The Woman Who Left

by Josephine Cox

Genres: Family Life; Sagas

Synopsis

If your whole world changed, how would you cope?

Josephine Cox writes a unputdownable saga in The Woman Who Left - a tale of love, family and bitter rivalries. Perfect for fans of Cathy Sharp and Rosie Goodwin.

Louise and Ben Hunter's loving marriage is marred only by their unfulfilled longing for a child. Living and working with Ben's father, Ronnie, they are quietly contented. But when Ronnie dies, their whole world changes.

Ben's lazy brother, Jacob, returns, convinced he stands to inherit Ronnie's small fortune. And he means to have his brother's wife; though just as she did years before, Louise warns him off. Jacob, however, is not so easily dismissed. When he realises Ben will inherit everything, Jacob is beside himself with rage, and commits a terrible deed, one that threatens to destroy everything his brother and Louise hold dear...

What readers are saying about The Woman Who Left:

'Wonderful story - vivid, sad and heart-warming'

'I found this a really exciting story which kept you interested until the very end. An excellent read!'

'This book is brilliant - five stars'

Don't miss the heart-stopping sequel: Jinnie.

Release date: January 19, 2012

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 239

Sample

‘You there! Stop that dreadful noise!’ the woman shrieked at him from her bedroom window, but he didn’t hear. He was too engrossed in his whistling. It was a fine day and he was a fortunate man to be carrying on this trade, when others out there trudged the streets to work that brought them no joy.

For more years than he cared to remember, Mike Ellis had brought his horse and cart along Scab Lane, delivering milk to the isolated families who lived hereabouts. It was a job he had loved, and would be sad to leave.

All too soon, it would be time for him to put his feet up and let some other poor devil climb out of his bed at four in the morning. But that was a small price to pay for the sights you saw before the world came awake: foxes scurrying for their dens, hares leaping across the horizon, and every kind of night animal imaginable making for home and safety. At four o’clock on a summer’s morning like this, the skies were unbelievably beautiful . . . shot with wide, scintillating swathes of colour that few men were privileged to witness. Enthused by his happy lot, Mike began singing again, this time in an even louder voice.

Exasperated, the woman bawled, ‘Damn and bugger it, Mikey Ellis! Will ye stop that confounded racket!’

Hair on end and the sleep still on her, she hung out of the bedroom window. ‘You know I can’t be doing with all that noise first thing of a morning.’

‘Away with yer, Mabel, ye old misery,’ Mike replied with a grin. ‘You’ll miss me when I’m retired. Happen you’ll get a young fella-me-lad as couldn’t sing even if he tried, an’ it’d serve ye right, so it would.’ He drew the horse to a halt outside the white picket-gate. ‘So, what’ll it be today, then?’ Climbing down from his seat he patted the horse and gave it a knob of hay from his pocket. ‘Come on now, missus, let’s be having ye. I ain’t got all day.’

Gathering her wits, Mabel Preston gave a lazy yawn. ‘Just you wait there,’ she replied with a coy grin. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’

While he waited, Mike talked to the horse, like the old friend he was. ‘She’s a bit of a sourpuss,’ he confided. ‘By rights, I should be on my way to Maple Farm instead of hangin’ around here to be pounced on. Oh aye! I’ll get a smile from Louise Hunter, so I will – and a slice of cherry cake with a mug o’ tea to wash it down.’ He thought of Louise, and his expression softened. She was a good woman. Over the years she had faced some hard times and seen them away like the fighter she was.

He glanced warily at Mabel’s door. ‘This one’s different – fancies herself as every man’s pin-up, she does. She’ll be down here any minute now, hair combed and lipstick on, an’ with a smile on her face that’d put the fear o’ God into any man!’

The very thought made him shiver. ‘By! She thinks I don’t know that she’s got her sights set on me. I’m telling ye, that there Mabel Preston’s got it into her head that I need a wife now I’m on the point of retiring, but she’s got another think coming. What! She’d be after me every minute of the day. “Do this, do that. Out the bed with ye, Michael, there’s work to be done!” I can hear her now, God help me.’

A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him. Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ He turned every shade of pink. ‘I wouldn’t put it past her to demand her marital rights an’ all.’ His eyes rolled with terror. ‘By!’ he shuddered to the horse. ‘It don’t bear thinking about.’

Preparing to make his escape, he was brought to a sudden halt when she hissed in his ear, ‘Right then, Mikey, show me what you’ve got to offer.’

