‘I heard a sound, a sort of gasp.’ Ann seemed not to hear Edward’s anxious interruption, ‘Alec he . . . he was not at my side, I was about to call his name when I saw he was held by a taller figure, a man with one arm across Alec’s throat, the other hand holding a club over his head.’
Ann looked down at her fingers twisting in her lap as she recounted the whole experience, finishing with, ‘The other figure, the man who . . . who shot Alec’s attacker, he said it was not money being demanded but the precious possession I had taken from St Petersburg. But I had taken nothing except the framed photograph of my mother and I can’t possibly see anyone thinking of that as precious apart from myself.’
‘It be strange and no mistake and though I don’t be a lover o’ violence I thanks God that second man acted as he did; frightening as it must ’ave been for the pair o’ you, at least it meant you bein’ safe.’
‘I prayed so.’ Ann did not look up. ‘I kept Alec as close as I could but when we were ordered off the ferry . . . the night was so black and the waves of the sea so whipped by the wind they tossed the rowing boat like a cork.’
‘Rowing boat.’ Leah’s brows drew together. ‘Y’means to say that ferry weren’t in no dock when you was put off and that in the dead o’ night? Whoever were responsible for that should ought to be locked up!’
‘People were being pushed to the rail, I could hear voices calling, possibly women separated from children, men anxious to locate their families, but the seamen shoving them into the boats paid no heed. Then I was seized. I grabbed at Alec but somehow we were separated; it was just as the sailors in the boat took up the oars that I saw him, he was half over the side of the ship but then someone made a grab for him, tried to haul him back aboard; I thought the tussle would see him being dropped into the sea but the sailor holding him threw the other figure aside and Alec was beside me and the rowing boat moved off. Then above the crash of waves I heard a shout; words broken apart by the wind: “We will find . . . take what you carry . . . both die and any who help them.” ’
Leah shook her head in incredulity. ‘Lord wench, what in the name of heaven could it be thought you carried?’
‘It was enough to have one man commit murder and another threaten to do the same. It was that threat had me so afraid for Maija and her sons.’
Maija . . . sons? Leah met Edward’s eyes, and she indicated that she also knew nothing of those people. A slight shake of her head silently advised him not to ask but sit and listen.
‘Maija found us next morning wet through and almost frozen with cold . . .’
The only other sound in the small room was that of the clock ticking above the fireplace. Ann continued speaking softly as though to herself, the tension of her body telling clearly the fears she had lived with, but it was Edward Langley Leah watched, the concern on those strong features, anger which had the fine mouth thin to an almost invisible line, the hands bunch to fists clenched so fiercely the knuckles strained white against the tan of his skin when hearing of the German sailor’s intended rape. Though her sympathies were with the girl she had given a home to, her heart went out to Edward: he had suffered heartbreak in his life and would suffer it again should Ann Spencer choose to go along of Alec to search for his relatives. Given her feeling for the lad it was certain she wouldn’t let him go alone.
‘I thought we would live with my grandmother,’ Ann went on, ‘but she had died a few weeks after my leaving for Russia. There was not much left of the money Aarno had given us and as I was unable to find employment I knew the little we had would not last long. That was why I was so grateful for being allowed to rent Chapel House, but even then . . .’ She looked up from staring into her lap, the strain of the past stark in her eyes. ‘Careful as I tried to be when buying food it . . . it became necessary for us to relinquish that tenancy.’
And it be my belief I don’t be needin’ of two guesses as to why. My mind says the kind of rent Thomas Thorpe were set on collectin’ were refused and it be that reason had you put on the street.
To speak her thoughts would serve only to incense Edward Langley still further; Leah kept them to herself saying simply, ‘All o’ that be past and done, you and the lad be safe thank the Lord.’
Safe! Ann rose, taking the cup and plate Edward had used into the scullery. Then why the stab of fear whenever the words of the gypsy woman returned to haunt her in the still of the night: ‘Kalo RAI searches for another, the dark Lord of Death waits in the shadows.’
Chapter 31
‘You have my heartfelt sympathy.’
