The Journey (34 page)

When he saw her expression he grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Aw, look, Lucy. We were always good together, you know that!”

“You used me!” Shaking him off, she told him in a quiet, trembling voice, “You lied to me all along, and when I needed you more than ever, you ran off.” She stared at him, wondering what she had ever seen in him. “We don’t need you, Frank. We don’t want you here. Please go. Leave us alone.”

He was desperate now. “I love you, Lucy, it’s why I keep coming back. I’ve always loved you. I didn’t realize it until now.” Darting forward, he grabbed her by the arm. “I had you, and I threw you away,” he said angrily. “But I’ve got you back now and I don’t intend to let you go.” Cupping her face in the palms of his hands, he whispered earnestly, “I know I did wrong, but I do love you, Lucy. You’ve got to believe me.” And he did love her, as much as a man like him could ever love anyone.

“Get off me!” Lucy’s instincts told her that at long last he might be telling the truth, but it was too late. Frank Trent no longer meant anything to her. Thankfully she was over him now, and could see him for the selfish, vicious man he had always been. “I don’t want you here, now get out!” She put Jamie down and tried to distract him with a toy while she hissed, “Go on! Get out of my house!”

Realizing she meant every word, Frank shook his head and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “Not without you.”

Afraid now, Lucy had to think hard. She had to be rid of him, but how? Suddenly an idea came to her. “For a long time I hoped and prayed you might come back,” she lied, “but you didn’t. So I had to make a life for me and little Jamie, and now I’m going away to America. We’re leaving soon, Frank—it’s all arranged.” She added as an afterthought to appease him, “I’ll write to you. Give me an address, and I promise I’ll write as soon as we get there.”

Visibly shocked, he took a step back.
“America!”
Looking into her eyes he gave her a shaky smile. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.” She was desperate to make him believe. “Why would I lie? If you were hanging about outside, you must have seen Barney Davidson bring me home. There’s been a big party up at Overhill Farm to say goodbye to all the friends and neighbors. Mr. Maitland has sold up here, and we’re all going with him to help run his farm in Boston, Massachusetts. If you don’t believe me, ask anyone. It’s common knowledge round here!”

“You little bitch!” Without warning he tore the child from her, and over the sound of his terrified cries, he said calmly: “You’re not going anywhere, with Mr. Maitland or anyone else. You’re coming with me. We’re getting right away from here. I’ll find us lodgings in London. Somehow we’ll manage. We’ll be all right together, you and me … and him.” Though he had acknowledged his love for Lucy, he had little feeling for the child; so far he had not spoken to Jamie, or even looked at him.

“No, Frank! There was a time when I would have walked to the ends of the earth for you, but not any more. You see, I don’t love you.” The calmness in her voice belied the turmoil inside. “Now give me my son.” Reaching to collect little Jamie, who by now was screaming hysterically, she did not expect what happened next. Raising his hand, Trent brought it down hard against her temple and sent her reeling across the room.

“I must be out of my mind to want you back,” he snapped. “Dancing and laughing, and flirting with every man in sight. You’re nothing but a trollop!”

Hurt and dazed, she dragged herself up by the chair; somewhere in the chaos of her mind she heard Jamie crying. “Give me back my son!” she said hoarsely.

“Want the brat back, do you?” He gave a low, grating laugh that sent shivers through her. “You can have him … but you’ll have to take me as well.”

Lucy was frantic. “Please, Frank, it wouldn’t work between us. All I want is to be left in peace.”

Clambering up against the chair, she went sprawling again when he thrust his booted foot into her side. “You don’t seem to understand what I’m saying,” he growled. “You either come with me now, or I’m taking him with me, and you’ll never see him again. So, what’s it to be?”

Terrified that he might carry out his threat, Lucy was tempted to give in and let him stay—anything to have little Jamie safely back in her arms. But what then? He might rape her—get her with child again! Her flesh shuddered at the thought of his touch. He was repulsive to her. Anyway, he would soon discover that it was a trick on her part, and then his rage would know no bounds. What would happen to her and Jamie then?

“Well?”
He stood over her, his face dark with loathing.

Lucy looked at her son, still sobbing with fear. She turned her gaze on Frank and begged, “Don’t hurt him, please. If you want to stay, you can stay, and we’ll talk again in the morning.”

When she saw the look in his eyes she knew it wasn’t enough. “Please, Frank, you’re asking me to give up everything I know and love, to go away with you. I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes either. Give me time to think about it; you owe me that much.” She held out her arms. “And now …
give me the child.
”

As he cut across toward the river on his way back home, Barney thought it was the most beautiful time of day, when the moon was full and round and the skies speckled with a myriad of twinkling stars. All along the chilly hedgerows he could hear the night animals scurrying about, and in the distance, the unique sound of a barn owl. “You made something wonderful when You made this earth,” he murmured, his gaze roving the heavens. There was such peace and beauty on God’s earth, and he felt deeply privileged to be a part of it.

Then, suddenly, Barney was made to stop in his tracks. “What’s that?” From somewhere close he could hear the sounds of human voices raised in anger. Turning this way and that, he tried to pinpoint where the voices were coming from, but it was difficult; the tumbling of water from the weir diverted his senses.

There it was again! His attention was drawn back, toward the high bend in the river, not too far from Lucy’s cottage. It sounded as if somebody was in trouble! Quickly now, he made his way back, pausing every now and then to catch his breath, and taking off again when a child’s wail shattered the night air.

