‘What will you say?’ Ellen asked anxiously.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll only tell him what he needs to know.’
***
Jim Farrell listened in silence while his father lied. ‘Your mother and Amy have been set upon, on their way home from work this afternoon. A stranger has been seen around the village, perhaps it was him. Anyway, until they’ve both recovered, Ellen and Amy are going to stay with your uncle George and aunt Anwen in Wrexham.’
‘Have you told the police? You’re not going to let him get away with this, are you?’ Jim shouted angrily, outraged by his father’s passive nature. ‘We can’t just sit here. We must do something.’
‘Hush you,’ John chided, taking hold of his son’s arm. ‘Wait until they’ve gone. Say no more for now. I don’t want your mother any more upset than she is already.’
Although enraged, Jim held his peace for the time being and flung himself down in a chair, watching the goings-on in brooding silence.
John took fresh water up to Ellen and she bathed her wounds again. She looked in the mirror over her dressing table and was shocked to see how badly injured her face was. She prayed the damage to her eye was superficial. She put on her nightgown and climbed into bed, under the covers. Amy stirred, but didn’t wake. Clean clothes for the morning hung over the back of a chair by the bed, ready for an early getaway.
Downstairs, after his dinner, Jim sat at the table with a face like thunder. There was plenty of beef broth left over so John insisted they all have a second helping. Afterwards Jim helped Lillian clear away the bowls and John felt relieved to see his elder son smiling.
Suddenly, the quietness of the evening was shattered by someone banging on the kitchen door. ‘John! John! Are you there?’ It was Charlie Brock, one of Sir Edmund Deverell’s men. Charlie thumped the door again, causing it to creak on its hinges. John opened the door quickly and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.
‘Good gracious, Charlie, are the wild cats after you?’ John said cheerfully, hiding his fear.
‘That’s not as unlikely as you might think,’ Charlie said. ‘Laurence Deverell is missing. He went for a walk to Lower Shelton this afternoon to visit Reverend Scattergood and never returned. Sir Edmund sent a man to check with the rector, and it seems Laurence never arrived.’ Jim joined his father and Charlie outside. He leaned against the side of the porch and gave Charlie a quick nod.
Charlie nodded back and continued. ‘Sir Edmund and Mrs Deverell are in a right pickle, what with all these stories about wild cats in Delamere Forest. They’ve already started searching Lower Wood, but they won’t go too far in because of the traps we laid yesterday. Sir Edmund wants you, me and Leo to lead the search.’
Jim listened to the exchange between the two men. He watched his father’s reaction to the news and a frown creased Jim’s forehead. His father didn’t seem surprised by the news. It was as though he already knew. Jim didn’t understand what was going on but suspicions began to take form.
‘We won’t be able to see much now, it’s getting dark,’ Charlie muttered, waiting patiently, holding the bridle of his horse.
John was thinking along the same lines, as options whirled around in his head. He would have to draw maps marking where the traps were and, at dawn, groups of men could cover the allocated areas. Jolted, John heard Charlie speaking to Jim, asking after Ellen. ‘You’d better be getting back, Charlie,’ John said, before Jim could answer. He glared a silent warning to his son. Without a word Jim walked back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him. John turned back to Charlie. ‘Tell Sir Edmund I’ll be along shortly.’
‘See you back at Tapscott Manor then.’ Charlie touched his cap, mounted his pony and set off back the way he had come.
After John had satisfied his employer that nothing could be achieved until the next morning, Sir Edmund let him return home. John dozed downstairs in his chair until four o’clock in the morning. After visiting the privy in the yard outside, he went to the stable and fetched their mare round to the front of the cottage and harnessed her to the cart. Lillian laid straw down in a corner at the front of the cart and covered it with blankets to make a bed for Amy to rest on, and Jim brought out their bags. Amy arranged herself on the blankets as comfortably as she could. John helped Ellen up onto the front seat of the cart and Ellen placed her hand over his, squeezing it as she climbed in. Before she let go, John placed a handful of coins into her palm.
‘Here’s some money for your keep, love. We don’t want to put on your brother or take advantage of his kindness.’
