Lovers Meeting (37 page)

Tom had never heard of Hubert Smurthwaite. He disengaged his arm from Susie’s grip and pressed a sovereign into her hand. ‘That will help tide you over.’

Susie called after him, ‘Gawd bless you, Captain, you and that Josie!’

‘Thank you!’ Tom returned to his ship, whistling happily, and sat down at his desk to smile at the photograph of Josie. Then he started to write to her.

At noon, the steward tapped at the door of Tom’s cabin and entered to announce, ‘A gentleman has just come aboard, sir, a Mr Albert Harvey.’ He laid Harvey’s card on the desk and added hastily, ‘He’s not boarding until tomorrow, but as he was close by he thought he would like to renew your acquaintance, sir.’

‘I remember Mr Harvey.’ Tom nodded. ‘Show him in and bring us some sherry, please. He can have lunch with me.’

‘Captain Collingwood!’ Harvey greeted him warmly, hand outstretched. And as Tom shook it: ‘Delighted you have been appointed to command her. I’m proud to say that I wrote to the directors months ago, after I came over with you the last time, saying how much you had impressed me. A lot of the other chaps who make regular crossings did the same.’

Tom grinned. ‘Thank you. I’m grateful.’

They chatted as they sipped the sherries poured by the steward, and afterwards as they ate lunch in the saloon. They returned to Tom’s day cabin for coffee and Harvey glanced around, taking in the space and comfort. Then he leaned forward to look more closely at the photograph on Tom’s desk. ‘You know Josie?’ he asked, mildly surprised.

Tom said, ‘Mrs Miller?’

Harvey blinked. ‘I didn’t know she was married.’

‘Widowed,’ Tom explained.

‘Oh dear,’ and Harvey shook his head sadly. ‘I haven’t seen her for six or seven years. That was when I went to her mother’s funeral. She was Josie Langley then.’

Tom stared disbelievingly, then said, ‘The child in the photograph is my ward, Charlotte Langley.’

Harvey asked innocently, ‘Any relation?’ Then added, before Tom could answer, ‘I’ve known Josie since she was about that age.’ He peered at Charlotte, then said with a bashful grin, ‘I tell you, I proposed to Josie’s mother but she wouldn’t have me.’ Then he told Tom the history of Josie Langley as told to him by her mother. How she and David Langley had meant to sail for America but had to bring the ailing Josie ashore at the last moment, then David’s sudden death and her letter to old William Langley informing him of this.

Tom exclaimed, ‘But he received no letter! He went to his grave believing David and his family were lost with that emigrant ship!’

‘Good God!’ Harvey sucked in a breath. Then he went on, telling how Josie had grown up in the Urquhart house and service. Tom listened intently, at the same time trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts.

Harvey had barely finished when Tom’s steward put his head around the door to say, apologetically, ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Seaman Bickerstaffe would like to see you; says it’s urgent.’

Tom answered absently, ‘Yes, I’ll see him.’

Dougie Bickerstaffe edged into the cabin cautiously, cap in hand, unused to this splendour. He laid the letter on the desk. ‘Sorry, sir. Mrs Miller said I was to give this to you today but I’ve just remembered.’

The letter was no more than a single sheet and began simply: ‘My Dear’. It went on to tell how Josie had used the name ‘Mrs Miller’ because of fear of her grandfather, and had stayed on to care for Charlotte. How she had put off telling the truth because she was afraid she would be thought guilty of trying to take Charlotte’s inheritance. And finished, ‘I can no longer maintain a pretence I should never have begun. I send you this letter because I cannot tell you the truth and face your doubt and distrust. You have all my love and I wish you well. Goodbye, Josie Langley.’

Tom looked at his watch then ran from the cabin, leaving Albert Harvey and Dougie Bickerstaffe staring.

Josie was at the party that evening from its beginning, of course. It was held in a big shed in the Langley yard, and with the other women she laid out the food she had helped prepare. She organised the children’s games and later led off the dancing, to a fiddle and piano, with Dan Elkington. Kitty muttered, ‘Pity that Tom Collingwood isn’t here.’ Josie managed to smile. Kitty was enjoying herself, and had obviously changed her mind about deserting the party early. If challenged she would doubtless claim that she had to ‘show the flag’ as a partner in the Langley Shipping Company, but she would stay until ten, no doubt of that. And equally she would return to the Langley house then, because she had promised Annie. She was rocking the baby’s pram now.

