Songbird (36 page)

It was nearly midnight when Ellen disembarked at East Cowes. After traveling all day, with a heavy baby, an even heavier bag, and a pushchair, she was exhausted, but keeping going on pure adrenaline. Fortunately, a kindly steward from the ferry helped her find a taxi, recommending a good boardinghouse along the coast at Ryde, eight miles away.

“It’s called Seaview House,” he told her. “I’ve used it many a time myself when family visit. The landlady there loves kids, so you’ll be fine. She has fourteen grandchildren herself, scattered all over the island. Off you go, love — I’ll phone her if you like, let her know you’re on your way. She’s a nightbird, so she’ll still be up. What name shall I say? Mrs. Drew? I’ll do that right away. Have a lovely holiday, won’t you. See you on the return trip!” And off he went to make the call, after giving the taxi driver the full details.

Ellen was a bit anxious about whether there would be vacancies at Seaview House, and she confided this in the taxi driver, who told her: “It should be fine, love. The season hasn’t really got going properly yet.” This comforted the young woman, as she began to rehearse the story she would tell.

Ryde seemed like a beautiful place, from what Ellen could see in the back seat of the taxi in the middle of the night. Her senses quickened with jubilation. She had really done it! Got away and covered her tracks.

Mrs. Simpson was a friendly, barrel-shaped woman wearing a large green dressing gown and with a cigarette between her fingers. She helped Ellen out of the taxi and into her little office off the main hall of the hotel. Ellen had her story ready.

“I’ll need a room for at least a month,” she told Mrs. Simpson. “I’ve just gone through a nasty divorce. The house was sold, everything is gone. But I did secure a decent settlement. So now, I’m here to have a little holiday and to decide a future for my baby and myself.”

“Divorces are sad things.” The large woman spoke from experience. “One of my own daughters has just split from her husband and it’s heartbreaking for the children. You do right to take a breather. All I need is for you to let me know what you decide, just so’s I can organize my bookings. But there’s no hurry. Take your time, and enjoy the island. And now let me show you and the young feller-me-lad to your room. It’s a nice big one, with a cot and its own bathroom, so you should be in your element. I can let you have it at a special weekly off-season rate, too!”

“Oh, thank you,” Ellen said gratefully, following the landlady’s broad rear up to the first landing.

“There’s a kettle in your room and I’ll bring you up some leftover sandwiches from supper. Just let me know if the baby needs anything.” Flinging open the door of No. 3, she ushered Ellen inside. It was perfect.

A month should be plenty of time to work out our future, Ellen thought tiredly. By then, her little note should have done its work, and the dust would have settled.

She fully realized that the note she had delivered so callously, was like a signed death warrant. But that was exactly what she wanted because with Maddy alive, her chances of hanging on to Michael were slim to none.

Now, she simply wanted Maddy out of the way for good. After all, Maddy had caused her own problems, whereas the baby had done nothing wrong.

With that in mind, and the child secure with her, she hardened her heart to her friend the Songbird’s fate.

Not for one moment, did she give any regard to the possibility that, one day, Michael might discover the terrible thing she had done to his mother.

Maddy had kissed
young Robin goodbye and sat him down in front of children’s TV with a tray of Marmite sandwiches, and a Cadbury’s choc roll, next to a big mug of milk.

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” she told him. “I’m just popping home to have a bath. Be a good boy, eh?”

Maddy was just opening her front door when she caught sight of Brad. Dressed in thigh-length fishing leathers, and carrying his keep-net and basket, she didn’t need to ask him where he was off to.

He hurried over and hugged her. “After a day cleaning out clogged-up ditches, I had a hankering to sit by a cool river and catch a plump fish,” he told her. “So I just threw on my galoshes, and grabbed my fishing gear. I hope you don’t mind keeping an eye on the boy while I’m gone. I’ll have a long hot bath when I get back.” Stretching out, he stroked her face. “You’re amazing, my darling Sheelagh. It doesn’t matter how tired you are, or how grubby and covered in straw, you always manage to look beautiful.”

