In Search of Hope

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘You can come here to wee-wee on your own from now on,’ she told him. ‘Look, I’ve put your special seat here.’

  He nodded, seeming relieved by the sight of the familiar object. He looked round the bathroom, which was old-fashioned. ‘Where’s the shower?’

  ‘There isn’t one. There’s only a bath in this house.’

  ‘I like baths. Where’s my ducky?’

  Oh, damn! She hadn’t thought to bring his duck and bath toys. ‘He’s still in his old home. We’ll buy you a new ducky for this house.’ As Ned’s mouth began to wobble and shift into a square shape, the forerunner to tears, she said hastily, ‘Come on. We’ll get our breakfast first then have our baths.’

  That distracted him. He was always hungry in the mornings. She had completely lost her appetite, but knew she had to keep up her strength, so forced down a bowl of cereal.

  She kept an eye on the clock and by half past eight, she was dressing Ned in his outdoor clothes, ready to go and see the lawyer. The sooner the better.

  As soon as she went outside, Joss came out to greet her, which suggested he’d been watching out for her. He looked casual and relaxed this morning in jeans, a plain grey top over a blue checked shirt and sneakers. She thought the lock of hair standing upright at the back of his head looked cute.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’m just off to see Mr Greaves.’

  ‘And the domestic violence squad? You will go and make a complaint to them, won’t you? I’ve written down their address.’ He held out a slip of paper.

  She took it reluctantly. ‘I’m … not sure.’ She hated the thought of exposing her body and her troubles to strangers. Besides, she already had some photos and a witness. ‘Must go.’

  She strapped Ned into his seat, got in and turned the key in the ignition. It clicked and there was a faint ticking noise, then nothing. ‘Oh, no!’ She tried again but it was no use. Either the battery was dead or something else had gone wrong. She’d been lucky to get here in a twelve-year-old car, really.

  But what was she going to do now? Unless things had changed greatly in the village, she couldn’t get into Rochdale without a car.

  There was a tapping on the side window and she wound it down.

  ‘Pop open the bonnet and I’ll see if I can find out what’s wrong.’

  She did as Joss asked and waited, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, praying that it was just a loose connection.

  He came back, wiping his fingers on a tissue. ‘I think your battery has died. It’s not as ancient as the car, but it’s pretty old.’

  For all her efforts to stay calm, tears welled in her eyes and she couldn’t think what to do. ‘I’m not … in the RAC, or anything like that. Steven wouldn’t … pay for it.’

  His voice was gentle. ‘What time are you seeing Henry?’

  ‘Nine o’clock.’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Why don’t I take you into Rochdale and, after you’ve seen him, we can go and buy you another battery?’

  She heard her voice wobble, was ashamed of what a struggle it was not to weep. ‘Thank you. I hate to keep bothering you. Only, unless Mr Greaves can advance me some money, I don’t have enough to buy a new battery.’

  ‘I’m sure Henry will give you what you need. You are an heiress, after all.’

  She managed a watery smile. ‘You must think I’m a fool, crying like this.’ She blew her nose, determined to stop.

  ‘No. Just a woman driven to desperation. And I’m happy to help. It’s a poor show if neighbours can’t look after one another. Oh, and if you need to buy some groceries afterwards, it’ll suit me to do the same.’

  ‘Thank you. That’d be great. I’ll have to change Ned’s booster seat over to your car.’

  ‘I know how to sort that out. I have a five-year-old nephew.’ He opened the back door, reached in to unfasten the straps and lifted the little boy out.

  To her surprise, Ned went to him willingly and stood beside him watching as he fitted the car seat. When Joss offered to lift him in, Ned smiled and held up his arms.

  Libby realised she was sitting there staring at her neighbour like an idiot. But she felt exhausted this morning. She didn’t have time to rest, so gave her eyes a final wipe and got out of the car, fumbling to put the key in to lock the doors. No fancy remotes to lock and unlock her old car.

  ‘Just a minute.’ Joss turned to her. ‘I need to get your battery out. We have to make sure we get the right sort of replacement.’

