Midnight

‘I believe so, yes.’

‘So, she really is wasting her life, then?’

‘No.’ Thomas had a special fondness for these two women. ‘Libby loves taking care of you. You know yourself, she would have it no other way.’

In her mind, Eileen was beginning to drift again.

‘Thirty isn’t old, but it’s not young either, is it, Thomas?’ When she looked away, he felt her pain. ‘It was me who brought that bad man home. I didn’t mean to. I was looking for my Ian. I need him, and Libby needs a father.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘My little girl is thirty, and all these years she’s been without a daddy.’ Her voice broke. ‘And I’ve been without a husband.’ She added gratefully, ‘Oh, I know you’ve been kind to Libby and me, but you’re not her father, are you, Thomas? And she’s thirty already.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’

Thomas smiled. ‘Oh, my! What I wouldn’t give, to be thirty again!’

‘You and me . . .’ Eileen stroked the back of his hand, ‘we’re old, aren’t we, Thomas?’

He laughed out loud. ‘Aw, I don’t know about that.’ While he was well into his late sixties, Eileen was only just sixty. And though at times her mind was broken, she was still an attractive woman, with her high cheekbones and sparkly brown eyes. She had a kind heart and, when her intelligence was not overshadowed, she displayed a bright, appealing sense of humour.

‘D’you really think Libby will find her man? I mean, you’re not just trying to pacify a silly old woman, are you?’

He shook his head. ‘You’re not to worry, sweetheart. Libby will be all right. And you mustn’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve had a lot to contend with.’

She smiled up at him. ‘You know, don’t you?’ she murmured. ‘You understand the way it is.’

‘I do, yes,’ he replied softly. ‘I understand, because I’ve been there.’ He reflected a moment, before going on: ‘Sometimes, when you can’t bear to think about the cruelty of life, you hide inside yourself.’

Eileen was amazed at how Thomas always managed to say the right thing. ‘Is that what I do – hide inside myself ?’ She felt somehow pacified. ‘I never knew that.’

Shifting positions, he sat down beside her. Sliding his arm round her shoulders, he drew her close to him. ‘You’re not the only one, Eileen, love,’ he confided. ‘At some time or another, we all have a need to hide inside ourselves.’

‘Do we really?’ Something in his manner made her curious.

‘Yes, sweetheart, we do.’

She leaned into his embrace. ‘Thomas?’

‘Yes, m’dear?’

‘Do you hide sometimes?’

He smiled, a slow, rueful smile that carried him back over the years. ‘Oh yes. Like I said, we all do.’

‘Why is that, Thomas?’

He took a moment to search for the right words. ‘Well, sometimes, when life gets too hard for me to handle, it helps me to go to a quiet place, somewhere deep inside, where nobody else can follow.’

For reasons he would rather not say, Thomas knew all about that. ‘It’s my own little haven, y’see?’ He glanced down into her upturned brown eyes, and his heart was pained. ‘Are you feeling better now, m’dear?’

Eileen’s smile was beautiful. ‘Yes, thank you, Thomas. You always help me.’

He smiled back. ‘Well, that’s good. I’m always glad to help, as you know. And don’t ever forget, I’m always here for you and Libby. You know that as well, don’t you?’

‘Mmm.’ Already her mind was shifting.

From across the kitchen, Libby heard their conversation. Deeply touched by his genuine kindness, she listened while buttering toast. These two people were not angels, by any means. They each had tempers when riled and they took no prisoners. Yet they were kind and generous, and beautiful in spirit.

Over the years, since she was a little girl, Libby had looked up to Thomas, who had proved to be a great comfort to her mother. Libby had strong affection for this dear man, and the friendship was between Thomas and her mother was a joy to see.

Their innocent chatter made her yearn to have a man of her own. To be making plans for the future. To be someone’s sweetheart. To walk down the aisle, plan a home, and be a mother. And most of all, to share the burden that life had become. And yet, she had coped, because of her deep, abiding love for her mother. No one had wanted this sorry situation, but they still had each other, and the ever-watchful Thomas.

Like Thomas, she understood about that special hiding-place where no one else could follow. Libby had often visited that special place inside herself, to dream and wish and hope. It was a wonderful, brief respite from the way her life had evolved. Though when she came back to reality, nothing had changed. Nothing ever would. But for that short, precious time, when carried along by her imagination, she was free to dream.

In many ways, Libby considered herself blessed. She had her health and strength and so did her mother, apart from her slowly deteriorating mental state; although thankfully, Libby was able to make her days as normal and enjoyable as possible.

