Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection

‘Of course I’ll help you. What on earth are you doing out here? Come home with me. We’ll soon get you warmed up and then I’ll run you back to the farm. Heavens above, man, you’re like ice!’ Taking off his jacket he wrapped it round Barney’s shoulders.

But Barney would not budge. ‘You don’t understand,’ he mumbled. ‘None of them understand.’ Suddenly he was sobbing. ‘I had to do it, y’see? I had to turn them against me, it was the only way. The booze, the women, the fighting – it was all an act. I had to do it …’

When the sobbing took hold and he could no longer speak, Leonard took him gently away.

‘Come home with me,’ he said compassionately. ‘Whatever it is, we’ll make it right. I promise.’

Half-supporting, half-carrying him, Leonard took Barney through the night, and when they reached The Manse he settled him on the sofa in front of a roaring fire. ‘I’ll get a blanket … keep you warm. Then I’ll let your wife and family know that you’re safe,’ he told him.

Panicking, Barney stumbled from the sofa and taking hold of Leonard by the collar, he begged him not to tell them. ‘I can never go with you, but the family can. They mustn’t know about me. Nobody knows, except for Adam and the doctor, and they are duty bound not to tell.’

When he began fighting for breath and pleading with Leonard not to tell, the older man calmed him. ‘Very well, Barney, your secret is safe with me, but let me get the blanket, and a hot drink, then we’ll sit and talk, you and me, with no one else to bother us. All right?’ He was shocked and saddened by Barney’s situation. Grey-faced and with his eyes all but sunk into his head, Barney looked more ill than Leonard could ever have imagined.

Barney nodded feverishly. ‘All right, yes, but I need to ask you something …’

‘You can ask anything you like,’ Leonard promised. ‘But not until I have you settled and warm.’ Lifting Barney’s legs he laid him back onto the cushions before going off to the kitchen. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

He returned within minutes, carrying a tray with hot milk with whisky and biscuits, and under his arm a blanket. ‘Here we are!’ Setting the tray on the side table, he wrapped Barney in the blanket. ‘Good! You’ve stopped shivering.’ He was relieved to see that the man’s colour was already returning.

Handing the mug to Barney, he warned him, ‘Be careful, now … it’s very hot.’ But it was exactly what Barney needed. ‘Now then.’ Leonard sat in the armchair facing him. ‘Are you ready to talk?’

Barney gave him a wary look. ‘Can I trust you?’

Leonard assured him, ‘I’m not one to betray a trust.’

Setting his mug of milk on the hearth, Barney threw back the blanket and edging his legs round so as to be sitting opposite Leonard, he sat quiet for a while, with the only sound the ticking of the clock. When he finally spoke it was to say in a low, secretive voice, ‘I want you to take my wife and family to America.’

Leonard was curious. ‘But isn’t that what we have already decided? You and the boys are to help me run the farm, and Vicky is to run the house. I thought it was all agreed.’ He paused. ‘You’ve changed your mind – that’s it, isn’t it, Barney?’ There was disgust in his voice. ‘That’s why you’ve been behaving in such a shocking way – because you’ve changed your mind and didn’t have the guts to tell me. So you thought if you behaved badly enough, I wouldn’t want you with me anyway?’

‘I wish to God that was the way of things,’ Barney said sadly. ‘You asked me a moment ago if I was ill. Well, yes, I am ill … very ill. In fact, there isn’t much time. The thing is, I’m concerned about Vicky, and my children. If they knew how desperately ill I am, they would never leave me, and I’m so afraid for them. I want you to take them with you, Mr Maitland. Make a good life for them, and I’ll be forever in your debt.’

Leonard was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I don’t understand. Are you asking me to take them, without you?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m asking.’

‘For God’s sake, man, what’s going on in your head? Have you lost your mind altogether? For one thing, if you’re so ill, you need your family more than ever. Vicky would never go without you. And there’s another thing: I need you, Barney. No other man could help me put the farm back on its feet like you can.’

There was a long moment when Barney laid back on the sofa, eyes closed and wishing he was not having this conversation. However, he had no choice, not if his family were to have the chance of a new life in America.

Leaning forward he told Leonard, ‘You’re not listening to me. I want you to understand why I’ve been behaving the way I have. More than that, I need you to help me, or it will all have been for nothing.’

Realising how serious Barney was, Leonard remained silent, attentive to his Farm Manager’s every word.

Barney told him everything: that his heart was fading and that he could never recover. He had agonised over and again about how he might still give his family the chance of starting a new life without him, aware that if they were to suspect that he was seriously ill, they would never abandon him. He told Leonard of their great excitement and of his own despair because, ‘Through no fault of my own, that wonderful opportunity you gave us has been snatched from me. But it must not be snatched from my wife and children. That’s why I’ve behaved the way I have – to turn them against me – to make them hate me as they have never hated anyone.’

He paused again, unable for a moment to go on, and when he did, the tears spilled over. ‘I know you love my Vicky,’ he said. When Leonard made to protest, Barney put up a staying hand. ‘Please don’t deny it. I’ve known for some long time that you love her. I’ve seen the way you watch her when she’s in the field. I saw how you danced with her at our party, with love in your eyes and the tender touch of a man with the woman he loves. She has the children, but she will need you more than you know. You’re a good man, Mr Maitland. Take her, and look after her, I beg you. I will ask Adam to write to you and let you know when it’s all over, so you can marry my lovely Vicky in the fullness of time.’