  His car wasn’t a luxury model like Steven’s Mercedes, but the seat was comfortable and she leaned back against it gratefully, happy to let someone else do the driving.

  The journey into Rochdale went smoothly. Once again Joss didn’t say much, and she didn’t feel like making conversation, either. She listened to Ned chatting to Boo-Bear about what they were passing and that happy little sound soothed something inside her. Her son was coping with the changes more easily than she’d expected. It was she who was struggling to keep her emotions under control.

  She’d married expecting to stay married for life. Divorce was such an admission of failure.

  She felt as if she’d reached rock bottom. Surely things would improve from now on. She had to believe that.

  When they stopped in the parking area beside the lawyer’s rooms, which were in a large old house that had been converted, Joss said abruptly, ‘As a trustee of your grandmother’s will, I need to have a quick word with Henry about something. Do you mind if I nip in to see him first? It won’t take more than a couple of minutes. Then I can go to the bank while you’re speaking to him.’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  He opened the door to the lawyer’s rooms with a cheerful, ‘Hi, Mrs Hockton. This is Rose’s granddaughter, Libby.’

  The receptionist gaped at Libby’s bruised face, but quickly summoned up a professional smile. ‘Welcome to Rochdale, Mrs Pulford.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll be using my maiden name again from now onwards, though. Ms King.’

  ‘I’ll remember in future. Your grandmother would have liked that.’

  ‘I need to see Henry first, Mrs H,’ Joss said.

  ‘I’ll check if he’s ready.’ She vanished for a minute, then came back smiling. ‘Go straight through.’

  As he walked along to Henry’s office, Joss smiled as he heard her speak to Libby about finding some toys for Ned to play with. Very capable woman, Helen Hockton. He tapped on the door. ‘I need a quick word about Rose’s granddaughter before you speak to her.’

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘She has problems. Mostly to do with her husband, who’s beaten her quite badly. She has a bruised face and I think probably a cracked rib or two from the way she’s wincing when she moves. She also has no money whatsoever and a very elderly car that wouldn’t start this morning. It needs a new battery. There are provisions in the will for advancing her extra money for necessities. I think we should exercise them.’

  Henry studied him for a moment and Joss stared back, puzzled. ‘What’s the matter? Have I got oil from her car on my nose or something?’

  ‘No. It’s just that you sound like the old Joss, the one I knew before the accident, the one who used to care about other people’s problems. Welcome back.’

  That was the trouble with people who’d known you as a boy, Joss thought. They felt they could say anything they liked to you. ‘This isn’t about me, Henry; it’s about Libby. There’s one other thing to sort out, but it’s probably the most important of all, and that’s to persuade her to go to the domestic violence unit today. I’ll take her after she’s finished with you.’

  ‘Is it that bad?’

  ‘Yes. They need to document her injuries and claims while the bruising still shows. The boy has some bruises too. Apparently the father kicked him out of the way. She’s reluctant and embarrassed. I do understand that it’s a hard thing to do, but nonetheless …’

  Henry scowled. ‘I can�
�t stand men who beat women. As for kicking a small child, well, there aren’t words bad enough for that.’

  ‘I agree. Libby says her neighbour overheard the quarrel and took some photos the next day, but she needs evidence that’s incontrovertible. Neighbours can be got at by abusive men; the people in the local unit can’t.’

  ‘Ask Mrs H to ring up and make an appointment. You can drive Libby there after you’ve been to the bank. I’ll make sure she agrees to do it. As your fellow trustee, I’ll counter-sign a release form for the money.’ He swung round and opened a drawer in his filing cabinet to take out some papers. ‘Oh, and we’d better get her a debit card. With limits, of course.’

  ‘I can get all that started.’

  ‘I’ll leave the practical details of settling her at the cottage in your hands, but keep me up to date with where you’re at. I trust your judgement absolutely.’

  Joss left the office feeling satisfied that between them he and Henry would do what was necessary. But after he’d got Libby settled, he’d get on with his own life. He wasn’t getting involved in her everyday life long-term.