Ellen raised her eyebrows in surprise at the amount, wondering how John had come by the money. ‘They won’t take it,’ she said.
‘Keep it then, in case you or Amy needs anything.’ John closed her palm over the money and Ellen accepted it gratefully. She took hold of the reins then called to Jim, Lillian and Harry.
‘You three be good for your Dad.’ She added kindly, ‘We’ll both be home again before you’ve missed us.’ Ellen flicked the reins and the cart trundled out of the yard.
Jim felt his eyes fill with tears, saddened by the way his mother had tried to hide her face from him. He couldn’t understand why his father was sending his mother and Amy away when it was obvious they needed help. Jim wiped his tears away quickly; crying wasn’t something a nineteen-year-old did. Besides, he had to be strong for Lillian and Harry.
With Harry standing beside her, Lillian watched the cart to the end of the lane, until it turned into the road heading for Woodbury and beyond. A worried frown crinkled her brow. She glanced at her Dad and Jim, wanting to ask them what had happened to Mum and Amy, but any questions were halted by the black looks on their faces. Harry insisted wild cats were to blame but Lillian didn’t think so.
John went into the cottage, silently praying for his wife and daughter’s safe journey, hoping they would get out of Woodbury without being seen. Ellen’s injuries would certainly demand questions, and what answer would she give? He shook his head and pushed yet another worry to the back of his mind. Scowling, John slung on his jacket and joined his children outside again. ‘Get your coat Jim; we’d better make a move. Sir Edmund will be waiting to get the search started.’ Turning to Lillian and Harry he said, ‘Stay in the house and keep out of trouble. We’ll be back as soon as we can.’
‘They’ll be all right, Dad. Lillian’s a sensible girl, she’ll look after little Harry.’ Jim attempted to ease his father’s worry.
‘I know,’ John answered sourly. He wasn’t worried about the little ones. He trusted Lillian; out of all of them she was the most sensible. Anyway, if the worst should happen they still had Jim. John stole a glance at his elder son. How long, he wondered, would it be before Jim put two and two together and realised Laurence’s disappearance and his mother and sister’s injuries were connected.
As if reading his mind, Jim said, ‘Maybe Laurence’s been attacked by the same man who hurt Mum and Amy, Dad.’ Fizzing with anger and frustration he added, ‘We’ll find the bastard, and when we do, by God I’ll bloody kill him.’
John didn’t answer. What could he say? He continued walking, head bent low into his jacket collar, so that Jim couldn’t see the tears on his face.
***
Daisy Hope’s skirt flapped against her legs and made a swishing sound around her ankles. Her new leather boots creaked with each stride as she hurried up the long drive to Tapscott Manor. Although determined in her quest, she faltered as she neared the imposing building. A wide rise of stone steps led up to an impressive carved oak door flanked on either side by white stone pillars. Each side and above, square Georgian windows defended the interior, giving occupants a shielded position from which to observe visitors. The majestic and intimidating entrance appeared to look down its nose at Daisy, causing her to reconsider approaching the main door. Instead she made her way to the rear of the building. Rounding a corner brought Daisy into a large square yard where the smell of fresh baking made her m
outh water, and she supposed the kitchen was situated nearby. On the opposite side of the yard a lower building ran to meet the main house, forming an L shape. A narrow opening in between the two walls was gated. Beyond the gate a path wormed its way through the meadows and disappeared into Oakham Wood.
Daisy stopped and gaped. The yard was filled with men, fifty at least, some of them quite young, tasty too, she thought. Her glance though was superficial. Only one man in particular interested Daisy and she searched the sea of faces for him. The men all wore rough working clothes and cloth caps, evidently farm labourers, not gentlemen ready for a hunt as was Daisy’s first impression. She spotted Sir Edmund Deverell in the crowd and Daisy thought he looked as work worn and weary as the other men. Noticing Jim Farrell in the crowd she waved him over to her. Beyond Jim, Daisy’s eyes alighted on the very person she’d come to see and she checked her bodice quickly, to make sure her ample cleavage was displayed.
‘What’s going on, Jim?’ Daisy asked, as Jim strode up to her.
