The Loner

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The Loner Page 21

by Josephine Cox


  ‘What … you mean mop the floor and wash the walls, and then if I’ve time, check the plumbing and happen fix a new sink in the back? Will that do, sir? Or is there more?’ It was odd how her heart sang when she was with him.

  He mimicked her mood. ‘Well, we already know for a fact there’s more to do than mop the floor and get stuck into a bit of plumbing.’ He laughed. ‘Why don’t I let you renew the roof and rewire the entireplacewhileyou’reat it?’

  ‘All right then …’ Anniegot serious. ‘What did you have in mind?’ Whatever it was, it was nothing likewhat she had in mind, that was for sure.

  ‘I just need to talk over my ideas with you, about colour schemes, shelving and layout – that sort of thing?’

  ‘Well, yeah, o’ course. I’d enjoy that. When were you thinking?’

  His facelit up. ‘If you’renot doing anything right now, I’vegot thekey.’ Digging into his pocket he took out a long iron key and waved it under her nose.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you asked Judy?’ Annie said carefully.

  ‘Not yet, not until it’s all finished. I want it to bea surprise.’

  ‘I see.’ Shecould comeand do thedonkey work, but Judy wouldn’t haveto lift a finger. But Annie didn’t blameanyone. It was only what shemight have expected.

  ‘So, will you comewith menow and look it over?’ he said eagerly. ‘Can I steal a few minutes of your time?’

  Annie didn’t need asking twice. In fact, if Lenny wanted to ‘steal’ the rest of her life, it would be his for thetaking.

  They spent a full hour in the shop. ‘You were right,’ Annie said, stepping over a jutting floorboard. ‘It is a disaster.’

  But the two of them had great ideas, and taking out a pencil, Lenny drew a plan on the wall. ‘I see it like this.’ He sketched out his ideas.

  Annie then sketched her ideas, and together they worked out the perfect layout for the shop. Afterwards he took her for a bite to eat and coffee at the nearby Wimpy Bar and the ideas continued to flow, until he walked her to the tram-stop, where they waved cheerio.

  With Annie safely on her way, Lenny went to the pub, where he continued making notes and plans, and before he realised it, the time had run away with him. In jaunty mood, grateful for Annie’s help and deeply satisfied with his day’s work, he madehis way homeunder thestars.

  As he came up the street, yawning and ready for bed, Lenny saw the figure of a man climbing out of a car outsidehis home; in thelamplight, he recognised the tall man in the long dark overcoat. What was he doing here?

  Over the past few years – ever since he’d left school, really, he’d become aware of this man taking an interest in him. If they passed in the High Street, the man would nod and Lenny would acknowledge him. But they never spoke. It was strange, theboy thought. Almost as if heshould know him, although hedidn’t. Ron and Patsy (he no longer called them ‘Mam’ and ‘Dad’) had never mentioned him … Oh well, Lenny thought tiredly. It was one of life’s little mysteries. He had enough on his plate at the moment, to bother worrying about that.

  However, as he came further down the street, a deeper memory was triggered from his boyhood. This sameman had called round to thehouse once. He could hazily recall his mother arguing with theman, and another timehehad found them whispering downstairs. He remembered how nervous his mother became, when he asked her who theman was. From that day to this, hehad never again seen the man at the house. Until now.

  Instinctively, he backed into the shadows. There was no mistaking him: it was thesameman. Who was he? What did he want with the Reynolds family? Lenny’s curiosity was heightened. If he had cometo seeRon, hewould beunlucky. When the visitor was let into the house, Lenny carefully started forward. Ron was over at a mate’s house, helping him build a shed in the yard, and if he ran trueto form, hewouldn’t berolling homefor ages yet.

  Suddenly, though he did not know why, it was important to Lenny to know why the man was here.

  Taking out his key, he slid it quietly into the front-door lock and turned it; with trepidation he pushed open the door and softly closed it behind him.

  Already he could hear raised voices coming from thesitting room. ‘You’d best givemewhat I’m owed,’ his mother was saying angrily, ‘or I’ll shout thetruth from therooftops – and then what will you do, eh?’ Shegavea low, harsh laugh.

  The man’s contemptuous answer was enough to stem the laughter. ‘You silly bitch! You can shout and yell all you like, and I won’t give a bugger!’

