Читать книгу Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber - Josephine Cox - Страница 21

JUST AS THE postman was about to drop the mail through the letterbox, Jasper opened the door and saved him the trouble. ‘Morning, Ted,’ he yawned. ‘What you got for me then?’

Thinking Jasper looked a right sketch in his old, worn pyjamas with his hair stood up on end, the postman turned the letter over in his hand. Squinting at the postmark, he told Jasper, ‘It’s from Buckinghamshire.’

‘Can’t be for me then,’ Jasper remarked. ‘I don’t know anybody who lives in Buckinghamshire.’

‘Well, it’s addressed to you.’ The postman checked the address. ‘There you are, it’s for you all right.’ He handed the letter over. ‘Looks like a woman’s writing.’ He laughed. ‘A woman from your past who’s tracked you down.’

Jasper shoved the letter in his pocket. ‘If they’re after me money, they’ll be disappointed ’cause I ain’t got none.’ He collected his milk and stepped back into the passage. ‘Come in, Ted. I’ve just this minute put the kettle on.’

‘Can’t.’ Heaving his heavy sack onto his shoulders, Ted apologised. ‘Any other time I’d be glad to, but not today. There’s a union meeting at twelve. I daren’t be late for that.’

Jasper knew all about these union meetings. ‘I suppose yer all planning to go on strike. An’ never mind the poor folks as won’t get their mail for weeks on end. What’s it all about now?’

‘I never said we were going on strike, Jasper, and I’ll thank you not to spread that about. It could cause all manner of trouble.’

Jasper grinned. ‘What meks yer think I’d spread it about?’

The postman shook his head, his smile as wide as Jasper’s. ‘’Cause you’re a mischievous bugger, that’s why!’ Knowing how Jasper could always get the better of anyone in an argument, he bade him good morning and went on his way.

‘Good job yer know when to quit!’ Jasper called after him in light-hearted humour. ‘I’ve a reputation for making mincemeat outta troublemakers like you.’

With his milk under one arm and his paper under the other, he made his way to the kitchen. Throwing the letter on the table, he ignored it while he tucked into his bowl of porridge, helped down with two mugs of tea. ‘I don’t know anybody in Buckinghamshire,’ he grumbled on. ‘It can’t be for me!’

He finished his porridge and read his paper, and every now and then cast an eye on that small white envelope, but he made no move to open it. ‘It’ll be some damned silly company, trying to sell me summat.’

A few minutes later, as he cleared the table, his curiosity got the better of him. Leaning down to examine the letter more closely, he was shocked. ‘My God!’ Recognising the handwriting, he snatched up the letter and tore it open. ‘It is!’ he murmured. ‘It’s her!’

As he read the letter his old face creased into a smile. ‘Well, I never.’ He gave a delighted chuckle. ‘It’s from Liz! After all this time.’ He read the letter again just to be sure.

Dear Jasper,

I’m sorry I haven’t written before, but I knew how you would be taking care of everything, so I didn’t feel there was any urgency. Besides, as I’m sure you can understand, I had a great deal to think about, and young Robbie was so upset about his daddy not coming back. It’s been so hard, trying to understand why he abandoned us like he did, but then I don’t really know the circumstances behind it all.

I took Robbie away for a long holiday, and when he seemed so happy in Scotland, I decided to stay there for a time. I rented a house and Robbie went to school, and for a time it seemed as though we might make it a permanent home. But then, Robbie got homesick, and we decided to come back south. Since we’ve been back, he’s smiled a lot more, and slowly but surely he’s coming to terms with not having his daddy close by.

Did Robert ever come back, Jasper? Have you heard from him? I miss your old face, with its whiskers and that mischievous grin. The truth is, I would very much like to see you, though I’m not ready to return to West Bay; it would be too painful … I know I would see him everywhere I went.

Thank you for looking after the cottage, Jasper. I see from the bank statements that you have a tenant. Is it a man or a woman, or maybe a family? And what about Barden House? Is it falling to rack and ruin? I know I asked you to leave it the way it was, and I still feel that way about it. But I’ve begun to feel that maybe I didn’t have the right. It wasn’t my house. It was his. But, you see, Jasper, it was our home … the happiest place on God’s earth. To clean it, or to rearrange the garden, would be to change the memories, and I couldn’t bear that.

Maybe he’ll come back and decide what to do with the house. Maybe he’ll look for me and his son, and explain his reason for abandoning us. We do miss him so much.

I have many questions, Jasper.

You’ll find a train ticket to Bletchley in the envelope, together with instructions from there and my address.

Robbie and I would love to have you come and stay for a while … if you can bear to leave your beloved West Bay.

Please say you will.

All our love,

Liz and Robbie

Slumping into the chair, Jasper held the letter in his hand. ‘How can I tell her?’ he wondered. ‘It might be kinder to let her go on thinking he abandoned them.’

It was a terrible decision for him to make, but after a while he knew what he must do. ‘She’ll have to be told, but not in a letter.’

Now that his mind was made up, he didn’t hesitate. Getting out of the chair, he went to the dresser, where he found a writing pad and pack of envelopes. ‘I’ll go and see them.’ In fact, now that he’d decided to go, he began to look forward to it.

Jasper was not a man of letters, so his reply was short and to the point.

Dear Liz.

It was wonderful to hear from you. I knew you would get in touch eventually.

Thank you for the ticket. I shall be up to see you …

He glanced again at the date on the ticket.

… Thursday 25 September. Meanwhile take care of yourself. Love to you both, Jasper.

Closing the letter into an envelope, he sealed it with the tip of his tongue. Then he copied down the address she’d given him, and laid it on the table beside the train ticket and travel instructions.

‘I’m sorry, lass,’ he muttered, ‘but you’ll happen not be so glad to see me as you think.’ Imparting the sad news to that lovely lady was not something he looked forward to.

That night, over a drink in the privacy of the cottage garden, Jasper confided in Tom. ‘I’m going away,’ he explained. ‘There’s summat I have to do.’

Tom had seen how the old man had been unusually quiet, and was concerned. ‘Is it serious?’ he asked now. ‘I mean … you’re not ill, are you, Jasper?’ That would be a shocking blow, for he had come to love the old man like a father. In fact, he seemed more of a father than his own had been, since he had deserted him and Dougie when they were small. When they lost their mother soon after, Tom put it down to a broken heart. After that they were shifted from relative to relative. It had been a harsh and unsettled upbringing.

Jasper put his mind at rest. ‘No, lad, I’m not ill. But I’ve a terrible duty to perform, and it’s playing on my mind.’

‘Would it help to talk about it?’ Tom could see how it was worrying the old man.

It took a moment for Jasper to answer, but when he did it was with a deep-down sigh. ‘Happen it would,’ he agreed. ‘Aye, happen it would.’

Before commencing, he took a fortifying sip of his tea, and there in that pretty garden on that pleasant autumn evening, he told Tom the whole sorry, beautiful tale of Kathy’s father, Robert, and the woman he loved.

‘Liz and her husband Gordon lived here in this very cottage for many years,’ he began. ‘He had a thriving ironmongery business in Bridport and another in Dorchester, so they weren’t short of brass. But “brass” doesn’t always make for contentment, and they were far from content. From what Liz told me, it wasn’t an ideal match. He was a bit of a bully and she, being the gentle, compassionate soul she is, suffered his temper tantrums with dignity.’

He gave a tender smile. ‘She was trained as a nurse, so I expect she was used to handling every situation, but, because of Gordon’s nasty ways, over the years he lost her respect, and in the end he lost her love.’