Josie finally left at twenty minutes past eight, after a long succession of farewells that almost reduced her to tears, but she had to put a brave face on it and held them back. She walked back to the Langley house, leading a reluctant but yawning Charlotte by the hand. The last hours of forced gaiety had exhausted Josie, but she still had to chatter brightly to jolly the child along. She told herself she had done some good with Charlotte. When Josie had first met her she had been grief-racked and insecure after losing her parents, her grandfather, even Rhoda, who had been a substitute for them, albeit a poor one. Now she was happy and confident after a year of loving. Josie would miss Charlotte and the child would miss her, but Charlotte was fond of Annie, Kitty and Tom. In time she would get over Josie’s leaving. But Josie?

Darkness had swept in from the sea and when they entered the square it was deserted under the few gaslights, one set at each corner. It was quiet, the riveting hammers in the shipyards stilled. The tall cranes loomed unmoving, cut in black silhouette like gallows in the night. The house stretched across the back of the square, dark and silent. As she led the sleepy Charlotte around the square there was not a soul to be seen, not a sound from any of the houses; everyone had gone to the party.

Josie had no need to plan any longer because it was all done. Her suitcase was packed and waiting in the hall. She had been the last to leave the house to go to the party and had brought the case down then. She had ordered a cab for ten o’clock. When Kitty returned Charlotte would be asleep and Josie would leave her in the old woman’s care. She would tell Kitty that she had to go away on family business. It was the excuse she had used before, but it would have to do. She was too tired to invent another. Kitty would suspect it was only an excuse but that didn’t matter because Josie would be gone. She had posed as Mrs Miller, acting out a lie, day in and day out, for almost a year now. She could go on no longer. And she had come here and found the man she loved, but too late.

There was a train leaving Monkwearmouth at 10.38 p.m. and Josie would be on it. She could afford an emigrant’s passage to America and would try to make a fresh start there. Tom Collingwood would be at sea by now and would have read her letter. He would know that she had deceived him from the beginning. Probably he would tear up the letter and forget Mrs Miller.

She used her key to open the front door and passed through with Charlotte clinging to her hand in the darkness. As Josie groped for the matches on the side table she thought that the darkness was somehow not total, that there might be some light from the square outside filtering in through the front door which still stood ajar. She scraped the match and held its flame to the gas mantle above her and in that instant realised that a faint radiance came from the direction of the kitchen. Then the gas lit with a soft
plop
! The front door slammed shut behind her, a hand clamped over her mouth and a knife was laid across her throat.

‘Keep still and keep quiet!’ The voice came in her ear, his breath stirring the soft auburn hair on her neck. Josie could not keep still, her body shuddering from his touch and that of the knife. Out of the corner of her eye, looking down, she could see Charlotte, frightened and beginning to cry, her hand still gripped by Josie. Then the knife was whipped from her throat and laid against Charlotte’s back. The voice said, ‘Hold on to her and do as I say, for her sake.’

Josie knew it was not just a voice, knew who it was, who it had to be: Reuben Garbutt, who had tried to murder her before. But he was supposed to be in hiding on the Continent, not in this country, this house, with his hands on her body. She quailed and then Garbutt said, ‘In the kitchen.’ He urged her forward and she obeyed on shaking legs, leading Charlotte along by the hand. The child did not attempt to run, only clung more fiercely to Josie’s hand in her terror.

Josie pushed open the kitchen door with her free hand and the faint radiance she had seen was explained: the door to the cellar was open and a weak light came from down there. It had shown as no more than a slit under the closed kitchen door. Something else was also explained: a pane of one of the sash windows was broken, the window unclipped and shoved open. That was how Garbutt had got in. And in the light from the cellar she could see that the hose Dan Elkington used to wash down the back yard was fitted to the tap on the kitchen sink. It led across the floor and disappeared down the cellar steps.

Now Garbutt turned her towards the cellar. ‘Down there.’ Josie instinctively revolted for a moment, tried to halt, but then she saw a twitch of the knife set the blade to winking in the light from the cellar. Garbutt had said, ‘Do as I say, for her sake.’ Josie gave in, passed through the door and started down the steps to the cellar. As she went she found the hose lying beside her faltering feet, and sometimes it slid dank and cold against her ankle like a snake. She heard Garbutt close the door behind them.