He had one more thing to say, because now his strength was depleted. ‘I’m not strong any more, but my sons are. I can’t help you bring the farm back to life, but they can. I’ve taught them everything I know. Give them their dream, I beg you! Take them away, and never in your life tell them about our conversation this night.’

Exhausted, he lay back on the cushions. ‘You have to promise me this, or the bad things I’ve done will all have been for nothing.’

Leonard had been devastated by Barney’s terrible news, and now this request had him in turmoil. ‘You’re asking too much of me, Barney.’ With his head bowed low, he searched for the right words. ‘How can I take a man’s family across the Atlantic and leave him behind to …’ He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. ‘How can I possibly do that?’

‘You can do it, Mr Maitland, because if you don’t, they’ll remain here, with no home and no one to guide them. God knows, I’ll be gone soon enough, and it’s more than I can bear. I’m asking you to help me. Who else can I turn to? You offered them a new life, a journey the like of which they will never know again. It’s up to you.’ His voice weak, he pleaded for the last time: ‘Surely you won’t refuse me? Think of Vicky. Think of her, alone and unprotected. No, Mr Maitland, you can’t refuse me this.’

For a time, Leonard paced the floor, back and forth, up and down, occasionally stopping to shake his head and turn the matter over and over in his mind.

Presently, he came to sit in the armchair. ‘What will happen to you, Barney?’ he asked worriedly. ‘Who will take care of you?’

The sick man did not hesitate. ‘Lucy will be there when I need her, I’m sure.’

Leonard gave a long, deep sigh. ‘I don’t know, Barney, I just don’t know. You’re ill, you need your family about you. You need Vicky … What would she say if she ever found out that I had taken her away when you needed her most?’

Barney looked at him then, a world of understanding in his eyes. ‘Vicky must never know. None of them must know.’

Leonard was humbled. ‘Do you really trust me that much?’

‘I do, yes. I trust you never to tell, for as long as you live. I trust you to promise me and keep your promise. Will you do that for me, Mr Maitland? Will you promise to take them and look after them, and never betray me?’

Amazed at Barney’s calm manner, Leonard observed him as never before; that ordinary man, with an extraordinary courage, and he was deeply humbled. ‘I’m sorry, Barney,’ he said harshly. ‘I’m sorry for what’s happened to you, and I’m sorry that your family will be losing the bravest man it’s ever been my privilege to meet.’

‘But will you promise all those things? Will you?’

Leonard got out of his chair and began pacing the floor again, his hand cupping his chin as he thought deeply about this unique situation. It was true that he loved Vicky, and it was true that he desperately needed men he could trust, like the Davidson youths, to help him restore his grandfather’s farm to its former glory. Barney was the Farm Manager here, but his two fine sons were made in the same mould.

The promise weighed on his mind. How could he promise never to tell Vicky about Barney, to say that she ought to be worshipping the ground he walked on instead of rejecting him? Everything Barney had done – the bad things and the angry things, making them despise him while he was suffering so terribly – all of it had been done deliberately, so as to save his family a world of further pain and suffering.

Could he play his part in it, as Barney pleaded with him to do? And if he did, could he live his life, seeing Vicky and her sons every day; working alongside and getting to know them and keeping secret the amazing truth about their father? Was he that strong?

It seemed a wicked, deceitful thing, and yet it was what Barney wanted, what he craved: to see his family settled and safe – the only thing that could give him peace of mind and heart.

While Barney patiently waited, Leonard continued to pace, and when at last he came to rest, his mind was made up. ‘All right, Barney, if it’s in my power to grant you the peace of mind you seek, I promise to do as you ask.’

Visibly overwhelmed, Barney leaned back and closed his eyes. After a moment, his eyes shining with tears, he looked up at this man, and in a strong, quiet voice he told him, ‘You can’t know what you’ve done for me, my friend. You have my deepest gratitude. Whatever happens from now on, I know I can rest easy.’

On the pretext that his milk had gone cold, Barney asked Leonard if he wouldn’t mind bringing him another glass. The man readily obliged, and while he was gone but a few minutes, he returned to find the front door open and Barney loping slowly along the lane, making his way through the darkness like a wounded animal.

At first, Leonard started out after him. But then he thought better of it. ‘No doubt you have things to think about,’ he whispered, closing the door. ‘We all have much to think about now.’

Chapter 20 (#ulink_143d66a4-89b5-5149-be47-b7989dc78938)

IT WAS THE day before the Davidson family were due to sail. The mood in the farmhouse was one of excitement, though it was tempered with a sombre atmosphere. ‘I never thought I’d see the day when your father turned his back on all of us.’ Vicky had suffered sleepless nights since Barney’s departure from their lives.

Ronnie was unrepentant. ‘I don’t have a father any more,’ he declared angrily and, though his heart was sore at the thought, Thomas also agreed. Too much had happened. There had been too many tears and too much soul-searching, and now it was time to call an end to it.

‘He’s chosen his way, and now we have to choose ours.’ Going to his mother, Tom put his arms round her shoulders and held her close. ‘We’ll look after you, Mother, me and Ronnie and our Susie.’

Having gathered the last of her things to be laid out for packing, Susie looked up at her brother’s words. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘We won’t let you down, not like he’s done!’ Shutting her father out of her life was the hardest thing Susie had ever had to do, but now it was done, and though there were regrets, there could be no turning back.