Journey's End Read online

  ‘What will she do, Ben? Will she ever bring herself to tell Barney’s other family what happened? Or will she leave them to live out their lives, in ignorance?’

  Trusting him implicitly, she opened her heart. ‘I need to know where they are. I need to meet them and talk with them, about my father, and the way it was. I want them to know what he did for them … that he never stopped loving them, and that he sent them away because he didn’t want them to lose the opportunity of a new life in Boston by finding out that he was terminally ill.’

  Since Adam had confided the truth, Mary had thought about little else. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Ben? Do you think it’s wrong for me to meet my other family … Thomas and Ronnie, and Susie? As for little Jamie, he was just a baby of two when he drowned, and Mum won’t talk about him. I have to know my roots, where I came from. I want to go back there, to Liverpool where it all happened!’

  Her voice broke. ‘Oh Ben! If only I could remember clearly. Why won’t she take me there? Is she trying to protect me? Is she afraid I’ll be hurt by it all? But I’m hurting now, can’t she see that? Why doesn’t she understand that I desperately need to see where it all unfolded, if only to gain some peace of mind? I only know half the story and she won’t talk to me about it. I need to stand in the fields where they worked; I have to walk by the river where they fought to save little Jamie. I have to see where he lies and make my own peace with him.’

  Taking her in his arms, Ben quietened her. ‘I know it’s hard, but it’s hard for your mother too. She lived through it, and now she’s having to live with the consequences of it all. Give her time. It will take a lot of strength for her to face it all again, but your mother is a strong, determined woman. She will go back. She will show you where it all happened, I know she will. Be patient, my darling. She needs to be sure; when the time comes for her to face all those demons, she’s bound to want you there beside her. Because you’re hers and Barney’s child, and because going back will be one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do.’

  The two of them talked a while longer, until his embrace tightened and the kisses grew more urgent, and soon, right there on the rug, they made love for the very first time. It was a joyful, fulfilling experience, a bonding of heart and body, when the love between them was forged even stronger.

  Afterwards, with passion melted and bodies exhausted, they lay in the warm glow of the fire, thinking and dreaming of their future together. They didn’t speak for a long time, because their hearts and minds were in harmony. There was no need for words.

  After a time, while Mary was dressing, Ben ventured outside. A moment later, he was calling her. ‘MARY! Quickly – come and see!’

  Not knowing what to expect, she ran out to find him beckoning to her, his face alight with excitement.

  ‘Look!’ He pointed to one of the ewes. Head down, almost on her knees, and with the whole of her weight pressed against the fence, she was in labour, and seemingly oblivious to their presence.

  The next few minutes were magical. Inch by inch, the newborn appeared. Bathed in fluid, the lamb wormed its way out until, with the slightest plop, it slid to the ground. For what seemed an age, the mother did not move. Instead she stood, head hanging, resting. Then suddenly she turned to her offspring and began licking away the slimy, covering membrane.

  Moments later, the lamb stood up, its legs unsteady and its head seeming far too large for its tiny body. It gave itself a shake, fell over and struggled up again, and in an incredibly short time, it was searching out its mammy’s teat.

  Mary was thrilled. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Have you never seen a lamb born before?’ Ben had seen it many times now, and each time was just as wonderful as the last.

  ‘I’ve never seen one actually being born,’ Mary admitted. ‘I’ve walked the fields at different times and I’ve seen the newborns playing and skipping, but I’ve never actually seen a ewe giving birth.’

  ‘Have you ever touched a newborn lamb?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Would you like to?’

  She was surprised. ‘Won’t the mother be hostile?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Then yes, I’d like that.’

  They waited a while, until mother and newborn had bonded and the young one had its fill of milk. Then, with great care and talking to the mother as he went, Ben led Mary across the paddock.

  He did not take the newborn straight away. Instead he gestured for Mary to be still; he murmured to the sheep that he was just as proud of her baby as she was, and that he meant no harm except to show her off and then return her. But the mother displayed little interest in them, and when he reached down to lift the newborn into his arms, she merely stood and watched, almost as though she knew he meant no harm.

  At first, the little one struggled, but Ben secured the squirming bundle and holding it towards Mary, told her to smell its coat.