He described how it all ended. ‘Gordon took to womanising. One dark night just before the war he’d been into Bridport … seeing this woman he’d taken a fancy to. It turned out later that the pair of them had drunk enough booze to sink a battleship. Anyway, he’d missed the last bus, so he decided to walk back to West Bay. Coming across the junction he must have stumbled; he was run down by a lorry … the driver said he just seemed to come out of nowhere. A car driver coming the other way witnessed it, too. He said the lorry driver couldn’t have done a thing to stop what happened.’

The old man threw out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Gordon were killed instantly, and Liz was left on her own, though after a time she came out of her shell and seemed a far happier person than she’d been with him. But she was that lonely. Sometimes you’d see her walking the beach, deep in thought, and other times she’d call me in for a cup of tea and she’d tell me about when she were a girl and how she’d allus longed for a brother or sister. Then, like now, she felt terrible lonely.’

Tom nodded. He knew how that felt. ‘She’s fortunate to have you for a friend. We both are.’

The old man thanked him for the compliment, and added, ‘She were a lovely-looking lady, still young …’ He chuckled. ‘I can never tell a woman’s age.’

Tom was curious. ‘Did she ever marry again? Is that why she moved away from here?’

‘No. It weren’t like that. Y’see, one day in early spring some nine years ago, a man came to stay in West Bay.’ His memories took him back, and made him smile. ‘Oh, but he did love this place. He once told me how he left all his troubles behind when he stayed here.’

He explained how Liz and Robert became good friends, and then how friendship blossomed into love. ‘I introduced them,’ he said proudly. ‘Liz and I were collecting shells for her garden, when we bumped into him. I asked if he’d like to join us for a drink at the café, and before yer knew it, he and Liz were like old buddies.’

Leaning back in his chair, he went on, ‘They saw each other most every day; when he went away, she watched at the window for him to come back. By! I’ve never seen two people so much in love … it were a pleasure to watch. It weren’t long afore Barden House was on the market, and he bought it. He were a businessman … worked hard and travelled far in his work. He bought the house, and spent time here, whenever his work allowed. They lived there together, and then they had a son.’

He took a moment before going on, in a quiet, reverent voice. ‘Folks round here turned a blind eye to them not being married … we all reckoned Liz deserved same happiness. Then, one day last year, he went away and never came back. Poor Liz were broken-hearted. She spent weeks watching and waiting, but he never did return. Soon after that, she closed up Barden House, put this cottage up for rent, and left. She said she were headed for Scotland or Ireland or somewhere. Me and the agent were given joint responsibility for the cottage, and I’ve done my best by her. Yet, it’s a strange thing, working for someone you can’t contact.’

Tom wondered aloud, ‘Why would he do that … just leave and never come back? Especially if he was so happy with her.’

The old man explained how Robert had discovered he was very ill. ‘He didn’t want her to know; he were trying to protect her,’ he said. ‘But I wonder if that was the right thing to do? It caused her so much pain … mebbe even more pain than if he’d let her know the reason for his going.’

‘It does seem harsh.’ Tom thought it was the saddest, most noble thing he had ever heard. ‘I suppose he thought he was doing the right thing for her. But he was making a tremendous sacrifice, when he must have wanted her close, more than anything in the world.’

‘She certainly suffered, I can tell yer,’ Jasper told him. ‘And, like you say, I’m sure it was a hard thing for him to do, poor devil!’ Jasper had thought long and hard about it since Kathy told him. ‘While Liz was thinking he’d left because he didn’t want her or the child any more, the poor man was fighting for his life; probably aching to let her know, but not wanting to hurt her.’

He now revealed what Tom had begun to suspect. ‘He were wed, d’yer see? Got children from his marriage an’ all. It couldn’t have been easy either way.’

Finally, he told Tom of Liz’s letter and of how she wanted him to go and see her. ‘So there yer ’ave it, son. I’ve a sorry duty to perform, but she has to know. It would be wicked not to tell her the truth.’

Tom was intrigued. ‘If he went away and just never came back, how did you find out what happened? Did he write and ask you not to tell her?’

‘No. It were a lass who told me.’ He gave a little secret smile. ‘A lass that you know very well.’ While Tom searched his mind, Jasper revealed, ‘It were Kathy as told me.’

Now Tom was confused. ‘But … how would she know?’

‘Because the man Liz fell in love with were Kathy’s own father.’

‘My God! Did she know … about Liz, I mean?’

The old man shook his head. ‘The poor lass knew nothing of his life here in West Bay until after he were gone. He bought Barden House in her name, before his son were born. When she found out about her father and his secret life, she were terrible upset. Oh, not because of that, but because he hadn’t trusted her enough to confide in her. Y’see, from what I can gather, she and her father were very close. She were distraught at losing him. I reckon that’s why she’s settled so well in the house, because that’s where he found the happiness he never found with her mother.’

He went on. ‘We talked, y’see … me an’ Kathy. That’s when she told me who she was, and how she came to be here.’ He pursed his lips when deep in thought, as he was now. ‘She’s had a hard time all told,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’ve taken her to heart.’

Tom was astonished. So it seemed he wasn’t the only one with secrets. ‘I never knew. And does she know … about Liz and her father?’

The old man nodded. ‘She does now, because I told her. She wanted to learn everything about her father and his life here. I told her all I knew … about how much in love they were, and how she’s got a baby brother she’s never seen. It were a terrible shock, I can tell yer.’

Tom thought about Kathy, and his feelings for her, and it seemed to him that her father had loved this woman, Liz, with the same passion and commitment with which he loved Kathy. He thought it a strange and wonderful thing; but then, Fate had a habit of weaving her web in a way that surprised them all.

‘Will Kathy be going with you … to see Liz and the boy?’

The old man shook his head. ‘No. Like I say, I’ve only just found out myself where Liz is staying. I haven’t told Kathy, and I don’t intend to. Y’see, Tom, it ain’t my business to do that … It’s for Liz herself to do.’

His mind was made up. ‘Soonever she gets over the shock of what happened to Robert, I mean to ask her to come and meet his daughter.’

‘Do you think she will?’

‘I don’t know. But it has to be her choice.’

‘So, you don’t want me to mention any of this to Kathy?’

‘I’d be grateful for that.’

‘Then I’ll forget we even talked about it.’

‘Can I ask you summat else?’

‘Ask away.’

‘I think it might be best if I don’t see Kathy before I go, in case she asks where I’m going. I’ve never been one for telling a lie, and I don’t want to start now. Especially when it’s Kathy.’

Tom anticipated his question. ‘So, you want me to tell her you’re away, is that it?’

‘That’s it, son.’ Jasper was relieved. ‘If yer could just say I’ve gone to see an old friend, you’ll not be lying, and hopefully that should satisfy her curiosity.’

‘Consider it done.’ It was little enough, Tom thought.

‘I appreciate that.’ The old man explained, ‘If I can persuade Liz to come and see her, or even write to her, it’ll all be worth it, I reckon.’

‘I hope she agrees.’ Tom also thought it would be a good thing. ‘From what you’ve told me, I think it would benefit them both.’

Before leaving, the old man shook Tom by the hand, telling him in a half-whisper: ‘It would do my old heart good to see you and Kathy as happy and content as they were.’

Tom understood. For didn’t he want the very same, with all his heart?

The following morning at early light, the old man left his house and made his way down George Street. Not a soul was awake, and only the cats were about. ‘Hello, you.’ Pausing to stroke the tabby cat, he tickled its ear and gave a word of warning. ‘You’d best take yersel’ in outta the cold, afore yer tail drops off.’

