The Night He Left: Episode 60

Ann saw a figure approaching in the light from the lamppost. He wore a top hat and walked briskly, his tall walking cane tapping in rhythm

Half an hour later, Ann peered inside her children’s bedroom. All she could hear was the gentle rise and fall of contented breathing. She drew the door to and tiptoed down the stairs towards the front door. She pushed it open very slowly, so the hinges did not creak.

Mrs Baxter had said to her at breakfast that morning that she thought she heard a noise in the night and had nearly sent her husband to scour the house.

How was that possible, Ann thought, from their cottage at the back – but she knew her housekeeper was a notoriously bad sleeper.

Ann had reassured her by saying that their presence nearby made her feel calm at all times during the night and that she mustn’t worry about a thing.

Any noise must have been one of the children tossing around in bed.

Mrs Baxter was becoming a busybody, Ann thought, she must be watched.

The chill night air enveloped her as she pulled the door gently closed.

She tiptoed onto the grass, avoiding the noisy gravel, then headed for Riverside Drive.

Voluminous

Patting the large pockets of her voluminous cloak, she disappeared into the dark night.

It was 10 minutes before midnight – the timing was perfect.

She sat on a bench on the promenade by the riverbank and thought of all the times she had been there before, with her husband, her children, her neighbours.

It was the ideal place to see the river, the sun sparkling on the water during summer.

The children would run the length of the promenade with their hoops and watch the boats bob on the water.

Now, though, the water was black and still and there were no other people to be seen.

Ann looked to her left and saw a figure approaching in the light from the lamppost.

He wore a top hat and walked briskly, his tall walking cane tapping in rhythm. It was Robert and he was shivering.

He always felt the cold, having been brought up in large houses with roaring fires and swaddled in warm clothes.

She continued to sit on the dark bench as he drew nearer.

He tipped his hat and sat down. “As ever, you do not even shiver, sitting here in the freezing cold.”

“I am not cold, Robert.” She turned to look at him and smiled.

“How are the children?”

“They are well, as ever. How blessed we are.” She delved into her pocket and brought out a little flask with a small tumbler on top.

“I have brought you a little drink, Robert. I had anticipated you might be cold and brought you a warming dram.”

She poured some dark liquid from the flask into the tumbler and handed it to him.

He tipped it all down in one then shook his head. “My, that was strong. Where in God’s name did Baxter buy that whisky from?”

“I believe it was a New Year gift, Robert.”

She took the tumbler from him and put it on the bench, then peeled off her gloves and took her husband’s cold hands in her own warm ones.

“Tell me your plans, my dear. How was your journey?”

She attempted affection, though all she felt was rage.

“First of all I must tell you the truth, unpalatable though it is. I do feel I owe that to you before what I am soon to do.”

She bit her lip.

Gasped

“There was someone I was to take to Australia with me. A woman I planned to spend the rest of my life with.”

He swallowed. “It was Janet Clark, that poor girl Aunt Euphemia had to identify.”

Ann gasped out loud; she must feign shock. “How could you do this to me?”

He cleared his throat and continued, speaking quietly.

“We were perfect together, Ann. Not like us, a marriage of convenience for you, and for me a foolish youthful error, out of which the only good things to come were our two children.”

Ann began fumbling in her pocket, but said nothing.

“On Friday, I did not go to Glasgow. I travelled instead to Tayport, where Janet lived.

“I arrived at the cottage on the shore and was greeted at the door by a girl. I realised she was Janet’s sister, poor soul, she is rather simple.

“Though I’d met her once before, she did not want to speak to me at first, for it was obvious she had something to hide.

“Eventually I got it out of her that her father, a mussel fisherman, had been at home on that fated Sunday when Janet had returned to pack.

“He is a violent man and so she had tried to avoid an encounter with him.

“She thought he would be at church, but he was at home, nursing a hangover.

“That Sunday was the day we were to meet at Leuchars station to take the train for Edinburgh and thence to Liverpool for the ship to Tasmania.”

Robert stopped speaking and turned abruptly to his wife. “There is something else, Ann, something important. She was with child.”

“Oh, dear God.”

Reputable

“Yes, she was expecting our child. It was all to be so good, a new life down in Australia, but then...”

His shoulders slumped and he yawned widely. Good, thought Ann, the tincture is taking effect. “According to the sister, who was hiding, unseen, her father noticed her condition; how could he not, though she was some four months from delivery, she was slender as a willow.

“So she told him the father of her child was a great man, of reputable family, wealthy, a man who would make a lady of her and...”

“What, like he made of his wife? His wife, Robert, not some maid with loose morals!”

Her voice rose to a crescendo. “Who beds you without a thought for his family at home.”

They both looked around, but there was no one to hear.

More tomorrow.

Sue Lawrence is a popular novelist as well as a cookery book author. The Night He Left is published by Freight. Down to the Sea, her first historical mystery, was published by Contraband in 2019. Sue’s latest book, The Unreliable Death of Lady Grange, was published in March by Saraband.