Three Letters Read online

  Backing away, Casey would not be quietened. ‘I want my dad!’ He confronted the police officers. ‘What ’ave you done with my dad? Where is he? What’s happened to him?’

  When the younger officer made towards him, Casey ran along the passage and out the door, yelling as he went, ‘Leave me alone! I’m going to find my dad, and you can’t stop me!’

  Bob was frantic. ‘He heard us talking. I tell you, he knows! Find him.’ Impatient, he began yelling, ‘GO ON, GET AFTER HIM. HE’LL BE HEADED FOR MILL HILL!’

  The officers hurried out to the car, the old man following. Glancing down the street he saw Casey, running as if the devil were on his heels. ‘Casey, come back, lad!’ Bob called, but Casey had to find his dad, and he was in no mood for listening. A few more steps and he was away round the corner, headed for the backstreets, and Mill Hill beyond.

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ Following the officers, Bob was determined. ‘The boy’s distraught. Who knows what he overheard?’

  ‘No!’ The officer was adamant. ‘Leave it to us. You need to stay here in case he comes back.’

  ‘If I stay here, do you promise you’ll find him, and fetch him back to me?’ Already emotionally and physically exhausted, and now desperately afraid for his grandson, he knew the officer was right. What if Casey came back and there was no one here? Seeing the state he was in, that would be unforgivable.

  ‘All right, I’ll stay and wait to see if he comes back. But you get off to Mill Hill as quick as you can. Search him out. Look everywhere. The thing is, I don’t know how much he heard.’ He waved them away. ‘Don’t come back without him!’

  His shoulders hunched with the weight of sorrow, Bob shuffled inside the house. Tom loomed large in his mind. How he wished to God his son had confided in him. Even then, he could not have changed the harsh fact that Tom had a sorry future ahead of him.

  Deliberately leaving the front door slightly ajar, Bob returned to the parlour, where he fell into his chair and picked up the letter. He read it for the umpteenth time, a few words leaping out of the page at him: ‘… My future is bleak … The disability is bound to render me entirely dependent on loved ones …’

  ‘Aw, lad!’ Shaking his head in despair, he laid the letter down. Leaning back into the chair he reflected on the morning’s shocking events. Yesterday he was thrilled to have his son and grandson here with him, and now his whole world had fallen apart.

  He looked towards the mantelpiece at the snapshot of his wife in her younger days: a handsome, dark-haired woman with sparkling eyes and winning smile. ‘God help us, Anne, lass,’ he whispered. ‘Look what’s happened to us now.’ He rubbed his head with the palms of his hands, while still confiding in his beloved late wife. ‘Did he think we wouldn’t take care of him, eh? Does he not know that I would’ve given my own life to save his?’

  He tried so hard to put himself in Tom’s shoes, and in a strange way, he understood. Just enough, maybe, to forgive.

  Overwhelmed and feeling helpless, he sat there, quiet and reflective. Inevitably the tears came again, and this time they would not stop. ‘Look after our boy, Lord, wherever he is,’ he prayed. ‘And please, bring that little lad home, safe and well. Me and Casey need each other now. More than ever.’

  For a long time he remained in the chair, trying to come to terms with the news that Tom had most probably taken his own life.

  Aw, lad, why did you suffer it all on yer own? he thought. Why couldn’t you share yer troubles with yer old father, eh? Surely to God, between the two of us, we might a’ found some other way.

  Over and over, he ran the officers’ words through his mind. It was so very hard to take in the stark truth.

  Outside, while the police car took the main route to Mill Hill, Casey made for the backstreets. Unknowingly following the same route his father had taken before him, he ran fast and furious, winding through the cobbled ginnels and onto King Street, then through the alleyways and ginnels, towards the railway bridge.

  After passing the pub, he wended his way through the shortcut he and his father took when they came here with Granddad.

  Every few minutes he looked about, keeping a wary eye open for any police car. In his young mind, going to the railway bridge was the only way to find out what had happened.

  Even then, he was afraid to know, yet more afraid not to.

