‘It sounds to me as if you’re utterly miserable on the farm. You don’t love your husband and you don’t want the girl, so why not leave it all behind? We’re both working – we could rent a place somewhere. Nothing too grand, but at least it’ll be ours.’ When she gave no answer, he asked again, ‘What d’you say, Molly?’
‘Don’t talk stupid!’ Cursing herself for having confided in him, Molly reacted viciously. ‘Do you really think I’ve gone through years of hell, only to move in with you, to live in a grotty bedsit down some godforsaken backstreet? Hell will freeze over before I do that. My plan is to brave it out. Then, when he pops his clogs – hopefully sooner rather than later – I intend getting everything. John Tanner might be a first-class farmer, but he’s not too bright when it comes to paperwork, except when it’s to do with agricultural stuff.’
She smiled knowingly, lowering her voice. ‘Everything else – the more personal, official stuff – falls to me to deal with. So I am fully aware of what he’s worth and, consequently, what I am also worth, if you know what I mean?’
‘No, I don’t know what you mean, Molly. You might need to spell it out for me. What exactly are you getting at?’
In a soft, intimate voice she explained, ‘Well, let’s just say you should not be at all surprised if amongst John Tanner’s paperwork is a copy of his last will and testament. So I now know that, thanks to his father and grandfather before him having always had property and worked hard to keep it safe, John Tanner is not only worth a bob or two, but so am I. If I bide my time, I should end up a very wealthy woman. Think about it. There’s the farmhouse itself. The many acres of prime land, and the woods beyond. The solid furniture that belonged to his parents and grandparents before them, and their every single possession – bits of family jewellery, pictures – all now worth a pretty penny. On top of that, there’s all the machinery, which has cost a fortune over the years.’
She smiled. ‘So you see, Tom, that’s why I chose him over you. Not because I loved him, but because I saw a comfortable future, and if that makes me a bitch, then so be it. You asked for the truth, and now you’ve got it.’
‘You’re a bad lot, Molly. In truth, I’m only just beginning to see how devious you can be. But even now, I still want you in my life. In fact, I’d even be willing to take on the girl.’
‘Well, I’m not! When the time comes, I have other plans for her.’
‘What do you mean? What kind of plans?’
‘I mean that when I’m rid of John Tanner, I have no intention whatsoever of raising his daughter.’
‘I don’t understand. She’s your own flesh and blood. You have no choice but to raise her.’
‘I don’t have to do any such thing. She’s ruined my life since the day I first clapped eyes on her. I have never felt an ounce of affection for her, and I never will.’
Then, to Tom’s astonishment, she murmured softly, ‘The one thing I have always regretted is not smothering her when she was too small to know anything about it.’
Silence fell heavily before Tom, becoming more sober by the minute, was urged to voice his thoughts. ‘Shame on you, Molly. That was a shockingly wicked thing to say.’
She gave no answer, but slid her arm through his and walked him forward. ‘Forget about the girl,’ she advised brightly. ‘I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of when the time comes. But for now, my love, we need to get out of the cold.’
For her, the subject was ended, but her dark confession remained strong in her companion’s mind. He realised that if he and Molly were to have a future together, he must work through his troubling thoughts and reconcile them with his conscience.
‘So if and when you do get your hands on Tanner’s Farm and everything, what plans do you have for the child?’
‘Oh, that’s easy!’ Molly replied. ‘I’ve got it all worked out. I have no motherly feelings for the girl, but my sister, Kathleen, positively dotes on her, so it should be easy enough to dump her on Kathleen, especially as she’s so unbelievably trusting. Even when it comes to choosing men, she has no idea. She chose to marry a widower who is also a good eight or nine years older than her. Patrick’s not the best-looking fella in the world either, but for reasons I will never understand she worships the ground he walks on. Mind you, to be fair, I must admit he looks after her very well. While he’s not a wealthy man, he makes good money from his two successful tack shops, selling horsey stuff to the local hunt and the many riding schools hereabouts.’
Tom was impressed. ‘Well, successful business or not, your sister obviously loves him. Good luck to them, that’s what I say. He sounds like a decent sort.’
For a fleeting moment, Molly felt the teeniest twinge of jealousy. ‘He’s OK, I suppose. He seems to make Kathleen happy, but he’s not my cup of tea. Also, he came with baggage in the shape of Harry, the teenage son who now works on the farm with John. For my money, Patrick fell on his feet when he met Kathleen.’ She gave a disapproving grunt. ‘She’s so happy it makes me cringe! Like I said, my sister is far too easy to please. So turning the girl over to her should not be a problem.’ She smiled. ‘My sister is a fool to herself, but her soft nature might well work in my favour.’
Silently congratulating herself, she then remarked grandly, ‘Trust me, Tom. It will all work out for the best, you see if it doesn’t.’ Threading her arm through his, she kissed him soundly on the cheek. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get in the warm, eh?’
‘Lead on, my dear,’ he said, thinking the child would have a good life with her doting aunt. He snuggled up to Molly. ‘I forget where we’re going. The booze must have addled my brain.’
‘Don’t be daft! You didn’t forget,’ she laughed. ‘I just never actually told you, so you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? Relax. You’ll know when we get there, and I promise we’ll be safe enough … even from John Tanner. All right?’
Tom nodded. ‘Yeah, all right … if you say so.’
‘I do. So stop your moaning, and trust me.’
While Molly and her man hurried to their destination, John Tanner hurried through the backstreets towards the Magpie.
Keenly aware of how late it was, he remained vigilant, hoping to catch sound or sight of his wayward wife.
What the devil was she playing at staying out so late? When he heard the market hall clock chiming midnight his concern heightened. Where are you, Molly? he asked himself, looking about him. Surely the pub must be closed by now, so she couldn’t still be there. Nevertheless, he decided to check.
Within minutes he was at the door of the Magpie. As he had guessed, the pub was closed and in darkness except for the small, flickering outside light over the door. With the flat of his hand he pushed hard on the door but it was obviously locked from within.
He tried the handle several times, with no luck. With no other ideas, and increasingly worried, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden panelling; all to no avail.
Lifting the cover of the letter box, he peered through. The inner door to the saloon was closed and there was no evidence of anyone inside: no laughter or chatter, and no rattling of glasses.
Stepping back, he looked up at the bedroom windows. Disappointingly, the curtains were drawn.
Hesitating, he wondered if he should shout up but he knew the publican wouldn’t thank him for waking him and his wife if they were asleep. But he was frantic to know Molly’s whereabouts, so he decided to call anyway. He was aware that the landlord might occasionally organise lock-ins, when he would invite a chosen party of friends to