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Aggie was in a dilemma. She couldn’t let go of the old fella, who by now was growing heavy and limp in her arms, and she feared for John, who was in a bad way. ‘You heard what Dad said,’ she answered with a warning. ‘If it’s to do with our Emily, then it’s for me to deal with it.’ Beckoning John she told him, ‘Come inside, lad. I need to see what damage is done.’
John shook his head. ‘There’s no need,’ he answered. ‘I’m all right. Look, you’d best do as he says … take Mr Ramsden inside.’ The last thing he had wanted was to cause trouble for Emily’s family.
Aggie hesitated, but then Clem said meaningfully: ‘You’ve got a choice, woman. Yer can watch me use the shotgun on this young bugger, or you can go inside, while I try and talk some sense into ’im.’ He kept a wary eye on John. ‘It’s up to you,’ he told her. ‘Either way don’t bother me.’
Aggie looked at John, who gave her a smile and a nod. ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Go inside.’ He gestured at Thomas. ‘He’s all done in.’
Clem appeared to have calmed down somewhat, so Aggie had little choice, because now the old man was beginning to shiver, and so was she. The ordeal of facing up to Clem had taken its toll.
‘Come on, Dad,’ she said kindly, letting him lean on her. ‘You’ve had enough excitement for one day.’
Hoping things would settle down now, she guided him inside.
Once they were gone, Clem turned on John, though he deliberately kept his distance. ‘You want the girl, don’t yer?’ His voice was little more than a whisper, with a certain inference that riled the younger man. ‘Want ’er real bad, don’t yer?’
John knew well enough what he was implying and answered him with a rush of disgust. ‘Not in the way you mean.’
‘Oh, an’ what way is that?’
‘Whatever you might think, I would never take advantage of Emily,’ John said proudly. ‘I mean to wed her – if she’ll have me.’
Clem took a step forward, the anger reddening his face. ‘I’ll tell yer what you’ll do, you young pup! You’ll stay away from my niece. In fact, you’ll get as far away from ’er as you can, an’ never show yer face round these parts again.’
John shook his head. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Like I said, I mean to wed her one day.’
‘So you’ll defy me, is that it?’
‘You can do your worst, Mr Jackson, but I’ll never leave her!’
For a time they regarded each other, the air heavy with hatred. When next Clem spoke, it was to dash all John’s hopes into the ground.
‘What if I decided not to punish you, after all?’ he asked cunningly. ‘What if I decided it were the girl that’s bad – and not you at all? By! A young harlot like that would need some discipline, wouldn’t yer say?’
As he watched the horror unfold on John’s face, he chewed the fleshy part of his bottom lip, like an animal devouring its prey. And all the while observing John, with a sense of delight that he could hardly conceal. ‘Yer wouldn’t like that, I’ll be bound, but there’d be nowt yer could do about it.’
‘I could rip your heart out … that’s what I could do!’ Stumbling forward, John realised he was in no fit state to do anything at that minute, but he wouldn’t let this bully beat him. He couldn’t let Emily be hurt. ‘You touch one hair on her head, and I swear to God, I’ll kill you.’
The dog bared its teeth at him and growled.
Clem merely took a step back. ‘You’re not going to kill anybody!’ he snapped. ‘But if yer think anything of the girl, you’ll get as far away from this place as you can, and as quick as yer can! Because if yer don’t, it’ll be Emily that suffers, I can promise yer that.’
With a flick of his wrist he had John by the throat and the gun pushed into his belly. ‘I could do for yer right now,’ he whispered, ‘but there’s no need. I can see now how I might have got it all wrong, and that it really were the girl that led you on.’ He gave a little sideways turn and spat on the ground. ‘Yon Emily’s no more than a little slut – I can see that now. She needs teaching a lesson, that’s what!’
He gave a sly wink. ‘If you were to sling yer hook and clear off from round these parts, I dare say she would realise her mistake and be the good girl she allus was.’ His face darkened. ‘But if yer insist on staying, I reckon she’ll just go on being bad. An’ then – well, I’d have no option but to give her a good hiding.’
Struggling to free himself, John was frantic.
