‘Daddy’s here,’ Rosie told her tearfully.
‘I’m sure he is,’ Kathleen whispered. ‘He always will be.’
‘No! Don’t tell me lies!’ Rosie cried out. ‘My daddy is never coming back!’ Her cutting grief turned to anger. ‘He’s not, is he, Auntie Kathleen?’ She could hardly see for the tears rolling down her face. ‘Daddy’s gone and I will never see him again … Not ever, as long as I live!’
She clung to Kathleen, her heart breaking.
Then suddenly she was pushing Kathleen away and fleeing across the garden. She fled over the long bare flowerbeds, then out to the far side of the garden with Barney tight on her heels.
She did not know where she was headed. She did not care. All she could hear was her daddy’s voice calling her name … her daddy laughing with her when she was a small girl, squealing with excitement when he pushed her high into the air on her new swing. In her heart and soul, in every fibre of her being, she could hear his gentle voice full of his love and his great pride in her.
Kathleen was following her, shouting and pleading, ‘Come back, Rosie … Please, stop!’ But Rosie ran on. She had to get far away. She had to escape from the truth of what she had been told. Her father was dead! Those short words ran round and round in her frantic mind. Her daddy was gone for ever … gone for ever … gone for ever!
Behind her she could hear Kathleen yelling for her to stop so they could talk about it. But she was not about to stop, not about to talk. Not about to ever go home again because it could never be home from now on. Not without her daddy there.
She ran blindly on, tripping and sliding in a desperate effort to run away from the awful truth. Running faster and faster, just to get away. To get away and never come back!
Katheen could hear Barney barking. He sounded a long way away, yet she continued after them, calling to Rosie, ‘Come back!’ She could see Rosie with Barney at her heels, but they were far ahead. They had crested a little hill and were now gaining speed as they went. They entered the spinney and the last she saw of them was when they ran in amongst the trees, before being lost to sight.
Kathleen, determined to catch up, scrambled up the slope after them. She paused briefly to catch her breath, then ran on into the spinney, dodging amongst the trees, then on to some rough hilly ground with boulders amongst the clumps of grass. The path sloped steeply up and she was almost at the top when she stumbled on the uneven surface and slipped down, rolling out of control. Moments later, bruised and torn, she was brought to a shuddering halt when she caught her foot in a dead tree stump. The fall was bad, and in the desperate struggle to free herself, her shoe was torn off and sent tumbling further down the rough slope. She tried to stand, reaching for the shoe, and completely lost her balance, crashing all the way to the bottom of the path, where she lay breathless and in great pain.
She could see the deep grazes where the skin had been scraped off her legs as she fell.
She began yelling, ‘Rosie! I’m hurt, Rosie!’ When she realised that both Rosie and Barney were long gone, she decided the best thing to do now was to go back and get help.
And to that end, she began the painful journey home, going slowly so as not to lose her footing again. But every inch was agony.
After a while she stopped to rest and to assess the damage. The grazes to her legs were now covered in dirt and bracken, and when she attempted to wipe the worst off, the pain was excrutiating, so she abandoned that task, and gathered all her remaining strength to get home, though every inch she limped felt like a mile, and every step like a punishment.
After what seemed an age, she was greatly relieved to be on more even ground. ‘Come on, Kathleen, girl, just a little further. You can make it.’ Her spirits were stronger, but as she hobbled on, the effort and the continuing pain became too much to bear. She was too exhausted even to cry out. Too battered to care. Too weary to press on.
But with Rosie uppermost in her mind, she knew she had to. She told herself that however much pain she herself was suffering now, and however desperate and abandoned she felt, it was as nothing compared to what Rosie must be going through, alone and frightened, unable to come to terms with her grief. Her future looked bleak, and even those who loved her dearly could never fill John Tanner’s big, capable shoes.
Kathleen shed a few sorry tears. ‘Help her, Lord,’ she prayed. ‘Bring her away from the woman who despises her own daughter. Bring her home to the ones who love her, and with your help we might even fill a part of the gap that John Tanner has left behind.’
