Three Letters Read online

  Not wishing to add to their grief, she kept the detail to a minimum.

  ‘I blame myself,’ she confessed. ‘He told me he was waiting for a friend to arrive on the train, but deep down I don’t think I believed him. I should have talked with him a while longer. I should have asked if he was all right, but I just accepted what he told me. Oh dearie me, what an old fool I am …’ Taking a folded handkerchief from her pocket, she dabbed at her tears. ‘I’ll never forgive myself for not staying with him.’

  ‘Don’t cry, Dolly.’ Running to sit on her knee, Casey squashed up against her, his small body trembling as he took hold of her hand and held it tight. ‘It’s not your fault.’ When his voice caught in a sob, he tried so hard to be brave, but he could not stop his sorrow from spilling over.

  Dolly held him close, rocking back and forth with him, while the old man looked on, his face smudged and raw with the tears he too had shed since hearing the news. He glanced across to the side table where the letters lay under the newspaper, and shook his head forlornly. Like Dolly, he wondered what he could have done to prevent Tom from taking his own life.

  Try as he might, he could not draw his attention away from the table. In his mind’s eye he could see the three letters that lay hidden; one opened and the others waiting to be delivered.

  He knew every heartbreaking word in the letter addressed to himself, and his fear grew at how that young lad might receive such a letter.

  When his thoughts turned to Ruth, he felt a rush of hatred for the part she had played in Tom’s distress. He recalled how Tom had asked him not to turn against Ruth, but though he wanted to forgive her, he was not certain he ever could.

  He shifted his gaze to Dolly and Casey. In a slow, rhythmic manner, she rocked back and forth, softly singing, eyes closed and her arms tight about the child. Comforted, the boy hid his face in her shoulder and quietly sobbed. It was a beautiful yet harrowing scene, one that the old man thought would stay in his heart and mind for ever.

  He desperately needed to ease the boy’s pain, but then he reminded himself of the one thing he must do before the healing might begin.

  ‘Casey?’ In a gentle, broken voice, he called the boy’s attention. ‘Come ’ere to yer granddad, there’s a good lad.’ He wanted to collect the boy in his embrace, but when he tried to raise his arms, it was as though all the strength had gone from them.

  Dolly released the boy, and watched him go to his granddad, her heart aching for them both.

  When the boy came to him, the old man held him by the hands. ‘Listen to me, young Casey. There’s summat I need to tell yer,’ he informed him softly. ‘Summat that might hurt you all over again, but it’s important. D’yer hear what I’m saying?’

  Casey nodded. ‘Yes, Granddad. What is it you need to tell me?’

  ‘Well … it’s summat yer dad wanted you and me to know, only he never did tell us. So far as I’m aware he never told anyone, but now I know, and he wanted me to mek sure that you know as well.’

  Taking a deep breath, he explained to the boy how his daddy was very ill, and that the illness would have got much worse because there was little the doctors could do.

  ‘… So y’see, lad, your daddy knew he might end up being unable to care for himself. He would not be able to work any more, or pay his way, and it would only have been a matter of time afore he ended up in a wheelchair.’

  As his cutting words unfolded, he saw the light go from the boy’s eyes. He saw him physically cringe, and then the tears rose, to spill over.

  Bob spoke softly, ‘Aw, lad, it grieves me to have to tell you these things, but I can’t imagine what terrible thoughts must have been going through your daddy’s head … knowing all that, and making the decision to take his own life. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life helpless. Nor did he want us to see him struck down like that. Not able to stride down the street, or pick you up and swing you round, or play football with you. And mebbe not even have the strength in his fingers to play his beloved guitar.’

  He went on, ‘Yes, it’s true your daddy did a terrible thing, but it was his decision and however hard it might be, we have to do our best to respect that. And d’you know what, lad, I’ve asked myself how I might have dealt with such a terrible illness, and I can’t honestly say what I would have done in the circumstances.’

  Drawing the boy closer, he explained. ‘I didn’t know about your daddy’s illness until this very morning. Y’see, when I woke up and your dad were gone, I found summat on the bedside cabinet. Summat very special. Summat yer dad left for us.’

