Читать книгу The Loner - Josephine Cox - Страница 11

‘LOOK, MAM, HE’s home. Dad’s home!’

Tom’s daughter Judy had been watching for him these past two hours. Now, as she saw the old milk-cart turn the bend in the lane, she took to her heels and ran to open the gate of Three Mills Farm. Her dad was back, and she needed a hug.

Tom saw her coming and his heart burst with pride. How had he come to father such a lovely creature? Small-boned, with long willowing sun-kissed hair and eyes soft and grey as a dove, she was like a rainbow after rain to him.

Right from when she was a toddler, Judy had been behind him everywhere he went, and now at the age of twelve, it was the same; whether he was milking the cows or stacking the hay, she was there. Most days, before and after school, she helped him in the fields or the barn, and when he was painting the house, she went before him, washing the picture-rails inside or the window-sills outside, or holding the ladder in case it slipped and he broke his worthless neck.

And when she wasn’t helping him or her mammy, she was running across the valley with the local dogs at her heels. Other times she would sit quietly with the fishermen at the river, thrilled when they caught a fish and put it back, and sad at heart if they took it home to cook it.

From a tender age, Judy was drawn to the water at every turn; Tom and Beth daren’t let her out of their sight in case she slipped into the river. So, when she was little more than a year old, they took her into the water and, as they expected, she loved it. Swimming had come naturally to her, until she was as much at home in the water as the fish themselves. ‘Should’ve been born with a tail and fins,’ her parents joked.

When she wasn’t swimming or watching the fishermen, the little girl was running down the towpath, racing the barges as they made their lazy way alongside. She was kind and curious, totally fearless, and wherever she went, her smile went with her. Although her parents grieved that no other babbies had come along after her, to keep her company, they idolised their precious gift of a daughter.

‘Where’ve you been?’ When the cart was slowed down, she scrambled up. ‘We’ve been looking out for you.’ Wrapping her arms about his neck, she gave her dad a long, affectionate cuddle. ‘Mam says you’ve been down the pub having a crafty pint.’

‘Does she now?’

‘Yes. She said you’d be talking and drinking and forget the time.’

He laughed at that. ‘Another time she might well have been right, but not today, lass.’

‘So, where were you then, Daddy?’

His smile fell away; his mind full of images he would rather not recall. ‘I didn’t get the milk-round done as quickly as I might have. Y’see, I were held up with summat entirely unexpected and it threw me right out of the routine.’ What with finding Davie’s mammy and taking her to the undertakers, then the police quizzing him, and afterwards serving his loyal customers and finishing the deliveries before going back to look for Davie, the day had sped by without him realising.

‘You promised to take me fishing. Did you forget?’

‘No, lass, I didn’t forget. Like I said, I had urgent business to attend to.’

‘What kind of business?’ Clicking the horse on, she let it amble towards the stable.

‘It’s not summat I want to talk about just now, our Judy.’

Seeing his downcast face, she drew the horse to a halt. ‘Has something bad happened?’

‘Get along with you now,’ he urged tiredly. ‘It’s been a long day and I’ve a need to talk with your mammy.’

Something in the tremor of his voice made her keep her silence. She wanted to know what had upset him so, but for now she could wait. And so she clicked the horse on again. ‘Mammy’s got the dinner all ready,’ she promised. ‘It’s your favourite – steak and onion pie.’

Normally he would have smacked his lips at that, but not today. Today, Judy sensed he had something deeper on his mind. She realised it must be something very serious, otherwise he would have told her.

For now though, she wisely left him to his thoughts and concentrated on the way ahead.

Just as Judy promised, Beth had the meal all ready to serve. ‘Late again, Tom Makepeace!’ She tutted and fussed, and wrapping the tea-towel round her hands she took the meat pie from the oven. ‘It’s a wonder this pie isn’t burned to a cinder, and as for the vegetables, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they’ve turned to pulp.’ She might have continued with her good-natured scolding, but his thoughtful mood made her cautious. ‘What ’ave you got to say for yerself then?’

‘Not now, love.’ Heartsore and weary to the bone, Tom washed his hands at the sink. After drying them on the towel hanging from the range, he dropped himself into the armchair. ‘I’m beaten, lass,’ he muttered. ‘It’s been the worst day’

Making the pie safe on the table, she wiped her hands on her pinnie and came to him. ‘Whatever’s wrong, Tom?’ She knew her man all too well, and she knew there was something troubling him deeply.

He glanced anxiously across the room at Judy who had returned from the stable. ‘Come here, lass. There’s summat you both need to know.’ He recalled how deeply devoted to Davie she was, and he feared the effect his news might have on her.

With trepidation, Judy came to her mother and the two of them waited for Tom to explain. ‘It’s bad news,’ he warned grimly. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to tell it.’

And so he told it straight; how Davie’s mam had come home drunk and abusive once too often, and of how, after too long being patient and forgiving, her husband had walked out.

‘Oh, no!’ Beth was shocked. ‘What about the boy and his grandfather? Couldn’t they persuade him to stay and give it one last try – for Davie’s sake if not for theirs?’

