Читать книгу Born Bad - Josephine Cox - Страница 10

WITH ONLY A short distance to go up the A418 from Aylesbury before they reached Leighton Buzzard, Harry found himself snarled up in traffic. ‘I think we’ll take a short break,’ he said. A quick glance at the boy and he decided it would do them both good to take another breather. It was a very long journey from Weymouth to Bedfordshire and they had been driving for hours. Besides, the nearer he got to Fisher’s Hill, the more his nerves were getting the better of him.

Twenty minutes later, as Harry negotiated his way through the lanes and backways, Tom spotted a food van in a lay-by. ‘I’m hungry, Daddy,’ he said.

‘Okay,’ Harry conceded. ‘It’s been a while since we ate.’ Drawing into a little gravelled area, he got Tom out of the Hillman. ‘Come on, then. Let’s see what they’ve got.’ To tell the truth, he welcomed the stop. His back was aching, and he had a real thirst on him.

At the van Harry lifted Tom into his arms. ‘Right, big man. What d’you fancy?’ He pointed to the items arranged on glass shelves behind the counter. ‘And don’t get anything too messy,’ he cautioned. ‘I don’t want it all over you … or the car!’

Tom chose a ham roll. Harry chose ham and tomato; and each had a bag of potato crisps, a Wagon Wheel chocolate biscuit, and a bottle of orange juice. On the way back to the car, they chatted about this and that, the main topic being the little man who could hardly see over the counter to serve them.

With only a short distance to Fisher’s Hill, Harry was still questioning the situation. Was Kathleen only acting out of loyalty by writing back in response to his letter, and saying they could stop with her? And would Judy’s life be turned upside down again, because of him?

He could not go home, and he had no other family, so if he didn’t go to Kathleen, where would he go? All the same, wouldn’t it be better if he let sleeping dogs lie? He could take them to a hotel; maybe arrange to rent a house until he found something more permanent.

‘I think we’ll pull off the road for a while, Tom,’ he told the boy. ‘After all, we’re in no hurry.’ He felt the need to slow everything down.

Taking a left turn, he found himself in what looked like a lane to nowhere. ‘I remember this place.’ He and Judy had been here many times on their bikes. ‘I used to go fishing in the stream at the bottom,’ he said. ‘Me and … my friends.’ The pictures were so alive in his mind – of him and his mates – climbing trees, chasing rabbits, and doing all the usual stuff that growing boys do.

And then, later on, there were the quieter, more memorable times, when he and Judy came walking hand-in-hand down this very lane, wide-eyed and starstruck; hopelessly in love.

Now, when the guilt poured in, he deliberately pushed the memories to the back of his mind.

Parking the car, he collected Tom and the food, and the two of them meandered down the bank, to follow the splashing sound of water.

Overhung with ancient willows, the stream was magical. The frothy white water tumbled over the boulders and wound its way down to the valley, and all around the birds could be heard singing.

Mesmerised, the two of them stood for a moment, just watching, and listening. The graceful willows swayed ever so gently in the teasing breeze, and the sound of water against stone was uniquely soothing.

Harry allowed the memories to flood back. ‘Shall I tell you something?’ he murmured to Tom.

Intent on the little bird hopping from boulder to boulder, the boy nodded. ‘Mmm.’

‘When we were your age, me and my friends used to leap across this stream.’

Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Tom gave his father his full attention. ‘Did you?’

‘We did.’

‘And did you get a smack for being naughty?’

Harry laughed out loud. ‘We did, yes! Every time we fell in and got wet, our mams got cross and our dads gave us a clip round the ear.’

Deep in thought, he grew quiet for a while. ‘We still came down here though.’ He pointed to an old oak tree on the other side. ‘We even made a den in the branches of that tree.’

Stretching his neck, Tom strained to look into the tree branches. ‘I can’t see it.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you?’ Harry felt a pang of sadness. ‘It was a long time ago. It’s probably rotted away by now.’

‘Can we see?’ Having caught the excitement in his father’s voice, Tom was curious.

Harry considered Tom’s request, and he too began to wonder. ‘Yes, why not? Let’s go take a look.’

‘How can we get across?’

‘We’ll paddle – would you like that?’

Tom threw his two arms up in the air. ‘Yes, I would!’

So they kicked off their shoes, rolled up their trousers, and dipped their bare feet in the stream, with Tom screeching at the shockingly cold water which lapped over his ankles.