  He sighed. His divorce had been bitter and he’d decided not to get too deeply involved with anyone from now on. It hurt to see your marriage going down the tube and he’d hated the quarrels.

  From now on, he wasn’t looking for anything permanent, because he couldn’t face all the legal hassles you got if things went wrong.

  Anyway, apart from the fact that he respected Libby too much to offer her a casual fling, she was still married. Even when she got her divorce, her violent husband had probably put her off men for life, or at least for a few years.

  No, he’d keep things simple and friendly, be a good neighbour but nothing more.

  She was sitting in the waiting room, leaning against the back of the chair with her eyes closed, as she had done in the car. She looked exhausted even after a night’s sleep. The bruising stood out starkly, a livid stain across her fair skin. He exchanged quick, concerned glances with Mrs Hockton.

  ‘Libby.’ When she didn’t move, he knelt beside her and repeated her name more loudly, putting one hand gently on her arm.

  She jerked in shock. ‘What? Oh, sorry. I must have drifted off. That’s so unlike me.’

  ‘Long drives are tiring for everyone, and it’s been a very stressful time for you. Look, I’ll go and attend to my business then come back and collect you. And please … do what Henry advises. He’s a very astute man.’

  She watched Joss leave before turning to the receptionist.

  Mrs Hockton smiled across at her. ‘Shall I take you through to Mr Greaves now, Ms King?’

  ‘Yes, please. Come on, Ned. Bring Boo-Bear with you.’

  Mr Greaves wasn’t the fatherly figure she’d expected. He might have silver hair, but he was tall and as elegant as his receptionist. That well-tailored suit must have cost a fortune. Had her down-to-earth grandma really had a lawyer like this?

  He came across to her, smiling warmly and offering his hand. ‘Libby, I’m so pleased to meet you at last. You don’t mind if I call you Libby? Only it’s how I think of you from talking to your grandmother.’

  She shook his hand and he kept hold of hers for a minute, studying her bruised face openly.

  She tried to distract him. ‘This is my son, Ned.’

  ‘Hello, Ned.’ He gave the little boy a quick glance, turned back to Libby and asked bluntly, ‘How did you get those bruises?’

  She thought of lying, then told herself not to be stupid. ‘My husband hit me.’

  ‘Has he done that often?’

  ‘No, but …’ She hesitated.

  ‘But?’ he prompted.

  ‘But he’s been abusive in other ways, verbally and in restricting my life. I’m never going back to him.’

  ‘Do you want my help getting a divorce? Or is it too soon to think of that?’

  ‘Not too soon at all. Please make a start. I should have left him years ago.’

  ‘We’ll need another meeting to discuss the details of the divorce.’

  ‘Yes, please. I shall want custody of my son and I think it’d be fair for me to get a share of the family property, don’t you? I won’t be greedy.’

  ‘Of course. That’s all straightforward enough. I can set things in motion and tell your husband formally that you’re divorcing him. I’ll ask him to stay away from you and, if necessary, we can take out an injunction to make sure he does so.’ He indicated her bruises. ‘Photos of those will make it pretty obvious why it’s essential, if he objects.’

  ‘He’ll find a way round it. Steven can be very tenacious when it comes to getting his own way. The trouble is, if you write to him formally, he’ll know where I am. Could we wait a little to start things off, do you think, till I’ve got settled in here?’

  ‘Very well. But there are other things that need doing straight away. Have you seen a doctor about your injuries?’

  ‘No.’ She explained about Mary and the photographs.

  ‘Good thing to do, but we need more than that.’

  ‘Why? Mary’s prepared to act as a witness.’

  ‘Men like your husband can … upset witnesses. We need to be very careful how we gather evidence if you’re to keep custody of your son.’

  The mere thought of handing Ned over to his father made her feel physically sick.

  ‘Joss mentioned the domestic violence unit to you, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, but … well, that seems rather extreme, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s what they’re there for. Let him take you to see them. You really can’t afford to miss a trick.’

