Читать книгу Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 2: The Loner, Born Bad, Three Letters - Josephine Cox - Страница 17

THROUGHOUT THE WEEK following Davie’s disappearance, news of his mother’s untimely demise spread far and wide. ‘That silly tart got what she deserved,’ some declared callously. Others shook their head and found a degree of compassion for a life lost, and other lives ruined.

‘I expect we’ll be the only ones at the church.’ Beth had been getting her family prepared for the ordeal of the funeral on the Saturday morning.

Tom was more philosophical. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if a few neighbours turned up,’ he commented, as he wound his tie round his neck for the third time. ‘Happen not for Rita’s sake, but for old Joseph. He’s made a heap o’ friends over the years, an’ he’s never let ’em down when they needed him.’

He cocked his head to one side, skenning downwards through crossed eyes as he made a fourth attempt at taming his rebellious tie. ‘I reckon they’ll not let him down neither, especially not today of all days.’

Snatching the tie from round his neck, he threw it over the back of the chair. ‘I’m not wearing this damned thing! I can’t even fasten the beggar.’

Judy came to the rescue. ‘Don’t fidget, Dad,’ she said, sliding the tie round his leathery neck. ‘And I think you’re right. I bet the people will be there for old Joseph.’

‘I’m not so sure.’ Rolling the flesh-coloured stockings up to her thighs, Beth hoisted her skirt and hooked up the suspenders. ‘Although we were friends, there was summat inside Rita that made her lose all control. By! She must have bedded half the male population o’ Blackburn in her time. I’m just glad she never started on you, Tom. There must be a hundred women out there who’d like to dance on her grave, never mind come and pay their respects.’

As she spoke, she made the sign of the cross over herself. ‘God rest her soul all the same,’ she prayed.

Judy glanced across at her mam. ‘Your seams are crooked.’

‘What?’

Having looped her daddy’s tie into a neat little knot, the girl pointed down at her mother’s stockings. ‘The seams are all crooked, see?’

‘Oh, damn and bugger it!’ As a rule Beth never wore stockings; she much preferred bare legs, or a warm pair of socks inside boots or stout shoes. She was a farmer’s wife, not a townswoman.

Twisting herself round, Beth began tweaking the stockings, until the seams were as straight as she could get them. ‘How’s that, lass?’ she panted.

Judy nodded. ‘Much better, Mam.’

‘Right well, it’s time we were on our way.’ Looking in the mirror, she dabbed a discreet shaking of powder on her face, then a touch of lipstick, and then came the hat – a small round, blueberry-coloured thing. ‘How does that look?’ she asked, spinning round to face them.

‘Like a cherry on a cake,’ Tom remarked, making his daughter smile.

Ignoring his cheeky comment, Beth asked of Judy, ‘Do I look dignified, lass?’

The girl gave an honest answer. ‘Yes, Mam.’

‘And the hat – is it suitable for the occasion, d’you think? … And don’t look at your father; he’s got no idea.’

Judy gave her own opinion. ‘You look really smart, Mam. Rita would be pleased you’d made the effort.’

Beth regarded her daughter with a critical eye; the dark flared skirt and fitted jacket, and her light brown hair taken back in one thick plait. ‘You do us proud, so you do,’ she said with a generous hug. ‘Now then, are we ready or what?’

Tom was still tugging at the neck of his shirt; red in the face, he looked fit to burst. ‘It’s choking me, damn it!’

‘It’s me as’ll choke you, if you don’t stop yer moaning!’ Turning away, Beth winked at her daughter. ‘Look at our Judy,’ she told her husband. ‘She’s quietly got herself ready an’ not a word of complaint.’

Judy didn’t mind their friendly bantering; she had other things on her mind. ‘Do you think Don or Davie will be there?’ she asked. She’d dressed up with Davie in mind, just in case by some miracle he turned up; had wanted to look her very best. She knew it was silly. He’d have his heart and mind on his mam, not her. And she worried about how he’d been surviving, these past few days. He hadn’t been back to the barn.

‘I’ve been wondering the very same,’ Tom said. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me to see the lad there at some point. I mean, look how he stuck by his mam when everyone else turned against her. He’ll not desert her now, not if I know the lad, he won’t. As for Don, it’s a crying shame. He’ll probably not even know that the poor lass is dead.’