The two of them had a pretty home, paid for by the man who later abandoned them. She and her mother were warm and cosy, and they shared a deep bond of love. One way and another, there was enough coming in to feed and clothe them both, even though they had to watch every penny.

Libby often reminded herself that there were many people worse off than them. She counted her blessings. Life threw challenges at you: some you could deal with and some you couldn’t. Life was no easy ride for anyone, she knew that. She also knew that all you could do was to get through the best way you could.

‘Breakfast is ready, Mum. Thomas, would you like some scrambled eggs? I’ve made plenty.’

As the three sat and enjoyed a hearty meal, Eileen began worrying again. She was sad because her darling girl was nearly thirty years old and still not wed. So there were no children or grandchildren to love. Eileen truly believed it was all her fault, even though both Libby and Thomas tried to convince her otherwise.

‘It’s like Thomas said – I just haven’t met the right man yet,’ Libby assured her cheerfully. ‘One day I’ll be filling the shelves in the supermarket, and just like on the TV ads, some handsome fella will pick up the tin of beans I accidentally dropped, and before you know it, I’ll have met my future husband and father of my ten children.’

‘Hey, you’d best not have ten children,’ Eileen teased. ‘I won’t be able to fit them all on my knee!’ But in her more lucid moments, Eileen knew the truth: her daughter had been robbed of marriage and children, and all because of having to look after her.

‘I had a husband,’ Eileen now announced. ‘When we first married, we were so much in love we never needed anyone else. Then we had Libby, and everything was perfect . . . for a time.’ She discreetly wiped away a tear. ‘After we had the baby, my Ian began to change. He was restless – didn’t seem to want us any more. Sometimes he went with other women. I found out and I faced him time and again. He kept saying he loved me, and I had to believe him. I so wanted to believe him!’

A look of despair was etched on her face. ‘In the end I stopped worrying, because I knew I had to put up with it, or lose him. I pretended it wasn’t happening, and we were much happier. Later though, he left me anyway.’

When her voice broke and she began to stare into her teacup, Libby told her, ‘You don’t need to think about all that, Mum. It’s all water under the bridge, and I don’t like you being upset.’

Eileen gave a sad little nod. ‘I have to say it,’ she told her. ‘He’s been gone so long, and I need him here with me! I need answers. I need to ask him why he did it.’ She grew agitated. ‘It must have been my fault. I must have done something wrong.’

This time it was Thomas who intervened, his voice stern but kindly. ‘It was not your fault, my dear. If you think back, you’ll remember how it really was. Your husband did love you – he would have been crazy not to. But he liked to play the field. We all knew that, and we all wondered how you managed to put up with it for so long. The truth is, for whatever reason, he liked other women. One was never enough. You were never enough. His own little daughter Libby was not even enough to keep him faithful. When he left, it was not your fault, Eileen. It was his. You must never forget that.’ It hurt him to see this darling woman so terribly sad.

‘He’s right, Mum.’ Libby agreed with his every word. ‘It’s common knowledge – Father was a womaniser. You stood by him, and yet he still went away, leaving us both behind, and me only six years old. Like Thomas said, it was nothing you did. Dad liked other women. It was just the way he was, that’s all.’

‘Ah, but you never knew about that woman next door, did you?’ As was her way, Eileen suddenly brought the discussion to a different level. ‘Claire Redmond, her name was.’

Libby was intrigued. ‘Yes, I do remember her,’ she confirmed. Sometimes her mother took her completely by surprise.

Thomas recalled the neighbour in question – a loose woman who liked other men, even before her husband died. ‘What was her son’s name, now . . . ?’ he pondered. ‘Jim? Joe? Oh, goodness! My memory’s getting worse by the minute.’

‘Jack!’ Libby’s voice rang out. She had not forgotten him and never would. ‘His name was Jack, and he was my best friend.’

Thomas scowled. ‘From what I remember, Jack’s mother was a real flighty sort – go with any tom-cat that howled, she would!’ He added softly, ‘Shame about what happened to her husband. Gordon was a nice enough bloke – struck down with a heart-attack two days after that big fire he got caught up in, and him only forty-two. It just goes to show – we never know what’s round the corner, do we, eh?’

There was a moment of quiet, before Eileen spoke again, and what she had to say came as a surprise to both Thomas and Libby. ‘Claire Redmond was a bad woman.’ She wagged a finger at Thomas. ‘She threw herself at my Ian!’

Nervously rolling her teacup in her hands, she leaned forward. ‘You were a bairn at the time,’ she told Libby, ‘and I took you with me to babysit for little Jack. Later, I found I’d left my coat behind, so I put you in your cot and nipped back – and there they were in the hallway. Your father and Jack’s mother – going at it like two ferrets, they were!’