Chilled by the early mist that rolled in off the sea, he pulled up the collar of his coat and, quickening his steps, made off towards the main road.

There were only two passengers on the bus besides himself: a sleepy-eyed young lad who, judging by his worn black wellingtons and the cut of his clothes, was a farm-hand on his way to work; and a businessman in trilby and long coat, carrying a battered briefcase. From his confident smile and chirpy manner, Jasper assumed he was some sort of salesman.

‘Morning.’ Returning the man’s bright greeting, Jasper set his small case down beside his feet, shuffling uncomfortably in his best coat and hat. He didn’t look at the man again, because he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He needed to plan how he would tell Liz why her beloved Robert had not come back.

After being deposited a short distance from the railway station, he quickly made his way there. He boarded the train and showed his ticket, and was no sooner settled in his seat than the train was off. With a great whoosh of steam and a tug on the whistle, it was soon chugging away, its noisy, rhythmic motion lulling him to sleep.

On the same morning, Kathy was coming out of the shop when she almost collided with the postman. ‘I’ve a letter for you, Miss.’ A jolly-faced man with a head like a billiard ball, he knew every man, woman and child within a ten-mile radius of West Bay. ‘I really should deliver it through your letterbox myself,’ he said drily, ‘but, well, seeing as I’ve bumped into you like this, I don’t suppose it would do any harm, just this once.’ He glanced down at the letter. ‘From somebody important is it, d’you think?’

‘I won’t know till I look inside.’ Holding out her hand, Kathy thought she had better take it from him before he opened it himself. ‘I don’t know who could be writing to me,’ she remarked, quickly taking possession of the letter. ‘Hardly anyone knows my address.’

‘Really?’ He liked a bit of gossip, and being a postman offered unique opportunities in that direction. ‘Is that from neglect or choice?’ he wanted to know.

‘Choice,’ Kathy declared. ‘The fewer people who know where I am, the more peace and quiet I’ll get.’

‘Peace and quiet!’ He was amazed. ‘I should have thought a young woman like yourself would welcome company?’

Kathy gave him one of her sweeter smiles. ‘Well, you’d be wrong then, wouldn’t you?’ Itching to see who the letter was from, she hurried away.

She could hear him moaning as she went. ‘Well, I never,’ he complained to the old shopkeeper. ‘There’s a young madam if ever I saw one!’

If he thought to get support from Jasper’s old pal, he was mistaken, for as Kathy turned the corner she could hear the old woman’s curt reply. ‘Serves you right for being such a nosey old so-and-so!’ And off she went back inside to take a well-earned pinch of snuff.

Closing the front door behind her, Kathy threw off her coat. Going to the table, she sat herself down. The handwriting was childish, but she knew whose it was.

Ripping open the envelope, she read the first line. It was enough to tell her that the letter really was from Maggie.

As she read she began to smile, then she tittered, then she was laughing out loud. In full colour and with her incorrigible sense of humour, Maggie had written a lengthy account of her recent exploits. It began:

Hello, Kathy, old gal,

What yer been up to then, eh? Whatever it is, I bet yer ain’t been having as much fun as your old friend, Maggie.

What have I been up to now, you may well ask. Well, I’ll tell you. First of all, that arsehole of a manager at the pictures gave me the bleeding sack! Would you believe it, eh? Bloody cheek! And me the best usherette he’s ever had … no, not in that way, gal … I mean, I’m the best usherette he’s ever had … under the table, and on it. In between the rows of seats after everybody’s gone home, and anywhere else that took our fancy.

Only I had this unholy row with this old woman, and her snotty-nosed ratbag of a kid! I’d like to have wrung both their bleedin’ necks, only I never got the chance. Anyway, the upshot of it all is this; me and the old cow got into another fight, and there was this other old bugger who went berserk with an umbrella, and all hell were let loose. Everybody walked out and the manager had to pay money back, and I got the blame … as usual!

So then I got the sack, but he paid me well, though I bet he wished to God he hadn’t, ’cause I phoned his wife and said he were sick. Then I teased the old bugger like there was no tomorrow. When his wife walked in, I started crying an’ screaming about how he’d taken advantage of me, poor girl that I am. She offered me money to keep my mouth shut – all to do with pride and shame I expect. Truth is, gal, I don’t give a bugger what it’s to do with, so long as it’s me as comes off best in the end, which this time I did!

Anyway, that’s all my news, except to say I ain’t forgot where yer are, gal, don’t think that. Now I got some money, I’m hoping to have a little holiday. One o’ these fine days, I’ll turn up on your doorstep like a bad penny, you see if I don’t.

Till then, take care of yourself, gal.

Luv yer till the cows come home, Maggie.

There was spilt ink and coffee stains all over the pages. ‘You’ll never change, will you, Mags, and thank God for that.’ Kathy had laughed so hard her sides ached. She longed to see her friend.

She turned her attention to the chores of the day.

The laundry was her first task. Being used to taking her clothes to the laundry in Acton, and washing out her smalls in the sink, she had found it hard to get used to the copper-boiler that sat in the corner of the outhouse. She still washed her smalls in the bath, but for sheets and towels and anything heavy she had learned to use the boiler; though she had seen an advertisement for a twin-tub washing machine that she meant to buy when she had enough money. For now, though, it was sleeves rolled up and get on with it.

When the water was boiling she dropped the clothes in one by one, submerging them with the help of a long wooden stick which stood beside the boiler. When the clothes were rising and steeping, she went back inside the house.

Taking a newspaper and handbrush, she went to the fire-grate, where she dropped to her knees. It wasn’t a hard job, but it was dirty and dusty. So, she went slowly … shovelling the ashes out from underneath and placing them ever so gently into the laid-out newspaper.

When the ashes were all out, and the cinders piled onto the grating ready for the next fire, she folded the newspaper to make a little bag. She then carried the bag out to the bin, and returned to the kitchen.

Taking a floorcloth from the cupboard, she wet it through, wrung it out, and, going into the sitting room, wiped the hearth over until it shone. Next, she made a fan of the leftover newspapers, and set it in the hearth.

She then dusted the furniture and plumped the sofa cushions. All that remained was for her to go into the stair-cupboard and take out the carpet-sweeper.

This was a job she hated, because the stiff bristles on the carpet-sweeper soon got clogged up and needed cleaning every five minutes or so. Still, she told herself, it did a good job and that was all that mattered. ‘I need one of those vacuum cleaners,’ she muttered as she worked. That was another thing she meant to buy when she could afford it. There were a few things she needed, but they weren’t yet priorities on her list.

When the carpet was cleaned, she put away the sweeper and checked the washing; it was ready. Filling the deep pot sink with cold water, she took up the stick; teasing the clothes out one by one, she slid them into the sink, her face bright pink as the warm steam rose like a cloud to envelop her.

She gave the clothes a thorough rinsing, before wringing them out and folding them into her laundry-basket. Next, the boiler was emptied and the job done. ‘Thank goodness for that!’ It was the worst chore of all, she thought.

It didn’t take long to peg them out. Ten minutes later, they were hanging on the line, limp and dripping; until she sent the line sky-high with her wooden prop. Then the clothes caught the breeze and came alive, dancing and leaping about like crazy things.

Stooping to collect the stray pegs from the ground, Kathy was astonished to hear a voice calling her name. ‘Yoo-hoo! Where are ye, gal?’

Kathy couldn’t believe her ears. ‘MAGGIE!’ Dropping the pegs, she ran to the side gate, and there was Maggie, peering over the top and grinning from ear to ear, asking to be let in. ‘If this is the way you treat yer visitors, I might not come ’ere again!’ she said with feigned disgust.

