‘All right, but be quick, won’t you? Harry might need your help more than I do.’ In truth, Kathleen very much doubted whether she still had the strength even to walk up the stairs, never mind to run a bath.
Ten minutes later, Patrick made his way back downstairs. ‘All done. I’ve only half-filled the bath, and it’s lukewarm, the way you like it.’ He took Kathleen by the arm and escorted her upstairs to the bathroom.
‘I’m not sure I can laze in a bath when they’re still out there.’ She was growing more anxious by the minute.
‘Just let me help you then, and I’ll be away all the faster.’
He helped her into the bath, and then helped her to wash.
Sooner than he would have liked, she was asking, ‘Help me out now, Patrick.’ Though she ached from every pore, she wanted to be downstairs and waiting, while Patrick went to find the youngsters.
‘All right then, out you come … if you’re sure?’
‘I am, and stop chatting. You’re wasting time!’
‘And you stop your nagging, Mrs Riley, if you don’t mind!’ He wrapped a large, soft towel about her.
A few minutes later, donned in dressing gown and safe, flat slippers, Kathleen insisted on going downstairs, while Patrick prepared to go after Rosie and Harry.
‘I won’t rest until you’re back, all three of you, and Barney, too,’ Kathleen told him. ‘Oh, and remember to fill that little flask with water – you might need it.’ When he started to argue, she would not hear of it. ‘If you don’t take it, I shall just have to come with you, hurting or not!’
‘You’re a bossy boots, aren’t you, eh? I’m not going to the Antarctic; I’m just going to be climbing a few hills.’
‘Stop moaning, and take it with you!’ Kathleen insisted.
‘All right. But are you sure you wouldn’t like a lie-down on the bed? You look worn out.’ Patrick was worried about her.
‘I’m fine, Patrick. I’ll just stay here and watch for you and the young ones to come home.’
‘I need to think where it might be best to search. I’m hoping Harry will have found Rosie by now, and they could even be on their way back. I know Harry won’t have given up, so try not to worry too much.’ He went to collect his jacket from the hallway.
‘Patrick?’ While he struggled into his jacket, Kathleen was reflecting on something that, apart from John and Molly, only she and Patrick knew. ‘I never did tell you that I’m truly grateful you trusted me and let me in on Molly’s secret with regard to Rosie and how that lovely girl came about.’
‘Why Molly confided in me I will never know. Maybe it was because I found her crying in the barn, and she had to tell someone, and I was the only one there at the time.’
‘Maybe. But I believe she confided in you because she knew you to be a good man. For whatever reason, she trusted you with the secret you have kept for all these years. It’s obvious she never confides in me because I have no sympathy for her. She’s proven herself to be a mean and spiteful woman, who has never grown out of the resentment she felt when I was born and she was no longer the sole centre of attention, and there are times when I’m ashamed that she’s my sister.’
In the deepest realms of her heart, however, Kathleen actually felt a small inkling of sympathy for Molly, especially since Patrick had shared with his wife the secret with regard to young Rosie.
While he pulled his boots on, Patrick cast his mind back. ‘From what I understand, she had two good reasons to be afraid for her future. First, she was absolutely paranoid about the truth getting out, with people whispering and gossiping, pointing her out in the street and such.’
‘Yes, and they would have. A child created out of wedlock was always going to draw the gossips,’ Kathleen assured him.
‘And, of course, she was most anxious about not losing John and the farm, and all of that. She said John and the farm were her future, and she had nowhere else to go.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me at all. It’s probably why she married him in the first place.’
‘Well, I would not argue with that, but when I found her she was genuinely distressed and angry. She really was in a terrible state … almost suicidal. She was sobbing uncontrollably, so I put my arm about her and tried to soothe her, and then she blurted it out about the affair and everything. Then afterwards she begged me to keep her secret. And that’s what I did. Telling you was not really breaking that promise; you and I have always shared everything.’
‘So, in the end, she managed to keep her place at the farm, knowing that one day it might well be hers, lock, stock and barrel.’