For the first time in an age, Harry laughed out loud. ‘Wow! That’s a good feeling, don’t you think so, Tom?’

‘It’s freezing, Daddy!’

‘Do you want me to carry you?’

‘No! I want to paddle!’

So with Harry holding tight to Tom’s hand, the two of them paddled across the stream and clambered out on the other side, all wet and refreshed, and much lighter of heart. ‘D’you know what, Tom?’ Harry took a deep invigorating breath. ‘I’d forgotten what that felt like.’ It had taken him right back to another time, one without responsibility or worries.

‘We might do that again some day?’ he suggested, and Tom was all for it.

After rummaging about in that big old tree, they found remnants of Harry’s childhood. Amazingly, the main plank which had forged the base of their den was still virtually intact. ‘Lift me up, Daddy!’ Tom was beside himself with excitement.

Warning him to stay very still, because of the rotting wood, Harry lifted him up to stand on the plank, and when the boy looked down on what had been Harry’s kingdom, Harry felt deeply nostalgic. He could see himself up there, not much older than Tom was now, being master of all he surveyed.

The most surprising find of all, was when Harry lifted his boy down. He was not consciously thinking of it, so it must have been a deeper instinct that brought his gaze to the widest girth of the trunk.

‘Good Lord!’ His heart soared in his chest when he saw the outline of two entwined shapes deeply engraved in the timber.

‘What is it, Daddy?’ Tom wanted to know.

Seeming not to have heard, Harry went forward, with Tom right behind, and there, crudely carved within the two entwined hearts, so faint he could hardly read it, were the names of Harry and Judy.

An unexpected storm of emotion flooded Harry’s being; for a moment he had to turn away, so Tom would not see.

‘Daddy, show me! Show me, Daddy!’

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Harry snatched the boy into his arms and strode away. ‘It’s nothing … just some old carvings, that’s all.’ But it wasn’t all. It was wonderful, and shocking, and the strongest reminder yet, of how it had been between him and Judy.

He remembered it now, as if it was yesterday.

It was the summer after Judy’s family had moved into the street, when they were just childhood friends, riding their old bikes around the countryside, coming here and making their mark on the world.

As they hurried away from that place, Harry could hear his son chatting about the tree and the stream, telling his dad how he wanted to come back again. Harry had nothing to say. He was being drawn back into another world, one from which he had flown long ago.

Having paddled back to the other side, Harry tried desperately to shut the images out of his mind. ‘Hungry now, are you?’ he asked Tom.

‘Starving!’

‘Right.’ They dried their feet on their socks, then put their shoes back on, and Harry unwrapped the food.

‘There you go, son. Time to tuck in.’ He handed the boy his bread roll, relieved that Tom had got back his appetite. ‘Good, is it?’ These past few weeks, neither of them had felt much like eating.

With his mouth full, Tom nodded.

‘I didn’t realise how hungry I was,’ Harry commented, tearing off another chunk of his bread roll. ‘When we’ve finished, we’ll get back on the road.’ He swallowed the last bite. ‘There’s a box of tissues in the back of the car. We can finish drying our feet on them.’

The boy looked up. ‘Daddy?’ he asked.

Harry didn’t hear. He was thinking of that carving, and Judy. Then he was thinking how much Sara would have loved this beautiful place.

‘Daddy!’ Tom repeated, more loudly this time.

Startled, Harry turned, his glance softening as he gazed down on that small, innocent face, ‘Sorry, son. I was miles away.’

‘What town is that?’ The lad pointed across the bank, towards the swathe of houses.

‘It isn’t a town, son. It’s a village – name of Heath and Reach.’ This whole area had been his stamping ground. ‘The nearest town is Leighton Buzzard,’ he pointed towards the curve of the canal, ‘about four miles in that direction.’

‘Leighton Buzzard? That’s a funny name. So, is that where we’re going?’

‘Nope.’ Harry shook his head.

‘Where are we going then?’

Again, Harry turned away, his mind filled with things belonging to the past. Things that had never really left him.

The boy tugged on Harry’s sleeve. ‘I’m tired.’

Smiling patiently, Harry slid an arm round his narrow shoulders. ‘I know,’ he conceded. ‘It’s been a long journey, but we’re not far off now.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Oh, Tom, I already told you three times on the way here. We’re going to a place called Fisher’s Hill. The place where I grew up.’

