Sealed With a Loving Kiss (34 page)

Mary nodded and managed to find a modicum of comfort from her words. The room had gone very quiet, she noticed. Ron was sitting on the arm of the couch next to Rosie, his unlit pipe clenched between his teeth, and Monty lying at their feet; Peggy was fidgeting in the tight squeeze on the sofa, while Eileen remained isolated on the other side of the low table. And yet, in that silence was a tangible sense of tension – of things unsaid – of emotions being tightly restrained.

Eileen's expression was apprehensive, her slender figure rigid with some unspoken anxiety as she fumbled to light a cigarette. Yet, as Mary met those unwavering brown eyes which had watched her throughout, she saw something flicker there momentarily before she looked away. Was it apprehension, or something much deeper? It had been too fleeting to tell.

‘I'm going to make a pot of fresh tea,' said Peggy as she glanced fretfully at the clock and began to clear the cups and saucers onto the tray. ‘It's the best medicine I know for calming people down and soothing hurts.'

Mary watched as she went into the kitchen, the leggy pup following her in anticipation of a treat. The silence in the room was profound and Mary could almost feel the hostility between Rosie and Eileen as they momentarily caught each other's eye and swiftly looked away.

Peggy returned some minutes later with the tea tray, and once everyone had a cup, she perched on the very edge of the small couch next to Mary. ‘Drink up, love,' she murmured. ‘It'll make you feel better, I promise.'

As the tea was sipped and cigarettes were lit, the silence continued, and Mary felt a squirm of nervous apprehension in the pit of her stomach. The moment had come to bring this whole upsetting business to its conclusion.

She put down the empty cup, flicked back her hair and cleared her throat. ‘I'm sure you all remember that I had several questions to ask,' she said, with a firmness that surprised her. ‘Now I know that Tommy was my father – which probably explains why Rosie knew me as Flora – it's time to ask the most important question of all.'

She looked at each of them, noting how they were steeling themselves for what she was about to ask. ‘Who was my mother?'

Tommy had had enough of being in hospital, even though he'd been here less than twenty-four hours and had spent most of that time unconscious with morphine. He hated the restrictions of being forced to lie in bed, the bustling, po-faced nurses who clearly didn't approve of him; Matron's hectoring manner; and the disgusting food they insisted upon serving up.

He wasn't actually hungry, but he couldn't have eaten it even he'd wanted to, for his jaw was swollen, his lips were split, and the raw sockets where his two front teeth had once been were small pits of agony. The only advantage to all this was that he couldn't smell the antiseptic stench of the place, for his broken nose had been tightly plugged with lint.

He lay in the bed, his breathing as shallow as possible through his damaged mouth, for every movement sent sharp pains from his cracked ribs into his chest. He couldn't see very much through his bloodshot eyes and swollen lids, but at least the swelling had begun to go down, thanks to the ice-packs the nurses frequently replaced. His whole body felt as if it was on fire despite the pills the doctors had given him for the pain, but at least the plaster on his broken leg had eased the agony he'd gone through as he'd crawled into that alleyway.

Tommy was feeling very sorry for himself and wondered, resentfully, why Rosie hadn't rushed to his bedside the minute she'd heard what had happened to him – or at least put in an appearance during this afternoon's visiting hour. He could have died last night in that bitter cold, and if that girl hadn't started screaming blue murder, which had alerted the people in the flats nearby, he doubted he would have been found before morning – and then it would have been too late.

He wished he could ease the deep pains in his ribcage, but every movement was agony, so he just had to lie there simmering with rage. Didn't Rosie realise that he'd taken that beating to protect her and that precious bloody pub of hers? The Copeland brothers had been threatening to do the place over, to smash it up and clear the stock in return for the money he owed them – perhaps even rough up his sister to underline their message – and he'd begged and pleaded and made promises he knew he had no hope of keeping so they punished him and left Rosie alone.

Yet, as he lay there plucking nervously at the sheet with his torn hands, a nasty cold trickle of doubt dowsed his self-righteous anger. There was no guarantee that the Copeland thugs would keep their word. Now they'd dealt with him and got him out of the way, they could very well be plotting to go to the Anchor to take what they considered was owing to them. And Rosie would now be there alone every night.

