by Polly Heron
‘Listen to me.’ She put her mouth close to his ear when his breathing had steadied as much as it was likely to under the circumstances. ‘I’m going to stay here, behind you, and I’ll lean forwards to protect you, so any water that comes over the side will land on me instead of you.’
Danny gulped and nodded. His body shook in a series of shivers that rocked him from head to toe. Molly put her arms around him.
‘Help is on its way. Mr Abrams is coming. He has to fetch some tools first, so we can—’
Her words vanished in a huge gasp as cold water doused her from above. She hunched over Danny, holding him tightly. More water dropped on top of her – and more. The weight of it was astonishing. She braced herself, pulling Danny closer to her as his thin body crumpled.
‘Hang on, Danny. Not long now.’
He gulped and gagged. The water sloshed around his chin.
‘Tilt your head back. That’s right. Just a bit longer. You can do it.’
Oh, where was Aaron?
‘Just a bit longer.’
*
Well, she hadn’t sent Vivienne to blazes, so that meant, it could only mean, that Prudence was about to speak the words that had never been spoken in all these years. She had come home from Scotland, telling herself she had left it all behind; telling herself to look ahead, to build a new life for herself. Except that the life she had built hadn’t been new. She had simply stepped back into the old life she had left behind. And here she had been ever since. Lord, how many years?
‘There isn’t much to tell. It’s the same old story that must have happened to so many girls. No young men were queuing up for me at the front door and I knew they never would. Most girls in that position, I suppose, learned to accept such a fate and resigned themselves to living at home with their parents; but I had other ideas.’ She adopted a light, crisp tone that invited neither comment not sympathy. ‘I was clever; I excelled at my job. I decided to forge a career for myself, which was no small thing in those days, I can tell you. It’s hard enough now, but it was significantly harder then. In those days, a female employee wasn’t even allowed to be on her own with a male employee; and if two people found themselves together, you can guess which one of them had to leave the room.’
‘Things have moved on,’ murmured Vivienne, ‘though not nearly as much as they need to.’
‘Agreed. At the start of the year in which I was due to turn twenty-one, I promised myself that I was not going to spend my birthday in the same job or even under the same roof. I was going to strike out on my own. If I was bound to be a spinster, I was jolly well going to be one with an interesting life.’
‘Was that when you went to Scotland?’ asked Vivienne.
‘Not quite as immediately as that. There was a girl I had been friendly with at school. She married young and – I don’t know why I’m speaking of her in this distant way.’
‘You mean my mother – Elspeth.’
‘She and your father started married life in the West Country, where Graham worked in one of his family’s hotels. They had moved to Loch Lomond the previous year so he could have a promotion. I had told Elspeth in a letter that I realised I would be working for the rest of my life and she wrote to say that the Loch Lomond hotel had a vacancy for a receptionist. I applied.’ She almost laughed, except there was nothing in this story that was worth laughing about. ‘It must have been the longest, most detailed letter of application in history. It all had to go in my letter, you see, because I couldn’t possibly go all that way just for an interview. But it worked. I was offered the post.’
‘And you went to Loch Lomond.’
‘That summer, yes.’
Loch Lomond. Endless skies of azure blue dotted with puffs of white cloud above the waters of the loch and its green islands. Closing her eyes as she inhaled that wonderful, pure air; wishing she could bottle it and keep it for ever; knowing she didn’t need to, because she was never going to leave.
‘And that October, on my twenty-first birthday, I…met someone. A man.’
Vivienne made the tiniest movement, leaning forward slightly. Pure instinct.
Prudence went cold. She had the feeling of being rooted in position, unable to move. And she did want to move. She wanted to run away. Good lord, what was she doing, talking like this? Speaking of things that had gone unspoken for thirty years. She had to hold her breath, because otherwise every last gasp of air in her lungs would rush out in one go, leaving her to suffocate. Buried memories that hadn’t been taken out and looked at in years flashed through her mind, startling in their vividness. Other memories too. Not real memories of actual events, but pseudo-memories, all the might-have-beens, the dreams, a thousand pieces of madness.