Thomas Thorpe smiled as his hands smoothed the long black gown. ‘If there is anything I can do you need only to ask.’
Red-rimmed eyes swollen with weeping had looked up at him, a crumpled scrap of cloth was pressed to quivering lips.
‘It be ’ard for her to say anythin’ just now Mr Thorpe, but y’can be sure her’ll thank you later.’
He had knelt in front of the weeping woman taking both of her hands in his. Secretly revelling in the caring picture he made before the assembled group of sympathetic neighbours he had crossed himself, piously murmuring as if for the ears only of the bereaved woman but careful his words were just loud enough to reach the rest.
‘Greater love has no man than he lay down his life for another.’
He had squeezed her hands gently.
‘Your son has given his life for the good of many, your comfort is in knowing the sacrifice was seen by the Lord who will reward it in heaven.’
He should have been wearing this when visiting that house. Watching the reflection in the mirror he touched the white dog collar. It would have made such an impression, the women there would have gazed in admiration.
‘It be terrible painful Mr Thorpe, terrible painful for a woman come to know the losin’ of a child.’
Reaching for the white fringed stole laid carefully across his bed Thorpe’s smile deepened at the words murmured by Ada Clews as he had risen to his feet.
A pain that woman would know for herself. He draped the stole about his shoulders, placing the fringes in elegant lines. Yes, Ada Clews would soon know the pain of losing a child. The life of Mary Carter’s son had been given for his country, he would be spoken of as a hero; and Ada Clews’ daughter? Hands together in the attitude of prayer Thorpe watched himself smiling back from the mirror. Hers had been given for a more important reason, the saving of the good name of Thomas Thorpe.
‘But your sacrifice my dear,’ he laughed full-throatedly, ‘your death will not be remembered as that of a heroine. You will be remembered for the whore you were.’
Leah removed her shawl and hung it on a peg set into the scullery door. Then she took a cloth from the line of string stretched from wall to wall and began drying ladles and pans Ann was washing.
‘It be a sad business,’ she said, ‘poor Mary Carter be beside ’erself, young Luke were the apple of ’er eye.’
‘I would have liked to call on her but I feel maybe that would not have been the best thing to do with having known the family for such a short time.’
‘Mary’ll understand, wench.’ Leah placed dried ladles on a wooden tray. ‘If y’be agreein’ then we could stand together outside of the chapel come Sunday; Mary and ’er family will see and appreciate that when they attends the service Thomas Thorpe be holdin’ in remembrance of their lad, they’ll know we be showin’ respect.’
Thorpe. Ann shuddered. How could she be there, how could she look at the man who had almost raped her?
‘Won’t be no need of waitin’ ’til the service be over.’ Leah had seen the tremor ripple through the slender figure but knew that breaking off abruptly would disclose the fact and maybe cause Ann embarrassment, so she went on. ‘Ain’t like there be any coffin to be carried along of the cemetery, like so many more folk robbed of their loved ones by this war, Mary Carter won’t never know where it be ’er son lies.’
Like you not knowing where Joshua and Daniel are buried, wanting in you
r heart to believe a service was held for them, yet fearing deep down the continuous onslaught of battle would have made that virtually impossible.
Ann kept her thoughts to herself.
‘Do Alec be back yet?’
Thankful Leah had changed the subject Ann placed the last scrubbed utensil on the draining board. ‘No.’ She draped the wrung-out dish cloth over the edge of the shallow stone sink. ‘Probably got to talking with Mr Langley and forgot the time.’
‘He likes Edward, the two of them gets on well together.’ The drying finished, Leah returned the damp cloth to the line then as Ann was about to carry the bowl of dishwater to the drain in the yard said, ‘Edward an’ me talked some time since wi’ regard to Hill Rise an’ this place being brought together as one. I’d thought of it often after Joshua an’ Daniel were killed and then with Deborah . . .’
For a moment it seemed Leah would say nothing more, but with a quick indrawn breath she went on.
‘. . . well with my own children gone and Edward being like a son—’
‘I understand,’ Ann cut in quickly, ‘I will speak with Alec as soon as he returns.’