As he came round by way of the spinney, he saw a figure running in the moonlight; he was carrying something—what was it? A sack … a child? Dear Lord, it was a child! And coming up behind him was a woman, running and stumbling, and all the while calling out for the man to stop.

When he recognized her, he was horrified. “Lucy?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. The woman was Lucy, and the child must be little Jamie … but the man—who was he? His name appeared in Barney’s mind like a lit beacon. FRANK TRENT! It had to be!

“Lucy!”

Quickening his steps to a run, time and again Barney called out her name, but Lucy didn’t hear. They were too close to that part of the river where the water tumbled over the rise and thundered down into the basin beneath.

Gasping for breath, his chest afire, Barney took off again to gradually close the gap between them. He saw how, on reaching the river, Lucy launched herself at Trent. There was a struggle during which, with one backward swipe of his burly arm, Trent knocked her down.

At the top of the rise, Barney had to stop again. He bent his head low, and with his hands on his knees, he took some long deep breaths, and after a moment or two, slowly regained his composure. When he set off again, he could see Frank Trent. With the child under his arm, he was using the moonlight to illuminate his way across the most dangerous part of the river—a line of big boulders straddling the water. Doggedly pursuing him, out of her mind with fear, Lucy was yelling for him to give her the child. Jamie was frantically struggling in the man’s arms, making the situation even more dangerous.

When Trent ignored her pleas, she followed, slipping and sliding across the slimy boulders toward the far bank.

“No, Lucy, come back!”

When Barney yelled out, in a part of this nightmare Lucy heard, but she kept on going, because Frank Trent had her baby, and she would follow him to Hell if needs be.

By the time Barney came to the river, Lucy and Frank Trent were locked in a fierce struggle on the rocks above the weir, with the terrorized child screaming hysterically.

Desperate to get Lucy and her son out of there and with no thought for his own safety, Barney ran slithering over the boulders. Taking hold of her, he tried to get her to safety, but she wouldn’t listen; all she knew was that her baby was in terrible danger. When driven by desperation she foolishly made a grab for the child, Trent lost his footing, and to her horror Lucy went with him.

Wading through the water to get to them, Barney saw Trent scrambling toward the shore and when, with the saturated clothes clinging to her body, Lucy went after him, Barney warned her to stay back. “Leave him to me, Lucy!” He bellowed a warning. “You’re putting the child in more danger!” But with reason long gone, she took no heed.

Everything happened so quickly there was nothing Barney or anyone else could have done. Going against Barney’s advice, Lucy made another grab for the child. As she caught him safely in her arms, Trent missed his footing and fell into Lucy, who then lost her balance—and in seconds the fast-flowing river snatched Jamie from her arms and whirled him away in its embrace.

Lucy made a brave effort to rescue her son, but not being a strong swimmer she was buffeted against every obstacle, as her son got washed farther away.

Ahead of her, Barney got to the child first, but it was already too late. The force of water that had snatched him away and carried him downriver, had wedged him between two half-submerged rocks.

When Barney found him, the water was swirling over his face, and there was nothing he could do.

Desolate and bedraggled, he took the drowned child into his arms and waded upriver, to where Lucy was making her way toward them.

At first she began shouting for joy. “You’ve got him!” She laughed out loud. “Oh Barney, you’ve got him!” Her heart soared at the sight of her boy, safe in Barney’s arms.

With tears streaming down his solemn face, Barney looked into her eyes and slowly shook his head.

When Lucy saw the expression on his face, it was as if the world had come to an end; there were no words to describe the horror that tore through her. For the longest, deepest moment, the silence in that place was awesome.

As she tenderly took her baby from him, Lucy thought she would never again in her life know such pain.

Half-blinded by her tears, she gazed on that small, still face and her heart-wrenching cry echoed across the valley, shaking the night and striking fear into the cowardly heart of Frank Trent, who by now was already some distance away.

L
ike everyone else in Comberton-by-Weir and far beyond, Leonard Maitland was deeply shocked by the events of that night.

When Jamie Baker was laid to his rest, Leonard had been there for Lucy, along with her friends and neighbors; for with her parents split up and out of touch, with no thought or care for their little grandson, since he had been born—and died—out of wedlock, poor little mite, Lucy had no real family to help her through.

The service was very emotional, and afterward, when everyone gathered at Overhill Farm, the air was thick with disbelief. No one there could recall anything of such a tragic nature happening in their lifetime.

In the dark days that followed, Lucy withdrew into herself; by day she wandered restlessly over the fields and hills, as though searching for her lost child, and at night she headed blindly for Barney’s house, where he and Joanne and the children were waiting to give support and comfort. They, too, missed the little boy and were heartbroken.

On this chilly day, with the date of departure fast approaching, Lucy and Barney prepared to visit Leonard Maitland. “Lucy, love, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Barney had worried about Lucy’s decision and had done all he could to change her mind, without success.

He tried again to dissuade her, but she was adamant. “You and your family have been kindness itself,” Lucy told him, “but soon you’ll all be gone away. I have to take charge of my own life now.” Her voice broke. “You know how much I love the cottage, Barney, but I could never go back there, not without my little angel.” Taking a moment to compose herself, she said in a whisper, “How can I ever forgive myself, Barney?”

“Whatever d’you mean?” But he knew well enough what she meant, for hadn’t he told her time and again that she was wrong?