Lonely Girl (9 page)

‘I’m almost sure that was Daddy I saw just now,’ Rosie confided in the patient dog, ‘but what if it wasn’t him? What if it was the bad men who took all the saddles during the summer?’ Her father had had to spend his much-needed savings on some second-hand replacements.

Her voice broke into a sob. ‘I don’t want to go out there, Barney, because Daddy said not to, and it’s dark … I don’t like the dark.’ She would never admit that particular fear to her father, but she could tell Barney, being safe in the knowledge that he would not betray her trust. ‘Oh, Barney, where is he? I’m sure something bad must have happened.’

Having kept her tears back for so long, she wrapped her arms around her beloved friend and unashamedly cried on his shoulder.

Soon gathering herself, her courage strengthened by the presence of the large dog, she was up and running to the bedroom door. ‘Come on, Barney! Let’s go and find him!’

As though sensing the enormity of what she was about to do, Barney stubbornly sat on his haunches: he was going nowhere and neither was she. When Rosie ran back to pull him up he sat firm, with a look in his eye that warned her he would not be moved.

‘All right then, I’ll go without you.’

Hoping he would change his mind once she had her coat on, Rosie ran down to the hallway where she collected her long mac from the peg, and quickly slipped it on, but Barney had moved only as far as the top of the stairs, where he sat still with a look of contempt on his weathered old face.

‘I’m going, Barney.’ Rosie was determined. ‘You can stay here if you want, but I have to go … I mean it, Barney. I’m going outside to look for him, whether you come with me or not.’ Reluctant to leave him here, she collected his lead and stood by the door, teasingly dangling it in the air. When it seemed he was as determined to stay as she was to go, Rosie pretended to leave. But the minute she dropped the lead, Barney ran downstairs and sat upright before her, one paw scraping the lead towards him, while he looked up at her with a sorry face.

Rosie was greatly relieved. ‘Oh, thank you, Barney.’ She wrapped her arms about his warm silky back and hugged him to her. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me go all on my own.’

She quickly attached the lead to the leather collar about his fat neck, then gave him another swift hug while she whispered in his ear, ‘Thank you for coming with me. I pretend to be brave, but I would have been frightened all on my own. Just remember, Barney, when we get outside we must be very careful because we don’t really know who’s hiding out there.’

A moment or so later, they were both suitably dressed for the outdoors.

‘Come on, Barney, we need a torch!’ Rosie made a search for the long torch, which she recalled was kept somewhere here.

‘I’m not sure where it is exactly,’ she admitted to her dog, who was sniffing in every corner, ‘but I know Daddy keeps a spare one, and it’s in here somewhere.’

Eventually she found it tucked away in the shoe cupboard by the door. She was pleased to find a short, sturdy walking stick in the umbrella stand, too. It had a fat, knobby handle and was light to carry.

‘Here, Barney, you can look after that.’ She gave the stick to her accomplice for safekeeping.

Wagging his tail as though he had been given charge of something very special, he grasped it firmly between his teeth, making it look like his face was suspended in a weird kind of smile.

‘Don’t lose it, Barney,’ Rosie urged. ‘It might come in handy if we meet the bad men,’ though the idea of that happening made her shiver.

With torch in hand, and ready for anything, the two of them left the house. Rosie locked the front door behind her, trying it twice to make sure it was locked. Satisfied, she then slipped the key into her coat pocket.

Nervous of the dark, and ashamed of defying her father’s instructions, Rosie set out along the path and into the night, her loyal friend Barney ever close by her side, the short, stout walking stick clutched tight in his mouth and his dark, silky ears pricked to every little sound.

‘Remember, Barney, don’t you dare start barking at the slightest thing. If there are bad men we don’t want them to know we’re here. We just need to find Daddy as quickly as we can.’

Nervously, Rosie continued forward, focusing the torchlight directly onto the path before them, which she hoped would be discreet enough not to draw the attention of any intruder who might be in the vicinity.

Close by, John continued to follow both the diminishing sounds and his own sharp instinct. He was being extra cautious, knowing that if he was spotted before he could learn the lie of the land he could be in deep trouble.

Earlier, it was muffled laughter that led him to the hay barn, but now the laughter had ceased. However, he had to check if anyone was still in there. The door was unlocked and the light was on so he feared they might be lying in wait to jump him. He crept forward, being extra careful as he silently tiptoed between the bales. As he reached the middle of the barn he could hear low murmurings. The thieves were clearly towards the far end. He readied himself for the confrontation. He had no way of knowing how many of them might be lurking back there. Obviously there were at least two, but there might be more, and the possibility of locking horns with a brutish gang of thieves made him question his position for a second time.

However many of them he would have to face, it was not in his character to cut and run. If he had a choice, he would rather not have a fight on his hands, but if it was a fight they wanted, then it was a fight they would get.

In truth, all he wanted was to send them packing; to let them know that he and his property were not such an easy target as they might previously have thought.

This time he was just a few steps away from confronting them, he had the element of surprise, and he had a sturdy spade, which he’d picked up by the barn door, in his fist. His anger made him strong, and right now he was ready for them.

Bracing himself, he crept forward until he was so near to their hiding place he hardly dared breathe.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he realised the very real danger to himself. And what of Rosie, alone in the house except for Barney?

