Even the pub where she had seen Barney and the street-woman on that dreadful day – that was still there. Everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same, because now
they were all gone – her darling boy Jamie, Barney, Vicky and the others.
It was gone four by the time they booked into the hotel. ‘Do you want to rest before we do anything else?’ Adam was concerned for her. ‘We could give it an hour or so, before we go to Bridget’s. I could order tea and sandwiches, and you could have half an hour or so in your room resting.’
‘Are you tired, Adam?’
‘Not really,
no. We had an hour’s stop. That was enough to refresh me.’
‘Good!’ Lucy was adamant. ‘There’ll be time enough for us to rest later. I really do need to see Bridget, and Amy, and …’ She paused. ‘Leave the porter to take up our bags, Adam. I’d like to go to Bridget’s straight away.’
The porter was instructed and they climbed back into the car. ‘Do you know where you’re going?’ Lucy asked. ‘If
I remember rightly, Duke Street is situated in the posh area along by the marketplace then second right, turning past the cinema.’
Adam laughed. ‘Unless they’ve moved the streets, I know every twist and turn,’ he assured her. ‘We’ll be there in a few minutes.’
Adam was as good as his word. In no time at all, they were turning into Duke Street; tree-lined and flanked with expensive houses. ‘I’d
forgotten how posh this area was,’ he said.
As he drove slowly by, Adam carefully read the names and numbers of each house. Every one was different – some with high gates, others with no gates at all, but each one oozing money and affluence. ‘Bridget wasn’t exaggerating when she wrote and told you she was comfortably off,’ he said.
Lucy smiled at his remark. ‘I always knew Bridget would move
up in the world,’ she said proudly. ‘This is all a far cry from the old place.’
Having been back and forth to the window this past hour and more, Bridget saw the car draw up and Adam get out of the driver’s seat. At first she didn’t recognise him, but then as he opened the rear door for Lucy, he looked towards the house and Bridget was sure. ‘It’s them!’ Raising her voice she called Amy, who
had been keeping vigil at the window but had now gone to sit by the fireside. ‘AMY! It’s them!’
Excited, Bridget hurried to the front door and flung it open, and there after all these years was her dear friend Lucy, still strong, still defiant against all odds. Even though she leaned on her walking-stick, there was a grim determination in her step as she began her way up the path.
Her hair that
once hung thick and loose over her shoulders, was now gathered into a clip, and she appeared slimmer, her shoulders upright and straight. Over the years, Lucy had carried a great burden on those slim shoulders, but she had borne her troubles well, and never once had she leaned on others who would have helped if only she had asked.
Now, as she paused in her steps to look up, her eyes were warm
and clear, shining with goodness.
‘Hello, my darling Bridget.’ The voice was Lucy’s. The woman was the girl again, and the girl was the same, with this precious moment frozen in time. They were young again, and the years were as nothing.
Bridget had vowed not to cry or be emotional, but as she ran to meet her old friend, the tears flowed, and when she called Lucy’s name her voice broke and faltered.
‘Oh, Lucy …’ Unable to speak any more, she snatched Lucy to her, and they held each other in a close embrace; it was the most magical moment. One brief moment, born out of tragedy and joy, and a friendship which from a distance had spanned a lifetime.
Adam stood by, a lump in his throat and his heart soaring. These two should never have been parted, he thought, but Lucy had done what she felt
she must do, and now thank God, she was back.
With her arm secure round Lucy, Bridget opened her embrace to include him. ‘Oh Adam, you don’t know how wonderful it is to see you both.’
He went to them and they stood a moment, holding each other as though they would never let go, and the pain in Lucy’s heart was eased. This is right, she thought. This is how it should be.
When Amy came running
down the steps, Lucy took her into her arms. ‘Amy!’ She kissed her face and smiled. ‘You look taller, and smarter.’ Amy had made a special effort to look good for Lucy. She had on a pretty cream-coloured jacket and brown skirt, her hair was especially bobbed and she had on a touch of lipstick.
‘You look every inch the businesswoman.’ Lucy had been told how Amy ran Bridget’s business almost single-handed.
‘But to me, you’ll always be shy little Amy.’
Amy laughed. ‘Not so shy now,’ she said. ‘And not so little, either. I’ve put on a few pounds since you last saw me.’