  Still reeling from what he’d been told, Casey remained silent.

  ‘Hey!’ The old man placed his fingers under the boy’s chin and lifted his face in such a way that he could not avoid looking up at him. ‘D’yer want to see what yer daddy left for you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Why’s that then? Is it ’cause yer angry? Is that it?’

  ‘I would have looked after him, I would. I really would!’

  ‘I know you would, and yer daddy knew full well that you would want to look after him – he knew we both would – and that’s the very reason why he did what he did. He had his pride and he did not want to become reliant on anyone to feed and clothe him, take him to the bathroom or clean his teeth. Oh, lad, try an’ understand if yer can. Because y’see, however hard it might be, we have to forgive what he did, because we love him.’

  ‘I … won’t ever forgive … him, I won’t!’ With his heart breaking, Casey clung to his granddad while, nearby, Dolly felt for these two darling people, but was powerless to ease their pain.

  After a while, Casey asked tentatively, ‘What did my dad want me to have?’

  The old man was greatly relieved. ‘He left you a letter. In fact, there were three letters in all. There was one for me, and there was one for you … and …’ He decided to leave the boy’s mother out of it for now.

  ‘What did the letters say?’

  ‘Well, o’ course it weren’t for me to open anyone’s letter but my own. In it, he told me about his illness, and how it were creeping up on him. He asked me to tell you before you read your letter, so it wouldn’t come as such a shock.’

  ‘Where is it then, Granddad? Where’s my letter? I want to read it, please, Granddad.’

  The old man had dreaded this moment.

  Dolly was desperately sad, ‘Might it be best if I leave now?’ she whispered.

  His answer was a vigorous shake of the head, which told her exactly what she wanted to hear: that she was needed; that they had accepted her.

  Having collected the letters from the side table, he then went to sit on the sofa. Patting the area beside him, he told Casey, ‘You can sit ’atween me an’ Dolly while yer read the letter.’ He beckoned Dolly to the sofa, and she was more than willing to do as he asked.

  On catching sight of Ruth’s letter, Casey asked angrily, ‘Why is there a letter for her?’ Grabbing it from the old man’s fingers, he threw it across the sofa.

  ‘That’s not for us to question, is it lad?’

  From what Tom had written in his father’s letter, he obviously favoured a reconciliation between Ruth and Casey but, to the old fella’s way of thinking, it was not a good idea. Recovering Ruth’s letter, he laid it on the side table. ‘It’s best if you don’t concern yourself as to why your dad left your mam a letter. I’m sure he had his own good reasons.’

  Taking hold of the boy under the armpits, the old man hoisted him onto the sofa, where Casey busily opened the envelope.

  ‘What does it say, Granddad?’

  ‘All kinda things. But look, lad, why don’t yer let me or Dolly read it out loud for yer?’

  Clutching his letter tight, Casey shook his head. ‘No. I want to read it myself. I can. I’m good at reading.’

  ‘I already know that. So go on then! Get on with it.’ He laid a cautionary hand on the boy’s arm. ‘It’s a hard letter for a boy to read, mind. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I r
ead it quietly to yer?’

  The boy was adamant. ‘No, Granddad! It’s my letter, and I want to read it by myself.’

  And so, he did; silently and with his expression slowly changing as he read through the painful words at the end:

  My love will always be with you, son, and if it’s possible, I will be ever by your side, watching and guiding you. When you’re worried and sad of heart, you might hear the softest rush of sound about you. It will be me, come to encourage and help you.

  Be brave, my son. Follow your heart, and know always that I love you.

  Dad xx

  Suddenly, Casey was up on his feet. Throwing the letter across the sofa, he ran out of the room, through the scullery and down the outer steps to the cellar.

  A few minutes later, that was where Granddad Bob found him, hunched in a dark corner, sobbing his heart out.

  ‘Hey, lad … Oh, come on now.’ With great difficulty, he slid down beside Casey. He did not put his arm about him, nor did he say anything more. Instead, he sat there with the boy, the two of them close together, side by side, while Casey sobbed as though his heart would break.