‘Oh yes.’ The boy dropped his quiet gaze to the water’s edge. He didn’t want to go somewhere strange. He wanted to go back to his own house. He wanted his mammy, and the garden where he played at soldiers behind the trees.

But it was gone now. All gone, and the child’s heart was heavy.

‘Will I like it in our new place, Daddy?’ he asked tearfully.

‘I hope so, son.’ Harry was anxious, for both of them. ‘Yes, I believe you will like it. I know you’ll like Kathleen. She’s a lovely person. When I was growing up and something really bad happened, Kathleen was very good to me.’

‘Was that when your mammy and daddy got burned?’

Shocked, Harry swung round. ‘Tom! Who told you that?’

‘I heard you talking with Mammy,’ Tom answered candidly.

‘Oh, I see.’ In an odd way, Harry was strangely relieved, though he wondered how a small boy could have remembered something like that.

‘Mammy asked you to promise you would go back, and you said you didn’t want to, because you had those bad memories.’

‘That’s right, son. I did say that.’ He was sorry that Tom had been living with those thoughts, and then felt the need to clarify something. ‘Can you remember anything else – apart from the bit about the bad memories?’ he asked.

Tom shrugged his shoulders, but gave no answer.

‘Well, when I told Mammy that I didn’t want to go back to where I grew up, she reminded me that I shouldn’t just remember the bad memories, because there were good memories as well. Memories of love, and friendship, and of that kind lady called Kathleen, who took me in after I lost my parents. That’s really why Mammy wanted us to go back.’

‘Because she was going away, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes, son,’ Harry said in a choked voice, ‘because she was going away, and she did not want us to be without friends.’

Tom considered that, before, with the innocence of a child, he asked, ‘Will Kathleen really like me?’

Harry smiled at that. ‘Of course she’ll like you. She won’t be able to help herself.’

There followed a brief span of silence while each of them took stock of the situation, ‘Daddy?’

‘Yes, son?’

‘Kathleen won’t pretend to be my real mammy, will she?’

‘No. She would never do that.’

‘I wish Mammy could be with us.’

‘I know, son.’ Harry’s voice fell to a whisper. ‘But she can’t. I’m sorry, Tom, but we have to get used to that.’

‘I miss her.’ The tears threatened.

‘I know you do, and so do I.’ He drew the boy close. ‘If there was any other way, you know I would make it right. But I can’t, so from now on, it’s just the two of us.’

‘Will Mammy be all right without us?’

‘Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.’

‘Is she with the angels?’

‘I imagine so. Yes, that’s where she is … with the angels.’

The boy’s next question shook Harry to the roots, for it echoed his own deepest fears. ‘We’ll never see her again, will we? Not ever.’

For the moment, Harry could not bring himself to answer. The truth was, he still had not come to terms with her loss.

He looked down on that small, bewildered face, and he felt helpless. ‘We have no way of knowing if we’ll ever see her again, Tom,’ he answered quietly. ‘But even if we can’t see her, I bet she can see us. Wherever we go, she’ll be keeping an eye on us; wanting us to be strong, wanting us to look after each other.’

Tom was amazed. ‘Does she know I got my feet wet in the stream?’

Harry smiled. ‘Maybe she does, yes.’

‘When we go back to the car, will she come with us?’

‘I don’t know, son.’

Tears were inevitable as they tumbled down the boy’s face. ‘I want my Mammy … I want her now!’

Grabbing the boy into his arms, Harry pacified him. ‘Hush now. I want her too, but we can’t have her back, except in our hearts and minds. That’s something, isn’t it, Tom? That really is … something.’

Sensing his father’s desolation, the boy wrapped his arms round his neck. ‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’

‘I’m sorry too, son.’ Brushing back the boy’s brown hair, he put his hand under his chin and lifted Tom’s face to him. ‘I love you, Tom. I’ll take good care of you, just like Mammy wanted.’

After a while he led the boy by the hand and together they walked back across the field and over the bridge. ‘We’d best make tracks.’ He didn’t want it to be dark when they got there. ‘Kathleen will be wondering where we are.’ It was so long since he’d seen that kindly soul, he had almost forgotten what she looked like.

‘What if she doesn’t like me?’ Tom began to fret again.

Harry gave the boy a loving glance, observing the eager eyes and the endless mop of brown hair, and the little face that could never be described as handsome, but was honest and giving. In that moment, he saw the mother in the child, and the pride was like a flame burning his chest.