Throwing open the gate, Kathy grabbed her in a fast embrace. ‘What are you doing here? Why didn’t you let me know?’ The questions came thick and fast, with Maggie claiming she was ‘gasping for a cuppa’ and that she would answer all her questions when she’d been ‘fed and watered’.

Once inside, Maggie asked to be shown round the house, examining every nook and cranny, and making comments as she went. With wide, wondering eyes, she went from room to room upstairs and down. ‘Cor! Some place this is, gal,’ she remarked proudly. ‘Whatever will yer do with all this space?’

Kathy sighed. ‘Oh, I expect I’ll have to manage somehow,’ she answered with a chuckle.

‘What! Ye could get three o’ my flats in ’ere an’ no mistake!’ Maggie couldn’t believe that Kathy had been fortunate enough to be left such a beautiful place. ‘An’ you’ve got it so pretty, gal,’ she said admiringly, ‘but then you were allus good at that kinda thing.’

Kathy was glad Maggie had given her approval. It meant a lot for her friend to appreciate her home. ‘You’re staying with me for a long time, aren’t you?’ she asked hopefully.

Maggie was cagey with her answer. ‘Head for the kitchen,’ she suggested, ‘make us a brew and see if ye can’t find a piece o’ cake or summat, an’ I’ll tell you me plans.’

First settling Maggie in the sitting room with a piece of fruit cake, Kathy set about making a pot of tea, which she then carried into the sitting room along with two cups and saucers, and another helping of cake, just in case Maggie was still hungry. ‘I can make you some cheese on toast if you like?’ she offered. ‘Or there’s two eggs in the cupboard … I can fry them or poach, whichever way you like.’

Maggie was satisfied. ‘The cake will do fine, gal,’ she replied, ‘but thanks all the same.’

Thrilled to see her friend, Kathy let herself get carried away. ‘How long will you stay … a week … two? Oh, Maggie! It’s so good to have you here.’

Maggie dashed all her hopes. ‘Sorry, gal,’ she said with a grimace, ‘but it’s only a flying visit. I’ll be starting a new job in a couple of days’ time, and I need to get back. I just grabbed the opportunity to come and see you, but I can only stay the one night. Still, now that I know where you are, I’ll make it my business to get back just as soon as I can. Then, maybe I can stay a while longer, eh?’

Kathy was disappointed and it showed, but she did her best to make Maggie feel comfortable. ‘Never mind,’ she said, ‘as long as you’re here now, and yes, maybe next time we can enjoy a week or so together. Oh, Maggie! I’ve got so much to tell you.’

They sat and talked for a time, about how Kathy was settling in, and how she thought she would be happy here in West Bay, and the two of them were so obviously delighted to be in each other’s company again, even if it was for such a short time.

‘And are you going to show me what this place is like then?’ Maggie asked pointedly. ‘I’ll tell yer what I really fancy … a piping hot bag o’ fish and chips.’

‘Then you’ll not be disappointed,’ Kathy promised her.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Jasper arrived in Bletchley. Then he had a short bus-ride to Woburn, before he found himself in the prettiest village. ‘By! She certainly chose an interesting place to live.’ Impressed by the main street, which was a hive of little craft shops, tall Georgian houses all in a row, and a smattering of cafés and quaint old pubs, he took a minute to glance at the directions that Liz had sent him.

There was a little hand-drawn map. He studied it, mumbling as he read, ‘Straight up the High Street, past the Bull Inn; keep going, with the market square on your right. Then you pass the Town Hall. Cross the road to a terrace of cottages. You’ll find us at number eight … third along.’

Folding the letter into his pocket, he could see the Bull Inn from where he stood. ‘By! I could do with summat to wet me whistle,’ he muttered. But then he decided the pint of good stuff could wait. Right now, he had other priorities.

Following Liz’s directions to the letter, he eventually came to the row of cottages, as she’d described. Number eight had a pretty red door and a black lion’s-head knocker. He was about to raise the knocker when there came a shout from some way behind him. ‘JASPER!’ As he turned he was almost knocked over by a brown-haired lad, who wrapped himself round Jasper so hard that the old man could hardly breathe. ‘Oh, Jasper, you came to see us!’ Looking up, the boy was in tears. ‘I never thought you’d come. I never thought I’d see you again!’ Laughing now, he held onto Jasper as though he would never let go.

Taking the lad by the shoulders, the old man smiled down on him. ‘By! Look at you … all growed up and handsome as ever.’ Cradling his hands round the boy’s face, his voice shook with emotion. He hadn’t realised until now just how much he’d missed him. ‘What med yer think I’d not come to see you, eh? Yer shoulda known better.’

The boy looked round. ‘Have you brought my daddy?’

‘No, son, I haven’t seen your daddy.’ Now, as the boy dropped his gaze to the ground, the old man thought how like Robert he looked, and how much of a shock it would be for Kathy if ever she saw him. ‘Where’s yer mam?’

‘There!’ Quickly hiding his disappointment, the boy pointed. Jasper turned and there she was, almost on them now. Waving and smiling, she began running, with the old man’s fond gaze following her every move. Lovely as ever, with her hair plaited back, and her figure slim and elegant as before, he felt a pang of sorrow at the way she and Robert had been torn apart in such a cruel way.

Dropping her basket to the ground, she threw herself at him, holding onto him as fiercely as the boy had done, as though she was afraid he might suddenly disappear.

After a moment, she drew away. ‘You can’t know how good it is to see you,’ she murmured, and Jasper felt the same.

Holding the boy’s hand, he followed her inside. ‘You look well,’ he remarked. ‘You’ve not changed, either of yer.’ Yet they had, he thought. They seemed older, mellowed somehow, and the light of joy had gone from their eyes. He supposed that was because of Robert, and the circumstances which drove them from West Bay, a place they loved as much as he did. At his words, Liz turned, her whimsical smile betraying what was in her heart.

The cottage was warm and welcoming – like Liz herself, the old man thought. The living room was surprisingly open, with light wood furniture and a pretty Victorian fireplace, and at the far end, beyond the french doors, the garden seemed to stretch away for ever. Still alive with late-blooming plants, it was a feast for the eyes. ‘You’ve got a lovely place here,’ he told Liz, and she agreed, but, ‘It’s not home, Jasper,’ she murmured. ‘It never could be.’

‘Come and see your bedroom.’ The boy grabbed his hand. ‘I’ve made you a present.’

Liz laughed. ‘He spent all week making it,’ she explained, and Jasper said he couldn’t wait. ‘Take your case up,’ Liz suggested. ‘You might as well unpack.’

‘Lead on,’ he told the boy, who took him at a run across the room and up the stairs. When they got to the far end of the landing, he paused at one door and pointed to another. ‘That’s the bathroom,’ he said, ‘and this is your bedroom.’

Taking stock, the old man dropped his case to the floor and looked around. It was a pleasant room by any standards. There was a double bed with a cabinet alongside, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers, and on top a vase of yellow chrysanthemums. The curtains were of plain blue fabric, as was the bedspread. On the walls were pictures of boats and seascapes, and when the sun poured in through the window as it did now, the whole room was bathed in light, bringing the seascapes to life.

The boy ran to the dresser. ‘Look, Jasper! Here’s your present.’

Jasper was amazed; it was a sailing ship, all decked out, its sails unrolled to the wind, its smooth hull brightly painted. ‘By!’ He looked at the boy with admiration, and the smallest tinge of doubt. ‘Did you make that?’

