The Loner Read online

  In the next room, Rita remained slumped in the chair; she was hurting badly from the fall, but she didn’t want pity. She wanted her life the way it had been. With Donny gone and her father turned against her, all she had left was Davie, but he was just a boy. How could he look after her? The time was fast approaching when she would get the sack from the salon, as she kept erratic hours – and what would become of them then?

  When the sadness threatened to overwhelm her, she fumed at how cruel Don had been in leaving. Then there was her father…her own flesh and blood. If Joseph had been any kind of a man, he would have given Donny a bloody good hiding. ‘You let him desert me, Dad, and I’ll never forgive you for that.’ Her shrill voice sailed through to the kitchen where he was now leaning against the pot sink, his pained eyes staring out at the long dawn.

  Still a strong, capable man, despite long years in the foundry, and a heart battered by bad memories, the old man heard her relentless abuse and knew exactly how he had spawned such a degraded creature. She was made from the same mould as her mother.

  Moving to sit by the kitchen fire, and adding a bit of coal to it, he ran his hands through his thinning hair, trying hard to turn a deaf ear to his daughter’s rantings. His son-in-law’s departure had cut Joseph to the quick. Yet it only reinforced his belief that what he was about to do had to be done – because if he relented now, she would be the death of him – and what of the boy? Someone had to give her a jolt – make her realise what she was doing, get her off the road she was travelling. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind, and that was the way of it.

  She’ll blame everybody else, like she always does, he thought crossly. She’s done the damage to herself and torn this family apart, and God help us, she still hasn’t learned. His mind flew to his wife, dead of TB these ten years, and although he still grieved for her, his life was peaceful now, after long years of torment due to her faithless ways.

  His mind was made up. No one else should have to suffer like that. Davie would come off worst…that fine young lad who would love his mother whatever she did. Good or bad, he would only ever see Rita as his adored mammy.

  In the next room, the vicious tirade was unending. The whole world was against her, Rita raved. Her father was bloody useless and besides, he had always been a thorn in her side, lecturing her about the rights and wrongs of parenthood, and how she should be a better wife and think of others. What a bloody cheek – when he himself had been unable to control his own wife, who used to disappear for weeks at a time with her latest boyfriend. Rita had hated and loved her mother in equal measure.

  For one dizzy moment, Rita thought she could smell her mother’s perfume – Attar of Roses – mixed with something far more heady, a scent that the girl later recognised as gin, now her own favourite tipple.

  Thinking of her mother now filled her with rage. ‘GO ON, THEN!’ she bellowed. ‘YOU CAN ALL CLEAR OFF – AND SEE IF I CARE!’ Taking hold of the poker, she smashed it into the grate. Then the bottle was thrown, spilling its contents across the half-moon rug. Struggling to her feet and sobbing with the effort, she clung to the standard lamp.

  Laughing wildly now, she saw the boy watching her, white with fear. When he darted forward to take hold of her, she drew back her hand and slapped him hard across the mouth, gasping when the blood trickled down the side of his chin. And oh, the way he was looking at her…as though she was the Devil incarnate. Taking the heavy poker, she laid into the mantel-piece, sending the clock and ornaments shattering across the floor.

  Then she was crying. ‘I’m sorry, son,’ she gabbled. ‘It’s the drink and whose fault is that, eh? Your dad’s left me and you know I didn’t deserve that.’ She swayed, her hand at her mouth, feeling sick as a dog.

  ‘I want you out of this house.’

  Joseph had come into the room and had witnessed everything.

  ‘What? You can’t do that!’ Fear marbled her voice. ‘Look, Dad, I’m sorry. It was an accident. I’ve always had a temper, you know that. I’ll put it right. I won’t do it again. Look, here!’ Reaching into her purse, she shook out a handful of silver coins. ‘I’ve got money, I’ll get you some new ornaments and—’

  ‘I want nothing from you!’ The old man stood tall. ‘I don’t care about the damned ornament, but you can never replace that clock. It was precious to me – a gift from your mother – all I had left of her.’ His gaze fell to the money in her hand. ‘Earn that, did you?’ His voice thickened with disgust. ‘Half an hour in the alley, was it? Well, you can keep your filthy money, you trollop, because I don’t want it. What I want is you, out of this house…NOW!’