‘Come inside.’ Bridget led them onwards, Amy and Adam talking softly behind, with herself and Lucy in front. ‘We’re like two old soldiers,’ Bridget joked tearfully. ‘Back from the wars, licking our wounds and ready for the next battle.’
Lucy smiled at that. All my battles are done, she mused. But then she thought of Edward Trent, and her heart fell.
Inside the house, while Amy went to the kitchen, Bridget took Adam and Lucy on a tour; first stop was her large office overlooking the garden. ‘This is the room where I enjoy a drop o’ the good stuff, put me feet up and think o’ the old days,’ she confided. ‘Back there I had a humble
little place with a backyard and men who visited discreetly for pleasure, and now I have a house with beautiful gardens and a posh office, and I’m still in the same business of providing lovely girls for lonely men, only this time it’s more business than pleasure.’ She shrugged philosophically then confided, ‘And would you believe, I’m making ten times the money.’
‘I can see that.’ Lucy was taken
from room to room, in and out of five large bedrooms, all furnished in the latest style; two enormous bathrooms shaped in marble and glass, and then down the wide staircase into a drawing room with French doors leading out to a magnificent garden.
‘You have a beautiful house, Bridget.’ Lucy fell thankfully into the wide armchair; Adam sat close and when Amy brought in the tray of sandwiches and
tea, the four of them reminisced about the past. ‘Will you ever come back here to live?’ Amy asked hopefully, and Lucy told her she would not; that though she had fond memories, the bad ones were still too real.
‘Besides,’ she said, ‘I’m too old in the tooth to be moving house and starting over.’
Adam told them he felt the same. ‘Liverpool will always be where my roots are,’ he confessed, ‘but
my home is in the south …’ no one missed the adoring glance he shot in Lucy’s direction, ‘… with Lucy and her daughter.’
‘And how is your daughter, Mary?’ Bridget enquired of Lucy. ‘Sure, I thought you were bringing her with you, and this young man of hers – Ben, isn’t it?’
‘They’ll be along shortly,’ Lucy promised. ‘Mary called on us this morning before we set off and said how Ben’s sheep had
all started lambing. The pair of them were up all night, and the lambs were still coming when we left.’
‘And do they know where to find us?’
Adam intervened. ‘I copied out the directions you sent to Lucy,’ he said. ‘I’m sure they’ll find you, no trouble.’
‘Good!’ Like Amy, Bridget was longing to see Lucy’s daughter. ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her,’ she told Lucy. ‘When you took her from here,
she was just a tiddler, so she was.’
There was something else Bridget wanted to know, but she wasn’t quite sure how to broach it.
Anticipating the question, Lucy enlightened her. ‘We didn’t go to the churchyard,’ she said quietly. ‘If that’s what you’re wondering?’
Bridget nodded. ‘You read my mind, pet. I was just after asking if you might have called there first.’
When emotion threatened
to creep up on her, Lucy merely shook her head. The memories were vivid as always: after little Jamie’s second birthday party on that joyous November night, Trent had appeared at her cottage, wanting her back, beseeching her to leave Liverpool with him. Then, when he realised that her love had turned to hate, he had snatched her child and disappeared into the night.
Mortally afraid for little
Jamie, Lucy had pursued him, but he was like a madman fleeing through the pitch-dark fields. Stumbling and calling, she had gone after him, but he was always a distance away. And then he was crossing the river, carrying the child over the slippery boulders that straddled the water above the weir, now in full flood. Screaming hysterically, Lucy had followed him. And it was while grappling with him
that Edward Trent began to lose his footing in the raging torrent.
It all happened so quickly. She pleaded with him to give her the child, but he was so crazed and evil there was no reasoning with him. Then Barney came out of the darkness and shouted for her to go back, to leave it to him, but instead, fearful for little Jamie, she followed her instincts and reached out for her baby. Then suddenly
it all went wrong. In one frantic, desperate moment, she and Trent lost their footing, and their son was gone. And as the water carried him away, she prayed, like she had never prayed in her life before or since.
Caring nothing for his own life, Barney had gone after the child but it was all too late, and since that terrible moment when he had carried Jamie’s lifeless body to her, she had blamed
herself. If only she had listened to Barney when he told her to get back. If only she had not pursued Edward Trent, he might have returned her child safely. If only he had not made for the river … if only.
If only.
Dear God, would the heartache never end? And now here she was, where it all happened, and for her own peace of mind, she must visit little Jamie’s last resting-place.
