Lonely Girl (14 page)

‘Right! Then
you
get back inside and keep an eye on things. I won’t be long.’

Before he could protest further, she was striding past him, round the corner of the building and quickly out of sight. Tom was about to call after her to apologise, but she was gone. In that moment, he felt more lonely and afraid than at any other time in his sorry life.

‘Be quick, my darling,’ he muttered. ‘For both our sakes, be quick as you can.’

When the echo of her footsteps had faded away, he made no move to take up his vigil inside the barn. Instead, he glanced up at the stars overhead, thinking that John Tanner would never again look up at the beauty of the night skies.

Out there in the darkness Tom lingered a while, deeply thoughtful, heavy of heart, feeling so alone, and empty inside, unwilling to go back in the barn and greatly saddened at the thought of once more encountering the bloodied and empty figure of a once-fine man.

God alone knows, I’m not made for this kind of trouble, he thought. I need it to be over and done with so I know where I stand. The idea of being punished for something he did not do was beginning to weigh heavily on his mind. In that moment of hard reality he relived the terrible truth of what happened on this unforgettable night.

While Tom mentally revisited the awful events, he was unaware that the watchful eyes of John’s daughter and her friend Barney were trained on him only an arm’s reach away.

Seemingly alone in the dark, his thoughts wandered back to Molly.

Molly Tanner was bad, but in a captivating way. She possessed a kind of wild and curious beauty that he found hard to resist. She was like a force of nature. He had never known a woman with such inner strength. When she wanted something, she would go for it, and allow nothing to get in the way. Her passions were overwhelming, whether for love or for hate. Molly was the only woman he had ever needed. Without her these past years, he had not lived or loved, but merely survived, without joy or purpose.

Without Molly, he was nothing. He was no one.

He was haunted by the horror of the events of this night, yet, in spite of the terrible thing Molly had done, he could not find it in him to stop loving her. It was as if she had cast a spell over him. Her energy, her passion made him feel more alive.

Whatever might happen now, and whichever way this awful train of events might end, he would keep his word to her. He would rather die than let Molly suffer the inevitable consequences of John Tanner’s brutal and untimely death.

If his own sacrifice meant that she would share what life he might have at the end of it all, then he would not hesitate to suffer whatever punishment awaited him. Having her back in his life was all he ever wanted.

He recalled Molly’s threat to end her life if she were locked away in prison. If that was to happen, what would his own life be then, without her? It would be sadly empty, and every bit as unbearable as it had been before he found her again.

It was a sorry truth, however, that neither he nor Molly could ever put right the wrongs of what had happened here. As for himself, he would never be able to erase the memory of it from his thoughts; not even if he lived to be a very old man.

John Tanner was the greatest loser in all of this because he would never again see another sunset … never love again, or hold his only child in his arms. Never see her grow into a woman, or walk her up the aisle, or be there when she carried his grandchildren.

Through no fault of his own, that good man would never again have the pleasure of working his land. His only child would grow up without her beloved daddy in her life, and he would not follow her steps to adulthood.

That hard-working man, who had lived most of his life outdoors, would never again feel the warm sunshine or hear the raindrops pitter-patter on the ground. Nor would he ever again see a newborn foal stagger to its feet only minutes after its birth, or experience the satisfaction of watching as it grew into its full potential.

Deeply saddened, Tom walked slowly back inside the barn, carefully avoiding the pitiful sight that was John’s body.

As he turned away, he murmured through his tears, ‘I am so very sorry.’ And he was.

In that quiet, poignant moment he questioned his promise to Molly to take full blame for this man’s untimely and bloody end. Taking a few moments to reflect, he became deeply conscious of the callous manner in which she had both betrayed and killed her husband who, as far as Tom could see, had done no wrong. And he asked himself whether Molly deserved to pay for what she had done.

Maybe so, but it was not what he wanted for her. He still needed Molly. His hunger for that woman was like a drug of sorts – far stronger and more dangerous than anything he had ever encountered in his entire life.

So he decided that he would keep his word, and protect Molly as best he could. Any amount of punishment he was made to suffer would be a small price to pay if in the end it brought him the constant love of Molly Tanner.

Molly was the only woman he had kept safe in his heart for all these lonely years and now he must keep her safe again. And whatever it took to keep that promise, he was ready.

Resolved to face the music, he wondered why Molly was taking so long. ‘Come on, woman, it’s not that far to the telephone. Where are you, dammit?’

Maybe she was on her way back by now. He listened hard for the tap-tap of her high-heeled shoes, but when there was no such sound he began to panic.

Hidden in the bushes, huddling up to Barney, Rosie watched the stranger’s every move. She studied him as he walked back and forth, deeply agitated, his attention constantly returning to the path her mother had followed. She heard him softly muttering, but try as she might, she could not make out what he was saying.

Suddenly, to her horror, he stopped and seemed to look straight through the bushes at her and Barney. With her arm curled around Barney’s thick, warm body, Rosie lay very still and silent, afraid that the stranger might hear the fearful pounding of her heart.

Sensing her nervousness, Barney snuggled up tight to her, and he, too, kept his silence. The two of them watched the stranger pace up and down, increasingly agitated. Then without warning, he turned about and strode back inside the hay barn.

After a moment or so, Rosie ordered Barney to stay. ‘Keep a sharp watch,’ she told the faithful Labrador. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

Treading carefully through the tangle of bushes, she went towards the barn doors and peered inside. The stranger was walking away from her. She had no idea who he was, or why her mother had been with him here in the barn.