  ‘But Grandad!’ The boy came once more to her defence. ‘Mam’s already said she won’t do it again.’ Inside he was in turmoil, but he had to be strong for her.

  Seeing Davie’s downcast face, and knowing how he must be hurting, the old man said kindly, ‘Not you, son. I don’t want you gone from here. It’s her I want out of my house. She’s had her chances time and again, and each time she’s promised to change her ways.’ He slowly shook his head. ‘It’s like your grandmother, all over again. My Marie was just the same, God rest her soul. You see, my boy, I just can’t go through it all again. We’ve allus given in, but not this time. I’m too old and tired to take it any more. It’ll be the death of me.’

  ‘But you can’t send her away!’ The boy panicked. ‘Where will she go?’

  ‘Back to the streets where she belongs.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Rita struggled to stand. Holding on to the back of the chair, she told them both, ‘I’m a proud woman, and I don’t stay where I’m not wanted. Help me, Davie. I know where we can go, me and you. We don’t need this hovel. We can do better, you and me!’

  ‘Not you, Davie!’ Just as Don had pleaded with Davie, so now did the old man. ‘She’s not worth it. Let her go and find her own sort. You stay here.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Please, Davie, don’t go with her. Stay here, with me.’ Truth was, at this moment in time, he needed the boy more than ever.

  But the boy’s answer was the same as before. ‘I can’t leave her, she’s my mam. We’ll take care of each other.’

  ‘So, you mean to desert me as well, do you?’

  ‘I have to look after her.’

  ‘No, Davie!’ Somehow, he had to stop the boy from going. ‘You’re not listening to what I’m saying. Your father tried to warn you, and now I’m begging you…don’t go with her. She’ll take you down the road to ruin. Stay herewith me… please.’

  The boy was steadfast. ‘No, Grandad. She needs me.’

  ‘What? And you don’t think I need you?’

  The boy shook his head. ‘Not as much as Mam does.’

  ‘Right!’ Desperation heightened to anger. ‘Go on then! If that’s what you want, you can bugger off the pair of you, out of my house and out of my life. And I pray to God I never see either of you again!’

  For a long, shocked moment, the boy looked him in the eye, not wanting to believe what he’d just heard.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart.’ Rita stubbed out her cigarette and tugged at his sleeve. ‘We don’t need him. We don’t need anybody. You and me, we’ll be fine on our own.’

  The old man lingered a moment longer, silently pleading with Davie to see sense and change his mind. But he knew how loyal the boy was, and he had seen how his father leaving had made him all the more protective of his mother. And he realised he had lost to her, yet again.

  Without a word, he went upstairs, where he sat on the edge of his bed, saddened at what his own daughter had become, and worried about Davie: there was no telling where Rita might take him. God only knew where it would all end.

  A few minutes later, Davie came upstairs to collect a few things. He paused at the old man’s door. ‘I’m sorry, Grandad,’ he said.

  But there was no forgiveness in the old man’s heart, only fear for the boy, and hatred for his daughter. ‘Go away,’ he grunted.

  ‘I don’t want to leave like this.’
r />   For a fleeting moment, the old man almost relented; for the boy’s sake, perhaps he should give her another chance. But how many chances would she need before she saw what she was doing to herself and others? No! The mixture of old and new anger was still burning, and he deliberately turned away, his heart like a lead weight inside him.

  After a while he heard the boy move away, heard his footsteps dragging down the stairs – and it was all he could do not to go after him and catch him in his arms and tell him they would have a home here for as long as they wanted.

  But he had been through it all so many times with her, just as he had with her mother, and each time she sank deeper into the swamp. Then there was the gossip and the sly looks in the street. You couldn’t go on like it, and she wouldn’t change her ways. Why couldn’t Davie see her for what she was?

  The slam of the front door shattered his thoughts. Slowly and heavily, he went downstairs to the front room and looked out of the window. As he watched them go down the street, his daughter limping – from the drink, he assumed – he could hardly see them for the tears scalding his eyes. ‘Look at you,’ he murmured. ‘A mere scrap of a lad, and yet you take it all in your stride.’

