The Loner (6 page)

As was her way, Beth took matters into her own hands. Setting the tray down on the table, she knelt in front of the old man. ‘Joseph?’ Her voice was silky soft. ‘Joseph, it’s Beth…look at me, dear.’

When he seemed not to have heard, but instead kept rocking back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster, she raised her hands to his face and made him be still. ‘JOSEPH! It’s me, Beth. I’ve made you a hot drink. I want you to take it, and then we’ll sit and talk, you, me and Tom. Will you do that for me?’

Now, as he turned away, she persevered. ‘You, me and Tom,’ she repeated. ‘The three of us like old friends, just drinking and talking, and helping each other. Do you think you can do that for me?’

Joseph looked into her eyes and saw the kindness there. But it seemed an age before he answered, and then it was just the slightest nod.

Beth smiled at him. ‘All right, that’s what we’ll do then, eh? The three of us…talking and drinking, and helping each other. Yes! That’s what we’ll do.’ Greatly relieved, she could see he was coming back to her, but he was still in shock, and in her brightest voice she teased, ‘D’you know what, Joseph? I don’t know about you, but if you’ve got any old brandy hidden away, I wouldn’t mind just the teeniest drop in my cup of tea.’

She gave a deliberate sigh. ‘Oh, but I don’t suppose you’ve got any such thing, eh? So we’ll just have to go without, won’t we?’ Beth knew full well that Joseph always kept a bottle of brandy in the cupboard. ‘It would have been nice, though, don’t you think? A drop of the good stuff to warm our cockles?’

Slowly but surely, a glimmer of understanding crept over Joseph’s sorry features. ‘You artful devil, Beth Makepeace,’ he said in a croaky voice. ‘You know exactly where it is.’

He rallied round. ‘You can fetch it, if you like.’

‘I don’t know,’ Tom answered truthfully. ‘Happen he’ll think things over, and when he’s come to terms with what happened out there in the woods, he’ll turn his mind to you, and he’ll know you didn’t mean it when you spoke harshly to him.’

Unconvinced, Joseph’s next question was directed at Judy. ‘I reckon you know him better than any of us, lass. Will he come home, d’you think? When he’s cried himself out, will he make his way back to his old grandad? What d’you reckon, pet?’

The girl said cautiously, ‘Maybe.’ Davie loved his grandad, she knew that for sure. But what she didn’t know was how deeply he had been affected by what had happened to his mammy. And for his grandad to turn against him was unthinkable. Davie would be taking it hard, she knew that well enough, but she revealed nothing of her thoughts. What would be the point? She’d only upset the old chap further.

‘It’s a lot for the lad to deal with.’ Joseph was thinking aloud now. ‘First his mammy comes home drunker than I’ve ever seen her, then there’s this terrible fight and his daddy walks out, and as for me…’ He took another swig of his tea. ‘I threw him and his mammy out onto the streets. And that was
after
I had damn near pushed her down the stairs. She must have hurt herself badly but she didn’t say owt, you see? Oh, my Rita. My stubborn little girl!’ He sobbed anew. ‘What kind of monster am I?’ He took another swig. ‘The lad saw his mammy die out there in the woods. God Almighty! I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to set eyes on me again.’

For a split second there was an uncomfortable silence, before Judy flung her arms round the old man’s neck, saying passionately, ‘He loves you! Davie would never think bad of you – never!’

Startled by her sudden show of affection, the old man looked up to see her crying. ‘Oh, lass,’ he said huskily. ‘It’s no wonder our Davie took you for a friend. You’re a caring, kind young thing, and if you say he’ll forgive me, then I’ll take your word for it.’ If only he could turn back time. If only…‘I’m hoping our Davie won’t forsake me, any more than I could forsake him,’ he wept, ‘and I hope you’re right, bonnie lass, when you say he’ll come home. But I was harsh on him…on both of ’em. I turned my back on the lad when he needed me most. Happen he’ll never forget that. Happen he’ll never forgive me for it neither.’

Taking another swig of his tea, and for the first time, Joseph told them about his late wife, Marie. ‘My wife was a real beauty, just like Rita,’ he said fondly. ‘Unfortunately, she started the boozing soon after having Rita. An’ then our second child – baby Matty, we called him – died in his sleep one night, and there was no consolin’ her. Poor little Matty – an’ now Rita, too. Both me childer dead an’ gone.’ He gave a long, shuddering sigh. ‘At first I thought I could help my Marie to be rid of the booze and the men, and live a decent life with me and with our beautiful daughter Rita. But for all my efforts, it didn’t happen. Lord knows how hard I tried to change her. Many a man would have walked out on her, but I couldn’t do it. I loved her, y’see, and when she was sober she had a mischievous and lovable nature, just like Rita.’