He nodded. ‘Mum bought me a model. At first I couldn’t understand the instructions and I got a few things wrong, then Mum showed me and I was all right after that.’ He was quick to assure Jasper. ‘I made it all by myself. Honest!’

‘Well, you’ve done a grand job, son. Thank you.’ He took the ship into his hands and examined its every feature. ‘I’ll tell yer what.’ Replacing it, he gave the boy a hug. ‘When yer grow up, I reckon you’ll mek a fine craftsman. I expect you’ll make beautiful objects and travel the world. And I for one will be very proud.’

The boy shook his head. ‘No, Jasper! I want to be a sailor, like you.’

Jasper laughed. ‘You can be whatever yer like, son, as long as yer happy.’

From the doorway, Liz watched them together. She recalled how Robert used to speak to his son in much the same way. Thinking on it now almost broke her heart. How could he have deserted them like that? Time and again she was forced to remind herself of it. Robert deserted her and the boy. How could she ever forgive him?

Coming across the room, she walked into Jasper’s embrace. ‘You look well,’ she said.

He chuckled. ‘You know me,’ he answered, ‘I haven’t got time to be owt else.’

‘The journey wasn’t too tiring, was it?’

‘Not so I noticed.’

‘Did you manage to get anything to eat on the way?’

‘No. I made straight here, lass.’

‘Good! So you must be hungry. I’ve got ham salad. And lemon meringue pie for afterwards. I’ve been saving my coupons specially.’

The old man’s stomach grumbled at the thought. ‘And have yer a suitable drink for an old man who’s travelled miles at yer slightest whim?’ He winked at the boy. ‘I bet yer mam’s forgot what me tipple is.’

She hadn’t forgotten, because when they all trooped downstairs, she poured him a glass of good ale. ‘You enjoy that while I set about getting the meal.’

Raising the glass, Jasper drank her health and that of the boy. ‘I reckon me and the lad will sit in the sunshine awhile, if that’s all right with you?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘That’s a good idea.’ Her glance was meaningful. ‘We’ll talk later, when you can catch me up with all the news.’

‘Aye, lass.’ He had not forgotten why he was here. ‘I dare say we’ve a lot to talk about.’ At the back of his mind was the knowledge that he was obliged to tell her how Robert was gone for good. It was an unsettling prospect. For the moment, though, he would indulge the boy and do a bit of exploring.

For the next half-hour the two of them roamed the garden. Robbie showed him his favourite tree, complete with tree-house. ‘It was here when we came,’ he explained, ‘but it was falling apart, so I tidied it all up and made a door. When you’re inside, you can shut it and pretend you’re in the middle of the ocean, all on your own.’

‘And is that what you’d like … to be in the middle of the ocean, all on your own?’ The old man had noticed how the boy’s voice trembled, and could only imagine what was going on in his young mind.

The boy looked up at him, his eyes welling up with threatened tears. ‘Why didn’t my daddy come back for me?’ Suddenly the tears fell, and he could say no more.

‘Come here to me, son.’ The old man opened his arms. When the boy clung to him, he spoke softly. ‘Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand. But your daddy loved you, that I do know.’

For a while the boy cried softly, but when Jasper deliberately brought his attention to a pigeon that had settled on the tree-house, he was momentarily diverted. ‘I reckon he’s after some of our breakfast, what do you think?’

The boy was instantly concerned. ‘I’ve got an apple in the tree-house.’

‘How long’s it been there?’

‘Only a week.’ Already his tears were gone, but not the ache in his heart. That was hidden like before.

‘Will it still be crispy, d’yer think?’

‘It might be.’

‘Look, I’ll tell you what,’ the old man suggested. ‘I’m partial to a crispy apple. How about yer fetch it down and we’ll share it?’

‘All right!’ He liked that idea. ‘Why don’t we eat it in the tree-house?’

Jasper gave a cry of horror. ‘What? Yer mean yer want me to climb up there?’

The boy tugged at his sleeve. ‘Come on! It’ll be fun. You can be captain if you like.’

‘Gerraway with yer!’ The old man laughed out loud. ‘If I were half the size, I’d never fit in that little house. Not in a month o’ Sundays, I wouldn’t.’ He made a suggestion. ‘How about if yer show me the rest of the garden?’

Content in the old man’s company, Robbie showed him some old birds’ nests, now deserted, that he had discovered. ‘I like this garden,’ the boy confided as they sat together on the old rustic bench, ‘but I want to come home. I miss the sea.’ A sadness touched his voice. ‘Mummy says we might go back one day, but not yet.’

The old man’s heart was sore. ‘I’m sure yer mammy means to take yer back,’ he promised. ‘Else why would she keep the cottage, eh?’

The boy looked up, his eyes moist with tears but a smile on his face. ‘Yes, that’s right. Mummy told me we still have the cottage. Oh, Jasper, will she take me back? Will she?’

‘That’s summat for your mammy to decide, son.’ He had more sense than to raise the boy’s hopes too high.

Suddenly his heart lurched when the boy asked in all innocence, ‘Then, will Daddy come back?’

Liz’s call that the food was ready spared him from giving an answer. He clambered off the seat. ‘We’d best go,’ he said, feigning excitement. ‘We don’t want to miss that lovely lemon meringue pie, do we, eh?’ He was thankful when the boy readily agreed, seeming to forget for the minute that Jasper had not answered his question.

Liz had decided to set the table in the garden. ‘I thought you’d rather be outside,’ she said. She knew Jasper from old.

‘I don’t mind admitting that I’d rather be outside than in,’ he confessed. ‘I expect it comes of being an old sailor.’

The next few hours were some of the best in the old man’s life.

Liz had prepared a wonderful meal, all set out on a pink tablecloth. There were jugs of cold drinks, plates of crusty bread, and a delicious salad of ham, laid inside large lettuce leaves and surrounded by sliced tomatoes, thin rounds of apple and cucumber.

‘By, lass! This is grand.’ Tucking in, the old man enjoyed every mouth-watering morsel, and when later the lemon meringue pie arrived, it went down a treat. ‘Is that one o’ yer specialities?’ he asked, wiping the last crumb from his beard; she, proud of her cooking, promptly gave him another large helping.

After the meal was cleared away, they went for a walk in the park. ‘Me and Robbie stroll through here often,’ Liz explained. ‘The park belongs to the Duke of Bedford, but you’re allowed to go through, as long as you don’t stray too far from the path.’

The park was huge: a vast, impressive expanse of lake and shrubberies, overhung with huge, ancient rhododendrons that reached into the skies and filled the world with colour. On either side the parkland stretched away for miles, dotted here and there with herds of grazing deer, and in the far distance another shimmering lake danced in the evening sunlight.

‘This place can’t be all that different from heaven,’ Jasper declared with awe. ‘I ain’t never seen anything so lovely.’ Unless it was a boat in full sail across the ocean, he thought fondly.

‘LOOK AT THAT!’ Pointing to the large stag coming towards them, the boy was wide-eyed with wonder. ‘If we keep ever so still, it might come near, so we can touch it!’

The stag was magnificent: broad of chest, with large dark eyes and thick, strong antlers that could maim or kill in a fight. He kept his distance, wary, menacing. Then, while the three of them looked on in admiration, he turned gracefully, and ambled back to his herd. ‘Well, I never!’ The old man was entranced.

On leaving the park, Robbie had a suggestion. ‘Why don’t we go to the pub for a drink?’

Jasper laughed, but Liz explained. ‘There’s a pretty garden behind the Bull Inn. Sometimes me and Robbie go in for a leisurely drink before going home. If you’re thirsty, we could call in now?’

