Chapter One #2
Once the service was over, we followed mother to the church yard and watched them lower her into the mud.
Tom held his hand to my waist for a moment but, as if afraid to commit, let his hand hover there just above my coat.
We retired to David’s pub, the Coach and Horses, for mother’s wake, and it was all over.
As the darkness fell over the hills beyond the window, my stomach churned, becoming ever more terrified of returning to that house alone.
Intrigued, curious to know what it would be like to have the place to myself.
..but terrified all the same. Mother, even in death, had been my companion.
Now she was gone for good. This was it, now – this was my new situation.
Just me and the heather and the few cows and chickens and a house that was disintegrating.
“I’ll get your coat and escort you back home, Grace,” said Tom, finishing his pint. “It’ll be too dark for you to walk back on your own, soon.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself,” I said, but he was already gone in search of my coat.
I had hoped to use the walk home to clear my head, breathe in the fresh air and be one with my own thoughts, but Tom was being chivalrous and I didn’t want to dismiss him.
He was all I had, even if I had no feelings for him.
..though what his plans were, I didn’t know.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Tom had some motive for sticking by my side while I was at my most vulnerable.
But I was too tired and worn out by now to care.
Mavis O’Shaughnessy , from the post office, smiled meekly as she made her way around the bar to me, holding a stiff piece of card in her hand.
She looked just the same as she did when I was little; old, grey, with large round glasses and a cardigan which matched the colour of her hair.
The only difference about her was the hollow aspect to her eyes, and the thin tube feeding oxygen to her nose from the tank she wore on her back.
She’d been sick for a long while now, and it had been wearing her down slowly, but still, she soldiered on. That was the way of Yorkshire women, let alone ones of Irish descent, like her. I had no doubt she would be tending the shop when she took her last breath and fell upon the cold, hard floor.
Mavis touched her small, gentle hand to mine and squeezed my fingers.
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” she said. “She was a good woman. She did a marvellous job, to raise you into such a capable young person.”
Capable. I didn’t feel at all capable, not now that I had no distractions, and the work of the house and the farm and simply living was on my shoulders alone.
Winter was looming on the horizon, and in a few months the landscape would be nightmarish with the stream frozen over and the green grasses turned to snow banks.
But I didn’t convey any of that to poor Mavis. I just said, “Thank you.”
Mavis slid the piece of card she held in her hands over the bar-top to reach me. As I glanced down at it, I noticed it was black with a matte-finish and a motif of a crow and a thorny rose on the back.
“This was handed in to me by one of the pallbearers to put up in the shop window. I was going to pop it in tonight, but when I read the advertisement, I thought about you,” she said. “All alone in that house, without your mother...well, I thought perhaps you’d relish the opportunity.”
“What is it?” I asked, turning the card over and finding out for myself.
It was an advertisement from the London flagship branch of the funeral parlour I’d used for mother’s service.
Crowthorne Funeral Care were looking for an assistant who would live-in with the owner for a lower rate of pay, but with full board offered and bills included.
Training would be included in the form of an apprenticeship for the right candidate.
Must be a self-starter, independent, and eager to learn. The right candidate will be familiar with death and its processes, and comfortable spending long hours indoors.
It sounded like my idea of heaven. I turned the card over in my hands and examined the embossed logo of the crow, stroking it with my thumb. I wondered about the owners, whether they resembled the crow with its black eyes and glossy black feathers.
“I’d be surprised if somebody didn’t take this offer up within minutes of it going out,” I said, sighing. “It’s in London, after all. I’m not sure what chance I’d have.”
“Well,” said Mavis, tapping my hand reassuringly.
“I happen to know the Director is looking for something – someone – very particular. He’s a firm idea in his mind of the kind of person who would fit in with his way of doing things – that’s what the crew told me, when they gave me the card.
He’s a tough old stick, they say, is Nicholas Crowthorne. ”
I shivered at the name, Nicholas Crowthorne.
