‘What shall I do, Isaac?’ he asked. ‘If I don’t get the kids now it might be too late. On the other hand, Alice can’t look after them whilst she’s in hospital.’
Isaac hummed and ahhed. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what’s best, Joe, lad. For our Alice, I mean.’
‘Isaac Stanford, you know damned well what’s best for our Alice. The sooner those evacuees are back in Cottenly, the sooner she’ll be well again.’
‘But look what they did to her before? Put her in the lunatic asylum, they did.’
Joe flinched. ‘No, Isaac.’ He considered carefully whether to tell the couple where the blame really lay. ‘The children being taken away wasn’t the reason for Alice’s breakdown. That was just the final straw. Alice’s illness had been on its way for years. Since she was a little girl, actually.’
Isaac’s mouth dropped open. Joe continued, ‘It were the years at Grandmother Stanford’s. Alice was terrified during her time there. All the horror has finally been released. Can you imagine all the Bible bashing continuing night and day? While all the time her sisters were enjoying a normal life. Can you imagine the atmosphere?’
‘Aye, I lived there. It never did me any harm.’ Isaac faltered.
Joe continued, ‘Did you spend most of your time with the picture of a dead man in a coffin on the wall? That alone was enough to turn a child’s mind.’
‘Well, no. My father wasn’t dead when I lived at home. But she never said. Why didn’t she tell us? About her fear, I mean.’
‘Because she was a dutiful, obedient child. She thought it was what you wanted.’
‘Well, we did, but not to make her unhappy. Why, tha should know that, Joe. We loved our Alice – we loved all our lasses.’
‘Aye, she knew that, and she loved you. So she did as she was instructed, without any protest, unfortunately.’
‘But Ma promised her everything, all the money, the lot. I thought it was a good thing, would set her up for life.’
‘Oh aye, she got the money all right, but lost her peace of mind and almost her sanity in the bargain.’
‘Oh, Joe lad, why didn’t she say? To think it’s me who’s caused all this upset to my lass. And to thee and our Joseph.’ Isaac put his head in his hands. ‘Oh, Joe lad, I’m so sorry.’
Emily knelt in front of Isaac and gathered him in his arms. ‘Nay, Isaac, it wasn’t just you. It was me too. We didn’t know but that it wasn’t for our Alice’s best interests – we were both as guilty.’
Joe stood uncomfortable at the sadness he had caused. ‘It was nobody’s fault. You were both the most loving of parents. Nobody could possibly have foreseen the outcome. Most kids would have been hardy enough to bluster their way through.’ He grinned. ‘No doubt your Ruth would have got the better of the old girl. But Alice – well, Alice would have been more sensitive.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Anyway, what do you suggest we do now?’
Emily threw back her shoulders and drew herself tall. ‘Fetch the pair back, Joe. Now, before they themselves are victims of this awful war. We can’t leave them there, right in the thick of it all.’
‘That’s easier said than done, Emily. I have to work. I can’t be responsible for two youngsters during the day, and with Alice to visit as well.’
‘Fetch them home, and bring them here. We’ll keep them until Alice is well again. God knows, if it’s a way to relieve our consciences then it’ll do us both good. What do you say, Isaac?’
Isaac relaxed a little. ‘Aye. Oh, aye. It’ll be a pleasure to ’ave ’em, a real pleasure.’ He even managed a smile, and Joe grinned. It was what he had hoped for.
‘Well, then, I’d best get off. I’ve a journey to plan and our Joseph to organise.’
‘Send him up here, we’ll look after him,’ Isaac suggested eagerly.
‘Who, our Joseph? Nay, he’ll be up at the farm before I’ve got me bag packed. Taking the flaming tractor to bits or summat. Though I think your Ruth has enough on with her lot.’
‘Our Ruth’s like the other two, never happier than when she’s a family around her.’
‘But you can have enough of a good thing, surely?’
‘Not the Stanford lasses,’ Isaac said proudly. ‘They take after their mother.’ And he was right. Emily couldn’t wait to get the spare room ready for Brian and Jennifer.
