Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber

‘Well, it’s a good job I waited another ten minutes, ain’t it, gal?’

‘I’m sorry it took so long, Maggie.’ As Maggie continued with her to the bus stop, Kathy drew her to a halt. ‘Look, Mags, if it’s okay with you, I need to talk.’ When it came right down to it, she had no one else but Maggie to confide in.

Maggie didn’t hesitate. ‘Okay by me.’ She had already noticed how anxious Kathy seemed. ‘What’s wrong?’

Hooking her arm in Maggie’s, Kathy walked her along the street. ‘There’s that quiet little pub on Albert Street,’ she suggested. ‘We can talk there.’

Being Saturday night, there were more people in the pub than Kathy would have liked. ‘We’d best sit over there.’ Maggie pointed to a table by the window; on its own and some way from the bar, it seemed an ideal place to talk. ‘You go and sit down. I’ll get us a drink … half a pint o’ shandy, is it, gal?’ she asked. ‘Same as usual?’

Kathy nodded. ‘Thanks, Maggie.’

While Kathy settled herself at the table, Maggie brought the drinks. ‘There y’are, gal … get that down you.’

Maggie settled in her seat, took a swig of her Babycham, and asked, ‘Your mother been giving you trouble again, has she?’

‘You could say that. She’s full of herself as usual. Planning to marry an old business rival of Dad’s. She says she’s lonely, but I think she’s hoping he’ll “pop his clogs” soon after so she can inherit his vast fortune. The upshot is, Samantha is being given the house and everything that’s worth anything.’

‘Well, the old cow! No wonder you’re down in the dumps.’

‘No, Mags. You’ve got it all wrong.’ None of that mattered to Kathy. ‘It’s not important. It isn’t that I need to talk about.’

Maggie pointed to the document case lying on the table. ‘It’s to do with that, ain’t it, gal?’ She had seen how carefully Kathy handled the case, laying it in front of her and never taking her eyes off it.

Kathy nodded. ‘She gave it to me.’

Opening the case, she drew out the house deeds, but left the letters inside. ‘Look at that.’ Handing the deeds to Maggie, she waited for her reaction.

After perusing the document, Maggie was delighted for Kathy, but confused by the meaning of it all. ‘It’s a house!’ she exclaimed. ‘In your name. But that’s wonderful.’ Seeing that Kathy seemed a little sad, she asked lamely, ‘Ain’t it?’

Kathy told her the whole story … of how her mother had taken great delight in tearing her father’s memory to shreds. She told her about the house in West Bay, and the woman called Liz, and the love-letters that her mother had read and that she herself could never read. She explained how she still found it hard to believe that her father had kept a secret lover for such a long time, and that she never even suspected. ‘Oh, Maggie, why didn’t he tell me?’

‘Because he loved you, that’s why.’ Maggie hated what Kathy’s mother had done to her: whenever she came into Kathy’s life she always seemed to take delight in turning it upside down. ‘He knew how much you loved him, and he didn’t want to spoil that. Happen he thought you would think badly of him, or he felt ashamed in some way that he had the need to go outside his marriage for love and affection.’

Reaching out, she laid her hand over Kathy’s. ‘Look, gal. I know this must all have come as a terrible shock to you, but don’t let it spoil all them special memories of your dad. He was a lovely man. All right! So he set up a love-nest with this “Liz” … and he never told anybody, not even you. But it doesn’t mean he couldn’t trust you.’

Kathy had already told herself all that. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘and I don’t blame him for what he did … any man would if he had my mother to put up with!’ The hatred of her mother trembled in her voice. ‘Whatever he did, she drove him to it, and if that was the only happiness he could find, then I’m glad for him.’

When the tears began to smart in her eyes, she took a minute for the emotion to subside. ‘She won’t spoil my memories. I won’t let her.’

Maggie understood. ‘I’m sorry, gal.’ Maggie’s heart went out to her. ‘But he never stopped loving you, did he, eh? ’Cause he even bought the house in your name. That tells you summat, don’t it, eh?’

Kathy had wondered about that, and she voiced her questions to Maggie. ‘Why would he do that? If he found happiness and comfort with this … Liz, why didn’t he buy the house in her name?’

Maggie shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe she’s rich and doesn’t need it. But for what it’s worth, I think he was trying to tell you something.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I think he was trying to tell you how happy he was with her. I think he wanted you to have the house … because he hoped you might go there and maybe find the same happiness he had.’

