Disputed Love

by Margaret Carr

  He led them back to the car and fastened the still chattering Jack back into his seat. Belle was still out of breath after trying to keep up with Jeffrey’s long strides. She gave his profile a swift sidelong glance as he climbed into the car, fastened his seat-belt and started the engine.

  ‘Peter Kettering’s in London,’ she said in a low tone when they were on their way. ‘She made it sound as though it was just a flying visit and he was expected back soon. Yet when we overheard them at the pub they were only booking in for a couple of days. Do you think they mean to stay and fight over Jack?’

  ‘It looks like it, doesn’t it?’

  ‘But I don’t understand. How can he if he has nothing to back up his claim with?’

  ‘He must think he has.’

  ‘What can he possibly have to make such a wild claim?’

  ‘My wife was a very independent lady,’ he ground out as the car glided smoothly along the road. ‘She believed in having the same liberties as men, and I’m pretty certain she had one or two affairs behind my back. It was all a part of her strong feminist lifestyle.’

  Belle stared blindly ahead, hearing the swish of the wipers and the splashing of passing cars. If Kathleen had been unfaithful to Jeffrey, then Jack could be anyone’s!

  CHAPTER SIX

  The thought horrified Belle and for the next few days she was afraid to let Jack out of her sight. She insisted upon going with them to feed the animals first thing. On this particular morning the weather was atrocious and they returned to the kitchen soaked through. Jeffrey was angry as he hung his wet jacket over the back of a kitchen chair.

  ‘This behaviour of yours is ridiculous. Kettering is not coming back and even if he did he’s hardly going to snatch the boy from under our noses.’

  Tears weren’t far away as Belle struggled to get out of the coat that had soaked up all the wet and now lay heavy and cold across her shoulders. From nowhere, two hands descended to lift the weight from her neck and slide the coat down her arms.

  ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled as she made to spread the coat in front of the range.

  ‘You get on with the breakfast. I’ll see to Jack,’ he muttered.

  He wasn’t such a bad person, Belle thought, as she pulled out the pans. She tried to visualise him in Portugal, being tanned by the sun, working outside, laughing and playing with Jack while she watched from the doorstep, as her mother had watched her. Slim chance, she thought as she placed sausages in a frying pan and put the porridge on to warm.

  ‘I don’t want you coming out again, Isabelle,’ Jeffrey said as he helped Jack out of his damp clothes.

  Belle’s hands stilled on the frying pan handle. It was the first time he had addressed her by her Christian name and a knot in her chest caused her breath to catch in her throat.

  ‘We call her Belle,’ Jack explained in a patient voice.

  ‘Belle’s a pet name. Isabelle is her real name,’ his father said as he bent down to pull the wellingtons from the little boy’s feet.

  ‘But Belle likes being a pet, don’t you, Belle?’

  Jack looked expectantly at her over his father’s shoulder. Belle twisted around to smile down at him.

  ‘Of course I do.’

  She was cooking them sausages and fried bread and she asked Jeffrey in a light voice without taking her eyes from the pan, ‘Do you prefer Jeff or Jeffrey?’

  ‘I’ve always been Jeffrey,’ he said, close behind her now, his breath tickling her neck.

  She was very conscious of him. Then a complaint came from the little boy at the table.

  ‘Is my breakfast ready yet?’

  She heaped the bread on to the plate of sausages and put it on the range to keep warm while they ate their porridge.

  * * *

  The stone by the gate was where the mail was left, as Belle had discovered a few days after her arrival. She was reluctant to leave a message there for Mac, in case Jeffrey was to come across it. Why she should be concerned that Jeffrey might find her message she didn’t know. He already knew she had been out with Mac the night they saw the Ketterings.

  She toyed with the envelope in her hand as she stood by the gate that afternoon. The rain had cleared, leaving behind it lots of mud and large puddles. Jack had wanted to shut the chickens in and was chasing them around their run now. Belle smiled at the chickens’ ruffled disdain for this miniature whirlwind in their midst.