As the Makepeace family listened respectfully, Joseph paused. The bad memories had, by now, brought a scowl to his face. ‘Oh, but when she’d been at the booze, by God, Marie was the devil incarnate.’

He explained how Rita seemed, in time, to have naturally followed in her mother’s footsteps. ‘I can’t blame the lass for what she became,’ he said regretfully. ‘She grew up adoring her mammy, living in her shadow, seeing her kind and loving one minute, and in the next how violent and cruel she was.’

He took a moment to remember. ‘I should have left her then,’ he said gruffly, ‘but I loved her too much. I kept on hoping she’d come to her senses for the child’s sake, but she never did. And when the TB took her off when she was still in her prime, it seemed like my Rita took on her mother’s character…up and happy one minute, then down and shameless the next.’

He spoke of his son-in-law. ‘She were just a kid when she met Don, and oh, I was that pleased for her. I thought, here’s a good man, hardworking and decent. They will be happy together, not like Marie and me. Aye, he loved her as much as any man can love a woman, but when she went wrong, he couldn’t change her, any more than I could change her mammy.’

He hunched his shoulders. ‘I don’t blame him for walking out, and nor should anyone else. If I’d walked out, all them years back, I might have saved Rita from copying her mammy’s ways. In truth, Rita became worse than my Marie ever was. She went with men openly. She even did her dirty work with blokes who worked alongside Don at the factory.’ Growing emotional, he took a moment to compose himself. ‘There were snide remarks and cruel taunts, and my son-in-law would retaliate, like any other normal man would. But then there’d be fights, and he’d lose his job again and there would be no money coming in.

‘They say you shouldn’t speak ill of the…’ Unable to say the word, he closed his eyes, then quickly opened them again, and now his voice was stronger. ‘It pains me to say it, especially now she’s gone… but my daughter was a slut of the worst kind. There was such badness in her – almost as though her mammy had passed it on with a vengeance. And good man that he was, Don stuck with her, till his patience was tried too far. I knew it had to happen, and somehow I reckon I also knew that one day it would end in tragedy. She was like a runaway train, my Rita, heading straight towards a cliff-edge.’

‘Have you any idea where Don was headed?’ Tom wondered if the man had been informed of the situation – his wife dead, and his son missing.

‘No idea at all.’ Joseph had been thinking along the same lines. ‘When he left here, it was on the spur of the minute. He was in such a state, I don’t reckon he knew where he was headed himself. Although, he did give a slip of paper to young Davie, with someone’s name on it. The boy must have gone off with it.’

‘Well, Don will have to be told, won’t he?’ Tom queried. ‘He’ll need to know what’s happened. His wife is beyond his help now, but the boy needs his father.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’ Sad at heart and not knowing which way to turn, Joseph revealed, ‘I told the police the whole story, from beginning to end, and they promised to do what they could to find him.’

‘But they’re not really duty bound to do so, are they?’ Beth intervened.

Joseph agreed. ‘Happen they’ve done their duty in telling me about the accident, and mebbe it’s up to me to do the rest.’

‘But what about Davie?’ Judy persisted. ‘The police will have to find him, won’t they?’

‘I hope so, lass. After all, he’s only just coming up to fourteen. I told them how much he thought of his mammy and how badly this whole business would have affected him. Let’s hope they find him, eh? Aye, let’s hope they do. As for him going after his dad, he doesn’t have a penny piece on him, and the mood our Don was in when he left, it wouldn’t surprise me if he hasn’t already left the country – jumped on a ship at the docks mebbe, and gone to sea. They can always use a good carpenter on board ship.’

Tom was interested. ‘Was that what he hankered after?’ he asked. ‘Making for foreign parts?’

‘Yes. Right from when he went abroad with the Army he had an appetite to see the world. Said as how he’d like to join that scheme to emigrate to Australia…with all those wide open spaces where a man could breathe. Then again, he might have gone back to Ireland. I understand he has an old aunt there, although, as I recall, he hasn’t seen her in years.’

He yawned, and said sleepily, ‘Aye, happen that’s where he’ll be headed…Australia, or Ireland. One or the other, I’ll be window, she stared out into the darkness, but there was nothing to be seen, except a lone cat prowling the area for a mate.

Turning away, she crossed the room, stumbled into bed and drew the blankets over her. In a matter of minutes she was fast asleep.

In the other room, having talked themselves into exhaustion, Beth and Tom also were asleep.

It had been a worrying day for them all.

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 where abouts 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, may be 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 may be you’re right. May be he does need some time to himself.’ Another thought reluctantly crossed her mind. ‘May be 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 play fully 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 a back. ‘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 Make peaces 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 new born 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.’