The Loner

by Josephine Cox

  ‘He’s not a child any more, lad,’ the old man cautioned. ‘He might not want to come home. He suffered a bad time here, and who of us could blame him, if he’s decided to leave it all behind once and for all?’

  Don sighed with all the strength of the loss within him. ‘Don’t I know it, for wasn’t it me who walked out on him and his mammy … and may the Good Lord for give me.’ He cast his mind back to that night, and the way Davie had stood his ground like a man. ‘He’ll have had his twentieth birthday now – be a young man, grown and changed – and who knows? He may even have a wife and child of his own!’

  Joseph was not convinced. ‘Somehow, deep down I don’t think so,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve all us believed his future is here, with family and friends.’ In the deeper recesses of his mind, the old man had always known that Davie belonged to Judy, and she to him. Sadly, he had been proved wrong, because now Davie was long gone, and Judy was promised to another. So if he was wrong in that, he could also be wrong in assuming that Davie’s future was here.

  With that in mind, he wondered if Don was right after all – and whether, in the years gone by since the family was split – Davie had set down permanent roots elsewhere.

  His old heart sank at the thought.

  ‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ Evie Needham popped her head round the bedroom door, to find Annie lying on top of her bed, gazing at the ceiling, and seemingly miles away. ‘Annie!’

  Jolted out of her thoughts, the girl sat up. ‘Oh, Mam … thank God it’s you.’Evie entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘O’ course it’s me,’ she said. ‘Who else would it be?’

  Annie evaded the question. ‘I was just thinking about the wedding, and everything.’

  ‘There’s time enough during the day to think about that.’ Evie glanced at the bedside clock. ‘It’s going on midnight -I thought you’d be fast asleep by now. Come Saturday you’ll have bags under your eyes the size of balloons. You’ve not slept properly these past few weeks. What’s wrong, luv? If there’s something playing on your mind, I’d like to know, so’s we can put it to rest.’

  Annie brightened her smile. ‘There’s nothing wrong, except I’m a bit nervous about being a bridesmaid. I’ve never done it before, and I want to look my best for Judy’

  ‘I expect it is a bit daunting,’ her mother conceded. ‘First-time bridesmaid … walking down the aisle, tummy a-fluttering and all eyes on the bride and you.’

  Annie laughed out loud. ‘Well, that’s made me feel much better, I must say!’

  Her mother laughed with her. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, luv,’ she chuckled, ‘I didn’t mean to worry you. But look, it’ll be fine… wonderful! So long as you’re properly organised. Are you?’

  ‘Far as I know, yes.’

  ‘Have you hung up your dress to keep the creases out?’

  ‘Yes. Look for yourself if you like.’

  ‘And are your new shoes polished?’

  ‘Till you can see your face in them, yes.’

  ‘And have you walked about the bedroom in them, so’s they’re not uncomfortable on the day?’

  ‘Yes, Mam.’ Annie showed her the red rubs on her big toe. ‘They were a bit tight at first, but they’re all right now.’

  ‘Good! Oh, and where’s that little cloth flower I made for the shoulder of your dress? Did you put it in the drawer with your long white gloves, like I told you?’

  ‘Yes, Mam.’

  ‘And have you checked your appointment with the hairdresser, and don’t forget you need your nails done. They’ll happen organise that to be done, while you’re under the dryer.’

  ‘Oh, Mam!’ Annie gave her a kiss to shut her up. ‘Will you please stop fussing?’ Much as she loved her mother, Annie wanted her gone. She had so much to think about, and right now she didn’t know which way to turn. She desperately needed to confide in someone. But who? She couldn’t tell her mam, because it would break her heart if she knew the truth – and on top of that, she might not believe her, and then what?

  She had almost told Lenny in the shop the other day, but then a customer came in and she lost her nerve. Deep down though, she was relieved not to have told him; the shame of it all was too crippling. She couldn’t tell Judy either, not with the wedding day so close. And even if she were to pluck up courage and confide in her friend, what could Judy do? What could anyone do?

  No! It was her problem, and it was up to her to find a solution. The whole thing had gone on far too long. One way or another she must find the courage to put an end to it, once and for all, whatever the consequences.

  With her mind racing on, she didn’t hear her mother talking to her, until Evie gave her a shake. ‘Annie! Are you listening to me?’

  ‘Sorry, Mam.’ Pushing the frightening thoughts to the back of her mind, she focused on her mother.

  ‘No, lass, I’m the one who’s sorry. You look dead beat.’ Evie gave her a hug, before standing up to leave. ‘Come on. Get into bed, now. Try and sleep.’

  ‘I will, Mam, thanks.’

  ‘There you are…’ Drawing back the covers, Evie waited until the girl had slithered into bed. ‘Good night then, luv, see you in the morning. We’ll talk then, eh?’