He gripped the sheet and began to tug at it, careless of his torn nails and bruised knuckles. He had to get out of this bed to warn her. But the sheet and blanket were tightly binding him, and each pull on his battered muscles made him hiss with pain.

And then he froze in terror as the swing doors clattered back and four large men appeared on the ward. Their double-breasted black pinstripe suits strained against their bulky chests and muscled arms, and the brims of their dark fedoras were tugged low over their hard, narrowed eyes as they surveyed the ward.

Brushing aside the nurse's protests, they headed straight for Tommy. It was the Copeland brothers and they were clearly not in a pleasant mood.

Tommy's mouth dried and his heart hammered so hard he could barely breathe. He couldn't even squirm up against his pillows, hampered as he was with the plaster cast and the heavy bandaging around his chest, so he waited, trapped in the hated bed as they advanced on him.

He blinked up at them through his swollen eyelids as they blocked out the light and loomed over him like black harbingers of death, and his cracked ribs protested sharply with each terrified breath. ‘What do you want?' he managed to stutter.

‘We've come to see how you are,' said the eldest brother in a tone that froze the blood in Tommy's veins.

Tommy knew better than to reply, for Alfie Copeland wasn't a man who had any time for two-way conversations.

‘Let this be a warning to you, Findlay,' the man continued. ‘Next time you try to cheat on us, we'll give you a proper hiding.'

Tommy shook his head vehemently, although it hurt like hell. ‘There won't be a next time,' he lisped through his missing teeth. ‘I promise.'

Copeland's cold glance travelled from Tommy's face to the plaster on his leg, and he reached down casually and grabbed the exposed toes in an iron grip. ‘Let's hope you've learned to keep your promises, Findlay, or you won't be the only one to end up on a slab in the morgue.'

His humourless smile was vulpine and chilling. ‘And that would be a shame. Your Rosie's a good-looking woman.'

Tommy's heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst from his chest as the grip on his vulnerable toes increased and began to twist until he could feel the bones grind agonisingly against each another. He knew that to cry out and bring attention to what was happening would only make things worse, and he almost bit through his lip as the torture continued and the keening in his throat rose to a desperate, high-pitched whine.

And then suddenly the pressure was eased and he sank back into the pillows with a sob of relief.

‘How dare you come into my hospital and ignore my nurses!'

Copeland moved back from the bed and all four brothers raised their hats to the furious Matron, who'd arrived like a marauding galleon under full sail. ‘We were just visiting our friend,' said Alfie with all the charm of a cobra. ‘I'm delighted to see how well you're looking after him. Good day to you, Matron.'

Before the astonished woman could reply they'd walked out of the ward, leaving the doors clattering back and forth behind them.

Matron glared down at Tommy. ‘Who were those men?' she demanded.

Tommy closed his eyes and refused to answer.

‘I do not allow visitors on my ward out of hours,' she continued as she forcefully straightened the bedding. ‘And I certainly don't appreciate that sort of rough type coming in here disturbing my nurses and my patients.'

Tommy ignored her as he kept his eyes closed and tried to recover from Copeland's rough handling. But his ribs were shooting pains through his chest and his broken leg felt as if it was on fire. He had to get out of here – had to leave Cliffehaven and get as far as possible from the Copeland gang – and if at all possible, persuade Rosie to get out too, before they carried out their threats.

He lay there and let the woman take his temperature and pulse as his mind raced. There was always a nurse on the ward, and he wouldn't get very far on this broken leg without crutches or a wheelchair. But there had to be some way. There just had to.

THE SILENCE THAT
met Mary's question was deeply uneasy. Ron fidgeted on the arm of the couch and all three women refused to look at one another.

And then a soft, unsteady voice broke the silence. ‘I'm your mother, Flora.'