‘If he does put in an appearance, do what you can to persuade him to stay, Tom,’ Beth said. ‘Tell him he can have a home with us for as long as he wants.’

A few minutes later, with Tom lagging behind, still moaning because he was ‘being throttled by this blessed tie!’ the three of them made their way to the car. The old Morris Minor was in a bad humour today, and needed the starter-handle to get it going, by which time Tom had taken his tie off again, and had muck on his hands.

‘I hope Joseph was ready when they came for him,’ Tom said, breathing a sigh of relief as the engine caught. ‘I don’t expect he’s had a wink of sleep.’

As they made the short journey to St Peter’s Church, the conversation centred on Rita’s father. ‘You needn’t worry about him not being ready,’ Beth replied. ‘When we popped in yesterday, Judy and I went through everything with him – the time the undertakers would be there to collect him, and what he would need to wear. He had it all set out on the sofa ready.’

‘Aye, well, you never can tell with Joe. He’s a stubborn old devil when he puts his mind to it.’ Tom recalled his conversation with the older man. ‘I said it might be best if he stayed with us for a few days, and that we’d follow Rita to the church from here, if he wanted. But he were adamant that she had to go from his house, and try as I might, there was no persuading him otherwise.’

‘To tell you the truth, Tom, I never wholeheartedly agreed with your suggestion, kind though it was,’ Beth said now. ‘Joseph is used to his own four walls about him. Besides, I happen to believe he was right to insist that Rita was taken to the church from his house. It’s the accepted tradition, and she was his daughter, after all.’

‘And God help anyone who has a daughter like that!’ As Tom thought of the poor young woman dying in his cart, his heart broke at the pity and waste of it, and for Rita’s devastated family.

Over in Derwent Street, Joseph Davies took a last look in the mirror. His beard was neatly trimmed, and the night before, he had had a bath in the old tin tub. His shoes were shined and his fingernails trimmed. He had done his best for his daughter.

Turning to the photograph of Marie, his wife, he told her: ‘Jesus promises us we’ll be reunited with our loved ones, so I don’t fear for Rita, knowing you’ll be with her and our little baby Matty.’ He sobbed as he spoke, then went on, ‘I know that you and our Rita were good women; you never meant to do anyone harm. You both had hearts of gold – ’twas some strange quirk in your natures that made you run wild. I feel I failed you both, and now I long to be with you. If God is kind, He will let me join you in heaven. But first, I have young Davie and Don to look out for.’

Tears ran down his face, and he took a long, withering sigh. At that moment, he heard the sound of an engine, and pulling aside one of the curtains, which were closed throughout the house, he saw the hearse draw up at the kerb. Inside was a coffin, covered with the flowers he had ordered. This was the third member of his family he had seen to their last resting-place from here, and his heart cracked under the burden of his sorrow.

Bracing his shoulders, and saying a last, brief prayer, the old man went to open the front door to accompany his daughter to the church.

When the Makepeaces turned down Watson Street they were surprised to see several groups of people already gathering outside the church. ‘Well, I never!’ Beth was surprised at the considerable turnout. ‘Look! There’s Mr and Mrs Reynolds.’ She’d never really taken to the couple. There was summat sly about the pair of them, although their son Lenny was a nice boy.

Today, the young woman was nicely turned out, her hair freshly washed and brushed loose about her shoulders and a touch of lipstick to her mouth; and with no children round her ankles, she seemed more relaxed and much prettier than Beth recalled. Patsy had four children, two girls and two boys – the eldest being Lenny. Not yet sixteen but already with his own little stall on the market, Lenny apparently made no secret of his intention to make a fortune by the time he was twenty. Beth thought he was a grand lad, hardly a chip off the old block, as Patsy’s husband Ron was a tall, thin-faced man, a surly character, and workshy by all accounts.

Beth greeted them with a nod. ‘I hardly recognised you without your childer,’ she told the woman.

‘When I’ve got my hands full with them, I never have time to make myself look nice,’ Patsy replied. ‘I’ve roped our Lenny in to look after the kids. That’ll bring him down to earth with a bump!’