‘Laurence Deverell didn’t return home last night and nobody’s seen him since yesterday afternoon. Dad’s organising a search of the wood. Thanks for volunteering by the way,’ Jim said, smiling. He knew Daisy from the Nags Head pub where she worked as a barmaid. He’d asked her out once but Daisy had said no. He’d found out later that Daisy had her sights set on a bigger fish.
Through the crowd Daisy saw Leo again and began waving excitedly. ‘He didn’t see me,’ she said, pouting. Jim shrugged, uninterested. Regaining her composure, Daisy attempted to be friendly and asked, ‘How’s Amy?’
‘Mum and Amy have gone to stay with my aunt Anwen for a while. Anwen had a baby a few months ago, and she’s not been in good health since. Uncle George is busy running his bakery, so he’s not much use at home.’ Jim told the story they’d agreed on in parrot fashion, and even to him it sounded false.
Daisy never noticed. Her brain was travelling along a different line. ‘Does that mean your Mum has given up her job here?’
Jim looked into Daisy’s wide questioning eyes and unknowingly fell victim to her manipulation. She blinked coyly up at him, dark blond lashes shadowing bright green eyes, her one redeeming feature in an otherwise bland face. Daisy radiated sexuality. She’d left her long hair loose and blonde strands framed her ample breasts. Jim appreciated why she had many admirers. He felt a pull in his groin and shamed by his lack of self-control answered hoarsely, ‘For the moment she has, yes.’ He looked away so Daisy wouldn’t read the lust in his eyes.
‘Well, let’s hope Laurence is found safe and well,’ Daisy said dismissively, and leaving Jim she walked off towards the kitchen door.
Jim watched Daisy disappear into the kitchen then walked over to his father, who had begun rounding up the men into groups. John Farrell, a tall quiet man in speech and manner, gave each leader a rough plan of the wood. The area each group was to cover was circled, the traps marked with a cross. Charlie Brock, a short barrel of a man with thick arms and legs, stood waiting, watching the goings-on.
‘Charlie, are you ready?’ John called, and reluctantly Charlie walked over to take one of the maps. Suddenly shushing murmurs filled the yard as Sir Edmund climbed up on to a wooden crate. A hush settled on the crowd.
‘Thank you all for volunteering to help find my son. Whoever finds Laurence will be well rewarded, I can promise you that, men. Any information regarding Laurence’s whereabouts or in connection with his disappearance will also be well rewarded.’ From the tone of his voice and red rimmed eyes it was apparent he’d taken a blow. His educated voice, normally rich and deep, sounded defeated. The men turned to leave and Sir Edmund stood by silently, willing them to succeed.
Jim Farrell supervised the first group; Charlie the second; Tom Barton the third and Leo the fourth. The last to leave was John.
Sir Edmund called out to him as he passed. ‘If anyone can find Laurence, you can John. Bring my boy back to me, please.’ He cleared his throat as his voice broke with emotion.
Saddened in the knowledge that he would never be able to do that, John touched his cloth cap in answer and trudged out of the gate with his men.
***
Dora Stoakley looked Daisy over from head to toe, and being on the plump side herself, she looked favourably at Daisy’s stout frame. ‘Not afraid of a bit of hard work by the looks of your hands,’ Dora said with approval, pouring them both a cup of strong tea.
‘Would you have to give any notice at the pub?’ Dora wasn’t normally given to hasty decisions but needs must.
‘I’m down to do an evening shift tonight so to be fair to Mr Treweeks I had better go in. I don’t like letting people down.’
‘Ellen Farrell normally does this,’ Dora said, pleased by Daisy’s integrity. Dora scattered flour onto her breadboard, cut off a small piece of dough from a mound on the table and began kneading it. The flour soon covered her hands and fingers, encrusting her nails. ‘I don’t suppose you know how to make bread?’ Dora added hopefully.
‘No, Mrs Stoakley, but I’m willing to learn.’ Daisy was in two minds whether to offer to help now but thought better of it. She didn’t want to mess up her clothes just in case she should meet Leo on her way out.
‘Mrs Deverell will have to agree to it, you realise that.’ And if she wants her family feeding it won’t be a problem, Dora thought, deciding to give the girl a go. ‘So, when could you start?’
