Free Abbeyford Remembered by Margaret Dickinson

herself against him and clung to him, but Jamie Trent, like a man in a daze, merely stared over her head at Evan Smithson and Lloyd Foster. “ Tell him I belong to you.
    Jamie’s eyes were hard, his mouth a grim line as he took hold of her arms and released himself from her limpet hold upon him. He held her away from him by the shoulders. He looked into her tearstained face, not an ounce of sympathy in his expression.
    â€œYou belong here? To the railway people?” His voice was harsh.
    The hope died on Carrie’s face. She closed her eyes and groaned aloud. “ I can’t help that. Jamie – I love you.”
    He thrust her aside and walked towards where Lloyd Foster and Evan Smithson stood watching. Behind him – unobserved by any of them now – Carrie sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands.
    â€œWho’s the contractor?” Jamie Trent demanded.
    Foster and Evan exchanged a glance.
    â€œWell, ’tis like this, d’you see. I am – but I’m in the process of handing the remainder of the contract over to Mr Smithson here. So – perhaps if you were to tell the both of us what it is troubling you, me boy.”
    â€œAre you Foster?”
    â€œI am dat. Me fame must be spreadin’ far an’ wide,” he grinned.
    â€œFame?” Jamie’s lip curled. “Is that what you call it? Infamy more like!”
    Foster, instead of being insulted, threw back his head and roared with laughter. For a moment Jamie seemed disconcerted and then his anger grew as he thought his grievance was not being taken seriously.
    â€œYou’ve swindled an old man – a drunken, confused old man – out of his – and my – inheritance. There’s not enough land left now to be worth the working!”
    Evan Smithson’s eyes glittered and a slow smile spread across his mouth. He folded his arms and leant against the door-frame.
    â€œDrunk as ever, then, is he?” he said quietly.
    Jamie met his gaze squarely and for a moment there was silence as the two men stared at each other: one, young, angry and a little unsure of himself; the other, older by some twenty or more years, a self-satisfied expression on his face.
    â€œYou – you know my grandfather?”
    Evan Smithson continued to stare disconcertingly into the young man’s troubled eyes.
    Quietly and deliberately, Evan said, “I should do. I’m his son!”

Chapter Four
    The reactions to Evan’s dramatic statement were varied.
    â€œWell now,” Foster murmured softly. “An’don’t that be explaining a lot o’ t’ings.”
    Jamie Trent was motionless, his stare fixed upon Evan. His tanned face turned pale.
    Carrie raised her head slowly, disbelievingly, from her hands, her sobs stilled in shock. Her violet eyes, still brimming with tears, gazed at her father and then at Jamie’s rigid back. “Oh, no,” she whispered hoarsely. “ No, no, no !” her voice rising to hysteria.
    â€œHis – son ?” Jamie Trent’s voice was no more than a whisper. “But how – who …?”
    The enormity of Evan’s words seemed to dawn upon the bewildered young man. “You mean – you’re illegitimate!” he said baldly.
    Evan’s mouth tightened and his eyes hardened. “Aye, Squire Trent’s bastard by a village girl.”
    Slowly Jamie nodded as understanding came. “Sarah Smithson.” And the way in which he uttered her name told the onlookers that the revelation of these facts answered questions which had puzzled him for years.
    There was no need for confirmation – they all realised the truth of Jamie’s statement.
    Not that gentle little old woman in the cottage and that drunken old man – it wasn’t possible! Carrie closed her eyes and rocked to and fro on her haunches. And yet they, too, must have been young once, must have laughed and loved in secret