Lonely Girl. Josephine Cox
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‘But she was with a man – that’s what you said.’
‘Did I?’ She could have kicked herself.
‘Yes. Just now, you said, “He was nothing special.”’
‘That’s right, but I didn’t get a good look at him.’
John needed more information. ‘This man – can you recall anything else? For instance, what he was wearing?’ He had an idea, though if he were less desperate he’d have realised he was clinging on to a very faint hope. ‘Did he have a mop of fair, wavy hair, because it might well have been her sister’s husband, Patrick. She may have gone with him to see her sister, although they surely would have rung us at home first.’ He was babbling now.
‘I can’t describe the friend,’ Peggy informed him. ‘I saw him only from the back. I was busy all night, so I didn’t get a proper look at him.’
John gently insisted, ‘Try and think back. Did the man have a thick mop of fair, wavy hair?’
‘I can’t recall. Sorry.’
John had by now convinced himself that Molly must have bumped into the amiable Paddy, her brother-in-law. ‘Thank you, and I’m truly sorry to have bothered you.’ He bade Peggy good night.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful …’ She began closing the door, regretting being so impatient with him. ‘Only I’ve had one hell of a day. I really need to get some sleep before I’m on my feet again.’ She was also wishing she had been more careful with the little information she had offered.
‘So you really have no idea where they were headed?’ John was not altogether content with the outcome of their little chat.
‘No, I have no idea whatsoever,’ she assured him. ‘I’m really sorry.’ She truly sympathised with his dilemma, but was most reluctant to add anything to what she had already said. Fearing he might ask more questions, she continued closing the door. ‘Good night then.’ Feeling mean, she quickly shut and secured the door behind him.
She then hurried up the stairs and went straight to the bedroom window, ignoring her husband’s sleeping form. She peeped through the curtains to see John Tanner hurrying away down the shadowy street.
She considered him to be a well-built figure of a man, in his long dark coat and black-and-white checked flat cap. She also believed him to be a good and kindly soul although if the occasion demanded it, she sensed, he could be a man to be reckoned with.
For a few minutes more, she kept him in sight but then he turned the corner and was gone.
She now called to mind how his feckless wife had flirted shamelessly with her male companion. ‘You’re a downright fool, Molly!’ she murmured under her breath. ‘You don’t deserve a fine man like John Tanner.’
Eager to get home, John quickened his steps. He felt somewhat relieved by the landlady’s assurance that he might find Molly waiting at the farmhouse.
Hurrying from the intrusive lights of streetlamps and passing vehicles, he turned into the long lane towards home. Maybe she’s right, he thought. Perhaps Molly really will be home by now, and no doubt wondering where I am.
He wondered if Rosie might tell Molly he was out searching the streets for her. He hoped not, because Molly would be angry about that and he was in no mood for an argument.
Taking a moment to think about it, he convinced himself that Rosie wouldn’t say anything. Regrettably, Rosie and Molly were never going to be best friends. He thought it understandable, especially when one of them was gentle and giving, while the other was hard-hearted and capable of wickedness.
He was painfully aware of how Rosie had not altogether forgiven Molly for spitefully whipping that poor old horse all that time ago, although, in truth, on that particular day Molly had shown a depth to her wicked temper that he had never seen before.
Even now, it was difficult for him to forgive Molly’s actions, although in time he hoped he would.
Rosie, however, with her caring nature and huge love for the tired old gelding, might take longer to forgive her mother. If she ever did.
‘COME ON, BIG BOY!’ Feeling playful, Molly drew Tom towards the big hay barn at Tanner’s Farm. ‘Nobody ever comes in here outside of work,’ she explained. ‘We could stay here all night if needs be, and no one would ever know.’
‘I’m not sure I’d want to stay here all night.’ Tom was surprised and a little concerned that she had brought him onto the farm after all. It made him nervous. ‘I bet there are mice and even rats hiding in here … and what if someone does come in and find us?’ He stole a look behind him.
‘Trust me, there won’t be anyone here at this time of night.’ Reaching into the deep crack under the window ledge, she collected the big iron key along with a bulky torch. ‘Ah,’ she waved the key at Tom, ‘I’m glad they still hide the key there.’ With a flourish she slid the big key into the lock and eased open the heavy door. ‘Come on, hurry up!’
When they were both inside, she spread her hands across the big door, and pushed it shut. That done, she carefully directed the narrow torch-beam in order to locate the switch, then switched on the light.
‘Hmm. There’s not much more light now than there was with the torch,’ Tom commented.
‘No matter,’ Molly retorted. ‘As long as it’s just enough to guide us, that’s all we need.’ She swept the place with a long, searching look, quickly satisfied that they were the only people there. ‘See, quiet as a graveyard. We’ll be all right in here.’
Greatly relieved, Tom chuckled like a naughty schoolboy. ‘So it’s just us two lovebirds, eh?’
‘Come on, you big old softy!’
Taking him by the hand, Molly led him further into the barn. The two of them followed a well-worn path between the bales. Wide enough to get a man and barrow through, it led them to the heart of the barn.
‘Wow!’ Tom was amazed to find himself surrounded by mountainous walls of hay bales, neatly stacked almost to the roof.
With the overhead light being barely adequate, Molly kept the torch trained low to the ground as she went, keeping a wary eye on Tom, who followed nervously not far behind.
‘Good grief! Where the devil are we going, Molly?… Are you sure you closed that door tight?… Ooh, look at that; I’ve never seen so much hay all in one place. It must have taken a long time to get it all stacked and safe.’
‘You don’t know anything about farming, do you?’ Molly teased him, rolling her eyes.
‘No, I don’t, and am never likely to. I work in a factory and I live in town. There ain’t no fields there, an’ there ain’t no hay-eating animals that I know of!’
‘Well, just so you won’t be totally ignorant, I’ll explain. The hay is cut and collected off the fields towards the end of summer, and fed to the animals over the winter months. John grows some of it for his own animals, but at least half gets sold to local beef and pork farmers who don’t have enough land for growing their own fodder. That works out well for everyone: it helps the farmers to feed their herds, and it also brings in more cash for us. Once the hay is inside, it’s no trouble as long as it’s kept in the right conditions.’
‘Hey, I’m not altogether stupid, Molly. But thanks for the information.’
Proceeding into the belly of the dimly lit barn, he glanced furtively about him, as though fearing some dark shape would leap out and swallow