‘The thing is,’ Clem took pleasure from seeing the boy cornered, ‘I can do whatever I want. Like the old man said, it’s me that’s got the upper hand round this place, and it’s me that will ’ave to keep order, if yer know what I mean?’
‘You hurt her, and it’ll be the last thing you do.’
‘Oh, I will hurt her! I’ll have to, won’t I – unless you do as I ask. Look now, if you really are fond of the girl, you’ll sling yer hook an’ never come back. Do that, an’ the girl will be safe. But if yer defy me, then like I say, it won’t be you as suffers. It’ll be her. An’ even if by some unlikely chance you get to me afterwards – well, by then it’ll be too late, won’t it?’ Grinning wickedly, he let his next words sink in. ‘Because I’ll ’ave got to our Emily first.’
‘You bastard!’
‘Oh, I’ll not deny it.’ Clem paused, before going on in a low, trembling whisper. ‘You’re right – I am a bastard. Of the worst kind.’ His eyes hardened until they shone like marbles. ‘It might pay yer to remember that.’
With that he turned away and strode into the distance, Badger trotting at his side, leaving John to reflect on his words. And the more John thought on them, the more afraid he was – for Emily.
Because now he knew without a shadow of doubt that Clem Jackson was capable of anything, even murder.
Down at the brook, Emily had no idea of the horrible scenes happening up at the farm. All she knew was that John had arranged to meet her here at their usual place, and now here she was, patiently waiting for him, her heart leaping at every sound and her face flushed with anticipation.
Time and again she had wandered along the water’s edge, her eyes trained on the top field. She knew from their meetings in the past, it was the track he would take. Never once had he been late, not even when he had to put in extra work. He always got through it in time to be there when he promised.
Today, though, he was already late, she thought anxiously. And what did he have to tell her that was so urgent?
When they spoke last night, and he told her he would have some good news for her today, there had been a sparkle in his eye, making her think that he was going to see her mammy, and maybe ask if it was all right for him and Emily to start courting. She smiled at that. ‘A surprise’ – that’s all he would say, so now she would have to wait and see what it was.
Waiting wasn’t so hard though, she told herself. Not if she knew for certain he would be there.
Sitting cross-legged on the bank, with the sound of the brook playing over the boulders, she felt so content. This was a beautiful place, where the two of them had sat many a time over the past six months or so, talking and laughing, putting the world to rights. Making plans, dreaming dreams, and every passing minute, learning to love each other. John had been at Potts End Farm for just on eight months now, living with his Aunt Lizzie in a cottage over the rise in Salmesbury. Nearly twenty years old, the lad had been just a good friend to Thomas’s granddaughter for a few weeks, chatting to her while he worked on the wagons, and occasionally helping her with the animals when his own chores were done. From being good mates, the two of them had discovered love, and by now, each knew they were made for the other.
While she waited for John, Emily watched the late spring lambs at play and smiled. God’s world was a wonderful place, she thought.
Just then, a fat little lamb came to her side, curious as to what she was doing there. She ran her hands along its woolly shoulders. ‘My! You get bigger every time I see you.’ She laughed when it skipped off to find its mother. ‘Look at you … tapping your mammy for milk, and you’re almost as big as she is, poor thing.’ She watched with pleasure as the lamb nuzzled under the ewe’s belly, its tail wagging and its mouth locked onto its mammy’s long red teat, while the noise of its sucking echoed in that quiet morning air.
Emily loved it here. The bottom field was the furthest from the house and the prettiest of all. With the ragged hedges of dog roses and other wild flowers spilling their colour across the skyline, and the soft ripple of water as it meandered along, she thought this must be as close to Paradise as anybody could get.
Here in this idyllic place, alone or with John, she could sit and think, and wonder, and hope that one day her Uncle Clem would leave and their world would be happy again.
For now though, as the lambs skipped about her, she held out her arms and embracing the smallest of the flock, she gazed into its big dark eyes. The love in her heart spilled over. ‘His name is John,’ she whispered into its woolly ear. ‘We like each other a lot, and one day, maybe we’ll get married.’ Her face flushed a bashful pink. ‘Oh, I don’t mean he’s told me that’s what he wants, but I can feel it,’ she said to the wriggling creature. ‘At least, I hope he wants to marry me, because I don’t think I’ll ever want to marry anybody else.’