  There was no other way to contact Mac. She didn’t even know where he lived or where his surgery was, yet she badly needed to talk to someone and he was the only other person she knew. Jack had given up chasing the chickens and was coming towards her, stamping his feet in every puddle on the way. Without giving herself another moment to think, she bent down and stuffed the envelope beneath the stone.

  ‘What you doing, Belle?’

  ‘Leaving a letter for Mac. Now come on and I’ll help you catch those silly birds and lock them in their house.’

  Taking his hand she swung him back across the yard, splashing through the puddles in the bright yellow wellingtons she had bought herself in Moorgate.

  Next evening, she once again asked Jeffrey if he would stay with Jack while she went out. He agreed without expressing any interest and Belle left the cottage after putting Jack to bed. She drove down to the village, her mind in a whirl. Mac had left a message that morning. He’d be in The Ugly Duckling at seven, it said. She needed to talk about all that had happened but at the same time she just knew she was going to feel guilty talking about Jeffrey to someone he would not approve of.

  When she entered the inn and was greeted by Nan, the landlord’s wife, the first people she saw, after a swift glance around the lounge, were the Ketterings sitting at a table in the far corner by the fireplace!

  ‘Mac’s in the back, love,’ Nan said across the bar at her. ‘Why don’t you go in and join him?’

  ‘Thank you, he is expecting me.’

  ‘I know. He asked me to look out for you.’

  Belle made her way out to the hall and down the back corridor to the kitchen. Here she found Mac in earnest conversation with two tough-looking men, both of whom wore disgruntled expressions. Belle sat down on the empty sofa and waited. She was quite happy to wait until he had finished his business, until she heard Kettering’s name being mentioned.

  Jumping up, she crossed the floor to where the men stood, her action attracting Mac’s attention for the first time.

  ‘Hello, there,’ he said, breaking away from his conversation with the men.

  The men turned to leave, then Belle cried, ‘Wait. You were talking about Kettering.’

  Mac looked confused, shook his head at the two men, who then turned and left.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ she said to him. ‘I have to know what Kettering is up to.’

  ‘I think we have to talk. What can I get you to drink, red wine same as last time?’

  ‘Yes, please. I have a lot to tell you.’

  He smiled down at her then went into the bar for the drinks.

  When they were settled in front of the fire, Mac said, ‘Well, what’s all this about?’

  Belle took a good drink then, staring into the fire, brought him up to date on the Ketterings’ visit and their wild claims that Jack was Peter Kettering’s son. She told him about Mrs Kettering’s strange behaviour in the store and Jeffrey’s revelation that his wife had been unfaithful to him. She admitted her own dislike of the Ketterings and her fear of what would happen to Jack if these people gained custody. When silence fell she raised her eyes to look across at Mac.

  ‘What am I going to do?’

  He was scowling.

  ‘You sound as if you are settled in to stay at the cottage. I thought you were looking to get away from Carlton. Perhaps the little lad would be better off with this other man if he is his true father.’

  ‘Of course he wouldn’t. You didn’t like Kettering any more than I did when we first saw them.’

  ‘He has offered to take you wit
h the lad though, so he can’t be all bad.’

  Belle put down the glass she had been drinking from and said thoughtfully, ‘I suppose so. A dispute like this is so confusing for Jack. He’s almost hyper on the excitement of thinking that everyone he meets wants to keep him.’

  She watched a smile slowly cross the vet’s face, then they were both laughing.

  ‘The two men who were in here a few moments ago are working for me,’ he said quietly after their outburst of laughter had died down. ‘Someone is suspected of trying to inject a beast with anthrax on the farm next to the one you’re on. The men think it’s a one-off but the police will be keeping a close eye out for the present. Kettering’s name was mentioned in connection with a rumour. Apparently a dubious character in the town was approached by someone supposedly acting on Kettering’s behalf, to arrange this anthrax scare.’

  ‘Do you mean they’re prepared to do this dreadful thing deliberately?’ Belle exclaimed.

