Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection

‘An accident,’ Adam told her sheepishly. ‘There were people pushing and shoving at the ticket-desk. I dodged past them, trying my best to keep out of their way …’ He rolled his eyes. ‘The truth is, this infant ran in front of me and I tripped over. But I managed to keep hold of the cups.’

Lucy was at once sympathetic. ‘Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?’

‘No.’ Having given Lucy one cup, Adam placed his own on the bench and brushed himself down. ‘There was help at hand.’

He pointed to a child now climbing onto a platform bench, and with him was a woman the size of a ten-ton truck, arms like a navvy and a turban wrapped round her hair, tied so tight her eyes seemed to pop out. ‘She picked me up,’ he said with some embarrassment.

Just then the woman turned round and gave him a wonky smile. Adam smiled back, his face bright red as he frantically brushed the dirt and dust from his best trousers.

‘That woman there? She was the one who picked you up?’ Lucy’s face crumpled. ‘Her unruly infant knocked you down, and she picked you up?’ In her mind she had this hilarious image of the elegant Adam going flying across the floor, arms in the air, and that enormous person who looked more like an all-in wrestler than a woman, manhandling him as he fought to keep the cups upright.

It was all too much. The laughter sparkled in her eyes and then Adam was giggling, and now as the woman sat herself on the bench, legs apart and bloomers showing, Lucy quickly had to walk to the waiting room where she erupted in a fit of laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks.

After a time, she managed to compose herself and return to Adam. ‘I would have given anything to see it,’ she told him.

‘You’re a wicked woman,’ he told her, still laughing at himself, and she gave him a kiss for being so entertaining.

Now, as the train-whistle blew, Lucy’s mind was focused once more on Vicky. ‘It’s here,’ she told Adam excitedly. ‘The train’s here!’

Standing their cups beside a bench, the two of them moved closer to the edge of the night-dark platform, where the train was already beginning to pull in.

As it chugged to a halt, the steam rose and all the doors opened. People spilled out and it was hard to distinguish them through the billowing clouds. ‘Where is she?’ Lucy strained her eyes, searching for Vicky. ‘Oh Adam, what if she changed her mind at the last minute?’

Philosophical as ever, Adam calmed her fears. ‘If she has, then there is nothing we can do about it.’

People thronged past and soon there was no one left. The station seemed suddenly eerie.

‘Look there!’ Adam pointed to the figure climbing out of the train. ‘Is that her, do you think?’

They watched as the passenger stepped down to the platform. As the slim figure of a woman came out of the night, it was like watching a ghost materialising from the past.

‘It must be her.’ Lucy’s heart was in her mouth. ‘It has to be Vicky Davidson.’

Chapter 14 (#ulink_3d074523-6eb7-5606-9283-5fab49ef4971)

FEELING ANXIOUS NOW that her journey from Boston to Salford was over, Vicky had lingered on the train a moment longer. She still harboured a measure of resentment towards Lucy, because if she had not sent the letter, then everything would have stayed the same. Now though, her life had changed and there was no going back, and it was a shattering thing.

Pulling herself together, she gathered up her suitcase and got off the train. In the chill night air she caught a glimpse of them, Adam and Lucy, waiting for her as they had promised. She could not mistake them, for those familiar features – though now older like her own – were etched in her memories of the past.

As she walked towards them it was almost as though she had turned back the years and that somewhere nearby, Barney would be waiting to take her in his arms and hold her as before. But no! That wasn’t to be. Her heart was like a lead weight inside her. It was all too much … too much! She gave an involuntary sob. Never again would Barney embrace her, his heartbeat close to hers.

From the other end of the platform, Lucy watched her approach. Strange, she thought, how she knew it was Vicky straight off. The walk was the same, the petite figure and the way of holding herself – that was the Vicky she knew and remembered.

As Vicky came closer, she passed beneath a platform lamp, and Lucy could see the tears glinting in her old friend’s eyes. Her heart leaped, and when she turned round to speak to Adam, he was gone. She glanced about, and there he was, standing over by the gate, sending her strength, sending her love, watching over her like a guardian angel.

Now Vicky was standing before her, and the emotions that ran through Lucy were overwhelming. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ she said, choked.

Vicky did not – could not – answer. Instead, she stood motionless, her suitcase still clutched in her hand, tears rolling freely down her face as she began to realise at last that she was here, in the company of someone who had been part of her, part of Barney and the family. ‘Lucy.’ Her voice broke. ‘My God, it’s Lucy Baker.’