Her jaw clamped shut. She had to work it in tiny circles to force it to move apart.
‘You were born the following September. Elspeth and Graham had offered to adopt you. The plan was that Elspeth would announce she was expecting a happy event. I was to keep working as long as was feasible without arousing suspicion as to my condition and then I would leave Loch Lomond, ostensibly to be sent to another hotel to cover a period of staff sickness. In due course Elspeth would discreetly disappear on holiday and return with a baby that would be registered as hers and no one would be any the wiser. And I would move on from the “other hotel” to work in another one in the family business, well away from Elspeth and Graham and their new family.’
‘It sounds as if that isn’t what happened.’
‘Unfortunately, no one thought to inform you of the plan. I was staying in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, being cared for by a woman who was to deliver the baby, but in the final month I became extremely ill and needed more attention than she could provide. I ended up in a cottage hospital and that’s where you came into the world. The following day, the registrar of births, marriages and deaths appeared at my bedside. He was responsible for a large area and spent three days a week travelling around the hospitals and workhouses, gathering information for his records. The hospital had already supplied him with some details, which I wasn’t in a position to deny. All I could do was supply my middle name and decline to name the father.’
‘What about my name?’
‘That didn’t have to be chosen immediately. I left that to your parents to decide upon. The point is, I was never supposed to be on your birth certificate. If our plan had worked, I would have handed over my newborn child to Elspeth, and Graham would have gone to the registry office to register you as the daughter of Elspeth and Graham Thornton.’
‘And I would never have found you and we wouldn’t be here now.’
Rain streamed down the windows. The evening was drawing in early, filling the room with gloom.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ Vivienne said formally. ‘The question is: what do we do next?’
Chapter Thirty-Two
STARVED AND CLEMMED. That was what Gran sometimes said, meaning cold and hungry. Starved didn’t mean starving hungry. It meant cold. Clemmed was hungry. Well, right now, Molly was proper starved, reet starved. Bloody hell, more starved than she had ever been in her whole life. More starved than she had known it was possible to be and still be alive.
Another slosh of water from above hit her head and shoulders. It couldn’t make her any colder. That wasn’t possible. But each extra quantity of water put Danny in greater danger. He had tilted his head back, trying desperately to keep his mouth above water. She cradled the back of his head, brushing away small waves that threatened to slop over his face into his gasping mouth.
‘Keep still,’ she urged, but he couldn’t help it. His body was shaking with cold, with fear and exhaustion. His eyes were glazed. How long could he hold on?
‘Molly!’ Aaron’s voice.
She threw her head back. ‘Aaron! Quick!’
He wasn’t alone. Others were with him, but she couldn’t look at them, had to switch her gaze back to Danny’s face and keep it fastened there, as she tried to stop water getting to
his mouth.
‘Don’t move. I’m coming down.’
Lowered by willing arms from above, he arrived beside her without a splash. Nevertheless the water swirled and Danny gagged.
‘I’m going to see what’s what down there,’ said Aaron. ‘We’ll soon have you out, Danny.’
Taking a massive breath, he sank beneath the water. Molly felt him bump against her. She braced herself to stand still as his body crammed into the space at her feet and his hands moved purposefully, feeling, assessing. The water broke as he stood up. Again, Danny spluttered. Tears and snot and water.
‘It’s a socking great root.’ Aaron swept his wet hair off his face. He looked up at the anxious faces surrounding the hole. ‘Pass me the crowbar, will you? Be brave, son. A couple more minutes and you’ll be out of here. Promise.’
Taking the crowbar, he disappeared once more below the water. Molly whispered in Danny’s ear. She had no idea what she was saying. Down by her feet, Aaron moved, bumped, steadied. Then there were other movements, some jolts against her legs that she had to withstand to keep Danny’s position secure.
