Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

‘Right then, Dorothy, lass.’ Starting the engine, Jasper urged her on. ‘Let’s see what yer med of!’

It was a stuttering take-off, and when the little car leapt over the bumps in the road, Rosie twice banged her head and wouldn’t stop laughing. Kathy found herself doubled up, and Jasper accidentally put his foot on the brake, sending them forward to within an inch of the windscreen. ‘Will yer look at that?’ he shouted. ‘I allus knew Dorothy was a goer!’

As they went off down the street, the sound of their laughter echoed from the walls. And though she had not intended it, Kathy found herself laughing until the tears fell. It was the first time she had laughed like that since before Tom left.

Arriving in Bridport, Jasper had three goes at trying to park. The first was when his front tyre went up the kerb and they all fell to one side and couldn’t get out.

The second time he was moved on by an irate householder with a yard-broom who chased them all the way down the street, yelling at the top of her voice, ‘Be off, and take that ugly monstrosity with you!’

When finally he got parked and they all tumbled out, Kathy realised they were right outside the café that Mabel’s husband owned. She couldn’t understand it. The place was closed down.

While Jasper was locking up his precious ‘Dorothy’, she spoke to a passer-by, who told her, ‘His wife left him, then he went off with some floozy. Mind you, he won’t get much money for that place. It’s not been the same since poor Mabel moved away.’

Kathy nodded. She had heard how that bully of a husband of hers was not doing so well, especially since the news got out of how he beat poor Mabel senseless. Serves him right, she thought. I hope the floozy gives him a run for his money.

After travelling for most of the day, Tom was on the last leg of his journey.

Disembarking from the train in Weymouth, he glanced up at the station clock. It was already quarter to five. He had a half-hour wait for the bus and another half-hour journey before he got into West Bay. The one and only thing on his mind right now was Kathy.

When the bus arrived he climbed on board, gave the conductor the required fare and took his ticket with thanks.

Hitching his ticket-machine higher up his shoulder, the conductor walked on, stopping at each seat to see if there was anyone else wanting a ticket. When there wasn’t, he came and sat down opposite Tom, eyes closed and for all the world looking like he might be having a crafty kip.

Tom smiled. The poor bloke looks done in, he thought. So when they stopped to collect more passengers, and he spied the familiar uniform of a bus inspector, he gently tapped the conductor on the leg. ‘Time to wake up,’ he whispered, and by the time the inspector got on board the conductor was wide awake and tending to his duties ‘like a good ’un’, as Jasper might have said.

When the bus stopped at West Bay, the inspector got off just before Tom. ‘Thanks for that, mate,’ the conductor told him. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, he’d have caught me good and proper.’

Tom told him it was no problem, and that he was glad to have been of help.

When the bus moved off, Tom was still standing there, his gaze reaching across the street to Barden House. For a time he savoured the sight of the house. In his mind’s eye, he could see Kathy lying on the rug in front of the fire, and his heart leapt.

Quickly now, he made his way past the harbour and across the road, the sweet, salty tang of sea air filling his nostrils. Oh, but it was good, he thought.

At long last, he was home – and soon, thank God, he and Kathy could begin to make plans.

Inside the house, Kathy was alone; just as Tom had pictured her, she was lying across the rug in front of the fire, fascinated by the bright, leaping flames as they danced and wove themselves into a frenzy.

Tom was never far from her thoughts and now, as she wondered about him, she made a decision. ‘I’ll call him in the morning,’ she murmured softly. ‘I miss him so much. I need to hear his voice. I need to tell him how much I love him. I won’t tell him about Samantha, not yet. I’ll just ask him to come home as soon as he can. I need him here, with me.’

Coming up the path, Tom saw that the curtains were open. Stepping onto the lawn, he peeped through the window. There she was, arms folded beneath her head and her face turned towards the fire. He smiled. ‘As I thought,’ he whispered, ‘just the same.’ There was something very comforting in that.

He knocked on the front door.

It was a moment before she answered.

The door opened and there she was, silhouetted in the soft light coming from the hallway; a small, familiar figure, sending a rush of contentment through his senses. In the background he could hear a song from the film, Singin’ in the Rain, playing on the wireless.