The two widows fell into each other’s open arms.

All those long years between, from that fateful day when Vicky and the children sailed away, to this, long-awaited moment, were as nothing now.

When the embraces were over there remained a certain awkwardness. ‘There are so many questions,’ Vicky said huskily. ‘So much I need to know.’

Lucy nodded. ‘I understand.’ Of course there would be questions, about herself and Barney, about how it was between them. Questions asking why Lucy had not told her earlier; why now, after all this time?

The prospect of all those questions made Lucy deep-down nervous.

But so too was Vicky, who walked beside Lucy as they made for where Adam waited. By then, they were chatting and smiling, but he sensed the undercurrent between them, and wondered if too much had happened for them ever to be friends again.

‘Hello, Vicky, my love,’ he said warmly, and his arms opened and she went to him.

‘It’s so good to see you again,’ she said, and the barriers between them were no more.

They talked for a few moments, and then they were in the car, driving back to Knudsden House. ‘You might want to rest and freshen up before dinner,’ Lucy offered. ‘I’ve organised it for eight thirty. You’ll meet Ben and Mary then.’

‘I’m looking forward to that very much.’ Vicky was anxious about the meeting with Mary, but curious all the same. However, before that, there was something else she must do. With no further ado she blurted out: ‘Will you take me to see where Barney is?’

Lucy had half-expected this to be Vicky’s first request. ‘I’ve already arranged it with Adam,’ she explained. ‘The churchyard is too far to walk from the house, yet it’s only a matter of ten minutes in the car. First though, I thought you might like to catch your breath, offload your suitcase and give us a chance to talk. I thought tomorrow morning might be a good time to go there, but we’ll go straight to Barney, if that’s what you prefer?’

That had been Vicky’s plan, to arrive and go straight to Barney. Now though, she did feel the need to catch her breath, as Lucy suggested. She wanted to see where Barney was laid to rest, and yet she wanted to pretend it had not happened, that somewhere, somehow, he was still alive. ‘You’re right,’ she told Lucy. ‘After that long journey, a few hours here or there don’t matter.’

‘Good! Then that’s settled.’

And the two women exchanged a deep look – of shared sorrow and an acknowledgment of the very special bond that united them.

‘It will be wonderful, to meet your Mary,’ Vicky told Lucy as they settled themselves into the comfortable back seat of the car. ‘Although, funnily enough, I’m nervous, too. You said in your letter that she lived with you. Is that still the case?’

Lucy nodded. ‘Not for much longer though. She and her fella, Ben Morris, are to be married soon. Mary’s had such bad luck with men in the past, but now it seems she’s found the right one.’ She waved her hand, as though to bring the conversation to a halt. ‘Now then, I hope you’re hungry. Our Elsie has really gone to town on our supper tonight.’

‘Who’s your Elsie?’ Vicky asked.

‘Elsie Langton is the wife of our local blacksmith. She lives in the village and comes to me every day,’ Lucy explained. ‘It’s too big a house for me to manage on my own these days and well, what with Mary’s flower-shop being so successful and all, we can just about afford dear Elsie. To be honest, we’d all be lost without her.’ Lucy knew she was gabbling on but Vicky seemed genuinely interested.

‘She takes care of the household things – cleaning and cooking and suchlike. She’s an almighty chatterbox, she’s even bossier than me, and at times she can be so infuriating you could happily strangle her,’ Lucy chuckled. ‘But she’s the salt of the earth, honest and hard-working, and totally reliable. She has a heart of gold and excels at everything she does.’

Vicky was impressed. ‘She sounds wonderful.’

‘Oh, she is! In fact, she’s an absolute treasure. You will just love her, I know you will.’

‘Does she look after the grounds as well?’ Vicky was beginning to wish she had such a paragon back home in Boston.

‘She would, if she could get her hands on them. But no, the grounds are Mary’s domain. She grows all of our flowers, fruit and veg, plants them herself, digs and hoes, and spends hours out there, weeding and working in all weathers. The lass sells most of it in her shop or at market, and there’s still enough left over for the local charities.’

Vicky was thrilled. ‘She really must take after her daddy, with such love for the land. Yes, I can tell that she must have green fingers, just like Barney, because even in this wretched weather, it’s easy to see how beautifully kept it all is here.’

They were pulling into the drive of Knudsden House by then.