Heartbreak and Happiness

by Rosie Harris

But she would have known that Rebecca would be very worried when she didn’t turn up, so surely she would have told her the truth and warned her not to expect her?

  It didn’t make sense. They’d shared so many secrets in the past that Cindy knew she could be trusted and that she wouldn’t say anything to her family.

  She looked at her watch. Had it stopped? No, it was simply that time was dragging. She’d wait until twelve o’clock and then she would ring Jake and find out if he had told his mother about Cindy and what she’d had to say. If he hadn’t, then it would jog his memory and he’d have a chance to do so when they stopped for their midday meal.

  When finally she phoned Jake, the news wasn’t good. Cindy wasn’t back home and no one had any idea where she was.

  ‘Mum and Dad are very worried,’ Jake told her. ‘I wish I had said nothing, but I knew you were right and they ought to know what is happening. What’s even more worrying is that the married man she was rumoured to be seeing is also missing from his home.’

  ‘Really!’ Rebecca felt stunned. ‘Who is he?’

  There was a long silence then Jake said, ‘It’s only a rumour, so I’ll say no more.’

  ‘You can’t leave me with half a tale,’ Rebecca said sharply. ‘Come on, Jake, tell me his name. Is it someone I know?’

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Jake said, evading the issue. ‘Look, Becky, don’t worry. I promise I’ll phone you if Cindy turns up or if there is any fresh news about her. Take care. Bye.’

  Before she had a chance to say anything more the line went dead.

  Rebecca thought of ringing him back, but she wasn’t sure he would answer. He so obviously didn’t want to go into more details.

  ‘Cindy could have let me know what she was planning to do, instead of leaving me to worry about her like this,’ Rebecca muttered aloud resentfully.

  As she opened up her books again, she found herself wondering which of the village men Cindy could possibly have gone away with, but was at a complete loss. Most of the married men in Shelston were rather staid and middle-aged and were either paunchy or going bald. There were no dashing young husbands.

  Unable to make any sense of the situation, she pushed the matter from her mind and tried once more to concentrate on studying.

  She’d go home next weekend, she told herself, and find out how her grandmother was – and meet this new assistant who was helping out in the shop and see if he was as dishy as her mother said he was.

  The following Friday, although she studied until almost midnight, Rebecca still hadn’t managed to catch up with all she had set herself to do. Nevertheless, next morning she was up in time to catch an early train home.

  She hadn’t told her mother in advance that she was coming home, because she hadn’t been sure what train she would be on and didn’t want to raise her hopes in case she couldn’t make it.

  She had phoned her a couple of times during the week to see if there was any fresh news about her grandmother, only to be told that she was still holding her own and her dad was still at her bedside.

  She checked with her mother if there was any more news about Cindy, but apart from lots of gossip which her mother refused to pass on there was none.

  No one had seen her or heard from her, and both her parents were very worried.

  It was mid-morning by the time Rebecca reached Shelston. As she stepped down from the bus that had brought her from the railway station, the very first person she met was Lizzie Smith.

  ‘Well, well, whoever would have thought of seeing you here, Rebecca Peterson,’ she commented. ‘Not looking for your friend Cindy Mason, are you? You won’t find her here. Her mother’s so worried about her she won’t show her face in the village, either. And that man’s poor wife! Well, I don’t need to tell you how she is feeling, do I?’ she cackled maliciously. ‘Much too near to home for you not to know now, ain’t it!’

  ‘I’m afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, Mrs Smith,’ Rebecca told her frostily as she made to walk past.

  ‘Not in such a hurry, young lady,’ Lizzie said as she grabbed Rebecca’s arm. ‘You won’t find her at home, so it’s no use you trudging up to the Masons’ farm. Your friend Cindy Mason has gone off with her fancy man and you know well enough who he is! Old enough to be her dad,’ she leered. ‘That’s the sort of little hussy your precious friend has become. She don’t mind breaking up families, not even yours.’

  Rebecca stared at the wrinkled old woman in disbelief. Was she simply making all this up? Or was there a grain of truth in what she was saying?