She was surprised by his pitiful demeanour. He seemed so very sad and weary, the way his shoulders were hunched up, and he walked in a slow manner that made him seem old.

She found herself comparing the stranger to her father, a tall, capable man with a bounce in his step and a warm smile on his stong face. Tanned by the sun and shaped by the elements, he was a man of character.

Rosie recalled that her father had gone out to look for his wife, yet now it was beginning to seem that while he was out searching for her, she had been here in the hay barn with this man.

She knew her daddy was careful, especially since the burglary, and she truly believed that while he was out looking for her mother he would have checked all the yards and barns, if only to make sure they were secure from thieves.

So why had he not found her when she was right here with the stranger?

Rosie had so many questions, but one in particular continued to weigh heavily on her mind. Where was her daddy?

Maybe he really couldn’t find Mother, so he went back home, she thought. Somehow that possibility made her feel just a tiny bit easier, although Rosie wondered why her mother and her man-friend managed to stay hidden from her father.

In her heart and soul, Rosie instinctively knew that something was not right. She was absolutely certain that the reason for Daddy being unable to find her mother was because her mother had planned it that way. She had not wanted to be found.

Rosie tiptoed a short way into the barn and hid behind a stack of bales. Deeply curious about the stranger, she wondered how her mother came to know him, because she herself had never seen him before; not at the farm, and never with either of her parents. Yet in that brief exchange she had witnessed between the stranger and her mother the two of them had seemed familiar together.

To Rosie, it was all more than a little worrying.

For the moment, she continued to watch the man as he went slowly through the barn. When suddenly he turned to glance in her direction, she managed to dodge quickly out of sight.

In case she might be spotted and have to run from here, she nervously glanced back to check the big doors were still open, giving a sigh of relief to note that they were in exactly the same position as before: one door half open and the other more so.

She hoped Barney was keeping vigil and staying out of sight. She knew she only had to call him and he would come running, although calling him to her just now would not be wise.

Staying sharp, she kept hidden a moment longer, and when everything remained silent and still, she dared to take another peek.

The stranger had not moved from a spot towards the back of the barn. Only now, he was kind of stooped over, appearing to look down at what Rosie took to be a pile of old rags lying on the ground. With the low level of lighting, she could not be absolutely certain as to whether they really were old rags or just a jumble of swept-up rubbish.

Staying out of sight in the darker shadows alongside the wall, Rosie crept nearer on tiptoe, afraid that at any moment the man might turn round and see her. She moved very slowly, mindful of where she stepped in case she might accidentally kick something and draw his attention to her.

Determined that she must be neither seen nor heard, she held her breath a moment, standing quite still before continuing forward with great caution, ready to run at any moment.

When suddenly the man again turned round to look in her direction, Rosie stopped and waited, motionless, ready to flee back to Barney, if the stranger spotted her.

The stranger looked away then, suddenly moving his head from side to side while nervously glancing about, as though afraid he was being watched.

Rosie pressed herself into the wall, all the time holding her breath for so long, she thought she must surely burst.

She was immensely grateful to be able to take a breath when the stranger shifted his concentration to the pile of jumble at his feet.

Rosie watched him as he continued to stare down, and then, after what seemed an age, he stooped to collect something from the ground. Carefully he turned the piece over and over in his hands, his head bent as he took a while to examine it in absolute silence.

Minutes passed. To Rosie’s dismay the man showed no sign of moving on. Instead, he remained still as a statue, making no sound whatsoever. Then eventually, he bent his head low and, to Rosie’s great astonishment, he began to cry.

At first he gave just low, broken whimpers. Suddenly the whimpers grew stronger, and holding the object he had retrieved from the ground in both hands, he reverently pressed it close to his chest, while softly sobbing, as though his heart would break.

His anguished cries touched Rosie deeply. She wanted to go to him, to help him in his distress, but she dared not move.

Then, as quickly as he had begun sobbing, the man stopped to stare up to the rafters, as though searching for something … or someone. Now he was weaving backwards and forwards, moaning and crying as though in great pain.

Rosie was deeply torn. Should she go to him? Or should she creep away so he would never know she was there? Be still, Rosie, she mentally cautioned herself. You must be careful.

She watched as he carefully returned the dark object to the ground, laying it tenderly beside the pile of jumble. She tried desperately to focus on it, but the low lighting was not helpful. There was something oddly familiar about the piece, but for the life of her she could not think straight.

Now she could hear the man softly muttering, head bent and his hands folded together, almost as though in prayer.

Feeling completely out of her depth, Rosie grew afraid. Was the stranger really praying? And if so, why? And what was the dark object he had collected from the ground, and that made him seem so very sad?

Rosie had no answers.

Now, though, waiting for the moment when she might think it safe to move, Rosie’s thoughts returned to her father.

She reminded herself of how she had only ever been in this hay barn once before, and that was a long time ago. Her daddy had brought her inside to show her what he had been building over all those months.

A gentle smile lit her face as she recalled how excited and proud he was to have built such a beautiful barn as this.

Suddenly the stranger swung round, seeming to look straight at her. She froze, and as soon as he turned away again she grabbed her chance to get out of there.

She was fleeing through the big door when the distant high-pitched wail of sirens filled the air. Alarmed by the noise, Barney came bounding out of the bushes where he had been obediently waiting.