Maddy had always been aware that she was no real beauty, although she used to scrub up well at the Pink Lady. But now she thought of her face, devoid of makeup, with her hair all unkempt, and knew she looked like something the cat had dragged in. “Beautiful?” she laughed. “I don’t think so.”

He strolled with her to the cottage. “Are you sure you and Rob don’t want to come fishing with me?”

Maddy declined graciously. “No, because he’s settled and I want my bath, but thanks all the same. I’ll see you later though, won’t I? You said we would spend a cozy evening in together — me, you and Robin. That’s still all right, isn’t it?”

His full-on kiss told her it was more than all right.

“I want you to stay the night,” he whispered in her ear, making her blush. “I’ll only be gone for an hour or so,” he went on. “Oh, and apparently, Sue has made us one of her famous steak pies. She’ll be here any minute, so there’s no need to rush your bath. Young Dave will keep Robin amused.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Maddy replied, “how about if I cook a few roast potatoes and a fresh cabbage to go with it?”

“Sounds good to me.” Whistling for Donald, who came rushing out of the house as if his tail was on fire, then slithered to a comic halt in front of him, Brad told Maddy, “I’ll see you later then.” Another kiss, and he was striding away with Donald running and leaping at his heels.

As she watched him go, Maddy marveled at how easy she and Brad were with each other. Yes, their love was wonderfully passionate at times. But there was more to a true relationship than sexual excitement, and she and Brad seemed to have found it — a deep and lasting commitment which, God willing, would carry them right through their lives together. She knew that tonight, she would have to reveal to him the truth of who she really was — the Songbird, the Pink Lady, ex-lover of a London thug and mother of a darling six-month-old baby boy. But she felt sure that Brad would take all of this in his stride. At least, she fervently hoped so, for Ellen must already be packing for the journey tomorrow.

In spite of the many setbacks she had endured, Maddy counted herself among the lucky ones. She and Brad had found each other, and that was amazing. The very thought of becoming his wife was what made her days joyous — that, and the prospect of having her son with her again.

Whenever she closed her eyes she could see his face so clearly, that tiny, baby face with those trusting eyes. But he was months older than when she last saw him, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he would remember her. Yet she could not let herself think like that. All she wanted was to love him, and watch over him, as a mother should.

Once inside the cottage, Maddy locked the door and went upstairs for a bath. She lay in the hot soapy water, thinking and worrying, about Ellen, and Michael, and the consequences of confessing to Brad this evening. Dressed and back downstairs, she glanced at the wall clock. Ellen had said she would let her know what time she and Michael would arrive at the station in Bedford. A small, niggling worry began to gnaw at her.

What if she had somehow put them in danger? What if Drayton’s men were watching Ellen, and followed her here?

She grew so concerned that she abruptly leaped to her feet deciding, I have to tell Ellen not to come! She needs to stay put and keep on her toes, until we think of some other way.

Try as she might, Maddy could not rid herself of a sense of danger. She didn’t know what it meant, or why she should suddenly feel this way, especially after she and Ellen had talked it through. All she knew was that Ellen and Michael must abort the journey.

A few minutes later, having donned her boots and long cardigan, she glanced toward the main house and saw Sue’s car parked there, so she knew Robin was all right. Brad wouldn’t be back for a while, so she herself wouldn’t be needed just yet.

Since this was a highly confidential phone call, Maddy could not use Brad’s home phone. She preferred to use the callbox on the village green.

The walk to the telephone booth usually took ten minutes, depending on country traffic using the narrow lanes. This evening though, the lanes seemed busier than ever, with cars and lorries, a cart piled high with logs, a horse and rider, and a group of ramblers who stopped her to ask the way.

“Got to make a detour,” Maddy muttered, “or it’ll be midnight before I get to talk with her.”

Cutting off to the right, she ran across the field and down the steep incline, before veering off up the bank toward the outer rim of the village. The telephone booth was situated at the bottom of Pound Hill.

It was not the easiest nor the shortest route, but except for the lanes, it was the only one she knew.