  Annie nodded gratefully, yawning until her eyes watered. ‘Good night, Mam.’

  With her mother gone, Annie closed her eyes and let the sleep wash over her.

  But, as usual, she slept lightly, on the alert, and it wasn’t long before the dreams came, and with them, the descent into true darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DON ADAMS WAS bone weary.

  In the fortnight since leaving Blackburn, he had hitched several rides, not caring where he went, but heading south almost unconsciously. He had walked the pavements nonstop, studying each and every passing face; calling at shops, factories and any place where people gathered.He placed notices in shop windows, asking if anyone knew the whereabouts of David Adams, and giving a description. He asked for people to please write to the Blackburn address below; there would be a small reward, he promised.

  Anywhere and everywhere, he tirelessly enquired after his son. He showed the photograph of a teenaged boy, when in truth he was looking for a man. And at the end of the day, he seemed no nearer to finding him.

  It was early one summer evening when a truck driver delivered him to a small village not far from Birmingham. Don tried knocking at several bed and breakfast places, and he didn’t really blame the local landladies, with their pinnies and turbans and lovely Brummie accents, when they turned him down; for he’d been up with the dawn and on the road ever since, so it was no wonder he looked like a tramp. Moreover, the last place he’d searched was the local pub, and was it his fault if he’d sunk a few bevvies to lighten his weary heart? It was completely out of Don’s normal character to do so, but tonight he was feeling very lost.

  Darkness was closing in when he found himself down a country lane. Disillusioned and so tired he could hardly think straight, he was beginning to wonder if he would ever find Davie.

  As he leaned over the fence, head down and eyes closed as he wondered which way to go next, the roughness of a warm tongue licked against his face. ‘What the … !’ Re e ling backwards, he was pleasantly surprised to see a horse, her huge brown eyes staring curiously at this stranger who had dared to intrude on her patch.

  Reaching out, Don gently roamed the flat of his hand along the mare’s neck, ruffling the mane and taking pleasure in the animal’s curiosity. ‘You’re a friendly girl, an’ no mistake,’ he said. ‘A lot moreso than some o’ the people I’ve met along the way.’

  As he climbed the fence and headed up the hill to the barn he’d seen earlier, the horse followed. Don chatted to the beast as they both climbed the grassy slopes. The stars shone down on two legs and four as they made towards the barn.

  ‘Aw, yer a lucky lady, so ye are,’ Don observed companionably. ‘You’re a big handsome beauty, well fed and watered, and pregnant too, by the look of it. I expect you wa
nt for nothing.’ He stopped to stroke the horse’s nose again.

  ‘My guess is you’ve won a lot o’ prizes in your time,’ he hiccuped.

  It was good to talk, and besides, the tongue was always looser when lubricated with the golden nectar. ‘I’ll have ye know I’m not a stranger to horses, oh no! Sure wasn’t I born and bred in County Kilkenny.’ Tripping over a molehill, Don quickly righted himself again. ‘I’m not drunk – don’t think that, my friend!’ He laughed. ‘Although I’ll have you know, there was a time when I could out drink and outfight any man alive.’ He sighed. ‘Oh, but that was a long time ago, when I was young and foolish, and desperate to impress the pretty girls.’ His wife Rita came into his mind, and for a time he fell silent.

  Having reached the barn, he pushed open the creaking old door. ‘Is there anybody in there?’ he called out, then answered himself: ‘Nobody but me.’

  Turning to the horse who was right behind him, he instructed her to, ‘Keep a guard on me, will ye? Sure, I don’t fancy anybody sneaking up an’ catching me unawares.’ If truth be told, he had never felt comfortable in the dark, more especially if he was on his own and, like now, in hostile territory.

  Striking a match, he took a quick look about. ‘Quiet as the grave!’ He glanced outside and again inside, and when he was satisfied that the place was not already occupied, he stretched and groaned, and taking off his coat, he spread it out over the straw.

  He then began shouting and yelling like a banshee, and beating the walls with his fists. ‘Rats! Rats! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!’ The horse snickered in fright, but there was no sign of any scuttling creatures.

  Satisfied, Don Adams bedded himself down on the straw and fell into a deep restful sleep.

  When the dawn rose in the skies, he was rudely awakened by the sharp end of a shotgun in his ribs. ‘Who the devil are you? And what d’you think you’re doing in my barn?’

  Don opened his eyes to see a small, shrew like figure of a man standing over him. ‘What the … ?’ For a moment, he was disorientated, but when he realised the danger he was in, he tried to scramble up. However, the man dug the shotgun into his chest and held him there. ‘I want to know what you’re doing in my barn!’ For good measure, he gave him a light kick with the toe of his boot.‘I mean no harm, sir.’ Fearing for his life, Don thrust his arms into the air. ‘I’ve been travelling the road looking for my son, and I needed a place to lay my head.’ If he had had a mind, he could have taken a chance and had the little runt on his backside, but there was no sense in arguing with the business end of a shotgun.