Before she reached the foot of the stairs she found the water. The light came from the oil lamp that had been brought down from the top of the stairs and stood on a shelf at eye level. It reflected from the water that lay across the floor of the cellar. There was no sound of it running because the end of the hose lay below its surface. Josie stepped down into it, her skirts lifting as it rose above her knees. Charlotte whimpered and Garbutt hesitated, for a moment uncertain what to do about her. Then he said, ‘Let go of her. Tell her to sit down here. Don’t bother shouting because nobody will hear you down here.’ He switched the knife to Josie’s throat and took his hand from her mouth.

Tongue thick in her mouth, she said, ‘Sit there, Charlotte, please, there’s a good girl.’ Charlotte obeyed, unhappily, and sat on the steps above the water with tears in her eyes.

Now Garbutt thrust Josie into the middle of the cellar, both of them wading, until they stood by the central timber pillar. He said, ‘Put your arms round it.’ Josie, under the threat of the blade that pricked her flesh, had to do as he said and stood with her face to the pillar, arms outstretched before her on either side of it. Garbutt fumbled in his pocket with his free hand.

Josie whispered, ‘Please, why are you doing this? I’ve done nothing to harm you.’

‘The Langleys have and you’ve taken their side, tried to help them up when I’d put them down.’ Garbutt yanked a length of thin chain from his pocket and began to knot it around Josie’s wrists. ‘The Langleys murdered my father or as good as, when old Billy Langley sacked him and he had to leave this town. That’s what killed him. So I swore they’d pay for it. I ran down James.’ He heard Josie’s gasp of horror and laughed madly. ‘Aye! And his wife – I caught them together. Then I bankrupted the firm and that finished the old man.’ He yanked on the chain, ensuring it was tight. It bit into Josie’s flesh and she cried out. Now her wrists were lashed together and he pulled a padlock from his pocket.

Josie pleaded, ‘But I didn’t know anything of this – how your father died – I had nothing to do with it.’

‘He drowned, that’s what the doctor said,’ Garbutt snarled, and slipped the padlock’s hasp through the links of the chain. He inserted the key and turned it, retrieved it and tested what was now a rough but efficient pair of handcuffs. ‘He died o’ pneumonia and the doctor said he drowned with the fluid on his lungs.’ He released the lock and chain but leaned one hand on the baulk of timber as he shoved his face close to hers and shouted, ‘And that’s how you’re going to go!’

Tom Collingwood caught the 2.20 p.m. train out of King’s Cross – just. He ran from the ticket office as the guard’s whistle shrilled and sprinted past the gaping ticket collector as the train pulled away. He stretched out one long arm to seize the handle by the guard’s open door and leapt for the step. He caught it with a toe and hauled himself into the guard’s van, to be told sternly, ‘You ain’t supposed to do that’ – then, with a glance at the four gold rings on Tom’s sleeve – ‘Captain.’

At Newcastle, Tom changed to the local train to Sunderland. He jumped down from it before it stopped at Monkwearmouth station. He ran through to the street and stood between the massive columns at the entrance, head turning, searching, but there wasn’t a cab to be seen. He had deduced that if Josie had told Dougie Bickerstaffe to give her letter to him on Saturday it was because she thought he would be at sea and unable to prevent her leaving. So she would still be in Monkwearmouth, and as she would want to leave quietly, without fuss, it would not be before the party.

He gave up the hunt for a cab and started to run across Bridge Street. It was then that he saw the cab turning out of Barclay Street to head towards the town.

He yelled, ‘
Cabbie
!’ The driver sat up on his box with a jerk, woken from a reverie. Then he saw Tom running towards him and reined in the horse. Tom jumped in. He was certain where he would find Josie and ordered, ‘Take me to Langley’s yard! Quick as you can!’

Garbutt shouted, ‘And that’s how you’re going to go!’ He had released Josie’s chain-bound wrists and reached forward with his left hand – the right held the knife – and locked his fingers in her hair. He dragged her closer to the timber pillar that stood between them and her head cracked against it. For a second the cellar rocked around her, then was still again. Josie could see the madness in Garbutt’s eyes, only inches away. And she could see Charlotte sitting on the steps, petrified. Josie knew she had to save her. In desperation and fear she jabbed her thumbs into Garbutt’s eyes.