except when it’s to do with agricultural stuff.’

She smiled knowingly, lowering her voice. ‘Everything else – the more personal, official stuff – falls to me to deal with. So I am fully aware of what he’s worth and, consequently, what I am also worth, if you know what I mean?’

‘No, I don’t know what you mean, Molly. You might need to spell it out for me. What exactly are you getting at?’

In a soft, intimate voice she explained, ‘Well, let’s just say you should not be at all surprised if amongst John Tanner’s paperwork is a copy of his last will and testament. So I now know that, thanks to his father and grandfather before him having always had property and worked hard to keep it safe, John Tanner is not only worth a bob or two, but so am I. If I bide my time, I should end up a very wealthy woman. Think about it. There’s the farmhouse itself. The many acres of prime land, and the woods beyond. The solid furniture that belonged to his parents and grandparents before them, and their every single possession – bits of family jewellery, pictures – all now worth a pretty penny. On top of that, there’s all the machinery, which has cost a fortune over the years.’

She smiled. ‘So you see, Tom, that’s why I chose him over you. Not because I loved him, but because I saw a comfortable future, and if that makes me a bitch, then so be it. You asked for the truth, and now you’ve got it.’

‘You’re a bad lot, Molly. In truth, I’m only just beginning to see how devious you can be. But even now, I still want you in my life. In fact, I’d even be willing to take on the girl.’

‘Well, I’m not! When the time comes, I have other plans for her.’

‘What do you mean? What kind of plans?’

‘I mean that when I’m rid of John Tanner, I have no intention whatsoever of raising his daughter.’

‘I don’t understand. She’s your own flesh and blood. You have no choice but to raise her.’

‘I don’t have to do any such thing. She’s ruined my life since the day I first clapped eyes on her. I have never felt an ounce of affection for her, and I never will.’

Then, to Tom’s astonishment, she murmured softly, ‘The one thing I have always regretted is not smothering her when she was too small to know anything about it.’

Silence fell heavily before Tom, becoming more sober by the minute, was urged to voice his thoughts. ‘Shame on you, Molly. That was a shockingly wicked thing to say.’

She gave no answer, but slid her arm through his and walked him forward. ‘Forget about the girl,’ she advised brightly. ‘I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of when the time comes. But for now, my love, we need to get out of the cold.’

For her, the subject was ended, but her dark confession remained strong in her companion’s mind. He realised that if he and Molly were to have a future together, he must work through his troubling thoughts and reconcile them with his conscience.

‘So if and when you do get your hands on Tanner’s Farm and everything, what plans do you have for the child?’

‘Oh, that’s easy!’ Molly replied. ‘I’ve got it all worked out. I have no motherly feelings for the girl, but my sister, Kathleen, positively dotes on her, so it should be easy enough to dump her on Kathleen, especially as she’s so unbelievably trusting. Even when it comes to choosing men, she has no idea. She chose to marry a widower who is also a good eight or nine years older than her. Patrick’s not the best-looking fella in the world either, but for reasons I will never understand she worships the ground he walks on. Mind you, to be fair, I must admit he looks after her very well. While he’s not a wealthy man, he makes good money from his two successful tack shops, selling horsey stuff to the local hunt and the many riding schools hereabouts.’

Tom was impressed. ‘Well, successful business or not, your sister obviously loves him. Good luck to them, that’s what I say. He sounds like a decent sort.’

For a fleeting moment, Molly felt the teeniest twinge of jealousy. ‘He’s OK, I suppose. He seems to make Kathleen happy, but he’s not my cup of tea. Also, he came with baggage in the shape of Harry, the teenage son who now works on the farm with John. For my money, Patrick fell on his feet when he met Kathleen.’ She gave a disapproving grunt. ‘She’s so happy it makes me cringe! Like I said, my sister is far too easy to please. So turning the girl over to her should not be a problem.’ She smiled. ‘My sister is a fool to herself, but her soft nature might well work in my favour.’

