At this, his father’s bushy eyebrows furrowed and his lips tightened. “I know whom you mean. Blustering, large fellow with black hair? Here yesterday with his red-headed wife and sister-in-law. I believe they had a little girl with them but the mother kept the child close.”
Lucas nodded – that must be her.
“’Fraid they left early this morning,” his father continued, “some kind of argument between them. Was she badly hurt?”
“She had a cut lip, and she’ll have a bruise on her cheek this morning. It was all red.”
His father squeezed his shoulder. “Nasty piece of work that man. Don’t know what my brother was thinking inviting him here. Something to do with cotton mills, I believe. They only arrived yesterday and were meant to stay two further days. I’ll see what I can find out, Lucas, but there is little I can do. He is her father.”
“But it’s so unfair. She didn’t do anything wrong. She just saw something, that’s all.”
“I will look into it, my boy.” Father sat on the bed next to him. “Sometimes, I’m afraid the harshest of things can happen to the nicest of people. And other times, the best things will happen to the most kind-hearted.” He paused to ruffle Lucas’s hair. “Today it’s sunny, which means that fishing trip I promised you. So, dress appropriately and I will see you downstairs. You’ll forget the girl when you’ve bagged a couple of trout,” he pledged as he left the nursery.
With a sullen face, Lucas glared after him. He wouldn’t forget, even if he caught all the trout in the river. He would never forget.
