- Home
- Janet Woods
I'll Be There Page 8
I'll Be There Read online
Page 8
Jack received a jail sentence.
A week later Mary and Douglas Yates put the boatyard up for sale, then traveled to Winterbrook to close up Canford Cottage.
‘Jack wants me to take him the squirrel painting, even though it was Janey’s statement that convicted him,’ she said bitterly.
‘Don’t fall into the trap of blaming young Janey. Instead, think of what she went through. Someone attacked that poor lass and it was so traumatic she lost her memory of the event. When she made that statement she would have been suffering from shock, and wouldn’t have known what she was saying.’
‘If you ask me that Eddie Renfrew put those words in her mouth.’
‘Be that as it may, Mary, you’ll never be able to prove it. Let it be Mary. Jack’s accepted the fact that he’ll never be able to prove his innocence, and so must you.’
‘Never!’ Mary said fiercely. ‘Janey knows the truth and one day she’ll remember. When she does, she’ll want to clear his name.’
Douglas shrugged. ‘Well, we’ll have to find some way of keeping in touch, and wait, and hope.’
The only person Mary could think of to stay in touch with was Pamela Renfrew. Though reluctant, she was determined to see her before she left.
Leaving Douglas to board up the windows she took Janey’s seascape to Coombe Cottage. Pamela’s old Morris was parked in the drive but nobody answered the door.
Leaving the picture in the porch she wrote on the back of one of Douglas’ cards, Pamela, Please keep in touch, Mary Yates. She thrust it through the letterbox.
Arms folded over her chest, from behind the lace curtains of upstairs window Pamela watched the woman drive away.
* * * *
Six weeks after the trial Eddie Renfrew’s diary went missing from its hiding place.
Noel Chatterton called on him later in the day. He didn’t pull any punches. ‘I understand you have some incriminating photographs, Renfrew. If you hand them over without any fuss Mrs.. Wyman will allow you to resign with a reference, and a handsome pay off.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Amongst other things you’ll be charged with blackmail.’
‘What other things?’
‘Theft to start with; a large amount of cash has gone missing from your employer’s safe.’ His podgy hand hovered over the telephone receiver. ‘If the police are invited to investigate they’ll probably find it in your bank account.’
Eddie took the key to his safety deposit box and jiggled it on his finger. ‘You won’t mind if I check the amount it my account first?’
‘Of course not.’ Noel Chatterton gave a bland smile as he stood. ‘I suggest we visit your bank first, before it closes.’
The amount deposited to his account was generous – but not generous enough. ‘The negatives will cost a little extra, of course, Eddie murmured on the short stroll back across the park.
‘I thought they might.’ Noel slid a sealed envelope from his pocket. ‘This is for the extras. The negotiation is now over. Go and get my client’s package, there’s a good chap. I’ll wait for you here, in the park.’
He seated himself on the nearest bench.
Eddie was back within half an hour and they exchanged envelopes. Noel Chatterton compared photographs, and then shoved the envelope in his pocket. He relieved Eddie of his house keys. ‘You’ll find your suitcases in your car, and your car parked in Grosvenor Street. By the way ... you have a month in which to vacate your cottage.’
‘Toffee-nosed bastard,’ Eddie snarled. Ripping open the envelope he began to count the money. He didn’t see two men closing on his before it was too late. As he shot to his feet a fist in the stomach caused him to double over, and a boot caught him in the ribs. He was dragged behind some bushes and tried to cover his head with his hands as they set about him ...
A little while later, when Eddie managed to gather his wits together, he staggered to his feet. He’d been robbed, but at least they hadn’t broken any bones. Staggering to the water fountain he splashed water over his face and in his mouth, spitting it into the grass.
‘Don’t think you’ve got away with that,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve got copies of those photographs.’
* * * *
Half an hour earlier Pamela had returned from shopping to find the cottage in a shambles. There was nothing missing, so she didn’t call the police, though she had a good idea of what the intruders were looking for.