Thinking of Rosie, a deeply sad and lonely child out there somewhere, alone and broken, gave Kathleen a burst of strength, making her press on with fierce determination.
She called out, but it seemed no one heard her cries. With the pain worsening at every step, she found it difficult to go any further and she had to take a rest and catch her breath.
After a few minutes, she hesitantly pressed on, holding onto whatever she could find to help her along, while continuing to call out, ‘Patrick! Harry!’ But help was not forthcoming.
She was now in sight of the house but, too exhausted to go on, she fell to the ground. Yet she continued to call as best she could, though her cries grew weaker and weaker.
It seemed there was no one in that quiet backwater to hear her.
And then she was silent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IN THE KITCHEN, Harry remarked on the length of time that Rosie and Kathleen had been in the sun-room. ‘I want to go down there and check that they’re all right, but I’m not really sure whether it’s right to disturb them just yet.’
‘Hmm.’ Patrick was thinking the very same. ‘I agree, they do seem to have been in there for some time.’
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he was surprised at just how long Kathleen and Rosie had been talking together. ‘Give them another five minutes or so, then we’ll take a sneaky look, just to check they’re all right.’ He made a sorry face. ‘Young Rosie must be in pieces. Mind you, Harry boy, if anyone can help her through it, your mother will, although whatever anyone says or does to help her through this crisis, it won’t change the outcome, will it? Life for Rosie will never be the same. I know what she must be feeling, because it took me years to get over the loss of my father … your granddad Jack. You were just a small boy, but you were a great help to me just being there when I needed to hold you, and oh, but could you chatter.’
Harry listened while Patrick talked emotionally about the loss of his own father. ‘Later, when you asked after your granddad, I simply told you he’d gone away to Heaven, where all the good angels go. And you were happy enough with that. Then, sometime after that day – you may or may not remember – I helped you to write a little note telling your granddad not to worry because some day we’d go to Heaven and give him a cuddle, and we would all be together again.’
Having delved into the treasured memories, he discreetly wiped away a tear. ‘So there you are, son. You and your mother got me through that terrible time, just as Kathleen is doing her best to help young Rosie deal with the loss of her daddy.’
Harry could not forget her lonely glance as she went away with his stepmother.
‘Dad?’
‘Yes, Harry?’
‘Do you honestly think Rosie will be able to deal with it?’
‘I think so, given time, and with the family behind her. After all, son, what alternative does she have anyway? But Rosie is made of strong stuff – just like her daddy. She’ll come through it, don’t fret, although it may take her many months, if not years, to actually come to terms with it.’
The loss of his own father, and then his first wife, had knocked him sideways and he still felt the pain of bereavement, mostly at night before he closed his eyes to sleep.
‘I feel for that girl,’ Patrick murmured. ‘I know only too well what she’ll be going through right now. And, like I say, she’s only young!’
‘So, what can we do, Dad?’ Harry was out of his d
epth. ‘Like you say, she’s not grown up or experienced enough to deal with this kind of grief. How can we help her to get through it?’
Patrick smiled. ‘Well, we can be there for her. We can watch over her, and if she needs to talk, we can listen – it always helps to talk – that’s what will help her. Right now I expect that’s exactly what Kathleen is doing: allowing her to talk and helping to guide her through the pain. I’m afraid, in these circumstances, that’s all anyone can do.’
He took a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush of words. ‘At some time or another, son, we all get cruel knocks from Lady Fate. But life marches on and somehow we manage to deal with its trials and keep going forward. It’s a wicked world, son,’ he tutted angrily.
Harry simply nodded.
‘Dad?’ he asked anxiously then.
‘Yes, son?’
‘I really need to know if Rosie and Mother are all right.’
‘So do I, son, so do I.’
‘Would it hurt if I went and took a little peek at them now? I promise I’ll be careful not to be seen.’
Patrick took a moment to mull over the suggestion. ‘No, I think, on reflection, it’s not the right thing to do. We shall just have to be patient. Your mother will know we’re anxious. She’ll be calling us any minute. So let’s wait here a while longer. They know where we are.’