By the time she got to the red kiosk, the evening was already closing in. Delving into her jeans pocket, she found the necessary coins, and slotted them into the machine; the smaller ones instantly rolled out and she was about to run up to the pub and ask for change, but on a second try, the coins clicked in.

Anxiously, she dialed the number and waited; it rang and rang, and went on ringing, and still there was no reply. “That’s odd!” Maddy recalled how Grandad sometimes went out to play dominoes of an evening with his pals. But Ellen should be there, babysitting Michael. “Come on, Ellen, where are you?” she muttered frantically.

Impatient, she began hopping from one foot to the other. “Ellen, it’s me. Answer the phone!” she prayed. She let it ring for a few minutes, then, wondering if she had misdialed, she replaced the receiver, picked up her coins and started all over again.

When there was still no answer, she began to think all manner of worrying things, then tried to calm herself. There was bound to be an explanation. Then she had another, more disturbing thought. Oh no! Don’t say you’ve already left to come here… Oh please, please, still be there. But she obviously wasn’t, and Maddy was beside herself.

Maybe Ellen was next door with Nosy Nora? Yes, that was it! She’d have gone next door. Sometimes the old dear would get herself into a pickle. Either one of her light-bulbs had blown and she couldn’t reach to put another one in, or her cooker had gone on the blink, and Grandad and Ellen had to sort it out.

Frustrated, yet trying hard to convince herself that all was well, Maddy dropped the coins back into her pocket. Knowing Nora, Ellen could be round there for an hour and more, especially if their neighbor started on about her youth, and all the escapades she got up to then.

Maddy hung about for a while, before trying yet again, without success. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was time to go round to Brad’s farmhouse. Maybe she could use Brad’s phone after all. He had offered before, but the last thing she wanted was for him to get the gist of her conversations with Ellen.

This time she had little choice. I’ll just have to make certain I’m not overheard, she decided.

The car was silent and smooth as it cruised the narrow lanes near Brighill Farm. Inside, the two men kept watch, intent on their mission. “Pull over!” The driver was a bony-faced man with thick fair hair and baby-blue eyes; softly-spoken, he could have been mistaken for a true gentleman. But behind the polished veneer, he was a cold-hearted villain with an insatiable appetite for money and power.

The passenger was hard-faced and hard-cored; possessed of a cold heart and vengeful nature. “What’s wrong, boss?”

“Check that address again — and don’t put the light on. There’s a small reading light in the glove compartment. Cover it with your hand, we don’t want it showing.”

Quickly locating the light, the man in the passenger seat bent his head to examine the address. “Brighill Lane — yes, this is it, gov. We’re on the right track.”

“And have you committed her description to memory, like I said?”

The other man softly laughed. “Oh yeah. Right down to her pretty brown eyes.”

“So now, we’re looking for Brighill Cottage. Check it!”

The address was swiftly checked and confirmed, and so the car quietly glided further down the lane; both men with their eyes peeled for Maddy Delaney’s hiding place.

Disappointed and deeply apprehensive about Ellen and baby Michael, Maddy trudged home. It was almost dark now, and very lightly spattering with rain. With nothing to keep her dry should the rain come down harder, she quickened her step across the fields.

She was now back on the road, and halfway along the lane,
as she walked under the light of the street lamp, they saw her
, from where they were parked in the shadows on the opposite side of the lane.

“Seems like our luck’s in,” the driver said. “Get out and slip across the other side of the lane before she gets too close. Quick, man! And remember — don’t let her see you! And don’t make a move until I give you the nod. I need to make certain it’s her. If it is, for Chrissake make sure you gag her before she starts screaming and shouting. The last thing we need is one of the neighbors raising the alarm!”

While Maddy was still passing in the light of the lamp, he shoved the other man out. “Stay hidden… be ready!” He kept his gaze intent in the rearview mirror, watching Maddy as she drew closer, and the more he could see of her, the more he knew it was Drayton’s woman; the distinctive sexy walk, the slim, boyish figure and that long rich hair. “Saw you in the club many a time,” he growled, “but you never had time for a nobody like me, did you, eh? Bitch!”

Satisfied that the other man had slipped unseen to the other side of the lane, he gestured for him to stay back.