Part 17 (1/2)

Chapter 24.

If Jasper hadn't broken her fall, Peggy would have broken her head. The stranger rushed forward to help Jasper prop her up, and Mr. Barlow seized Buster's collar to keep the frisky terrier from licking Peggy's face. Lilian fetched a cup of water from the ladies' bathroom, dampened a paper napkin, and applied it to Peggy's temples.

While everyone else milled around Peggy, I kept an eye on Nicholas. The commotion had broken his trance. He blinked, as if emerging from a deep sleep, and stiffened when he caught sight of Mr. Barlow. He turned toward me, but before he could say a word, Peggy's eyelids fluttered open.

She raised a trembling hand to touch the stranger's face. He gazed down at her tenderly and nodded.

”That's right, Mrs. Taxman,” he said. ”I'm your son.”

Everyone froze. Even Buster stopped squirming and pointed his twitching nose in Peggy's direction.

A sob caught in Peggy's throat. ”Y-your name,” she stammered. ”What did they call you?”

”Harry,” he replied. ”Harry Mappin, after my father.”

Peggy pushed herself into a sitting position and said fiercely, ”Your father's name was J. Mark Leese, and don't you forget it.”

”No, ma'am,” Harry said gently. ”I won't.”

Lilian Bunting applied the dampened napkin to her own temples as she stood. She touched Sally's arm, then Miranda's, and the milling villagers gradually cleared a s.p.a.ce around the tableau on the floor.

”Welcome to Finch, Mr. Mappin,” Lilian said with astonis.h.i.+ng aplomb. ”May I offer you a cup of tea?”

”We're going home,” Peggy barked. She allowed Jasper and Harry to haul her to her feet, straightened her dress, and glared defiantly at her neighbors. ”I had a baby when I was a girl, and I gave him up for adoption. There you have it! And that's all you're going to get till I've had a chance to speak with my husband and m-my boy.” She hooked one hand through Jasper's arm, and the other through Harry's, and marched them out of the schoolhouse without a backward glance.

One by one, the villagers returned to their chairs. Sally Pyne opened her mouth, but closed it again without emitting a syllable. Miranda Morrow studied her silver rings, Christine Peac.o.c.k scratched her head, and George Wetherhead appeared to be thoroughly at sea. d.i.c.k Peac.o.c.k watched Mr. Barlow, who was looking from Lilian to Nicholas as if awaiting instructions.

Nicholas was the first to break the silence. ”Mr. Barlow,” he said, ”would you be so kind as to tell us where you've been and what you've been doing?”

Mr. Barlow released Buster's collar, swung Jasper Taxman's chair around, and straddled it, his arms folded across the back. Buster curled alertly at his feet.

”I never pretended to like Mrs. Hooper,” he said gruffly. ”I know trouble when I see it, and Mrs. Hooper was trouble with a capital T. I watched her stirring her little wasps' nests all winter long, and when she kicked my pup, I decided that enough was enough. If she wouldn't leave Finch voluntarily, I'd find a way to make her go. That's why I went to Birmingham, to have a chat with that son of hers.”

”You told us you were going up north to visit family,” said Sally.

”That came later,” said Mr. Barlow, ”after I learned from Mrs. Hooper's son that his mother never lived in Birmingham.”

The villagers exchanged glances, then sat forward, their chins in their hands, enraptured by the new, exciting tidbit Mr. Barlow had unearthed.

”Prunella Hooper was from Whitby,” said Mr. Barlow. ”That's where she met Peggy Taxman.”

”Peggy said-” Christine began, but Mr. Barlow would brook no further interruptions.

”Peggy lied,” he said bluntly. ”You and I know that Peggy Taxman never lies, even when we wish she would, so it struck me as strange that she'd tell a lie about Mrs. Hooper. Then it struck me that maybe Mrs. Hooper had invented the lie and forced Peggy to go along with it.”

Sally grunted. ”I can't see anyone forcing Peggy to do anything.”

”What if Mrs. Hooper had something on Peggy?” d.i.c.k interjected. ”Some secret Peggy didn't want us to know.”

