Josephine Cox - Lovers and Liars

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollins Publishers2004

Copyright © Josephine Cox 2004

Josephine Cox asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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EBook Edition © MARCH 2012 ISBN 9780007373116

Version: 2017-08-16

COVER

TITLE PAGE JOSEPHINE COX

COPYRIGHT

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

PART TWO

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

PART THREE

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

PART FOUR

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

PART FIVE

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

PART SIX

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

OTHER WORKS

CHATTERBOX

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

IT WAS THE most glorious summer’s day, but even as the sun warmed her face and the sound of birdsong thrilled her ears, Emily Ramsden’s young heart trembled with fear as she hurried stealthily from the house.

He was in there. He must not suspect what she was up to, or her life would not be worth living.

Running across the yard, she was oblivious to the sharp mounds of dried mud and rough hoggin that sliced open the soles of her bare feet. She was desperate to get as far from the farmhouse as possible, away from prying eyes and into the upper reaches of the old hayloft. From there, she would know if anyone approached. He hasn’t caught me yet, she thought defiantly. He won’t catch me today, neither!

Something was about to happen, but as yet she didn’t know what. All she had been told was, ‘Be at the usual place, at the usual time, and there might be cause to celebrate.’

Excitement raced through her. She could hardly wait. In fact, she was far too early, so she had time enough to waste.

Overnight there had been a torrent of rain, still evident in the many puddles and flooded potholes along the walkways of Potts End Farm. Though the sun was already beginning to dry them up, there were still places where the squelchy earth pushed up and squeezed between her toes, creating long, thin sausages like her mammy made. It was uncomfortable and messy, but it didn’t matter. She would run down to the brook later, and wash her feet in the fresh, cool water.

With that in mind, she happily gathered the hem of her long skirt and splashed her way through.

Yet in the midst of her excitement the fear was never far away. He was never far away.

Nearing the barn, she felt a deep sense of relief. Soon, she would be safe.

Safe! She groaned inwardly. Not so long ago she’d felt safe all the time. But ever since he had arrived, their lives had changed for the worse – until it seemed she and her mammy and dear old Grandad would never be safe again.

‘I won’t let him ruin everything!’ the girl muttered to herself. ‘Especially not today.’ Her heart almost burst with pride at the thought of her lover. ‘Today is our day … mine and John’s.’

Yet even as she drew pleasure from the sights and sounds around her, she had no way of knowing that this day would prove to be the worst day of her life.

Emily Ramsden was such a pretty little thing. Small and slim, with thick plaits of sun-kissed brown hair and warm, smiling eyes the colour of nutmeg, she had a loving nature and a gentle heart.

At only sixteen years of age, a girl trembling on the brink of womanhood, she worked as hard on the family farm as did any of the hired labour, and through her generosity and honest demeanour, she had earned the respect and affection of men and women alike.

Yet there was one man in particular who yearned for more than a friendly word or an innocent smile. This was a man without compassion or decency. Just lately, his avaricious eyes were following her every move, his cravings growing stronger every passing day.

Now, just as she reached the clearing in front of the barn, she heard the kitchen door being flung open. When his angry voice called out, her heart sank like a lead weight. How had he known? She had been as quiet as a mouse, and still he must have heard her leaving the house.

Quickly, before he could see her, she dodged behind the huge pile of newly-chopped logs, her heart beating so fast she was certain he must hear it. Whatever happened, he mustn’t find her! These days, ever since he had rescued Potts End Farm financially, her Uncle Clem ruled their lives with an almost insane passion, and though it was against her nature, Emily had learned to hate him with that same passion.

‘ Emily! ‘ his familiar voice boomed out. ‘ You’d best not be skiving again, or you’ll feel the crack o’ my belt across yer bare arse! ‘ In that same instant, Emily recognised the ominous whistle of his thin leather belt as it sliced through the air. She knew that sound as well as her own heartbeat, for all too often, she had felt the sting of his belt across the back of her legs.

Stealing into the barn, she softly closed the door and instantly felt more at ease in the twilight of that great dark place.

‘YER BUGGER, WHERE ARE YER?’ His voice shook with rage. ‘WHAT THE DEVIL ARE YOU UP TO, YER LITTLE BITCH?’

Emily pressed herself against the cobwebby wall and, for what seemed an age, she hardly dared breathe. To comfort herself, she clutched the locket John had given her on her sixteenth birthday, and which she wore hidden beneath her pinafore. Within lay a lock of his hair. It was so romantic! She loved to feel that a part of him was so close to a part of her.