  As though for his very life he ran on, his chest hurting with every breath he took and his heart fit to burst. His legs ached, the sweat ran down his face and his shirt stuck to his back.

  In Mary-Anne Street, he was forced to pause and catch his breath, but he daren’t stop for more than a minute in case the police caught up with him.

  ‘Are you all right, son?’ a man walking by asked with concern.

  ‘Yes … thank you.’

  Casey ran on with determination, his feet hardly touching the ground. Being sure to keep well away from the main thoroughfares, he dodged under hedges and leaped over walls. They said his dad was on the bridge. What was he doing on the bridge, and why had he gone there alone? He must be in trouble, he thought! His dad would explain, but first, he must find him.

  That bright, burning thought drove him on.

  When he swung past the familiar row of trees, he knew he was not far from the railway bridge. But what if Dad wasn’t there? And still he wondered, what had happened at the bridge, because it seemed to him that something had happened. Something frightening.

  His young mind was constantly troubled with questions. Why was the bed neatly made up this morning, as though no one had slept in it? Had his dad simply left it tidy when he woke up? Or had he not slept in it at all, and if that was the case, why not?

  Maybe Dad had stayed downstairs with Granddad Bob last night. Maybe they were talking and planning, about what to do now Mam and Dad had parted company. Maybe Dad might have changed his mind about living with Granddad for ever.

  Now, the doubts began to set in, until Casey wasn’t sure what he expected to find at the bridge. He reminded himself of what he had overheard when the policemen were talking to his granddad. They mentioned his dad and the bridge, and Granddad was shocked and upset. And there was a woman … a widow by the name of Dolly something.

  With every step his fears were heightened.

  All he could think of was finding his dad. Then everything would be all right, because it always was.

  Soon he was running up the street to the bridge; then he was at the foot of the bridge. He paused, making sure the police were not already there, waiting to pounce on him.

  Going cautiously forward, he was curious to see a straggled line of people leaning over the wall; they appeared to be interested in what was going on below. Now Casey saw that nearby was a police car, and a long thick rope cordoning off the area. Two helmeted police officers patrolled the scene.

  Casey approached a man in the crowd. ‘What’s going on, mister?’

  ‘You don’t want to know, lad.’ Having children of his own, the man was concerned by Casey’s appearance. His face was red and stained with sweat, and his breath was laboured, as though he’d been running hard. ‘You’d best clear off away from ’ere!’

  ‘Leave him alone, Dave!’ His wife stooped to speak with Casey. ‘He’s right, though. Does your mother know where you are? Don’t you know something bad happened here? They’re saying a man went off the bridge last night … that he was killed by a train … It doesn’t bear thinking about. So you’d best get off, lad. Get off home, where you belong …’

  Just then a police car came screeching to a halt at the kerbside, and a young officer came running towards them.

  ‘Stay there, son!’ Making a beeline for the boy, the officer called out, ‘We’re not here to hurt you. Your granddad wants you home, that’s all.’

  Cautiously narrowing the distance between himself and the boy, he pleaded, ‘I’m sorry, son, but we need to get you back home, where you belong. Come on now … your granddad needs you.’

  ‘No!’ Casey ba
cked away. ‘I’m not going home till I find my dad!’ What the woman had just told him was burning in his mind. ‘Tell me what happened to my dad.’ Growing hysterical, he demanded. ‘Was it him who got killed by a train? Was it? TELL ME THE TRUTH!’

  On seeing the looks exchanged between the two officers, he suspected the truth, and it was more than he could deal with. Backing off, he began sobbing, ‘No, it’s not true! It wasn’t my dad. It couldn’t have been. Do you hear me … it wasn’t him!’ Distraught, he edged away. ‘You’re lying … all of you … LIARS!’

  When the young officer came forward to calm him, Casey took to his heels and fled. Deep down he knew his father was gone, yet he could not let himself believe it.

  Instead, he clung to the fantasy that they’d made a mistake, that his father was somewhere else, safe and well. Yes, that was it! His dad was not the man killed by that train. He couldn’t be.

