In Search of Hope (6 page)

Libby fingered the letter, which had only her first name on it. She remembered that handwriting, jagged strokes, leaning to the right and always black ink. She wanted to hold it to her cheek, because it was as near as she could get to cuddling her grandmother again.

Mr Greaves waited till she looked up. ‘Rose loved receiving your Christmas letters. She was thinking about contacting you directly when she fell ill. She was ill for several months, went downhill very rapidly and didn’t want you to see her like that. Cancer can be a cruel way to go.’

‘I could have helped her if I’d known.’

‘You were still with your husband and, as far as we could tell, were making no attempt to leave him.’

‘I was afraid they’d take Ned away from me, and I thought I could cope, because Steven worked very long hours so I didn’t have to spend a lot of time with him. But when he hit me, I reached my absolute limit.’

He nodded, then glanced quickly at his wristwatch. ‘I’m afraid I have to see my next client shortly. You’ll be all right with Joss. You can trust him with anything.’

‘Yes, of course. Thank you for seeing me so quickly. Come along, Ned. Say goodbye to Mr Greaves.’

The two of them walked back to Reception, but Joss wasn’t there, and she immediately felt nervous. Steven had had time to follow them now and he did know the lawyer’s address. But there was nothing she could do. She didn’t even have a car that worked.

She took Ned to the toilet then sat down to wait, annoyed with herself for being such a wimp. Once all this was sorted out, she mustn’t become dependent on anyone else.

Not even a kind neighbour like Joss.

Emily Mattison walked round the front area of the old pub on the edge of the moors. When she’d inherited the Drover’s Hope the previous year, it had been in a tumbledown condition, but she and her partner Chad had decided to convert it into an antiques centre.

Before his accident, Chad had run a prestigious antiques gallery in London, and antiques had always been her hobby, so they’d both enjoyed setting up the antiques centre.

This place would be very different from Chad’s London gallery. They weren’t intending to cater to the rich so much as to people who loved beautiful old things. They hoped the centre would attract visitors to the district, bringing a few more much-needed jobs to a depressed area. Of course, they’d offer things online as well. And buy things as well as selling them.

They were both in their later middle age, comfortable, and they wanted to do something they found enjoyable.

The rear room, a former barn with parts of the structure dating back to medieval times, was now a hall in which they would rent out space to other dealers.

They were putting a small coffee shop in the wide corridor that led to the barn, using an old storeroom with a wall knocked out for the prep and cooking area. Surely anyone driving past would stay longer if refreshments were on offer? The café would be run by one of Emily’s friends.

Now they were almost ready to open the centre. Most of the stalls in the Old Barn had been rented quickly and it was looking very attractive. It was almost as if the complex of old buildings had been designed to fit their needs.

It had been a long time since Emily had felt so positive about life. She’d thought herself too old to find love again, but she and Chad had settled in happily together.

Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned, happy to see him come out of the office. ‘I’m thrilled with the way it’s all coming together. Aren’t you?’

He came to lace his fingers in hers. ‘Delighted. The stall holders understand that we’re not dealing in tat or modern stuff, however pretty, only quality items that are at least fifty years old. This isn’t a car boot sale.’

She hid a smile. He’d told her this several times already. He had very high standards. ‘Did I hear the phone ring?’

‘Yes. It was the removalists. The last of my stock will arrive from London tomorrow, after which my London gallery can be handed over to the new owner.’

‘Has Toby got back?’

‘Not yet.’

Emily looked at her watch. ‘It’s the first time he’s been so far on his own. I so hope he’s all right.’

‘He wanted to try going into Rochdale independently. He’s perfectly capable of asking people for help, and he also has his mobile phone, so he can ring us if necessary. He’s surprisingly good with that gadget.’

‘I know, but still …’

‘You’re over-mothering him again. He may have Down syndrome, but he’s at the higher achiever end of the scale. There’s enough routine here for him to feel safe and yet he can learn new things. The people at Community Services are over the moon with the accommodation we’ve provided. They were on the phone earlier. They’re bringing a young woman to see us tomorrow as a possible tenant for the second flat.’