  Nervously, Mary leaned towards the tiny creature and sniffed at its coat. ‘It smells warm, and tangy … like fresh-made marmalade,’ she laughed. ‘Can I touch her?’

  When he nodded, she reached out and stroked her fingers over its fleece; the sensation was like nothing she had ever experienced. Beneath her touch, the tight curls of fleece felt hard and wiry. She was amazed. ‘I thought it would be soft to the touch,’ she said in wonderment.

  Before returning the lamb to its mother, Ben dipped a finger in the fluid which had cradled the newborn and was now lying in little pockets in the grass. He then wiped it over the back of the lamb and returned it to its anxious mother, who ran her tongue over its back before leading it away, contented.

  Mary was curious. ‘Why did you do that?’

  Ben explained, ‘Sometimes, a ewe will reject a lamb if she’s not sure it’s hers. We’ve both handled the lamb and we’ve left our smell on it. By wiping the fluid on its back, I made sure she could smell and recognise her newborn, so there would be no doubt in her mind.’

  This had been a day that Mary would always remember. She had made love with her husband-to-be and witnessed the miracle of birth, almost as a sign of the babies that she might have, one day in the future. But for now, she was anxious to get home and talk with her mother. For the moment, there were other important issues that needed to be resolved.

  Lucy saw them arrive. ‘They’re back now,’ she told Adam, who had been polishing the car and was now enjoying the sandwich Lucy had brought him.

  ‘Good!’ Finishing his sandwich, he excused himself. ‘I’ll away and get out of these overalls.’

  ‘Don’t be long, will you?’ Strange how with every passing day, Lucy needed him to be more a part of everything she did.

  Adam was thrilled but doubtful. ‘Are you sure you want me to stay?’

  ‘Yes, Adam, I’m sure.’ Lucy had no doubts. ‘You’ve always been a part of all this.’

  ‘Right then. I’ll go and get washed up. Give me ten minutes or so. Oh, and thanks for the sandwich.’ He handed her the plate. ‘It was tasty as always, though a bit more pickle would not have come amiss.’ With that he gave a mischievous wink and hurried away.

  Lucy went outside and waited for her daughter and Ben to climb out of his car. ‘You’ve had a delivery this morning,’ she told her daughter. ‘It’s near the greenhouse.’

  Mary, who was looking more beautiful than her mother had ever seen her, had completely forgotten. ‘What sort of a delivery?’

  ‘A load of rotting manure,’ Lucy groaned. ‘Adam helped to fork it off the cart, and by God does it stink! I can even smell it from the kitchen.’

  ‘You won’t grumble when I’ve dug it into the ground to produce fat cabbages and juicy carrots,’ Mary grinned. ‘Anyway, we had another sort of delivery today, didn’t we, Ben?’

  Ben was absent-mindedly running the flat of his hand along the side of Lucy’s car. ‘Adam keeps this car beautiful,’ he said. ‘It’s a credit to him.’

  ‘Ben!’ Mary gave him a nudge. ‘
I was just saying, we had another kind of delivery today, didn’t we?’

  ‘We certainly did … the first of the spring lambs decided to make an appearance,’ he announced proudly. ‘And we saw the whole thing, from birth to suckling.’

  Mary eagerly imparted the bones of her little adventure. ‘I stroked its coat. I always thought it would be soft and downy,’ she told her mother excitedly, ‘but it was harsh to the touch, and tight as a coiled spring.’

  ‘I could have told you that,’ Lucy teased. ‘Your daddy once had a whole flock of sheep. Spring was always the best time, when the lambs were born and I could sit on the tree-stump by the edge of the woods and watch them frisking and leaping about.’

  Before her memories could overwhelm her again, she announced briskly, ‘Come inside. I have something to tell you.’

  By the time they strolled to the kitchen door, Adam was already there, washed and changed and looking apprehensive. ‘Hello, you two!’ he greeted them. Stepping aside, he waited for the family to pass before following them across the hallway and into the drawing room.

  When they were all seated – Ben and Mary on the sofa together, Adam in the leather armchair and Lucy in the matching chair beside him, she told them all, ‘For a long time now, I’ve been toying with the idea of going back North.’ As she went on, the nervousness disappeared and a calm strength emerged. ‘It won’t be an easy thing for me to do. There will be other people living in Barney’s old house now, and strangers farming the land.’

