Читать книгу Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 2: The Loner, Born Bad, Three Letters - Josephine Cox - Страница 15

SETTLING DOWN IN the barn, Davie thought he had caught a glimpse of someone at the window. He wondered if it might be Judy, but he daren’t draw her attention. If he was discovered here, he knew how Tom would want to return him to his grandad, when all he needed was to hide in a quiet place where he could be left alone to think things through.

At first he had thought that maybe he might go and see Tom and thank him for what he had done. But then, as he got closer to the farm, he decided against it. Sometimes, when a kindness was so big between two people who understood each other, saying thanks was far too small and insignificant.

After searching around, he found the old Tilly lamp hanging above the window; another search in the semi-darkness revealed a box of matches hidden on the shelf alongside. Aware that the light might be seen from the house, he took the lamp and the matches, then from a safe corner, he lit the lamp, keeping the flame low and shielded, while he made himself a bed in the hay.

‘Don’t you worry.’ Peeping over the stable door, the old shire horse had been watching him with big curious eyes. ‘I’m not moving in on you.’ Davie stroked its long mane. ‘I just need somewhere to bed down for the night. I need to think, and plan. I have to know where I’m going from here.’ His voice and spirit dropped. ‘I feel hopelessly lost,’ he confided. ‘I miss my grandad, and I need to be near Judy and her family. But if I stayed I might hear bad talk about my mam, and I wouldn’t like that at all.’

At the thought of his mother being slandered, a wave of anger rushed through him. ‘I know she did bad things, and I know she caused a lot of unhappiness for the family, but if I hear anybody calling her names, I swear I’ll kill ’em!’ Tears filled his eyes. ‘I’ll never know why she did those terrible things … shamin’ us an’ all. But I don’t think she meant to hurt us. I don’t think she could help herself.’

Gulping back the tears, he quickly composed himself. ‘I need to look for my dad.’ He gave a great heave of a sigh. ‘But where do I start?’ he asked the wide-eyed creature. ‘And if I was to find him, would he thank me for it?’

Deep down he desperately needed to locate his father and be reassured. At the same time he believed his father would rather be left to find his own way through what had been a difficult time for all of them, added to which, Davie was reluctant to burden his father with the knowledge of the terrible sequence of events following his sad departure.

Because of the angry, wounding words born out of despair, Davie was sensible enough to realise that it would take time and distance for everyone to reflect on what was said and done. He could not know how long that would take, or whether things would ever be better for this unfortunate family. But one thing he did know now, and he voiced it in a whisper. ‘No! I can’t go after my dad, and I won’t go back. Like it or not, I’m on my own.’

Sighing deeply, he leaned his head on the railing. ‘I’ll need to be away first light,’ he muttered, ‘I’m not sure which direction to take or where I’m headed, or what I’ll do when I get there. All I know is I can’t stay round these parts any longer.’

Worn by recent events and the crippling loss of his parents, he felt the tiredness laying heavy on him. But try as he might, he couldn’t sleep. He shifted, and turned, fretting about the whereabouts of his father, and agonising over his grandad, knowing that he, too, must be feeling the pain of losing his family in such a devastating way. But what about me, Davie mused. Should he leave as planned and never come back? What should he do? Which way should he go? Sleep was elusive. The nightmare was real. Tormented and unsure, and so weary he could hardly breathe, he finally drifted into a shallow, troubled sleep.

The touch of a hand startled him awake. And when he instinctively clenched his fist to lash out, she closed her small hand around his fingers. ‘I knew you were here,’ she whispered. ‘I went to sleep thinking it might have been you I saw running across the yard.’

‘Judy!’ In the soft glow from the lamp, he saw her face and was reassured. He smiled up at her. ‘You gave me a fright. I thought I was being attacked. I was just about to tackle you.’

Judy’s voice was soft as gossamer. ‘I’m sorry, Davie. I didn’t mean to scare you.’