  Lizzie seemed to know about most things that went on in Shelston, and although very few people liked her they usually listened to what she said because they were well aware that not very much missed her shrewd eyes or her ever-listening ears.

  ‘You’d better hurry yourself home, Rebecca Peterson,’ Lizzie went on. ‘Be in time to comfort your mother and meet that young fancy man she’s moved in with her. Didn’t take her long to fill your dad’s shoes, now did it!’

  As Lizzie’s words sank in and she realized what she was implying, tears of anger blurred Rebecca’s vision. Too distressed to answer the old woman, she turned on her heel and began walking away.

  ‘Going to share him with her, the same as your friend Cindy Mason shares your dad?’ Lizzie called after her.

  Rebecca felt sick as she hurried past their butcher’s shop and made her way up the side road to seek solace at Woodside.

  She couldn’t bring herself to go into the shop. At this moment she didn’t want to talk to her mother and she certainly didn’t want to meet Nick Blakemore.

  She fumbled in her purse for her door key, all she wanted was the seclusion of her own bedroom and a chance to sort out all the malicious things Lizzie Smith had said and try to make sense of them.

  The thoughts tumbling round in her head were so ugly that they shocked her. They simply couldn’t be true. She certainly didn’t want them to be. It was too bizarre to even think they might be.

  She went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of instant coffee, and took it up to her bedroom.

  She curled up in the armchair and tried to reason things out and to recall what her mother had said when they last spoke on the phone.

  With a sense of relief she remembered that her dad was staying at her granny’s bedside.

  Of course, that was the answer. That was where he was. Lizzie Smith wouldn’t know about Granny Peterson being ill, and because her dad and Cindy were missing at the same time she had linked their names together in her evil mind.

  But why had she thought such a thing in the first place? The rumours about Cindy and a married man had been circulating for quite some time.

  Rebecca thought hard about it, trying to reason it all out and remembering that her mother had touched on the subject when she’d been talking about her dad disposing of the pigs.

  She felt pretty sure it was because Cindy had been coming up to Woodside every night to help with the pigs and take Moses for a walk that all this gossip had started.

  As for her mum’s fancy man, it had been her dad who had arranged for Nick Blakemore to come and help out at the shop!

  Old Lizzie had implied that Nick Blakemore was living with her mother. Well, maybe he was. If he came from a distance, it made sense since there was plenty of room at Woodside. She had been worrying about nothing.

  Although she still didn’t know where Cindy was, she was sure there was no connection between Cindy being missing and her own father’s absence.

  Feeling calmer, she finished her coffee and decided she would go to the shop and let her mother know she was home.

  Maybe by now her mother had spoken to Mavis Mason and there was some fresh news about Cindy. And at the same time she could meet Nick Blakemore.

  With a feeling of relief, she smiled at her own reflection in the mirror as she combed her hair and touched up her lipstick. What an idiot she had been to take any notice of Lizzie Smith and get so upset by her silly gos
sip!

  Fifteen

  Rebecca paused for a moment on the doorstep of their butcher’s shop. Her dad was always very particular about keeping everything spotlessly clean, and even today it looked as though it had been scrubbed from top to bottom and everything from the outside of the window to the top of the marble counter had been cleaned to a very high standard.

  Her mother, wearing a crisp long white-cotton overall over her dark dress, was standing by the door of the small office built into a corner at the end of the long counter that ran the full width of the shop. She was holding a ledger in one hand and talking to a tall young man in his mid-twenties. He was wearing a long white overall-coat over striped cotton trousers and had a cream straw boater on his head.

  For a moment Rebecca wondered who he was, and looked back over her shoulder to see if there was a delivery van parked anywhere. Then she realized that he must be the temporary assistant.

  So this was Nick Blakemore, the young man that Lizzie had described as her mother’s ‘fancy man’. She pushed open the door and walked into the shop.

  Her mother looked up as the shop bell jangled and for a moment stared at her blankly.