  She felt humiliated by the mere thought of facing strangers with her injuries when she was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Steven had beaten her, but she wasn’t stupid. ‘I suppose I’d better see them. I’ll do anything to stop Steven getting custody of my son. He hit Ned as well as me, you know.’

  ‘Yes. Joss told me. It’s despicable to hit a little child. Would you mind showing me?’

  She called her son over and ignored his outraged squirming to pull down his trousers and show the bruises on his thigh and buttock.

  ‘I have a grandson of a similar age. If anyone hurt him like that, I’d not be responsible for my actions.’ Mr Greaves’ expression was grim as he added, ‘Joss has offered to take you to the unit after you leave here. He used to work there, so he can help you through the various procedures. I’d go with you myself, but I have another appointment.’

  She sighed. ‘I have so much else to do today. Couldn’t we go tomorrow?’

  ‘Sorry, but it’s rather important that you do this immediately.’

  ‘I couldn’t ask Joss to do that. I hardly know him.’

  Mr Greaves lowered his voice. ‘Let him help you. That’ll help him, too. He misses his job still. He was injured and took early retirement.’

  ‘Yes, he told me.’

  ‘There’s just one other thing we need to attend to today. Do you have formal proof of your identity? You look very like your mother as a young woman, so I don’t doubt who you are, but this has to be done properly. A passport would be best.’

  ‘Do I really look so much like my mother?’

  ‘Yes. I was madly in love with her at one time, but she never even looked at me.’ He smiled reminiscently.

  ‘I don’t have access to my passport. I do have one, because we went on holiday to Ibiza last year, but Steven keeps it in his safe at work.’ Libby fumbled in her bag. It took her a couple of goes to find her driving licence in the general chaos. She’d stuffed things into the bag willy-nilly yesterday.

  ‘We’ll get the passport back for you later.’ Mr Greaves took the driving licence from her, made a note of its number and handed it back. ‘I’ve authorised Joss to withdraw some money for you and help you open a bank account. You should apply for a debit card while you’re at it. Money will be paid into the account every month for your keep, and if you have any other problems like needin
g a new battery, the trust will pay extra for that.’

  Relief washed through her in a great tidal wave. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We’re doing what Rose asked. She knew exactly how she wanted to manage this.’

  ‘I wish I’d seen her again.’

  ‘At least she left you a letter.’ He picked up a large, bulky envelope. ‘She asked that you read it when you’re on your own.’

  Libby fingered the letter, which had only her first name on it. She remembered that handwriting, jagged strokes, leaning to the right and always black ink. She wanted to hold it to her cheek, because it was as near as she could get to cuddling her grandmother again.

  Mr Greaves waited till she looked up. ‘Rose loved receiving your Christmas letters. She was thinking about contacting you directly when she fell ill. She was ill for several months, went downhill very rapidly and didn’t want you to see her like that. Cancer can be a cruel way to go.’

  ‘I could have helped her if I’d known.’

  ‘You were still with your husband and, as far as we could tell, were making no attempt to leave him.’

  ‘I was afraid they’d take Ned away from me, and I thought I could cope, because Steven worked very long hours so I didn’t have to spend a lot of time with him. But when he hit me, I reached my absolute limit.’

  He nodded, then glanced quickly at his wristwatch. ‘I’m afraid I have to see my next client shortly. You’ll be all right with Joss. You can trust him with anything.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Thank you for seeing me so quickly. Come along, Ned. Say goodbye to Mr Greaves.’

  The two of them walked back to Reception, but Joss wasn’t there, and she immediately felt nervous. Steven had had time to follow them now and he did know the lawyer’s address. But there was nothing she could do. She didn’t even have a car that worked.

  She took Ned to the toilet then sat down to wait, annoyed with herself for being such a wimp. Once all this was sorted out, she mustn’t become dependent on anyone else.

  Not even a kind neighbour like Joss.

  Emily Mattison walked round the front area of the old pub on the edge of the moors. When she’d inherited the Drover’s Hope the previous year, it had been in a tumbledown condition, but she and her partner Chad had decided to convert it into an antiques centre.