The Journey (39 page)

He returned within minutes, carrying a tray with hot milk with whiskey and biscuits, and under his arm a blanket. “Here we are!” Setting the tray on the side table, he wrapped Barney in the blanket. “Good! You’ve stopped shivering.” He was relieved to see that the man’s color was already returning.

Handing the mug to Barney, he warned him, “Be careful, now … it’s very hot.” But it was exactly what Barney needed. “Now then.” Leonard sat in the armchair facing him. “Are you ready to talk?”

Barney gave him a wary look. “Can I trust you?”

Leonard assured him, “I’m not one to betray a trust.”

Setting his mug of milk on the hearth, Barney threw back the blanket and edging his legs round so as to be sitting opposite Leonard, he sat quiet for a while, with the only sound the ticking of the clock. When he finally spoke it was to say in a low, secretive voice, “I want you to take my wife and family to America.”

Leonard was curious. “But isn’t that what we have already decided? You and the boys are to help me run the farm, and Joanne is to run the house. I thought it was all agreed.” He paused. “You’ve changed your mind—that’s it, isn’t it, Barney?” There was disgust in his voice. “That’s why you’ve been behaving in such a shocking way—because you’ve changed your mind and didn’t have the guts to tell me. So you thought if you behaved badly enough, I wouldn’t want you with me anyway?”

“I wish to God that was the way of things,” Barney said sadly. “You asked me a moment ago if I was ill. Well, yes, I am ill …
very ill.
In fact, there isn’t much time. The thing is, I’m concerned about Joanne, and my children. If they knew how desperately ill I am, they would never leave me, and I’m so afraid for them. I want you to take them with you, Leonard. Make a good life for them, and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

Leonard was shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand. Are you asking me to take them,
without you?
”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“For God’s sake, man, what’s going on in your head? Have you lost your mind altogether? For one thing, if you’re so ill, you need your family more than ever. Joanne would never go without you. And there’s another thing: I need
you,
Barney. No other man could help me put the farm back on its feet like you can.”

There was a long moment when Barney laid back on the sofa, eyes closed and wishing he was not having this conversation. However, he had no choice, not if his family were to have the chance of a new life in America.

Leaning forward he told Leonard, “You’re not listening to me. I want you to understand why I’ve been behaving the way I have. More than that, I need you to help me, or it will all have been for nothing.”

Realizing how serious Barney was, Leonard remained silent, attentive to his Farm Manager’s every word.

Barney told him everything: that his heart was fading and that he could never recover. He had agonized over and again about how he might still give his family the chance of starting a new life without him, aware that if they were to suspect that he was seriously ill, they would never abandon him. He told Leonard of their great excitement and of his own despair because, “Through no fault of my own, that wonderful opportunity you give us has been snatched from me. But it must not be snatched from my wife and children. That’s why I’ve behaved the way I have—to turn them against me—to make them hate me as they have never hated anyone.”

He paused again, unable for a moment to go on, and when he did, the tears spilled over. “I know you love my Joanne,” he said. When Leonard made to protest, Barney put up a staying hand. “Please don’t deny it. I’ve known for some long time that you love her. I’ve seen the way you watch her when she’s in the field. I saw how you danced with her at our party, with love in your eyes and the tender touch of a man with the woman he loves. She has the children, but she will need you more than you know. You’re a good man, Leonard. Take her, and look after her, I beg you. I will ask Arthur to write to you and let you know it’s all over, so you can marry my lovely Joanne in fullness of time.”

He had one more thing to say, because now his strength was depleted. “I’m not strong any more, but my sons are. I can’t help you bring the farm back to life, but they can. I’ve taught them everything I know. Give them their dream, I beg you! Take them away, and never in your life tell them about our conversation this night.”

Exhausted, he lay back on the cushions. “You have to promise me this, or the bad things I’ve done will all have been for nothing.”

Leonard had been devastated by Barney’s terrible news, and now this request had him in turmoil. “You’re asking too much of me, Barney.” With his head bowed low, he searched for the right words. “How can I take a man’s family across the Atlantic and leave him behind to …” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “How can I possibly do that?”

“You can do it, Leonard, because if you don’t, they’ll remain here, with no home and no one to guide them. God knows, I’ll be gone soon enough, and it’s more than I can bear. I’m asking you to help me. Who else can I turn to? You offered them a new life, a journey the like of which they will never know again. It’s up to you.” His voice weak, he pleaded for the last time: “Surely you won’t refuse me? Think of Joanne. Think of her, alone and unprotected. No, Leonard, you can’t refuse me this.”

For a time, Leonard paced the floor, back and forth, up and down, occasionally stopping to shake his head and turn the matter over and over in his mind.

Presently, he came to sit in the armchair. “What will happen to you, Barney?” he asked worriedly. “Who will take care of you?”

The sick man did not hesitate. “Lucy will be there when I need her, I’m sure.”

Leonard gave a long, deep sigh. “I don’t know, Barney, I just don’t know. You’re ill, you need your family about you.
You need Joanne
… What would she say if she ever found out that I had taken her away when you needed her most?”

Barney looked at him then, a world of understanding in his eyes. “Joanne must
never
know. None of them must know.”

Leonard was humbled. “Do you really trust me that much?”