‘Will you stop worrying!’ he said fondly. ‘She’ll love you to bits!’

‘She’s not my mammy though.’ A familiar little frown crumpled the boy’s forehead. ‘You have to tell her.’

‘I will, of course I will, but she already knows that. Look, son, trust me. Kathleen would never try to take your mammy’s place. But she is a kind and wonderful person who is sure to want your happiness, every bit as much as I do.’

‘Is she young and pretty, like Mammy?’

Harry shook his head. ‘No, she’s not young. But as I recall, she did have a pretty face … kind of warm and smiley.’

‘Is she very old?’

He laughed. ‘Old enough, I suppose.’

‘Grandad was old, wasn’t he?’

‘I don’t know that he would have agreed, but yes, I dare say he was.’

‘Are you old, Daddy?’

Harry thought on that for a moment. ‘Well, thirty-six isn’t really meant to be old,’ he had been shaken by the realisation of how short life could be, ‘but yes, today, I do feel old.’

‘Am I old?’

Harry laughed at his innocence. ‘God, yes! You’re as old as Methuselah.’

‘Who’s Musoothella?’

Chuckling, Harry settled the boy into the back of the car. ‘He was a very wise person.’

‘Am I a wise person?’

His father gazed on him tenderly for a moment. ‘You know what?’

‘What?’

Harry gave a wistful smile. ‘I think you’re probably the wisest person in the whole wide world.’

‘Wise as Kathleen?’

‘Well, nobody’s as wise as Kathleen, but near enough, I reckon.’

Harry gave an involuntary shiver. Today had been a typical late-summer day, with long spells of bright sunshine and a warm, gentle breeze. Now though, with the onset of evening, the clouds hung menacingly low, and there was a sudden nip in the air. ‘We might just get there before dark,’ he muttered, covering Tom with the tartan travelling rug and pressing Loppy into his arms.

He then gazed back a moment to where they had been. Only the fleetest of moments, but he held it safe in his mind for all time.

Quickly now, he climbed into the driving seat and glanced in the mirror, to see the boy’s head lolling to one side. ‘That’s right, son,’ he murmured. ‘You get some sleep.’

Before starting the engine he glanced at the sleepy boy, ‘Aw, child! You give me so much joy … and I have nothing to give you in return.’

Driving away, he wondered what lay in store for them both. In the wake of recent events, he had made a hasty decision. Now with every mile that took them closer, the doubts grew stronger.

He had been a youth of eighteen when he left Fisher’s Hill. He didn’t altogether leave because he wanted to; war was in the air, and joining up seemed like the right thing at the time. He had left his home under a cloud, trailing with him a deal of heartache and regrets, with the intention of returning.

In the eighteen years between, he had never forgotten the place that he loved so much. He moved away, travelling far and wide, and eventually settled after the war in Weymouth, with his new sweetheart, Sara, but Fisher’s Hill and Judy remained a part of him, with the bad memories always overshadowing the good.

Even now, it was hard to believe that he was just a heartbeat away from Fisher’s Hill.

When he had first contacted Kathleen after Sara’s funeral, he was amazed and reassured to find that she was still alive, still the same lovely, homely person, and that she would welcome him and young Tom with open arms.

In his grief, he had needed something familiar and comforting, and it did his heart good just to see her familiar handwriting.

How many of his old mates might still be living there? He was thinking especially of Phil Saunders. Had he stayed? Had any of them gone back after the war – if they got through intact – and if they had, would they welcome him with open arms, or would they reject him, as he had rejected them all those years ago …

And what of his old sweetheart, Judy? Was she still there? Had she met someone – and if so, were they happy, or like himself, had she been badly scarred by what happened back then? He hoped not. Oh, he truly hoped not.

Aching with regrets, he slowed the car into the side of the road, where he remained for what seemed an age; thinking, remembering. Hurting all over again.

‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’ Opening his eyes, Tom peered at him through the mirror.

‘Nothing’s wrong, son.’

‘Why aren’t we moving?’

‘I just need a minute,’ he replied. ‘A minute, that’s all … to get my thoughts together.’

Collecting a comic book from the passenger seat, he handed it back to Tom, watching in the mirror as the child began to quietly look at it and read a few words to himself.

‘Judy might not be there,’ Harry muttered under his breath. ‘I didn’t want to ask about her, and Kathleen never volunteered any information.’ He hoped that was a good sign. ‘I expect she’s moved on … made a new life for herself.’

