The Reluctant Widow part 8

They moved to the front room and sat on a worn leather sofa, their glasses refreshed with port. Jenny remained still for a while, making the distressing journey back so many lifetimes ago. She turned to Simon, her eyes already brimming with tears. ‘So long ago...when my world was perfect. I was young, doted on by my parents, happy in my work. Twenty years old, the newest, most enthusiastic teacher in Morton Secondary...full of ideas to make the kids as willing to learn as I had been...eager not to be seen just as the daughter of one of the masters. So many plans...I was going to be the best teacher they’d ever had.
I had everything Simon; loving parents, a good career and...Tom,’ she stopped for a moment as a stab of pain bowed her head. Simon knew he could say nothing...just let Jenny take her own time.
‘He was so handsome...I was so lucky, so proud...he’d been my life ever since I was little...my friend... the only person besides my parents who I trusted absolutely...our love was a totality...as natural as breathing. Marrying, having children, growing old together...yes...I saw all of that as I stood by him on our wedding day. He kissed me so tenderly...I was crying with happiness...it was one of those weightless moments when you’re all emotion...no substance, just a radiance of pure bliss...a few seconds of invulnerability...a last ecstasy before the crucifixion!’ She broke off, once more sinking into past grief. ‘John told you?’
‘About the wedding...yes.’
‘Billy was always wild, forever getting into trouble. He was jealous of Tom, of our love. Somehow he convinced himself that it was he who I truly loved and that Tom had stolen me from him. He ranted and threatened but Tom was never worried. “Billy’s all bluff,” he always said. “Wait until we’re married then he’ll come round.” I was sure Billy would think up some stupid prank to spoil our wedding day but I never imagined that he...’ Jenny covered her face with her hands, uselessly trying to block out the terrible images filling her mind. ‘It was all over so quickly...I saw Billy lunge forward...the glint of a knife...Tom gasping...blood suddenly all over his shirt...falling backwards in my arms...dead...no time for good bye...not one word...his eyes fixed in death; my love...my world...destroyed!’ Jenny fell forward sobbing. Simon clasped her but she shrugged off his concern.
‘No...no...’
Taking deep breaths she continued. ‘It was all confusion and pain for weeks...months; Tom’s funeral...Billy’s trial. The day he was hung the church bell tolled for an hour...in mourning for Tom...in judgement for Billy. I stopped living. For months I just existed...numb...all my grief and anger spent in the first few weeks of agony. Nothing made sense any more...my life...who I was...not even God. I asked John why God had let this happen? He had no answer for my pain, or the tears through which I stared at Tom’s photograph every night. It was a terrible time. The Draytons moved away soon after Billy’s execution, simply crushed by it all. My parents were devastated. A few months afterwards my father had a stroke, a bad one which left him paralysed on one side. My mother suddenly had two invalids. I think it was helping her to care for my father which brought me round. Slowly, day by day, he recovered some movement. I believe that nursing him somehow triggered the restart of my life.
I took a post at the primary school here in the village, close to home so I could ease my mother’s burden. I lost myself in the children, in their world of emotion and innocence. People were kind then...full of understanding and patience. I pieced my life together with their help.’ Jenny leaned back, eyes closed tightly as the memories unfolded.
‘I never thought of another relationship; there was no-one I could ever love as I had Tom. I was afraid that I’d always be making comparisons...finding fault...or I was simply too scared to love again. Perhaps that’s why I was so cold to Sam when he took over the Drayton’s garage some years later; it had been empty since Tom’s death, almost a monument. Sam seemed like an intruder. It was John who brought us together. He found out that Sam was looking for someone to help him with the book keeping. I was totally perplexed when Sam called round saying the Reverend had given him my name.
I refused...I wanted nothing to do with the garage or Sam. I was annoyed and upset at being asked. I treated Sam very abruptly...my mother said I was downright rude to him. The minute he left I was sorry but it was too late. The next day I went to see him, to apologise. It was strange being in the garage after all that had happened. I knew it would be difficult, but underestimated how much it would affect me. Sam was busy and couldn’t see me straight away. While I waited I felt myself becoming warmer, light headed, as if about to faint. I suddenly heard Tom’s voice calling my name...saw him walking out of the small office in the work place, a big grin on his face, overalls covered in grease. He was so close to me...my heart started missing beats and I felt myself falling. Sam caught me, carried me to the office. I felt so stupid, so embarrassed. He was very kind, filled me up with strong tea, and listened patiently while I spluttered my excuses. He knew the story from the other villagers and had read the newspaper reports of Billy’s hanging. There was a gentler side to him which I had not expected. He was tall, broad shouldered, with quite a severe look on his face sometimes...but inside...
I eventually agreed to help him, which was just as well; Sam was a brilliant mechanic but no star in book keeping. We became friends...and more. I started to believe in the future again...I even thanked God for giving me another chance for happiness...’ Her voice trailed away, her mind slipping back to another time, another caress...