  She grew wistful, eyes downcast. ‘The memories will still be there though, in the fields and the cottage. Memories that will never leave me … such joy and regret, and oh, the laughter we all shared.’ Such laughter, such joy, friendship and the yearning for a man she believed could never be hers.

  Swallowing hard, she looked up to see her daughter silently coaxing her to go on. Bracing herself, she cleared her throat and in a firm voice told them, ‘A visit is long overdue, and now with time seeming to pass ever more quickly, I won’t leave it any longer. I have a very old friend in Doctor Lucas, as I’m sure you’re all aware of by now. He knows me well,’ glancing at Adam, she instinctively reached out and took hold of his hand, ‘almost as well as my good friend, Adam.’

  Turning a deep shade of pink, Adam smiled. ‘Doctor Lucas is a fine man,’ he remarked. ‘It will be good to see him again, I’m sure.’

  Mary had a question for Lucy. ‘Have you told him you’re coming?’

  ‘Not yet, no.’

  ‘When do you intend going?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve only just made the decision. In a couple of weeks’ time, maybe? I’ll write to Doctor Lucas. There are any number of good hotels in the area.’

  Mary had another question. ‘Mother?’

  ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘Can we come with you – me and Ben?’

  Lucy quickly reassured her. ‘I wouldn’t dream of going back without you,’ she said. ‘When we left there, you were too young to remember what it was like …’

  Nostalgia flooded her senses. ‘I need to show you the fields where your daddy and the family worked alongside each other, and the cottage where we lived. I can’t wait to see Bridget, either. From her letters, she’s still full of life, with the dancing and the singing and the shameless flirting. She’s married four men and dumped them all one after the other, and doesn’t seem to have changed one bit. But oh, how wonderful it will be to see her again. I bet she’s grown old disgracefully, and made a fortune out of everything she’s ever touched.’

  Ben was intrigued. ‘Have you never met up in all this time?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Bridget’s been too busy making her fortune, and until now, I’ve never really mustered enough courage to go back.’ She laughed heartily. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting she looks exactly the same, and as far as I can tell, she’s still up to her old tricks, wheeling and dealing, and playing havoc with the men.’

  Caught up in Lucy’s enthusiasm, Mary ran to sit on the arm of her mother’s chair. ‘Oh Mum, I’m longing to meet her! And I want to see it all – the fields and the cottage, and the river …’

  She paused when Lucy looked at her through agonised eyes, almost as though her mother knew what was in her mind at that moment. ‘Will you take me to see where he is, Mother?’ Sliding a hand into Lucy’s, Mary gently persisted, ‘Will you take me to the churchyard where little Jamie lies?’

  In her mind Lucy saw it all – that night, and the horror – and thrusting it to the back of her mind, she avoided the question. ‘So there you are, my dear,’ she said brightly, and turning to Ben, she asked, ‘You will come with us, won’t you, Ben?’

  Just as she had hoped, Ben did not hesitate. ‘I’d like that. Thank you, Lucy.’

  Lucy clapped her hands. ‘Good! That’s wonderful. I’m sure Adam will organise it all.’ She winked at him. ‘Of course, it would be nice to have a date for the wedding too, so we can start planning for that as well. Ben’s daughter Abbie will make a beautiful bridesmaid, don’t you think, Adam?’

  Mary flung her two arms round her mother’s neck. ‘You’re a conniving old biddy,’ she chided, ‘but I wouldn’t swap you for the world.’

  Lucy would not be deterred. ‘Well, Ben? Is there soon to be a wedding or not?’

  Delighting in Lucy’s character, Ben promised, ‘I think you should get your hat and outfit ready. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it didn’t happen before too long, isn’t that right, Mary?’

  Mimicking her mother, the girl was a little coy. ‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’ With that, she took her leave. ‘Who wants a cup of tea?’

  For now, the discussion was over, but there was much to look forward to.

  And much to fear.

  Chapter 6

  BRIDGET HAD TAKEN flowers to the churchyard every Saturday, and this Saturday was no different.