Mary stared at her, unable to believe that she was the one she'd been searching for, had foolishly dreamed about in the desperate hope that despite everything, she'd regretted abandoning her. And then she felt a cold rush of fury sweep through her. ‘So why didn't you acknowledge that fact earlier? You certainly had plenty of chances.'

‘I didn't know who you were until today,' she stammered.

Mary gave a snort of derision. ‘Really? I find that very hard to believe.'

‘If I'd known, then of course I would have said something,' she persisted.

‘I doubt it,' retorted Mary. ‘You'd already proved you were no sort of mother by abandoning me before I was less than ten days old, so I can hardly expect you to welcome me with open arms now.'

Eileen's brown eyes were huge in her ashen face. ‘I didn't abandon you,' she rasped.

‘Yes, you did,' Mary snapped. ‘You walked out, never to be seen again, and left me to Tommy's tender mercies. I'm amazed you dared to ever show your face here again, let alone still be in cahoots with him – and don't deny it, Eileen. I've seen you with him on more than one occasion.'

‘I'm not denying that Tommy can still get me to do his dirty work – he can be very persuasive. But as for walking out on you …' Eileen gulped as she fought back her tears. ‘I never did that, Flora – in fact, if it had been at all possible, I would have kept you.'

Mary shook her head in disbelief. This woman was her mother – and even though she'd been faced with the living proof of what she'd done, she still couldn't be honest.

Eileen edged forward in her chair, eager to reassure her. ‘I loved you, Flora – really I did – and giving you up for adoption was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.'

Rosie snorted. ‘You're such a liar, Eileen.' You were keen enough to give her away, even before she was born, so don't put on the martyr act to make yourself look good in front of the poor girl. Peggy and I know the truth,' she said coldly, ‘so you're not impressing anyone.'

Eileen's gaze hardened and her lips thinned as she returned Rosie's glare. ‘You didn't exactly cover yourself in glory either,' she snapped. ‘None of this would have happened if you'd kept your word.'

‘What do you mean?' barked Rosie as she shook off Ron's restraining hand and struggled to her feet. ‘I keep my promises. Which is more than I can say for you. If you'd had a shred of decency …' She took a shallow, shuddering breath and clenched her fists. ‘But you didn't, did you? You just went your own sweet way without a single thought for anyone else, and to hell with the consequences.'

‘That's an out-and-out lie!' Eileen was now also on her feet with her hands clenched and her eyes stormy.

Mary looked at them both through her tears, stunned by the anger and bitterness that lay between them. It was horrible, and she wished with all her heart that she'd never started this.

‘That's enough from both of you,' ordered Ron. ‘Can't you see you're upsetting Mary with your poison?' He gently but firmly drew the furious Rosie back to the couch and glared at Eileen until she too was sitting down again.

‘Right,' he said. ‘I've heard a great many things this afternoon and it strikes me that we need to clear the air before we go any further – and we can only do that if you tell the truth.'

‘But I have been telling the truth,' protested Eileen.

‘Not from where I'm sitting, you haven't,' retorted Rosie.

‘Ron's right,' said a tearful and very confused Mary, who couldn't stand this awful state of affairs any longer. ‘We won't get anywhere like this. All I'm asking from both of you is honesty. Surely you can grant me that one simple thing without fighting about it?'

‘The truth is rarely simple,' said Peggy with a deep sigh. ‘As I suggested before, I think each of you should tell us the way you see it.'

Mary regarded her with affection and relief. ‘Thank you for being the voice of reason in all this, Peggy – I hate seeing everyone being so hurtful and angry. And as Rosie and Eileen can't agree on anything, I'll tell my side of the story first.'

She glanced at Rosie, who was still glaring at Eileen. Eileen fidgeted in her seat and looked at no one as she furiously smoked her cigarette. Peggy's sweet face was concerned and Ron was determinedly concentrating on lighting his pipe. Yet the atmosphere was still heavy and Mary had to take a series of deep breaths before she could get her emotions under control and her voice steady.

She told them how she hadn't known she was adopted until very recently, and gave them a short description of her life at the rectory with the Reverend Gideon Jones and his wife Emmaline before they had been killed in the tip-and-run.