Reluctantly, Harry had to agree. ‘All right, but they seem to have been in there for ages. If someone doesn’t come soon, I’m sorry, Dad, but I think one of us ought to check on them.’
Patick nodded. ‘All right, son, let’s give it another ten minutes or so. Then we’ll see. Meantime, I’ll make another pot of tea. What do you say?’
Harry nodded. ‘If you like … thanks, Dad.’ He was not a tea-drinker, but pottering about would keep his dad’s mind off what was happening on the other side of the house.
As his father went to put the kettle on, Harry thought he heard a scratching sound. ‘What was that?’ He looked across to his father. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘No … I didn’t hear anything.’ He took a second or two to listen, before shaking his head. ‘I expect you’re on edge, son … but that’s understandable.’
Having made the tea, Patrick stirred sugar in and handed one of the mugs to Harry. ‘There you go, son. Get that down you. It’ll calm your nerves. Your grandma swears by— What was that?’ He looked towards the back door. ‘Hey, you’re right, son. I could swear I just heard something. A kind of scratching.’
The noise started again, more pronounced now, and they recognised Barney’s unmistakable excited bark. Then he was whimpering … scratching madly at the back door.
‘Jeeze! What the hell’s going on?’ said Patrick.
He made for the door, but Harry was there first. He threw open the door and Barney bounded in, running between their legs, then back outside and then in again, and Harry was amazed to see the state of him.
‘He’s soaking wet! And look, there are bits of mud and stuff between his toes.’
Patrick was puzzled. ‘But he was in the sun-room with the girls,’ he said. ‘He was, wasn’t he?’ Now he was not so sure.
Harry was also puzzled. ‘He was, yes, and I don’t think he would have left Rosie’s side … never in a million years.’
‘Well, maybe he needed to spend a penny. It happens to the best of us. Look, Harry, you hang back here a minute. Keep Barney with you, and I’ll sneak along the garden to check on the girls. I can peek through the side window and they won’t even know I’m there. I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it before.’ Grabbing Barney by the collar, he gave him over to Harry. ‘Keep a tight hold on him, son.’
Barney, however, had other ideas, because as Patrick went out, the dog broke away from Harry and went bounding out the door again. Then he stood facing them, barking madly, legs astride, and poised to run again.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Harry asked. ‘I’ve never seen him like this before.’
Just then, Barney ran off to the edge of the garden, where he turned round and ran back again, barking and continuing to run in circles. Patrick and Harry were totally confused as to what was wrong with him, although Harry suggested to his father, ‘Maybe he saw Rosie upset and he misbehaved, like now, so Mum put him outside.’
Before Patrick could comment, Barney turned tail and ran a little way across the garden. Then he ran back again, stabbing at Harry’s foot with his paw, and then he was off again, running back across the garden until he stopped and stood still, facing the two of them, while making a whining sound from the back of his throat.
‘Why is he behaving like that?’ Harry shook his head in disbelief.
Before Patrick could reply, Harry took off to the sun-room. ‘Something’s wrong, Dad, I know it,’ he said over his shoulder.
A moment or so later, he was yelling for his father. ‘Quick, Dad! You’d best come and see. They’ve gone … Rosie and Mum … they’re not here.’
While Patrick made his way to see, Harry was trying to calm Barney, who was growing more excited by the minute.
‘Look, Dad!’ Harry gestured to the empty sun-room, and the partly open door, which was flapping in the light breeze. ‘The door is left open and they’ve both gone.’ He was panic-stricken.
Barney was continuing to bark loudly, while clawing at Harry’s leg with his big, fleshy paw.
‘Where are they, boy?’ Harry held him still. ‘Come on, Barney … show us! Take us to where they are!’ Barney shot off at the run, with both Patrick and Harry right behind. Across the garden they went, over the pathway and out where the ground became rougher at the edge of the spinney.
Patrick saw his wife first, lying crumpled on the ground. ‘Aw, dear God, it’s Katheen. Kathleen!’ Both Harry and Patrick ran as though their lives depended on it, Barney bounding along in front, still barking, but in a much saner manner, knowing that help was at hand.