Somewhat refreshed by the two hours or more that he’d slept, Davie was thrilled to see her. ‘Your parents … still asleep, are they?’

She laughed. ‘I could hear Daddy snoring as I came out.’

‘That’s good. I don’t want them to find me.’ Quickly, he tucked his shirt into his trousers and scrambling to his feet, he took her by the shoulders and drew her up to face him. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he told her. ‘I thought I saw you at the bedroom window but I wasn’t sure whether you saw me. I daren’t come too near the house in case your mam or dad saw me … I was afraid if they did, they might take me back to Grandad.’ His voice fell. ‘Did you know he told me to get out and never come back.’

Judy assured him, ‘Your grandad is sorry that he threw you out. He wants to make amends.’

Davie was relieved at that. ‘I’m glad,’ he answered, ‘but I can’t go back yet, maybe never. What he did – well, it made me think.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What I mean is, it made me realise how hard it must have been for him since we moved back in. All this time he’s had more than enough to deal with, and he’s been good to all of us, but now he deserves time to himself.’ The boy felt somehow responsible, because of what his mother had done to the family. ‘It’s best if I were to get away from these parts altogether. Make a life for myself somewhere else.’

Yet, even now he wasn’t sure if he could make it happen, or even if he was doing the right thing.

Sensing the doubt in his voice, Judy hoped she might change his mind. ‘Your grandad was upset, Davie. The police had been and everything.’

Davie hung his head. ‘So, you know what happened to my mam?’

‘Yes, Davie, I know.’ He was holding her two hands in his, and the warm, deep down pleasure was like nothing she had ever known.

‘Did you know she came home drunk, there was a terrible row and my dad walked out?’ The memory of it all was like a knife in his heart.

Judy nodded, ‘He told us everything.’

Davie was silent for a minute. Letting go of her hands, he walked to where the horse was peering at them. He nuzzled his face against the animal’s head, then, turning to Judy, he asked, ‘Was Grandad told about what happened in the woods … with my mam?’

‘Yes, Davie, he was told.’

‘And is he all right, I mean … do you think I should go back?’

‘That’s up to you, Davie. You have to do what you think is right.’

He gave it a moment’s thought, ‘How is he?’

‘He was in a poor state when we got there, but after a while, he seemed to be taking it well enough, I think. The neighbours had been in, and the woman next door is going to look in every now and then.’

‘Is she … safe … my mam?’ A great sadness welled up in him.

‘Yes.’ The girl tried to recall what her father had said. ‘Daddy took her to the Infirmary, and they looked after her.’

Davie nodded his head. ‘And Grandad?’ Almost unconsciously he dropped himself onto a haybale. ‘Will he be all right, do you think?’

Judy sat herself beside him, and slipping her hand into his, she told him honestly, ‘He wants you home, Davie. He’s really worried about you.’

When Davie remained silent, so did Judy. She didn’t know what else to say, and she didn’t know how to ease his pain. ‘I’m sure he’ll be all right, Davie. Like you say, he’s been through a lot, and maybe you’re right. May be he does need some time to himself.’ Another thought reluctantly crossed her mind. ‘Maybe you do too?’

‘Right from when I was little, I thought my parents would split up one day.’ He kept his gaze down, so she wouldn’t see the tears clouding his eyes. ‘When Mam came home drunk in the early hours and Dad was waiting for her, they’d argue and he would always threaten to leave, but she always won him round in the end.’ He gave a painful little smile. ‘But not this time, eh?’

For a long moment he was silent, thinking about the past, wondering where his parents were at that moment; one gone away because he found it impossible to stay any longer, and the other gone to …? When he was small and somebody died, they always told him that the person had gone to Heaven. Is that where she was … in Heaven? But she’d been bad, and they said nobody went to Heaven if they were bad …

‘Davie?’ Judy’s voice broke through his thoughts. ‘Davie, look at me.’

Raising his gaze, he looked at her.

