The Loner Read online

  ‘You mustn’t blame your grandad for throwing us out,’ she told Davie. ‘You hardly knew your grandma, but she was a difficult woman.’ She shuddered as the rain predicted by the weather-forecaster began to fall. ‘Your poor grandad had a lot to put up with, all those years ago, and when he saw me going the same way as her, he couldn’t bear it.’ Shame flooded her soul. How could she have let herself follow blindly in her mother’s footsteps?

  She raised her gaze and looked at her son, made to bear a heavier burden than young shoulders should ever carry. ‘I’m sorry, Davie…’ She could say no more, for now she was sobbing, all the pent-up grief of the years being released, and he was holding her, and she felt more comforted than she had ever been in her whole life.

  ‘It’s all right, Mam,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll take care of you now.’

  Together they went along Addison Street and through the empty marketplace, and now as they cut along towards Church Lane, he asked her if she was all right. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she answered brightly. ‘You’ll see, once I’ve had a proper rest and time to sort it all out, I’ll be off again like a spring lamb, and you won’t be able to keep up with me.’ But her sight was growing dim, and the numbness was creeping up her body.

  Not altogether reassured, Davie crooked his arm round her waist and pressed on, the rain soaking through their clothes and slowing down their progress.

  They were entering the spinney when one of Rita’s dragging feet got caught in the bracken; as she lurched forward, Davie was taken with her, rolling down the incline and into a shallow ditch, where she made no move to get up. ‘I’m hurt,’ she gasped. ‘You’ll have to leave me, Davie. Go and get help…Hurry, Davie. Get help.’

  At first he tried to lift her, to get her to safety and out of the cold and rain. But the more he tried, the harder she fought.‘No, my lovely. Leave me be.’ She had the strangest feeling; the pain had gone and she was in another place. But her son was here, and he was frightened. She roused herself. ‘Get help, Davie,’ she repeated. ‘Quickly!’ And then she was silent and he was frantic, and as he struggled to raise her into his arms, she gave a shudder that chilled his heart. In that moment, he was mortally afraid.

  Laying her gently down, he took off his coat and draped it over her. ‘Stay still, Mam,’ he sobbed. ‘I’ll run as fast as I can, and I’ll be back before you know it.’ Ducking his head against the rain, he ran up the bank, down through the spinney and out into the lane.

  As he ran, a kind of dread stole over him, making him weep unashamedly. Desperate for help, he hurriedly wiped away the tears with the cuff of his shirt-sleeve. ‘Can anyone hear me? My mother’s hurt. We need help!’ Yelling at the top of his voice, he could hear the animals scuttling in fright all about him, and when, breathless, he broke through the trees, he paused to search both ways along the winding lane, but there was no one to be seen.

  Taking to his heels, he began running, suddenly pausing again when he thought he heard a sound in the distance. For a minute he couldn’t make it out, but then he recognised the clippety-clop of horse’s hooves, and to his immense relief, saw the familiar milk-cart rounding the bend. ‘Tom? Tom, stop. It’s me, Davie!’

  Drawing on the last of his strength, he raced towards the cart, his heart at bursting point as he prayed to God above for his mammy to be all right.

  ‘What the devil’s going on, lad?’ Tom drew the cart to a halt, while Davie was bent double, gasping and crying, and telling Tom how he needed help and that his mammy was badly hurt.

  ‘All right, I hear you.’ He patted the seat beside him. ‘Climb up here. You can tell me about it as we go.’

  Dishevelled and in a state of panic, Davie wasn’t making too much sense as he clambered onto the wagon. ‘We went to the man and he told us to clear off, and there was nowhere else to go and we were making for the church…then she fell and I couldn’t get her up. Hurry, Tom. Please hurry!’

  ‘Calm down, lad, take it easy. We’ll see she’s all right.’ Sending the horse into a trot, the little man kept his eyes on the ruts and dips in the lane. ‘What’s happened?’ He needed to know. ‘It’s your mam you say? Last time I saw her, she was heading home, a bit the worse for wear, but fine enough. She should have been back hours ago. What in God’s name were you doing out here, the pair of you?’

  But Davie wasn’t listening. He was hellbent on getting to his mother, and realising this, Tom concentrated on the way ahead. ‘How far?’