Silently congratulating herself, she then remarked grandly, ‘Trust me, Tom. It will all work out for the best, you see if it doesn’t.’ Threading her arm through his, she kissed him soundly on the cheek. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get in the warm, eh?’

‘Lead on, my dear,’ he said, thinking the child would have a good life with her doting aunt. He snuggled up to Molly. ‘I forget where we’re going. The booze must have addled my brain.’

‘Don’t be daft! You didn’t forget,’ she laughed. ‘I just never actually told you, so you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? Relax. You’ll know when we get there, and I promise we’ll be safe enough … even from John Tanner. All right?’

Tom nodded. ‘Yeah, all right … if you say so.’

‘I do. So stop your moaning, and trust me.’

While Molly and her man hurried to their destination, John Tanner hurried through the backstreets towards the Magpie.

Keenly aware of how late it was, he remained vigilant, hoping to catch sound or sight of his wayward wife.

What the devil was she playing at staying out so late? When he heard the market hall clock chiming midnight his concern heightened. Where are you, Molly? he asked himself, looking about him. Surely the pub must be closed by now, so she couldn’t still be there. Nevertheless, he decided to check.

Within minutes he was at the door of the Magpie. As he had guessed, the pub was closed and in darkness except for the small, flickering outside light over the door. With the flat of his hand he pushed hard on the door but it was obviously locked from within.

He tried the handle several times, with no luck. With no other ideas, and increasingly worried, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden panelling; all to no avail.

Lifting the cover of the letter box, he peered through. The inner door to the saloon was closed and there was no evidence of anyone inside: no laughter or chatter, and no rattling of glasses.

Stepping back, he looked up at the bedroom windows. Disappointingly, the curtains were drawn.

Hesitating, he wondered if he should shout up but he knew the publican wouldn’t thank him for waking him and his wife if they were asleep. But he was frantic to know Molly’s whereabouts, so he decided to call anyway. He was aware that the landlord might occasionally organise lock-ins, when he would invite a chosen party of friends to have a quiet drink outside of normal hours.

First he rattled the letter box again, but there was still no response from inside. Desperate, he leaned forward to call through the aperture. ‘Hello,’ he yelled, ‘it’s John Tanner. I’m sorry, but I need to know if my wife is in there with you.’

When there was still no answer, he raised his voice and shouted up for a second time: ‘It’s John Tanner, Molly’s husband. She hasn’t come home yet, and I’m worried about her. Is she in there? Hello?’

He listened for a moment but the silence thickened, so this time he pressed his face even closer to the letter box, yelling as loud as he dared: ‘I’m sorry to disturb you when it’s so late, but I’m really worried. Molly hasn’t come home, and I don’t know where she is. I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

Upstairs, Peggy Benson and her husband, Roger, woke with a start.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Leaning up on one elbow, Roger looked a sorry sight with his wild, ginger hair standing on end, and his eyes like two sunken holes in his features.

‘Dammit! Can’t a person get a decent night’s sleep after a long working day?’ Peggy grumbled. When her husband fell back and seemed to be nodding off again, she shook him violently. ‘Roger, wake up!’

He groaned as though in agony. ‘Aw, dammit! Leave me alone. It’s probably some drunk lost his way. He’ll soon get fed up if we ignore him.’

‘How the hell can we ignore him? We’d best get rid of him, or he’ll wake the entire street.’

Roger lazily opened one eye. ‘I said leave him. He’ll soon get the message. Go back to sleep, woman.’

‘I can’t!’ She shook Roger again. ‘Listen! He’s causing a commotion out there.’ She gave a long yawn. ‘Please, Roger. It’s all right for you; you’ve been out for most of the day, while I’ve been stuck behind the bar. I’m bone tired. Please, Roger! Just go down and chase the bugger off, whoever he is!’ Frustrated when he didn’t move, she gave him a hard dig with her elbow. ‘Go on then!’

‘Why can’t
you
“chase the bugger off”?’

‘’Cause I’m a woman, and you’re a man … or you should be.’

‘Like I say, ignore him. He’ll get fed up when he realises we’re closed.’