  He saw how the woman leaned her weight on the boy, and how he took it, like the little man he was. ‘God help you, Davie,’ he muttered. ‘She’ll use you and then she’ll desert you.’

  He was bone-tired, and his heart full of sorrow.

  When they were out of sight, he left the window and went back to sit down, holding the broken bits of the clock, the tears he’d managed to hold back now flowing down his face. It was all such a mess. What a dreadful night’s work this had been. ‘I’m sorry, Davie. I had to send her away,’ he whispered.

  ‘I’ve don emy best, but I’m too old and frail to put up with her bad ways.’

  He glanced out at the waking skies and he prayed. ‘Dear God, keep them both safe. Let her realise the harm she’s done. And keep young Davie under Your divine protection.’ He hoped the Almighty was listening.

  The rage inside him was easing and now, with the coming of the dawn, there was another feeling, a sense of horror and shame. What in God’s name had he been thinking of, to do such a terrible thing?

  Suddenly he was out of the front door and shouting for them to come back. ‘We’ll give it another go! We’ll work at it! We’ll try again!’ His lonely voice echoed along the early-morning street.

  He paused to get his breath, then he hurried up to the top of Derwent Street and round the corner, and he called yet again, but the pair were gone, out of sight, out of his life, just as he’d ordered them to do. And it was more than he could bear.

  Wearily, he made his way back. In his troubled heart he feared for them both.

  But even Joseph could not have foreseen the shocking sequence of events that were about to unfold.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ON LEAVING THE house, Davie did not look back. With his mother leaning heavily on his arm and stumbling at every turn, he threaded his way through the familiar streets of Blackburn, his heart frozen with shock at the night’s events and his mind swamped with all manner of torment.

  He suspected his grandfather had been watching from the window, and he knew how bad he must be feeling. From past experience and having been on the receiving end of the old man’s kindness countless times, he knew the calibre of the man, knew how it went against Joseph’s loving nature, to have thrown his own daughter out onto the streets. Davie readily forgave his grandfather. He did not want Joseph to feel guilty, because he had always done right by Rita. Over the years, he had done right by them all.Twice the old man had taken the whole family in; once, a few years back, when a little business Don had set up after the war, had gone bust, and then again, more recently, when Rita had squandered the rent money and they were evicted. Most of her own wages and tips went on drink and cigarettes, these days.

  Through it all, Joseph had supported them. No man could have done more for his family. And who could blame him for turning her away? The neverending fights and arguments had tired the old chap to the bone.

  ‘Where are we going, Mam?’ The boy knew she was hurt and he was anxious. ‘Maybe we should go straight to Doctor Arnold’s house? He’ll be up by now.’

  But Rita would have none of it. ‘I’m not going to no bloody quack!’ she retorted. ‘We’ll pay a call on a good friend of mine. Jack will help us, I know he will.’ She chuckled fruitily. ‘Lord knows, I’ve done him enough favours in the past.’

  She instructed her son to head for Penny Street. ‘Third house on the right – number six, as I recall.’ She gave a deep sigh. Her whole body was becoming numb. ‘Once we’ve rested, we’ll get away from Blackburn Town and never come back.’ There was hatred in her voice. ‘If I never see that old bugger, or your father again, it’ll be too soon.’

  As they went slowly towards Penny Street, her footsteps dragging, she slurred, ‘My Jack’s an obliging fellow. He’ll not turn us away.’

  But turn them away he did.

  When they got to number six, the lights were out. ‘Jack!’ Rita’s voice sliced the morning air. ‘It’s me… Rita.’ Banging on the door, she yelled through the letterbox, ‘The old sod’s chucked me out on the streets and I’ve nowhere to go. Let me in, Jack! I’ve got my boy with me. I’m hurt. I need to rest…a few days, that’s all. Then I’ll be gone and I’ll not bother you again.’

  Suddenly, the door was flung open. ‘For chrissake, you silly cow, will you shut up!’ Sleepy-eyed and unshaven, the man was bare to the waist. ‘What the devil d’you think you’re doing, banging on my door this time of the morning! Clear off and bother somebody else. I want no truck with you!’