‘P’raps you does then again p’raps you don’t understand, but I don’t be goin’ to discuss that over a bowl of dirty water, so you finish up in ’ere an’ I’ll go brew a pot of tea.’
It was obvious. Empty bowl in hand, Ann stared across the yard to the open field. Leah was ready to join her holding to Hill Rise but while Edward Langley loved and respected her as he would his own mother, he could not be expected to accept Alec and herself.
‘Like I was a sayin’,’ Leah poured tea as Ann entered the living room. ‘Edward an’ me talked some time back about his place an’ mine becomin’ one – wait!’
She held up a hand silencing Ann’s intervention. ‘You hear me out afore you go sayin’ any more. I put it to Edward it be sens-ible but he refused; said right out as he wouldn’t tek this place, weren’t no surprise to me nor were the next thing he said, that bein’ the dairy an’ all that be along of it should go to you.’
‘Me!’ Ann was aghast. ‘But that is impossible.’
‘Ain’t naught impossible about it.’
Ann stared at the flat contradiction. This house, the dairy, it was all of Leah’s life, it held her every memory. Resolve settled firm. Her answer must be no – yet it must be given gently.
‘Edward . . .’ she began tentatively. ‘You have known him from birth, you have said yourself he is more son than friend, I . . .’ She paused, wanting to find words which would express her feelings while not sounding ungrateful. ‘I can only be a friend, a friend who values that relationship far too much ever to take advantage of it. Perhaps Mr Langley does not quite understand or he would never have made such a suggestion.’
Edward Langley understands a lot more than we oftime give him credit for. But then so did Leah Marshall. It were his thinking that to give the dairy to Ann Spencer would be to keep her here in Wednesbury.
‘Edward do be like a son,’ Leah agreed as she refilled the cups, ‘and like a son he be entitled to mek his own choice, if that be to refuse to join his place to mine then so be it, but,’ she glanced over the cup with a tender smile, ‘like I would to a daughter I says to you think careful wench, not just of today but all the days lyin’ ahead.’
‘I have thought,’ Ann answered quietly, ‘I’ve thought many times but always with the same answer. Once this war is ended Alec will begin to search for his relatives and I shall stay with him until he does.’
Why had Edward Langley said she and not himself should be given Leah’s property? Emptying the teapot on to the heap of sleck, coal dust and fine chippings with which the living room fire was banked every night to keep it slumbering until morning, Ann heard the questions in her mind. Was it meant as some kind of test? Did he think her friendship with Leah had some ulterior motive? That she had deliberately worried her way into that woman’s affection in order to steal her home and business?
Her gaze wandered beyond the yard, resentment rising swift and hot as it panned across the pasture to rest on the figure striding across the adjoining field.
‘Mother were gone to the Carter house, they had word today of their Luke being killed in action, Mother wanted to say her sym-pathy; I feels sorry for the Carters, o’ course I do, but it meant I could slip away without her being any the wiser.’
His cassock hung in the wardrobe his mother had spent half her life polishing, collar and stole were folded carefully and placed in the matching chest. Thomas Thorpe’s smile was one of pure satisfaction.
The girl had been waiting in the place he had specified. Waiting for him to take her on to Darlaston to speak with a minister. Fool, he laughed aloud, fool to think a man of Thomas Thorpe’s standing would marry a common working-class woman.
‘Nobody don’t know where I be going; I done exactly like you said, I kept our secret.’
He had forced himself to smile, to take her hands, to say her trust made him happy. They had walked a little way as she gabbled on about the surprise her parents would have on learning their girl was to marry Thomas Thorpe, while he carefully watched that no other person was to be seen. They had drawn level with St Peter’s Church, the old building almost entirely surrounded by open heath. He had drawn her into the lee of its high walls holding her close, not, as she giggled, to snatch a kiss and a few moments of cuddle, but to give him the opportunity to further scan the heath. There had been no one. Releasing her, he had adopted a look of regret as he said he had not as yet a ring to place on her finger but for just a little while perhaps this other small gift would serve to mark his love.