  ‘Rebecca! You never said you were coming home this weekend. What a wonderful surprise!’ she exclaimed as she came rushing forward, her arms held out to greet her daughter.

  ‘Nick,’ she called to the young man who was still standing in the doorway of the office, ‘come and meet my daughter Rebecca.’

  He came over to where they were standing, holding out his hand in greeting, and Rebecca found herself looking into a pair of vivid blue eyes set wide apart in a very handsome face that had a firm chin, straight nose and engaging smile, revealing even white teeth.

  ‘Rebecca, I’m so pleased to meet you,’ he said as they shook hands. ‘I’ve heard a great deal about you.’

  His handshake was firm and warm, and the look he directed at her was so welcoming that Rebecca found herself responding despite her intention to be aloof and on her guard against his charm.

  ‘Mum told me that Dad had arranged for you to come and help out while he was away,’ she murmured. ‘I hope you like it here.’

  ‘It’s my first experience of retail work, but your mother is an excellent teacher,’ he said, smiling at Sandra as he spoke.

  Rebecca noted a spot of colour burn high on her mother’s cheeks. Immediately she recalled Lizzie’s implication and steeled herself to resist being taken in by Nick Blakemore’s charm and smooth tongue.

  ‘Village life is also new to me,’ Nick Blakemore went on. ‘So very different from living in a busy town.’

  ‘We like it here,’ Rebecca said defensively. ‘It’s wonderful for walking and there’s quite a lot to see and plenty going on.’

  ‘Really?’ His eyebrows went up. ‘Perhaps you can find time to show me some of these places.’

  ‘I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m only here for the weekend,’ Rebecca replied brusquely.

  ‘We’re not terribly busy on a Saturday afternoon, so why don’t you take Nick on a guided tour of the village and the local beauty spots?’ her mother suggested.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you and I went to see Granny Peterson?’ Rebecca said quickly.

  ‘We can do that tomorrow. No, you take Nick on a guided tour this afternoon.’ She smiled at the young man. ‘It’s almost lunchtime. Can you hold the fort while I go and have a snack with Rebecca and catch up on family news? Then I’ll come back and take over so you two can go out together.’

  ‘That sounds like a splendid idea,’ Nick agreed enthusiastically.

  Sandra discarded her overall and took down the short grey jacket that was hanging on a peg in the office and put it on. ‘Come on then, Rebecca,’ she said as she picked up her handbag. ‘Let’s go.’

  They said very little on the short walk home, but as soon as they were indoors Rebecca said crossly, ‘Why did you do that, Mum?’

  ‘Do what?’ Her mother looked bemused.

  ‘Suggest I show Nick Blakemore around. There’s enough gossip about him in the village as it is.’

  ‘Gossip?’ Sandra looked taken aback. ‘What do you mean? Who’ve you been talking to?’

  ‘Old Lizzie Smith stopped me as I came off the bus and regaled me with some vicious gossip about Dad and also about you.’

  ‘Really! What did she say?’

  Rebecca hesitated, biting down on her lower lip and wondering if she ought to tell her mother what Lizzie had said or whether it would be better to keep quiet and say nothing.

  ‘Come on, tell me,’ Sandra said impatiently as she took a plate of sliced ham out of the fridge and began making up sandwiches for both of them.

  ‘She said Dad had gone off with Cindy.’

  ‘What!’ Sandra stopped buttering the bread she’d taken out and stared at Rebecca in disbelief.

  ‘She also said you had moved a young fancy man in and were going to share him with me.’

  Sandra’s eyes were blazing with anger as she stared at her daughter. ‘I hope you didn’t take any notice of what that stupid old crone said. If this was a hundred years ago, that vicious old woman would be put in the stocks for maligning people and the rest of us would be throwing rotten eggs at her.’

  ‘So there’s no truth in any of it then,’ Rebecca said, her voice registering relief.

  ‘No, of course there isn’t, but it’s hard to convince people,’ Sandra said wearily. ‘Even Mavis thought that perhaps there was something going on between your dad and Cindy because she came up here every night to help him with those damn pigs.’