‘That’s Molly for you!’ Patrick mentally assessed the current situation, with John gone for ever, and Molly counting her gains. ‘Now, unfortunately, with John gone to his Maker it looks like she’s got the lot.’ A quick glance at the clock and he began to panic. ‘Look, sweetheart, I’d best get off.’
‘Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?’ She opened her arms to him. ‘Do I get a kiss before you go then?’
‘You certainly do!’ He swiftly delivered one to her, along with an instruction, ‘Don’t you be doing too much while I’m gone.’
As he went to the door, she followed, albeit slowly because of her bruised and aching bones. ‘As you say, Patrick, Molly has at long last managed to get her claws into everything John worked hard for, and you can bet your life she’ll make absolutely certain that young Rosie sees nothing of her due inheritance. Although I know Rosie would rather have her daddy back than all the riches in the world.’ Her voice broke in a little sob. ‘God works in mysterious ways, and that’s a fact.’
‘You’re right, as always. While I’m gone you can think of a way to persuade Molly to come and stay here so we can keep Rosie safe.’
‘Don’t worry, one way or another, we shall have Rosie here with us, you mark my words. If Molly does refuse to let us have Rosie here for a time I might have to quietly remind her that we’ve kept her secret all this time, but I might just feel obliged to accidentally on purpose let it out of the bag.’
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t let you threaten Molly with that.’
‘Oh, and why not?’
‘Because she has no idea that I told you, and I would rather she didn’t know that I broke my promise to her.’
‘Oh, of course! I’m sorry … I wasn’t thinking. It’s just that now John is not here to protect Rosie, I’m honestly afraid to leave her in Molly’s charge. I have no doubt that she would harm her.’
‘Are you absolutely certain about that?’
‘Patrick, I’m surprised you need to even ask. Just think about it. All these years, Molly has had to keep her temper in check when John’s around. He was always there to protect Rosie, knowing that Molly had no love or motherly feelings for the child. Now there is no one who can keep a wary eye on Rosie except for you, me and Harry. So, whatever it takes to keep her safe, that’s what we’ll do.’
‘But if we have to use threats, then it has to be me who talks to her, and not you, do you agree?’ said Patrick.
‘Of course.’ Kathleen was content enough with that.
‘If we have no choice then so be it.’ Being a man of peace, Patrick now felt much easier.
‘Oh, Patrick … dear Lord above.’ Growing tearful, Kathleen slowly shook her head from side to side. ‘I still can’t believe it. Such a fine man … and far too young to die. It just beggars belief!’
Patrick felt the same, and said so. ‘And if it’s like some kind of nightmare for us, what is it doing to Rosie, eh? She must be in pieces. And that is why we have to keep her safe … whatever it takes!’
He gave a peculiar little snort. ‘Hmm, anyway, we all know what Molly wants to do! Here we are talking about her temporarily shutting up the house and coming here when we both know that the minute that good man is in the ground, she’ll be rubbing her hands and counting her good fortune.’
‘You could well be right. I worry for Rosie if that happens. Unle
ss, of course, Molly lets us keep her. Oh, Patrick, that would be so wonderful – Rosie living with us … growing up here!’
Becoming emotional, she had to stop before the tears flowed.
Patrick was eager to be off. ‘I won’t be long. You can lock up the house behind me and have a little lie-down. I’ll take my own key.’
‘Patrick, do you actually think I can sleep, knowing that those two young people are out there somewhere, and with Rosie so upset? If I didn’t feel so damned weak, I’d clip your ear!’
Patrick laughed. ‘I reckon you would, but just now, you’re not able to walk fast enough to catch me. So for once, just relax and do as you’re told.’
‘Seriously, though, Patrick, be careful. You’re not as young and fit as you once were. It’s heavy and bone-tiring work climbing those slopes. I mean, look what happened to me.’
