The Journey (41 page)

The kiss was gentle. The lovemaking that followed was fumbled and tender, and Lucy gave herself to him with all her heart.

Afterward, they held each other, and Lucy cried, and he comforted her. “We belong together, you and me,” he whispered. “We could never be as Joanne and I were, but we’re together, and that must mean something.” He smiled into her eyes, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Lucy nodded. “I think I’ve always loved you,” she said.

“And I’ve come to love you, but it’s a very different love from what I feel for Joanne. Ours is a quiet, warm and contented love. But is it enough for you? Is it, Lucy?”

“Yes.” Lucy’s heart was at peace. “It’s enough,” she whispered, nestling contentedly in his arms.

Over the coming weeks, Barney confounded the doctors by finding a new strength. Life was good; they took gentle strolls through the countryside; they sat long in the garden, and once a week they would go to the churchyard and lay a posy on little Jamie’s resting-place. But in the back of their minds there was always the fear of Barney’s relapse, and the growing weakness in his limbs.

When Lucy found to her immense joy that she was carrying Barney’s child, their happiness knew no bounds. But Barney was adamant. “We can’t let it be known that you’re with child,” he said. “That would only set tongues wagging. God knows they’ve already been busy enough what with me being here and the two of us living under the same roof.”

It was true, Lucy thought. At first everyone had accepted that she was merely caring for Barney. But now, after months passing and the two of them being seen out together, the gossip knew no end, and it was not pleasant.

“Look, Lucy, I have a small amount of money put by. Let’s move away … rent a place somewhere far off, where folks won’t point the finger at you or the child.”

It was just an idea, but Lucy was reluctant to leave the area. “You need to be near the doctors, you know,” she told him. “You don’t want to be starting over with someone new who doesn’t know you like Doctor Lucas. You’re doing all right for now. Please, Barney, don’t take any risks.”

“But you will think about it, won’t you, Lucy?” he urged.

And the more Lucy thought about it, the less she liked the idea of moving Barney out of the area. He had Doctor Lucas, who knew him like an old friend, and the hospital close enough to have him in quickly should it be needed. He had his old friend Arthur, who came to visit regularly, and others who were concerned for his health.

But none of this concerned Barney. All he wanted was that the child should not grow up where people pointed the finger.

Lucy’s immediate concern however, was for Barney, and so, for the moment she tactfully let the matter slide.

When she told Bridget about the coming baby, and Barney’s wish to move away, Bridget was thrilled and horrified at the same time. “Oh, Lucy! I think it’s wonderful that you and Barney have found each other. Even though he’ll always pine for Joanne, at least he’s found a measure of peace and happiness with you, and as for you, well, you’re positively blooming!”

She observed Lucy’s bright eyes and the spring in her step when she walked and her heart went out to her. “I’ve always known you loved him,” she confided. “Anyone with half an eye could see it.”

Some months later, the child, a girl, was born to Lucy and Barney. They called her Mary, after Barney’s late mother. “She’s beautiful,” he said, the joy written on his face. “I know I will never see her grow to a woman but, God willing, I might be here long enough to see her as a real little person.”

And he did, for though his illness was a terrible threat hanging over all of them, he saw little Mary when she began toddling, and when she gurgled her first word it was for him alone. “LUCY! …” One fine morning, Barney greeted Lucy from the garden with tears in his eyes. “She called me … ‘Daddy.’” It was one of the most beautiful moments in his life, and Lucy thanked the good Lord for his mercy in letting Barney live long enough to experience the joy of it all.

But on Mary’s second birthday, Barney took a turn for the worse. Confined to his bed for a week, he had time to consider his future, and that of his daughter and Lucy. “It’s time to leave here,” he told Lucy one evening when they sat by the fire. “I don’t want Mary to know what happened to Joanne and the family. I don’t want her to think me some kind of monster to have sent them away without me. I made them hate me, Lucy, I made them think I was a drunk and a womanizer. What kind of thing is that for our daughter to hear? And hear it she will, because now everyone round here knows the truth. As soon as she can understand, Mary will hear it, and I don’t want that. D’you hear me, sweetheart? I don’t want her to know until she’s old enough to understand and to be able to forgive me for it!”

Lucy gently replied, “I’ll tell her when the time is right. I’ll tell her what a courageous and wonderful thing you did for love of your family. She’ll understand.”

“But I want us to move, Lucy,” he pleaded. “I know it’s the right thing for Mary.” Barney could not be dissuaded, and when she gave it more thought, Lucy could see the wisdom of his reasoning. So, she spoke to agents and even wrote away as far as Bedfordshire.

Before Mary’s third birthday, the cottage was sold. The same businessman who bought Leonard’s farm wanted it to extend and then sell on with a minimum of five acres of pasture-land. He had competition from another source, and between them they sent the price up, enough for Barney and Lucy to secure a sizeable property farther afield.

It wasn’t long before her efforts paid off. She got news of a house some two hundred miles away in a small hamlet near the town of Bedford.

