The Loner

CHAPTER THREE

ON LEAVING THE house, Davie did not look back. With his mother leaning heavily on his arm and stumbling at every turn, he threaded his way through the familiar streets of Blackburn, his heart frozen with shock at the night’s events and his mind swamped with all manner of torment.

He suspected his grandfather had been watching from the window, and he knew how bad he must be feeling. From past experience and having been on the receiving end of the old man’s kindness countless times, he knew the calibre of the man, knew how it went against Joseph’s loving nature, to have thrown his own daughter out onto the streets. Davie readily forgave his grandfather. He did not want Joseph to feel guilty, because he had always done right by Rita. Over the years, he had done right by them all.

Twice the old man had taken the whole family in; once, a few years back, when a little business Don had set up after the war, had gone bust, and then again, more recently, when Rita had squandered the rent money and they were evicted. Most of her own wages and tips went on drink and cigarettes, these days.

Through it all, Joseph had supported them. No man could have done more for his family. And who could blame him for turning her away? The neverending fights and arguments had tired the old chap to the bone.

‘Where are we going, Mam?’ The boy knew she was hurt and he was anxious. ‘Maybe we should go straight to Doctor Arnold’s house? He’ll be up by now.’

But Rita would have none of it. ‘I’m not going to no bloody quack!’ she retorted. ‘We’ll pay a call on a good friend of mine. Jack will help us, I know he will.’ She chuckled fruitily. ‘Lord knows, I’ve done him enough favours in the past.’

She instructed her son to head for Penny Street. ‘Third house on the right – number six, as I recall.’ She gave a deep sigh. Her whole body was becoming numb. ‘Once we’ve rested, we’ll get away from Blackburn Town and never come back.’ There was hatred in her voice. ‘If I never see that old bugger, or your father again, it’ll be too soon.’

As they went slowly towards Penny Street, her footsteps dragging, she slurred, ‘My Jack’s an obliging fellow. He’ll not turn us away.’

But turn them away he did.

When they got to number six, the lights were out. ‘Jack!’ Rita’s voice sliced the morning air. ‘It’s me… Rita.’ Banging on the door, she yelled through the letterbox, ‘The old sod’s chucked me out on the streets and I’ve nowhere to go. Let me in, Jack! I’ve got my boy with me. I’m hurt. I need to rest…a few days, that’s all. Then I’ll be gone and I’ll not bother you again.’

Suddenly, the door was flung open. ‘For chrissake, you silly cow, will you shut up!’ Sleepy-eyed and unshaven, the man was bare to the waist. ‘What the devil d’you think you’re doing, banging on my door this time of the morning! Clear off and bother somebody else. I want no truck with you!’

‘Send the old slag on her way!’ a woman instructed, shouting from the upper reaches of the house. ‘If you don’t, I will!’ Her harsh mutterings could be clearly heard. ‘Thought I wouldn’t find out about the pair of you, did you? Worse than the dogs in the street, you are, carrying on the minute I’m away to see my poor sick sister…Now I’m warning you, get rid of her, or I swear I’ll have her eyes out!’

Half-closing the door, the man called Jack lowered his voice. ‘Jesus! She’ll be scrambling her clothes on to come and face yer,’ he warned Rita. ‘She can be a right bastard when the mood takes her. Soonever she got back from her sister’s, the neighbours couldn’t wait to tell her about us.’ He shifted his attention to Davie. ‘Sorry, son, but it’s been murder, trying to stop her from coming after your mam. You’d best take her away, and the quicker the better. There’s nothing for you here.’

When Rita refused to leave, the man rounded on her with a vengeance. ‘For God’s sake, Rita, take a look at yourself. What the hell are you thinking of, wandering the streets at this time of a Saturday morning with this young lad in tow? Have you no shame at all?’ He felt guilty. ‘Aw, look, I know we had a bit of a fling, but you mean nowt to me…I told you that from the start. We had our fun and now it’s over.’

‘She’d best not be there when I get down the stairs!’ His wife’s angry voice sailed from the rafters.

Afraid of the consequences if his wife should suddenly burst in on them, he hastily pushed Davie aside. ‘Get her away from here. Go on! Make yourselves scarce, the pair of you.’ Desperate to be rid of them, he slammed shut the door.