‘Aye well, I’m a man and you’re a woman.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. Now stop nagging and let me get on.’ He gave her a little wink. ‘You did your bit and I’m proud of you. But for now, just leave it to me, and say a little prayer that the two young ’uns are safe.’
‘I will. And promise you’ll be careful.’
And to appease her yet again Patrick duly set her mind at rest. Increasingly anxious to be away, he bent to hug her. ‘Love you, sweetheart, even though you can be a right nag sometimes!’ Before she could give him the length of her tongue he was swiftly away, out the back door.
Smiling to herself, Kathleen hobbled to the window and watched as he strode quickly down the path, through the garden and on, towards the grassy slope that led to the steeper ground, which was far more difficult to cope with.
Patrick turned to wave, then he was gone from her sight.
Kathleen lingered a moment to think on that good man of hers. She had never loved anyone else, and never could. ‘Oh, Patrick! I do love you so,’ she murmured with a wistful tear in her voice. ‘Lord only knows what I would do without you.’
Just then she felt like the loneliest person in the whole world.
She hobbled back to her armchair, where she made herself comfortable. Fancy thinking I could ever lie down, with those three out there somewhere! I’ll not rest one single minute until they’re back, she thought, gazing longingly towards the window.
Within a matter of minutes she had nodded off, gently snoring, with her sore, blistered feet up on the stool.
Her man, meanwhile, was hurriedly trudging through rough terrain, calling out to Harry and Rosie, but so far there had been no response.
Undeterred, and ever hopeful, he climbed higher, over rocks and deep grooves where the soft ground sucked at his feet, impeding his progress, while the higher, hard and unyielding ground sent him tripping and tumbling in every direction.
Good grief, Kathleen girl! I’m surprised you didn’t come out of this more damaged than you actually were, he thought, smiling, but then you always were a tough little beggar. He recalled the time just four weeks after they’d met, when he confidently challenged her to a four-mile bike ride and, to his shame, she beat him like a good ’un.
After that humiliation, he never challenged her again, although every evening, after work, he would go on a long bike ride alone, just to strengthen his legs in case she ever felt like throwing down the gauntlet and allowing him a return match. But she never did, and he was glad of it.
Eventually, he sold the bike and bought a little Morris Minor, which took them all over the country.
Feeling nostalgic as he trudged along, he reflected that though he had been blessed with Harry, a fine young fellow any father would be proud to have as a son, it would have been another blessing to have a girl as well – a lovely, darling girl much like young Rosie …
He would never understand why Molly could not find it in her to love Rosie. After all, the child had done no harm to her and it wasn’t her fault that she was conceived out of wedlock. Molly should realise that.
He paused to take a breath and sipped gratefully from the bottle of water Kathleen had insisted he take. You were right as always, Katheen, love, he admitted. A drop of cold water and I’m ready to set off again.
Some way on, he began calling out for Harry, but there was no response. Disappointed, he trudged on, hoping he was following in his son’s footsteps.
Soon, coming to more even ground, he went forward at a quicker pace, continuing to call, ‘Harry! Rosie! Where are you?’
When there was no answer, Patrick stood still a moment and listened, but there was no sound from Harry or Rosie – nothing but the gentle breeze whistling through the trees.
Determined, he persevered. Taking a deep breath, he cupped his hands about his mouth and yelled out as loud as he could, ‘Harry, it’s me … your dad! If you can hear me, shout out so I can tell where you are!’
Yet again, there was nothing to raise his hopes, or help him choose which direction to follow.
Some time later, exhausted and worried, he straddled his legs across a fallen tree stump, allowing himself a short rest. He was somewhat surprised that he felt so weary, especially as he was fairly fit. It’s like the damned jungle round here, and there was I thinking all I had to do was climb up for some short distance, over a few high bumps and crevices, he thought.
Fixing his gaze onto the ground, his eyes followed the activity of the small creatures within the dips and hollows of the fallen tree. But when a small army of ants began to make their way towards his feet, he quickly jumped up, and hurried on. I can’t be doing with them little devils going up my trouser leg, he thought, shivering. That was enough to spur him on more quickly.