‘I’ll give in my notice tonight and come back here first thing tomorrow morning. Mr Treweeks won’t be pleased though.’ Daisy shrugged her shoulders.
‘I’m sure if you explain my predicament he’ll understand.’ Dora beamed. Everything was going to turn out all right after all. She pushed back a wisp of hair, and flour smudged her forehead. ‘I’m sure you don’t mind my asking, but who told you the position was available.’
‘Jim Farrell. We’re old friends and I know his sister, Amy. Mrs Farrell has gone to help her sister-in-law who I believe is dying of the tuberculosis,’ Daisy lied. This last sentence was said in an exaggerated whisper, accompanied by much nodding of Daisy’s head.
‘Oh dear, I didn’t realise it was as bad as that. Poor Ellen, she must be worried sick.’ Dora stood quiet for a moment. She hadn’t been very sympathetic when John had told her the news. Dora decided to give John some bread rolls to make up for it and was consoled by her intended charity. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, as early as possible please,’ she told Daisy, and then carried on with her baking.
‘There is just one other thing,’ Daisy said awkwardly and Dora’s heart sank. ‘I have a room at the pub, my own room, which I’ll lose when I give the job up. Is there any chance of a room here at Tapscott?’
Dora considered for a moment. Three rooms were allocated to the servants, all situated on the second floor. Tom Pritchard the butler had one and Dora another. That only left Molly’s room. ‘If Molly is agreeable, would you consider sharing a room with her?’ Dora offered. ‘It’s a good-sized room and would take another bed.’
‘Oh yes, I don’t mind, and I’m sure Molly and I will get along well.’ Daisy would have agreed to anything, even bunking in with Pritchard, if it meant getting a room under this roof.
‘I’m sure Molly won’t mind. Come back tomorrow morning and we’ll have it all sorted by then.’
Daisy was so thrilled she gave Dora a hug. ‘See you tomorrow then, Mrs Stoakley,’ she called, walking out of the kitchen into the now empty yard. Daisy hurried back to the pub heedless of the painful blisters caused by her new boots, imagining the secret romantic meetings and the sexual encounters she’d soon enjoy.
Chapter 13
The Nags Head pub advertised special offer meals on a blackboard propped up outside the pub. Two for one Sunday roasts was their speciality, but for the last few days Amelia had noticed it said BBQ in large letters in red chalk. The theme for the barbeque was country and western and was to be held early evening the coming Saturday. Amelia mentioned it to Grace and they agree
d that they deserved a night out. The pub was within walking distance of Primrose Cottage, and Amelia in particular was looking forward to a few vodka and tonics.
On Friday morning, the day before the barbeque Amelia decided to sort through the laundry. It was a never-ending task, with Grace making more washing than was necessary, in Amelia’s opinion. Amelia tipped everything out of the linen basket onto a bedside rug and separated the items more urgently in need of a wash, then stuffed the rest back in to the basket. Before dumping it all into the washing machine, out of habit Amelia checked the pockets in Grace’s chinos and found a bus ticket and a packet of polo mints, which she put to one side on the kitchen worktop. Wedged deep under the mints Amelia found a small scrap of crumpled paper and, curious, she opened it out. Drawn onto the paper were four oblong shapes. One had the pencilled initials JF written in it. Amelia frowned, wondering what they meant. She slipped the paper underneath the polo mints and decided to ask Grace about it later.
In passing, in one of their recent catch up conversations, Amelia had mentioned the barbeque to Gwyneth, never dreaming Gwyneth would take it as an invitation. Gwyneth missed the girls more than she let on, so jumped at the chance to spend time with them. Lack of transport put her in a bit of a predicament though. After she had checked the local bus service and the connecting times for buses from Wrexham to Chester and back again, and the cost, Gwyneth reluctantly accepted Jake’s offer of a lift on his motorbike. Thus the unintended invitation came to include Jake too.
Not known for his punctuality, Jake surprised Gwyneth by arriving on time, but when she came out, her appearance triggered off an argument that nearly put paid to the prospect of a lovely evening.
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