  Some small instinct in the back of his mind forced him to accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe, his dad really was the man that had … that was … ? Angry with himself for even entertaining the idea, he pushed it away.

  He had to run, yet he didn’t want to leave, because this was the place they’d told Granddad about. He didn’t know how, but somehow, he would find his dad, and everything would be all right. Just now, he couldn’t think straight.

  ‘Come on, lad,’ the older officer addressed him softly, ‘you need to go home now. You need to be with your granddad …’

  When the officer was almost close enough to touch him, Casey took off again. ‘Leave me alone!’ he shouted as he ran. ‘I’m not going back till I find my dad!’ He was concerned about his granddad, though. He had seen him sobbing, but while his granddad played on his mind, his dad was paramount in his thoughts. He could not let himself believe the worst. He would find his dad, he would. His mind was in chaos.

  Casey was soon out of sight of the policemen.

  ‘The little sod!’ Scrambling into the car, the two officers were concerned for the lad. ‘I expect he’ll make his way back to his granddad,’ the older police officer was convinced, ‘but we need to be sure he gets there safely.’ Starting the engine, he slammed the car into gear and surged forward. ‘We can’t have the kid running loose all over the place.’

  ‘Do you really think he heard … back at the house?’ The young officer was worried. ‘It would be a shocking thing if he overheard us saying how his father appeared to have taken his own life.’

  ‘It would, yes.’ Taking the bend at speed, the older man shook his head. ‘Look! I don’t know what the boy heard. Maybe he really did overhear something, and it got him guessing. And just now, there was a woman talking to him. When all’s said and done, happen the boy knows enough to put two and two together.’ The older policeman felt bad about the boy. ‘I reckon he’ll be on his way back to his granddad. When we get to the house, we should ask the old fella to tell him. It’s better for the lad to know the truth.’

  Keeping a safe distance from the tracks, and greatly relieved that no one could see him, Casey remained very still.

  From his hiding place in a crevice beneath the bridge, he could see the big police vans arrive, and soon after that the people retreated.

  The officers kept them moving, and once the onlookers had gone, the cordons were taken down and packed into the waiting vans. Eventually the vans were gone; then the police cars and the body of officers followed, while two of them stayed behind to check round and be sure that everything was as it should be. Soon, they too were leaving, and the bridge was emptied. After the noise and bustle, it now seemed eerily silent.

  Carefully climbing up to the bridge, Casey felt as though he was the only person in the whole wide world. Because of the barriers, the traffic had been diverted earlier, and as yet had not found its way back along this route. There was not a train or a person in sight, while down the street, a solitary dog relieved itself against a lamppost.

  Spreading his two arms over the bridge wall, Casey looked to the rails below. He recalled the many wonderful times he and his dad, along with his granddad, had leaned over in this very spot to watch the trains go by.

  Somewhere in the darkness of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever again do that, all three of them together. But he knew the truth, and a great, overwhelming sadness took hold of him.

  He felt the cold stone under his fingertips, and he imagined his father being where he was right now, arms stretched and his fingertips holding onto the rim of the wall, so that he could pull himself upwards.

  Since hearing the police officers talking with his granddad, and seeing that dear old man distraught, Casey had drawn an invisible shield over his mind in a desperate bid to keep out the terrifying truth.

  Now, though, as he lay across the wall, his head hanging over the track and his mind flooded with thoughts of his beloved father, it was as though the shield had slid away, and he could see the truth laid bare, terrifying and shocking. It emblazoned itself on his heart and mind, and tore him apart. His dad was never coming back. Not ever. In the whole of his life he would never see his dad again.

  With his heart breaking, he slid to the ground, the sound of his sobbing echoed in the cool, quiet air. All he could think about was his father, and the idea of him going over the bridge wall. Distraught, he sat cross-legged on the cold ground, rocking back and forth, his heart like a lead weight inside his chest.

  Suddenly, when a tabby cat was beside him gently rubbing its head against the boy’s face, it gave him a sense of comfort.

