In Search of Hope Read Online Free Page B

because her hair had fallen back. There was a huge new bruise on her cheekbone, just below a black eye. He knew the signs only too well. Someone had thumped her – hard.
    Drops of moisture spattered his cheeks and he looked up at the dark clouds, which were piling up ominously. Well, the weather people had forecast storms for this evening and, for once, they were right. He couldn’t leave these two out here. ‘Come inside out of the rain. I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can tell me what brought you here.’
    She hesitated.
    He spoke very gently. ‘I was a friend of Rose’s and I don’t beat women. Or little boys.’
    Her pallor was replaced by a flush and she looked ashamed now. It always upset him when victims of domestic abuse looked as if
they
had done something wrong.
    It began to rain in earnest and he gestured towards his house again, not daring to touch her. ‘Come inside, or you and the boy will be soaked.’
    She followed him inside, staying near the door, looking nervous.
    ‘I’ve got a fire in the back room. This way.’
    Again there was a hesitation but the little boy ran forward, calling out, ‘It’s warm in here, Mummy.’
    Joss followed the boy and she hurried after him. ‘Yes, it is warm here,’ he said to the child. ‘Why don’t you sit on that little stool in front of the fire? My nephew uses it when he comes to visit. He’s five.’
    ‘I’m four. I’m a big boy now.’ He watched Joss move across to the cooker and put the kettle on, then turned his head to make sure his mother was still there.
    ‘Tea or coffee?’ Joss asked. She was leaning against the door frame as if her bones weren’t strong enough to hold her up. He didn’t try to touch her again. ‘You might as well sit down. Look, if it makes you feel safer, I’m an ex-policeman.’
    ‘Can you prove that?’
    Outside his work, he’d rarely met anyone quite so suspicious. For answer, he reached up to the highest shelf of the dresser and took down the farewell photo, offering it to her.
    She took it from him, staring at the line-up.
    Too late, he remembered that he’d been in a wheelchair at the time, hated photos of himself in the damned thing.
    ‘You were invalided out?’
    He shrugged. ‘Car accident. We were chasing a guy who’d shot a woman. It happens.’
    ‘I hope you caught him.’
    ‘Not then, but later on my colleagues did, yes.’ By that time he was in hospital, starting the long journey back to full health and mobility – well, almost full mobility.
    ‘Thank you.’ She relaxed visibly, gave him back the photo and went to sit down near her son.
    ‘I’m Joss Atherton, by the way.’
    ‘Libby P— No, I won’t use that name any longer. I only left my husband today and I’m not used to giving my maiden name yet.’ She frowned, head on one side, mouthing something, as if trying it out. ‘How does Libby King sound to you?’
    ‘You must be Rose’s granddaughter.’
    ‘You knew my grandmother?’
    ‘We were neighbours for years and she was my landlady.’
    ‘I hadn’t seen her since I was twelve.’ Her voice thickened. ‘I didn’t know she was still alive. I was told she’d died a few years ago.’
    ‘She kept an eye on you, though, even had photos of you and the boy. After she died, your stepfather told the lawyer you’d gone overseas and he didn’t know where you were.’
    She gaped at him. ‘Walter knew perfectly well where I was.’
    ‘He swore he didn’t.’
    ‘That was … even meaner than I’d have expected from him. We didn’t part on the best of terms after my mother died, but to do that …’
    ‘I long ago came to the conclusion that some people are born nasty. Tea or coffee? And how do you like it?’
    ‘Coffee. White, no sugar, please.’
    He sorted that out and handed her the mug. ‘Milk all right for the lad?’
    ‘Ned would love a drink of milk. Thank you.’
    ‘And a biscuit?’
    She nodded, cradling her mug in her hands for the warmth. She still looked pale