‘Is Davie all right?’ Judy’s anxious question turned Tom’s heart.

‘Hear me out, lass. I’m not done yet.’ He enveloped them both in the sweep of his gaze.

Instinctively clinging to her mother, Judy fell silent; and Tom continued.

Firstly he answered Beth’s question. ‘From what I could gather, Don didn’t want to leave without Davie, but the boy decided to stay behind, with his mammy.’ He paused and sighed, then quietly continued. ‘It seems the grandfather had come to the end of his tether, too. There was a row of sorts, and after Don left, the old man threw Rita out, bag and baggage.’

He quickly imparted how the boy had decided to go with his mother and look after her as best he could, though his grandad didn’t much care for that idea. In fact, old Joseph was so upset that he told them both to sling their hooks and good riddance, more or less.

And then he relayed the worst news of all.

‘I was driving past the woods during my round when I heard young Davie shouting for help. His mammy had suffered a fall and hurt herself badly. By the time I got to her, she were drifting in and out of consciousness.’ He recalled the sad sight of her, and cleared his throat. All day long, he had wanted to make his way back home to Three Mills Farm, and confide the news to his wife, for it was she he always turned to when in times of trouble. But events had taken over and, as it turned out, there was little opportunity.

He described how he had followed the boy and how, when he came to Rita, he could tell straightaway that she was in desperate need of hospital treatment.

‘We managed to get her as far as the cart and lay her down, when she drew her last breath. It were a matter of minutes, that’s all, and she was lost to us. And there was nothing either of us could do to save her.’ He blew his nose loudly.

‘What about Davie!’ Shocked at the news, Judy’s immediate thoughts were for her friend. ‘Where is he? Why didn’t you bring him home with you, Dad?’

Tom shook his head. This was going to be hard. ‘Seeing his mammy go like that, it was a terrible thing for the lad to witness, especially after seeing his father walk out and then his grandfather turn against his own flesh and blood. He held her close until she’d said her last words to him, then before I knew it, he’d leaped off the cart and was running into the forest, as if old Nick hisself was after him. Oh, I called for the lad time and again…told him to come along of us and that we’d take care of him, but I haven’t seen him since. I had to get his mammy away, don’t you see? There was the police to deal with and all sorts. Afterwards, I went back, and I scoured the woods, calling and shouting and begging him to come home with me. But there was neither sound nor sight of him.’

‘Poor little chap.’ Beth was appalled by the news. ‘What will become of him, d’you think? Where will he go? How will he survive- a lad of his tender years?’

Judy was distraught. ‘We’ve got to go back! We have to find him. Please, Dad, we can’t just leave him.’

‘He’s not there any more, child. I searched and called and there was nothing. He’ll be long gone by now.’

Tom recalled how brave Davie had been and how, through a bad sequence of events and none of them his doing, he had been made a man overnight. ‘He’ll get through this,’ he said decidedly. ‘Young though he is, the lad’s already come through one bad shock after another. I’m sure he’ll think long and hard about which way to go. Don’t worry, lass. Happen when he’s had time to consider everything, he’ll come back of his own accord.’ In reassuring his daughter, he failed to reassure himself, however, although he was certain of one thing. ‘Davie knows he’ll be safe enough with us.’

But Judy couldn’t let it drop. ‘When you’ve eaten and rested, will you come back and see if he’s there?’ she pleaded. ‘He might have been hiding when you called for him. He might not have wanted to talk – perhaps he wasn’t ready then, but he’ll listen to me, I know he will. Please, Daddy, please come back and try again.’

Knowing how determined she could be, Tom worried that she might take matters into her own hands. Deciding it was wiser to pacify her, and being anxious himself as to Davie’s whereabouts, he relented.

‘All right, lass. Once I’ve had a sit-down and a bite to eat, we’ll go and search for him. But first we’ll call at his grandfather’s house. The police will already have been to see him, to inform him about poor Rita’s death. I told them everything I knew and they said to leave it with them.’ At the back of his mind he wondered. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if we didn’t find young Davie there. After all, when you think about it, where else would he go, but home?’

‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ Beth warned. ‘It was his grandfather who threw them out, wasn’t it? So, for all we know, Davie might be blaming him for what happened to his mammy.’

‘Davie would never do that!’ Judy sprang immediately to his defence. ‘Davie thinks the world of him. It was his grandad who took them all in when they lost their home and everything.’

‘The lass is right,’ Tom agreed. ‘Young Davie is not the sort to lay the blame where it doesn’t belong. The truth is, Rita brought it all on herself, God help her.’

At that point, Beth served the meal and they sat at the table, each thinking of Davie and praying that he would be all right, out there, God knows where, grieving for his mammy and with no one to comfort him.

After a few mouthfuls of the pie, Tom pushed back his plate. ‘Sorry, love, I haven’t the stomach for it,’ he told his wife. ‘If we’re going to search for the lad, we’d best get off now. But first we’ll stop off at Derwent Street – check on Joe, and see if the boy has turned up there, before we go off on a wild-goose chase round the woods.’