A sudden awareness filled her young heart. ‘I really do love him,’ she confided. ‘I must do, because when we’re together I’m so happy, I don’t even let Clem upset me. Then, when we’re apart, I feel so lonely.’ She looked to the top field. ‘He’ll be here any minute. Isn’t that wonderful!’
Giving the lamb a final hug, she took a leisurely stroll along the water’s edge. Her thoughts lingered with John, and the possibility of spending the rest of her life with him. It was a daring, wonderful thought, and it brought a smile to her face. I wonder what he’s got to tell me? she asked herself for the twentieth time.
Once again, she trained her gaze on the top field. Still no sign of him, but it didn’t matter. There was time enough before she had to be back. Besides, if she had to, she would wait for him for ever.
Filled with the energy of youth, she began to run, gently at first, her bare feet feeling every bump and curve of the land. Soon though, urged on by a rush of exhilaration, she was running like the wind, her hair loose and lifted by the breeze, and her strong legs covering the ground with surprising speed. Caught up in her own private joy, she didn’t notice the locket fly from around her neck and lose itself in a patch of sweet-scented clover.
Laughing out loud, on she ran, along the brook’s edge, then through the cool water and back again.
Thrilled to see the lambs leaping after her, she led them up and down, but they stopped at the stream’s edge and, in spite of her cajoling, would not enter the water. So she played the game and took great delight in their company. She ran and splashed and ran again, up the field and down with the lambs in pursuit. Until at last she fell in a heap, exhausted and happy, certain that today was special.
Because John had some important news to tell her.
Lying there, spreadeagled on the grass, her face uplifted to the sun and her heart pounding, Emily had never felt so alive. ‘I love him!’ she shouted to the elements. ‘I LOVE HIM!’ Her smile deepened and her laughter was a joyful sound that echoed across the fields.
She felt free out here; free to say what was in her heart. Free to be herself and not be afraid.
It was a wonderful feeling.
Chapter 3
MAKING HIS WAY slowly and painfully to the brook, John looked towards that special place where he and Emily had arranged to meet. His sorry eyes scoured the area, but he couldn’t see her, and a small wave of relief surged through him. Though he had longed to see her, he had not wanted Emily to look on him the way he was now; nor was he ready to tell her what was on his mind. He needed time to think. He had decisions to make, and above all else, whatever the cost, he had to do what was right for Emily. Nothing else was important. Nothing else mattered.
Right now, though, he had to clean himself up, so with that in mind he headed for that part of the brook where the water tumbled down from the hillside. Here there was a deep pool where he could immerse himself in the cool, soothing waters, and put his mind to what lay ahead.
Afterwards, he would speak with his Aunt Lizzie. She was the wisest person he knew. All his life, whenever he had been troubled, she had been there to guide him. Like Emily, she was kind and giving, with a way that put a man’s heart at peace.
Determined now, he pushed on, his mind alive with thoughts of Emily.
There were things she had to know, and other, more worrying things that she must never find out, such as Jackson’s determined threat to ‘punish’ her unless John left the area for good. But how could he go? How could he leave her behind? Dear God! It didn’t bear thinking about.
On the other hand, how could he stay, when that maniac had promised to harm her? And even though he was ready to guard and protect her with his life, how could he stop Jackson from carrying out his threat?
Balancing against a tree, he slowly shed his outer garments. His best shirt was torn and bloody; every part of his body hurt abominably. He knew he was lucky to be alive, and that by nightfall he would probably be in agony, once a lot of the shock had worn off. As he reached the water and slid into its cold, shocking depths, he considered the options open to him. He could defy Jackson and stay, which would mean risking Emily’s well-being. Or he could go, and live a life of loneliness without her. And what of Emily? He had seen the love in her eyes, and it warmed his heart. But she would get over him, and in time maybe he, too, would learn to live without her. Oh, but it was a sorry prospect, and one he would rather not face.
There were other options, he reminded himself. He could do away with Jackson – an ‘accident’ maybe, one dark night, across the far fields where the man often walked. If he planned it carefully, no one would ever know it was him.