The prospect
was unbearable to Lucy, and yet she desperately needed to stand where he lay, to speak with him and in her heart and mind to hold his hand and reassure him that she had not forgotten, that she still loved and remembered him and would do so until the day she followed.
So often she had mentally prepared herself for this day, when she would be with him, yet each time she had resisted. Because she
knew how hard it would be, how devastated she would feel. But it was ever in her mind and heart. These past twenty years and more she had thought of little else.
‘So, will ye go?’ Soft and encouraging, Bridget’s voice entered her consciousness.
Lucy nodded. ‘You know I will.’ Of that there was no question.
‘Not today though, eh, Lucy?’ Adam could see how tired she was. He above all others knew
what an emotionally draining experience it would be when Lucy finally returned to her baby’s resting-place. ‘I think we should go back to the hotel and take it easy for the rest of the evening.’
As always, his only thought was for Lucy. ‘I’ll take you to the churchyard first thing in the morning, when you’ve had a good night’s sleep. What do you say, Lucy? It’s been a long journey. You need to
take it easy now.’
Lucy took a while to answer. To the others, she appeared calm and controlled, while inside, her heart and mind were in turmoil. How could she go there? How could she not? Yet she must. She must! Oh, but where in the name of God would she find the strength?
Suddenly her heart was open and her mind at peace. From Barney, she realised; that’s where she would find the strength.
‘You’re right, Adam.’ She smiled on him and his heart warmed. ‘It might be best to leave it until morning.’
Bridget had a suggestion. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting ye haven’t had a good meal all day, am I right?’
Up to now, Lucy had not felt hungry, but suddenly she was famished. ‘Why don’t we all have dinner at the hotel?’ she suggested, perking up.
‘Well, I never!’ Bridget cried excitedly. ‘You
took the very words out of my mouth. It’ll be my treat, so it will, and no arguments.’
Neither Adam nor Amy needed much persuasion and so it was arranged. ‘You take yerselves off, and me and Amy will be there soonever we’ve painted our faces and put on our glad rags.’
At seven-thirty they gathered in the hotel bar. Having rested awhile, Lucy was now bathed and changed. She had on a black straight-skirted
dress with blue collar and cuffs, and her hair was swept back into a loop and fastened with a daisy-chain pin. ‘You look lovely!’ Even if she was dressed in sacks, Adam would still think the same. In his eyes, Lucy was everything perfect.
All the same, Lucy was flattered. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’ In his dark suit and pale green shirt, he made a handsome figure.
Amy and Bridget arrived
on time; Amy looking young and fresh in a brown two-piece, Bridget painted to the eyeballs with dark rouge, crimson lipstick, and the smartest bright green two-piece. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she laughed. ‘I look like a leprechaun.’ She cast a scathing glance at Amy. ‘Sure, haven’t I already been told that?’ Doing a twirl she fished for compliments, and got them a-plenty.
Spending a few minutes in the
bar for a premeal drink, they were delighted when Mary and Ben came through the door. ‘What a lovely surprise! You’re just in time for dinner.’ Lucy gave them each a hug before proudly presenting them to Amy and Bridget.
‘Gawd love us!’ Bridget wrapped herself round Mary and squeezed her so hard, Lucy warned her she’d have her eyeballs out. ‘Look at her … she’s all grown up, so she is!’ There
was no stopping Bridget once she started. ‘Oh, and isn’t she like her daddy! Oh Lucy, I can’t believe it.’
Becoming emotional, she was almost in tears, until Lucy told her firmly, ‘Behave yourself, and let the young ’uns get ready for dinner.’
An hour later, they all went through to the dining room.
The evening was perfect, the food was done to a treat, and the conversation at different times
both sparkling and nostalgic; with Bridget unable to take her eyes off Mary, and Mary content to see her mother’s eyes shining with pleasure at being with her old friends.
Later, when they had a few minutes alone, she mentioned to Ben that tomorrow would be a difficult day for Lucy. ‘God only knows how she’ll cope when she goes to the churchyard and sees little Jamie’s grave. It’s bound to bring
it all back with a vengeance.’
Ben had few doubts. ‘Your mother will cope like she always does,’ he assured her. ‘She’s the strongest, most determined woman I’ve ever met.’ Looking down at Lucy’s daughter, he observed the fine straight features and honest clear eyes, and his voice softened. ‘And you, my lovely, are a chip off the old block!’