Now the marketing made sense. My skin pebbled, for some reason, and my hairs stood on end to hear about a man who was particular about his needs.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I might meet those needs, and what he’d say if I was to present myself, looking for work.
“He sounds...mysterious,” I said. “What makes you think he’d accept me?”
Mavis’ eyes twinkled mischievously; a knowing look which piqued my curiosity all the more.
“He needs somebody capable of the work, yet sensitive, discrete, respectful...”
“You think that could be me?” I asked, feeling baffled yet hopeful. I’d never considered that I could leave the dale before now. It had never been a possibility.
Mavis smiled fondly. “You’re young. So, so young, with enough responsibility behind you for ten people.
I thought of nobody else but you when I read the description.
With your skills, your experience, your.
..well, you. You’d be the perfect choice.
Who knows. It’s London. This could be a whole new start for you. ”
I stared at the card and began to dream up impossible dreams, excitement building in my belly.
Could another life be waiting for me, far away from everything I knew?
Mavis drew her hand away abruptly as Tom approached with our coats, his eyes moving between the pair of us, wondering what we’d been discussing. I folded the card into my palm and pocketed it in my purse, never meeting his gaze as I shrugged on my coat.
“Think about it,” Mavis whispered, giving my arm a squeeze. “Nice to see you, Tom.”
“What’s Mavis want you to think about?” asked Tom, frowning after her. As if it was any of his business. Once again, that eerie feeling crept over me, wondering what Tom had on his mind.
“Nothing,” I said, sighing. “I’m ready if you are.”
The walk was slow and arduous, but not because of the terrain or even the drizzle. The tension between us was tangible. I longed for us to be kids again, when things were simpler and there were no expectations, and when Tom didn’t make me feel this sense of dread within my core.
As we approached the front door, I decided to break the tension myself.
Breathing out a long sigh, I turned to face Tom on my doorstep.
“I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am to you for tending the cows and chickens all these months, while I looked after my mother. I couldn’t have coped without you,” I said. I meant every word. Tom had been worth his weight in gold.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I’ll receive fair pay when it’s time for the cows to go to market.”
“Right, of course,” I said. “But I wanted to thank you all the same. You’ve got your own lot to tend to, and I’ve no right to impose on your time.”
“It’s no bother,” he said, gazing off into the distance. The last smear of orange sunset was disappearing behind the hills, leaving its cloak of deep navy blue behind, dotted with sparkling stars. A romantic night’s sky, for the right couple.
“It’s a pleasure to help you, Grace,” he said, finally looking at me. “It’s always been my pleasure.”
I swallowed hard, letting my gaze drop to my feet. Suddenly I regretted stopping on the doorstep without putting my key in the lock first.
“Well, thank you,” I said. “Goodnight, then.”
But Tom didn’t bid me his farewell and step away. He stayed firm, and before I knew it, I felt his hand curling around the back of my neck. He urged my head towards him and kissed me hard, his lips covering mine with a sudden aggression that made me moan my horror against his mouth.
I shoved him in the chest and pulled away, wiping the offensive sensation from my lips.
“Tom, what the –”
He looked stricken, at first, and then angry. Even in the darkness, I could see his complexion deepen as heat rose behind it, and his eyes pooled with a loathing I had never seen in him before. Never directed at me, anyway. Not until now.
“You said you were grateful,” he said stiffly. “I’ve been patient, Grace. I’ve been respectful while you grieved, while you looked after your mother –”
I felt my expression twist in confusion, and disgust.
“All this time, you did this because of...of what? Because you thought it would make me feel obliged to..?”
Tom fell silent, meeting me only with his anger and bitterness. His grey eyes pierced the darkness, narrowed on me.
“I’ve been patient, Grace,” he said again, this time through gritted teeth.
“I was thinking of moving away,” I said suddenly, blurting out the words. The card from the funeral home burned like a sigil in my pocket.