  Raising his head, he looked straight into the cat’s dark eyes and then he slid his arm round the cat, and the cat snuggled up to him as though sensing his grief.

  Then, as stealthily as he’d arrived, the cat was gone, and the boy was alone again.

  Casey watched the cat stroll away, and when it was eventually out of sight, the sense of loneliness and desolation was unbearable here on this familiar bridge, with all its fond memories; here in this lonely place, without the people he loved.

  In that dark moment he thought of his mother, and he hated her. Yet at the same time he loved and needed her. Then he despised himself for even thinking that she might care.

  But he called for her all the same. ‘Mam!’ The tears fell fast. ‘Oh, Mam …’ Once again he dropped his head to his knees and wrapped his arms about his legs. He wasn’t really sure where his dad was, but just then, he so much wanted to be with him.

  Across the street, Dolly was just waking.

  She had mostly lain awake through the dark hours, snatching a wink or two here and a half-hour there. Twice she had gone down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The night had been long and painful, and guilt plagued her mind. Eventually she fell into a troubled sleep, and now, waking with a start, she was horrified to hear the grandmother clock strike four times.

  Half an hour later, having washed and dressed, she entered the kitchen to make herself a pot of tea. When the tea was brewed and her cup filled, she wrapped her two hands around it and carried it to the window, where she looked out.

  Something on the bridge quickly caught her attention. Collecting her spectacles from the sideboard, she put them on and squinted towards the bridge once more, at what she imagined was a bundle of rags on the ground.

  She leaned forward to get a better look. It was a child … a small child. Laying down her spectacles, she ran to the front passageway and collected her coat. Outside, she looked up and down the street, but could not see anyone who might belong to the child.

  The memories of what had happened to that young man had badly shaken her. And now there was a child sitting on the cold ground beneath that very same spot where the young man had slid to his death.

  She chattered to herself as she went out of the front door and across the street. She knew she would never forget what she had seen. ‘Why didn’t I realise what he meant to do?’ she tormented herself. Even now, she could see Tom’s quiet smile in her mind. She could hear his reas
suring voice, yet still she blamed herself for not realising his intention. And what about his family? The thought of their sorrow made her feel all the more guilty.

  Now, she was hurrying across the street, noticing how the bridge was already cordoned off. ‘Soon they’ll be out here in their droves, I dare say.’

  Dolly realised that was inevitable, given the circumstances. Drawing closer to the bridge, she could see the child crouched down against the bridge wall. Close enough now, she realised the child was a boy, probably no older than seven or eight years of age. She looked about, wondering if the parents might be close, but there was no one else in sight.

  She advanced quietly and carefully, afraid that when he saw her approaching, he might suddenly run away.

  Casey was so lost in thoughts of his dad, he had not seen Dolly coming, but when he heard her call out to him, he was on his feet in an instant. Ready to run, he stood with his back to the wall.

  ‘Please, lady, I’m not doing anything wrong. Leave me alone.’ As Dolly drew nearer, he took stock of her, relieved to find that she was just an old woman.

  ‘I know you’re not doing anything wrong.’

  Dolly stood still on the pavement, afraid he would take off if she took one more step. ‘It’s just that I heard you crying, and I noticed there was no one with you. I’m sorry, child, but I was worried. I only want to help you.’

  She could see he was agitated, ready to flee at any moment. She needed to calm him. ‘It’s just that … well, it’s so cold out here, I thought you might like to come inside my house and warm yourself. I can make you a nice cup of hot cocoa, if you like? You needn’t worry, there’s no one else in the house … only me.’ Her smile was warm. ‘I promise, I truly don’t mean to harm you.’

  To her bitter disappointment, she had never been blessed with children of her own, though over the years she had been an adopted auntie to the neighbours’ children. ‘Just so’s you know, my name is Dolly. What’s yours?’

  Her name jogged Casey’s memory. ‘Dolly? Is that really your name … Dolly?’ He tried to remember what the policeman had said, and he uttered the first thing that came to mind: ‘Did you find my dad?’