With a thirst on him like a sponge in the desert, Jasper didn’t need asking twice. ‘You’ve said the magic words,’ he chuckled. ‘Lead on.’

Woburn being a very old village, there were many little nooks and crannies, and old stone arches through which, once upon a time, carriages would make their way to the stables at the back. Now, though, it was people who sat beneath the arches, and the cobbled stableyards were pretty gardens, with tables and chairs and pinafored waitresses to fetch and carry for the thirsty visitors.

‘Two lemonades and a pint of beer, please.’ Liz gave the order, and when it arrived they sat back and enjoyed the moment, chatting and laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company.

Inevitably, and much to the old man’s concern, Liz and her son had many questions. The boy was mainly interested in the harbour and the boats and what Jasper himself had been up to, while Liz asked about the cottage, and its tenant.

‘He’s called Tom,’ Jasper imparted with a knowing smile. ‘A nice fella. Keeps himself to himself mostly, but we’ve become good friends.’ He laughed. ‘I even persuaded him into buying a sailing boat – smart little thing, it is – got many years o’ work in her yet, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘D’you think he’ll let me go on it?’ Robbie was so excited he could hardly sit still.

‘We’ll have to see, won’t we, eh?’

Liz was curious. ‘Is he married?’

The old man shook his head. ‘He’s come to West Bay, like so many of us, to escape whatever it is that haunts him.’ Beyond that he couldn’t say. ‘But I know you’d like him. He’s a fine, good man.’

‘And there’s no problem with the cottage or anything?’

‘Not that I can think of, no. I look after the maintenance, as always. He pays the rent and the money goes straight into the bank. The cottage is kept nice, just as you like it.’

‘So, everything is the same as when we left, is that what you’re saying?’

The old man swallowed hard. Though she had worded her question carefully for the boy’s sake, he had seen the beseeching look in her eyes. He knew what she was asking, and his old heart lurched.

Again, for the sake of the boy, and for Liz herself, he worded his answer equally carefully. ‘It’s more or less the same, lass.’

She gave him a curious glance, and for a minute he was afraid she had more probing questions. But the moment passed when the waitress arrived to ask if there was anything else they would like.

Liz shook her head and thanked her.

The old man insisted on paying the bill, and they were soon making their way back to the house. ‘It’s been a lovely day,’ Jasper told her. ‘I can understand why yer chose to settle in this beautiful place.’

Opening the door, Liz let them in. ‘We’re not “settled”, as you call it. We’re much like yourself, Jasper: in transit, always looking for the next port of call.’

‘I understand.’ He looked into her sorry face and read her thoughts. Knowing the time had come for her to learn the truth, he took her aside. ‘Later, when the boy’s in bed, we’ll need to talk, lass.’ There was no more hedging, no more wishing he didn’t have to tell her, because now there was no option. In fact, there never had been.

It was nine o’clock when the boy finally tumbled into bed. Weary and worn out by the day’s events, he threw his arms round the old man’s neck. ‘I love you, Jasper,’ he said, and Jasper was deeply moved. ‘I love you too, lad.’

Even before he got to the door, the boy was soundly sleeping. ‘Goodnight, son.’ Quietly closing the door, he went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Liz was waiting at the table, with two mugs of cocoa and a look on her face that betrayed her anxiety. ‘Come and sit down.’ Gesturing to the chair opposite, she reminded him, ‘Like you say … we need to talk.’

‘Aye, lass.’ Seating himself, he sighed heavily, his old heart pained by what he must tell her.

Sensing his dilemma, she anticipated his news. ‘It’s Robert, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, lass. It’s Robert.’ He had to swallow the hard lump in his throat or it would have choked him.

Her eyes lit up. ‘Oh, Jasper! Is he back?’

Again, he had to swallow hard. ‘No, lass. He’s not back. But there is summat yer should know.’

A look of apprehension crossed her kindly features. ‘What is it, Jasper? Have you heard from him, is that it?’

He shook his head. He had to get it over with, however painful it might be. ‘I’m sorry, lass, but I’m afraid Robert is dead.’

Liz blanched, and tears filled her eyes. ‘How do you know?’ she asked shakily.

The old man took a deep breath before going on. ‘A young lady turned up, and what she told me is what I’ve come to tell you now.’

‘What young lady? Who is she?’

‘Her name’s Kathy.’ He paused a moment, not wanting to shock her further, but seeing no other way. ‘She’s Robert’s daughter.’

Pressing her hand to her mouth, Liz stared at him for a minute, her eyes wide with astonishment. ‘I never knew he had a daughter.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘He never talked to me about his life outside of West Bay and I never asked. I was always afraid that, if I pushed him too far, he’d leave and I would never see him again.’ Her regrets were many, but meeting Robert and sharing part of his life was not one of them. ‘Please tell me. What happened to Robert?’ Though filled with a sense of dread, she urged in a small voice, ‘It’s all right, Jasper. Say what you’ve come to say.’

Reaching out to cover her hand with his own, the old man related in the gentlest manner he could what Kathy had told him: about how her father had passed on, and how Barden House belonged to her. He explained how she had come there to see where she imagined her father had spent some of the happiest times of his life. And, oh, how she had loved him, and how desperately she missed him still.

And as he talked, Liz quietly wept, looking up now and then with scarred eyes and an aching heart, urging him on.

He described what a delightful young woman Robert’s daughter was, and how he had told her about Liz and her father, and how wonderfully happy they had been. Jasper told Liz that he had explained to Kathy that, when Robert didn’t come back, Liz had begun to believe he didn’t care for her or his son any more, and it was a burden she could no longer carry. So she had moved away.

When finally the old man was silent, he felt her hand in his, holding on as if she would drown if he were to let go. His heart went out to her. ‘I’m sorry, lass,’ he murmured. ‘I’d have given anything not to be the bearer of such terrible news.’

Through eyes swimming with tears she looked up. ‘I didn’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I thought he didn’t want us any more.’ Her voice broke. ‘I should have known better! Oh, Jasper, I should have known better!’

When at last her composure broke and she dropped her head to her hands, sobbing as if her heart would break, the old man went to her. Folding his arms round her, he let her cry, much as he had let Kathy cry that day when she talked of her father. And, when the crying was done, he made them each a cup of tea and they sat together, talking about Robert, and how his son would take the news. ‘It’ll be a terrible blow to the lad.’

Liz promised that Robbie would cope. ‘He’s like his father. He has a way of dealing with things,’ she said. ‘And what about you, Jasper? This can’t have been easy … having to bring me such news.’

‘You had to know,’ he answered. ‘And who better to tell you than me?’

She gave a tiny smile. ‘You know, Jasper, in a peculiar, roundabout way it’s a blessing. You see, I know now that he did love us, more than ever.’ She bowed her head. ‘I only wish he’d told me, so I could have looked after him.’

Jasper chided her for punishing herself like that. ‘It was his wish that you should not see him the way he was. I can imagine he didn’t want to put you through all that pain.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I can see how he would do something like that,’ she agreed. ‘All the same, I wish I could have been there to comfort him.’

They talked a while longer, and when the mantelpiece clock struck midnight, they went their separate ways. ‘Goodnight, Jasper, and thank you.’ At the top of the landing she gave him a hug. ‘It’s Robbie we have to think about now.’

Weary of heart but glad it was over, the old man threw off his clothes and, putting on his striped pyjamas, climbed into bed. Within minutes he was sound asleep, though his dreams were disturbing.

He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or two when he was woken by a strange sound which at first he couldn’t quite make out.

