Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox
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of her bed, washed and dressed and sprucing herself in the mirror. ‘Not bad for an old ’un, if I say so myself!’ Laying down the hairbrush, she ran her two hands through her short cap of greying hair, teased out a few stray curls and thought how, if it wasn’t for the occasional lapse of memory and the age spots on the back of her hands, she could maybe pass for a young thing of fifty.
Sighing wistfully, she shook her head. ‘Wish all you like, my girl,’ she chided herself. ‘It won’t change the fact that you’re past your prime, so stop fancying yourself in the mirror. Before you know it, the doctor will be here,’ she frowned, ‘not that you need him, because you don’t – but it makes him feel wanted, so shift yourself, and be quick about it.’
She observed her image in the mirror. She did her best to keep what was left of her looks, but had not yet regained her strength since stumbling in the local churchyard a couple of years ago. The incident seemed to have sparked off a form of arthritis, but this was what you expected, wasn’t it, at her age. You had to slow down, whether you wanted to, or not.
She gazed critically on herself; the skin was not as glowing as it used to be, and there appeared to be more of it which hung in little loose swathes round her neck, and there were lines round her eyes and mouth. But the small straight nose and heart-shaped face were still pretty, and the blue eyes as bright as ever. She had never been a beauty, that much was true, but she’d been better off than most women because, even though it was for a cruelly short time, she had had the love of a man like Barney Davidson.
Thoughts of her beloved overwhelmed her. She knew that Barney had never loved her as he had loved his wife, Vicky. In the end, Lucy may have filled his heart, but it was only ever Vicky who filled his soul.
Lifting the photograph from the dresser, she gazed down on herself and Barney, and the infant girl in his arms. It was a cherished picture, taken only a few months before Barney was lost to her, and even then, when the illness ravaged him, the goodness of the man, and his absolute joy of life shone out of his face – still a handsome face for all that.
Lucy choked back a sob. They had had so little time together, yet she thanked God for every second. They had shared everything – the anguish of seeing his wife and children leave him; the guilt and tears afterwards; the companionship between him and Lucy that grew into a kind of loving contentment, then the sheer joy and pride when Mary was born to them.
Through all the ups and downs of every passing day, they never forgot the others: Leonard Maitland, a man who had gone away knowing the truth, even though it meant he would never again have peace of mind, and Vicky and the children who had sailed with him, estranged from Barney and in total ignorance of the price he had paid for their new lives in America.
Lucy recalled the day when they left. ‘There was no other way, Barney,’ she murmured now. ‘No other way …’
The loud spluttering of a car engine brought her hurrying to the window. ‘Adam!’ The brightness of a spring day was startling, and the skies above were blue and cloudless. For late March, it was unusually warm. ‘Adam, what’s going on?’ she called down.
Covered in muck and oil, Adam was standing before the car in the drive of Knudsden House. He had the bonnet up and the starter-handle lodged into position.
‘The damned thing’s been playing up again,’ he called back, ‘and now it’s completely given up the ghost. I’ve done what I can, but I reckon she’ll need a new engine.’ Diving his head under the bonnet again, he fiddled with a few nuts and bolts, before returning to swing the handle for the umpteenth time. There was a shuddering and a spluttering, and a shout of victory when he thought he’d done the trick, but then the engine fell silent again. ‘It’s no good.’ Defeated, he gave a shake of the head. ‘There’s no spark at all now.’
Lucy shouted down: ‘Leave it! Come inside … Come on.’
His heart warmed by the invitation, Adam waved up to her. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
Closing the window, Lucy smiled to herself. No spark, eh? She hoped the day never came when they said that about her! Life might be a bit more of a challenge these days and her health was not as robust as she would have liked, but by God, she wasn’t done yet. Not by any means!
By the time Adam showed his face at the kitchen door, both Lucy and Mary were seated at the table, Lucy enjoying her eggs and bacon, and Mary toying with her scrambled eggs. ‘Look at the state of you!’ Pointing to Adam’s mucky face and hands, Lucy asked him sternly: ‘Have you had your breakfast?’
‘Not yet, no.’ Because the car had been playing up the previous day, he’d got out of his bed early this morning to work on the engine. ‘There was no time for breakfast,’ he explained. ‘Two hours I messed about with that blessed machine this morning.’ He groaned. ‘I honestly thought I’d fixed it!’
Lucy felt as though she had known him forever. A loyal friend to them both, Adam Chives had been part of her life with Barney, and after Barney was gone, he had seen her through a bad time and remained ever close. Lucy had often wondered why he never married, until some time ago he confessed to her that she had always been the only woman he had ever truly loved.
Time and again Adam had asked her to be his wife and time and again she had gently refused. But knowing how persistent he was, Lucy was in no doubt that some time in the not too distant future, he was bound to try again.
Taking a gulp of her tea, Lucy discreetly regarded him. Homely, well-built, with thick greying hair and kind expressive eyes, Adam was an ordinary kind of man, but with an extraordinary sense of loyalty. When he made a friend it was a friend for life and when he fell in love, it was with heart and soul.
Over the years, Lucy had prayed that he might find a woman who would bring him the happiness he deserved; though in the beginning she had never believed it was herself he needed.
When some years ago, she expressed her hope that he might find a good woman to share his life, he told her he wanted no other wife but her. And that he would always be there for her as long as she needed him.
His confession had touched Lucy deeply.
‘Right then, if you go and wash up,’ she told him now, ‘I’ll see to your breakfast.’
‘Thank you, Lucy, but no thanks!’ Hungry though he was, he didn’t want her fussing over him. ‘I don’t like to put you to any trouble, especially when you’ve got the doctor coming this morning.’
Brushing aside his protests, Lucy took another long gulp of her tea, before pushing back her chair and standing up. ‘Breakfast will be ready when you are,’ she assured him. ‘And don’t worry about the doctor. I can handle him.’ She laughed. ‘He seems a bit nervous of me. No sooner is he in the door than he’s itching to get out again.’
‘I’m not surprised. Poor devil!’ Adam chuckled. ‘I’ve seen how you boss him about.’
‘Only when he tries to tell me what to do!’ she retorted. ‘I know I’m not as young and foolhardy as I once was; my bones ache like the devil and there are times when I want to run and can only shuffle. Some days it’s like going through a fog … one minute it’s clear as a bell and I can go forward, then the next I can’t find an easy way and have to slow down.’
She smiled into his eyes. ‘So you see, Adam, the bad times come and go, but I’m not bedridden yet, thank God. If I’m tired I rest, and if I feel all right I’ll do whatever I please.’ She gave a wry little smile. ‘Either way, I expect I’ll pop my clogs soon enough.’
Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Adam gave a boot-deep sigh. ‘You can’t be serious for one minute, can you? Whatever will we do with you, eh?’ He knew what he’d like to do. He’d like to sweep her into his arms and carry her off. But you didn’t do that with Lucy. She was stubborn and a law unto herself. But that was the nature of her, and he would not have it any other way.
‘And don’t leave the sink with a rim of oil round it neither!’ Lucy’s voice sailed across the kitchen.
‘Right,