  ‘Here!’ Suddenly they were at the point where Davie had broken through from the woods. ‘She’s down there.’

  Before the horse had slowed down, Davie was already jumping off the side of the wagon. ‘We have to get her home as soon as we can,’ he gabbled. ‘Grandad threw us out but he’ll take her back now, I know he will.’ That said, he was away and into the woods, calling Tom’s name as he went. ‘Quick, Tom, this way! She’s in here.’

  From some way behind, Tom followed, his mind full of questions. How had this come to pass? Davie said his grandad had thrown them out. Dear mother of God, why would Joseph do such a thing? But then again, hadn’t it been on the cards, and wouldn’t Tom himself have been tempted to do the same thing if his daughter had turned out to be such a bad lot…giving herself to all and sundry and making a mockery of her hardworking husband. Any other man would have shown her the door long ago.

  As he hurried after the boy, Tom decided that the questions would have to wait. There were more important things to attend to now. Poor Rita was hurt and she needed help. For now, that was all that mattered.

  A few minutes later, his face torn by overhanging branches and his ankles sore where the thorns and bracken had proved a hindrance, Tom was shocked to see Davie’s mammy lying crumpled in a shallow ditch. ‘Step aside, lad.’ Falling to his knees beside her in the wet leaves, he took hold of her hand, taken aback by how cold she was. In the slimmest shaft of light filtering through the umbrella of trees, he saw how pale and still she lay. ‘We’d best get her out quick.’ His quiet, decisive manner gave Davie a sense of calm, and hope. But not peace of mind. Too much had happened this night. Too many bad memories would follow him, and he thought he would never again know peace of mind.

  Between the two of them, they set about getting her up, and when she cried out, they stopped to give her a moment. ‘Shh now. It’s all right,’ Tom reassured her. ‘You’re safe. We’ve got you.’All the same, it was a slow and painful operation, but at last they had her out and up on her feet, albeit unsteadily. ‘Crook your arm under hers,’ Tom instructed. ‘She’s in no fit state to take her own weight, and I can’t get the wagon down here, so we’ll have to carry her out the best we can.’

  As they took her step by careful step towards the lane, she dragged her feet and murmured incoherently, and as the horse snickered, sensing something amiss, they lifted her gently onto the bench set into the back of the wagon. ‘There’s a rug under the driver’s seat. Fetch it, will you, lad?’ Tom grunted.

  While Davie went to get the rug, Tom made Rita comfortable. ‘It’s no good taking her back to your grandad’s house,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s the Infirmary she needs.’

  Davie gave no reply. Instead he sat beside his mother while Tom tucked the blanket around her. When she began shivering uncontrollably, Davie held her closer, trying to warm her, intent on making her safe.

  ‘Right, that should do it.’ Tom nodded. ‘Keep her as still as you can,’ he said as he climbed down. ‘We don’t know what injury she suffered when she fell.’

  Thankful that soon they would be on their way, Davie glanced down, astonished to see his mother looking straight back at him. The rain had stopped, and in the brightness of a new day, her eyes were incredibly beautiful. ‘I’m sorry, Davie,’ she said. ‘You’re a good boy.’ She then gave him a look of absolute love. ‘And I have been a bad mother. A bad…mother. Don’t hate…’ Her voice faded away.

  Davie felt her convulse in his arms, and then she was still, her wide eyes still turned on him, and
in that moment he knew. But he could not accept the truth, and in his overwhelming sorrow, he screamed out for Tom to help her. ‘HURRY! WE HAVE TO GO NOW! Hurry…oh, please hurry, Tom.’ The rending sobs tore through him and he couldn’t speak any more. Instead, he held her close, the scalding tears running down his face and onto hers. ‘Don’t go, Mam. Don’t leave me…’

  Tom drew the milk-cart to a halt and turned round. He saw, and it broke his heart.

  ‘She’s gone, lad.’ Inching close, he took hold of the boy’s arm. ‘There’s nothing we can do for her now.’ Tremulously reaching out, he placed his fingers over the dead woman’s sightless eyes and closed them. ‘Come away, son,’ he urged softly. ‘It’s out of our hands now. We’ll take your mammy where they’ll look after her. They’ll know what to do…’

  Suddenly startled when the boy leaped off the wagon and sped into the woods, Tom called after him, ‘No, Davie! Come back, lad!’