  Twenty years ago, she had made a promise to a friend, and though she had been many things in her life, some of which she was not proud of, it was not in her nature to break a promise.

  Stooping to lay down the posy of white and yellow narcissi, she dug into her pocket and took out a white envelope. Then she held it up, almost as though she thought little Jamie could see it. ‘I had a letter from yer mammy this morning,’ she murmured in her soft Irish lilt. ‘At long last, she’s coming to see us. What d’you think o’ that, eh? Ah, sure, it won’t be easy for yer mammy … what with a family in the cottage an’ the river only a spit away, as if nothing bad ever happened there. But we all know different, don’t we, eh?’

  Drawing a deep breath through her nostrils, she blew it out in a great sigh. ‘Ah, but she’s a brave woman, yer mammy. After you were took, she went away with dear Barney. She made a new life and though we’ve written time and again, we’ve not clapped eyes on each other these many years.’

  When a dewdrop appeared on the end of her nose she cuffed it away. ‘There’s a chill wind brewing,’ she said. ‘I’d best be going, or my knee will seize up again.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m not so young as I was, more’s the pity, but I can’t let the years get the better of me, ’cause once I do that, I’m finished.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Inside, I’m still the young woman who fought and clawed her way to the top.’

  After rearranging the posy in a nicer position, she clambered to her feet, groaning as she straightened up. ‘The old bones are beginning to complain, but the mind’s as quick as it ever was.’ Bridget was thankful for the good health she enjoyed. It meant she could keep to her schedule and stay one step ahead of advancing years.

  She rubbed her sore knees and for a moment was quiet in contemplation. ‘In some ways it might be better if yer mammy never came back, poor wee thing,’ she said, ‘but then I wouldn’t see her, would I? An’ she wouldn’t see you, an’ that would be a terrible shame, especially when it’s taken her so long to make this particular journey.’

  The man’s kindly voice startled her. ‘You know what they say
about people who talk to themselves?’

  Swinging round, she almost fell over. ‘Jaysus! I almost had a heart attack. What d’you want to creep up on me like that for?’

  The man apologised. ‘I wasn’t creeping up on you,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I’ve seen you so often down here, I thought I might come up and say hello.’

  Slim and tidy, with a pleasant bearded face, something about him jogged Bridget’s memory. ‘Have I seen ye somewhere before?’ she asked. ‘You look familiar.’

  He laughed at that. ‘Isn’t that what the men are supposed to say when they see a woman who takes their fancy?’

  Bridget could see the funny side. ‘Ah well now, it’s not that I’m after taking your fancy,’ she joked in return. ‘I really do believe I’ve seen ye somewheres before.’

  Offering the hand of friendship, he introduced himself. ‘The name’s Oliver Rogers.’

  Bridget shook his hand. ‘An’ how d’you do then, Oliver Rogers.’ Suddenly she was blushing to the roots of her hair. ‘Ah, now I know where I’ve seen ye. That’s it! You used to visit my old place … Gawd Almighty! Sure, that’s more years ago than I care to remember.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re right. It must be at least twenty-four years since I climbed the steps to spend an hour or so with one of your girls.’

  Bridget nodded. ‘If I remember aright, you always asked for Judy.’

  ‘That’s right, I did.’ He seemed embarrassed. ‘But only because she was the nearest to you I could get … same red hair and that wonderful bubbly nature. It was always you I wanted, Bridget. You were the loveliest of them all, but you were always just out of reach.’

  Like a young schoolgirl on her first date, Bridget protested, ‘Away with you! Why would you want me, when you could have the pick of my girls?’

  He gazed at her for a moment, before answering softly, ‘We can’t help who we fall in love with, can we?’

  For the first time in her life, Bridget was lost for words. When she did speak, her voice was alive with anger. ‘Soft talk, is it? I expect you’ve found out that I’ve made it good and you want a slice of it. Well, aren’t you the cunning blighter, eh? In love with me, you say? Hmh! I know what you’re after, so I do.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘I’m far too canny to fall for all that nonsense, so ye’d best be on yer way, before ye see a side to me you wouldn’t like! Go on, be off with you! I’ve no wish to renew our acquaintance. What’s more, I can’t be wasting the day talking to the likes o’ you. I’m a busy woman, so I am.’