Three Letters (17 page)

Half an hour
later, having washed and dressed, she entered the kitchen to make herself a pot of tea. When the tea was brewed and her cup filled, she wrapped her two hands around it and carried it to the window, where she looked out.

Something on the bridge quickly caught her attention. Collecting her spectacles from the sideboard, she put them on and squinted towards the bridge once more, at what she imagined
was a bundle of rags on the ground.

She leaned forward to get a better look. It was a child … a small child. Laying down her spectacles, she ran to the front passageway and collected her coat. Outside, she looked up and down the street, but could not see anyone who might belong to the child.

The memories of what had happened to that young man had badly shaken her. And now there was a child sitting
on the cold ground beneath that very same spot where the young man had slid to his death.

She chattered to herself as she went out of the front door and across the street. She knew she would never forget what she had seen. ‘Why didn’t I realise what he meant to do?’ she tormented herself. Even now, she could see Tom’s quiet smile in her mind. She could hear his reassuring voice, yet still she
blamed herself for not realising his intention. And what about his family? The thought of their sorrow made her feel all the more guilty.

Now, she was hurrying across the street, noticing how the bridge was already cordoned off. ‘Soon they’ll be out here in their droves, I dare say.’

Dolly realised that was inevitable, given the circumstances. Drawing closer to the bridge, she could see the
child crouched down against the bridge wall. Close enough now, she realised the child was a boy, probably no older than seven or eight years of age. She looked about, wondering if the parents might be close, but there was no one else in sight.

She advanced quietly and carefully, afraid that when he saw her approaching, he might suddenly run away.

Casey was so lost in thoughts of his dad, he
had not seen Dolly coming, but when he heard her call out to him, he was on his feet in an instant. Ready to run, he stood with his back to the wall.

‘Please, lady, I’m not doing anything wrong. Leave me alone.’ As Dolly drew nearer, he took stock of her, relieved to find that she was just an old woman.

‘I know you’re not doing anything wrong.’

Dolly stood still on the pavement, afraid he would
take off if she took one more step. ‘It’s just that I heard you crying, and I noticed there was no one with you. I’m sorry, child, but I was worried. I only want to help you.’

She could see he was agitated, ready to flee at any moment. She needed to calm him. ‘It’s just that … well, it’s so cold out here, I thought you might like to come inside my house and warm yourself. I can make you a nice
cup of hot cocoa, if you like? You needn’t worry, there’s no one else in the house … only me.’ Her smile was warm. ‘I promise, I truly don’t mean to harm you.’

To her bitter disappointment, she had never been blessed with children of her own, though over the years she had been an adopted auntie to the neighbours’ children. ‘Just so’s you know, my name is Dolly. What’s yours?’

Her name jogged
Casey’s memory. ‘Dolly? Is that really your name … Dolly?’ He tried to remember what the policeman had said, and he uttered the first thing that came to mind: ‘Did you find my dad?’

Dolly was completely taken aback. Tearfully she came forward. ‘Oh, dearie me, you’re looking for your father, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Oh, child, what are we to do, eh?’

Raising the cuff of her
sleeve she wiped away her tears. ‘Come with me, eh? Trust me. You can ask me anything you like …’ she opened her arms to him, ‘… please, child. Come home with me now, eh? I don’t mean you any harm. I only want to help you.’

Suddenly the boy was in her arms, sobbing, clinging to her, as all the pent-up emotions poured out, ‘Where is he … where’s my dad?’ He looked up at her, his eyes big and sad.
‘They won’t tell me what’s happened, and I can’t find him.’

Fighting back her own tears, Dolly held him tight. ‘First things first, m’darling,’ she coaxed. ‘Come on now. Let’s get you inside, in the warm. Then we’ll decide what to do … the two of us.’

Together they walked across the street, and into that cosy little home. Closing the door behind them, Dolly held his hand as they went down the
passage and into the back parlour. ‘Here we are, bonny lad!’ She looked into that sorrowful little face and her old heart ached for what he must be going through.

Casey remained anxious. ‘Where’s my dad? I want my dad.’ Even while he asked the questions, he already knew. ‘Is it true what they said? Did my dad fall … ?’ He choked on the words, not wanting to know the truth, yet desperate to be
told.