So when Eddie arrived home in a foul temper and told her to start packing, she wasn’t surprised. What did surprise her was the pleasure she experienced at seeing him so bruised and battered. A pity they hadn’t killed him, she thought, hiding a smile as she added insult to injury by telling him about the cottage being ransacked.
His face fell and his eyes became frantic.
She could have told him not to bother checking the roof space, but she didn’t. She enjoyed listening to him curse and scrambling around in the dust.
‘Later, when he found some excuse to hit her, it didn’t seem to hurt quite so much.’
* * * *
The news that they were leaving Winterbrook affected them in different ways.
Linda was excited because the Brown family had recently sold their property to a land development company that intended to build retirement bungalows in the area.
‘They’ve bought a house in Branksome Chine,’ Linda told her father. ‘It’s got six bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s only a short walk to the sea. Wendy said it’s heaps better than the house they live in now. She’s bragging madly about it.’
‘The one we’re moving into is just as big, but it’s on the cliff top in Bournemouth and overlooks the sea. It used to belong to your mother’s family, and we used to live there when you were little. Can you remember it?’
And odd little expression crossed Linda’s face and she hesitated ... then she shook her head slightly and said, ‘Not really. Wendy’s going to change schools. Can I go to the same one as her.’
When Eddie looked dubious, she pleaded, ‘You won’t have to pay boarding fees if I do, and I’ll be able to see you more often. Besides, the nuns are a bore and the uniform is a drag.’
‘Janey won’t have to change schools, she can hop on a bus,’ Pamela said brightly, but neither of them were listening. She was sorry to be leaving the village, and the thought of seeing Eddie every day made her feel sorrier still. She just had to reconcile herself to the fact that she had no money of her own and had Susie to look after.
Janey didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. Since her accident people had changed in a subtle, but unsettling manner. It was nothing she could put her finger on. They seemed to stare at her in the village and when she smiled at them they avoided her eyes. Sometimes the customers in the village shop would fall quite when she entered.
Annie Sutton had made a new best friend at school. Janey thought it might be because she’d won both the English and Arts award at prize-giving, when Annie didn’t win anything.
Mr. Wyman hadn’t changed, though he looked sad when she’d gone to the big house to say goodbye. He’d made her promise to write, and to visit him when she’d finished school and was properly grown up. He’d had her seascape framed, and it hung on his dining room wall.
Brenda hugged her tight and handed her a box of handkerchief with her initial embroidered on the corner. ‘We’ll miss you.’
Phil was in his shed, his back towards her. He was sharpening the curved blade of a scythe with a flat stone held in his palm. It keened along the blade with a thin metallic zinging noise that set her teeth on edge. She watched him work in a smooth fluid motion, waiting until he finished because she didn’t want to startle him into cutting himself.
Spitting on his thumb he ran it along the edge then gave a satisfied whistle as he hung the tool on a hook. Without turning round he said, ‘You’ll be leaving then, young Janey?’
‘I’ve come to say goodbye.’
He poured tea from a flask into two cups. ‘Y
ou won’t forget old Phil while you still have my memory in your head, I reckon.’
She suddenly felt miserable, and tears pricked her eyes as she sipped her tea. ‘Why do things have to change?’
‘You know why, Janey. Life is a journey.’
‘But what if you don’t want to go on a journey? What if you want things to stay exactly as they are?’
‘Is that what you want, Janey ... never to learn or experience life? Sometimes we have to move on so we can find ourselves.’ His eyes were on her, dark and intense, and filled with the mystery of the woods and the earth. ‘We all have our journey’s to take.’
‘I’m scared,’ she admitted, for she could always talk over her fears with Phil. ‘Sometimes I think I belong to this place, but then I’m not sure.’
He gave a glimmer of a smile. ‘This place will still be here when you are sure. Griff says you won’t be going for good, so saying goodbye is a waste of words.’ He jerked a thumb towards the bench. ‘He’s made you something to remember us by.’
