But nothing. Leave it, sis.
David was right. Again. There was no way she could make her presence known that didn't look like she was spying on them. Checking up on Robert. Dammit, right now that's exactly what she was doing.
Mary watched them for a little while longer, but had to turn away when she heard Adele laughing at something Robert had just said. So happy. Just like Mary had been the night of the fete.
Feeling the tears coming again, she retreated to their bedroom where she waited. Not for Robert to come back from patrol this time, but for him to return to her. If he ever would.
Mary tried to stay awake, but eventually sheer exhaustion and all that crying took their toll. Sleep claimed her, and she never heard Robert come in, or felt him climb into bed with her.
If she had she might also have heard him tell her again softly, as he kissed her shoulder, how very much he loved her.
CHAPTER FIVE
The village had been named Hope.
But that Hope had died along with its founder. Clive Maitland had been killed defending this place against De Falaise's men, murdered by the fat Mexican, Major Javier. The Reverend Tate knew that Gwen had taken her revenge on Javier for that, shooting him just like he'd put a bullet in Clive. Although Tate could forgive her for that — many terrible things had happened in the heat of that final battle — he wasn't altogether sure The Lord would be able to without repentance. It hadn't been her place to take that life, and more than likely there would be a punishment, one way or another.
Gwen probably thought she'd served her time in purgatory, held prisoner at the castle and made to do unspeakable things at the behest of that mad Frenchman. Tate had to admire her for not going completely stark, staring mad over those months. But she would have killed De Falaise as well, given the opportunity, and was on her way to do so when Tate had been hit in the shoulder by a stray bullet.
"God will provide his own revenge."
Tate had shouted this after her, but she'd taken no notice, headstrong as she was. She hadn't succeeded anyway, apart from stabbing De Falaise in the leg and managing to get shot herself by one of Tanek's crossbow bolts. It had been left to Robert Stokes, their leader, to end the Frenchman's reign. Tate had often wondered if The Hooded Man had actually been an unwitting part of The Almighty's plan for revenge, but almost always dismissed these thoughts. Robert was a law unto himself and still continued to be so. That man no more believed in God's overarching design than Tate believed he was the reincarnation of St Francis of Assisi.
Not that you had to believe in God to be a part of his plans. But you did have to have faith, something Robert was sorely lacking. It was one of the reasons why had Tate left the castle in the first place; the two of them were never going to see eye-to-eye on that. The holy man knew he could do more good out in the fledgling communities, as Clive had told Tate when he'd found him. The man had a vision of what Hope and other villages could be like, how the survivors of the human race might all rise again, Phoenix-like, from the ashes of The Cull. He'd had the necessary leadership qualities to draw together his own community, and if it hadn't been for Javier wrecking it that fateful day — riding in and casually shooting up the place — Clive might just have succeeded.
Of course, he might yet: through Gwen. She'd inherited a lot of Clive's determination, seemingly channelling his ability to make people listen. (It was a quality, coincidentally, Clive had also shared with Robert.) She was dead set on pursuing his dream, putting Hope back together, making a place to fit to raise their child, Clive Jr.
"I want him to grow up in a loving atmosphere, away from the city and out of the shadow of that castle," she informed Tate, not long after the birth. The first part was fair enough, what parent doesn't want such an environment for their child? Yet Tate had to question whether the second part had more to do with the question mark hanging over the baby's origins. Did she really want to get away from the castle because some part of her recognised it was where Clive Jr had been conceived?
Robert, Mary, Jack, even Tate himself. They all suspected the truth of the matter, even if Gwen steadfastly refused to. She didn't want to hear it through the pregnancy and certainly didn't want to talk about it after her son was born. Regardless of the fact there was only a slim chance Clive was the father, Gwen was adamant he be listed as such in the new records system being initiated in Nottingham ("If we start with our own people," Mary had suggested, "then we can add others we find out about as and when."). Tate couldn't blame Gwen for wanting to pretend the boy was Clive's. Who would want to think that their offspring was the product of rape? Especially by a man whose genes, Tate suspected, had been given to him by Satan himself. He'd certainly been put on this Earth to do the Fallen Angel's bidding.
Tate always felt more than a little responsible for what had happened to Gwen. Perhaps there had been something more the holy man could have done to prevent Javier from taking her back to Nottingham. Or maybe if he hadn't tackled Javier in the first place, struggling with the man as he held the pistol… Was it as much his fault the gun had gone off and shot Clive? No, Javier was about to shoot him anyway, Tate was sure of it, that's why he'd felt compelled to intervene.
Then later, when he'd joined Robert's band, Tate should have tried harder to convince the man to mount a rescue. There again, they both knew it would have been suicide. Plus there was no way of knowing for sure Gwen was even alive.
Robert had done it for Mark, though, hadn't he? Tate would say to himself, then feel guilty for such thoughts. Mark was just a child, being held and tortured, then sentenced to execution. There had been other villagers that were going to die as well. It had been that which had forced Robert to move against De Falaise. In any event, Gwen had remained at the castle, subject to the Frenchman's sadistic whims.
For all these reasons, Tate decided to go with her when she left. It had been a tearful goodbye, but he knew he'd see everyone again. Nottingham wasn't that far from where they were heading, and he'd made the trip a few times, like when the castle had hosted a fete last summer.
He recalled now the day they left, though, and what each of his friends had said.
"Thank you for everything," had been Mary's words, giving the Reverend a kiss on the cheek.
"Gonna miss your words of wisdom. Take it easy," Jack had told him, clasping his hand and shaking it firmly.
"Are you sure you have to go?" Mark had asked. And when Tate nodded, he saw the boy's eyes moistening. Tate had rubbed his tousled blond hair and Mark had laughed.
"See you around, I s'pose," Bill had said next — and it wasn't long after that he had made tracks himself, after some disagreement or other with Robert.
Then came the man himself. The Hooded Man, who Tate had talked into leading these people. They might have had their differences, and Tate might not have agreed on some of his methods, but he knew fundamentally that Robert was a good man. And he knew he was going to miss him.
"If you ever need anything, even if it's just to talk, my son — "
"I know where you are," Robert said, fixing him with those intense eyes of his. "You look after yourself, Reverend."
"You too." He'd leaned in close so the others couldn't hear and added: "Look after them all." It was Robert's turn to nod. "You did a good job, you know," Tate said finally. And he thought then that he'd detected the slightest of smiles playing on Robert's lips.
They'd driven off in one of the jeeps De Falaise had left behind, packed with enough food and water to last them the journey, in addition to whatever items Robert's men had been able to find for the baby: nappies, bottles, jars of baby food (there were actually plenty of these kinds of stocks still left in shops and warehouses; Tate didn't like to think about why). Neither of them had known what to expect when they finally arrived, having heard nothing of the village since they'd left. When Tate had gone in search of The Hooded Man, there had only been a handful of the original members of Hope still living there. Young Darryl Wade, for example, who'd been helping Clive fix up the village hall the day Javier arrived — turning it into a school for future generations. Graham Leicester, as well, who'd been attempting to grow food in gardens and fields. But most had fled the village, fled the region, once the new Sheriff's stranglehold on the area had taken effect. Tate knew for a fact that former midwife June Taylor had done so with Gwen and Clive's adopted kids, Sally and Luke.