  ‘What areyou talking about?’ Shocked by his defiance, she demanded, ‘I want my money. That was the agreement, and as far as I’m concerned, nothing’s happened to change it.’

  ‘You bloody fool, you’renot listening! Can’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you? She’s left me. Janette found the letters we exchanged and now she’s gone – and she’s taken young Charlie with her. Worse than that, she told her father and he’s pulled the rug from under me. He’s kicked meout of thefamily business, and taken back the house we’ve lived in all these years.’

  ‘You’re lying, Stuart. Now hand over my money!’

  Lenny heard a scuffle. Then: ‘LISTEN TO WHAT I’M SAYING!’ Theman’s voicebrokein a kind of sob. ‘I’vegot nothing – no family, no home and without references, no job. So don’t ask mefor money, becausethanks to you, I’vegot none!’

  There was the sound of another scuffle, and of furniturefalling over. ‘GET OUT BEFORE I TAKE THE POKER TO YOU!’ Patsy roared. Her voiceshaking with rage, shewarned him, ‘You haven’t heard the last of this by any means. We had an agreement and by God, if you know what’s best for you, you’ll find what’s owed me. I don’t care where you get it. Just make sure you bring it before the end of the week.’

  ‘And if I can’t?’

  ‘We ll, now …’ He r voicewas slimy-wicked. ‘It isn’t just your wifeand father-in-law who think you’re the worst kind of scum. There’s somebody else who might want to knock seven bells out of you when heknows thetruth – or haveyou forgotten?’

  ‘No. I haven’t forgotten,’ the man called Stuart said tiredly. ‘In fact, that’s the other reason I’m here.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Lenny’s mother sounded suspicious.

  ‘It means I have to start again from scratch, and I don’t like the idea of doing it all by myself. And besides, I’ve been watching him. He’s a good strong fellow, with a clever head on his shoulders, and I understand he’s bought the old tailor’s shop on the High Street. Oh yes, I’m sure the two of us will work together very well.’

  ‘So that’s it. You’restill thesamecunning bastard you’ve always been!’ Now, she was bundling him into the passageway; though as yet neither of them had seen Lenny standing there against the wall in theshadow of thehallstand. ‘It’s not Lenny you’re after at all, is it, eh? You’ve seen how he’s making good, and you want a piece of it.’ She laughedinhis face.‘Onceheknows about you,he’ll be so disgusted he won’t even want to shake your hand, never mind work with you!’ She gave him a mighty shove. ‘It wereme as brought him up, wiped his backside and washed his smelly socks, and it’s mewho’ll havefirst call on whatever fortunehe makes. So bugger off, and don’t come back, or —’

  She was shocked to her roots when Lenny stepped out. ‘My God, Len, it’s you. Christ – you gavemea fright. I didn’t seeyou there…’ Flustered, she took the man by the arm, and smiled her best. ‘This is Stuart Fitzwilliam, an old friend of me and your dad,’ she told Lenny. ‘He’s just leaving. I’ll see him out … you go inside, son.’

  His face set sternly, Lenny blocked her way. ‘Who is he, Mam?’ His voice was ice-cold. ‘What is heto me?’

  ‘Nobody! Nothing!’ She had never seen Lenny look at her like that before, and she was shaken. ‘Like I said, he’s just a friend.’

  Lenny addressed himself to the man. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I think you know.’ There was a certain satisfaction in the man’s voice. ‘I’m your father. I’ve come to
take you away from her, back with me. You don’t belong here, in this squalid dump. You never did.’

  Lenny took stock of him, this respectable-looking, smartly dressed man with the sad eyes, and her, Patsy, beside him, bold as brass, her false smilehiding a multitudeof sins. ‘Is that right?’ he asked of her. ‘Is this man really my father?’

  ‘No!’ She was screaming now. ‘Don’t listen to him. Whatever he tells you, it’s a lie – a downright lie!’

  Theman’s voicecut in. ‘Wehad an affair, and you were the outcome. Like Patsy, I was married, and though I’ve always regretted it, there was no placefor you in my life. Sincetheday you were born, Patsy and Ron both agreed to keep you, as long as I paid. And my God, haveI paid! I’vepaid through thenoseto keep you in houseand home, and more besides. Bled me dry they have, all these years. A few meaningless afternoons of sex with her, and I’ve been made to pay a million times over. But now, it’s finished. You are my son, and I want you with me.’