The house was of some substance, a “proud and beautiful woman past her best” was how it had been described to her. Apparently the house had stood empty for many years and had gradually fallen into disrepair. Consequently it was going cheap for anyone who had the heart to bring it back to its former glory, and if not, then it was still habitable, with no apparent structural defects.

Because the journey would be too arduous for Barney, Lucy went with Arthur to view the house. She fell instantly in love with it. There was also a small house in the grounds, also brought to its knees by neglect and the elements. “If I move with you and Barney, I could set up a business in the village.” Arthur grew excited. “Meantime, I could work on the house. I’m not a builder, but I do know how to use my hands.” The truth was, he could not bear the thought of being so far away from Lucy in her hour of need, especially when Barney’s health seemed to be failing fast.

In truth, Lucy had seen Barney’s health deteriorate so much of late, that even though he fervently assured her to the contrary, she feared he may not be strong enough for the move.

On Lucy’s return, she thanked Bridget who had kindly stayed at the cottage with Barney while Lucy travelled South to view the house. “So, what did you think of it?” Bridget was excited, though she would miss her dear friend. “Was it as grand as they said?”

Lucy described the house in detail, its strong Victorian features, the high ceilings and panelled walls, the long windows with panoramic views across open countryside. “It could be beautiful,” Lucy told her. “But it does need a lot of work, though Arthur has come up with an idea.”

When Arthur explained it to Barney, he was thrilled. “That would be good,” he told him, “I’ve been so concerned about Lucy and the child. I could rest easy if I knew you’d be around to keep an eye on things.”

So the deal was done and plans were quickly underway.

In a few weeks time Barney, Lucy, Arthur and Mary, were away to pastures new; though for Barney it would never be a long adventure; they all knew that.

W
hile Lucy slept upstairs, Arthur Chives sat by the fire in Knudsden House, his mind going back over the years, and his heart both proud and sad. “Barney and your mother lived in that cottage together for two years,” he told Mary, while Ben listened. “The doctors had given him a year at the most, but Lucy brought him a degree of peace, and after a time they made a life together.” He smiled wistfully at the memory, for he had loved Lucy as much as she loved Barney. “To this day, she had never stopped loving him.”

“You were born out of that love, Mary.”
Lucy’s quiet voice filled the room. “You’re so much like your father. You have the same beautiful eyes and the same gentle ways.”

“Lucy!” Arthur was horrified. “Dr. Nolan said you were to stay in bed.”

“Nonsense, I’m perfectly all right,” she argued. “There is nothing wrong with me, and I’m far from in my dotage, for heaven’s sake! Doctors don’t know everything. I’ve simply been overdoing it, that’s all.”

Hobbling but determined, she came into the room where she stood beside Arthur, her hand resting on his shoulder and her gaze bathing every inch of her daughter’s face. “Every time I look at you, I see Barney.”

Arthur looked at Mary and he, too, saw Barney in her every feature—softer and more feminine, yes—but strong and handsome too.

“I was there when you were born,” Arthur said fondly. “I waited in the sitting room with your father, while Dr. Lucas was upstairs bringing you into the world. When he heard your first cry, Barney went up those stairs like he was born all over again. He took you in his arms and oh, he was such a proud, happy man.”

When Arthur laid his hand over Lucy’s, she hardly noticed, though deep down she derived a measure of comfort from his touch.

Deeply moved by everything she had heard, Mary went to Lucy and taking her mother gently over to the armchair, she sat her down. “I never knew,” she said. “I never dreamed that was the secret you kept from me all these years.” She had learned more about her father and her own background in one evening, than in all the years she was growing up. There was so much to think about. The revelation that she had three half-siblings in America, plus the sorrowful knowledge that her half-brother Jamie had died before her, was a huge shock to her system, and she knew that it would take a long, long time to come to terms with everything she had learned tonight.

Lucy was glad that Arthur had chosen to tell the truth. “It’s been such a burden all this time,” she admitted now. “But I gave my promise, d’you see? I gave my promise and I could never break it.”

Arthur reassured her. “You didn’t break it,” he reminded her. “It was me who thought Mary should be told. I’ve always thought it was her right to know.”

Lucy smiled. “So you thought you’d tittle-tattle while I was laid up, did you?”

“I’m not sorry the truth is out,” he said stoutly. “I’m only sorry if I’ve upset you.”

Lucy sighed. “You did right, my old friend. You did right.” She turned to address Ben, who had been mesmerized by the whole story. “What do you think of my darling Barney?” she asked. “Do you think
he
was right in what he did?”

Lucy was testing him. In Ben she had seen something akin to Barney, but she needed reassuring.

Ben considered her question, and when he gave his answer, he gave it with a sense of wonder. “In all my life, I’ve never heard of such a man,” he said. “What he did was incredible. For the sake of his loved ones, he belittled and punished himself beyond endurance. I understand now what the inscription means. ‘He made the greatest sacrifice of all.’”

Lucy asked him another question. “In those circumstances, would you have done the same?”