“Moving away?” he asked, sounding baffled. Then he laughed, hoarse and cruel. “You’re a farmer’s wife. Your life is here, in the dale – with me.”
I bit my lip, almost piercing it enough to taste blood.
“I’m not any farmer’s wife, Tom,” I said bluntly. “And I’ve made no promises to you.”
“You’ve been promised to me since we were kids,” said Tom. “Who will you be with, then, if not me? Some bloke from London, like you were talking about with Mavis? Get your head out of the clouds, Grace. She’s filled your head with daft ideas.”
He’d heard, then. He already knew, and he’d kept his mouth shut, biding his time.
Without warning, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him. He pressed my body against his, letting his hands roam my hips, my backside, before he riddled my neck with hot, needy kisses. I shoved him away as hard as I could, but he stayed firm, only squeezing me tighter to him.
“Get off me!” I cried. “I don’t want you, Tom! I’ve never wanted you!”
I kneed him as hard as I could in the crotch, and he let me go instantly, staggering back and coughing hoarsely as he clutched his groin.
“You nasty witch,” he choked out.
I fumbled in my purse for my key and held it in between my fingers, ready to slash him with it if necessary. But Tom coughed and spat on the ground, straightening himself. He took off his flat cap and ran a hand through his hair.
“I want you to get out of here, Tom,” I said.
“You’re grieving,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re not thinking straight now, but you will. You’ll come around.”
“I won’t, and if you come near me again –”
“I can be patient,” he said, as if he couldn’t hear me at all. As if he didn’t want to hear me; only himself, and his own selfish needs. “I’ll be round in the morning to tend the animals.”
He turned and staggered back down the path, muttering to himself, without so much as a goodbye.
I didn’t wait a moment longer. I got the door open and slammed it shut, bolting it for good measure.
Tom’s sudden aggression turned my stomach, and I didn’t feel safe in my home any more.
The lights flickered, casting shadows over the portrait of my father’s face above the hearth.
The wind howled down the chimney, like a ghostly call, that made my back stiffen with fear.
I gazed about the dilapidated house and realised with a sinking, awful feeling that I didn’t recognise it any more as home.
It had become the pile of rubble where I tended to mother, and nothing more – now it was a shell, waiting for me to rot away inside it.
A freezing cold chill wove its way around my body, coming in like threads through the gaps in the crumbling bricks and mortar. How long before the roof caved in?
And Tom would be back in the morning, with his persistence and his aggression and his awful tongue on my neck.
Still shaking, I wondered what happened to that boy I used to know – but it didn’t matter now.
Nothing mattered. I had my health, and I had some money – only a little, but enough – in an account that I could access when I got to the city.
I decided, there and then, that I was leaving.
My breaths came quickly as I rushed upstairs, throwing some of my clothes and my essentials into a tattered suitcase and a beaten leather bag.
The rain and wind picked up outside as I packed, urging me on; hurrying me, before I could change my mind.
A crow twitched its head in my mind’s eye, watching me curiously, as I threw my luggage together.
A harrowing wail came down the chimney of my mother’s bedroom as I zipped up the suitcase.
While I struggled down the stairs with it, a crashing sound came from the room with the bathtub, making me scream.
Glass shattered against the stone flooring, and the wind howled throughout the house, washing me away down the stairs.
I flew from the front door like a madwoman, pulling my case behind me. As I turned, I saw a tree branch had smashed through the upstairs window, bent as it was by the wind. The cows groaned in the field beyond. They’d join Tom’s heard and forget all about me.
I ducked my head into my coat and fought my way against the wind as I struggled along the cobbled path to the main roadway, where I would take the long lane to the station. There’d be an evening train. It wasn’t too late.
I could do this. I could really do this.
Even if he slammed the door in my face. Even if the card turned to mulch in my hands and fell between my fingers, as if it never existed at all.
I was going, and I wasn’t coming back.