  Hesmiled likethecat who had thecream. ‘We’ll do all right, son, you and me together.’

  When he made to lay his hand on Lenny’s shoulder, the young man grabbed him by the wrist and held him off. For a long, revealing moment, hestared at theman, unableor unwilling to believe what he had just been told. And yet, deep down, he knew – and it was a blessed relief.

  When he spoke, it was in a calm, collected manner. ‘All my life I’ve never felt that I belonged. Somehow, I knew I was not a part of this family. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been rejected, unloved and punished, for something that was not of my doing. While you played Happy Families, I was nothing, a nobody. Alone, and made to feel guilty for being alive.’

  His eyes hardened like bright marbles. ‘You have no idea how it’s been … no idea.’

  Stuart Fitzwilliam stepped forward, a look of alarm on his face. ‘But that’s all over now, son. I’vecometo claim you. I’vealways wanted you, but it was difficult. You have to believe me …’

  Lenny’s confident smile belied the hurt he was feeling. ‘All those years, and you never once acknowledged me. And now, it makes no difference whether you want me or you don’t.’

  Looking from oneto theother, heinformed them in a quietly controlled voice, ‘It’s too late, because I don’t want you – any of you.’

  His accusing gaze lingered on the woman he had always believed was his mother, but who had never loved him in that way. ‘I came home tonight to tell you that I would be moving out in a week or so,’ he said. ‘But after what I’ve heard here this night, it’s best if I go now.’

  He spoke with pride. ‘At long last I’m free of you – of all of you. From now on, there’s no need for me to feel guilty or unwanted. I can be my own man.’

  His voice hardened. ‘As long as I live, I never want to see or hear from you again.’

  ‘You ungrateful little toe-rag!’ Patsy hit out, but when hecaught her by thearm, shebegan to sob. ‘You owemefor taking careof you all theseyears. You owe me!’

  ‘I oweyou nothing!’ Hebrushed by them. ‘Now get out of my way.’ Heran up thestairs and into theroom which heshared with his younger brother – half-brother, he reminded himself. He closed thedoor and sat on theedgeof thebed, shaking his head and trying to take it all in. ‘She’s right,’ he muttered. ‘I am a bastard. I belong to nobody.’

  And then he remembered Judy, and Annie too. ‘Thank You, Lord,’ hemurmured, ‘for thekind and honest people You brought into my life.’

  Quickly now, hepacked a bag and ran down the stairs; the man gone, the woman pleading for him to stay. He didn’t hear; he wanted no more of it. So, without a word or backward glance, he fled from that place.

  This house, these people, were his past. The future was out there, and he meant to grasp it with both hands.

  PART FOUR

  Bedfordshire, 1962

  The Dark Horse

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE LATE MONTHS of December 1961 had been unusually hard in Bedfordshire, with days and nights of snowfall. Some drifts were so high they brought traffic to a standstill and made everyday life very difficult.

  Winter had arrived with a vengeance, catching everyone unawares. People in isolated places were trapped, animals were lost in the far fields, pipes were frozen and schools had to close their doors to the children. And when the thaw came, it was with the same ferocity. The ice melted and the waters ran headlong down the banks and valleys and into the streets. Shops were flooded and emergency services were tried to the limit.It had been a costly time, but now they were into the month of January, and chaos was replaced with normality. There were still cold, breezy days, but with the odd flicker of bright sunshine.

  And the harsh months of 1961 already seemed a distant memory.

  This particular Saturday afternoon was pleasantly mild, and having time to spare, Lucy strolled into the stable to see if Dave was there. She loved chatting to him. Humming her favourite Buddy Holly song, ‘Listen To Me’, she was feeling on top of the world, but her good mood came to a halt, along with the song, when she saw the expression on his face. Dave was checking the hooves of her father’s best mare, Molly. ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ he told her grimly. ‘I saw her limping a few days ago when Seamus was riding her back from the fields.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’ Lucy came closer.

  ‘Yes, but he rounded on me – said it was none of my business and that he was dealing with it. I took that to mean he’d already seen the vet and was treating it. But when I came in this morning, she was sweating badly. I suspected an infection, but I couldn’t be certain until I took a look.’