‘Hello, darling.’ His voice was soft, his eyes adoring. ‘You look wonderful!’ In the pale blue dress with white collar and fitted waist, she seemed so young, he thought, so vulnerable.

For a brief second she stared through the semi-darkness, her eyes taking in his face, a momentary look of confusion in her gaze. ‘TOM!’ Suddenly she was in his arms, and he was swinging her round. ‘Oh, Tom, thank God you’re back!’

Laughing and crying, she held him by the hand and led him inside. It had been the worst time of her entire life, but now that Tom was here everything would be all right.

Standing there, the room wrapping its warmth about them, tight in each other’s arms, they held each other close. For a time they were silent, just content being together. The light was dimmed, the fire crackled, and they were so much in love. There was no need for words.

In that precious moment, it was as though they had been through the darkness of a long frightening adventure, and now they were through it together, still safe, more in love than ever.

There was a need in them, a deep, trembling need that would not be held back any longer. Momentarily releasing her, he crossed the room and quietly closed the curtains, shutting out the night and its prying eyes.

She waited, her heart fast with anticipation, her eyes following his every move, until he was back with her, kissing her on the forehead, on the mouth, down the curve of her neck. And she, with uplifted face, offered herself to him.

Reaching down, his dark eyes enveloping her, he slid her dress away, then her undergarments, gasping with amazement as he unfolded her nakedness. ‘You’re so beautiful!’

Discarding his own garments, he drew her down to the rug, the heat from the fire playing on the skin of his back as he leaned over her. ‘I love you,’ he murmured, his face so close to hers she could imagine herself melting into those dark eyes and being lost for ever.

Now, as he entered her, she clung to him, afraid he might be disappointed in her, afraid he might not find her to be the woman he believed she was. But she need not have worried, for she was everything his heart desired.

The lovemaking was not a frantic thing, nor was it soon over. This was another adventure, a most beautiful, wonderful experience: discovering each other’s bodies, touching, exploring; the exquisite binding of two lonely, desperate souls.

It was the long-awaited realisation of a love that had grown from the heart and was now blossoming to fulfilment.

When it was over, they lay there, content in each other’s arms, eyes closed, faces uplifted, their glistening bodies gently washed over by the heat from the fire.

They lay there for a while, side by side, with Kathy rolled against him, her arm over the expanse of his chest. Drawing her close, Tom stroked her arm, his senses lulled by the smooth softness of her skin, and the gentle rhythmic warmth of her breath against his neck.

Some time later, when they were dressed, he brought her a drink and they sat together, talking of their love, making plans. As yet, neither of them was ready to break the moment by revealing the darker things on their minds, of jealousy and murder, and all those things that have no place in a quiet heart.

Yet, at some time, they had to be said.

After a while, he held her at arm’s length. ‘I telephoned you a few times,’ he revealed. ‘I left messages, but you never rang back.’

Dropping her gaze, she answered, ‘There is something I have to tell you. You know my sister, Samantha, came to see me.’

Tom nodded. ‘Of course, she was here when I left for London.’

‘She wanted to take this house from me. She said Father should have left it to her, because she was the eldest.’

Tom knew now why she hadn’t called him. He had sensed the tension between the two women, and now he knew the cause of it. ‘And you didn’t call me because you knew I’d be straight back on the next train, is that it?’

Kathy nodded, taking a moment to break the awful news to him, her voice trembling. ‘Something happened,’ she whispered. ‘Something terrible!’

‘What do you mean?’

The horror of it all was overwhelming. Kathy shook her head, unable for a moment to go on. Even now she had not come to terms with the sudden, terrible way in which Samantha had died.

Taking her gently by the shoulders, Tom softly urged her, ‘Go on, darling. What happened? Tell me.’

And so she told him about how Samantha had refused to leave until Kathy had signed papers that would give her half the value of the house, that she and Samantha had fallen out over the whole issue, and that she had asked Samantha to leave that day he had left for London, but she wouldn’t. ‘It was just after you’d gone, dark, pouring with rain,’ she explained. ‘Samantha had started out to the pub. She just grabbed my coat and went.’ She paused, swallowing hard, her hand shaking as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. ‘She never got there. They came to tell me.’ Her voice broke. ‘She … oh, Tom!’