”Such as an illegitimate child?” Miranda suggested, gazing toward the cloakroom.

”You want me to tell the story?” Mr. Barlow asked with a touch of petulance. ”Or do you want to go on guessing?”

”Forgive us, Mr. Barlow,” Lilian said hastily. ”Please continue.”

”I was born near Whitby, in Scarborough,” he said. ”I still have family up there, so I decided to go see 'em. I figured they might've heard of Mrs. Hooper. A woman like that always leaves a trail. . . .”

Mr. Barlow's relatives had heard of Mrs. Hooper. What's more, they'd been able to put him in touch with several of her former neighbors, cla.s.smates, and coworkers, some of whom had been willing to describe the havoc she'd wrought in their lives.

”Leopards don't change their spots,” said Mr. Barlow. ”Prunella Hooper pulled the same nasty tricks in Whitby that she pulled in Finch. She spied on people, eavesdropped, started rumors, made threats, spread lies. She befriended folk, then waited for her chance to stab 'em in the back. That's what she did to Peggy. . . .”

The trail of contacts had led Mr. Barlow to an old people's home near Whitby, where he'd struck gold in the form of an elderly resident called Mick Shuttleworth.

”Old Mick had lived in the boardinghouse run by Prunella Hooper's mother,” said Mr. Barlow. ”He was there after the war, when Prunella befriended a pregnant girl who was staying with an aunt just up the street. Mick still remembered the girl's name-Peggy Stanton.” He nodded to Lilian. ”Church records'll confirm that Stanton was Peggy Taxman's maiden name.”

Mick Shuttleworth had seen Prunella in action, stirring wasps' nests in the boardinghouse, and he knew that she would cause young Peggy grief. He'd tried to warn Peggy to steer clear of Prunella, but Peggy wouldn't hear a word said against her friend. When Prunella got wind of Mick's efforts, she forced him to leave the boardinghouse.

”Mick wouldn't say what lies she spread about him,” Mr. Barlow said grimly, ”but I imagine they were along the same lines as her lies about Kit and Nell. It made the old gentleman's blood boil to think of it, all these fifty years later.”

Mick had kept an eye on Peggy even after he'd left the boardinghouse, and when she'd given birth, he'd made it his business to find out where the baby had gone in case Peggy ever came looking for her child.

”That's how I found Harry Mappin,” said Mr. Barlow. ”He'd been given to a couple in Pickering. Harry knew he'd been adopted, but he was one of thousands of wartime babies whose records were s.h.i.+fted from pillar to post. He'd had no luck tracing his birth mother.”

Lilian looked at Mr. Barlow with a faint air of reproof. ”Was it necessary to bring Mr. Mappin here?” she asked. ”Mrs. Taxman might have appreciated a word of warning.”

”Harry wouldn't wait,” said Mr. Barlow. ”And I can't say that I blame him.”

Lilian remained doubtful. ”But to introduce him so publicly-”

”Isn't that what you wanted?” Mr. Barlow pushed himself up from his chair. ”It's like you said to me before I left, Mrs. Bunting: There've been too many secrets floating around this village, too many people being hurt by half-truths. It was time to clear the air.”

A murmur of a.s.sent filled the schoolhouse, but Miranda didn't add her voice to it.

”Have we cleared it, though?” she mused aloud. ”I wonder . . .”

d.i.c.k stroked his goatee. ”The way I see it,” he said, ”Pruneface threatened to tattle about Harry unless Peggy sided with her against us.”

”There's more to it than that, isn't there, Nicholas?” When Nicholas didn't reply, Miranda looked at me. ”Were you able to confirm my suspicions, Lori? You've been poking and prying so zealously. You must have learned something by now.”

I glanced uncertainly at Nicholas. ”I, uh, don't think this is the time or place to-”

”I'm sorry, Lori, but Mr. Barlow is quite right,” Lilian interrupted. ”It must all come out, here and now. I would urge you to share with us whatever you and Nicky have learned.”

”I can't,” I said. ”Peggy spoke to us in confidence. I won't betray her trust.”