Journey’s End
Following the fortunes of some of the much-loved characters from her bestseller ‘The Journey’, Josephine Cox’s powerful novel spans continents, decades and generations of one family.Like a ghost from the past, she walked along the platform towards them…It has been over twenty years since Vicky Maitland set foot on English soil. Twenty years since she left Liverpool with her three children, bound for a new life in America, leaving her beloved husband Barney behind.But this long journey home is the hardest of all. She is here in search of the truth, afraid of what she may find. Why did Barney turn against his family so suddenly, so cruelly? Only her old friend Lucy Baker knows what happened. And Lucy promised Barney she would never tell his secret. Is it time she broke her silence and explained the events of so long ago?
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JOSEPHINE COX
Journey’s End
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 HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by
HarperCollinsPublishers 2006
Copyright © Josephine Cox 2006
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 9780007369690
Version: 2017-08-10
Once in a while we are blessed with the friendship and love of someone who is uniquely special. When I was an infant and my mother gave birth to her fifth baby boy, I loved him from the moment I saw him; as we all did. She named him William, but he was always known to us as Billy.
Small and sturdy, with the funniest, most mischievous little smile, he was a rascal from the start. He grew up to be a fine man, with high principles and a fierce passion for family. He was at times infuriating, aggravating, bossy, but immensely lovable. He was our Billy, one of us and we all respected and loved him, without reservation.
A short time ago we celebrated his sixtieth birthday; it was a wonderful evening, with everyone there and our Billy in the midst of it all, laughing, teasing, innocently flirting, showing off his beloved grandchildren and happy to be with family and friends.
A short time later, he fell ill and, with very little warning, was all too quickly gone from us. With the memories of his birthday party still strong in our minds, we found ourselves mourning the loss of a much loved and very precious man.
God bless you, Billy boy, and keep you safe until we meet again. We’ll talk about you and love you, and keep you proud in our hearts.
Most of all, we’ll miss you desperately, our one and only Billy. There will never again be anyone like you.
This book is for my Ken as always
CONTENTS
SHE WOKE WITH a cry. It was the same dream as before – the same place, the same faces, the same jolt of terror; real in her dream, real in her life. Would it never leave her be?
The sweat dripping down her temples and her whole body trembling, she clambered out of bed and went to the window, where for a moment she stood, regaining her composure, collecting her senses.
Drawing back the curtains, she peered into the darkness, thick and impenetrable, like the deepest recesses of her mind. Dismissing the nightmare, she returned to the question that tormented her.
Should she tell? Would it destroy lives and minds? Would they hate her or, as she desperately hoped, would they thank her? But then, why would they thank her when the news she had to reveal was so unbearably cruel?
‘Dear God, give me the courage to do what’s right,’ she prayed.
Maybe it would be better if the truth was never told. Yet that would be the coward’s way out, and she might be many things, but Lucy Baker was no coward.
She glanced at the clock; it was five minutes past three – another day beginning. Taking her robe from the back of the chair, she slipped into it and sat on the edge of the bed, where she remained for a time. She sighed, a long, broken sigh. ‘Oh, my dearest Barney, my joy, my life.’ There was a murmuring of guilt, but never regret. ‘I loved you then, and I love you still.’
Barney had been her only true love, and it was a love all-consuming, all-powerful. There was no way to describe how much she missed him. No words. Only memories.
The smile slipped away and in its place came a look of hatred.