He mentally shook himself. God Almighty! He was talking murder! If he was found out, he’d be hanged and Emily would be on her own just the same. Even worse, she would have to live with the shame and horror of what he had done. And what about Lizzie? She and Emily were the two people he loved most in the whole world. How could he do such a terrible thing to them?
Suddenly the full horror of what he was considering hit him like a hammer blow. No! Murder was not an option.
He wondered whether Aggie might allow him and Emily to get wed? But he already knew the answer to that. ‘Emily is far too young,’ she would say. ‘You haven’t known each other long enough to know your own minds.’ And Emily’s grandfather would agree with that wholeheartedly. The whole idea of marriage would be thrown out of the window. In fact, the mere mention of it might result in him being forbidden to see Emily again, until she was older.
What if he were to warn Aggie of the threat Jackson had made to her daughter? They could take it in turns to watch him. But no, that wouldn’t work either. Aggie already had more than enough on her hands. Besides, even with the two of them on guard, they couldn’t watch Jackson twenty-four hours a day. He was a devious, evil creature, and if he set out to do something, he was bound to do it. That was the nature of the man.
The authorities then? Another bad idea, because even if he went to the police and told them of Jackson’s threat to Emily, Clem was such a clever liar, he was bound to come out on top.
While he washed away some of the physical hurt, John’s mind was frantically searching for guidance. Maybe he could go back to Jackson and try to reason with him? But the man had no reasoning powers in him. Should he fight him, then? In a fair fight, he might be able to bring him to his knees … send him on his way. He reminded himself that Jackson was like no ordinary man. He would simply crawl away like some injured wild animal, to lick his wounds and bide his time. Then he’d be back, more dangerous and determined than ever.
After a while, chilled through and beginning to shiver, John climbed out and stood in the sun; it was good to feel the warmth on his bruised ribcage and back. But there was no warmth in his soul, for he was torn in so many ways. Time and again he had to remind himself: it was Emily he had to think of. Not himself. Not that maniac. Only Emily. But what to do?
With his whole body shivering uncontrollably, he fumbled on his clothes and began to walk home. He could think of nothing except his Emily. Even if she was aware of the danger, she would still want him to stay – he was as sure of that as he was sure of his love for her. She had such spirit.
He smiled. That was just one of the facets of her nature that made him love her so. Then, sighing, his heart once more heavy, he made his way home.
Taking full advantage of the morning sunshine, Lizzie Hanley was busy pegging out the washing. A small round person in her latter years, she was a quick, familiar figure. With bright green eyes, homely face and a halo of silver hair, she took great pleasure from the ordinary things that brightened her day: the trill of a blackbird overhead, the bees’ contented buzz as they gathered nectar, and the feel of a mischievous breeze as it tugged at stray hairs in her bun and tickled her face with them.
Just then, a long-eared hare on the skyline stood up on its hindquarters to stare at her. She stared back … only for a moment, and then it was gone. She smiled. This was her place. This was her life. And she was grateful for it.
Having used two pegs to hang out her long red-flannel nightgown, she promptly wedged another two in her mouth while she bent to the wicker-basket and lifted a damp sheet from the pile of freshly laundered items there.
Immersed in her task, she didn’t realise John was approaching. Always a happy soul, she sang to herself – a strange, muffled melody as it filtered through the two wooden pegs clenched in her teeth.
It was only when she heard a sound behind her that she swung round to see him standing there, his face swollen and bruised, and the wet shirt on his back clinging to him like a second skin. ‘Good Lord!’ Dropping the sheet to the ground, she spat out the pegs and took hold of him. ‘What in God’s name happened to you?’ Without waiting for an answer she propelled him inside, with John protesting all the way, ‘I’m all right, Auntie. Don’t fuss.’
But fuss she did, because it was her way. Moreover, she could see he’d been badly hurt, and knowing him, she suspected he was in more pain than he would ever admit.
Inside the pretty thatched cottage, John sat by the fire-range, his thoughts still with Emily. He had searched for an answer and now he knew what must be done.
‘Who’ve you been fighting?’ Returning with a bowl of hot water and a cloth, Lizzie set them down on the table, together with arnica and some strips of clean soft cotton from an old sheet.
Seeming not to have heard her, and disturbed by his own thoughts, John stood up and moved to the window, from where he looked out on the garden; it was such a pretty garden, with a winding gravel-path flanked by blossom of all kinds, and all of it lovingly tended by his Aunt Lizzie’s hand.
