‘Besides,’ she said, ‘I’m too old in the tooth to be moving house and starting over.’
Adam told them he felt the same. ‘Liverpool will always be where my roots are,’ he confessed, ‘but my home is in the south …’ no one missed the adoring glance he shot in Lucy’s direction, ‘… with Lucy and her daughter.’
‘And how is your daughter, Mary?’ Bridget enquired of Lucy. ‘Sure, I thought you were bringing her with you, and this young man of hers – Ben, isn’t it?’
‘They’ll be along shortly,’ Lucy promised. ‘Mary called on us this morning before we set off and said how Ben’s sheep had all started lambing. The pair of them were up all night, and the lambs were still coming when we left.’
‘And do they know where to find us?’
Adam intervened. ‘I copied out the directions you sent to Lucy,’ he said. ‘I’m sure they’ll find you, no trouble.’
‘Good!’ Like Amy, Bridget was longing to see Lucy’s daughter. ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her,’ she told Lucy. ‘When you took her from here, she was just a tiddler, so she was.’
There was something else Bridget wanted to know, but she wasn’t quite sure how to broach it.
Anticipating the question, Lucy enlightened her. ‘We didn’t go to the churchyard,’ she said quietly. ‘If that’s what you’re wondering?’
Bridget nodded. ‘You read my mind, pet. I was just after asking if you might have called there first.’
When emotion threatened to creep up on her, Lucy merely shook her head. The memories were vivid as always: after little Jamie’s second birthday party on that joyous November night, Trent had appeared at her cottage, wanting her back, beseeching her to leave Liverpool with him. Then, when he realised that her love had turned to hate, he had snatched her child and disappeared into the night.
Mortally afraid for little Jamie, Lucy had pursued him, but he was like a madman fleeing through the pitch-dark fields. Stumbling and calling, she had gone after him, but he was always a distance away. And then he was crossing the river, carrying the child over the slippery boulders that straddled the water above the weir, now in full flood. Screaming hysterically, Lucy had followed him. And it was while grappling with him that Edward Trent began to lose his footing in the raging torrent.
It all happened so quickly. She pleaded with him to give her the child, but he was so crazed and evil there was no reasoning with him. Then Barney came out of the darkness and shouted for her to go back, to leave it to him, but instead, fearful for little Jamie, she followed her instincts and reached out for her baby. Then suddenly it all went wrong. In one frantic, desperate moment, she and Trent lost their footing, and their son was gone. And as the water carried him away, she prayed, like she had never prayed in her life before or since.
Caring nothing for his own life, Barney had gone after the child but it was all too late, and since that terrible moment when he had carried Jamie’s lifeless body to her, she had blamed herself. If only she had listened to Barney when he told her to get back. If only she had not pursued Edward Trent, he might have returned her child safely. If only he had not made for the river … if only. If only. Dear God, would the heartache never end? And now here she was, where it all happened, and for her own peace of mind, she must visit little Jamie’s last resting-place.
The prospect was unbearable to Lucy, and yet she desperately needed to stand where he lay, to speak with him and in her heart and mind to hold his hand and reassure him that she had not forgotten, that she still loved and remembered him and would do so until the day she followed.
So often she had mentally prepared herself for this day, when she would be with him, yet each time she had resisted. Because she knew how hard it would be, how devastated she would feel. But it was ever in her mind and heart. These past twenty years and more she had thought of little else.
‘So, will ye go?’ Soft and encouraging, Bridget’s voice entered her consciousness.
Lucy nodded. ‘You know I will.’ Of that there was no question.
‘Not today though, eh, Lucy?’ Adam could see how tired she was. He above all others knew what an emotionally draining experience it would be when Lucy finally returned to her baby’s resting-place. ‘I think we should go back to the hotel and take it easy for the rest of the evening.’
As always, his only thought was for Lucy. ‘I’ll take you to the churchyard first thing in the morning, when you’ve had a good night’s sleep. What do you say, Lucy? It’s been a long journey. You need to take it easy now.’
Lucy took a while to answer. To the others, she appeared calm and controlled, while inside, her heart and mind were in turmoil. How could she go there? How could she not? Yet she must. She must! Oh, but where in the name of God would she find the strength?
Suddenly her heart was open and her mind at peace. From Barney, she realised; that’s where she would find the strength.
‘You’re right, Adam.’ She smiled on him and his heart warmed. ‘It might be best to leave it until morning.’
Bridget had a suggestion. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting ye haven’t had a good meal all day, am I right?’
Up to now, Lucy had not felt hungry, but suddenly she was famished. ‘Why don’t we all have dinner at the hotel?’ she suggested, perking up.
‘Well, I never!’ Bridget cried excitedly. ‘You took the very words out of my mouth. It’ll be my treat, so it will, and no arguments.’
Neither Adam nor Amy needed much persuasion and so it was arranged. ‘You take yerselves off, and me and Amy will be there soonever we’ve painted our faces and put on our glad rags.’
At seven-thirty they gathered in the hotel bar. Having rested awhile, Lucy was now bathed and changed. She had on a black straight-skirted dress with blue collar and cuffs, and her hair was swept back into a loop and fastened with a daisy-chain pin. ‘You look lovely!’ Even if she was dressed in sacks, Adam would still think the same. In his eyes, Lucy was everything perfect.
All the same, Lucy was flattered. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’ In his dark suit and pale green shirt, he made a handsome figure.
Amy and Bridget arrived on time; Amy looking young and fresh in a brown two-piece, Bridget painted to the eyeballs with dark rouge, crimson lipstick, and the smartest bright green two-piece. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she laughed. ‘I look like a leprechaun.’ She cast a scathing glance at Amy. ‘Sure, haven’t I already been told that?’ Doing a twirl she fished for compliments, and got them a-plenty.
Spending a few minutes in the bar for a premeal drink, they were delighted when Mary and Ben came through the door. ‘What a lovely surprise! You’re just in time for dinner.’ Lucy gave them each a hug before proudly presenting them to Amy and Bridget.
‘Gawd love us!’ Bridget wrapped herself round Mary and squeezed her so hard, Lucy warned her she’d have her eyeballs out. ‘Look at her … she’s all grown up, so she is!’ There was no stopping Bridget once she started. ‘Oh, and isn’t she like her daddy! Oh Lucy, I can’t believe it.’
Becoming emotional, she was almost in tears, until Lucy told her firmly, ‘Behave yourself, and let the young ’uns get ready for dinner.’
An hour later, they all went through to the dining room.
The evening was perfect, the food was done to a treat, and the conversation at different times both sparkling and nostalgic; with Bridget unable to take her eyes off Mary, and Mary content to see her mother’s eyes shining with pleasure at being with her old friends.
Later, when they had a few minutes alone, she mentioned to Ben that tomorrow would be a difficult day for Lucy. ‘God only knows how she’ll cope when she goes to the churchyard and sees little Jamie’s grave. It’s bound to bring it all back with a vengeance.’
Ben