Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 2: The Loner, Born Bad, Three Letters

Beth made her and Judy a mug of cocoa. ‘There y’are, lass.’ She placed the drink and a slab of fruit cake in front of Judy, who was sitting at the table, looking forlorn. ‘Come on now, love,’ Beth said. ‘Davie’s a strong, sensible young man. Wherever he is, I’m sure you’ll find he’ll come to no harm. Now, drink your cocoa, there’s a good girl, then you must get yourself ready for bed. It’s been a long day today, and we’ve a hard day ahead of us tomorrow, what with having to help round up the sheep and a load of other jobs. Your daddy will need all the help he can get.’

They had just finished their cocoa as Tom walked in the door. ‘That blessed fox is about again!’ he grumbled. ‘It’s already had two o’ my chickens … best layers an’ all! By! I nearly had him just now.’ He shook his fist in the air. ‘If I ever get close enough, he’ll feel the heat of my shotgun up his backside an’ no mistake!’

Red-faced from the chase he fell into a chair, thanking Beth when she handed him a freshly made cup of milky cocoa.

‘Get that down you,’ she advised with a chuckle. ‘Chasing after foxes, in the dark an’ all, it’s a wonder you didn’t go head over heels in the dungheap. What’s more, you’re too slow an’ heavy in the belly to go running after foxes and the like. They must be sittin’ laughin’ at you, Tom Makepeace.’

‘What’s that, woman?’ he asked indignantly. ‘Are you saying I could do with losing some weight?’ He took a huge bite of his cake.

Beth cocked a snook. ‘If the cap fits,’ she said wryly with a mischevious glint in her eye.

Judy was the first to go to bed. ‘Good night, my beauty.’ Tom hated seeing her so quiet; it wasn’t in her nature.

‘Good night, love.’ Beth held her a moment longer. ‘Remember what I said … you’re not to fret about young Davie. He’ll be all right, you mark my words.’ All the same, she too was worried. He was only a boy, after all.

‘Good night, Mam … Dad.’ Judy kissed them both and headed off upstairs.

An hour or so later, lying in bed, her mind filled with thoughts of Davie, Judy heard her parents going into their room. ‘Ssh! Pick your feet up, man,’ Beth chastised her husband when he tripped over the mat. ‘We don’t want to wake the lass.’

Judy smiled when she heard her father arguing with Beth as to why she’d put a fringed mat on top of the landing. ‘Every blummen night, I trip over that damned mat.’

‘Will you give over with your moaning!’ Beth retaliated. ‘That mat’s been sat there these past six years, and nobody but you has tripped over it yet.’

With Davie strong in her mind, Judy couldn’t sleep. Climbing out of bed, she went across the room to perch on the windowseat. She would sit here for an age when her thoughts were troubled, and they had never been more troubled than they were tonight. Of all the forces of Nature, it was the sky that seemed to soothe and embrace her; day and night she never ceased to marvel at its changing moods. There was something especially beautiful about the autumn sky tonight; moody and magical, bathed in soft moonlight, it seemed more haunting than she could ever remember.

But then, Judy Makepeace lived within Nature itself; she walked it and felt it, and her every breath was tuned into it. Her only close female friend, a girl of her own age called Annie, would laugh at her, saying, like Tom and Beth did, that she should have been born a bird or a fish.

While other girls were already dreaming of dating boys and dressing up for Saturday afternoon at the pictures, Judy had never really craved those things. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy them, because she did. Like any other adolescent girl, she liked to look in the shop windows at the latest fashions, and when the boys in the picture-house started flirting and teasing, she would giggle in response. She could give as good as she got, though she would blush to her roots if a boy tried to kiss her.

Once, when her mam and dad took her to a local barn dance, Annie’s older brother Philip had kissed her full on the lips. She had wiped her mouth afterwards, when he wasn’t looking. He made her feel scared, somehow, but she put it down to her own shyness and inexperience.

Life was good, and there were so many things she wanted to do. But always in the forefront of her mind was Davie Adams. If she didn’t have him in her life, nothing would be the same. It was Davie she turned to whenever she needed advice, and it was Davie with whom she loved to walk along the river, or across the fields, or when they were bringing in the hay and it was all hands to the task. He was her hero, and she loved him.

Her love for Davie and the love she felt for her parents was not the same. The strength of love was the same, but it was as though they lived in different parts of her heart. The part where Davie lived had always been there, but now there was something else, a deeper feeling, and she did not know how to deal with it.

There had been moments when she thought she might talk about it to Annie, but something stopped her. She didn’t think the other girl would understand.

Sitting cross-legged on the windowseat, her thoughts shifted to other things. She sat for a time, her eyes closed and her mind going over the day and, after a while, with the sleep beginning to draw her down, she stretched her limbs and eased herself off the seat.

As she stood up to pull the curtains closed, something alerted her, some quick movement down in the yard. Leaning towards the 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.

Chapter Six (#ulink_23af0fc5-253e-5db3-b733-f7c321deeca0)

SETTLING DOWN IN the barn, Davie thought he had caught a glimpse of someone at the window. He wondered if it might be Judy, but he daren’t draw her attention. If he was discovered here, he knew how Tom would want to return him to his grandad, when all he needed was to hide in a quiet place where he could be left alone to think things through.

At first he had thought that maybe he might go and see Tom and thank him for what he had done. But then, as he got closer to the farm, he decided against it. Sometimes, when a kindness was so big between two people who understood each other, saying thanks was far too small and insignificant.

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 whereabouts 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, maybe 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.