Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

On the other hand, how could he stay, when that maniac had promised to harm her? And even though he was ready to guard and protect her with his life, how could he stop Jackson from carrying out his threat?

Balancing against a tree, he slowly shed his outer garments. His best shirt was torn and bloody; every part of his body hurt abominably. He knew he was lucky to be alive, and that by nightfall he would probably be in agony, once a lot of the shock had worn off. As he reached the water and slid into its cold, shocking depths, he considered the options open to him. He could defy Jackson and stay, which would mean risking Emily’s well-being. Or he could go, and live a life of loneliness without her. And what of Emily? He had seen the love in her eyes, and it warmed his heart. But she would get over him, and in time maybe he, too, would learn to live without her. Oh, but it was a sorry prospect, and one he would rather not face.

There were other options, he reminded himself. He could do away with Jackson – an ‘accident’ maybe, one dark night, across the far fields where the man often walked. If he planned it carefully, no one would ever know it was him.

He mentally shook himself. God Almighty! He was talking murder! If he was found out, he’d be hanged and Emily would be on her own just the same. Even worse, she would have to live with the shame and horror of what he had done. And what about Lizzie? She and Emily were the two people he loved most in the whole world. How could he do such a terrible thing to them?

Suddenly the full horror of what he was considering hit him like a hammer blow. No! Murder was not an option.

He wondered whether Aggie might allow him and Emily to get wed? But he already knew the answer to that. ‘Emily is far too young,’ she would say. ‘You haven’t known each other long enough to know your own minds.’ And Emily’s grandfather would agree with that wholeheartedly. The whole idea of marriage would be thrown out of the window. In fact, the mere mention of it might result in him being forbidden to see Emily again, until she was older.

What if he were to warn Aggie of the threat Jackson had made to her daughter? They could take it in turns to watch him. But no, that wouldn’t work either. Aggie already had more than enough on her hands. Besides, even with the two of them on guard, they couldn’t watch Jackson twenty-four hours a day. He was a devious, evil creature, and if he set out to do something, he was bound to do it. That was the nature of the man.

The authorities then? Another bad idea, because even if he went to the police and told them of Jackson’s threat to Emily, Clem was such a clever liar, he was bound to come out on top.

While he washed away some of the physical hurt, John’s mind was frantically searching for guidance. Maybe he could go back to Jackson and try to reason with him? But the man had no reasoning powers in him. Should he fight him, then? In a fair fight, he might be able to bring him to his knees … send him on his way. He reminded himself that Jackson was like no ordinary man. He would simply crawl away like some injured wild animal, to lick his wounds and bide his time. Then he’d be back, more dangerous and determined than ever.

After a while, chilled through and beginning to shiver, John climbed out and stood in the sun; it was good to feel the warmth on his bruised ribcage and back. But there was no warmth in his soul, for he was torn in so many ways. Time and again he had to remind himself: it was Emily he had to think of. Not himself. Not that maniac. Only Emily. But what to do?

With his whole body shivering uncontrollably, he fumbled on his clothes and began to walk home. He could think of nothing except his Emily. Even if she was aware of the danger, she would still want him to stay – he was as sure of that as he was sure of his love for her. She had such spirit.

He smiled. That was just one of the facets of her nature that made him love her so. Then, sighing, his heart once more heavy, he made his way home.

Taking full advantage of the morning sunshine, Lizzie Hanley was busy pegging out the washing. A small round person in her latter years, she was a quick, familiar figure. With bright green eyes, homely face and a halo of silver hair, she took great pleasure from the ordinary things that brightened her day: the trill of a blackbird overhead, the bees’ contented buzz as they gathered nectar, and the feel of a mischievous breeze as it tugged at stray hairs in her bun and tickled her face with them.

Just then, a long-eared hare on the skyline stood up on its hindquarters to stare at her. She stared back … only for a moment, and then it was gone. She smiled. This was her place. This was her life. And she was grateful for it.

Having used two pegs to hang out her long red-flannel nightgown, she promptly wedged another two in her mouth while she bent to the wicker-basket and lifted a damp sheet from the pile of freshly laundered items there.

Immersed in her task, she didn’t realise John was approaching. Always a happy soul, she sang to herself – a strange, muffled melody as it filtered through the two wooden pegs clenched in her teeth.

It was only when she heard a sound behind her that she swung round to see him standing there, his face swollen and bruised, and the wet shirt on his back clinging to him like a second skin. ‘Good Lord!’ Dropping the sheet to the ground, she spat out the pegs and took hold of him. ‘What in God’s name happened to you?’ Without waiting for an answer she propelled him inside, with John protesting all the way, ‘I’m all right, Auntie. Don’t fuss.’

But fuss she did, because it was her way. Moreover, she could see he’d been badly hurt, and knowing him, she suspected he was in more pain than he would ever admit.

Inside the pretty thatched cottage, John sat by the fire-range, his thoughts still with Emily. He had searched for an answer and now he knew what must be done.

‘Who’ve you been fighting?’ Returning with a bowl of hot water and a cloth, Lizzie set them down on the table, together with arnica and some strips of clean soft cotton from an old sheet.