  ‘Looks like it. You’d better warn Carlton to watch his cattle up there in case it does turn out to have something to do with him and this Kettering.’

  Belle nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘If Jeffrey lost his job for any reason he would lose the cottage. Without a home he would be classified unfit to care for Jack.’

  Mac’s brow creased at the concern in her voice.

  ‘I doubt that anyone will get the better of Carlton.’

  ‘How soon will you know if Peter Kettering is behind this incident?’

  ‘Well, he’s a stranger to the area. To all intents and purposes he’s just another visitor passing through. But the police are dealing with it now and I’m sure if Kettering does have any unsavoury connections they will all be brought out into the open. Now can we change the subject to more pleasant things like, will you let me take you to dinner one night this week?’

  Belle smiled.

  ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

  Belle felt a little more confident as she left Mac in the pub doorway later that night. She had recovered from the shock of hearing how far Peter Kettering was prepared to go but was still puzzled as to why he should feel he must go to such lengths. Wasn’t the threatened court action enough?

  On her return to the cottage, Jeffrey rose and prepared to leave without a word. Belle caught his arm as he made to pass her.

  ‘There’s been an incident on the next farm. Mac told me that someone tried to infect their herd with anthrax.’

  ‘What?’

  He stared at her as though she had made it up. So she went on to tell him everything Mac had told her. A look of grim determination replaced the disbelief. Without another word he crossed to the door and locked it behind him.

  On Thursday evening, Belle met Mac at The Ugly Duckling where she left her car, and after joining him in his four-wheel they drove out on to the Newcastle road. It was a clear, frosty evening and the roads were slippy. Half an hour later, they turned off the main road and pulled up in front of a small restaurant. They hurried across the forecourt and were soon seated comfortably in a cosy room with oak beams and an open log fire.

  Belle was still worried about the threat the Ketterings posed to Jack’s happiness. Mac threw her a sympathetic smile, but after a while interrupted her.

  ‘You did warn Carlton about the anthrax, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Are the Ketterings still at the pub?’ Belle inquired.

  ‘Yes, I believe so.’

  He was studying the menu and didn’t look up.

  ‘Why are they still there? I don’t understand. They haven’t been back to the cottage.’

  ‘They could be waiting for word from their solicitor, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, I wish they would go away,’ Belle said, deciding on soup for starters with the game casserole to follow. ‘I don’t suppose the police have heard anything new.’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  She had dressed carefully for this date with Mac in a wine woollen dress with long sleeves and a V-neck, the draped bodice of which set off her slim but shapely figure to perfection. A single string of pearls at her neck and a drop pearl in each ear set off its simplicity. She’d felt good about herself, knowing she would be able to hold her own wherever he should decide to take her. Then her glance met Peter Kettering’s across the room.

  ‘What’s the matter? Is the soup too hot?’ Mac asked on hearing her gasp.

  Belle shook her head.

  ‘Peter Kettering is seated across the room, staring at us.’

  ‘Is his wife with him?’

  ‘No. There’s a man with him, but I don’t know him.’

  ‘Describe him to me,’ Mac spoke quietly.

  He was sitting with his back to the centre of the room.

  ‘Broad, brown curly hair, grey pin-stripe suit and what looks like a heavy gold ring on his little finger.’

  ‘Well, well, Thomas Gunn.’

  ‘You know him?’ Belle asked.

  ‘A local solicitor of questionable repute.’

  Belle glanced once more across the room but the two men were deep in conversation and failed to notice. She and Mac were quiet for the rest of the meal. Belle’s thoughts had turned inward to Jeffrey’s apparent unconcern at the Ketterings’ claim or the threat they posed. The evening was not a great success and although Mac’s warm, friendly nature never hinted at disappointment, Belle sensed that he was.

  Back at the cottage, she again forestalled Jeffrey at bedtime on his way to the barn. He scowled down at her.

  ‘What is it this time?’