She came to stand by his side. ‘When a man’s been fighting,’ she said softly, ‘it’s usually over some woman or other.’ She tugged at his shirtsleeve. ‘You’d best get outta these wet things.’
‘You’re right.’ He turned. ‘You might as well know … I’ve had a bit of a set-to with Clem Jackson.’
The old woman nodded grimly. ‘Aye, I thought as much.’ She gestured to the injuries on his neck and temple. ‘He didn’t do those with his fists neither, did he?’
‘I’d best get out of these wet clothes, like you said.’
Lizzie barred his way. ‘Was it because of the lass?’
John nodded.
She sighed knowingly. ‘I’ve seen it coming. You and the lass, making up to each other like a pair o’ young doves. Oh yes, I’ve seen trouble brewing for some weeks now.’ She looked up at him. ‘Aw, look now! You’re both too young to be getting serious.’
‘I love her.’ His voice dropped to the merest whisper. ‘I always will.’
Again she gestured to his wounds. ‘Looks to me like you’ve been warned off.’
He gave a little smile. ‘You could say that.’
‘Does young Emily know you’ve been beaten because of her?’
‘Not yet.’ He limped back to the chair, but he didn’t sit. Instead he leaned against the arm. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be told soon enough.’
‘This is not good, son.’ Though she was his aunt and not his mother, Lizzie had called him ‘son’ from the first day he was given into her care at the age of five. He had made her life a happy one, but now she was deeply worried. She wagged a podgy finger. ‘Happen the two of you had better stay away from each other for the time being?’
John appreciated her concern, but this was something he had to deal with in his own way. ‘Leave it to me, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘You know I’ll do the right thing by her.’
The old dear was penitent. ‘Oh lad, I didn’t mean to interfere, and o’ course I know you’ll do the right thing … but it’s got me worried, what with Clem Jackson calling the tune at that house, and now you coming home in this state. There’s things here that I don’t much care for … bad things! Just you be careful. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘You’re not to worry.’ Laying his two hands on her shoulders, he promised, ‘Like I say, I’ll deal with it.’
And for the moment, as he climbed the narrow stairway to his room, she had to be content with that.
Concerned that she might have missed him, and wondering if she’d made a mistake about the time or the place, Emily made her way home.
Aggie saw her coming. ‘Where’ve you been, lass?’ That was always her first question whenever Emily returned from her wanderings. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’
Emily glanced at the mantelpiece clock, surprised to see she’d been away for almost two hours. ‘I’ve been down by the brook,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I didn’t realise I was gone so long.’
Aggie wondered whether she should tell her about John being here, and how Clem had beaten him with the butt of his gun. Deciding there was really no way out of it, she went straight in. ‘Lass, I want to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.’ She smiled. ‘But then you allus do.’
Going to the larder, she took down two china beakers and a jug of home-made sarsaparilla covered with a muslin and bead cloth to keep away the flies. She half-filled the beakers with a measure of the dark brown liquid, and handing one of them to Emily, she urged, ‘Sit down for a minute, lass.’ She pointed to the rocking-chair by the window, where she herself had been sitting only a few minutes since. At the same time she drew up another chair close by. ‘We need to talk, you an’ me.’
Emily did as she was told, and when she was seated, she asked curiously, ‘What’s wrong?’ She only had to look at her mammy’s face to realise there was trouble of some kind, and it didn’t take long for her to realise it must have something to do with Clem Jackson. If ever there was any trouble round here, you could depend on him being at the centre of it.
Seating herself opposite, Aggie looked her daughter in the eye. ‘It’s about you and John,’ she said quietly. ‘It seems you’ve been keeping me in the dark, and because of it, Clem’s got his back up. And now, this very morning while you’ve been away, there’s been a right set-to. I’m sorry, lass, but I’m none too pleased.’ She gave the girl her sternest stare. ‘Happen none of this would have come about if you’d been open with me from the start!’ Though she adored Emily, she didn’t take kindly to her keeping secrets from her.
Emily was taken by surprise. ‘What do you mean, trouble?’ she asked worriedly. ‘What kind of trouble?’