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

Without a word, Joseph sat himself in the chair, his face grey with pain as he imparted the news to the younger man. ‘Davie’s gone. He ran away.’ Before Don could speak, he went on hurriedly, ‘Tom said he took it real bad. Y’see, Davie’s mammy died in his arms. Afterwards, he just leaped off the wagon and ran into the woods. The police were out after him and everything, but he was never found, and he’s not been in contact since, apart from a letter he wrote before he went away. I’ve kept it, Don. Happen it’ll give you some peace of mind. He came to his mammy’s funeral too, but that was the last we saw of him.’

The old chap ran a hand over his eyes. ‘There have been times when I’ve driven myself crazy worrying about him, but summat tells me he’s all right, and I have to believe that.’ His voice broke. ‘I have to believe it!’

Don was already up on his feet. ‘Five years!’ Beginning to pace the floor, he swung round, his eyes wild with grief. ‘My God! He’s been gone these five long years, and you say you’ve not heard from him in all that time?’

Joseph felt the guilt of it all. ‘Not a word. I blame myself. If I hadn’t asked his mammy to leave my house, the lad would still be here … and happen she would, an’ all.’ That thought would haunt him for ever.

Pacing the floor, Don tried to think as Davie would. ‘Why in God’s name would he run off? He must have been devastated! I can’t understand why he didn’t come home! With his mammy gone, he needed you more than ever.’ He growled, ‘He needed me too, and I wasn’t there for him! Why didn’t he contact me?’

Joseph tried to pacify him, like he had tried to pacify himself all this time, but it was not easy. ‘Davie’s a strong, capable lad, with a mind of his own. He’s eighteen now, making a new life for himself somewhere. He’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. Aw, look, don’t fret yerself. You know your own son; you know how proud and independent he can be. Time and again I’ve asked myself why he’d rather run away than come home to me, his grandad. Happen it’s because he’s never forgiven me … and, it has to be said, happen he’s never forgiven you for leaving. But he will, Don. One day he’ll forgive and then he’ll be back, you mark my words.’

There was no consoling the younger man. ‘I should never have left. I just gave up and walked away, leaving my own wife and child. What was I thinking? Rita needed my help, not for me to desert her. Oh, my darling girl.’ He sobbed. ‘And my poor boy. I deserted him when he needed me the most.’ Believing that it was he who had shattered the family apart, Don was desolate.

‘What will you do?’

‘What can I do?’ Don’s initial reaction was to go after him – to leave now, this very minute – but common sense took over. ‘I’d go in search of him, but where would I start? You say the police never found him, and you’ve had no word of where he was headed – so if they couldn’t find him, what chance do I have?’ He threw out his arms in a gesture of helplessness. ‘God knows, I would scour the country inside and out, but there’s no guarantee that I’d ever meet up with him.’

Joseph agreed sadly. ‘No, son. There’s no guarantee that you’d find him, and if you did, would he thank you for it? No. Your boy will come home when he’s good and ready. And besides, you look done in. You’re not fit to traipse the country. You’ve come back to learn that your wife’s lying in the churchyard and your son’s run off. For now, that’s more than enough for any man to take in.’

Crossing the room, he clamped his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. ‘Give yourself time,’ he pleaded. ‘You mustn’t drive yourself into the ground. Try and live with what you’ve learned, before you even think of taking off again.’

Don was torn. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he murmured. ‘Wherever Davie is, he might need me. And I need him, Joseph … like never before.’

‘So you mean to go in search of him, do you?’

Don shrugged. ‘I think I owe him that much, at least.’

‘Look, son, think about it. Don’t rush into anything. Stay here and take it easy for a time. Will you do that … for me?’

Something in the timbre of the old man’s voice made Don realise what agonies his father-in-law must have gone through. Now, when he looked up, he felt the raw pain in the other man’s eyes and the guilt was tenfold. ‘All right,’ he said tenderly. ‘I’ll do what you said. It makes sense, and I promise I’ll think about it. All right?’

Joseph’s eyes were bright with tears. ‘Thank you, son. It will be so good to have you near.’ On impulse, he threw his arms round Don’s neck. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. ‘Never a day or a minute has gone by, when I haven’t missed all of you … so desperately.’

A few minutes later, the two men left to walk the short distance to the churchyard.

When they got there, Joseph stayed back while Don went to his wife’s resting place. Here, he fell to his knees and stroked the name on the headstone, all the while softly talking. Throughout the half-hour he knelt there, he sobbed helplessly, grew angry at what she had done, and then he begged forgiveness for leaving them behind. Then, getting up, he paced about, not knowing which way to turn or what to do for the best, and finally, he made his peace with her.

Stronger of heart, he returned to where Joseph was waiting. ‘I’m ready to go home now, Dad,’ he said quietly, and that’s what they did.

In the evening, Don bathed and afterwards changed into some of his old clothes, which Joseph had kept. Later, the two men sat by the fire, talking and reminiscing.