She had cried her delight as he took the necklace from his pocket, happily lifting her hair so he could fasten it about her neck.
He had fastened it well and truly, pulling it so hard the pretty bauble had bitten into the flesh of her throat. How long had he held it, twisting its length like a garrotte, how long until she had stopped struggling? He had held her upright, his body supporting the weight slumped against it, waited those few vital seconds with the cord tight about her throat, then he loosed it, stepping away as the limp figure slid to the ground. But he could not leave right away; first he must make sure she was dead. He had touched the hollow at the base of her throat and then had come the thought. It must seem she had been brought here against her will, that she had been the victim of rape. Minutes later he was gone, leaving her clothing half torn away, her legs spread wide apart.
He had felt no sense of urgency, no pressure to hurry from the scene. The body would be found but nothing would link him to the killing. How could it! He smiled. He was heaven-protected, that had been proved over and again with Deborah Marshall, then with the man thrown into the Devil’s Pool; and again today when it had led him to find that trinket. He would have passed without seeing it but at that moment the sun’s rays had glinted on the small glass beads, a necklace dropped by one of the gypsies who had camped on the patch of open ground. It had gleamed up at him and in that instant he had felt heaven’s smile, had known he was being provided with the means whereby to dispose of the problem that was Sarah Clews.
Back in the tiny living room of his cramped terraced home Thorpe’s eye lighted on the black leather valise lying open on the table. There had been no comeback from that quarter and there would be none from tonight’s activity.
He snapped the clasps of the bag shut and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the glow spreading through his body. The angels of the Almighty had been given guardianship of Thomas Thorpe, they would let no breath of suspicion touch him, not now nor when he dealt the same to Edward Langley and – he took a long deep breath of satisfaction – when he took what was owed by Ann Spencer.
‘Why did you tell Leah she should make me heir to her property?’ Ann’s fury lashed the shadows. ‘Was it your way of proving to her and to yourself that I am nothing more than a thief, that I pretend to feel for her in the hope of getting all she owns? Well sorry as I am to pr
ick your balloon, Mr Langley, you are once again entirely wrong in your assumptions. Leah knows and now I am telling you, there is nothing here I want other than the friendship of Leah Marshall, the memory of which will stay with me when I leave with Alec to search for his family.’
‘Now you hold on a minute!’ Edward grabbed at her as she turned away from him, making the teapot wobble precariously. ‘You might feel no more than friendship but Leah’s feeling runs deeper than that, she loves you as her own, as she would a daughter. It is for that reason I asked she take you as partner in the dairy; I thought with the home you had with your grandmother now gone you might make a permanent one with Leah, that it would keep her from the bitterness of losing someone she loves. But as you have made very clear, I am wrong. You go your way, Miss Spencer,’ he loosed his hold, ‘never mind the grief you leave behind.’
‘Be a bit late for you don’t it lad?’ Leah looked up from her sewing as Edward came into the living room, then catching the glint of anger in his eyes asked, ‘Be there summat amiss along of Hill Rise, summat wrong with the cows?’
‘No.’ Edward shook his head. ‘There’s nothing wrong at Hill Rise.’
‘The Lord be thanked for that.’ Leah laid aside the cheesecloth she was hemming. ‘So why is it you’ve called? Not that you don’t be welcome whatever the hour.’
‘I just wanted to be sure Alec was all right.’
At the entrance to the scullery Ann looked towards the man who minutes before had summarily brushed her aside. ‘Alec!’ she said quickly, ‘he went to Hill Rise, he . . . he’s supposed to be with you.’
‘So he was until a couple of hours ago. We sat talking for a while then I left him reading the evening paper while I went to make a last check on the cows. When I returned some twenty minutes or so later he was gone.’
‘You means the lad never wished you goodnight, that he just up and took hisself off? That don’t be like Alec.’
Edward saw the sudden leap of fear in Ann’s eyes; her hands holding the old brown teapot trembled convulsively. He could go to her, hold her, tell her everything was fine, that it was in every lad’s blood to dawdle on the way home, but that would incur another taste of her displeasure.
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