The man that Sara had moulded ached for his wife.

The boy inside the man longed for the one called Judy.

After all these years Harry could still see how heartless he had been. In spite of what had happened, he had truly loved her, back then, when he was just a youth.

Now though, he was a man with a man’s responsibilities. He had lost the woman he loved and married, and he had a child to care for. He had no right to fret about the past because right now, at this moment in time, he was only concerned with building a new life for himself and Tom. That was his priority. He had to keep reminding himself of that!

At the junction he saw the sign, and his heart lurched:

Fisher’s Hill – 2 Miles

He wondered if it would be wise to ring Kathleen and say he had changed his mind, that he was not coming back after all, but that he would keep in touch.

Then he was ashamed to himself. What’s the matter with you? he thought. So you want to turn tail and run, is that it? It wouldn’t be the first time, he admitted to himself, shamefacedly.

No! The choice was made. He had to go on. Kathleen was waiting, looking forward to seeing him and Tom. She was the only one who had stood by him, the only one who believed in him.

Thankful that Tom had drifted back to sleep, he realised how fortunate he was to have a friend like Kathleen.

Kathleen would give Tom a woman’s love and comfort, he knew. He believed that beyond a shadow of doubt, because hadn’t she done that for him? She had always been there for him. It was Kathleen who had seen him through that dreadful time with Judy, and she had never once judged him.

When his father took off with another woman and his mother turned to drink, he had felt so alone, but as always, Kathleen gave him comfort.

Some months later, drunk and violent, his father came back, pleading that he was ready to try again. That night, while Harry was out with his mates, his parents got into a fight and somehow a fire started – ‘from a lit cigarette on the bedclothes’ the investigators said.

Witnesses claimed that the fire exploded into a raging inferno. The emergency services arrived within minutes, but it was too late. ‘A tragic accident’ was the verdict.

That same night, Kathleen took him in and brought him through the nightmare of losing both his parents.

Through each and every crisis in his colourful, rebellious youth, Kathleen had been his only salvation; a tower of strength.

During the war, and his proud time of serving with the Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire Regiment, she was like a mother to him, keeping him safe, he felt, with her parcels and prayers. More than one thousand men were killed from the regiment, but Corporal, then Sergeant Harry Blake was not one of them. And now, when he had turned to her yet again, after years of deserting her and all that reminded him of his time at Fisher’s Hill, she had welcomed him with open arms.

Stronger of heart, he drove on. Tom half-opened his eyes. ‘Are we there yet, Daddy?’

‘Not yet, Tom, no. Go back to sleep if you’re tired.’ He saw how the boy was still drowsy. Since Sara was taken, neither he nor Tom had slept through the night.

Minutes later, he pulled off the main road and drove very slowly up the lane leading to Fisher’s Hill.

He had come this far and now, whatever the outcome, there was no way back.

Returning here, to the place of his youth, to his family roots, his first sweetheart and the tragedy of losing his parents, was the worst feeling. Yet coming back had always seemed inevitable, somehow. It was something he had needed to do, unfinished business, and when Sara was lost to him, turning to Kathleen seemed the most natural thing in the world.

As he drew closer, his heart was clenched like a fist, his throat so dry he could hardly swallow. He felt much like a man might feel on his way to the gallows. It was right that he should suffer, he thought cynically. A kind of penance for his sins.

One glance at the sleeping child in the back made him ashamed. It was Tom who mattered; not him.

Determined to concentrate on what lay ahead, he inched the car forward, his anxious gaze drawn towards the houses. As far as he could see, nothing had changed; every little detail was exactly as he remembered it. The brown-bricked houses were still there, strong and sturdy snuggled up side by side, with their little front walls and concrete paths, tidy well-kept gardens and net curtains at the windows; many of them twitching as folks peered through to take a look at the Hillman Minx moving at a snail’s pace up the hill.

His troubled gaze went to the house on the corner. Number 12 – there it was on the door in large brass numbers just as he remembered.

He wondered if he was being watched. Was Judy there, still living at home? Was she hiding behind the curtains, her sorry eyes trained on him in that very moment? Or had she really gone for ever, from the house, this street, and his life?

He had no way of knowing, because in the many recent telephone conversations between them, Kathleen had never once mentioned Judy, and neither had he. It was for the best, he thought.