  ‘I’ve got summat for you, lad.’ Bob opened his hand to reveal a photograph. ‘It’s a picture of you with yer mam and dad. It were your first birthday, and I took this picture with my old Brownie camera. Keep it in your pocket, lad. Whenever you feel sad, look at it and remember the good times. It’s not a brilliant photo, but it’s the only photo we have of you with yer mam and daddy.’ Tenderly, he closed the photo into the boy’s hand.

  Upstairs, Dolly had gone into the scullery and, after realising that the two of them were in the cellar, she took it on herself to fill the kettle from the cold water tap and pop it onto the hob. Locating a small box of matches on the shelf above, she struck one alight and set it to the gas ring. Next, she set about preparing teapot and cups, and afterwards searched the cupboard to find suitable ingredients to make some cheese sandwiches. She knew it could be hard to deal with things on an empty stomach.

  A short time later, with the kettle merrily boiling, and the sandwiches set out on the plate, she turned down the gas, cleared up the mess she’d made, and patiently waited.

  Minutes passed, then it was a quarter of an hour. Then it was half an hour, and still there was no sign of them. I expect they’re talking things through, she thought. I’ll not go down – it’s not my place to do that – but I’ll be here when they come up, an’ no mistake. Her mind was made up: she was going nowhere until she knew they were safe and well. So she waited. First she paced the scullery, then she paced the parlour, and now she was halfway down the steps, then she was back up in the scullery again.

  Dolly, however, was wrong in her assumption that the old man and the boy were ‘talking things through’, because three-quarters of an hour after Bob had given him the photo, not another word had been spoken in the cellar. Instead, Casey sobbed until he could sob no more, and the old man remained beside him, silently keeping him warm.

  After what seemed an age, Casey snuggled closer still to the old man. ‘I don’t hate my dad.’

  ‘I know you don’t, lad.’

  ‘Where is he now, Granddad? Is he in Heaven?’

  ‘I’m not really sure, but I should think he’s safe enough, wherever he might be now. I don’t believe he’ll come to any harm. Your daddy is a good man, d’yer see? And they do say that, while we can’t see them, they can still see us.’

  ‘Oh!’ Casey’s eyes grew bigger. ‘D’you think Dad’s here, in the cellar, with us?’

  ‘He might be. Who knows?’ The old man gave a dry little chuckle. ‘Mind you, if he is down ’ere with us, I hope he’s not sitting on this damp floor, ’cause I can feel the cold right through me trousers.’ He gave a groan, ‘D’yer know what, lad?’

  ‘What, Granddad?’

  ‘I reckon if I sit ’ere much longer, I’ll never be able to get up, ever again!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, ’cause me ol’ bones will ’ave set so ’ard, they’ll be stiff as chair legs, that’s why.’

  ‘Do they hurt, Granddad?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’m sure they will, soonever I try an’ move.’

  ‘D’you want me to help you up?’

  ‘Aye, go on then.’ The old man held out his hand. ‘One big tug should do it.’

  There followed a deal of grunting and groaning, and quiet cursing too, but after a bit of a struggle, the old man was on his feet and carefully limbering up, ready for the long journey up the steps and into the scullery.

  First, though, he drew the boy to the small basement window, where he examined the scars of grief streaked across his pale little face. ‘I’m so sorry, lad.’ His old heart was deeply pained. ‘I’d ’ave given anything for your dad not to have left us like that.’

  The boy looked up at the lovable, weathered old face, and those blue eyes that usually twinkled and smiled, and which were now so quiet and sad. ‘Me too, Granddad.’ He didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘Come on then, m’boy.’ The old man forced a smile. ‘Your friend Dolly will think we’ve deserted her.’

  ‘She’s your friend too, Granddad … isn’t she?’

  The old man smiled properly then. ‘Aye, I reckon she is, an’ all.’

  Dolly was greatly relieved to see the two of them coming steadily up the steps. ‘I thought you’d set up home down there,’ she chided light-heartedly. ‘Look at the pair of you. Good Lord! You must be frozen to the bone.’

