Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox

you and me goes no further.’

      Dr Lucas nodded. ‘I believe we’ve already agreed on that.’

      ‘And do I have your word, as a gentleman?’

      ‘As a gentleman and a doctor, yes.’

      Barney shook him by the hand. ‘Goodbye. I won’t be coming to see you again.’

      He left then, a wiser, sadder man. A man who knew what must be done, and had to find the courage to see it through.

       Chapter 18

      ‘EXCUSE ME, MISS … I believe this is your stop.’

      The bus conductor had noticed how Lucy was not watching the landmarks. Instead, she was sat deep in thought, in the far corner, sometimes looking out of the window, sometimes with her eyes closed. Now, staring ahead, she appeared to have no idea of her surroundings.

      Startled by his concerned tap on the shoulder, Lucy thanked him and made her way to the platform. When the bus came to a halt, she quickly clambered off.

      It had been comfortingly quiet on the bus, but now as she set off in the direction of the church, the noise and bustle of Liverpool was all around her; the clatter of horse and cart, the smell and sound of petrol-driven vehicles; the sight of rich women in furs, poor women in thin coats and men in suits, all going about their business. This was Friday, a day when people looked forward to their weekend and couldn’t wait for the day to end. But for Lucy, since losing her child, every day seemed the same.

      Leaving the mayhem behind, she came up the rise towards the church. The further from the centre she got, the more the wind seemed to swirl and blow. Beginning to shiver, Lucy drew her coat more tightly about her.

      Taking the side path, she went along by the hedge and into the churchyard; little Jamie’s resting-place was to the right of the gate under the oak-tree. Lucy had chosen St Saviour’s as she had come to Sunday school here as a child, and had happy memories of it. The church at Comberton now seemed tainted, somehow, with the evil of Edward Trent.

      Removing a handkerchief from her coat-pocket she wiped it over the small cross, which was temporarily erected until a marble heart could be set there. After laying down the posy of pretty leaves, together with a small toy, she knelt down to tell Jamie how much she missed and loved him. As always, she imagined him in her mind; toddling in the garden and chuckling as she chased him, and the tears were never far away.

      After a while, when the cold seemed to penetrate her bones, she said a heartfelt goodbye. ‘I’ll see you again soon, my darling.’

      In the church, she lit a candle to guide her child on his way to Heaven, and when the flame flickered and danced to life, she remained there for some long time, asking questions of the Lord. What had she done that was so wicked He had to take her baby? What would she do now without him? Why had the police not caught Edward Trent and brought him to a harsh punishment? And finally, would He please take care of Barney and the Davidson family on their long journey to a new life?

      A short time later, spent of emotion, Lucy made her way back to the bus-stop. As she clambered on the bus, she caught sight of Barney. Emerging from a public-house and somewhat unsteady on his feet, he had a woman clinging to his arm.

      Laughing together, they set off down the street and were soon gone.

      Falling into her seat, Lucy was riveted with shock. She had recognised the woman as being a close friend and colleague of Bridget’s, and knowing the nature of her business, Lucy found it hard to understand what Barney was doing in her company. She suspected also, if his unsteady gait was anything to go by, that he had been drinking. That in itself was astonishing, because as far as Lucy knew, Barney enjoyed the occasional glass of something only when the occasion demanded.

      Convincing herself that there must be an innocent explanation, she vowed to ask him next time they met.

      On arriving home, she went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. ‘Make one for me while you’re at it.’ Bridget almost fell into the room. ‘I’ve been trudging round the shops for hours and I’ve got a throat like sandpaper.’

      She threw down a heap of bags and sitting herself at the table, she told Lucy, ‘I’ve left the girls searching for new outfits. They’ve bagged a lucrative job for next week, escorting some London businessmen about town. Lord knows, if we’re to put the business on a more respectable footing, they’ll need to look their best.’

      With her mind still on Barney and the woman, Lucy heard not a word. ‘Three sugars, isn’t it?’ she asked, beginning to spoon it out of the bag.

      ‘Best make it four,’ the woman advised. ‘I’m shattered, so I am!’

      When Lucy placed her cup and saucer before her, Bridget noticed how preoccupied she seemed. ‘What’s wrong wit’ you? You’ve got a face like a wet weekend.’

      ‘Nothing.’ Lucy sat down with her tea and took a sip of it.

      ‘Aw now, don’t give me that.’ The big Irishwoman wagged a finger. ‘I’ve known you long enough to spot when something is wrong, so out with it! What’s on your mind?’

      Hesitating for a second or two, Lucy told her, ‘I’ve just seen Barney Davidson coming out of a pub, and he was drunk … or near as dammit.’

      ‘I see.’ Bridget raised her cup to her mouth and took a long slurp. ‘And ye are sure it was Barney ye saw?’

      ‘I’m certain.’

      Bridget peered at her over the rim of her cup. ‘Was he alone?’

      ‘No. He was with a woman.’ She hesitated to say it was one of Bridget’s friends.

      ‘I see.’

      When Bridget next spoke, it was to give Lucy a warning. ‘Don’t get mixed up in what you don’t understand,’ she cautioned. ‘What Barney does or doesn’t do is none of our business.’

      From Bridget’s reaction, Lucy suspected she knew more than she was saying. As the realisation dawned, she confronted her. ‘You knew all about it, didn’t you?’ she demanded. ‘You knew Barney was drinking and womanising. Don’t deny it, because I can see it in your face!’

      ‘All right, yes, I did. In fact, I’m told it’s been going on for some time, and now it seems he doesn’t give a bugger who sees him! But I didn’t think it was my place to tittle-tattle. If Barney Davidson has a problem, he’ll deal with it. Doesn’t he always?’ Not wishing to be drawn onto dangerous ground, Bridget quickly drank up her tea, took her shopping and went upstairs with it. ‘I’ll see youse later,’ she called back.

      Unable to get Barney out of her mind, Lucy vowed to visit the Davidsons that evening. ‘I’ve got to go and see him,’ she muttered as she helped Tillie to peel the potatoes for dinner. ‘I need to ask him outright.’ She knew him well enough to do that.

      Barney had been preying on her mind a great deal of late; behaving strangely, going away for hours on his own, and now this. In the beginning, she had thought it might be the trauma of what had happened that night, but drinking in a public-house with such a woman; arm-in-arm in the street and laughing as if he didn’t give a damn who saw him … this was not the Barney she knew and loved. In the wake of Jamie’s death, her embarrassingly romantic feelings towards him had vanished; but now they had resurfaced and she couldn’t help it, he was never out of her thoughts. It was getting to the stage where she was afraid to look Vicky in the eye, in case her friend read the truth on her face.

      Later that evening, when dinner was over and the kitchen at 23, Viaduct Street was spick and span, Lucy put on her hat and coat and set off for Overhill Farm.

      As she went up the path to the front door she heard raised voices and the sound of a door slamming. Suddenly, the front door was flung open and Susie came rushing