your mammy’s debts, I’ll be back, and we’ll be rid of him once and for all.’
She smiled through her tears. ‘Would you do that for us?’
‘You know I would.’
She thought how wonderful it would be if her uncle was gone, and for a brief moment her heart was lifted by his promise. But then she imagined what her life would be like without John, and it seemed unbearable. ‘Don’t go,’ she pleaded.
Common-sense crumbled when, suddenly, he was filled with a compulsion to take her away. ‘Come with me, Emily!’
Thrilled, she drew away from him, her eyes alight with excitement. ‘Yes!’ She laughed out loud. ‘Oh yes, John. Take me with you and I’ll get work. I’ll help you make your fortune!’ Like John, she had momentarily forgotten harsh reality.
In the heat of the moment, John wondered why he had not thought of it before. The solution was staring him in the face! Of course! If he couldn’t keep Jackson away from Emily, the next thing was to remove her out of harm’s way.
Besides, the idea of himself and Emily travelling life’s highway to make their fortune was wonderful. Later, they would come back and free her mammy and grandad from Jackson’s clutches. Potts End Farm would be returned to them, and life would be as it was before Clem came to taint it.
When, in that instant, common-sense prevailed and realisation dawned, a painful silence fell between them. It was broken by Emily’s quiet voice. ‘I can’t go with you.’ She raised her tearful gaze. ‘I have to stay and help Mammy. She could never manage on her own. Then there’s Grandad.’ She made a gesture of helplessness. ‘They need me.’
He nodded. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Emily. I wasn’t thinking.’ He held her hand and said reflectively, ‘Maybe Lizzie was right.’
‘What do you mean?’
He recalled his conversation with his aunt. ‘She said we were too young, and I’ve just proved her right.’ He was mortified. ‘The idea of you coming with me just took away my thinking.’
‘Don’t go, John,’ she murmured. ‘Please! Don’t go.’
‘I have to.’ Her pain was his.
Taking her by the arms, he drew her up, and for a time they stood together, he with his arms about her, and Emily nestled against him. Each could hear the other’s heart beating, as if they shared just one between them. They didn’t speak. All that needed saying had already been said.
With a suddenness that startled him, she wrenched away. ‘If you go, I’ll hate you!’ she cried, and when he reached out to console her, she turned and ran.
With his emotions torn in so many ways, all he could do was let her go. That dearly loved, familiar figure, running like the very wind, her hair flying in the breeze, and her feet bare as the day she was born. This was how he would remember her. This was the image he would carry with him, until he came back to claim her, one day when he had the means to free that troubled family.
Lowering his gaze for a moment, he wished with all his being that it could have been different. ‘I have to go,’ he said helplessly. ‘He gave me no choice.’
Sobbing uncontrollably, Emily fled to the barn and up the ladder to that secret place where she often came to write her deepest thoughts into her little book. Seeking comfort, she reached for her locket – and found it gone. Dear Lord! Horrified, Emily recalled her two wild journeys across the fields – the first in happy expectation of a rendezvous, the second a panicked dash to her lover’s aid. The locket must have come adrift from its chain then, and be lost on the farm or in Potts End Lane. She’d never find it again.
Sinking to her knees, her face in her hands, she gave vent to her grief.
She didn’t hear the soft crunch of footsteps as the man stepped towards her across the strewn hay. Nor was she aware that he stood for a full minute staring down on her, licking his lips and remembering what he had read in that book of hers. And now she was here, and his need of her was like a red-hot iron in his gut.
When in a minute he was on her, she fell backwards, helpless and terrified as he tore at her clothes. The instinct for survival gave her the will to fight, but she was no match for his bull-like strength.
‘For God’s sake, Uncle Clem – leave me be!’
But he didn’t leave her.
Instead, he slid his hand over her mouth to stop her screams. ‘We can’t ’ave yer mammy come a-running now, can we, eh?’ he panted.
In the shocking minutes that followed, he took her innocence, and coveted every part of her. And try as she could, she was helpless to stop him.
When it was over, and she was slumped to the floor, degraded and broken, he pointed down at her as he buttoned up his flies. ‘One word o’ this to anybody – anybody, mind – and I’ll set fire to the house … with all three of you buggers inside.’ He laughed, a dark, evil sound that sent ripples of terror through her every nerve-ending. ‘One dark night when yer think yer all safe, that’s when I’ll come a-prowling. Yer know I’d do it an’ all, don’t yer, eh?’ When she didn’t answer, he gave her a kick. ‘DON’T YER?’
Nodding, she kept her gaze to the wall.
‘There’s a good lass.’ He grinned with pleasure and cast one more lingering look at her naked thighs, smeared with a mixture of her blood and his seed.
Quickly now, he scurried to the ladder and began his descent. ‘Yer a woman now,’ he gloated. ‘What’s more, it took a man to mek yer blossom! Not some young whippersnapper who doesn’t know what day it is!’ He grinned and called up, ‘Pretend it were him, if yer like. That don’t bother me none. In fact, it might suit me all the way.’
A moment later he was gone, and she was alone; her young life ruined, and her hopes for the future torn apart.
Some short distance away, John paused to look back on his journey down Potts End Lane and out of Emily’s life. ‘I’ll keep my promise,’ he vowed, his gaze trained on the farmhouse where Emily lived. ‘However long it takes, I’ll be back, my love. And nothing will ever part us again.’
EMILY WAS AT the kitchen window, showing her daughter the newly-fallen layer of snow. ‘It’s Christmas Day tomorrow,’ she told the bairn. ‘Last year it rained all day, but look there!’ Excitedly she held the infant higher so she could see. ‘Your very first white Christmas!’ Last year had been wet and bitter, with never a sign of snow.
Made curious by the delicate manner in which the robin tripped across the snow’s surface to leave its tiny prints there, Emily did not notice the laden milk-cart approaching.
But now, as the infant began squealing and struggling to get out of her arms, Emily looked up. ‘What’s wrong, eh?’ Following the direction