Then he realised. The sounds were coming from an adjoining bedroom. He recognised the muffled ‘thump thump’ of pacing feet, and the quiet, heart-wrenching sobs. ‘Oh, dearie me!’ He knew it was Liz, and he blamed himself. ‘What have I done?’

Getting out of bed, he sat by the window, listening and hurting, and helpless to do anything that might ease her sorrow.

After what seemed an age the sounds died away – first the pacing, then the sobbing. When silence fell over the house, the old man wasn’t sure whether the sound of her grief wasn’t preferable to that awful, crippling quiet. After a minute or two, he was tempted to knock on her door to see if she was all right. But then he heard the soft patter of her feet against the lino floor, then the window being thrust up on its pulley. And now the same quiet patter of feet as she returned to her bed.

Not long after Maggie’s arrival, Kathy had taken her friend out and headed straight for the fish and chip shop. Afterwards, they sat by the harbour and enjoyed what Maggie described as ‘the best bleedin’ fish an’ chips I’ve ever tasted, gal!’

They walked along the shoreline and sat in the sand, talking and reminiscing, and wanting the day to go on for ever. When it began to grow dusk, they made their way to the bar at the caravan site, and Maggie said she ‘wouldn’t mind one day getting a job here’.

Taking their drinks outside to a table, they watched the sun go down, and Maggie eyed every young man that passed. ‘I could go for that one!’ she whispered, or, ‘Oh, no! I couldn’t fancy that one in a million years!’ and Kathy thought it was just wonderful to have Maggie here by her side, though, with her high heels, wild hair and outlandish clothes, Maggie stood out a mile. But that didn’t matter. It was Maggie, and Maggie was a one-off, something special.

They were sitting companionably together enjoying a second drink when suddenly Tom turned up to join them. From the start, and with a twinkle in her eye, Maggie obviously approved.

The three of them sat and chatted and Maggie made them all laugh, and later, when Maggie said she was ready for her bed, Tom gave her a peck on the cheek and for a while she was unusually quiet.

Kathy and Maggie made their way back to the house, and once or twice Maggie saw Kathy turn to smile at Tom as he strode away, and he, too, had eyes only for her.

‘You’ve found a good ’un there, gal!’ she told Kathy as they entered the house. ‘Hang onto him. Men like him are few and far between.’

Kathy understood. ‘I will,’ she said, and meant it.

‘Cor! It’s been an ’ell of a day!’ Maggie said, falling into the nearest chair. ‘I don’t mind tellin’ yer, gal, I’m whacked!’ Looking sheepish, she asked, ‘Would you think me a selfish bugger if I went off to bed?’

Kathy assured her she would think no such thing, and Maggie followed her up the stairs to her bed. ‘Thanks, gal,’ she said, giving her a crushing bear hug. ‘I’m glad I came.’

‘So am I,’ Kathy told her, and quietly closed the door.

Not long after, Kathy went to bed. For a while she lay there, thinking of Maggie and the fun they’d had. And Tom too. Never a night went by when she didn’t go to sleep thinking of him.

Finally she dropped off, content and happy.

Lying there, wondering how the boy would cope when he was told about his father, Jasper closed his eyes time and again, but there was no sleep in him. He heard the downstairs mantel-clock strike every hour between two and five, before he finally sank into the pillow and succumbed to the weariness which suddenly lapped over him.

When morning came and the watery sun filtered in through his window, he woke with a start. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was already eight o’clock.

‘Good God! I’ve never slept so late in all me life!’ Springing out of bed with as much enthusiasm as his old bones would allow, he quickly washed and dressed and made his way downstairs.

Liz and the boy were already in the kitchen. ‘Sit yourself down, Jasper,’ Liz told him. ‘I’m cooking porridge … how does that sound?’ Turning from the gas-stove, she smiled on him.

‘Aye, lass, that sounds like a right treat.’ He was shocked to see the dark hollows beneath her eyes, and the pale, pinched features, suggesting that – like him – she had spent most of the night lying awake.

Blissfully oblivious to the tension in that tiny room, young Robbie chatted away, excited about an idea he’d dreamt up to entertain the old man before he set off back to West Bay. ‘We can go and see the barges if you like?’

Just then, Liz brought their breakfasts to the table. ‘Not today, Robbie,’ she said cautiously. ‘I think Jasper would prefer to stay round the cottage for today.’ Recruiting the old man’s support, she asked with a smile, ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Jasper? You’d rather stay round the cottage, at least for a while?’

‘Aye, lass, that’s right enough.’ Addressing the boy, he said with a cheeky grin, ‘I bet you that pigeon’s out there, looking for a bite o’ that juicy apple.’

The boy’s eyes shone. ‘Will it?’

‘I’m sure of it, lad. We’d best have us breakfast, then we’ll sit outside, shall we, and keep a lookout?’

They ate their breakfast and while Liz and the old man sat quiet and thoughtful, the boy chattered on.

When breakfast was over, Liz suggested the boy should go and see if the pigeon was there, while she and Jasper had a little chat.

As the boy sped out the door, she turned to Jasper. ‘I don’t know how to tell him.’ Dropping into the nearest chair, she rubbed the palm of her hand over her eyes. ‘Never a day goes by without him asking after his father. He’s been so good, asking so many questions, and never getting any real answers, and now … oh, Jasper! How do I tell him his father is never coming back?’

The old man knew how hard she must be finding it all. ‘Look, would yer like me to tell the lad?’

She shook her head. ‘Oh, no! I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s my place. I can’t shirk that responsibility.’ Getting out of her chair, she kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thanks all the same.’ Looking out of the window, she saw the boy climbing out of his play-house to shin down the tree-trunk. ‘He’s a treasure,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without him.’ She looked appealingly at the old man, her voice quivering. ‘Will he ever forgive me, do you think?’

‘Oh, he’ll forgive you all right.’ The old man had few doubts about that. ‘The lad loves yer, and besides, he’ll know it weren’t your fault, any more than it were his.’ Jasper paused. ‘Do folks round here ask … about his father?’

Liz looked down at her left hand, which was bare. She touched her finger and looked back at the old man. ‘I did worry, after we left West Bay. People there were kind to us, tolerant. They never mentioned the fact that Robert and I weren’t married – and it never seemed to matter.’ She sighed. ‘But I knew that in the real world it would be harder. I tell people I’m separated. But now I suppose I should say I’m widowed.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

Jasper awkwardly rose to his feet and patted her shoulder. ‘There, there.’

‘I suppose a part of me always knew, deep down, that Robert was married. All he ever said to me was that he wished he could marry me. But I didn’t care. And neither did anyone else at the time. As long as it isn’t hard for Robbie.’

‘You just tell them whatever you like, lass, whatever makes life better for the pair of yer.’

Liz straightened her shoulders. ‘Will you be there when I tell him … please?’

‘Whatever yer want, lass.’

‘Then let’s get it over with.’

Liz led the way into the garden. While the old man made for the seat, Liz called her son across. ‘Robbie … sweetheart! Can you come here a minute? I’ve got something to tell you.’

Bounding across the garden, Robbie arrived breathless before them. ‘What?’

Patting the seat beside her, she slid an arm round his shoulders. ‘It’s about your daddy.’

‘Oh!’ He began leaping about. ‘He’s coming home! Is he, Mummy?’

When it seemed Liz might lose her composure, the old man’s sober voice cut through the boy’s excitement. ‘Sit down, son. Let your mammy finish.’