Kathy smiled. ‘I thought that too,’ she admitted. ‘On the trolleybus coming over, I tried to make sense of it all, and I thought the same as you: that he wanted me to have the house, because he loved it so, and because he hoped I might love it too.’ Close to tears, her heart swelled with love for him. ‘I’m not upset or angry with him,’ she said, ‘I’m just so glad he found happiness, because I know he didn’t have that with Mother.’

She gave a wry little smile. ‘It was just such a shock. I never knew he had it in him to do something like that. In a way I admire him … more than ever. It shows he had the guts to take the chance of happiness when he saw it.’

She recalled how her mother had gone to West Bay, looking for the woman. ‘She said the house was a “poky” place … filled with rubbishy furniture she “wouldn’t even put in her shed”.’

‘Ah, well, that’s your mother, ain’t it, gal? If summat didn’t cost a bleedin’ fortune, it ain’t worth having.’

‘Apparently there was no sign of the other woman.’

Maggie laughed. ‘Just as well an’ all, if you ask me! I reckon there’d have been a right cat-fight if them two had got together.’

Kathy didn’t agree. ‘No, Maggie. She would have kept her distance and torn her to shreds with her vicious tongue. That’s Mother’s way. And I should know, because she’s done it to me often enough.’

‘Will you try and find this Liz woman?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Kathy shook her head. ‘To be honest, I would like to,’ she answered, ‘if only to thank her for the happiness she so obviously gave my father. But, to tell you the truth, I don’t think she wants to be found.’ She had given this woman a great deal of thought and had come to that conclusion. ‘Maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.’

‘What will you do … with the house, I mean?’

‘I’m not sure yet. It’s all too soon.’ She assured Maggie of one thing. ‘I won’t sell it. I couldn’t do that.’ She thought of her father and smiled. ‘It would be like selling his dream.’

Maggie raised her glass. ‘Here’s to your dad,’ she toasted.

Kathy clinked glasses. ‘And his dream,’ she added softly.

That night, when she was all alone with her thoughts and memories, she browsed through the deeds, feeling closer to her father as she turned the worn pages. She touched the letters one by one, but didn’t open them. ‘What was she like, Dad?’ she murmured to his smiling photograph. ‘I would have loved to have met her.’

She cradled the letters and thought of when her father was alive, and sobbed until her heart ached.

It was a long time before she fell asleep, but before she did, her mind was made up. ‘It’s time to make some changes. I’ll give up my job and go to West Bay,’ she murmured to herself.

And, having decided that, she felt more at peace than she had done for a very long time.

Part 2 (#ulink_af5ebb01-a02e-53a5-a837-a56935da1cd0) July 1952 All Things New

Chapter 3 (#ulink_45e784db-bf37-594b-8795-71404db3afeb)

IT WAS EIGHT O’CLOCK in the evening on Friday 12 July, 1952; the sun was beginning to drop in the skies and, along the coast, a rising breeze cooled the air.

After a long drive taking some six and a half hours, Tom headed his little two-door Morris Minor into the sleepy seaside hamlet of West Bay.

Drawing into a curve alongside the road, he slipped the car out of gear and left the engine ticking over while he looked at the directions that he’d scribbled down. John Martin had stayed down here just after the war, and had recommended both the place and a guest-house. ‘Turn left when you come off the main road … follow the signs to West Bay. You’ll find “River View” on your right … there’s a big sign at the gateway. If you come into the harbour, you’ve gone too far.’

Looking about him, Tom took stock of his surroundings; from where he was parked he couldn’t quite see the harbour, but there were seagulls everywhere, and somewhere in front of him the tops of sailing masts bobbed up and down against the skyline. There was a fishmonger’s to his left and a pub to his right, but not a soul in sight. ‘Where the devil am I?’ he wondered aloud.

Taking another look at John’s instructions, he groaned. ‘I’ve missed the guest-house,’ he realised. ‘I’ll have to go back.’

He almost leapt out of his skin when an old man tapped on the window. ‘Got lost, ’ave yer, son?’ With a shaggy beard, a drooping moustache and a flat cap that covered almost all the top half of his features, the man resembled an old sheepdog. His face was weathered and jolly, and his expression endearing.

‘I’ ope yer don’t mind, only I saw yer lookin’ at yer map.’ His merry blue eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘Where is it yer looking for?’ His homely Lancastrian accent was a pleasant surprise. He obviously wasn’t from round here originally.

Weary and peckish, Tom was grateful for any help he could get. ‘Thank you, and yes, it seems I have got lost.’ Pointing to the paper in his hand, he told the old fella, ‘I’m looking for “River View”, only I seem to have missed it.’ Holding up the paper so the old man could see the writing, he went on, ‘It says here, if I can see the harbour, I’ve gone too far.’