Dolly’s heart went out to him. She didn’t really know how to tell him the truth, or even whether she should. To her mind, it was the responsibility of a close relative to break the awful news. So she answered his question with another instead. ‘What’s your name, child?’

‘Casey.’

‘Well, now, that’s a fine name, an’ no mistake.’ She kept her hold on him, loose yet definite, in case he decided
to run. ‘D’you know what I think, Casey?’

Casey shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Well, first of all, I think I should make us both a cup o’ cocoa. Then we’ll sit down together, and you can ask me any questions you like. I don’t promise to know all the answers, but I’ll do my best. So, what d’you say to that?’

Needing to trust her, Casey gave a small, if reluctant nod.

‘Right then.’ Dolly was grateful.
‘That’s good. You sit in the chair by the fireside, and I’ll set about making us that cocoa.’

She watched him go over to the fireplace, where he hoisted himself into the big old armchair. Feeling easier now that she’d managed to persuade him this far, Dolly went into the scullery and put the kettle on.

‘Are you hungry?’ she called out to him. ‘I’ve got shortcake biscuits, or apple pie … all
home-made.’ Still nervous that he might decide to make a dash for it, she kept a wary eye on him through the adjoining door.

Casey, though, was willing and even thankful to sit there for a while. He was cold, and hungry, and he needed to think. And anyway, she’d promised that he could ask her questions about his dad, and that she would do her best to answer them. He was starting to think that
this kind lady would reassure him, and that the police had got it all wrong.

A few moments later, Dolly came through to the back parlour. ‘Here we are, Casey. I’ve brought both biscuits and a slice of my apple pie as well. It won’t matter if you leave it, because I’m sure it won’t go to waste. Billy next door is very partial to my home-made apple pie.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘Mind you, I’d
much rather you had it, because that Billy’s put on too much weight of late. I keep telling him it’s bad for his heart. But will he listen?’

When she set the tray on the table, Casey saw the food and his stomach began quietly growling. The biscuits were thick and crumbly, and the apple pie was plump and dripping with juice. He couldn’t remember his mother ever baking anything like that.

Not
for the first time, he thought of his mother. Then he recalled the frightful scene back at the house, and he shut her from his mind. All the same, he was sorry about what happened. In truth, he blamed himself.

‘Come and sit at the table, child.’ Dolly set him a place. ‘There you are.’ She watched as he climbed onto the chair. ‘You just help yourself, while I pop to the front room for a minute.’

‘You’re not going outside, are you?’ Nervous that she might not come back, Casey began to panic.

‘Oh, now don’t you worry, child. I’ve just remembered I forgot to open the curtains in the front room.’ She gave a nervous little chuckle. ‘Folks’ll begin to think I’m still abed, an’ we can’t have that, can we, eh?’

Still a little anxious, Casey shook his head.

Dolly breathed a sigh of relief.
‘You help yourself to the cakes and biscuits, and I’ll be back before you know it.’

When he now reached out for a biscuit, she sneaked quietly away. Once inside the front room, she softly closed the door, then quickly went to the sideboard where the big black telephone stood. It was Billy, her next-door neighbour, who had suggested that she get a telephone, ‘So you can call out if ever you need
to,’ he told her.

She now picked up the big heavy receiver and placed the earpiece to her ear. With the tip of her finger, she began dialling the police number. She still hadn’t got used to using the telephone, and was somewhat nervous.

It rang for a moment before a very officious woman answered at the other end. ‘Blackburn Police Station. Can I help you?’

Holding the telephone slightly away
from her face, Dolly told her, ‘This is Dolly Pritchard speaking. I live in Mill Hill, and I was the woman who saw that young man fall from Mill-Hill bridge. I have his son here. He’s run away, d’you see. The poor lad is looking for his father. I, er … I mean, I don’t like to tell him what’s happened, d’you see?’ she began to stutter.

‘Mrs Pritchard, you say you were the one who reported the
man falling from the bridge at Mill Hill? … Thank you, I have your name. Please could you tell me your full address … ?’

Ashamed and guilty for having called the police, Dolly slammed the receiver down. This was not the right way to help the boy.