Swinging round, he gasped in dismay; Mabel Preston in full sail was a sight to daunt the bravest of men.

‘Well?’ When she smiled, he instinctively took a step backwards.

‘Well what?’ Mesmerised by her false teeth which flashed blindingly in the bright sunshine, he found himself rooted to the spot.

‘Oh, really!’ Spreading chubby hands over ample hips, she gave an unexpected twirl and almost knocked him over. ‘Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed my new dress.’

Hanging like a sack at the waist and so tight round the neck it made her eyes bulge, the dress in question was sickly-brown with great yellow sunflowers all over.

‘Well, what d’you think?’ She had no intention of letting him off the hook!

At that moment in time, with Mabel’s fat face plastered in make-up and her lips plumped out by those dazzling but ill-fitting teeth, poor Mike didn’t know what to think; however he knew he had better compliment her, or his life wouldn’t be worth living. ‘It’s . . .’ He gulped. ‘It’s lovely,’ he muttered lamely. ‘Just lovely!’

‘I knew you’d like it.’ Beaming with pleasure, she dared to give him a juicy wink. ‘Now then, you didn’t answer me.’

By now, the milkman was shaking. ‘Sure, I can’t for the life of me recall what ye said.’

Sidling closer, she murmured, ‘I asked what you had to offer.’ Her bushy eyebrows went up and down, like a couple of ferrets ready to pounce.

When Mike was nervous he always stuttered. He stuttered now. ‘I . . . don’t know what . . . ye mean!’

The woman tutted loudly. ‘Really, do I have to spell it out? What have you got on your cart today?’

Giving a great sigh of relief, Mike led the way to the back of the cart, where he threw off the tarpaulin to reveal a dozen sacks of potatoes, piled-up crates of milk, numerous boxes of freshly picked early plums and some large wicker baskets filled with newlaid eggs. ‘You’ll not get better wherever ye look,’ he told her, and she knew it was the truth.

Mabel quickly selected a dozen brown eggs, four large potatoes and a bottle of milk. ‘Will you come in for a cup of tea before you go?’ She made one last, valiant effort to interest him in what she herself had to offer. ‘I’ve a home-made apple tart just waiting to be sliced.’

Before he could reply, the sound of voices raised in anger made them turn their attention towards the spinney. ‘Sounds as though somebody’s squaring up for a fight.’ Losing no time and glad of the opportunity to escape her attentions, Mike ran towards the hedge. ‘Stay back, Mabel,’ he ordered, though not for one minute did he expect her to heed his warning.

Forcing his way through the bramble-hedge, he broke into the field behind her house. Mabel might have done the same but for the considerable width of her hips, not to mention the fact that the brambles could tear your skin to shreds.

‘It looks like the Hunter brothers.’ Keeping her distance, she peered through the hedge.

‘Stay back!’ Mike repeated, and this time she obeyed. ‘I’ll see what I can do. You away up to the farm . . . tell Louise her husband and his brother are out to kill each other.’ When she hesitated he bellowed at her. ‘Away with you, woman. Now!’

Trying her best to hurry, the poor woman slipped and fell right into a run of cowpats. Mike made no move to help her. This was no time for sympathy, he decided, not when the two men were already stripping off their shirts to settle the argument with bone and knuckle.

‘Get on with ye!’ he roared, and get on she did until, red-faced and fighting for breath, she stumbled to the bottom of the hill leading to Maple Farm. Here she paused to gather her strength before continuing at a pace more suited to a woman of her generous size and years.

While Mabel made haste to break the news to Louise, Michael ran across the field to try reasoning with the two brothers.

‘Clear off, you! It’s none of your damn business.’ That was Jacob, the eldest. Tall and thickset, with piercing blue eyes and long, untidy brown hair, he had already attracted a reputation for trouble.

The other young man was called Ben; shorter in stature than his brother, he had the same sturdy physique of their father before them. Dark-haired, with serious brown eyes, Ben was the more responsible of the two. ‘Best do as he says,’ he advised the old man. ‘There’s no reasoning with him. It’s gone way beyond that. Me and Jacob . . . we’ve a score to settle. It’s best we get it over and done with.’

The score he spoke of had to do with their late father and the accumulation of his life’s work.

In spite of his years, Mike was not easily dismissed. ‘The pair of youse should be ashamed of yerselves,’ he raged, ‘fighting and arguing, with your poor father lying in the chapel of rest not two miles away!’