It was a small wooden disk with a carving on, and attached to a leather thong. She ran a finger over the carved relief. It looked like a lion with wings and had the head of an eagle. ‘What is it?’
‘A mythological called a Griffin.’ Phil took it from her hands and tied it around her neck. ‘It will give you strength and courage in the years that come. Griff’s mother named him after it because she knew she wouldn’t be around to raise him.’
‘Did she die?’
‘She had a heart problem, though we didn’t know it until she was carrying our child. She went quick and easy not long after he was born.’
‘I’m glad you had Griff to love.’
‘It was a rare gift she left behind.’ He reached out a calloused hand and ruffled her hair. ‘Off you go now Janey. I’ll be seeing you.’
She knew she should go back home but the woodland beckoned to her. Autumn had come in a hurry and was now in its dying stage. The glorious colors had faded to brown and the trees were nearly bare. Leaves piled on leaves, decomposing, pressed into the earth by rain. The brooked choked on them and the air of decay depressed her.
She walked through it, making her way to the top of the hill where she gazed out over the sea. Here the sea was tangy with salt, alive with the pull of the tide. She laid on the ground and spread her arms, hugging the earth to her body.
‘I’m leaving.’
The ground was as cold as the wind on her face.
Feeling stupid and angry she scrambled to her feet. What had she expected, that the earth would talk to her, make everything as it was? That was kid’s stuff.
Yet as she walked back home the certainty grew in her. She did belong ... she always had. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to leave. She had a journey to take, and the sooner she started the sooner she’d return.
The wind changed direction as she passed the big house, pressing eagerly against her back. It sent the cockerel on the weather vane quivering towards the west.
She smiled.
Chapter Six
The cloth formed soapy circles on the green and white checked linoleum. Janey knew every inch of the floor, from the worn patch near the door to each pockmark left from the steel tips of Linda’s stiletto heels.
The house their mother had grown up in was large, but after two years she’d grown used to it.
It had taken her a long time to get used to Bournemouth, to the crowds of people who thronged through the town centre. Everyone seemed to be so busy and well-dressed, the cafes full of happy-looking people.
The summer holidaymakers brought with them an unexpected bonus. She’d discovered that if she went to the beach early and dragged a forked stick through the sand there was money to be found. Each coin she uncovered was carefully hoarded in her post office savings book. One day she intended to start painting again and it would buy her some paint and brushes.
Sometimes she visited a small art gallery situated near the large hotel on the other side of town. Entrance was free and it was filled with the most wonderful paintings. Her favorite was a battle scene with the central character on a horse, brandishing a cutlass. He looked like Lord William, her lead soldier. The grey mount he rode evoked a vague memory of a horse called Wellington.
Sometimes she woke with the smell of the countryside sharp in her nostrils, and wondered if the friends she’d left behind ever thought of her. But Coombe Cottage seemed so far in her past now, and although she wrote letters, neither Phil Tyler or Mr. Wyman answered them.
Linda was marrying Tim Brown tomorrow.
Settling back on her haunches she wrung out the grey flannel cloth that had once been her father’s vest. It was to be a white wedding, despite the circumstances. Her mouth slid into a wry grin. For once, Linda had been the object of his temper as he’d slapped her across the face and shrieked, ‘ You cheap little tramp, you’re only seventeen years old.’
He’d stormed off, returning later in a calmer mood, and with the smell of alcohol his breath. ‘It’s all arranged. You and the Brown boy will be married next month ... a small wedding, mind so don’t get any fancy notions. The pair of you will live here until Tom’s old enough to earn a decent wage.
Linda managed to get her own way about the wedding. Wendy would be maid of honor and four-year-old Susie would be her flower girl.
Releasing the twisted cloth she mopped up the remains of the suds and stood. It seemed a stupid exercise to clean the kitchen when it would be filled with caterers in the morning, but habit died hard. She always tidied the kitchen before she went to bed so it would be clean when Pamela cooked breakfast for the boarders.