In spite of himself, and even when he had met and married his lovely Sara, Judy had lingered, in the boy, and in the man; and the questions never went away. After he was gone, did she realise how he had had no choice but to do what he had done … for both their sakes? Or had she despised him to this day, and found contentment with someone more deserving?

‘Let it go, Harry,’ he told himself firmly. ‘It was a lifetime ago.’

But he couldn’t let it go. Against his better instincts, his quiet gaze lingered on the house. In his mind’s eye he could see himself and Judy, laughing at silly, childish things; dancing to music on the wireless or just curled up on the sofa. He pictured them both running down the path, hand-in-hand, incredibly young and blissfully happy. Then he remembered the bombshell that ruined it all. If only he’d known! But he had never even suspected. So why then, should he feel so guilty?

He closed his eyes, the memories too painful. ‘I did love you, Judy,’ he told that young girl. ‘Don’t ever doubt that.’

Braking, and putting the car into neutral, he turned to look at the sleeping child. ‘Your mammy knew what I had done,’ he whispered. ‘I told her everything, yet she took me into her life without question, accepting me as I was. She gave me a new start … taught me how to love again.’

The tears burned his eyes. ‘I’m sorry you lost her, Tom,’ he murmured. ‘So sorry.’ Leaning over, he stroked the child’s soft hair. ‘Your darling mammy was a wonderful woman and I loved her with every fibre of my being. You’ll always miss her, and so will I, but I promise you … whatever life throws at us, we’ll face it full on. You need have no worries, because I’ll always be here for you.’

He raised his eyes to the shifting skies. ‘Oh, Sara! I know you believed I should come back here, but now that I’m only a short distance away from where it all happened, I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Did you think that I might find the forgiveness I crave? Or was your intention that I should settle the past once and for all, whatever the consequences?’

He closed his eyes, but the chaos in his mind was rampant, until he turned yet again to gaze on his son. Sara had entrusted him to take care of the boy and, for now, that was all that mattered.

For a moment he dwelled on all that was good in his life, and he felt at peace. ‘I’ll take good care of him, Sara, my love,’ he vowed. ‘With all that’s in me, I give you my word.’

Composing himself, he put the car into gear and drove on up towards Kathleen’s house. As he drew closer, the street enveloped him. It was as if he had never been away.

Kathleen O’Leary had been keeping vigil at the window. When she saw the car approach, she pressed close to the pane, her anxious gaze searching for the young man she had known all those years ago. When she recognised him, her heart leaped.

Flinging open her front door, she ran down the path to greet him; a small round woman with a mop of wild auburn hair and a crinkly, homely face that made you smile. ‘Harry, me darlin’! I’ve been watching out for youse both …’ Her Irish lilt was music to his ears. ‘Sure I was worried you might change your mind, but now look, here you are at long last!’ He had not changed, she thought. He was taller, wider of shoulder, and life had etched itself in his face, but it was him – Harry Boy – the lad she had cared for all those years ago. Her surrogate son.

She grabbed Harry as he got out of the car, and for a long time, they clung to each other. He had not realised just how desperately he needed to see that familiar, welcoming face and to feel those chubby comforting arms about him. The bright eyes were the same, and the wide, ready smile, filled with such kindliness.

‘Aw, Harry Boy … will ye look at yourself? Isn’t it the strong fine man you are!’ She held him at arm’s length, her quick brown eyes travelling the length and breadth of Harry’s physique. ‘Ah sure, you’ve not changed a bit. You’re the same handsome, capable fella with the same dark eyes and wild mop of chestnut-coloured hair.’ A tear brightened her eyes. ‘You’ve a sadness about ye though,’ she murmured. ‘I can see I’ll have to bring back that winning smile, so I will.’

‘Oh, Kathleen.’ Harry was deeply touched by her concern. ‘You can’t know how wonderful it is to see you again.’ Moved by a well of emotion, he clutched hold of her shoulders. ‘We’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

‘Give over with you! Sure, I’m only glad you’ve arrived safely, so I am.’ She covered him in a beaming smile. ‘And I am so longing to see the darlin’ child.’

Peering into the back of the car, she gleefully clapped her hands together. ‘Oh now, will ye look at the little fella. Sure, it doesn’t seem a minute since yerself was just a lad.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure I don’t know where the years have gone … and now here ye are with a wee bairn of yer own.’