‘Are you happy Jenny?’
‘Yes.’
‘Still thinking of Tom?’
‘You know I can’t ever forget him.’
‘I know that, but I don’t want his memory to come between us.’
‘It won’t...I love you.’
‘You’re so beautiful Jenny.’
‘Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?’
‘No. Nor do I get tired of looking at your lovely face.’
‘You can be quite romantic when you want to be, Sam Stockwood.’ Jenny laughed.
‘It’s being close to you, brings it out of me. Make sure you wear that smile at the wedding.’
In the front room of Jenny’s house, snuggled in Sam’s strong arms on the sofa, her parents already gone to bed. All so different yet somehow safe. Sam was the man Tom might have been, she thought. Honest and hard working. Was it just coincidence that he took over the Drayton’s business? And then being asked to help with paper work he found such a trouble, “I’m good with my hands, you with your head, we make a good team.” His little joke, but it was true. Together they built a fine monument not just to their labours but also, Jenny realised, to Tom, though she never mentioned her secret pride; Sam might take it wrong. He was so worried about Tom’s shadow in her feelings, but Jenny had no doubts; she loved Sam for himself, his kindness, his humour, she knew she could trust him with her love. Life starting over, she often thought in quiet moments. My life returned from the grave...
maybe God trying to make amends.
It was getting late - time for Sam to leave, though neither were keen on it.
‘It’s a pity I can’t stay?’
Jenny kissed his cheek tenderly, shaking her head as she rose from the sofa to collect his coat.
‘Sam, you know we agreed to wait until after the wedding...make it special.’
‘I know I know,’ he replied wearily. ‘You’re quite right Jenny. Anyway you’re worth the wait.’ He kissed her goodnight in the doorway. ‘Be sure to lock up tight after I’m gone.’
‘I will. Sam...don’t take the path through the woods tonight.’
‘Why ever not. I always do. It’s quicker.’
‘Yes I know...it’s just...I’ve had this strange feeling...’
‘What kind of feeling?’
‘Oh...it’s probably nothing.’
‘Don’t you get taken in by what the others say. I’ve heard them talking about strange sights and sounds after dark and it’s all rubbish, superstitious claptrap! I’ll be all right, don’t you worry. Another month Jenny, then I won’t ever leave you again!’
He kissed her once more and was gone.

Sam Stockwood stretched his tall broad frame against the cool evening air. His work at the garage kept him fit and his parents sober upbringing had kept him level headed.‘Strange things,’ he scoffed as he entered the wooded path. ‘Nothing here but trees, birds and squirrels!’ And even if there was something amiss, he was a match for anything; not idle boasting mind, he was too shrewd for that, it was just a fact. Wild stories and weak stomachs, that’s all folks were about these days! That’s why he’d fallen for Jenny, a no nonsense girl, solid on the ground type. Beautiful, practical and thank your lucky stars Sam Stockwood! But he was not alone under that starlit canopy.
Something was shadowing his movements.
Something with a grievance.

Jenny washed the cups in the small dimly lit kitchen, Sam’s goodnight kiss still fresh on her lips. Everything was going to be fine now, she wasn’t alone any more. Sam was strong in body and character, the sort of man to build a future with. The future Tom never lived to see. No...Tom was in the past, dear to her as no other, but her love for Sam was different. She was older now, not just in need of love but steadiness, security. Sam would be a good father and husband. She could see his face as he showed off their first baby. Oh there would be more than one, that was agreed. She was still young enough for two or three. Lots of grandchildren for father to fuss...
A terrible, awesome weight suddnely dragged her to her knees, as if a cloak of lead had been draped over her. A subtle but ever thickening stench of death and corruption weaved an evil halo around her head. In her mind a terrifying image formed - Sam in the woods, something silver-bright, dangerous moving towards him. A malevolence the more dreadful for its familiarity as the form sharpened in her sight. As foreboding sucked her down, Jenny could only gasp...
‘Billy!’

‘ ’Ain’t right.’
A low hoarse voice murmured in the blackness before Sam’s motionless figure.
‘Just ain’t right, messin’ with what ain’t yours.’
It was suddenly all around him, fluctuating from high to low as it shrouded his head. Sam gritted his teeth, determined not to be frightened as a bright form shimmered into view from the tall trees in front of him. It loomed closer, becoming human yet unearthly. Sam saw clearly now the marks of death on its lunar face, the jerk of its neck, the fragmented rope.
‘Go back to Hell where you belong Billy!’ he shouted, attempting to subdue his fear.
Billy’s spectre was now close enough to touch - a heaving, salivating luminance intent on destruction. Sam had to use all his courage not to succumb to Billy’s disgust.
‘Think she’s yours eh?’ There was a curious plaintive wail in Billy’s voice that seared through Sam’s ears painfully.
‘Think you’re gonner take her from me...’
Ghostly hands clamped onto Sam’s shoulders forcing him to his knees. Billy’s crazed eyes stared down at him, fired with rage. Sam fought with all his strength against the crushing force upon him, but the power was too great. He thought of Jenny, knowing he’d never see her again and tried to say her name but Billy bore down, cracking his bones like twigs.
‘Think you’ll put your arms around her?’ he wailed, then in a blur of movement twisting Sam’s arms from his body, sending a spear of agony through him. As blood gushed from his gaping wounds and death closed in, Sam felt something cold and razor sharp clamp round his neck.
‘Think you’ll put your filthy lips on hers!?’
A black mist was already engulfing Sam as icy fingers cut into his flesh. With a screech of triumph Billy’s ghost wrenched Sam’s head clean into the night sky, a pale blood-laced twin to the moon, before hurling it deep into the woods.