John saw now that he might be putting himself into a situation that could end badly, yet he had no choice but to confront the intruders.

When, distracted by his thoughts, he suddenly missed his footing, he stood still listening intently for a moment, to be sure they had not heard him.

Satisfied, he continued to focus on the soft, whispering voices and the occasional rustling of hay. He needed to pinpoint their whereabouts exactly so he could take the advantage of surprise.

It enraged him to think that thieves were actually here in his barn, furtively plotting to rob him of what had been earned through his own hard work over the years.

Apart from his father’s generous gift of the farm, nothing had ever been handed to him on a plate. The daily grind and worries of running a good farm demanded blood, sweat and tears, and he was not about to stand by while a bunch of thieving rogues helped themselves to what was his.

At the same time doubts ran amok in his mind. Was he foolish to think he could round up these thieves all by himself? Maybe he should have called Paddy, his brother-in-law. He was a good man and he would have helped, but John had not asked because the anger in him had taken away his common sense. So now he was alone and vulnerable, and possibly about to get the worst beating of his life.

His fear was palpable but he pressed on regardless, slowly, on tiptoe, with the spade at his side, and his heart beating so fast he feared it might leap out of his chest. He desperately hoped the element of surprise might just give him the edge.

He thought it strange that, in this moment of huge anxiety, he could remember every plank of wood that made up the floor beneath his feet. He recalled his tired limbs as, many moons ago, he had worked day and night to get the barn finished and the crops in before rain came.

So many seemingly irrelevant details tore through his troubled mind. Building this barn had been a mammoth task. Although he had help from neighbouring farmers, there was no let-up for any of them. With the summer ending, and the changeable autumn weather fast closing in, they’d had to get the roof on without delay.

He recalled the excruciating pain in his limbs as he drove the long, thick nails into every plank, post and joist. And how could he forget the crippling weariness when carrying the timbers across his shoulders, day after day, and into the night, until he could hardly stand up? But when the barn was finished the pride he felt was worth every bead of sweat, and every wrenched muscle in his body. He and his good neighbours celebrated the completion of Tanner’s Barn together. The buzz of excitement at the sight of that monstrous barn standing proud was like nothing he had ever experienced …

Just now, his heart was filled with pride in this strong, handsome building; which was now being invaded by those who did not give a tinker’s cuss if they ruined him.

Suddenly his meandering thoughts were brought back sharply to the present by the rustling of hay and whispered voices. Grim-faced and determined, he tightened his fist on the spade.

‘Ssh, Tom.’ Putting up a warning hand, Molly rolled away from her man. ‘Listen.’

Bemused, Tom was about to reply when she pressed the flat of her hand over his mouth.

‘Be quiet!’ she hissed.

Suspecting she might be playing games, he pushed her hand away and smiled. ‘Bad girl!’ He was about to draw her on top of his nakedness when she clambered away to reach for her clothes.

‘Get dressed,’ she whispered. ‘Hurry up.’

When Tom saw the scared look on her face, and the way she panicked when grabbing up her clothes, he realised she was not playing games. He, too, listened and he could hear the soft crunch of footsteps as they trod over the carpet of strewn hay.

Anxiously grabbing his trousers, he managed to wriggle into them without making too much noise, while Molly hastily pulled her dress on over her head.

With both of them at least half decent, they pressed deep into the hay, remaining silent and as still as possible while the footsteps closed in on them. They fervently hoped the intruder would pass by without ever knowing they were even there.

Moments passed in which they heard the shuffle of footsteps heading towards where they lay huddled together and holding their breath. Making no move, they kept their nerve. A moment later they were much relieved when it seemed the footsteps had changed direction and were receding.

Molly and Tom remained very still until they were satisfied that the intruder had truly gone away. Molly was glad of Tom’s strong arms about her, though his voice trembled as he whispered, ‘It’s all right, Molly. I think they’ve gone.’

‘Whew. Thank goodness.’ Hugely relieved, and totally believing they were out of danger, Molly softly scrambled to the edge of one of the surrounding hay bales to peep over, congratulating herself that she and her lover had managed to avoid being discovered. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the shock of finding herself staring into her husband’s face, his horrified gaze shifting from her to the half-naked stranger lying at her feet.

Before John could even open his mouth, Molly went wild, screaming at the top of her voice and cursing him to hell and back, in a curious and desperate attempt to take the moral high ground. ‘You beast! What right have you to follow me? What the hell d’you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like a thief in the night?’

Her blind rage overwhelmed her guilt and shame as she continued to tear into him with a vicious volley of foul language and sanctimonious nonsense.

Not daring to move, Tom lay trembling with fear, desperate to avoid the fray and undecided whether it would be better to run or stay and take his punishment.

The decision was made for him when Molly began kicking and lashing out as John took her by the arms and held her against the hay bales.

‘What the hell is your game, Molly? I came looking for you, because I was worried. Rosie is, too. We thought you might be in trouble, and here you are, lying in the hay … with some man.’ His voice shook with disgust. ‘What’s wrong with you, Molly? I thought you were better than this. So come on, I’m listening. Who the hell is he, and how long has this been going on behind my back, eh? You had better explain yourself … if you can!’