More water overflowed from the brook. Danny cried out, his voice cut off by a gurgle as water went down his throat. Then, from beneath, there was a sensation of movement and the lad started to struggle, arms flailing as he was freed. Aaron burst through the surface of the water, thrust the crowbar into one of the waiting hands reaching down from above and lifted Danny out of the water to be grasped and pulled to safety.
He turned to Molly. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded. She felt sick and chilled to her soul, but she had never felt more all right in her life.
‘Reach up and they’ll pull you out,’ said Aaron, but she couldn’t. She could barely move, certainly couldn’t lift her arms that high. Next thing she knew, Aaron’s hands were at her waist and she was lifted upwards to be grabbed by willing hands and dragged onto the wet ground. She wanted to lie there for ever, but Danny mattered more. She sat up. One of the men had wrapped him in a coat and picked him up.
‘He needs a doctor,’ she said.
‘I think Bunny’s gone to fetch one,’ said Jacob.
The men reached down and, with a huge heave, raised Aaron up onto the ground. He went straight to Danny, looking into his face.
‘You’re safe now.’
‘Not quite,’ said the man holding Danny. ‘He needs to see a doctor.’
‘Jacob says Bunny has gone to get one,’ said Molly.
‘Well, I think he has,’ said Jacob.
‘Let’s get everyone back to the Bowler,’ said one of the men. ‘Hot drinks all round.’
‘And this young man needs to be put to bed with a hot-water bottle,’ said Aaron, still standing close beside Danny.
Molly hauled herself to her feet. Jacob picked up a grubby, wet gabardine from the ground and draped it over his arm. He flung her a guilty glance and she smiled to show it didn’t matter.
‘Come along, Jacob.’
But Jacob was busy patting the coat.
‘What is it?’ asked Molly. ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s damaged.’
‘I had something in one of the pockets and it’s gone.’
‘Honestly, as if that matters after what has just happened.’
‘No, I remember. I took it out and – it should be over here, where the gabardine was.’
‘There’s nothing there now.’
‘You don’t understand. I have to find it.’
‘What I understand is that it doesn’t matter in the slightest.
Come along.’
Aaron appeared at her side. ‘Take my arm. You’re frozen. You should be seen by the doctor as well.’
She tried to walk, but her legs wouldn’t obey her and she would have fallen over had Aaron not caught her. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her. When they reached the Bowling Green, the landlady popped Molly into one of her own nightgowns and wrapped her in not one but two blankets before settling her in a cosy armchair beside a crackling fire, with her feet on a stool on the hearth. Jacob, wrapped in blankets, curled up in a chair opposite. Meanwhile, Danny had been put to bed with hot-water bottles.
And still the doctor hadn’t arrived.
‘I don’t know what Bunny’s playing at,’ Aaron said testily, ‘but I’m not waiting any longer. I’ll go and knock for Dr Keen myself. I’ll bring him back with me if I have to drag him by his hair.’
Molly nodded. There was a mug of cocoa on the table beside her, but she hadn’t touched it yet. Her fingers hadn’t thawed out.
‘I’ve sent one of the men to St Anthony’s and another to the police station, so Mrs Rostron will probably arrive any minute now. A bloke has gone to Wilton Close as well.’ Aaron glanced at Jacob, who was gazing fixedly into the flames, then dropped his fingers to her shoulder and pressed gently. ‘Well done. Danny couldn’t have managed without you.’
He lifted his fingers away. Her own fingers wanted to race after them and cling on. She bunched them into a tangle in her lap, hiding them in a fold of the blankets. She concentrated on her shoulder, trying to re-live the moment of his touch.
‘Will you sit with Danny while I’m out?’
‘Of course.’