As they went away, Davie and his mam could hear the argument raging inside. ‘Let go of me! She needs a damned good leathering, and so do you! I can’t believe you took that dirty slut to our bed the minute my back was turned. Christ Almighty! She must have been with every bloke in Blackburn.’

Davie tried to block his ears, but the voices followed them down Penny Street. The postman stopped to listen, curtains twitched, and a dog in a nearby house began to bark.

‘If I had any sense I’d pack my bags and be out that bloody door!’ The wife raved on. ‘Another feather in her cap, that’s all you are. She’s trash, that Rita Adams. She’ll flutter her eyelashes and the blokes’ll gladly tip up the price of a drink for a knee-trembler wi’ that one down a dark alley. Fools, the lot of ’em! An’ I thought you were different, our Jack, but you’re just like the rest of ’em, a dirty dog sniffin’ after a bitch on heat.’ There was a muffled cry before she was shouting again, ‘Let go of me. I’ll have the skin off her back when I catch up with her.’

‘I was sure he’d help us.’ Rita sank onto the nearest doorstep, her face deathly white and her limbs all atremble. ‘I really thought I meant sum-mat to him.’ Out of all the men she had slept with, Jack had been the special one, or so she thought. He had really listened to her, bought her small gifts, seemed to be her friend.

Gathering her strength, and holding onto her son, she carefully hoisted herself up. ‘Make for the church, love.’ Her head on his shoulder, she urged him on. ‘They’ll not turn us away.’ The smallest of smiles crept over her features. ‘We’ll rest there for a while, and then we’ll think what to do.’

‘It’s too far, Mam.’ Davie could see how that tumbledown the stairs had really hurt her, and now this humiliating rejection seemed to have taken the heart out of her altogether. He was ashamed of what she had become, could have sat down and cried at the pity of it all. How she could have given herself to that married man Jack, when she had his own lovely father, Don, was a mystery to him.

‘What about your other friends?’ he asked kindly. ‘Couldn’t we go to one of them?’

‘I lied, son,’ she confessed. Unable to look him in the eye, she hung her head. ‘There are no friends. There’s just you and me.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘Nobody wanted to know me when I was your age.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Even at school, I always found it difficult to make friends.’

In that revealing moment, she saw herself as she really was, that quiet, lonely girl from a troubled background, the daughter of an unstable woman, and now, herself, a wife who time and again had cheated on a good man and brought trouble to her own doorstep.

‘You mustn’t blame your grandad for throwing us out,’ she told Davie. ‘You hardly knew your grandma, but she was a difficult woman.’ She shuddered as the rain predicted by the weather-forecaster began to fall. ‘Your poor grandad had a lot to put up with, all those years ago, and when he saw me going the same way as her, he couldn’t bear it.’ Shame flooded her soul. How could she have let herself follow blindly in her mother’s footsteps?

She raised her gaze and looked at her son, made to bear a heavier burden than young shoulders should ever carry. ‘I’m sorry, Davie…’ She could say no more, for now she was sobbing, all the pent-up grief of the years being released, and he was holding her, and she felt more comforted than she had ever been in her whole life.

‘It’s all right, Mam,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll take care of you now.’

Together they went along Addison Street and through the empty marketplace, and now as they cut along towards Church Lane, he asked her if she was all right. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she answered brightly. ‘You’ll see, once I’ve had a proper rest and time to sort it all out, I’ll be off again like a spring lamb, and you won’t be able to keep up with me.’ But her sight was growing dim, and the numbness was creeping up her body.

Not altogether reassured, Davie crooked his arm round her waist and pressed on, the rain soaking through their clothes and slowing down their progress.

They were entering the spinney when one of Rita’s dragging feet got caught in the bracken; as she lurched forward, Davie was taken with her, rolling down the incline and into a shallow ditch, where she made no move to get up. ‘I’m hurt,’ she gasped. ‘You’ll have to leave me, Davie. Go and get help…Hurry, Davie. Get help.’

At first he tried to lift her, to get her to safety and out of the cold and rain. But the more he tried, the harder she fought.

‘No, my lovely. Leave me be.’ She had the strangest feeling; the pain had gone and she was in another place. But her son was here, and he was frightened. She roused herself. ‘Get help, Davie,’ she repeated. ‘Quickly!’ And then she was silent and he was frantic, and as he struggled to raise her into his arms, she gave a shudder that chilled his heart. In that moment, he was mortally afraid.