‘Your mammy’s safe now. You do believe that … don’t you?’

He nodded, bowed his head and thought about his mother, how pretty she once was, and how full of life. He recalled the times she made him laugh; the many occasions when she playfully chased him round the table, pretending to be the wicked witch, and other times, quieter and deeper, when she would tell him how she and his daddy truly believed that one day he would be a man to make them all proud.

‘Davie?’

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with sadness.

‘You’re so quiet. What are you thinking?’

Not trusting himself to speak, he shrugged his shoulders, then when he did eventually answer, his voice was choked with emotion. ‘It’s all gone,’ he murmured brokenly. ‘My family, all the things I know … all gone. How can anything ever be the same again.’ For the first time, the emotions tore through, and the tears broke away and now there was no controlling them.

Without a word, Judy wrapped her arms round him, and he clung to her, and after a while, when the sobbing was spent, and he drew away, she told him, ‘You must try and get some sleep, Davie.’ It was only then that she realised. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’

He shook his head.

‘Stay here.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

As she turned to leave, he suggested, ‘I won’t go back to Grandad. But I could write a note, if you wouldn’t mind taking it to him?’

Judy readily agreed. She liked the idea. At least this way, he wouldn’t go away without making contact.

He watched her run across the yard. She looked so small and vulnerable in the fading moonlight; like his life he thought, like his whole world. But Judy was strong, and she was still here, still caring. And, as always, he considered himself fortunate in having such a good and loyal friend.

It wasn’t too long before she was back. ‘I brought you these.’ Setting down the tray she pointed out the cheese and ham sandwiches, and the array of fresh fruit. ‘For you to take with you,’ she said. ‘In case it’s a while before your next meal.’ She dug into her skirt pocket and bringing out a package, she told him, ‘There’s a pen and paper, and some stamps.’ A shyness marbled her voice. ‘So now there’s no excuse. You can write and always tell me where you are and what you’re doing.’

‘I will, Judy. I’ll write to you from wherever I am, I promise.’ Cradling her face in his hands, he bent and kissed her on the forehead. ‘You’re special to me, do you know that?’

She was grateful that he did not see her blush bright pink. ‘Eat up,’ she said. ‘And then you’d best get some rest.’

Together they sat and talked some more while he wolfed down the snack and drank the milk. Afterwards, he urged her to go back to her own bed.

‘If I do, you won’t sneak away before I wake, will you?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘It all depends on what time you get up, lazy bones. I’ll need to be away before your dad comes out.’

The girl was adamant. ‘I’ll be back long before that,’ she said. ‘Just don’t go without seeing me.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise.’

When she suddenly threw her arms round him and kissed him full on the mouth, he was taken aback. ‘What was that for?’

‘I don’t know. Because I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too,’ he answered with sincerity. ‘Nobody could ever have a better friend than you.’ He looked into her eyes and thought how pretty they were. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’ll do without you.’

‘Don’t go, Davie.’ She seized the moment. ‘Please stay. Daddy will give you work and he’ll pay you well. We have a spare bedroom, and you’ll be able to visit your grandad whenever you like.’

For one tempting moment, Davie considered the idea. Familiarity. Safety. And friendship. The answer to all his problems. Living with the Makepeaces would be wonderful. But then he shook his head and said, ‘No.’ He knew it was not the answer. A clean break, a new life, and being responsible for his own actions, that was what he must aim for. ‘I need to prove myself,’ he explained. ‘I know it’s the right thing to do.’

‘How can it be right? Where will you go? How will you manage?’ When her tears fell, he wiped them away with the tip of his finger. ‘If you go now, you won’t ever come back.’

‘I won’t be gone forever,’ he answered. ‘And anyway, I’ve already said that I’ll write to you, and every day I’ll think of you.’

‘Will you, Davie? Every day? Will you really?’ Her smile brightened his world.

He laughed. ‘I will, yes! Every single day.’

‘And what will you think, Davie?’