Olive could hardly contain her excitement. Not only was Harry home on leave, but Tom Baraclough was due home too. And to complete her happiness her dad was home for good. Uncle Joe had arranged a job for George. Sadly the doctors had decided his left arm would remain almost useless, but Joe said there was a desk job vacant and George was to be interviewed the following Monday. Olive hoped his shattered nerves would hold out – he still had bouts when he could hardly control the sweats and tremors. The sight of Harry, smart in his air force blue, always put new life into Isaac, and Lizzie seemed to have shed the careworn look she had had when George first came home. So all in all Olive was a happy and even more beautiful young woman.
Tom was to arrive early evening so Olive had taken her best dress to work and a new pair of high-heeled shoes. The dress had used up eleven of her precious clothing coupons but she didn’t care. She changed after her shift and set off for the station, looking for all the world like a film star with her flushed face and new hairstyle.
It was this glamorous vision that Hubert Hancock caught sight of as he left the works to go home. It was only when he realised she was the daughter of one of the Stanford lasses that the smile on his fat face changed to a scowl. By, but she was a looker if ever there was one, almost more so than Ruth Wray, if that was possible. He removed a cigar from its carton and prepared to light it in an effort to control his excitement. Then he found his matchbox was empty. What the devil was he doing with matches anyway? He threw the box into the road and cursed Sophie for the umpteenth time for the absence of his lighter. Well, she needn’t think she had won that battle. He would go now and purchase a new one. After all, he was a man of importance, a manager and a councillor. He adjusted his short, fat erection, brought on by the sight of Olive Crossman.
Olive and Tom walked from the station still entwined in each other’s arms. They wanted to be alone and Olive had prepared the cottage for Tom’s homecoming. Of course, they would have to wait until Tom’s parents had greeted their son. ‘I’ll see you later, then,’ Olive told him as they reached the end of Tom’s street, reluctant to leave him after so short a reunion.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ Tom grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him along the street. ‘I’m only here for a week; you’re not escaping that easily. You’re coming with me to meet the family.’
Olive thought it was a mistake. ‘They’ll want you to themselves for a bit,’ she said.
‘Then they’ll just have to want.’ He grinned. ‘The girl I’m going to marry comes first from now on.’
Olive stopped in her tracks. She loved Tom, she wanted to be with him all the time, but if this was a proposal it was a bit premature, she thought. ‘Tom,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t let’s rush things. We’ve both got a job to do. I wasn’t going to tell you but I’ve applied to be a nurse at the Royal. Let’s just enjoy being together, and I mean together, at the cottage. Please don’t say anything to your parents yet. There are so many things happening and everything’s so uncertain.’
Tom’s face had paled and she could sense his disappointment as his body tensed. ‘But I thought you loved me, Olive. If I were wrong, I apologise. I should have known someone like you wouldn’t be serious about somebody like me.’ His voice trailed off and Olive wanted to gather him into her arms, right there in the street.
‘Tom, you’ve got it wrong. I love you, I want to be with you the whole time, but we can’t. You’ll be going away again in a few days. And I’ll be starting my training for a whole new life. That’s going to be a hell of a shock for the family, without a wedding announcement on top of it. Let’s wait, Tom, please, until we can be together properly, all the time.’
/> Tom saw the pleading in her large, almond-shaped eyes. He saw her lips tremble and pulled her into his arms. Then the atmosphere changed and he laughed. ‘You’re a witch, do you know that? And I don’t mean with your herbs and cures and God knows what else you concoct. I mean a real witch, who can bewitch a man just by looking at him. OK, we’ll wait, but I’m warning you, I won’t stay at the cottage, not at night anyway. I respect you too much. You’re too precious to have your reputation ruined.’
‘OK.’ Olive grinned.
But they both reckoned without the witchcraft the cottage was capable of, and the sexual attraction of a couple in love.
George was trembling and his face was deathly white when he returned from his interview. He had known almost immediately that his job application had been unsuccessful. Hubert Hancock had not even turned him down gently, simply told him he couldn’t be expected to set on every lame dog that limped home from the war.