  Time and again, Tom called after him, but Davie was quickly gone, and Tom was afraid this might be the last he would ever see of him. ‘COME HOME TO THE FARM WHEN YOU’RE READY.’ He cupped his hands over his mouth. ‘MY HOME IS YOURS. I’LL BE THERE WHENEVER YOU NEED ME, DAVIE.’ His voice fell. ‘I’ll always be here for you, son. You must never forget that.’

  With a heavy heart he returned to cover Rita’s face. ‘The lad’s tekking it hard,’ he murmured as he wound her into the blanket. ‘It don’t matter what badness you’ve done, lady, he can’t help but love you.’ He made the sign of the cross over her, and prayed that she might find a kind of peace elsewhere, for she had found none on this earth.

  As he climbed into the seat, he stole another glance into the trees, but there was no sign of Davie, and no reply when he called his name. Licking his wounds, poor little bugger! Oh, but he’ll be back, God willing. You’ll see, when he’s all cried out, he’ll turn up at the farm, looking for his friends. And we’ll be there to help him through.

  Drawing a long deep breath through his nose, he held it for a while, before the words eased out on the crest of a sigh. ‘He’ll come back.’ He turned his head to look on the dark shadow that lay in the back of his cart. ‘I can only promise you, that when the lad does come home, we’ll take care of him.’

  Davie had a special place in his own family’s affections. Since toddlers, Davie and Tom’s own daughter, Judy, had played together, sharing every experience that youngsters share – learning to ride the ponies; chasing the rabbits into the hedge-rows; laughing at secret nothings that no mere adult can ever understand, and as they grew and blossomed so did their friendship until they were virtually inseparable.

  ‘Come home, son,’ he murmured. ‘Come home, where you belong.’

  Slowly shaking his head in despair, he clicked the old horse on; this time at a sedate and dignified pace.

  After all, with the way things were, there was no hurry now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘LOOK, MAM, HE’s home. Dad’s home!’

  Tom’s daughter Judy had been watching for him these past two hours. Now, as she saw the old milk-cart turn the bend in the lane, she took to her heels and ran to open the gate of Three Mills Farm. Her dad was back, and she needed a hug.Tom saw her coming and his heart burst with pride. How had he come to father such a lovely creature? Small-boned, with long willowing sun-kissed hair and eyes soft and grey as a dove, she was like a rainbow after rain to him.

  Right from when she was a toddler, Judy had been behind him everywhere he went, and now at the age of twelve, it was the same; whether he was milking the cows or stacking the hay, she was there. Most days, before and after school, she helped him in the fields or the barn, and when he was painting the house, she went before him, washing the picture-rails inside or the window-sills outside, or holding the ladder in case it slipped and he broke his worthless neck.

  And when she wasn’t helping him or her mammy, she was running across the valley with the local dogs at her heels. Other times she would sit quietly with the fishermen at the river, thrilled when they caught a fish and put it back, and sad at heart if they took it home to cook it.

  From a tender age, Judy was drawn to the water at every turn; Tom and Beth daren’t let her out of their sight in case she slipped into the river. So, when she was little more than a year old, they took her into the water and, as they expected, she loved it. Swimming had come naturally to her, until she was as much at home in the water as the fish themselves. ‘Should’ve been born with a tail and fins,’ her parents joked.

  When she wasn’t swimming or watching the fishermen, the little girl was running down the towpath, racing the barges as they made their lazy way alongside. She was kind and curious, totally fearless, and wherever she went, her smile went with her. Although her parents grieved that no other babbies had come along after her, to keep her company, they idolised their precious gift of a daughter.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ When the cart was slowed down, she scrambled up. ‘We’ve been looking out for you.’ Wrapping her arms about his neck, she gave her dad a long, affectionate cuddle. ‘Mam says you’ve been down the pub having a crafty pint.’

  ‘Does she now?’

  ‘Yes. She said you’d be talking and drinking and forget the time.’

  He laughed at that. ‘Another time she might well have been right, but not today, lass.’