She came to her feet, but her body wasn’t quite her own again yet, and she stumbled. Aaron caught her, holding her to him to steady her. She stayed there, wanting to relax into his embrace. He put her gently from him, ducking his head to look into her face to check she was all right. She nodded. God, what a twit she was. Fancy leaning on him like that, as if she was no better than she should be. If Jacob had seen, it would be all over St Anthony’s before you could say knife. And if he told his mother… But Jacob was still looking into the fire, apparently lost in thought, his mouth twisted, half of his lower lip turned inwards beneath his teeth. Poor lad. His family had been in a fire a few weeks ago and now he had been involved in an incident where another boy might easily have lost his life.
‘Can you manage the stairs on your own,’ Aaron asked her, ‘or do you need an arm to lean on?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She would be too, certainly until he was on the other side of the front door. After that, she would crawl upstairs if needs be.
‘Don’t let Danny fall asleep,’ said Aaron. ‘He’s trying to drift off, but I think he ought to stay awake.’
‘Surely sleep heals.’
‘I don’t know if this is sleep or unconsciousness. He’s shivering in spite of the hot-water bottles and he’s confused. You know yourself how cold that water was, and he was in it for a lot longer. I don’t think this is as simple as putting him into bed and warming him up. Maybe the doctor will want to send him to hospital. Wherever he spends the night, I’ll be at his bedside.’
‘So will I,’ said Molly.
Patience looked round the sitting room door. ‘Molly started some soup, then she had to go out. I’ve finished it and Lucy has had some. Would you like some?’
‘You can come in, you know.’ Prudence was shocked to hear the way she instantly reverted to her crisp, impatient manner. After the way she had opened her heart to Vivienne, shouldn’t she be a different person?
Patience inserted herself into the sitting room, but left the door open. ‘If you must know, Molly said there was a bit of an atmosphere in here. I don’t want to intrude.’ She looked at them, not nosily but with concern. That was Patience all over. She was a good person, a much better person than Prudence.
‘We’ve been discussing something important,’ said Prudence.
‘Why don’t you leave some soup to keep warm for us,’ suggested Vivienne, ‘and we’ll serve ourselves in a little while.’
‘Of course,’ said Patience. ‘I’ll be upstairs with Lucy.’
The door closed softly. Prudence looked at Vivienne.
‘Thank you for understanding the need for privacy.’
‘Did you think I would blurt it out?’
‘There hasn’t been time to think about anyt
hing. Nevertheless, we do need to decide what we’re going to do next.’
‘I’d understand if you want me to find somewhere else to live. After all, I came here under false pretences.’
‘Do you wish to leave?’ Prudence asked. Now that Vivienne had heard the shabby story of her birth, was that the end of it for her? Was that all she had come for? A slice of truth? For a moment, Prudence’s heart forgot to beat, simply forgot. She didn’t want it to be over. To her surprise, she didn’t want it to be over, but she couldn’t say so. She couldn’t put that kind of pressure on Vivienne, mustn’t make the girl feel guilty for stirring up more than she had intended.
‘I’d prefer not to, if you’re happy for me to stay.’
‘Good. Then please stay.’
‘Thank you. I will.’
How formal they were. But formality was what Prudence did best. It had been by maintaining formality that she had coped. Be strong. Be distant. Be efficient. Don’t let anyone get too close. It was how she had got by in the early days and then it had become normal, the way she was, the way everyone expected her to be. After all, she had always been rational and critical. Her heart had never been soft and yielding like Patience’s, and growing up with Lawrence had sharpened her tongue.
‘I’d like to get to know you better,’ said Vivienne, ‘if that would suit you.’
‘You have no idea how much that would suit me.’ Prudence threw the words out before she could change her mind. ‘This has come as an enormous shock and I hardly know what to think, but I do know this. I want to have this chance. I’ve spent thirty years trying my hardest not to think about you. Now you’re here and I don’t know what to do. All I know is, I want to do something and that means having you here. I don’t want you to go away. I don’t want this to be over.’