When he took a step forward, Jacob suddenly rounded on him with clenched fists. ‘I warned you you old fool!’ Rushing at him, he took the milkman by the throat. But then he was suddenly fighting his own corner, when Ben marched up behind him and, spinning him round by the shirt collar, landed a crunching blow squarely on his chin.

Enraged, Jacob ran at him, head down like a battering ram. When his head collided hard with his brother’s mouth, the blood from Ben’s split lip sprayed out like a crimson shower. ‘Come on then, let’s have you!’ Beckoning with both hands, Jacob backed off, laughing and taunting as Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Glancing towards the old man to make sure he wasn’t hurt, Ben made one last plea to his brother. ‘Mike is right,’ he said. ‘We shouldn’t be fighting. Not now.’ His sorry gaze went to the hills and the town beyond. ‘What would he say?’

Jacob was like a crazy thing. ‘I don’t give a stuff for what he’d say. Happen he’d see you for the coward you are.’

Anger lit his brother’s eyes. ‘I’ve never been a coward in my life, and you know it!’

‘You’ve allus been a coward. Only he wouldn’t have it, would he, eh? Oh no! He thought the sun shone out of yer arse! Oh, but you were clever, I’ll give you that . . . toiling the land and working with him hand in glove. The poor old sod didn’t know what you were up to, but I was wise to you.’ The words spat out.

‘What are you saying?’ Ben’s voice was tight with rage.

‘What normal man would prefer to break his back working the land when he could be out in the big wide world, making his mark?’ Jacob sneered. ‘You stayed because you had in mind that one day all this would be yours.’ Flinging wide his arms he embraced the land about them. ‘You’re a cunning bastard, Ben Hunter, but don’t think you’ve done me out of what’s rightfully mine, because I’ll fight you tooth and nail all the way!’

‘Out with it.’ Knowing his brother from old, Ben sensed that Jacob was up to no good. ‘What’s your game, eh? You were the one who chose to leave all this behind. You didn’t want it before and you don’t want it now. I’ll never see the day dawn when you roll up your sleeves and bend your back to hard work.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘What you’re after is selling it to the highest bidder, isn’t that right?’

‘None o’ your business what I want with it. It’s mine – that’s all you need to know.’ Ben had hit the nail on the head and that rankled. ‘If you want a fight, I’ll give you one, any way you like.’ Though he feared his brother was more of a man than he would ever be.

Shamed by the whole sorry business, Ben gave it one more try. ‘Why can’t you understand? Dad really loved this land,’ he said softly. ‘It was his whole life.’

‘Pity!’

Ben knew there would be no peace until this was settled, so he laid down the terms. ‘I love it, too. I don’t know what Dad put down on paper, but I’ll tell you this. If he’s left it all to Mother, I’ll stand by her, the same way I stood by him. And not for any reward, but because like Dad, I love the land and the way of life here. And I swear to God . . . if he’s left me any part of this wonderful place, you’ll never get your hands on it, not unless you’re prepared to dirty them, the same as he did.’

Jacob laughed harshly. ‘D’you really expect me to believe that you don’t know what he put in his will? Liar! He’ll have left you the lot, make no mistake; God only knows you’ve had years enough to persuade him. He thought I could never compare with you, so I never tried. There was no point.’

‘You’re wrong, Jacob. He knew you didn’t like working the land and he came to accept that. Why d’you think he set you up with that delivery business? Good God, man! He even borrowed money against everything he owned, just so’s you could have your big chance.’

‘He wanted shut of me, that’s why.’

‘Don’t talk stupid.’ His heart heavy with emotion, Ben lashed him with the truth. ‘How many times did he beg you to stay? He even promised to build you a house here, but what did you do? You threw it all back in his face. “I want out” – that’s what you said, and you broke his heart. But he did what you asked. He gave you a business of your own and asked for nothing in return. Farming never made any man rich. You either love the land or hate it. I loved it and you couldn’t get away fast enough, that’s the truth of it.’

‘I told you . . . he wanted shut of me. He owed me a living, and that’s all there was to it.’

‘Did you ever wonder where he got the money from to set you up with delivery wagons and a warehouse right smack in the centre of town – not to mention contracts with the locals to get you started? O’ course not! Well, I’ll tell you. He mortgaged his home and his farm; something he swore all his life he would never do. Afterwards, it played on his mind. He couldn’t rest until it was paid off. Morning, noon and night, he worked like a dog, until every penny was repaid.’

