Journey's End (12 page)

She paused. ‘But there was always Barney. Mother made sure I knew my father, she spoke of him all the time, until I could see him clearly in my mind’s eye; I felt as though I knew him as well as she did. There was never any other man for her. But Adam
is special. He knew Barney like a brother. Then afterwards, when Mother was left alone, Adam was there; he has grown old with her, and with every year his love for her has become stronger. I know, because I saw it, every day of my life.’

Ben was intrigued. ‘And now they’re together here, putting the past to rest.’

Their story was amazing, he thought. And now, he too was a part of it, and proud
to be so.

Chapter 8

T
HAT EVENING THEY
paid a visit to Dr Raymond Lucas, their former local doctor of twenty years ago. He knew all of them – Barney and his family, Lucy and Adam. The old man was delighted to see them. ‘Still the same pretty girl that went away,’ he said, kissing Lucy on the cheek.

She laughed. ‘You old flatterer, you. That girl is long gone. What you see before you is a woman past her
prime, carrying a stick and aching from top to toe. I feel as if I’ve climbed mountains today,’ she groaned. ‘Oh, but it’s so good to see you.’ She thought he had not aged too well. His skin was creased and leathery, his hair almost all gone, and his shoulders had sagged, but his smile and friendly manner were the same.

‘You already know Adam Chives?’ She brought him forward. ‘My dearest friend
and confidant.’

The elderly physician shook hands with Adam. ‘It’s been a long time,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you brought her to see me … thank you.’

Adam chuckled. ‘It’s more a case of Lucy bringing
me
,’ he declared. ‘What Lucy wants, Lucy gets. But I’m so glad we’re here. To my mind, this visit is long overdue.’

Drawing Mary forward, Lucy was proud to tell him, ‘This is Mary … mine and Barney’s
daughter.’

The old man was visibly taken aback. ‘Good heavens above! She has a definite look of him.’ He held out his hand in friendship. ‘You were a beautiful child and you’ve grown into a lovely woman. Your father would have been proud of you.’

Mary thanked him and linking her arm with Ben’s she explained, ‘This is Ben, my fiancé. We plan to wed very soon.’

‘Then we must celebrate!’ Tugging
on the bell-rope by the fireplace, Dr Lucas summoned the housekeeper. ‘Lizzie, are you able to squeeze another four in for dinner?’

Lizzie did not hesitate. ‘Of course,’ she replied indignantly. ‘Don’t I always make extra, and isn’t there always enough of this or that in the pantry to conjure up a fine meal?’ Large-boned and formidable, she gave the appearance of being an ogre, when in fact they
discovered afterwards that she was a real gem, and that the doctor valued her above all else.

Lucy was horrified at the doctor’s suggestion. ‘We can’t put you both to all that trouble, and besides, we’re not dressed for a social occasion.’

Dr Lucas would hear none of it. ‘You look all right to me,’ he protested. ‘You’re here now and we’ve so much to talk about. There’s a great deal I want to
ask, and besides, I need to make the acquaintance of your daughter and her good fellow.’

And so it was settled.

Brushing aside Lucy and Mary’s offer of help, Lizzie advised them firmly, ‘I was a master cook in my time. Worked in a top hotel, I did! At times we were lucky if we got half an hour’s notice to prepare food for upwards of sixty guests; hard work, but good training. Ever since then,
I’ve always been prepared, never caught offguard, and if the spare food isn’t eaten, it’ll always warm up and do for another day.’ That understood, she marched out and set about preparing the meal.

‘I’ve never dared to argue with her,’ the doctor confided jokingly. ‘And I don’t mind telling you, she frightens the life out of me at times. But she’s worth her weight in gold. A real treasure, she
is.’

After making sure they were settled and comfortable in the drawing room, he poured them each a drink; a gin and tonic for Lucy, a glass of sherry for Mary, and a measure of whisky each for Ben and Adam.

‘That’ll warm the cockles of your hearts,’ he remarked jovially.

For the next half hour they discussed anything and everything from the old days, content just to reminisce. At first the
talk was light-hearted and there was much laughter. But then the talk grew serious, and the doctor recalled how, ‘I was devastated when it was discovered that Barney was so ill. Of course, I couldn’t tell anyone. Barney made me promise not to, but even so, I have an oath to my profession, so of course I couldn’t tell … not even when I saw him falling apart.’

