Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection

Lucy was delighted by the compliment to her daughter. ‘Mary’s also got a couple of cows, which she milks by hand,’ she added proudly, ‘and a dozen hens that lay enough eggs to feed a whole congregation.’

‘So, your Elsie is never short of milk or eggs then?’

‘Not so’s you’d notice, no – though if she’s not complaining that she’s got too many, she’s moaning that she’s never got enough. You can’t please our Elsie no matter how hard you try.’

As it happened, the very person herself was waiting for them as Adam helped them out of the car.

‘You’ll be the old friend that Miss Lucy’s been going on about from morning to night,’ she said, rushing forward, the hand of friendship outstretched. ‘I’m Elsie, general dogsbody and hard done by. How d’yer do?’

Before Vicky could get a word in, Elsie was rushing on; ‘I expect that one’s already blackened me name, saying as how I’m a lazy good-for-nothing who can’t cook, can’t make a bed without leaving lumpy bits, and doesn’t know one end of a yard-broom from the other!’

‘Can’t keep quiet for a minute at a time, more like!’ Lucy laughed. ‘Behave yourself. Our guest is starving hungry and tired from the long journey, so be off and keep an eye on our dinner, please.’

Elsie tutted. ‘See how she treats me?’ she enquired of Vicky. ‘Bossing and bullying. Do this, do that.’ Rolling her eyes to the clouds, she went inside and locked herself in the kitchen.

Vicky laughed heartily. ‘You were right,’ she said. ‘She is an absolute treasure.’

Adam went on ahead of them. ‘I’ll put this suitcase in your room,’ he told Vicky, ‘then I’ll make myself scarce for an hour.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Vicky told him.

‘I think it might be best,’ he answered. Knowing how these two had a lot of catching up to do, he insisted, ‘I’ll see you both in an hour or so.’ And before they could argue, he was quickly gone.

As they walked into the hallway, Vicky looked around at the wood-panelled walls and long casement windows. ‘Oh Lucy, this is so lovely!’ she exclaimed. ‘So full of character. Is this where you and Barney lived together?’ There was a wonderfully warm, inviting atmosphere in this house, she thought.

‘We lived here, yes,’ Lucy replied thoughtfully, ‘for the short time we had. Poor Barney was in the last stages of his illness then. I sold the cottage that Mr Maitland kindly gave to me and … and Jamie – thanks to you and Barney – and we managed between us to buy this place, as it was very rundown and going cheap. Dear Adam has put his back into restoring it, over the past twenty years.’

‘And were you happy, the two of you?’

‘As much as we could be, under the circumstances.’ Lucy thought that a difficult question to answer.

Resentment rose in Vicky. ‘It must have been very hard for you both.’ But her voice sounded tight.

‘It was. But we lived one day at a time, and somehow we managed to find a deal of joy in every moment.’

Vicky’s thoughts were with Barney, and her heart ached. ‘I should have been here,’ she burst out. ‘I should have been with him!’

Unsure how to deal with the situation, Lucy spoke her mind. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you felt bitter … about me and Barney, I mean.’

Vicky’s features hardened. ‘I am bitter,’ she replied hoarsely. ‘I’m angry because you didn’t think to bring me back earlier.’ Her voice rose in a cry of anguish. ‘You can have no idea of the heartache and regrets that haunted me … haunted all of us and still do!’ Turning away, she began pacing the floor. ‘And now when it’s all too late, I discover that Barney was ill when he sent us away – that he turned to you instead of keeping me by his side.’ Her eyes alive with suspicion, she swung round. ‘It makes me wonder how long the affair had been going on. Tell me, Lucy. Were you lovers right under my nose … all the time making a fool of me? Is that it? He had come to need you more than he needed me … even when he was dying?’ The last words came out as a howl.

Horrified, Lucy took a step forward. ‘No, Vicky, you’re wrong! It was never like that!’

As she reached out to touch her old friend, Vicky began sobbing, all the pent-up emotions let loose in a vehement tirade. ‘How can I believe you? You! A woman who took my husband to herself and bore him a child, when all the time none of us knew why he sent us away.’ She was almost screaming now. ‘You knew, though, and still you didn’t think fit to bring me back. I missed him so much … Oh dear God! My Barney, so desperately ill, and me so far away on the other side of the world!’

Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed like a child. And when Lucy reached out, this time she did not flinch. Instead she fell into Lucy’s arms and clung to her, until the sobbing eased and her pain was bearable.

Deeply saddened, Lucy continued to hold her. The tears ran freely down her own face and her heart was heavy with sadness.