  ‘They’re all gone now?’ Rebecca questioned.

  ‘Yes and you have no idea how pleased I am about that. I never want to see another pig here ever again.’

  ‘Moses as well?’

  ‘I’m sorry about your Moses, but he had grown so big and become so dangerous it was a relief to see the back of him, I can tell you.’

  ‘Oh, Mum! You’re exaggerating!’ Rebecca laughed.

  ‘No, I mean it. He had started biting and I was scared stiff that he would attack someone and we’d have a court case on our hands.’

  ‘Really? He was always so friendly.’

  ‘Even your dad was frightened of him at times,’ her mother went on. ‘He could bite very hard and he caught him once or twice.’

  ‘Well, he’s gone now,’ Rebecca said resignedly.

  ‘Yes, so let’s forget all about the pigs and get on with living. You take Nick for a walk this afternoon and show him what there is to see around Shelston, then we’ll go and see Granny Peterson tomorrow.’

  Rebecca found herself enjoying her afternoon walk with Nick Blakemore. After telling him the history of each and every one of the shops and pubs, as well as the people who ran them, she took him to see the duck pond and the ruins of what had once been a thriving factory.

  ‘It started out in the 1800s as an iron foundry and has housed a number of businesses since then. It ended up as a milk factory, but about five years ago they moved to larger premises in a nearby town and since then the building has fallen into ruins.’

  She also showed him the local beauty spots, and around the Norman church and its well-kept graveyard with its weather-worn headstones.

  Finally, she took him home through the woods that adjoined their house.

  ‘These woods border our garden,’ she told him. ‘It’s one of my favourite spots. I loved to come here with Cindy after school.’

  ‘I’ve been for a walk here before,’ he said, looking round as they began strolling along a footpath that wound its way in and out of the trees. ‘I had no idea it was close to Woodside, although I suppose I should have worked that out from the name of your house.’

  Rebecca smiled but said nothing.

  ‘There are some very old trees here,’ Nick observed as he paused to look at some of the giant oaks and then at a very tall fir that was higher still.

  ‘Have you seen the one that is hollowed out?’ Rebecca
asked. ‘We used to hide in it when we played here, or else pretend that it was our house and sit inside it and eat our picnic. A bit of a squash for two of us, but it was good fun – especially when someone walked by and didn’t see us. We also used to use it as our very own private post office and leave messages for each other hidden in it.’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen that one.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

  Rebecca walked ahead, pushing back the brambles that were growing out over the footpath in places. ‘Here it is,’ she said, stopping in front of a giant gnarled tree trunk hollowed out almost like a cave. ‘Isn’t it terrific?’

  ‘I’ll say and it’s big enough to get right inside, just as you said.’

  As he spoke, Nick went nearer to the old tree and poked his head into the dark hollow.

  ‘Someone’s been using it as a changing room,’ he grinned as he straightened up.

  ‘As a changing room? What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s a bundle of clothes and some rubber boots in there. Come and look.’

  Nick moved back to give Rebecca room to peer inside the tree trunk. When she did so, she let out a gasp and the colour drained from her face.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Those are Cindy’s clothes and her boots,’ she said in a tight voice. ‘Oh, no, they can’t be! What does it mean?’

  Nick looked puzzled. ‘You said you used to climb in and picnic. It looks as though your friend has left some of her clothes in there—’

  ‘But when did she leave them there? She’s been missing for more than a week.’

  ‘Missing?’

  Rebecca took a deep breath and then, in a rather stilted manner, outlined how Cindy had been planning to spend the previous weekend with her in Cardiff but hadn’t turned up.

  Nick let out a long, low whistle. ‘You mean none of you have heard from her since and you don’t know where she’s gone?’

  Rebecca nodded. ‘The village is full of gossip about it.’

  She thought of adding ‘And they are linking her disappearance with the fact that my dad is not here either’, but felt it was more prudent not to mention this in case it gave Nick Blakemore the wrong idea.