Seeming not to have heard her, and disturbed by his own thoughts, John stood up and moved to the window, from where he looked out on the garden; it was such a pretty garden, with a winding gravel-path flanked by blossom of all kinds, and all of it lovingly tended by his Aunt Lizzie’s hand.

She came to stand by his side. ‘When a man’s been fighting,’ she said softly, ‘it’s usually over some woman or other.’ She tugged at his shirtsleeve. ‘You’d best get outta these wet things.’

‘You’re right.’ He turned. ‘You might as well know … I’ve had a bit of a set-to with Clem Jackson.’

The old woman nodded grimly. ‘Aye, I thought as much.’ She gestured to the injuries on his neck and temple. ‘He didn’t do those with his fists neither, did he?’

‘I’d best get out of these wet clothes, like you said.’

Lizzie barred his way. ‘Was it because of the lass?’

John nodded.

She sighed knowingly. ‘I’ve seen it coming. You and the lass, making up to each other like a pair o’ young doves. Oh yes, I’ve seen trouble brewing for some weeks now.’ She looked up at him. ‘Aw, look now! You’re both too young to be getting serious.’

‘I love her.’ His voice dropped to the merest whisper. ‘I always will.’

Again she gestured to his wounds. ‘Looks to me like you’ve been warned off.’

He gave a little smile. ‘You could say that.’

‘Does young Emily know you’ve been beaten because of her?’

‘Not yet.’ He limped back to the chair, but he didn’t sit. Instead he leaned against the arm. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be told soon enough.’

‘This is not good, son.’ Though she was his aunt and not his mother, Lizzie had called him ‘son’ from the first day he was given into her care at the age of five. He had made her life a happy one, but now she was deeply worried. She wagged a podgy finger. ‘Happen the two of you had better stay away from each other for the time being?’

John appreciated her concern, but this was something he had to deal with in his own way. ‘Leave it to me, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘You know I’ll do the right thing by her.’

The old dear was penitent. ‘Oh lad, I didn’t mean to interfere, and o’ course I know you’ll do the right thing … but it’s got me worried, what with Clem Jackson calling the tune at that house, and now you coming home in this state. There’s things here that I don’t much care for … bad things! Just you be careful. That’s all I’m saying.’

‘You’re not to worry.’ Laying his two hands on her shoulders, he promised, ‘Like I say, I’ll deal with it.’

And for the moment, as he climbed the narrow stairway to his room, she had to be content with that.

Concerned that she might have missed him, and wondering if she’d made a mistake about the time or the place, Emily made her way home.

Aggie saw her coming. ‘Where’ve you been, lass?’ That was always her first question whenever Emily returned from her wanderings. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’

Emily glanced at the mantelpiece clock, surprised to see she’d been away for almost two hours. ‘I’ve been down by the brook,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I didn’t realise I was gone so long.’

Aggie wondered whether she should tell her about John being here, and how Clem had beaten him with the butt of his gun. Deciding there was really no way out of it, she went straight in. ‘Lass, I want to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.’ She smiled. ‘But then you allus do.’

Going to the larder, she took down two china beakers and a jug of home-made sarsaparilla covered with a muslin and bead cloth to keep away the flies. She half-filled the beakers with a measure of the dark brown liquid, and handing one of them to Emily, she urged, ‘Sit down for a minute, lass.’ She pointed to the rocking-chair by the window, where she herself had been sitting only a few minutes since. At the same time she drew up another chair close by. ‘We need to talk, you an’ me.’

Emily did as she was told, and when she was seated, she asked curiously, ‘What’s wrong?’ She only had to look at her mammy’s face to realise there was trouble of some kind, and it didn’t take long for her to realise it must have something to do with Clem Jackson. If ever there was any trouble round here, you could depend on him being at the centre of it.

Seating herself opposite, Aggie looked her daughter in the eye. ‘It’s about you and John,’ she said quietly. ‘It seems you’ve been keeping me in the dark, and because of it, Clem’s got his back up. And now, this very morning while you’ve been away, there’s been a right set-to. I’m sorry, lass, but I’m none too pleased.’ She gave the girl her sternest stare. ‘Happen none of this would have come about if you’d been open with me from the start!’ Though she adored Emily, she didn’t take kindly to her keeping secrets from her.

Emily was taken by surprise. ‘What do you mean, trouble?’ she asked worriedly. ‘What kind of trouble?’

‘The worst kind. Even Grandad got himself involved.’ When Emily opened her mouth to ask after the old man, Aggie put up a staying hand. ‘It’s all right,’ she assured her. ‘The silly old fool didn’t get hurt, thank God, but it could have been very different.’

‘I’m sorry, Mam.’ Emily knew she should have confided in her, but she hadn’t known herself how serious were her feelings for John. Not until last night, when he took her in his arms and made her feel like the most important person in the whole wide world. ‘I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.’

Brushing aside her apology, Aggie needed to know: ‘How far has it gone with you and John?’

Emily was embarrassed by her mother’s question.