Astonished, Robbie looked from one to the other, realisation dawning. ‘No!’ Backing up, he stared at his mother. ‘He’s not coming back, is he? That’s what you want to tell me, isn’t it?’ His voice rose to a crescendo. ‘DADDY DOESN’T WANT US! AND NOW HE’S NEVER COMING BACK!’ Taking to his heels, he ran for the tree-house. ‘I hate him. I HATE HIM!’

Going after him at a run, Liz called up to where he’d hidden himself in the furthest corner of the tree-house. ‘Please, Robbie, come down. It isn’t like that.’

‘Tell me the truth. Is he coming back?’

‘No, sweetheart. I’m sorry …’

‘GO AWAY!’ In a sudden rage he ran across the floor. Flinging the hatch cover over the opening, he threw himself on top of it; the sounds of his crying tore at both their hearts.

‘Come away, lass.’ When Liz too began softly crying, the old man tenderly moved her aside. ‘Let me talk to him, eh?’

Unable to speak, Liz nodded.

‘Robbie, lad.’ Going steadily up the ladder that rested precariously against the tree-trunk, Jasper made his way up. ‘Oh, be careful!’ Liz was fearful that the ladder might fall and he would be injured.

‘Don’t you worry, lass,’ he called back. ‘I’ve climbed too many masts in my time to be worried about a rickety old ladder.’ All the same, when he heard the trap-door shift back an inch or so, he smiled to himself. It told him the boy was concerned about his safety, too.

Almost to the top, he decided to try the old trick of distracting the boy’s attention. But first he winked at Liz, so she would know he was up to some trick or other. ‘Oh!’ In a loud voice he called out, as if to Liz, ‘I nearly went there, lass. By! If I fall off this ladder, I’m likely to break me back!’

‘You get off my ladder!’ Robbie’s voice sailed down to him. ‘I don’t want you up here. GET DOWN!’

The old man secretly chuckled. ‘You invited me to your play-house, and now I’m tekkin’ you up on it.’

There followed a banter between the two of them, with the boy urging him to get off his ladder, and the old man insisting that he had every right to be there, and, ‘What’s more I’m coming inside, so you’d best open that trap-door, else I probably will fall and break me neck!’ And for effect he yelled out, ‘Oh, my God! I nearly went then. Watch out, lass … stay back in case I tumble.’

Suddenly the trap-door opened and there was Robbie peering out, his face stained with tears and his eyes red-raw. ‘You can’t get inside here,’ he warned. ‘You’re too fat.’

‘FAT!’ Feigning indignation, the old man edged his way up towards the opening. ‘Move aside, lad. I’ll show yer whether I’m “fat” or not, yer cheeky young rascal!’

Much to his own surprise, and not without trepidation, the old man managed to squeeze his bulk in through the opening. ‘There y’are!’ Reaching his gaze into the furthest corner where the boy was sitting, he softly chuckled. ‘You’d best not call me “fat” again, ’cause I got through the door, and now I’m coming over there.’

Seeming little more than a shadow, the boy began to cry. ‘Leave me alone, Jasper.’

‘I can’t do that, son.’ Carefully, on all fours, he made his way across the floor. ‘I can’t have you crying and not do owt about it.’

When he reached the boy he took him into his arms. There they sat – the two of them – an odd sight in that tiny, cramped corner. With the boy’s head on his shoulder, the old man told him in as kind a way as possible why his father had left them. ‘It weren’t his fault. Y’see, son, he never wanted to leave you, only he got poorly, and went away so you and yer mammy wouldn’t see him hurting. Then, he just never got better.’

With big, wet eyes and the sob still in his voice, the boy looked up. ‘I was poorly once, when I had chickenpox.’

The old man nodded. ‘I remember.’

‘Daddy looked after me too. He told me stories and made me laugh, and he never sent me away, did he?’

‘No, son, he didn’t.’

‘So, why did he go away? Why didn’t he stay and let us look after him, like he looked after me?’

‘Because sometimes it’s hard to know what to do for the best. Y’see, when a man gets ill, he begins to wonder about all manner o’ things. And when it comes down to it, the only thing he’s worried about is his family … them that he loves.’

‘Do you think he loved me and Mummy?’

‘Oh, son!’ He pressed his arm tight about the boy. ‘He loved you more than anything in this whole wide world. He told me that once … he said as how if he hadn’t got you and your mammy, life wouldn’t be worth living. You made him very happy, lad. You and yer mammy were very precious to him. Whatever else yer believe, yer must allus believe that.’

‘When somebody doesn’t get better, they go to heaven, don’t they?’

‘Aye, lad, if they’ve been good, that’s where they go all right.’

‘Daddy was ‘good’, wasn’t he?’

‘I’d say so, yes, lad.’

‘Jasper?’

‘Yes, lad?’

‘What does heaven look like?’

The old man couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘I can’t say as I’ve ever been there, and I reckon I’m not ready to go yet, but, well, I’d say as it looks summat like this pretty garden … with flowers and birds, and all kinda lovely smells an’ colours.’

The boy was quiet for a time; the sobs subsided and he drew away. ‘I want my mummy now.’

Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes. ‘’Course yer do, lad.’

Sighing to his boots, he shifted round to let the boy go first. ‘Can’t say as I’ll be sorry to get down,’ he confessed. ‘You were right, lad, I am too fat to be up here!’ In truth the bones of his backside were aching and his back felt like it had been twisted off its axle. ‘Go on, lad, I’m right behind yer.’

Getting out proved more arduous than getting in.

Again, not being able to stand up in there, the old man carefully backed up towards the trap-door. Once there, he put his legs through, then his backside, and bit by bit, with great difficulty, he managed to emerge; then it was a trial negotiating the ladder, as it wobbled and creaked with his every step. ‘I can see next time I come and visit I shall ’ave to mek you a stronger ladder!’

Afraid Jasper might get hurt, Robbie watched until he was safely down.

With a great sigh of relief, the old man dropped to the ground. ‘By! Never again!’ He was all hot and bothered, his face as red as a beetroot and every bone in his old body shrieking out.

He watched the boy run to his mother, who had been anxiously waiting. As he ran into her arms, she closed her love about him, and together they walked into the house.

Realising their need to be alone, the old man didn’t follow for a while. Instead he sat on the bench, recovering from his own ordeal.

From behind him, the sound of the boy sobbing, and Liz’s gentle reassurance, even though her own heart was breaking, was something the old man would remember for the rest of his life.

Some time later, Liz came out to bring him inside. ‘Thank you, Jasper,’ she said. ‘You’ve been a real friend to both of us.’

When they came into the kitchen, Jasper asked after the boy. ‘Will he be all right, d’yer think?’

She led him into the sitting room. ‘He’s more settled now, thanks to you.’

The old man was choked to see how the boy was fast asleep on the sofa. ‘It were a hard thing for him to find out,’ he said as Liz quietly closed the door. ‘Look, lass, I’m sorry I had to bring such awful news.’

‘In a way, I’m glad you did,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve answered so many of my questions. Robbie’s, too, though it’s all a bit too much for him right now.’

He understood what she meant. When he first set foot in this pretty place, there was an air of confusion and doubt, and a sense of deep unhappiness. Now it was as if the curtain of doubt and confusion had lifted. And yes, there was still unhappiness, but it would pass in the fullness of time; he knew that from experience.

‘Will you stay a few more days, Jasper?’

‘If you want me to, lass.’

‘We both want you to.’

‘Aye, well’ – he gave her a wink – ‘it’ll give me time to build a new ladder. That one’s falling apart at the seams.’

She threw her arms round him. ‘Thank you.’

That was all she said.

But it was enough.