Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox
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face crumpled in a smile. ‘It’s an odd world,’ he said. ‘I love you; you loved Barney; and he loved Vicky. The eternal triangle.’
Letting go of him, Lucy sat back in her seat. ‘We can’t help the way we feel,’ she answered.
With her touch still tingling on his skin, Adam waited a moment, before in a spurt of boldness he asked, ‘Marry me?’
Momentarily taken aback, Lucy was about to answer, when he stopped her. ‘You said just now you loved me, though I accept it could never be like it was with Barney. But I’ve never loved anyone else and never could. Think about it, Lucy. We’re so good together. We can talk easily to each other …’
There was so much he wanted to say. ‘We’ve known some wonderful times, Lucy,’ he remarked thoughtfully. ‘Some good, some bad. But we’ve lived through them together, always supporting each other. We make each other laugh, we’re content and easy in each other’s company. What more could we ask, at our time of life? And I’ll always take care of you, Lucy. You know that.’
Lost for words, she took a moment to consider what he was saying. This was not the first time Adam had proposed, and she suspected it would not be the last. But this time there was a kind of desperation about his boldness, and it made her ashamed.
‘Oh Lucy, I’m so sorry.’ Wishing he had kept his silence, Adam was concerned that he had turned her against him. ‘Now I’ve spoiled everything, haven’t I?’
Lucy put his fears to rest. ‘No, you haven’t, you darling man. We’ve always understood each other, and we’ve always been able to speak our minds. That will never change. You’ll always be very special to me.’
‘But you won’t marry me?’
‘I can’t.’
‘Never?’
Lucy had learned to count her life in minutes and weeks. ‘Never is a long time.’
Sensing a kind of acceptance, Adam thought it wise to back away from the subject of marriage. ‘I won’t mention it again.’
Lucy chuckled. ‘Yes, you will.’
‘Do you want me to?’
Loth to mislead him, she made a suggestion. ‘Why don’t we just leave things as they are for now? When I have a change of mind, I’ll be sure to tell you. Agreed?’ She held out her hand for him to hold.
Adam was thrilled. Lucy had said, ‘when I have a change of mind’.
That was his first real glimpse of hope. ‘Agreed!’ Reaching out, he took hold of her hand and kept it clasped in his for a moment longer than necessary, until Lucy gave him one of those reprimanding, twinkling looks that turned his toes up and set his old heart racing.
The conversation took another direction. ‘Lucy …’ He hesitated. ‘Will you let me take you back?’
‘Back?’ She knew what he meant, but could not bring herself to acknowledge it. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Back there … to Jamie.’ Before she could protest, he went on, ‘For your own peace of mind, you must go back. Do you think I don’t know how it haunts you? Sometimes, when your mind wanders, I know you’re thinking of him, reliving that night, remembering every little detail. I feel your pain, Lucy. You need to be there. It isn’t enough that you’ve arranged to have his grave looked after, and no, Bridget did not tell me about that. She didn’t have to.’
Lucy felt the weight of his every word. ‘Are you judging me?’ she whispered.
Adam shook his head. ‘I would never judge you, you know that,’ he assured her. ‘We all need to deal with things in different ways. I knew you could never come away and not have someone look after Jamie’s resting-place. Bridget was the obvious choice; she’s loyal and honest, and she thinks of you as family.’
Lucy gave a wistful smile. ‘She’s always been there for me, and now she’s there for little Jamie. I owe her so much.’
‘I know that. And it’s a good arrangement, but it isn’t the same, is it? Forgive me, Lucy, but anyone can pay weekly visits and place the flowers there, and I know Bridget is a long and loyal friend, but she is not his mother. You are.’
Pausing a moment, he then went on in softer tone, ‘I know how, deep down, you long to go back. Let me take you, Lucy. Please! Let me do that much for you at least?’
‘I can’t!’
‘Why not?’
For a long moment Lucy lapsed into silence, her mind alive with the past, then in a fearful voice she asked, ‘What do you think happened to Edward Trent?’
Adam snorted with disgust. ‘We can only hope and pray he’s already got his comeuppance. A man like that must incur enemies and loathing wherever he goes.’
‘Why do you think they never caught him after … after he …’ Her voice broke.
‘Because like all rats he knows all the dark places where he can scurry away and hide.’
‘Do you think he’s still alive?’
Adam shook his head. ‘Who knows? If there’s any justice, he’ll be rotting in the fires of Hell where he belongs!’
When now, Lucy turned away, her face cold and set with loathing, he asked tenderly, ‘Let me take you back, my darling. It might help to lay the ghosts.’
But Lucy would not be persuaded. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ she replied quietly.
Realising that Lucy had put up the barriers and he had no chance of getting close, Adam departed, leaving her to ponder on what he’d said.
Strolling to the dresser, Lucy held Barney’s photograph and for a time she looked at his familiar face, the strong set of his jaw, the light in those wonderful eyes, and the boyish, mischievous smile that played about his mouth. A sigh rippled through her body. So much to think about. So much guilt. And what about Vicky and the others? Should she write to them, or should she leave well alone?
The thought of revealing Barney’s long-held secret was almost unbearable. Lucy asked him: ‘How can I tell her how you put yourself through Hell, so she and your children could have peace of mind and security?’
She lingered a moment longer, tracing the profile of his face with the tip of her finger, and turning the whole idea over in her mind. ‘If the truth must be told, I pray they will find the strength to deal with it,’ she whispered.
As she walked away, Lucy turned back to the photo one last time. She thought of those on the other side of the Atlantic, and at last she knew what must be done. ‘I know I will have to tell them, Barney,’ she said out loud, ‘and I know it will come as a terrible shock. If I had it in my power, I would make it less painful for them.’ Her heart sank. ‘But it’s not.’
Squaring her shoulders, she searched inside herself for an answer, but there was none. ‘They would need to find the strength to live with it.’ The smallest hint of bitterness shaped her words. ‘Just as we did, all those long years ago.’
Outside, Elsie was chatting with the coalman, conveniently forgetting she was in a rush and making him chuckle as always. ‘I saw you in front as you came down the lane,’ she told him. ‘I might have begged a lift only you were too far away.’
A bumbling, homely sort with a wonky shoulder got from years of carrying heavy bags, the coalman joked, ‘So you don’t mind your arse being covered in coaldust then?’
‘Not really, no,’ Elsie replied. ‘I might tell yer, I’ve had worse than that in my time. But I’ve never had a ride in a coalcart.’
‘An’ would you enjoy two grown men fighting over yer?’
‘Hmh? That’ll be the