  ‘So, where were you then, Daddy?’

  His smile fell away; his mind full of images he would rather not recall. ‘I didn’t get the milk-round done as quickly as I might have. Y’see, I were held up with summat entirely unexpected and it threw me right out of the routine.’ What with finding Davie’s mammy and taking her to the undertakers, then the police quizzing him, and afterwards serving his loyal customers and finishing the deliveries before going back to look for Davie, the day had sped by without him realising.

  ‘You promised to take me fishing. Did you forget?’

  ‘No, lass, I didn’t forget. Like I said, I had urgent business to attend to.’

  ‘What kind of business?’ Clicking the horse on, she let it amble towards the stable.

  ‘It’s not summat I want to talk about just now, our Judy.’

  Seeing his downcast face, she drew the horse to a halt. ‘Has something bad happened?’

  ‘Get along with you now,’ he urged tiredly. ‘It’s been a long day and I’ve a need to talk with your mammy.’

  Something in the tremor of his voice made her keep her silence. She wanted to know what had upset him so, but for now she could wait. And so she clicked the horse on again. ‘Mammy’s got the dinner all ready,’ she promised. ‘It’s your favourite – steak and onion pie.’

  Normally he would have smacked his lips at that, but not today. Today, Judy sensed he had something deeper on his mind. She realised it must be something very serious, otherwise he would have told her.

  For now though, she wisely left him to his thoughts and concentrated on the way ahead.

  Just as Judy promised, Beth had the meal all ready to serve. ‘Late again, Tom Makepeace!’ She tutted and fussed, and wrapping the tea-towel round her hands she took the meat pie from the oven. ‘It’s a wonder this pie isn’t burned to a cinder, and as for the vegetables, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they’ve turned to pulp.’ She might have continued with her good-natured scolding, but his thoughtful mood made her cautious. ‘What ’ave you got to say for yerself then?’

  ‘Not now, love.’ Heartsore and weary to the bone, Tom washed his hands at the sink. After drying them on the towel hanging from the range, he dropped himself into the armchair. ‘I’m beaten, lass,’ he muttered. ‘It’s been the worst day’Making the pie safe on the table, she wiped her hands on her pinnie and came to him. ‘Whatever’s wrong, Tom?’ She knew her man all too well, and she knew there was something troubling him deeply.

  He glanced anxiously across the room at Judy who had returned from the stable. ‘Come here, lass. There’s summat you both need to know.’ He recalled how deeply devoted to D
avie she was, and he feared the effect his news might have on her.

  With trepidation, Judy came to her mother and the two of them waited for Tom to explain. ‘It’s bad news,’ he warned grimly. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to tell it.’

  And so he told it straight; how Davie’s mam had come home drunk and abusive once too often, and of how, after too long being patient and forgiving, her husband had walked out.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Beth was shocked. ‘What about the boy and his grandfather? Couldn’t they persuade him to stay and give it one last try – for Davie’s sake if not for theirs?’

  ‘Is Davie all right?’ Judy’s anxious question turned Tom’s heart.

  ‘Hear me out, lass. I’m not done yet.’ He enveloped them both in the sweep of his gaze.

  Instinctively clinging to her mother, Judy fell silent; and Tom continued.

  Firstly he answered Beth’s question. ‘From what I could gather, Don didn’t want to leave without Davie, but the boy decided to stay behind, with his mammy.’ He paused and sighed, then quietly continued. ‘It seems the grandfather had come to the end of his tether, too. There was a row of sorts, and after Don left, the old man threw Rita out, bag and baggage.’

  He quickly imparted how the boy had decided to go with his mother and look after her as best he could, though his grandad didn’t much care for that idea. In fact, old Joseph was so upset that he told them both to sling their hooks and good riddance, more or less.

  And then he relayed the worst news of all.

  ‘I was driving past the woods during my round when I heard young Davie shouting for help. His mammy had suffered a fall and hurt herself badly. By the time I got to her, she were drifting in and out of consciousness.’ He recalled the sad sight of her, and cleared his throat. All day long, he had wanted to make his way back home to Three Mills Farm, and confide the news to his wife, for it was she he always turned to when in times of trouble. But events had taken over and, as it turned out, there was little opportunity.