By the time Patrick and Harry got to her, Barney was licking Kathleen’s face as though trying to wake her. Pain and sheer exhaustion had got the better of her, and she felt nothing; she heard nothing.
‘Kathleen, love, talk to me!’ Folding to his knees, Patrick took her into his arms. ‘It’s me – Patrick. Talk to me, Kathleen. Talk to me.’ He gently patted her face. ‘Kathleen, look at me!’
When she slowly opened her eyes, Patrick took a huge breath in relief. ‘Thank God! Where are you hurt, my darling? What happened?’ His questions rang out one after the other, but most importantly, he had her in his arms. He could see she was exhausted and in a poorly state, muddied and with streaks of blood over her legs where her skin had been torn.
But she was safe, thank God. ‘I’ve got you now, love. We’ll get you home, don’t worry.’ Patrick murmured a prayer of thanks.
Taking off his jacket, he wrapped it about her, and when she reached up to him, he gently and slowly helped her to her feet, while sliding his arm about her waist and taking as much weight off her as possible. ‘Are you all right? Have you broken anything?’ He needed urgent answers. ‘And what about Rosie? Where is she?’
‘I’m all right, really. But she’s gone, Patrick,’ Kathleen told him tearfully. ‘She ran off and I couldn’t keep up. Find her, Patrick, please. Find Rosie!’
While Harry and Barney ran off towards the spinney, looking for Rosie and calling her name, Kathleen assured Patrick over and over, ‘I’m fine. I’m just exhausted, and I cut my legs when I fell, but I’m fairly sure there’s nothing broken. I’ll be all right, I promise.’
Then she was crying; broken from her ordeal, and fretting for Rosie to be brought back safely. Now Patrick was with her, she knew she was safe but she feared for Rosie.
‘She was brokenhearted, Patrick. I’m so afraid for her. She just ran and ran, and she wouldn’t come back. She’s gone, Patrick.’ Her voice broke and, putting her hands over her face, she told him, ‘It was my fault. I should have been more gentle. I told her as lovingly as I could, but she was shocked, Patrick … th
at lovely girl was shocked to her roots and she ran out … ran away. She’s gone, Patrick. I couldn’t find her … I couldn’t keep up … she was too fast. She didn’t want to be found.’
Patrick was afraid for his wife. ‘Ssh, you’ll make yourself ill. And just look at the state of you. We’ll find Rosie, don’t you worry about that. For now, though, I have to get you home.’
‘But I can’t go home.’ Kathleen was adamant. ‘Not without Rosie. She’s traumatised, Patrick. Who knows what she might do? We have to find her. You go after her, my darling. I got this far, and I’m sure I can make my own way home. Please, leave me. Just go now!’
‘Harry’s already gone ahead to search for Rosie,’ Patrick assured her. ‘Look, sweetheart, I’ll get you home and safe, then I’ll come back and help Harry in the search. Surely she can’t be too far away. She might be watching us even now.’
‘No! If she knew I was hurt, she would have come back to help me. Where is she, Patrick? Dear Lord, where is she?’
‘I’m sure she’s all right,’ Patrick soothed her. ‘Rosie is a strong young girl.’
But Kathleen was still desperately concerned. ‘You didn’t see how she was after I told her,’ she said softly. ‘Oh, Patrick, do you really think she’s safe?’
‘I do, yes.’ In truth, he was every bit as concerned as Kathleen, but he was not about to fuel her fears. ‘Shall I tell you what I really think?’ he asked her.
‘Yes.’
‘I think she’s hiding from us. I believe she needs to be alone for a while. And I also know that I need to get you home … right now.’
Just then, Harry returned. ‘Dad’s right, Mum. I’ve been through the spinney and halfway to the top and there is still no sign of Rosie. Let Dad take you home while I go back and carry on looking for Rosie. Dad can come and help me to find her once he’s settled you.’ He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. ‘You’re hurt. Please, Mum! Just do as Dad says, eh?’
Lonely Girl Page 15