She turned to her husband, who returned a wry little grin. ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘it won’t hurt the cocky young devil to know his place … keep him from getting above himself, if you know what I mean?’

Beth said in his defence, ‘As I recall, your son looked a sensible, capable sort.’ Lenny was a well-built boy with a mop of dark hair and a wary look in his eye. ‘I imagine he’ll cope with the children very well.’ Bidding them good day, she moved on, feeling put out, somehow.

‘I don’t think that woman gets on too well with her eldest son,’ she confided in Tom. ‘I heard her going at him hammer and tongs that day at the house, and now they’re talking as though he’s a ruffian who needs to be kept under control.’

Tom was his usual self. ‘None of our business,’ he said, and the subject was closed.

There was a smattering of other neighbours, most of them Joseph’s friends and old workmates, and others who were attending out of curiosity. There were also a number of younger men; these were Don’s colleagues from the workshop, men who knew of Rita’s reputation but never lowered themselves to be acquainted with her or betray Don. Together with their wives they were here to support the bereaved family, and show their respect. In Don’s absence, they tried to represent him. The poor fellow would be devastated when he found out. It was a thoroughly bad do all round.

The others, the men who had used Rita and fought over her like dogs over a bone, they knew well enough to stay away.

No sooner had Tom parked his car than the organ started up and everyone began to file into the church. ‘No signs of Don then?’ Tom glanced anxiously about.

Beth had also been discreetly watching. ‘Happen the police didn’t find him, after all.’

‘Poor devil.’ Tom shook his head. ‘So he’ll not know his wife’s gone and his son missing?’ As he went in through the church door he kept his eyes peeled.

They shuffled into the pews and everyone got settled. ‘Did you see anything of Davie?’Judy whispered to her mam. ‘Is he here, do you think?’

‘No, lass. Or if he is, I for one didn’t see him.’

But the boy was there, crouched beside a huge woman in a pew to the rear of the church, where a large pillar cast a shadow. Scruffy, and thinner than ever, he strained to hear the priest’s opening words.

A few moments passed, and then Joseph and three other men were bringing Rita in, and everyone stood and bowed their heads, or made the sign of the cross on themselves. For Judy, sitting with her family, it was a deep and sobering experience, for she had never attended such an event before. For Davie, in the shadows, it felt like his own death.

The service was all too brief. They sang the hymns and they listened to the beautiful sermon, based on the words of wisdom from Ecclesiastes, and they prayed for eternal peace for the soul of Rita Adams. And then it was over, and they were all filing out again.

As she emerged into the daylight, Judy was anxiously scanning the area for Davie. But he was nowhere to be seen. ‘It’s no use looking for him, lass.’ Beth saw how anxious she was. ‘The lad did all he could for his mammy while she was alive, and there’s no more for him to do here.’

Knowing how Judy felt, the woman did not want to dash all her hopes. But sometimes, forever hoping for one thing means you will never get another, and that was not what she wanted for her daughter.

‘I’m sorry, love,’ she told Judy gently. ‘I reckon your Davie is long gone by now.’

Having witnessed the conversation, Tom saw the sadness in his daughter’s eyes and he wanted her away from this place. ‘Come on, you two. We’ve paid our respects, so let’s make us way home, eh?’

Beth was surprised. ‘Are we not going up to Pleasington Cemetery then, to witness the burial?’

Tom shook his head. ‘No need for that,’ he replied in his no-nonsense manner. ‘We showed up at the church, and to my mind, we’ve done our duty. Now, let’s be off. I’ve umpteen jobs waiting to be done back at the farm.’

Judy remained on the look-out for Davie. In her heart she knew he was here somewhere, hiding.

It was while they were walking back to the car and her parents got waylaid by some old friends, that the girl saw him. ‘Davie!’ She went at a run towards the boy, who was chasing after the slowly-departing hearse.

At first he didn’t hear her, so she went at a fast pace down the hill, and on to where the hearse was just beginning to pick up a dignified speed. ‘DAVIE, WAIT!’ Waving and shouting, she kept after him. And as he leaped onto the running-board of the hearse, he saw her.