Don confirmed his promise to Joseph. ‘I’ve been giving it more thought,’ he told him, ‘and you’re right. If I were to leave now, and spend the rest of my life searching for Davie, there would still be no guarantee that I would ever find him.’

He had plans, though. ‘I’ll go and have a word with the authorities and see what they have on their files. You never know, there might be a clue as to where he could be.’

Joseph was visibly relieved. ‘I’m glad you’re thinking that way, and not taking off again,’ he commented. ‘Matter o’ fact, if you were to go out looking for the lad, he might well make his way back, just as you have done, and then you won’t be here to welcome him home.’

‘So, I’ll stay awhile … if you’ll have me?’

Joseph put up his hands in horror. ‘We’ll have none of that!’ he assured him. ‘This is your home for as long as you want it – Davie’s too.’

‘I think you’re right when you say Davie will be back.’ Don had convinced himself of it. ‘I’ll get a job. I’ll work hard, and save all I can. I’ll give myself time to breathe, and if Davie still hasn’t come home, I’ll go after him. Meanwhile, I’ll build a new life for all of us. What d’you say to that?’

Joseph laughed out loud. ‘I say that’s bloody wonderful!’

At long last the awful loneliness was over, and with two of them praying for Davie’s return, who knew? Yes! With Don’s homecoming, the old man really felt as though he had turned the corner.

Sadly, Rita was gone. But Don was here, and now Joseph was convinced that Davie would not be far behind. ‘I reckon we should celebrate!’

With that he scurried off to the corner shop, in search of ‘summat to warm the cockles’!

Chapter Fourteen (#ulink_5ac6de6c-d5f6-528d-8e60-f41bbf307ab4)

ALREADY, THE MAKEPEACE family were up and about, with Tom out grooming his shire-horse and his wife, Beth, pegging out the washing on this clear November Saturday; her tuneless voice uplifted in song and the dog whining at her feet.

Having tolerated it for the best part of five minutes, Tom could bear it no longer. ‘For pity’s sake, woman, will you stop that screeching. The poor dog will be a shivering wreck by the time you’ve finished!’ All the same, he couldn’t help but smile. He knew how she loved to torment the hound, and what was worse, unlike himself, the ‘hound’ seemed to relish every merciless minute of it.

‘You get on with what you’re doing.’ Beth feigned indignation. ‘Me and the mutt enjoy our morning song.’

‘Huh!’ Tom spoke directly to the horse, which seemed oblivious to everything but the juicy hay hanging from its teeth. “‘Morning song” is it?’ He sniggered. ‘More like the sound of all hell let loose, if you ask me!’

Through her bedroom window, Judy heard it all. Scrambling out of bed, she went to the window, opened it and called down, ‘Who’s being murdered?’

‘What d’you mean?’ Beth looked up. ‘You’re as bad as your father. No sense of music at all, the pair of you.’ Collecting a bedsheet out of the basket, she put two pegs between her lips and at once order was restored; the screeching stopped and the dog rolled over at her feet in a fit of exhaustion.

‘Thank God for that.’ Tom was greatly relieved.

‘You’d miss me if I wasn’t here to sing you a lullaby.’ Taking the pegs out of her mouth, Beth used them to secure the sheet to the clothes-line.

‘Don’t count on it,’ he replied, though he felt a shiver of fear at the idea of her not being around. He had wooed Beth when they were both in their late teens, and they’d been together ever since. The thought that there might come a day when she wasn’t at his side, was unthinkable.

‘Your breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.’ Taking up the clothes prop, she lifted the washing-line to catch the breeze.

‘Any chance of an extra slice o’ bacon this morning?’ Tom peered out of the stable to see her going across the yard, a plump figure with a few strands of grey in her hair, but a pretty thing all the same.

‘No chance at all,’ she replied. ‘You’ll get one slice and think yourself lucky.’

Having witnessed the conversation, Judy dashed downstairs and promptly threw another couple of slices into the frying-pan. She knew all too well how her parents loved to tease each other.

Having left her clothes-basket by the back door, Beth came into the kitchen to check on the breakfast cooking. ‘Morning, lass.’ As always, her smile was bright and cheerful. ‘You’re up early for a Saturday.’ Glancing at the wall clock, she noted it was still only eight-thirty. ‘Couldn’t sleep, eh?’

‘No, Mam.’ The girl tried hard to keep a straight face. ‘I had this terrible nightmare.’

‘Aw, pet.’ Beth was quickly across the room, her chubby arms outstretched to give her daughter a hug. ‘Bad, was it?’

‘Oh, Mam, it was just awful.’ Keeping her composure, Judy returned her mother’s embrace. ‘There was this noise … a kind of unearthly wailing. I thought the devil himself was after me.’

And then she was laughing, and her mother too. ‘You little sod, you!’ Thrusting her away, Beth chided, ‘You and your father have no appreciation of a good voice.’ With that she grabbed the kettle, filled it with water and put it on the gas ring. ‘Your dad wants a couple more slices of bacon.’