Turning a deep shade of pink, Adam smiled. ‘Doctor Lucas is a fine man,’ he remarked. ‘It will be good to see him again, I’m sure.’
Mary had a question for Lucy. ‘Have you told him you’re coming?’
‘Not yet, no.’
‘When do you intend going?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve only just made the decision. In a couple of weeks’ time, maybe? I’ll write to Doctor Lucas. There are any number of good hotels in the area.’
Mary had another question. ‘Mother?’
‘Yes, dear?’
‘Can we come with you – me and Ben?’
Lucy quickly reassured her. ‘I wouldn’t dream of going back without you,’ she said. ‘When we left there, you were too young to remember what it was like …’
Nostalgia flooded her senses. ‘I need to show you the fields where your daddy and the family worked alongside each other, and the cottage where we lived. I can’t wait to see Bridget, either. From her letters, she’s still full of life, with the dancing and the singing and the shameless flirting. She’s married four men and dumped them all one after the other, and doesn’t seem to have changed one bit. But oh, how wonderful it will be to see her again. I bet she’s grown old disgracefully, and made a fortune out of everything she’s ever touched.’
Ben was intrigued. ‘Have you never met up in all this time?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘Bridget’s been too busy making her fortune, and until now, I’ve never really mustered enough courage to go back.’ She laughed heartily. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting she looks exactly the same, and as far as I can tell, she’s still up to her old tricks, wheeling and dealing, and playing havoc with the men.’
Caught up in Lucy’s enthusiasm, Mary ran to sit on the arm of her mother’s chair. ‘Oh Mum, I’m longing to meet her! And I want to see it all – the fields and the cottage, and the river …’
She paused when Lucy looked at her through agonised eyes, almost as though her mother knew what was in her mind at that moment. ‘Will you take me to see where he is, Mother?’ Sliding a hand into Lucy’s, Mary gently persisted, ‘Will you take me to the churchyard where little Jamie lies?’
In her mind Lucy saw it all – that night, and the horror – and thrusting it to the back of her mind, she avoided the question. ‘So there you are, my dear,’ she said brightly, and turning to Ben, she asked, ‘You will come with us, won’t you, Ben?’
Just as she had hoped, Ben did not hesitate. ‘I’d like that. Thank you, Lucy.’
Lucy clapped her hands. ‘Good! That’s wonderful. I’m sure Adam will organise it all.’ She winked at him. ‘Of course, it would be nice to have a date for the wedding too, so we can start planning for that as well. Ben’s daughter Abbie will make a beautiful bridesmaid, don’t you think, Adam?’
Mary flung her two arms round her mother’s neck. ‘You’re a conniving old biddy,’ she chided, ‘but I wouldn’t swap you for the world.’
Lucy would not be deterred. ‘Well, Ben? Is there soon to be a wedding or not?’
Delighting in Lucy’s character, Ben promised, ‘I think you should get your hat and outfit ready. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it didn’t happen before too long, isn’t that right, Mary?’
Mimicking her mother, the girl was a little coy. ‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’ With that, she took her leave. ‘Who wants a cup of tea?’
For now, the discussion was over, but there was much to look forward to.
And much to fear.
BRIDGET HAD TAKEN flowers to the churchyard every Saturday, and this Saturday was no different.
Twenty years ago, she had made a promise to a friend, and though she had been many things in her life, some of which she was not proud of, it was not in her nature to break a promise.
Stooping to lay down the posy of white and yellow narcissi, she dug into her pocket and took out a white envelope. Then she held it up, almost as though she thought little Jamie could see it. ‘I had a letter from yer mammy this morning,’ she murmured in her soft Irish lilt. ‘At long last, she’s coming to see us. What d’you think o’ that, eh? Ah, sure, it won’t be easy for yer mammy … what with a family in the cottage an’ the river only a spit away, as if nothing bad ever happened there. But we all know different, don’t we, eh?’
Drawing a deep breath through her nostrils, she blew it out in a great sigh. ‘Ah, but she’s a brave woman, yer mammy. After you were took, she went away with dear Barney. She made a new life and though we’ve written time and again, we’ve not clapped eyes on each other these many years.’
When a dewdrop appeared on the end of her nose she cuffed it away. ‘There’s a chill wind brewing,’ she said. ‘I’d best be going, or my knee will seize up again.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m not so young as I was, more’s the pity, but I can’t let the years get the better of me, ’cause once I do that, I’m finished.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Inside, I’m still the young woman who fought and clawed her way to the top.’
After rearranging the posy in a nicer position, she clambered to her feet, groaning as she straightened up. ‘The old bones are beginning to complain, but the mind’s as quick as it ever was.’ Bridget was thankful for the good health she enjoyed. It meant she could keep to her schedule and stay one step ahead of advancing years.
She rubbed her sore knees and for a moment was quiet in contemplation. ‘In some ways it might be better if yer mammy never came back, poor wee thing,’ she said, ‘but then I wouldn’t see her, would I? An’ she wouldn’t see you, an’ that would be a terrible shame, especially when it’s taken her so long to make this particular journey.’
The man’s kindly voice startled her. ‘You know what they say about people who talk to themselves?’
Swinging round, she almost fell over. ‘Jaysus! I almost had a heart attack. What d’you want to creep up on me like that for?’
The man apologised. ‘I wasn’t creeping up on you,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I’ve seen you so often down here, I thought I might come up and say hello.’
Slim and tidy, with a pleasant bearded face, something about him jogged Bridget’s memory. ‘Have I seen ye somewhere before?’ she asked. ‘You look familiar.’
He laughed at that. ‘Isn’t that what the men are supposed to say when they see a woman who takes their fancy?’
Bridget could see the funny side. ‘Ah well now, it’s not that I’m after taking your fancy,’ she joked in return. ‘I really do believe I’ve seen ye somewheres before.’
Offering the hand of friendship, he introduced himself. ‘The name’s Oliver Rogers.’
Bridget shook his hand. ‘An’ how d’you do then, Oliver Rogers.’ Suddenly she was blushing to the roots of her hair. ‘Ah, now I know where I’ve seen ye. That’s it! You used to visit my old place … Gawd Almighty! Sure, that’s more years ago than I care to remember.’
He laughed. ‘You’re right. It must be at least twenty-four years since I climbed the steps to spend an hour or so with one of your girls.’
Bridget