‘What will I think?’ He wound his two arms round her and taking her to himself, he told her earnestly, ‘I’ll think of what you might be doing, and then I’ll picture you everywhere we’ve been together … climbing the oak tree down by the river or swimming in the canal, and I’ll see you about the farm, cradling the newborn lambs in your arms and teasing the ferret out of its cage.’

Holding her away from him, he smiled down on her. ‘More than anything, I’ll always wonder how somebody like me ever deserved a wonderful friend like you.’

Judy had been thrilled to hear him say how he would always see her in his mind’s eye. But when he called her his ‘wonderful friend’, it was as though her bubble of joy was cruelly burst. ‘Is that what I am to you, Davie?’ she asked tremulously. ‘A friend?’

He nodded. ‘The best friend of all,’ he answered sincerely. ‘If I was to travel the world, I would never find a better friend than you, Judy.’

She hid her disappointment. She wanted to be much more than a friend to Davie. In fact, although he didn’t know it, and she was only just becoming aware of it, Judy Makepeace had already given her tender young heart to Davie Adams. There was as much pain and confusion in this secret giving, as there was pleasure.

‘You’ll need to be warm,’ she told him hurriedly. ‘It gets really cold in the barn at night.’ Going to the hook on the wall, she took down a blanket and handed it to him. ‘It smells a bit horsey, but he’s only had it on his back the once … he doesn’t like wearing blankets.’

Davie took it. ‘Thanks. Now you go back to the house … go on. I’ll be fine.’

A moment later, as she was leaving, Judy whispered, ‘Get some sleep, Davie. And don’t worry – I’ll be back before my parents wake.’

She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to lie down beside him and feel his strong arms round her. Her feelings were all mixed up. She loved him for being here – but was angry with him for leaving her; most of all, she was saddened by the idea of waking up and finding him gone, and knowing she might never see him again.

Then she remembered his promise to write and to think of her, and her heart was warmed.

She got as far as the house when she wondered whether he was asleep yet. If he was intending to go right away to find work and somewhere to live, he might have to travel miles before he was settled. He needed his sleep. Oh, but what if he woke up, feeling sad and panicky, and she wasn’t there? Or what if her father went down to the barn at first light, as he sometimes did if he thought the fox was about, and Davie heard him coming and sneaked away – and she wasn’t there to say goodbye? A sob rose in her throat, along with a terrible premonition of loss. The idea haunted her.

Quickly now, she ran back, and creeping into the barn, she called his name. ‘Davie?’ The lamp was out; there was no answer. She went on, deeper into the barn to where they had sat together, and in the glimmer of starlight through the window she saw him, snuggled deep into the blanket, fast asleep. For a moment she watched him, as she dried her eyes.

Carefully, she got to her knees and lifting the corner of the blanket, she slid in beside him. For a moment she just lay there, not daring to touch him for fear that he might wake. Instead, she looked at his sleeping face, and a tide of contentment washed over her. She took that moment to cherish him, and then she was pushing towards him, bathing in the warmth of his body, nervous that he might wake and send her away.

He didn’t wake. Instead, in his slumbers, he must have sensed her there for he turned towards her and took her into his arms, and that’s how the two young people lay, until fingers of dawn crept through the darkness.

Davie was the first to wake. And when he found himself holding her, he was shocked to the core. ‘Judy, what are you doing here? How long have you been here … Judy?’ She stirred, stretched her arms, but didn’t wake.

Davie smiled. She was a funny little thing, he thought, his soft gaze sweeping her pretty face. She probably thought he would sneak off into the night the minute her back was turned. So she had come back … and he never even knew.

He looked at her a moment longer, at that small cute face and the long brown hair that teased over her shoulder; raising his hand, he moved a stray strand from her forehead. My lovely little Judy he thought affectionately. I’ll miss you so much.