‘It’ll be good for Toby to have someone to fill Nicky’s empty flat. He misses her. The two of them were good friends.

‘We knew that heart condition meant she could die at any time. At least she had the pleasure of a few months living here.’

They’d converted the old stables at the rear of what had once been the oldest part of the inn, setting up a trio of studio flats for intellectually challenged young men and women. It had a communal socialising area, and was only for people who were capable of living on their own with some regular help and supervision from a social worker.

This was Emily and Chad’s way of saying thank you to fate for letting them escape from a difficult situation.

When they heard a bus chug up the hill and stop outside, Emily hurried across to the front window. ‘Toby’s back. Thank goodness.’

‘I told you he’d be all right.’ Chad came to put his arm round her and they waited for their tenant to come inside and report his return.

‘Everything go all right?’ Chad asked him casually.

Toby beamed at them. ‘Yes. I walked round the market on my own and bought this.’ He held out a carved wooden figure of a woman.

It was a fairly crude carving, but when Chad took it from him, he whistled softly. ‘It’s probably seventeenth century. How did you know it would be a good thing to buy, Toby?’

The young man shrugged. ‘She felt old and … lonely. I like her.’

When he’d gone round to his flat at the back, Chad looked at Emily. ‘I’m beginning to think that young man is an idiot savant about antiques. When he bought that little painting last month, he said something similar: he thought it looked old and he liked it. At this rate, his flat is going to be full of valuable antiques.’

‘How valuable are they?’

‘That little painting would sell for a couple of thousand pounds.’

‘Wow!’

‘And the figure … several hundred, I think, but I’d need to do some research about recent sales to be sure.’

‘Either this place or the people living here seem to provide us with surprises at regular intervals.’

‘I’ve had a lot of surprises since I met you, not least what your job used to be. You don’t look at all like someone working in the security field. It must have made for an interesting life.’

He put his arm round her waist and they went upstairs to the spacious new flat they’d had built out of the former inn’s bedrooms. They’d also put in a pair of guest bedrooms. The previous owners’ flat downstairs was now the office suite and contained a strong room for the centre’s more valuable acquisitions.

It was all so normal and peaceful these days. She hoped it would stay that way.

Libby didn’t open her grandmother’s letter as she sat waiting, but she did take the big envelope out, just to touch it. It was quite bulky and must contain more than just a letter.

When Joss came back to the lawyer’s rooms, Libby felt better as soon as she saw him. He seemed to bring in with him a swirl of cool air, freshened up by last night’s rain. He looked rosy-cheeked, sane and ready to take on the world.

Now, where did the emphasis on ‘sane’ come from, she wondered. Steven wasn’t insane, just … a bit warped. No, a lot warped. Why did she keep denying that in her own mind? Because he was Ned’s father? Probably. She hated to think her son might grow up like that.

‘All finished?’ Joss asked.

She realised she’d been staring into space and nodded quickly.

‘I thought I’d take you to the Domestic Violence Unit first, get it over with. Then we’ll do our shopping.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘I know it’s embarrassing, but it’s to keep you and Ned safe.’

‘Embarrassing! It’s totally
humiliating
.’ She snapped her mouth shut before she said something worse. After all, he was only trying to help her.

Without a word, he set off, making no more attempts to start up a conversation. She should have apologised, but she couldn’t think about anything except what was going to happen to her at this unit.

A few minutes later he pulled up in front of a detached house in the suburbs. ‘This is it.’

Libby was surprised at how normal the place looked. She didn’t know what to say, so she made a non-committal noise and unbuckled her seat belt. By the time she got out, Joss was releasing Ned.

She stood back, waiting as he locked the car. To her surprise Joss put his arm round her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. She’d thought he was annoyed with her for being ungrateful, and hadn’t expected this unspoken gesture of support. Tears came into her eyes. ‘Sorry for being … grumpy.’

He fumbled in his pocket and shoved a bunch of tissues into her hand. ‘You’re bound to be emotional, but they’re really good people here and they do understand what you’re going through and feeling.’