‘DAVIE!’ Out of breath and fast losing him, Judy put a spurt on. But there was no chance of her catching up, and Davie made no sign of jumping off the vehicle. He had watched the service from the back of the church and hid while they put his mammy onto the hearse, and now he had to go with her and lay the wild posies he’d collected. Moreover, he needed to know where she lay, so he would never forget.

‘GO BACK!’ Davie’s voice carried on the wind. ‘Don’t forget I love you … and tell my grandad I love him!’

As the distance between them grew wider, Davie let their images soak into his memory; his beloved father and grandfather, and Judy and her family, the kindest people he had ever known. And he wondered how he would manage without them. There was no telling where he might end up or how long he might be gone, and whether he would ever come back to this place, where he had known both contentment and unhappiness in equal measures.

For now though, his future was not something that concerned him, because only an arm’s reach away, his mother lay lifeless, gone from his sight and from his life forever.

His father had been crippled by the burden he had carried for too long, and there was a real possibility that he might never see him again. But the boy wanted to see him. He needed to tell him the way of things, and how neither of them were to blame. At this moment in time, he longed for his father’s presence, more than at any other time in his entire life.

Yet even as he whispered Don’s name, his eyes on Rita’s coffin, the piece of paper that his daddy had given him, with the precious contact name on it, fell out of his trouser pocket and was immediately whisked into a hawthorn hedge by a passing gust of wind. And there it lay wedged, unread, while the elements, seasons, and myriad hedge-dwelling creatures reduced it to a sodden scrap. And father and son were lost to each other, unless a kinder wind might blow them back together.

Judy waved to Davie until her arm ached. And even when he and the hearse were out of sight, she continued to wave at the empty horizon.

When she climbed wearily back up the hill towards the church, her parents were sitting quietly on the wall. The lane was almost deserted, and the church was empty.

‘Come on, sweetheart’ Beth came forward to slide a comforting arm round her daughter’s shoulders. ‘Your dad’s waiting to take us home.’

As Tom drew away from the church car park, Patsy Reynolds climbed into the front passenger seat of a battered and elderly Ford, and lit a cigarette.

‘Stuck-up bunch, them Makepeaces, ain’t they?’ she commented to her husband. ‘Looked a bit shocked when we said about keeping Lenny under our thumb. None of their bleedin’ business, anyhow.’

‘I couldn’t give a sod how shocked they were!’ Ron’s mood had darkened. He wished he hadn’t taken time off from his job as a tram-driver to come here. But if they wanted to butter up old Joseph, they had to play the game.

Patsy dug him in the ribs. ‘Hey, you know what?’

Scowling, he swung round. ‘What?’

‘I were just thinking.’ A sly grin crept over her features.

‘Oh, I see.’ Thinking himself lucky, his passion rose. There was no one around, and it excited him, the thought of taking her here, on so-called sacred ground. ‘Want some, do you?’ he said huskily, and slid his hand under her skirt.

‘Get off, you randy sod!’ She pushed him away, and blew smoke in his face. ‘I were just thinking about them Makepeaces, being shocked at what we said about Lenny.’

‘So what?’ Impatient, he started the car engine.

‘Well, just you think about it.’ She smiled, a look of devilment on her face. ‘If they knew the truth, they’d have something to be shocked about, wouldn’t they, eh?’

‘What are you getting at, you silly moo?’

Nervously glancing about, Patsy lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘It’s as well they don’t know the truth – about Lenny, I mean.’

Ron snorted. ‘You’re right. Mind, it would be a real treat to see the look on their faces.’ Glancing at Tom’s car as it travelled slowly along the lower lane, he shouted at the top of his voice, ‘That’s summat you didn’t know, you miserable buggers – the truth about the lad. Oh yes! Put the cat among the pigeons, that would.’

‘Shut your bloody trap!’ Patsy warned him. ‘Just keep it buttoned! If the truth got out, we could end up in jail.’ She punched her husband hard on the shoulder. ‘You’d do well to remember that.’

As they hastily departed for home, the hitherto jovial atmosphere was quickly replaced by a moody silence, punctuated by the wheezings and bouncings of a vehicle that was well past its prime.