Tears filled Ben’s eyes. ‘And yes, you’re right. I did work alongside him and was proud of it. And shall I tell you why? Because I loved that man, more than you could ever know. And if he’s thought to leave me here, where I’m content, I’ll thank him to my dying day.’

‘That’s ’cause you’re a coward,’ Jacob repeated viciously. ‘A cissy who’d rather hide away in this godforsaken place than get out and face the real world. You and him, you were just the same – both cowards. Both afraid of the world beyond these fields. At least I went out and did my best.’

‘No, you didn’t! You threw it all back in his face . . . wasted all his efforts to look after you. Women, boozing, driving flash cars, up to your ears in every shady deal that comes along – that’s you, Jacob. That’s why you want to get your hands on his land . . . to get your business out of trouble and finance your high-living. And when this land’s gone, and all the money with it, you’ll find a way of cheating somebody else out of everything they cherish. Dad had you down for what you are: a user. You’ll never change.’

His brother laughed in his face. ‘Well, you see, I always did know how to enjoy myself. But I’m back now, and like I say, I intend laying claim to what’s rightfully mine. I am the eldest, don’t forget, and it’s time I put you in your place. Since I’ve been gone you seem to have taken over.’

‘If you think that, why didn’t you make your way back when Dad was alive, when he needed you? When we both needed you.’

‘You know why – because he would have sent me packing. But he’s not here now, is he?’ His face contorted with loathing. ‘And I can’t say I’m too sorry about that!’

His cruel taunts hit hard. With a roar, Ben lunged at him, and each time he was thrust aside, he came at him again. For his part, Jacob gave as good as he got; and though the fighting was terrible to see, there was no victor, for one was as strong as the other.

Helpless, Mike Ellis watched until he could bear it no longer. Torn and blood-spattered, the brothers were locked in a struggle so vicious it would take more than one old man to separate them.

Taking to his heels, Mike ran to the hedge and scoured the horizon. ‘If anybody can stop them, it’s Louise,’ he said aloud. But there was no sign of her. ‘Where the devil is she?’

Convinced they would kill each other if they weren’t stopped, the old man set off at an awkward run towards the farmhouse, to find the only person who might make the brothers see sense.

The more she chased the mongrel, the more he enjoyed it . . . diving in and out of the line, off down the path one minute and into the shed the next.

That was where she cornered him – in the shed. ‘You little sod!’ Breathless and laughing, she persuaded him to drop Sally’s bloomers, which by now needed a second wash. ‘You rascal, you.’

Even so, she had to laugh at herself. ‘You had me running a right old dance.’ Stuffing the bloomers under her arm, she confided, ‘If it were up to me, you could have these awful bloomers for dinner, but they’re Sally’s, not mine, thank God, and I’ve been entrusted with their safekeeping, so you’re not having them, however much you might wink your little eye.’ Boris had a habit of closing one eye and laughing with the other, which gave the appearance of a mischievous wink.

Making her way back to the washing line, Louise kept a wary eye on him. ‘Don’t you dare!’ she threatened when it seemed he might make a beeline for the washing basket. Wagging a finger, she dropped the bloomers into the basket and afterwards, hoisted the prop as high as she could get it to keep the washing out of his reach.

With the washing safe and the basket tucked securely under her arm, she took a moment to look out across the valley, the magnificence of it taking her breath away, as always.

It was a beautiful scene, with the valley sweeping away to the river, seeming to merge with the skies when it climbed away up the other side. The recent showers had quenched the parched earth and now the fields spread out before her, like velvet patchwork beneath the blue, sunny skies. There was contentment here in this lovely place, she mused. It had an uncanny way of quieting the soul.

Her thoughts turned to her father-in-law, Ronnie Hunter, a man she had loved and respected. ‘This was his little piece of heaven,’ she sighed. ‘We’ll miss him, that’s for sure.’

Blinking away the tears, she let her mind picture him in the field; she could see him clearly now – a short, round figure, strong and solid, though slightly stooped at the shoulders from his many years working the land. He would always walk his dog along the same track, stopping every now and then to pick a flower for his beloved wife, Sally. ‘Aye, she’ll miss you an’ all.’ Glancing towards the cottage, Louise gave a wistful little smile. ‘Sally’s tekken it badly. But we’ll help her through,’ she promised. ‘God willing, we’ll help each other.’

From inside the cottage, Sally looked out the window to see her daughter-in-law in deep thought. ‘You’re a good lass,’ she whispered, her fond gaze taking in Louise’s slim figure and strong stance, and the way her long brown hair lifted in the breeze. ‘Eh, love, it’s been a sorry few days. God only knows what I would have done without you.’