Laying her gently down, he took off his coat and draped it over her. ‘Stay still, Mam,’ he sobbed. ‘I’ll run as fast as I can, and I’ll be back before you know it.’ Ducking his head against the rain, he ran up the bank, down through the spinney and out into the lane.

As he ran, a kind of dread stole over him, making him weep unashamedly. Desperate for help, he hurriedly wiped away the tears with the cuff of his shirt-sleeve. ‘Can anyone hear me? My mother’s hurt. We need help!’ Yelling at the top of his voice, he could hear the animals scuttling in fright all about him, and when, breathless, he broke through the trees, he paused to search both ways along the winding lane, but there was no one to be seen.

Taking to his heels, he began running, suddenly pausing again when he thought he heard a sound in the distance. For a minute he couldn’t make it out, but then he recognised the clippety-clop of horse’s hooves, and to his immense relief, saw the familiar milk-cart rounding the bend. ‘Tom? Tom, stop. It’s me, Davie!’

Drawing on the last of his strength, he raced towards the cart, his heart at bursting point as he prayed to God above for his mammy to be all right.

‘What the devil’s going on, lad?’ Tom drew the cart to a halt, while Davie was bent double, gasping and crying, and telling Tom how he needed help and that his mammy was badly hurt.

‘All right, I hear you.’ He patted the seat beside him. ‘Climb up here. You can tell me about it as we go.’

Dishevelled and in a state of panic, Davie wasn’t making too much sense as he clambered onto the wagon. ‘We went to the man and he told us to clear off, and there was nowhere else to go and we were making for the church…then she fell and I couldn’t get her up. Hurry, Tom. Please hurry!’

‘Calm down, lad, take it easy. We’ll see she’s all right.’ Sending the horse into a trot, the little man kept his eyes on the ruts and dips in the lane. ‘What’s happened?’ He needed to know. ‘It’s your mam you say? Last time I saw her, she was heading home, a bit the worse for wear, but fine enough. She should have been back hours ago. What in God’s name were you doing out here, the pair of you?’

But Davie wasn’t listening. He was hellbent on getting to his mother, and realising this, Tom concentrated on the way ahead. ‘How far?’

‘Here!’ Suddenly they were at the point where Davie had broken through from the woods. ‘She’s down there.’

Before the horse had slowed down, Davie was already jumping off the side of the wagon. ‘We have to get her home as soon as we can,’ he gabbled. ‘Grandad threw us out but he’ll take her back now, I know he will.’ That said, he was away and into the woods, calling Tom’s name as he went. ‘Quick, Tom, this way! She’s in here.’

From some way behind, Tom followed, his mind full of questions. How had this come to pass? Davie said his grandad had thrown them out. Dear mother of God, why would Joseph do such a thing? But then again, hadn’t it been on the cards, and wouldn’t Tom himself have been tempted to do the same thing if his daughter had turned out to be such a bad lot…giving herself to all and sundry and making a mockery of her hardworking husband. Any other man would have shown her the door long ago.

As he hurried after the boy, Tom decided that the questions would have to wait. There were more important things to attend to now. Poor Rita was hurt and she needed help. For now, that was all that mattered.

A few minutes later, his face torn by overhanging branches and his ankles sore where the thorns and bracken had proved a hindrance, Tom was shocked to see Davie’s mammy lying crumpled in a shallow ditch. ‘Step aside, lad.’ Falling to his knees beside her in the wet leaves, he took hold of her hand, taken aback by how cold she was. In the slimmest shaft of light filtering through the umbrella of trees, he saw how pale and still she lay. ‘We’d best get her out quick.’ His quiet, decisive manner gave Davie a sense of calm, and hope. But not peace of mind. Too much had happened this night. Too many bad memories would follow him, and he thought he would never again know peace of mind.

Between the two of them, they set about getting her up, and when she cried out, they stopped to give her a moment. ‘Shh now. It’s all right,’ Tom reassured her. ‘You’re safe. We’ve got you.’