He would miss everything, he thought – his parents and his grandfather, the sparsely furnished bedroom that on and off, had been his only real home these past few years, and the people of Derwent Street, with their familiar faces and cheery greetings.

He would miss weekends helping Tom and Judy on the milk-cart, and he would miss the long meandering walks through the local fields and woods. He would miss the joy of swimming in the canal in the heat of a summer’s afternoon, and the all too rare visits into Blackburn Town, where he and his schoolfriends had wandered for hours amongst the brightly coloured market-stalls, clutching their saved-up pocket-money. His mam would never dig into her handbag again, he thought in sorrow, and fish out a threepenny bit from her purse, or, if he was lucky, a whole shilling. She’d give him a kiss to go with it, and a peppermint cream or a Spangle. His mam’s handbag, full of bus-tickets, lipstick and tweezers and a packet of Park Drive, had such a lovely smell … For a moment, the boy was lost in memories.

Then his thoughts returned to the road ahead. Most of all, he would miss Judy, for she had not only been a friend to whom he could turn at any time, with her kind, warm nature she was also the loving, caring sister he had never had.

He spent another moment gazing at her, remembering, before reluctantly slipping out of the blanket, covering her over to keep out the cold, and finding the pen and paper she had brought him. He struck a match and lit the lamp low, and in its soft halo of light he began to write the promised letter.

Dear Grandad,

I’m going away now, and I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t belong in Blackburn any more, not after what’s happened. I don’t know where I belong – all I know is that I’ve got to get away. Please don’t worry about me. Just look after yourself, and be strong. When I’m settled, I’ll write to you.

I don’t blame you for throwing us out. Mam had caused you so much trouble, and I know you were at the end of your tether. But she’s gone now, and may God rest her soul. I shall pray for her every night. Will you tell her that, Grandad, when you visit her grave? I shall never forget her, never stop loving her. Will miss her forever.

If you hear from Dad, will you please let him know there are no hard feelings, and I hope we’ll meet again someday. I shall be searching for him, every chance I get.

I love you, Grandad, but it’s time you had your home back, and some peace and quiet. I want to find my way in the world. I’m nearly fourteen, and I don’t really know what I want to do. I’m afraid, and I’m excited. There are so many things I need to find out, and new places I want to go.

I’m nearly a man now. And I need to prove I can do it all by myself.

So, take care of yourself, Grandad, and please keep an eye out for Judy. She has been my friend all of my life, and she’s very precious.

Give me your blessing, Grandad. I give you mine.

Your grandson, Davie

A tear fell from his sore eyes. Folding the paper into itself, he knelt beside Judy. ‘I’ve written the letter,’ he told her. Touching her gently on the shoulder, he raised his voice. ‘I have to go.’ Still no response. She was spark out! Laughing now, he gave her a little shake. ‘Hey! Lazybones, wakey wakey!’

‘Mmm?’ Sleepily opening her eyes, the girl saw him there and all her memories came tumbling back. She began to scramble out of the blanket. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ She looked out of the window. ‘Oh no! It’s morning.’

‘JUDY!’ Beth’s raised voice struck fear into their hearts. ‘Where the divil are you?’

Hurrying to the barn door, Davie peered out through the cracks. ‘It’s your mam,’ he told Judy. ‘I’d best go.’ Running back to where she was brushing the horse-hairs from her skirt, he took her by the shoulders. ‘It’s time to say goodbye.’ He handed her the letter. ‘You will see that Grandad gets this, won’t you?’

‘You know I will.’

He gazed at her, feeling lonelier than he had ever felt. ‘Thanks for everything, Jude.’

‘Where the dickens is that girl?’ Beth’s voice was even closer now.

The boy turned and would have kissed her on the forehead, but suddenly Judy was kissing him, full on the mouth and with her arms round his neck. It was a fleeting kiss, but it spoke volumes.

‘I’ll write,’ Davie said, as he clambered out of the window.

‘Promise?’

His promise was the smile he gave her. And then he was gone.