  Glancing over at the chairs before the fire, she turned back to him.

  ‘Please.’

  With a grunt he returned to his chair.

  ‘I saw Peter Kettering tonight. He was with another man, a solicitor Mac recognised, a Thomas Gunn.’

  There was no movement from the opposite chair and Belle persisted.

  ‘Mac reckons this Gunn is on the shady side.’

  ‘Turning into a proper little gossip, aren’t you?’

  ‘But you must see how important it is that we’re careful.’

  She was watching for his reactions.

  ‘Why? What exactly do you think he is going to do apart from try to make us homeless?’

  Belle could feel herself becoming agitated.

  ‘Don’t you care if they take Jack from you? I thought you were growing fond of him.’

  ‘Jack is my son. He stays with me. If this Kettering fancies he has a claim to him then we will hear through his solicitor, at which point I will assign my own solicitor.’

  Angry and confused she snapped, ‘And what if your solicitor’s not good enough and you lose? Or what if they succeed in harming the animals and you are out of a job and a home? What then?’

  ‘Then you will get what you wanted in the first place, won’t you, a different father for Jack? He’ll have both parents and you a continuation of a cushy little job. Perhaps they will keep you on until Jack goes to school. What do you think?’

  ‘I think I hate you,’ Belle cried. ‘But Jack is growing to love you. How will he feel when he is passed on to yet another father? Is that what you want for him?’

  There was no reply.

  Jeffrey didn’t come in to collect Jack next morning and Belle, afraid that what she had said the night before may have upset him to the extent of him taking it out on Jack, decided to go and find him and apologise if necessary. She dressed them both in their coats and taking Jack by the hand led him across to the barn. She knocked firmly on the door. There was no reply, so, throwing caution to the wind, she thrust open the door and marched in.

  He was stretched, fully-clothed, along the top of the sleeping-bag and for a moment Belle’s heart stopped beating. His face was turned away from her, resting on his bent arm. A shotgun lay on the floor.

  ‘Oh, my,’ Belle whispered.

  Her attention was caught by the huge lumps of stone in all
shapes and colours, at the back of the barn. Large skylights in the roof filled the otherwise windowless barn with light. The floor was swept clean and only the car’s tyre marks showed where it had been out in the previous days. There was an old gas heater, several gas bottles and a painted chest of drawers covered in an assortment of tools and rags. But what had really made Belle gasp was the figure gradually rising from the block of black marble in the centre of the floor.

  It was the most incredible piece of sculpture and it made Belle itch to stroke it. A life-size girl uncoiled from the stone, long hair barely concealing her modesty, while her hands lay crossed across her. Belle stared for a long time until a movement from the bed had her turning back to Jack.

  Motioning the little lad to stand still and be quiet, Belle crept forward, intending to wake Jeffrey gently. Without warning a hand clenched her ankle and sent her sprawling on to the floor. Jeffrey was standing over her when she opened her eyes and she heard Jack laughing.

  ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ Jeffrey roared. ‘I could have killed you.’

  Jack’s laughter died.

  The barn floor smelled of old hay and earth as Belle rolled over and climbed with care on to her knees. Then she was yanked to her feet and dusted down with a hard hand.

  ‘Don’t ever do that again, sneak in here while I’m asleep.’

  His tight mouth quivered as though unsure as to whether it should twist with derision or lift in a smile. Belle’s heart was doing crazy things she couldn’t account for. Why, for instance, did she want to put her arms around him and beg him to hold her close and tell her that they were all going to be all right? She wanted them to stay together, and she wanted him to want them to stay together.

  Then Jack was beside them, staring up into their faces.

  ‘When you didn’t come in to collect Jack I thought you meant to ignore him.’

  ‘I’ve been awake all night watching for your supposed anthrax contaminators. Needless to say no-one turned up.’

  He pushed the gun out of sight under the bed.

  ‘I’ll leave Jack with you then and go and get breakfast,’ she mumbled before hurrying out of the barn and back to the cottage.