George, still not recovered from his injuries, had felt an urge to smash his good fist into the fat, pug face. Managing to resist the impulse he had simply pointed out that all the lame dogs had been fighting for the likes of Hubert Hancock. Then the shock had set in. If he couldn’t get a job what would Lizzie and the children do? Oh, God. If only Joe hadn’t gone to London. Surely he would have stood up for him? Surely Joe’s recommendation would have been enough? But Joe wasn’t here.
After George left the office Hubert leaned back comfortably in his chair, put his feet up on the desk and lit a cigar. He had vowed revenge on the Stanford lasses, and the payback had begun, and by God he hadn’t finished yet, not by a mile.
Both Tom and Harry were unwilling to discuss anything to do with the war and George wondered if Harry would have spoken much at all had it not been for Jimmy and Ernest Edward wanting to know all the gory details, such as how many dead Germans had Harry seen and had he seen a Blenheim bomber and how fast could they fly. Harry seemed so preoccupied with his thoughts that George wondered to what horrors his son would be returning at the end of his leave. He prayed Harry would be spared the terror George had already experienced.
Tom, on the other hand, wanted nothing to mar the time he had with Olive. Despite his reluctance to stay the night, once he found himself at the cottage with Olive it was impossible to tear himself away and it was early morning before they locked up each time and went their separate ways. Fortunately Tom’s concern for his lover meant he was sensible enough to take precautions and make sure Olive didn’t become pregnant. This was a relief to Olive, who intended throwing herself wholeheartedly into her nurse’s training. But first she had to tell her parents and give up her present job. However, until Tom Baraclough left she was determined nothing was going to spoil their time together. Olive had a feeling it would be a long time before she saw her wonderful man again.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth Dolan, adorned in an Irish lace christening gown worn by her father and grandmother before her, was baptised at Cottenly chapel on a crisp, bright autumn day. Alice and Lizzie were her doting godmothers. Though Alice was still pale and slimmer than she had ever been, the protective cage she had built round herself so many years ago had vanished, leaving a softer, still beautiful woman, one capable, at last, of giving and receiving affection, without the fear of its being withdrawn. She was wearing a smart two-piece in a soft shade of powder blue, instead of the black she had favoured for so long. She smiled serenely down on the sleeping child and glanced at Joseph, a son to be proud of who had proved his love for her during her illness. She smiled at her mother and her father and vowed to tell them how much she cared for them, something she had never said to either of them even though nobody could possibly have had more loving parents. Then she thought of Joe with a rush of emotion she would until recently have been incapable of.
Where was Joe? He had promised to be here in time. It wasn’t like him not to keep his word.
Alice handed her baby niece into the preacher’s arms and Elizabeth began to cry, drowning the sound of the chapel door opening and closing gently. She felt a hand tuck itself into hers and looked down into a freckled, smiling face. Alice’s heart missed a beat and she looked round wildly for Joe, wondering if the madness was returning, but Joe was smiling and nodding reassuringly. By his side stood Brian, grinning like the Cheshire cat in Wonderland.
The preacher was oblivious of the miracle taking place at the font. The miracle of Alice and Joe’s family coming home.
Hubert Hancock knew about Olive’s cottage. He had stalked her like a cat after its prey. He had watched her remove the key from its hiding place and let herself in on most nights. He didn’t know what she did in there but he knew what he’d like to do to her. In fact it was becoming an obsession, transferred from the unobtainable Ruth Wray to the delectable young girl. He knew the soldier had gone and was planning carefully how to achieve his goal. He knew where she went each night and the time she arrived at the cottage before going home. All he had to do now was await his opportunity.
‘What’s up with our Billy?’ Jack asked. ‘He’s quiet lately.’
‘Love’s young dream,’ Ruth answered. ‘Joan Sanderson.’
‘Oh, that’s all reight then. I thought it was something wrong.’