  Hobbling into the scullery, the old man was cheered by the kettle boiling on the hob, and, there on the kitchenette, a plate of sandwiches. ‘By! That looks grand!’ He spread his hands out to the flickering light beneath the kettle. ‘Come ’ere, lad, warm yersel’ afore we sit down again.’

  When Casey went to him, Bob gathered his small hands into his, rubbing them to pass on the warmth he’d gathered from the stove. ‘There! That’s better, isn’t it, eh?’

  Casey looked up at his granddad’s smiling face and, for the first time since losing his dad, he felt safe, with this darling old man and also with Dolly, who had already shown herself to be a true friend. ‘I love you, Granddad.’ He turned to smile at Dolly. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘And I love you back.’ Dolly felt the tears prick her eyes.

  ‘And, do you love Granddad Bob?’

  Surprised by his innocent question, Dolly felt embarrassed. She looked at the old man, at the bright, sincere eyes and that way he had of smiling right into your heart, and she gave her answer.

  ‘How could I love you, and not love your granddad Bob?’ It was said light-heartedly, but she meant it, because something had happened to her here in this homely little place, with these two very special people. Something she did not yet understand. Something surprising, that brought a spring to her step and a warm blush to her heart. And that had not happened to her in a very long time.

  On arriving here, she had wanted to be quickly gone, yet now, the thought of leaving these two and going back to her lonely little house was a prospect she did not care to think about. But go she must, and soon.

  The policeman was thorough as he questioned the neighbour in Henry Street. ‘And you say you heard rows and arguments, is that so, Mrs Kettle?’

  ‘Yes. It was shocking. Look, I’ve already told you people how Mr Denton went after the boy, leaving Mrs Denton on the floor, yelling and screaming. Oh, and the language was awful!’

  ‘And you say she went out later on?’

  ‘She did, yes. Left the door wide open, she did, with nobody there to look after the house. When she’d gone, my husband went along and pulled the door to. Oh, and she looked a right sorry mess as she flounced away down the street. No coat, and her hair uncombed. If you ask me, she wants locking away. The way she treats that boy, it’s a disgrace!’

  ‘What are you saying – that she beats him? Abuses him?’

  ‘I’m saying she screams at him. Oh, and she has men back to the house. We’ve seen them
sneaking out the back door. Shameful, that’s what it is … shameful!’

  ‘So, when she left, she didn’t by any chance say where she was going, did she?’

  ‘Not to us, no. Well, she wouldn’t, would she? I mean, we try not to have anything to do with her. Mind you, young Mr Denton is a different sort altogether. Nice man. Hard-working, and a positive angel to put up with her goings-on. My husband asked her if she was all right, but she just swore at him. I told him not to speak to her. We all know what she’s like. Gives the street a bad name, she does.’

  ‘I see. And is there another neighbour who might know where she’s gone?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. As far as I know, they don’t have any truck with her, and who can blame them?’

  Before he satisfied himself that the Dentons’ house was secure, the officer reminded her, ‘If she returns, would you please ask Mrs Denton to contact the police station? It’s very important.’

  ‘I see.’ Curiosity got the better of Sylvia. ‘Is it to do with her husband? Because he hasn’t come back, and nor has the boy. I expect they might be at Tom’s father’s house. The two of them often go round to see the old man. Happen she’s gone there to follow up on the row and cause even more aggravation. She’s never satisfied, that’s her trouble.’

  ‘Mrs Denton is not at her father-in-law’s house. We’ve been there. We’ve spoken to the boy, and also to Mr Denton senior. They haven’t seen or heard from her.’

  ‘So, what’s going on? Why are you searching for her? Huh! Don’t tell me she’s got herself into even more hot water?’

  Avoiding her question, the officer tipped his hat. ‘Thanks for your help, and as I say, if she does turn up, do please ask her to get in touch with the police station.’ With that he promptly left.

  In no time at all, Mrs Kettle was inside, informing her husband of what had been said.

  ‘There’s summat strange going on,’ she told William. ‘They’re still looking for her. They’ve even been round to old Mr Denton’s, and from what I can make out, the boy is there with him, but there was no mention of either Tom or Ruth. Strange, don’t you think?’