When he again yelled for Harry and Rosie, the echo went bouncing away over the hilltops. He felt hopeful that if his voice could carry like that, it would be only a matter of time before Harry and Rosie heard his frantic cries. The thought gave him impetus to carry on to a break in the woodland.
Which way should he go now? He looked at the alternatives. One way would take him higher … over the hills. The other way would go through the woods, over the softer, uneven ground. What to do? Dropping his troubled gaze to the ground, he looked for any sign of footprints in the well-trodden soil, but he could see only animal tracks and clumps of dead grasses.
He took a short breather, trying to make up his mind before he set off again.
The sweat was running down his face and neck. Letting his chin drop to his chest, he closed his eyes, wrapped his two arms about his knees, and took a long, invigorating breath. Another little drink of water, and he was almost ready to move on. Patrick Riley, admit it: you’re not set up for this kind of trekking, he told himself. Come on! There’s no time for wasting. You need to find Rosie and your son, so get up off yer backside, and shift yourself!
Leaning forward, he opened the palms of his hands and slowly wiped the sticky sweat from his face. He hung his head and, closing his eyes for a swift moment, he whispered to Kathleen, ‘Oh, wife of mine, I’ll admit it, because you can’t hear me. You’re a stronger woman than I took you for.’
He was absolutely done in and still had no idea where Harry and Rosie could be, or which direction he should take.
Again he contemplated the two paths, one leading through the woods and the other along the hilltops. So … which way to go?
Suddenly, in a renewed burst of strength, he was on his feet and shouting his son’s name at the top of his voice, so high and intrusive to the elements that the echoes bounced back from the hills all around.
‘Harry! It’s me … your dad! Where the devil are you?’
After waiting a minute or so and getting no response, he was growing increasingly worried. Surely they couldn’t have wandered so far that they’d got themselves lost. The thought of their actually being missing was an extra worry to him.
Although when he thought about it, even he was not altogether familiar with the landscape hereabouts. Once he got over the hills he knew there were pathways leading in
every direction. According to the old folks in the village, there were no maps of those meandering trails.
One or two of the very elderly folk in the village claimed to know who had laid these trails and why, but each one told a slightly different story. One would tell how loggers used to thin out the trees, and so created the pathways in order to haul the fallen trees back to the village. Others claimed that long ago a group of travellers took over the woods. They excavated deep caves in the hillsides and lived there with their families for many years before moving on. There were other legends, too, but none of these old stories was ever proven. Currently the villagers made good use of the woods and hills in walking their dogs and picking the wild flowers. Young folk took to camping out in the woods, and local teachers took classes of children up here to study nature at its best.
Looking about him, Patrick could see a fairly clean opening to the left of where he was standing, winding up the hill. ‘I wonder … that looks to be a likely option …’ He was thinking of Rosie running up to here, and going for the widest trail before her. He decided to go for that. If it turned out to be hard going, he could come back and try the other way.
A decision made, he went on with sore feet but a lighter heart. Also, because he sensed he was almost at the top of the trail, his hopes were higher as he took a moment to rest again.
Then, after a sip of water from the bottle, he was up on his feet once more, marching on and again calling out through cupped hands. Over and over he called out for Harry, so loudly and so fiercely that he was sure his lungs would burst.
Eventually he reached a place by the path where a rock made a natural seat. Before going on, he desperately needed a few minutes to sit and rest, and catch his breath. It had taken all his strength to reach this high spot, and he was done in. Every bone in his body was hurting. The back of his throat felt like sandpaper, and his feet were that sore, they felt as though he’d been locked in the stocks, with every woman in the village whipping a stick across his bare toes.
Grumbling and sighing, he peeled off his socks and tenderly rubbed the life back into his feet. He wiggled his toes for a minute or so, and when he felt more comfortable, he simply left his feet bare, while tenderly running his hands about his ankles and legs to keep the circulation going.
Lonely Girl Page 17