  Bending down, he raised the mare’s hoof to wedge it between his knees; as he prodded it with the flat blade of the knife, he reeled from the stink that came up. ‘Jesus!’

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Dave didn’t answer straight away. Instead, holding his breath against the stench, he gently dug until he had located the culprit – a long bramble-thorn deeply driven into the mare’s soft hoof. With that done he eased the iron-shoe away, reeling again when the pus was revealed.

  ‘Well done, girl.’ Patting her side, he carefully lowered the mare’s leg to the ground and when in distress she hobbled over to the far corner, he burst out of the stable, securing the door behind him. ‘Damn it!’ He shook his head angrily. ‘What in God’s name is Seamus playing at? Why didn’t he get the vet out to her?’

  ‘Is it bad?’ Lucy could see he was worried. ‘Will she be all right?’

  ‘Not if Seamus has anything to do with it. It’s real bad, Lucy. The infection has gone right down into the soft flesh. There’s a mass of pulp and the hoof was tightly swollen under the shoe. We’d best get the vet out straight away. She’s in a lot of pain.’

  Following him to the yard office, Lucy waited anxiously while Dave telephoned the vet; he was in the middle of describing the mare’s symptoms, when Lucy’s father arrived. Standing in the doorway, Frank Thomson listened to Dave’s every word.

  ‘By my reckoning, the hoof’s been infected for some days now,’ Dave was explaining. ‘No, I’ve no idea why you weren’t called earlier. Yes, I managed to dig out the thorn, and I prised the shoe off … lots of pus, yes. She’s got a temperature. She seems in a bad way.’

  He finished the conversation. ‘Thank you. Yes, I will.’

  Frank was at his side as he put the receiver down, his face hard and angry. ‘Where’s Seamus?’ While Dave was talking, Lucy had told her father everything she knew.

  ‘I saw him go off about an hour ago. He should be back soon.’

  ‘Show me!’ Enraged, he stormed out of the office.

  Together with Dave and Lucy, he went straight for the mare’s stable. Dave was the first in. ‘Oh no, she’s gone down!’ Lying flat on her side and panting heavily, the mare was struggling to breathe.

  Shouting instructions to them, Dave went inside. ‘We need buckets of hot water and salt … plenty of salt, and towels … some cotton-wool. Quickly
, Lucy. HURRY!’

  While Lucy ran to get help, Dave tended the horse and Frank got to his knees, soothing the stressed animal and promising her that she would be all right.

  By the time the vet arrived, Dave had drawn out as much of the foul-smelling pus as he could, before bathing the hoof several times in warm salt-water. Lucy was laying cold compresses across the mare’s forehead, and Frank was in the office, having summoned two of the junior grooms, to satisfy himself that they had had no idea how bad the mare was. ‘We’re never allowed near her,’ admitted the young girl. ‘Seamus keeps us up the other end of the yard.’

  Frank excused them, and when they were gone he slammed his fist on the desk. ‘You’ve a lot to answer for, my man!’ he growled. ‘It seems you’ve forgotten whose yard this is!’

  In the stables, the vet had concluded his examination. ‘How is she?’ Both Dave and Lucy were deeply concerned. ‘Will she be all right?’ Dave sensed the news was not good.

  Scrambling to his feet, the vet slowly shook his head. ‘Where’s Frank?’ He and Frank had known each other these past ten years and more.

  ‘He’s in the office, I think.’ Before he could leave, Dave needed to know. ‘Will she pull through?’

  ‘I’m not sure. We’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘But she’s got to be all right!’ Lucy was close to tears.

  The vet explained, ‘If the infection had been treated earlier, she would have had a better chance of recovering. But it’s been left so long, there are complications. Her lungs are affected.’ He spoke solemnly. ‘I’ve done all I can; it’s up to her now. All you can do is stay with her, keep her warm and calm, and hope the antibiotics do their work. But like I say, it’s not good.’

  ‘But when will we know?’ Lucy asked brokenly. ‘What else can we do?’

  ‘There is nothing else to be done,’ he assured her. ‘The next twenty-four hours will be crucial.’ He glanced at Dave. ‘It might be as well if Miss Thomson waits inside the house.’

 

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