When she returned to the back parlour, Casey was seated in the big old armchair, staring into the fire grate, but seeming not to be looking at anything
in particular.

Dolly glanced at the table, where sadly not a thing had been touched; not even the cocoa she’d made to warm him up.

With an aching heart, she went to him and, placing her chubby hands about his face, she caused him to look up at her. ‘What are we going to do with you, eh, child?’ He looked so small and lost.

‘Please … will you tell me where my dad is?’

‘I don’t know where he
is,’ she answered softly.

‘You saw him, though, didn’t you?’ When she gave no answer, he scrambled away from her, his voice loud and angry. ‘YOU’RE JUST LIKE THE OTHERS … YOU’RE LYING! I HEARD WHAT THE POLICEMAN TOLD MY GRANDDAD.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘You saw him, didn’t you?’

‘I saw a young man, yes that’s true. But I don’t know if he was your father. I don’t know what your father looked
like. The young man on the bridge seemed very troubled. We spoke, and he urged me to go and look for my little dog. He’d run away, you see, and I needed to find him before he got lost. He does that sometimes, and he doesn’t like a lot of noise and fuss. Which is why Billy’s keeping him next door just now.’ Slightly panicking, she took a deep breath, ‘Your father worried me,’ she admitted.

‘Did
my dad fall?’ Calmer now, Casey was desperate to know. ‘Did he get killed by the train?’

‘Like I said, I don’t even know if it
was
your dad at the time.’

With heavy heart, Dolly decided she had to get the boy back to his family. ‘Let me take you home, child. Your mother will be so worried.’

‘I haven’t got a mother!’ The words that came out of his mouth shocked him. He
did
have a mother, but
if she didn’t want him, then he didn’t want her.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Dolly suspected he might be lying, but that was not her business. ‘But a while ago you said that you wanted your granddad.’

‘I do.’ Casey was still concerned about his granddad Bob.

‘Of course you do, and he’s bound to worry because he doesn’t know what’s happened to you, does he?’

‘No.’

‘Well, there you are then.
Your granddad will be waiting for you, looking out the window and getting himself into a state. And besides, I’m sure he’ll be able to answer all your questions, because if the police have been to see him like you said, he’ll probably know a great deal more about what happened to your daddy, than I do. Please, Casey, let me take you to him.’

‘Tell me,
was
it my dad who got killed?’

‘I truly
don’t know,’ Dolly answered. ‘All I know is there was a young man on the bridge. He told me he was waiting for a friend and that he would be going to the station to meet him. The next thing I know, I was chastising my little dog, then I heard the train. I turned round and I saw …’ when the image rose in her mind, she took a deep, calming breath, ‘… I saw the young man fall. I did not know he was your
father, and that’s the God’s honest truth.’

Casey knew, though. He knew it in his heart and soul that his dad had been killed by that train. And now something was happening to him. He felt different from before. He wanted to cry but he found he couldn’t. He wasn’t even able to think any more. He felt confused and frightened.

When, unexpectedly, Dolly took him gently into her chubby arms, he
held onto her. He felt safe somehow, although in that moment, nothing seemed to matter any more.

Inside him, there was a strange, sweeping coldness; as though he, too, had died.

When she felt him trembling, Dolly held him close for a while, softly talking to him, reassuring him.

Then he was looking at her, pleading, ‘Please! I want my granddad … I want him now, please.’

His childish plea pierced
her old heart and, as she turned away, the tears threatened. But she would not let herself cry in front of the boy. Not when he was already being so very brave.

‘All right, child. We’ll get you home now, shall we?’

A short time later, they were ready to leave. ‘So, what’s your granddad’s name?’ Dolly had kept on talking, though the boy had lapsed into a deep silence.

Casey gave no answer. Instead,
he waited patiently while she locked the front door. He wanted his dad. He needed to see him, and talk with him, and play the guitar. But his mother had broken the guitar, and his dad was gone. Why did he go? Why did he leave me?

So many questions, and no answers.

The police car was just pulling up outside, after a message had come through from the station.

When Dolly and Casey turned from
the front door they saw the police approaching.

‘Don’t worry, child,’ she said, holding onto Casey. ‘They’re here to help, that’s all. I expect your granddad sent them to find you.’