Eventually, Vicky raised her head and whispered, ‘Oh Lucy, I was just hitting out … I didn’t mean it.’

Lucy nodded. ‘I know.’

Vicky took a deep breath. ‘It’s just that … oh, I have so many regrets.’

After a time, when the two of them were seated and quiet, Lucy had a question. ‘Did you find at least some measure of contentment with Leonard?’

Vicky did not hesitate. ‘Yes, I did. But it was a strange contentment. It took a long time for me to regard him as anything other than a friend. Even then, it was as though there was something else, someone else, always there, between us.’

She looked away, her thoughts going deep. ‘Even when I was with Leonard, laughing, working, building a home for the children, Barney was always there. Leonard knew it and I knew it, but it was all right, because Barney had sent me away, and Leonard had taken me under his wing … taken all of us under his wing.’ She paused, her thoughts going back over the years she shared with Leonard.

‘We never had a child,’ she murmured softly. ‘I suppose it was never meant to be.’

Sensing a deeper sadness, Lucy gently reminded her, ‘Leonard was a good man and a good and loyal friend to Barney.’

‘I know that. But I still can’t forgive him for lying to me.’

‘It isn’t as if he lied outright,’ Lucy suggested lamely. ‘He just never told you.’

‘But don’t you see – it’s the same thing!’

Lucy hesitated. ‘Will you ever forgive him?’

Vicky shook her head. ‘Never! I will never forgive or forget, until the day that I die.’

And Lucy bowed her head in shame for her part in Barney’s secret sacrifice.

Chapter 15 (#ulink_1714820a-99fa-5bad-ab0b-ec8a5e9409c2)

WHEN LUCY HAD shown her up to her room, Vicky rested a while, then washed and changed, ready for dinner. Somewhere in Knudsden House, a grandfather clock was striking eight. ‘Got to make a good impression,’ Vicky said to herself, and she did a slow, dignified twirl in front of the bedroom mirror.

The cream-coloured dress she had brought with her from Boston was well-suited to her slim, upright figure. You don’t look too bad for your age, my girl, she thought approvingly. Leaning forward, she wiped the tip of her finger along her lips, evenly spreading more of the light-coloured French lipstick that brought out the colour of her slate-grey eyes. Her hair was swept back and kept in place by a sparkling diamanté clip in the shape of a curled leaf.

Vicky knew how to dress for dinner. It was one of the social niceties that were part and parcel of her marriage to Leonard. Whereas her life with Barney had been simple and easy, her position in Boston as the wife of a land baron moved her in different circles. Her values and principles had never changed, though. Forging a strong family bond and being there when needed had always been her priorities.

Down the landing, Lucy was beginning to panic. Her hair wouldn’t go where it was supposed to, and the shoulder-strap on her dress had just snapped as she slipped it over her head. ‘Damn and bugger it!’ she cursed.

Slinging the dress over the back of a chair, she stood a moment, contemplating what to do. She could wear the white dress, but that didn’t seem appropriate somehow, or she could simply put on her brown skirt and blue top … no, she couldn’t turn up for dinner looking like a school-marm!

Flinging open the wardrobe door, she flicked through the many garments hanging there. ‘Why is it I can never do anything right?’ she hissed aloud. ‘It’s nerves,’ she decided. ‘It’s all too much in one day and now I’ve got an attack of the heeby-jeebies.’

Finally, she settled on the emerald-green dress, the one with little puff sleeves and a pretty lace neckline. When she slithered into it now, she felt just right; the waist sat snugly and the skirt flounced just the teeniest bit. ‘Not too frumpy, not too sassy,’ she said, sliding her feet into a pair of black slip-on shoes. There was a gas fire in her bedroom, and a good coal one in the sitting room, but all the same she arranged a mohair stole around her shoulders to keep out the draughts.

With the shoes on and the dress in place, she almost tumbled over while attempting to check that the seams on her stockings were straight; next she brushed her hair and rolled it into a halo round her head, while teasing out just the tiniest curl here and there. A touch of rouge and just the smallest brush of mascara and she was ready to face the world. ‘Now, if your bones don’t ache too much, and you don’t fall asleep at nine o’clock, you’ll be all right.’ Twice she had done that and never been allowed to forget it.

But that was when she had first come out of hospital so that didn’t count, or so she told herself. It wasn’t old age creeping up fast. It was the after-effects of lying about in a hospital bed. Well, anyway that’s what she made herself believe.

At ten minutes past eight she made her way downstairs. Five minutes later, Vicky followed.