Gently waking Tom, and helping him out of the car, Harry watched as Kathleen took him into those fat little arms, her face wet with tears. ‘Oh, but I’m glad you’re back, Harry,’ she told him fondly. ‘An’ now you’ve brought a little angel with you … Tom, a grand name, and a grand little face.’ She kissed the sleepy upturned face, and thought how lost the little boy must be without his beloved mammy.

Thinking of Harry’s young wife, taken all too soon, she caught his quiet gaze. ‘I’m sorry, me darlin’, about what happened. It’s been hard going for you and the wee bairn, I know that.’

Harry nodded, tears in his own eyes. ‘I feel lost, Kathleen,’ he admitted brokenly. ‘Me and the boy both.’

Smiling through the emotional moment, she grabbed them both into her embrace. ‘Ah sure, ye have me, so y’do,’ she said warmly. ‘I’ll look after youse, don’t you worry about that.’

‘You’re a woman in a million,’ Harry told her. ‘I don’t know what Tom and I would have done without you. And all those years back, whenever my life took a bad turn, you were always there, ready to put me back together again.’

He had been away for so long, and yet he remembered it all, as if it was only yesterday.

Since the day he left Fisher’s Hill, he had regretted the hurt he caused; though given the same circumstances, he believed he would have to do the very same again.

Standing here outside Kathleen’s house and looking down that familiar street, he felt oddly out of place. It was as though he was looking through a darkened window into the past. It was the strangest feeling, with his emotions torn in every direction.

Sensing his turmoil, Kathleen assured him, ‘I kept my word, Harry. I never told anyone that you were on your way back.’

Harry nodded. ‘And Judy? How did she get through it? What happened to her, Kathleen? I need to know.’

The small woman slowly shook her head. ‘Judy is long gone from the street.’ Glancing at the child, she suggested quietly, ‘Best if we talk about it later, eh?’

He understood. ‘You’re right,’ he answered. ‘This isn’t the time.’ He had not expected to be disappointed at the news of Judy’s leaving, but he was.

Kathleen saw his reaction. ‘You’ve had a bad time of it, you and the bairn,’ she murmured. ‘I know how hard it must have been for you to come back here.’ Her quick, warm smile was like a ray of sunshine. ‘But if it’s peace of mind ye’re after, sure you’ve come to the right place.’

Harry nodded in agreement. It had taken all his willpower to come home, but he was here now, and more importantly, it was what his darling Sara had wanted.

Not for the first time, he counted his blessings. He had rekindled his friendship with dear Kathleen, he had his precious son, and the unforgettable memories of Sara, and he was immensely grateful. Yet, even with all of that, he still felt incredibly alone.

Both his parents were long gone; there were no brothers or sisters or any other relatives that he knew of, and his happy-go-lucky schoolmates, with their passion for girls and motorbikes, by now had probably moved away and had wives and families.

Here in this ordinary place, he had lived with the consequences of drunken, violent parents. He had experienced terror of a kind that no child should ever encounter. But he had forged deep friendships, and found his first real love in a girl called Judy. It had been an overwhelmingly beautiful experience, and to his dying day he would never forget how it was. But it was never meant to last, and for that he would be forever sorry.

Then, when he was at his lowest ebb, he had found another love – oh, not like before, because a man’s first love is too deep and fulfilling to ever forget – but little Tom’s mother, Sara, was a wise and beautiful creature with a generous heart. He came to love her deeply, but it could never be the same, all-consuming love he had felt for Judy, the young, sweet girl who had wakened his manhood and opened his heart like summer after winter.

Sara though, had been his salvation. She was forgiving and thoughtful, and he regarded himself as a very fortunate man to have had such joy and beauty in his life.

Over and over, he recalled the night when he had confided in Sara, revealing how it had been between himself and Judy, and of the awful manner in which their relationship had ended.

Sara did not blame or scold, nor did she judge. Instead, she listened to him, but it was never forgotten; not by him, and he knew not by her. Yet she stood by him, like the gentle person she was.

But it was never enough! He needed to confront the demons. He needed forgiveness from the very person he had hurt. But that was not to be, and so he had learned to live with the guilt.

‘Come on now, Harry Boy,’ Kathleen said cheerfully, as she waddled back up to the house. ‘Let’s get your man inside.’

Hoisting his yawning son into his arms, Harry took a moment to follow, his attention still trained on number twelve. So, Judy had gone, and now he might never be able to make amends.

He let the past take him for a while.

Then he turned and hurried after Kathleen.