He sighed from his boots. ‘What happened
to Barney was tragic,’ he muttered. ‘In all my years as a doctor, I have never seen a man so hellbent on hiding his condition from his family; especially when he desperately needed them, more than at any other time in his entire life.’

He glanced at Lucy, who had been intently listening to him. ‘I found his actions so hard to comprehend. I could understand why he was reluctant to tell them how
ill he was until the last possible moment, but to make them hate him! To deliberately make them believe he was a drunk and a womaniser; to alienate himself from the family he doted on, so they would embark on a new life without him. Dear God! I can only imagine what that must have done to a man like Barney … so in love with his wife, and doting on his children the way he did. Anyone could see how
Barney’s family were his entire world.’

He glanced at Mary. ‘Your father was a remarkable man.’

‘I’m beginning to realise that more and more.’ Mary answered him softly, her thoughts taking her back to the daddy she remembered, the kindly man who would sit her on his knee and enthral her with magical tales.

An anger took hold of her. ‘He needed them so much! Why didn’t he tell them how ill he
was? He should have told them. HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD THEM!’

‘No, Mary.’ Lucy calmed her. ‘You’re so wrong, my darling.’ Lucy herself had often wondered why Barney did not put himself first, especially when he was so desperately ill. Deep down though, she knew he had done the right thing – for his family if not for himself. ‘If he had told them how ill he was, they would have stayed. They would
have seen him suffer the way I saw him suffer, day and night, hurting, fading away until he was like a helpless baby.’

She paused and swallowed, then went on in hushed tones: ‘After they were gone, he was so lonely. He would have given anything for it not to have happened. He desperately needed Vicky and the children to be with him to the end, to support and help him, and lift his spirits when
he was down.’

‘Then why didn’t he tell them?’

‘Because he was a bigger man than that. He sent them away, out of love. He knew he was not able to go with them; that the opportunity had been cruelly snatched from him. But, by turning them against him, he gave them all their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a chance to go to America and build the kind of life they would never be able to find here.’

Adam intervened. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how he must have suffered, to see his beloved family sail away without him. Barney Davidson loved his family like no other man I know. Yet he made them believe that he didn’t care for them any more – that he despised them. He wanted them to believe that he was rotten to the core, a drunkard who preferred the company of street-women to his own darling
wife.’

He took another swig of his whisky. ‘God only knows where a man could find the strength to do a thing like that.’

The talk now focused on Barney’s family, with the doctor asking, ‘His daughter Susie will be what …’ He did a mental calculation, ‘… thirty-five, six?’

‘Older, I think,’ Lucy answered. ‘Ronnie would be about thirty-nine, and Thomas, a couple of years older.’ She shook her
head in disbelief. ‘It seems incredible. In my mind’s eye I still see them as young people. I often wonder, if I saw them in the street, would I even recognise them?’

She thought of Barney’s wife, that lovely, vivacious creature he adored, and her heart was sore. ‘As for Vicky, she was a few years older than me.’ Adding up the years, she was shocked. ‘Good Lord! She must be well into her sixties
by now.’

‘Do you think they’ve made good, the way Barney hoped they would?’ That was Mary’s question.

Lucy pondered for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘No doubt Susie will have gone on to be a designer of sorts. Thomas was always the shrewd businessman – there was a lot of Barney in Thomas. As for Ronnie, well, I wouldn’t like to say. He was headstrong and never seemed to have a particular direction
in his life, and after what happened with Barney and everything, I don’t know. There was a lot of bitterness in the end. Who can tell how they all survived the trauma of what happened?’

Mary acknowledged her mother’s words with a thoughtful nod of the head. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

The old doctor remembered each family member with affection, but as he recalled,
Barney’s wife was an exceptionally delightful creature. ‘Vicky has managed to survive intact, I believe. Marriage to Leonard Maitland has given her security and companionship.’

Lucy said stoutly, ‘Yes, Vicky would have kept them all together. She was strong in nature, and very protective of them all. On that last day when she came to see Barney, it was to plead with him. Even after all he had
done, she was ready to forgive him. But he played his part well. He sent her away, and that must have broken her heart; it certainly broke his. But, yes! I think somehow or another, Vicky would have kept them all going despite their problem.’