She blew her nose hard and straightened her spine, determined not to weep on him again. She couldn’t help wincing, though, as pain stabbed through her, but she ignored that and managed to speak fairly normally. ‘Mr Greaves said you used to work here.’

‘For a time. Some cops don’t like it, but I considered it a very worthwhile experience. Frustrating, though, when a woman refuses to press charges against her husband and goes back to him. You know she’ll meet with further abuse. A leopard doesn’t change his spots easily.’ He held the front door open for them.

‘I won’t do that.’

He stopped to look at her. ‘No. I don’t think you will.’

The hall had a reception desk to one side, with a young woman sitting behind it. ‘Hi, Joss. Haven’t seen you for ages. How’s the leg?’

‘A lot better, thanks.’

‘We were sorry you had to leave the force.’

‘I’m not a desk person.’

She grinned. ‘No. We figured that out when you worked here.’ She turned to Libby. ‘Welcome to Rossholme. You must be Ms King.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘And who’s this?’ She waved to Ned.

‘My son, Ned.’

‘All right if I offer him a S-W-E-E-T-I-E?’

‘Yes.’

Ned took the little orange sweet and popped it in his mouth, but stayed pressed against his mother. He seemed overwhelmed by his surroundings and perhaps he’d picked up on his mother’s tension.

‘Ms King, why don’t I take you through to Carina, who’ll be looking after you? Joss, do you want to come back later?’

‘I’ll hang around, as long as I’m not in the way. If Ned gets restless after the doctor’s checked him out, I can take him for a walk round the garden or we can play with the toys. Would that be all right with you, Libby?’

‘If he’ll go with you.’

‘Kids usually do.’

The receptionist watched him go with a wistful look on her face, as if she fancied him. ‘Joss is brilliant with kids, you know. He loves them and they love him.’

Carina was a slim, elegant woman, with coffee-coloured skin, lightly silvered hair and the most beautiful dark eyes. Libby felt instantly at ease with her.

Talking about what had happened upset her, though, especially when she had to show them Ned’s bruises and he played up, so that she had to hold him still for the photos.

She tried to accept the doctor’s examination of her own body stoically. It was necessary; she knew it was. But she hated being exposed and photographed, couldn’t hold back the tears of utter humiliation, which upset Ned again.

She thought that would be it, but Carina took her back to the cosy little sitting room, dropping Ned off with Joss on the way. ‘Just a few more minutes then you’re clear for today, Libby.’

She gestured to a chair, sitting sideways to it. ‘You’d really benefit from counselling about this.’

She had enough on her plate. ‘I’ll be fine now that I’m away from Steven.’

‘You’d probably recover more quickly if you came here for counselling, and since you’re new in the town, if you joined a group, you might also make some friends.’ She held up one hand to stop Libby’s protest. ‘Could you trust me enough to give it a try? Just one visit? Oh, and we have childcare here, so Ned will make friends too.’

That made another refusal die on Libby’s lips. Steven hadn’t wanted Ned to go to playgroups or anywhere with other children, who were, he insisted, walking germ carriers.

Libby hadn’t had any experience of counselling, but she didn’t like the idea of someone poking around in her emotions. Her words came out more sharply than she’d intended. ‘Why do I feel as if I’m being steamrollered?’

‘Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I do apologise. But you’ve been steamrollered for a few years, from what you tell me, and that sort of conditioning doesn’t just go away. Please try one session, Libby.’

‘Who does the counselling?’

‘I do, if you’re comfy with me. Or we have others we can call in. Your choice.’

There was something about the warmth in those dark eyes that pushed Libby the rest of the way into changing her mind. ‘Oh, very well. I’ll try it once, but I’m not promising anything after that, mind.’

‘I’m so pleased.’

When they went out, Libby made an appointment for the following week, before walking along to the play room. Joss and Ned both looked to be enjoying themselves, so she waited in the doorway, not interrupting.

When Joss turned round, he studied her face, nodding. ‘Carina’s great, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

He turned to Ned. ‘Remember I said we had to pick up the toys afterwards?’