Billy was quiet, and it was true, he was pretty serious about Joan. But that wasn’t the reason for his silence. The truth was he was wondering what his mother would say about the fact that he intended to join the army. He didn’t need to go, in fact Jack would say he couldn’t be spared, but Billy knew the land girls were every bit as competent as himself. Besides, Frankie was proving to be a boon to Jack. It wasn’t that he wanted to go, and if the truth were told he didn’t know if he could bring himself to kill a man, even if he was a German. He just couldn’t hide away on the farm whilst Harry and other Cottenly lads were away fighting his war. Besides, Joseph said he was going, even though Uncle Joe said he was in a reserved occupation and didn’t have to. Joseph had made his decision and was just waiting. There was time yet before Billy was of the age to go, but go he would, even though it would break his heart to leave the farm and everybody in it. In the meantime he had Joan to think about. He was meeting her tonight and if he was lucky he might get a feel inside her blouse. He didn’t expect more; Joan was a good girl and he intended keeping her that way.
The key turned in the lock and he replaced it in its hiding place, went in and closed the door. It was pitch black with the blinds still closed from last night. He felt the excitement mounting as he knew she would just about be leaving the first-aid class. The herbs hung pungent in the air and another scent, musky and sweet, disturbed his senses. He waited, poised to take her when she came through the door, from behind so that she couldn’t see his face. On the off chance of her recognising him he would threaten her with dismissal. Anyway, no one would believe her. They wouldn’t dare. Hubert Hancock was too important in the town and even the ones who didn’t work under him themselves had somebody close who did.
Olive wondered why the key didn’t turn. She must have forgotten to lock up last night. She must be more careful in future; Grandma Burlington’s things were too precious to lose. She closed the door and picked up a box of matches to light the gas. The arm came round her body, fingers clasping her breast. Olive screamed, loud enough to waken the dead in Cottenly churchyard, before a palm stifled the sound. She bit as hard as she could, knocking her teeth against a ring. He tore his hand away and fumbled with her dress, lifting her skirt, his fat, podgy fingers feeling her bare thighs above her stockings, then ascending to the soft mound between her legs. She knew he was unbuttoning his trousers and made a sudden, violent attempt to escape, grabbing the door latch and yanking it open, screaming the whole time. Thank God, somebody was coming.
‘Olive, is that you?’ Billy heard footsteps slithering on the earth but he was too concerned about Olive to give chase. Followed by Joan, he sprinted across the garden towards the cottage. Olive was trying to strike a match but her hands were trembli
ng so violently the contents of the box spilled out on to the floor.
‘What’s up, Olive?’ Billy couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to his precious cousin. ‘What happened?’
‘Did – did you see him?’ Olive stammered.
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know. Oh, he was horrible. He tried to rape me.’
‘Oh, no.’ Joan held Olive in her arms while Billy turned on the gas. ‘Did he … did he …’ Joan couldn’t voice her question.
‘No. Oh, no.’ Olive started to cry uncontrollably. ‘He touched me, though. Oh, Billy, he was awful, repulsive. He smelt of cigar smoke and he was fat.’
‘Did you see him?’ Billy led Olive to the couch. Joan looked round and filled the kettle, placing it on the gas ring.
‘No, he was waiting for me. He grabbed me from behind. Oh, Billy, it makes me sick just thinking about it.’
‘I’m going for the police. Stay with Olive, love.’
‘OK. I’ll make some tea,’ Joan said.
‘I’ve only camomile or peppermint.’
‘It doesn’t matter, if that’s what you like.’
Olive sipped at the hot camomile. It seemed to soothe her and she gradually stopped shaking. Joan pulled a face at the taste, but drank it all the same.
‘Who would want to do such a thing?’ Olive cried.
‘Anybody, I should think. I mean, any man would fancy you, Olive. All the lads remark on how gorgeous you are.’ Joan tried to lighten the mood and cheer Olive up a bit.
‘But he wasn’t a lad, I’m sure he wasn’t. He was old. And who do we know who wears a ring?’
That was a question the constable was to ask himself. Cigars? Rings? Not many men in Cottenly. Well, that should narrow down the search. Without any evidence, though, there wasn’t much could be done, and as far as he could see there was none, except the key and the door sneck. If any fingerprints could be detected, they might just possibly find their man.
The Stanford Lasses Page 29