‘You did know that Leonard Maitland was in love with Vicky?’ the doctor said.

Lucy smiled. ‘I think most people knew that – even Barney. He would tease
Vicky about it. But it made no difference to either of them, because they had eyes only for each other.’

She imparted a secret she had kept for too long. ‘One day, soon after Mary was born, Barney and I were sitting outside on the swing, when he spoke of Leonard. He told me how he had always known Leonard was a good man, that he had confided in Leonard and made him swear never to tell anyone
the truth. He also said that he had asked Leonard to take care of Vicky, and marry her when he was dead, because he knew how much in love with her he was.’

Adam nodded. ‘Knowing that Leonard had promised to take care of Vicky would have given Barney some peace of mind.’

During the course of the conversation, they touched on most things. There was talk of Lucy writing to Vicky, and she said it
was something she had to do, and very soon.

‘One thing at a time though,’ she said. ‘Coming here has taken up all my energy. But I have it in mind to contact Vicky.’ She looked at the old doctor. ‘I haven’t been able to write before, because I had no way of knowing where they were. But I have a sneaking feeling that you have their address. Am I right, Doctor Lucas?’

A shy little smile crept
over his features. ‘You’ve caught me out,’ he admitted. ‘I do have the address of Leonard’s office in Boston. On the day he sailed for America, he said if there was anything that Barney needed, I was to let him know straightaway.’

He gave a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘Of course, I never asked him for anything. Firstly because Barney would not have wanted me to, and secondly, because there was absolutely
nothing that Leonard could have done for him. When all was said and done, I thought it best to cut away from them, for the family’s sake, and because Barney had gone to such horrendous lengths to make sure they would not come back.’

‘Would you mind giving me the address?’

‘Not at all. I know exactly where I have it.’ He struggled out of his chair and picked up his stick. ‘In fact, I may as well
find it now, and then we can simply enjoy our evening together.’

As he went from the room, Mary crossed to the window and peered out. ‘Such an interesting garden,’ she observed. ‘I do love the conservatory.’ Stroking her chin with the tips of her fingers, she mused aloud, ‘I wonder if there might be space for us to have one built at home?’

When she beckoned for the others to come and see, Lucy
and Ben made their way over to join her. Adam, however, had other ideas. Leaving the room, he stood a while in the hallway, listening intently. When he heard the doctor muttering and moaning, he followed the sound down the passage towards the old man’s study, and tapped on the open door. ‘Do you think we could have a word?’ he asked as the doctor swung round to face him.

‘But of course. Come
in!’

Adam thought he had never seen such a chaotic room.

The study was piled high with boxes of old files and documents; boxes on the desk, boxes against the wall, and more boxes on top of the filing cabinets. ‘I’m always meaning to set about tidying this place up,’ the old man explained, ‘but somehow, I never seem to get round to it. Lizzie kindly offered to sort it all out, but I can’t let
her loose on this little lot. The poor darling would not know what goes where, or how to decipher half of it. Besides, most of these are patients’ private records. They need to be carefully gone through and meticulously filed, and that’s my job.’

He carried on muttering as he threw boxes out of the way. Then: ‘There it is!’ Digging into one of the half-open desk-drawers, he waved a piece of paper
in the air. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be far away.’

‘I just need a minute of your time, if that’s all right?’ Adam thought that Raymond Lucas was more like an absent-minded professor than a doctor.

‘Sorry!’ He sat on the edge of the desk. ‘You have my full attention now, so please fire away. What’s on your mind?’

‘May I close the door?’

Dr Lucas frowned. ‘If you must, yes … close it.’

Adam quietly
did so. ‘It’s just that I wouldn’t want Lucy to overhear this.’

‘Well, go on then, man! What is it?’

‘It’s just that, well, as you have the contact address for Leonard, I wondered if you might also have information regarding another ghost from the past.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Edward Trent … the man who caused little Jamie’s drowning. Lucy still has nightmares about that. She doesn’t know whether
he’s alive or dead, or even if he might turn up at any minute. So, if it turned out that somebody had finished him off, it would give us all some peace of mind.’