“I do, yes. I trust you never to tell, for as long as you live. I trust you to promise me and keep your promise. Will you do that for me, Leonard? Will you promise to take them and look after them, and never betray me?”

Amazed at Barney’s calm manner, Leonard observed him as never before; that ordinary man, with an extraordinary courage, and he was deeply humbled. “I’m sorry, Barney,” he said harshly. “I’m sorry for what’s happened to you, and I’m sorry that your family will be losing the bravest man it’s ever been my privilege to meet.”

“But will you promise all those things, Leonard?
Will you?
”

Leonard got out of his chair and began pacing the floor again, his hand cupping his chin as he thought deeply about this unique situation. It was true that he loved Joanne, and it was true that he desperately needed men he could trust, like the Davidson youths, to help him restore his grandfather’s farm to its former glory. Barney was the Farm Manager here, but his two fine sons were made in the same mold.

The promise weighed on his mind. How could he promise never to tell Joanne about Barney, to say that she ought to be worshipping the ground he walked on instead of rejecting him. Everything Barney had done—the bad things and the angry things, making them despise him while he was suffering so terribly—all of it had been done deliberately, so as to save his family a world of pain and suffering.

Could he play his part in it, as Barney pleaded with him to do? And if he did, could he live his life, seeing Joanne and her sons every day; working alongside and getting to know them and keeping secret the amazing truth about their father? Was he that strong?

It seemed a wicked, deceitful thing, and yet it was what Barney wanted, what he craved: to see his family settled and safe—the only thing that could give him peace of mind and heart.

While Barney patiently waited, Leonard continued to pace, and when at last he came to rest, his mind was made up. “All right, Barney, if it’s in my power to grant you the peace of mind you seek, I promise to do as you ask.”

Visibly overwhelmed, Barney leaned back and closed his eyes. After a moment, his eyes shining with tears, he looked up at this man, and in a strong, grateful voice he told him, “You can’t know what you’ve done for me, my friend. You have my deepest thanks. Whatever happens from now on, I know I can rest easy.”

On the pretext that his milk had gone cold, Barney asked Leonard if he wouldn’t mind bringing him another glass. The man readily obliged, and while he was gone but a few minutes, he returned to find the front door open and Barney loping slowly along the lane, making his way through the darkness like a wounded animal.

At first, Leonard started out after him. But then he thought better of it. “No doubt you have things to think about,” he whispered, closing the door. “We
all
have much to think about now.”

I
t was the day before the Davidson family were due to sail. The mood in the farmhouse was one of excitement, though it was tempered with a somber atmosphere. “I never thought I’d see the day when your father turned his back on all of us.” Joanne had suffered sleepless nights since Barney’s departure from their lives.

Ronnie was unrepentant. “I don’t have a father any more,” he declared angrily and, though his heart was sore at the thought, Thomas also agreed. Too much had happened. There had been too many tears and too much soul-searching, and now it was time to call an end to it.

“He’s chosen his way, and now we have to choose ours.” Going to his mother, Tom put his arms round her shoulders and held her close. “We’ll look after you, Mother, me and Ronnie and our Susie.”

Having gathered the last of her things to be laid out for packing, Susie looked up at her brother’s words. “That’s right,” she said. “We won’t let you down, not like
he’s
done!” Shutting her father out of her life was the hardest thing Susie had ever had to do, but now it was done, and though there were regrets, there could be no turning back.

Ronnie looked on, morose and bitter. He had said all he wanted to say on the matter of Barney Davidson, and now he was concentrating on the exciting prospect of a long sea journey, and at the end of it, a new life; a life in which there was no place for the man who had once been their beloved and respected father.

Although their mother assured them that everything was going to be all right and that they must not worry about her, inside she was broken up. Her love for Barney had never wavered, even through the terrible times when he had humiliated her, flaunted his women and driven her to the edge of sanity.

“Mr. Maitland is coming for us early in the morning,” she reminded them. “Make sure you pack everything you want to take. There’ll be no coming back once we’ve gone.” The words stuck in her throat—
once we’ve gone.
How casual it sounded, when all the time this remarkable journey to America would be the most frightening step she would ever take, especially without her beloved Barney by her side.

“I need to get a few things in town,” she lied now. “I won’t be long. You all carry on with what you’re doing and we’ll go through everything when I get back.”

Ronnie walked with her to the door. “It’ll be all right, you know,” he said quietly. “We will manage without him.”

Displaying a bright smile, she nodded. “I know, son.”

“You still love him, don’t you?”

The smile slid away and in its place came a bitter-sweet look of regret. “Yes, I’ll always love him,” she answered softly. “And so will you … we all will.”

Feeling her pain, he took her in his arms.

Neither of them spoke again, and when Joanne drew away, he helped her on with her coat and opened the door for her. And when she went down the lane he stood there for what seemed an age. “It’s just the four of us now,” he murmured. “We’ll have to take care of each other.”

Joanne had already done all her shopping and was ready to leave Liverpool forever. But she had to make one last desperate attempt to recover the Barney she knew, and rebuild the marriage in which she had found such great joy all these years.

With that in mind, she made her way to Bridget’s house.

Lucy was in the sitting room talking with Barney when she heard the knock on the door. “I bet that’s Bridget, forgotten her eyes again,” she told him. Having taken Lucy’s advice these past few days, Barney was rested and feeling much better.