Beth and Judy readily agreed. They put on their coats and stout shoes and waited at the door while Tom got the Morris Minor out of the barn. ‘I didn’t think it would start,’ he said as they climbed in. ‘I can’t recall the last time I had this motor-car on the road.’

‘Hmh!’ Beth gave him a wry glance. ‘I’m not surprised, because whenever you take me and Judy out, it’s always on the blessed cart! I’m surprised the motor-car hasn’t seized up altogether,’ she grumbled. ‘Then we’d have turned up at Joseph’s house in that smelly old cart. And what would folks think, eh?’

Going down the lane at a steady pace, with the engine spitting and complaining, they sat quiet for a while, each engrossed in their own thoughts, thinking of Rita and the way things had turned out. Mostly their thoughts were for young Davie, because in truth he was the one who had suffered most in this tragedy.

Judy was certain that Davie would not hold his grandfather responsible for his mammy’s death. For one agonising moment, she put herself in Davie’s shoes. He had loved his grandfather; and it must have come as a shock when Joseph turned against him. She also knew that, although he would forgive him, he would never be enticed back, even if his grandfather changed his mind. If Davie was anything at all, he was proud, and fiercely independent.

When they turned the corner into Derwent Street, they were not surprised to see the neighbours emerging from Joseph’s house. ‘The news has spread,’ Tom declared respectfully. ‘I expect he’s had folks in and out since the police came to see him.’

As they got out of the car, one or two of the neighbours nodded to them, and they nodded back. They didn’t speak. What was there to say?

‘He’ll need all the support he can get,’ Beth replied. ‘Rita’s reputation was known throughout Blackburn. She lost respect and many friends through her degrading antics. Time and again, she brought trouble to the door; first to poor Don, and then to her own father, even though he had been so good to her.’

‘You’re right, lass,’ Tom remarked under his breath. ‘She managed to heap shame on the only three people who truly loved her.’

‘Hmh! There’ll be them as say she deserved what she got.’ Beth gave a long, shivering sigh. ‘All the same, I can’t help but feel saddened by what’s happened to her, so young an’ all.’

‘I know what you’re saying, lass.’ Tom felt the same. ‘But now she’s gone, it’s the old man we have to concern ourselves with, and the boy especially. Folks round here will no doubt keep an eye on Joseph but the boy has no one. He’s out there somewhere, God knows where, without a friend to talk to, and no roof over his head.’ He glanced sideways, seeking reassurance from this wise woman of his. ‘It’s a bad thing, don’t you think, lass?’

‘It is,’ Beth concurred. ‘But you did the best you could, and a body can do no more.’ She touched him softly on the arm. ‘Don’t fret yourself, Tom. You can’t be responsible for what’s happened; none of us can. All we can do is hope the boy is safe…wherever he might be.’

‘We have to find him.’ Judy was determined. ‘If he’s not here, we have to search and search, and not give up until we can take him home with us.’ She had visions of Davie curled up somewhere, alone and shivering, and frightened. She longed to be with him, to give him consolation. Like her daddy had said just now, it was a ‘bad thing’.

They found the old man seated in the parlour, his head bent low to his knees and his hands clasped over his head, as though trying to fend off some vicious attacker. Rocking backwards and forwards, he didn’t even hear them come in. ‘Joseph?’ Tom laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘It’s me, Tom, and my family. We’ve come to see how you are.’

It was a moment before Joseph looked up. They had been prepared for him to be deeply shocked by the news of what had happened to his daughter and grandson, but even so, they were taken aback by the stricken look in his eyes. His face was marked with angry red streaks where he’d scraped his fingernails down his cheeks, and the skin hung in curious folds over his features, as though the substance had been sucked away from underneath. ‘Oh, Tom.’ He began rocking again. ‘What in God’s name have I done? Rita, my own flesh and blood. I sent her away, thinking she might get herself in order and come back to live a decent life, and now she can’t ever comeback.’

Plump teardrops pushed over his eyelids and ran down his face. ‘My daughter was a wilful woman, ran right off the rails at times, but she didn’t deserve to be struck down. Dear God, she had so much to live for, so much to make up!’ He rolled his eyes to heaven. ‘I turned her out on the streets…her and the boy with her. May God forgive me. I should lie in hell for what I did!’

When he began sobbing, Beth whispered to Judy to help her in the kitchen. ‘Stay with him,’ she told Tom, ‘while me and Judy see if we can’t make us all a cup of tea.’ That was typical of Beth. A cup of tea would put so many things right. But not this time, she thought. Not this time.

‘Will Joseph be all right?’ Never having witnessed such grief, the young girl was feeling scared.

Beth held her for a moment, taking comfort from the girl’s warm body against her own. ‘It’ll be terrible hard for him,’ she said emotionally, ‘but he’s got friends. And maybe when Davie’s come to terms with what’s happened, he might be of a mind to make it up with his grandad, and find his way home.’

‘No, Mam. Davie will never come back here, not now.’ Judy Makepeace was unsure about a lot of things in her young life, but of this she was 100 per cent certain. Wherever Davie went, it would be far away from the house in Derwent Street.