She ambled away from the kitchen window and eased herself into the rocking chair beside the empty firegrate. She looked up at the mantelpiece, and at the photograph of her late husband – a jolly-faced fellow with bright blue eyes. ‘You silly old fool!’ she chided him gently. ‘What did you want to go and leave me for, eh?’

The tears trembled in her smile. ‘We had some good years together, you and me,’ she murmured. ‘I wouldn’t change one day of it.’

Then the smile slipped away, and the aging features stiffened. ‘Except for that lazy, no-good son of ours!’ She recalled the day she had brought her firstborn into the world; such joy and high hopes, only to be dashed the minute he could decide for himself.

‘Thinking of him now, she felt heavy-hearted. Jacob was born bad,’ she whispered. ‘’Tweren’t nobody’s fault. He could have shouldered his responsibilities like a man. Instead he turned his back on all of us. A waster and a liar, that’s what he is, and I rue the day I ever gave birth to him.’

Her voice shook with emotion. ‘Even when he’d been told you were so poorly, he made no effort to come home, to say his goodbyes.’ She paused, unable for a moment to go on.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled wryly at the photograph. ‘Oh, he’ll show up for the reading of the will all right, you can be sure o’ that! Truth be told, I’m surprised he’s not already sniffling about, looking to cause trouble, like always.’ She shook her tiny fist in the air. ‘Let him try, that’s all. Just let him try!’

A moment or so later, her fast-beating heart had quietened. She closed her eyes and was beginning to nod off, when Louise’s urgent voice woke her up. ‘I’ve to get off down the bottom field,’ she cried. ‘Mabel’s here – she says them two buggers are down in the valley, looking to kill each other, by all accounts!’

Her face drained white, Sally clambered out of the chair. ‘I knew it!’ she gasped. ‘I knew he’d be back to cause trouble.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ the younger woman consoled her. ‘He’ll not get the best of our Ben, you know that. An’ he’ll not get the better o’ me neither.’

Ushering Mabel in, she explained, ‘Mabel’s agreed to sit with you till I get back.’ To their visitor she said, ‘Put the kettle on, won’t you. Mek the pair of youse a brew, an’ I’ll be back afore you can say Jack Robinson.’

Leaving the women to settle themselves, Louise lost no time in making for the bottom field. ‘Sal was right,’ she muttered. ‘It was only a matter of time before he came back here, looking for trouble. With his dad out of the way, he’ll have his mind set on taking over, or so he thinks.’

She quickened her steps. Jacob was well known to be a bad lot. When he wanted something badly enough, he usually got it one way or another. But not this time, she thought bitterly. If there was any justice, he’d not get his mucky hands on this farm . . .

She paused, catching her breath and thinking back over the years to a time when Jacob had had a yearning for her. ‘An’ if he thinks he can get his hands on me after all this time, he can damned well think again.’ Ten years ago, she had rejected him in favour of Ben – a decision she had never regretted, and one for which Jacob had never forgiven her.

‘Hurry, Louise!’ Mike Ellis had seen her making her way down and ran to the hedge to urge her on. ‘For God’s sake hurry, afore they kill each other!’ He had never been more thankful to see her.

In a matter of minutes she was beside him. ‘There!’ Pointing to the river, he told her, Jacob’s got yer man under the water. You’ve got to stop ’em, lass, or there’ll be murder an’ no mistake.’

With the little milkman stumbling behind, she went like the wind across the field towards the river; and on the way taking a precious minute to retrieve a shovel from the old barn.

With the shovel secure in her hands she rounded the bank and there they were, as Mike had said, intent on killing each other. Jacob had Ben by the throat and was about to duck him in the water again, but Ben was too quick for him and, grabbing him by the legs, he pulled him under. Once he had him at his mercy, it seemed he might keep him there until the last breath was gone. ‘Stop it!’ Louise screamed out. ‘Have you both gone mad or what?’

Startled, Ben glanced up. As he did so, Jacob took his chance. Knocking Ben off his feet, he first smashed his fist into his face, before thrusting him beneath the water and holding him there; the more Ben struggled, the harder Jacob pressed him down. By the look on his face, he meant to finish his brother off, once and for all.

Horrified, Louise ran at him; swinging the shovel she landed it smack on the centre of his back. ‘You little bitch!’ With a roar he grabbed at the shovel and when she clung to it, he drew her towards him, the scowl on . . .