All the same, it was a slow and painful operation, but at last they had her out and up on her feet, albeit unsteadily. ‘Crook your arm under hers,’ Tom instructed. ‘She’s in no fit state to take her own weight, and I can’t get the wagon down here, so we’ll have to carry her out the best we can.’

As they took her step by careful step towards the lane, she dragged her feet and murmured incoherently, and as the horse snickered, sensing something amiss, they lifted her gently onto the bench set into the back of the wagon. ‘There’s a rug under the driver’s seat. Fetch it, will you, lad?’ Tom grunted.

While Davie went to get the rug, Tom made Rita comfortable. ‘It’s no good taking her back to your grandad’s house,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s the Infirmary she needs.’

Davie gave no reply. Instead he sat beside his mother while Tom tucked the blanket around her. When she began shivering uncontrollably, Davie held her closer, trying to warm her, intent on making her safe.

‘Right, that should do it.’ Tom nodded. ‘Keep her as still as you can,’ he said as he climbed down. ‘We don’t know what injury she suffered when she fell.’

Thankful that soon they would be on their way, Davie glanced down, astonished to see his mother looking straight back at him. The rain had stopped, and in the brightness of a new day, her eyes were incredibly beautiful. ‘I’m sorry, Davie,’ she said. ‘You’re a good boy.’ She then gave him a look of absolute love. ‘And I have been a bad mother. A bad…mother. Don’t hate…’ Her voice faded away.

Davie felt her convulse in his arms, and then she was still, her wide eyes still turned on him, and in that moment he knew. But he could not accept the truth, and in his overwhelming sorrow, he screamed out for Tom to help her. ‘HURRY! WE HAVE TO GO NOW! Hurry…oh, please hurry, Tom.’ The rending sobs tore through him and he couldn’t speak any more. Instead, he held her close, the scalding tears running down his face and onto hers. ‘Don’t go, Mam. Don’t leave me…’

Tom drew the milk-cart to a halt and turned round. He saw, and it broke his heart.

‘She’s gone, lad.’ Inching close, he took hold of the boy’s arm. ‘There’s nothing we can do for her now.’ Tremulously reaching out, he placed his fingers over the dead woman’s sightless eyes and closed them. ‘Come away, son,’ he urged softly. ‘It’s out of our hands now. We’ll take your mammy where they’ll look after her. They’ll know what to do…’

Suddenly startled when the boy leaped off the wagon and sped into the woods, Tom called after him, ‘No, Davie! Come back, lad!’

Time and again, Tom called after him, but Davie was quickly gone, and Tom was afraid this might be the last he would ever see of him. ‘COME HOME TO THE FARM WHEN YOU’RE READY.’ He cupped his hands over his mouth. ‘MY HOME IS YOURS. I’LL BE THERE WHENEVER YOU NEED ME, DAVIE.’ His voice fell. ‘I’ll always be here for you, son. You must never forget that.’

With a heavy heart he returned to cover Rita’s face. ‘The lad’s tekking it hard,’ he murmured as he wound her into the blanket. ‘It don’t matter what badness you’ve done, lady, he can’t help but love you.’ He made the sign of the cross over her, and prayed that she might find a kind of peace elsewhere, for she had found none on this earth.

As he climbed into the seat, he stole another glance into the trees, but there was no sign of Davie, and no reply when he called his name. Licking his wounds, poor little bugger! Oh, but he’ll be back, God willing. You’ll see, when he’s all cried out, he’ll turn up at the farm, looking for his friends. And we’ll be there to help him through.

Drawing a long deep breath through his nose, he held it for a while, before the words eased out on the crest of a sigh. ‘He’ll come back.’ He turned his head to look on the dark shadow that lay in the back of his cart. ‘I can only promise you, that when the lad does come home, we’ll take care of him.’

Davie had a special place in his own family’s affections. Since toddlers, Davie and Tom’s own daughter, Judy, had played together, sharing every experience that youngsters share – learning to ride the ponies; chasing the rabbits into the hedge-rows; laughing at secret nothings that no mere adult can ever understand, and as they grew and blossomed so did their friendship until they were virtually inseparable.

‘Come home, son,’ he murmured. ‘Come home, where you belong.’

Slowly shaking his head in despair, he clicked the old horse on; this time at a sedate and dignified pace.

After all, with the way things were, there was no hurry now.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘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.