  ‘Send the old slag on her way!’ a woman instructed, shouting from the upper reaches of the house. ‘If you don’t, I will!’ Her harsh mutterings could be clearly heard. ‘Thought I wouldn’t find out about the pair of you, did you? Worse than the dogs in the street, you are, carrying on the minute I’m away to see my poor sick sister…Now I’m warning you, get rid of her, or I swear I’ll have her eyes out!’

  Half-closing the door, the man called Jack lowered his voice. ‘Jesus! She’ll be scrambling her clothes on to come and face yer,’ he warned Rita. ‘She can be a right bastard when the mood takes her. Soonever she got back from her sister’s, the neighbours couldn’t wait to tell her about us.’ He shifted his attention to Davie. ‘Sorry, son, but it’s been murder, trying to stop her from coming after your mam. You’d best take her away, and the quicker the better. There’s nothing for you here.’

  When Rita refused to leave, the man rounded on her with a vengeance. ‘For God’s sake, Rita, take a look at yourself. What the hell are you thinking of, wandering the streets at this time of a Saturday morning with this young lad in tow? Have you no shame at all?’ He felt guilty. ‘Aw, look, I know we had a bit of a fling, but you mean nowt to me…I told you that from the start. We had our fun and now it’s over.’

  ‘She’d best not be there when I get down the stairs!’ His wife’s angry voice sailed from the rafters.

  Afraid of the consequences if his wife should suddenly burst in on them, he hastily pushed Davie aside. ‘Get her away from here. Go on! Make yourselves scarce, the pair of you.’ Desperate to be rid of them, he slammed shut the door.

  As they went away, Davie and his mam could hear the argument raging inside. ‘Let go of me! She needs a damned good leathering, and so do you! I can’t believe you took that dirty slut to our bed the minute my back was turned. Christ Almighty! She must have been with every bloke in Blackburn.’

  Davie tried to block his ears, but the voices followed them down Penny Street. The postman stopped to listen, curtains twitched, and a dog in a nearby house began to bark.

  ‘If I had any sense I’d pack my bags and be out that bloody door!’ The wife raved on. ‘Another feather in her cap, that’s all you are. She’s trash, that Rita Adams. She’ll flutter her eyelashes and the blokes’ll gladly tip up the pric
e of a drink for a knee-trembler wi’ that one down a dark alley. Fools, the lot of ’em! An’ I thought you were different, our Jack, but you’re just like the rest of ’em, a dirty dog sniffin’ after a bitch on heat.’ There was a muffled cry before she was shouting again, ‘Let go of me. I’ll have the skin off her back when I catch up with her.’

  ‘I was sure he’d help us.’ Rita sank onto the nearest doorstep, her face deathly white and her limbs all atremble. ‘I really thought I meant sum-mat to him.’ Out of all the men she had slept with, Jack had been the special one, or so she thought. He had really listened to her, bought her small gifts, seemed to be her friend.

  Gathering her strength, and holding onto her son, she carefully hoisted herself up. ‘Make for the church, love.’ Her head on his shoulder, she urged him on. ‘They’ll not turn us away.’ The smallest of smiles crept over her features. ‘We’ll rest there for a while, and then we’ll think what to do.’

  ‘It’s too far, Mam.’ Davie could see how that tumbledown the stairs had really hurt her, and now this humiliating rejection seemed to have taken the heart out of her altogether. He was ashamed of what she had become, could have sat down and cried at the pity of it all. How she could have given herself to that married man Jack, when she had his own lovely father, Don, was a mystery to him.

  ‘What about your other friends?’ he asked kindly. ‘Couldn’t we go to one of them?’

  ‘I lied, son,’ she confessed. Unable to look him in the eye, she hung her head. ‘There are no friends. There’s just you and me.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘Nobody wanted to know me when I was your age.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Even at school, I always found it difficult to make friends.’

  In that revealing moment, she saw herself as she really was, that quiet, lonely girl from a troubled background, the daughter of an unstable woman, and now, herself, a wife who time and again had cheated on a good man and brought trouble to her own doorstep.