The wedding reception was going to be held in a marquee in the garden, in case it rained. Drawing the curtains aside she gazed at the sky, clear and star-speckled. August wouldn’t dare rain on Linda’s wedding – it just wouldn’t.
On her way upstairs she heard Wendy and Linda giggling together.
Linda said, ‘My stepmother told the salesgirl in the bridal shop that Timothy was a good catch. How absolutely lower glass.’
‘I hope she’s not going to wear that blue suit. I’ll die laughing.’
‘Oh ... she won’t. My father gave her some money to buy a new dress. It’s pink crimplene with short sleeves and a sunray pleated skirt. She bought it in a sale and it looks hideous. It makes her bum look gigantic.’
‘I suppose your sister will look as though she’d walked out of a rag-bag. Honestly, she has no sense of style.’
Janey’s cheeks began to burn as she made her way to the room she shared with Susie. It wasn’t her fault she had nothing decent to wear. She’d had to leave school when she turned fifteen and didn’t get paid for the work she did in the boarding house.
‘What do you need money for?’ her father had said when she’d requested some pocket money. ‘You have a roof over your head and food in your stomach. Be content with that.’
What did she need money for? Lots of things. She’d like to buy some paints. She also needed some new shoes and a dress for the wedding. Then there was the question of a brassiere.
She gazed at the small breasts that had sprouted on her chest. Her period had started a few months ago. She wished she could afford the soft white pads that Linda used instead of folded linen squares fashioned from old sheets. They rubbed the inside of her thighs raw.
But she couldn’t tell her father about her intimate bodily functions, she thought, as she kissed Susie’s soft cheek and slid into bed. It would be too embarrassing.
* * * *
Pamela was in a flap the next morning. The caterers arrived just as she’d finished preparing the boarders’ breakfast trays.
Janey took them up to the three guests and patiently listened to the complaints of one who’d been woken by the caterer’s van. She made a few soothing noises.
‘I’m so sorry. They were not supposed to arrive for another hour.’
‘Mrs.. Brown arrived to help the bride and bridesmaids dress. Eager to oust P
amela from a role she’d never been asked to fill, her loud, overbearing manner soon had Susie in tears.
‘I told you it was a mistake having Susan as a flower girl. ‘Sit still girl! If you get dirty you’ll spoil the look of the wedding party.’
Janey’s temper began to burn when Susie gave a heart-rending sob and her eyes were fiery as she pushed open the door. ‘If you’d just stop shouting at her she’d be fine. Offering Mrs.. Brown a withering look she took Susie by the hand. ‘Leave her to me.’
‘Well I never,’ Mrs.. Brown spluttered. ‘Who does she think she is?’
‘Cinderella,’ Janey muttered under her breath, ‘And you’re the ugly stepmother.’
‘I don’t want to be a flower girl,’ Susie whined.
Squatting to her haunches Janey smiled at her. ‘You look beautiful, like a fairy princess. Did I ever tell you the story of sleeping beauty ...?
Susie was soon smiling again, and when it was time to leave for the church she handed her over to Wendy with the instruction. ‘Make sure she has a pee before you leave.’
Wendy gave Janey’s green checked dress a critical glance. ‘Is that what you’re going to wear?’
‘Yes.’
Pity filled her eyes. ‘Your father is a mean sod where you’re concerned, isn’t he?’ Look ... there’s a dress in my bag that should fit you, and I could arrange your hair better for you.’
Janey was tempted, but remembering Wendy’s hurtful remarks from the night before she determined that she wouldn’t be patronized. ‘Thanks, but I’m quite happy as I am.’
‘Please yourself.’ Wendy stalked away on her high heels with a pink-frilled Susie in tow.
The wedding went without a hitch. Linda looked prettily self-conscious, and beautiful in her white empire line dress. Her short veil was attached to a garland of daisies.
Tim Brown had an embarrassed look on his face as he mumbled his responses. He was sweating, and a lock of his slicked-back hair kept flopping on to his forehead.