  ‘Were you here to steal my horse?’

  ‘No, sir, I wasn’t, not at all, no.’

  ‘Was it you who burgled my house last week? And don’t lie or I’ll have your head off and hung on a pole!’

  ‘How could I have burgled your house when I only just got here last night?’

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘Up north. Like I said, I’m searching for my son.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  Don took discreet stock of the little man. Was he really as gormless as he seemed, or was he play-acting?

  ‘I just told you – I’ve travelled down from the north to find him. I’ve no idea where he is, and my arms are aching, so if you don’t mind …’

  He began lowering his arms, until the man put the shotgun to his temple. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you!’

  Don didn’t quite know what to make of this little leprechaun. ‘Sure I’ve do neno wrong, other than sleep a few hours in your measly barn, with the wind whistling through the cracks and freezing the are off me. And no, I haven’t burgled your house, and I don’t mean to steal your horse. I’m here in this godforsaken place, because my family went through a bad time some years back; my wife died and my son ran away. I’m doing no harm here. So, all I’m asking is that you let me up and I’ll be on my way.’

  The man raised the shotgun. ‘All right. Get up … but don’t try anything, mister, because I’m watching you!’

  Don got up, not surprised to see how he towered above the little creature, but the shotgun pointed straight at him was more than enough to keep the balance between them.

  The farmer looked him up and down, and with his beady eye trained on the intruder, he lowered the gun to his side, though keeping it ever ready. ‘Irish, aren’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘That I am.’

  ‘Hmh! I had an old aunt who was Irish. Daft as a bat, but she’d give you the shirt off her back.’

  ‘I had one the same,’ he said to keep the man sweet.

  ‘Is that where you’ve travelled from … Ireland?’

  ‘No. I’ve lived many years in Lancashire … a town called Blackburn.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  Surprised, Don shook his head.

  ‘Come on then. I’ll see what I can do.’

  As they walked on, Don assured him, ‘It really is like I said.’ Taking a photo from his pocket, he showed it to him. ‘This is my son, David. You wouldn’t have seen him by any chance, would you?’

  Stopping in his tracks, the little man took the picture and studied it. ‘Mmm,’ he kept saying. ‘Mmm …’

  Don grew hopeful. ‘So – have you seen him?’

  ‘No.’ The little man shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. But he seems a nice young chap.’

  Disheartened, Don retrieved the picture and slid it back into his pocket. ‘He’s older now, by a good few years.’

  ‘So why areyou showing that photograph, when likeas not hedoesn’t resembleit oneiota?’

  The younger man shrugged. ‘It’s all I’ve got.’

  They had arrived at the farmhouse – a scruffy place, but homely enough. ‘It’s nothing grand, but it’s mine.’ The little man bade Don to sit at the table. ‘I carenothing for bricks and mortar, and fancy things. It’s the land that I pride, and my beasts. As for that horse, she’s my favourite of them all. I’ve been working with horses since I was knee-high to a gnat.’ He laughed. ‘Not that I’m much taller than that nowadays, though I say it myself.’

  Cracking a couple of eggs into a frying pan, he slid it onto the stove and gave Don a sideways glance. ‘I don’t suppose you know much about horses, do you?’

  ‘Well, I was brought up with them in Ireland, but that was a long time ago. I’m a joiner by trade.’

  ‘Ah, but you might surprise yourself.’ The little man had seen how his pregnant mare was patrolling the barn when he got there, and afterwards, as they walked back to the gate, she followed the stranger faithfully, even nuzzling him once or twice.

  ‘Jenny here doesn’t take to strangers easily – tetchy sort, she is.’ He regarded the Irishman in a different light. ‘But she took to you right enough.’

  ‘So she did,’ Don said. ‘Oh, and by the look of her she’s due to foal any day now, isn’t she?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t know about horses?’

  ‘I don’t, but I know enough about the female species to realise when the belly is swollen with offspring.’

  The little man nodded. ‘Huh! Observant then, eh?’

  ‘If you like.’

  A few minutes later the meal was cooked to perfection – egg, bacon, black pudding and tomatoes, accompanied by a large pot of tea, and a pile of thick toast dripping with best butter.

  ‘Do you need a place to stay?’ The little man sat at the table with him.

  Don wasn’t sure. ‘I’ve a mind to keep going, but I’m tired, to be honest, and I need to plan where to go next.’

  ‘There’s a cabin – not much, I’ll admit – but it’s got a bed and a stove and there’s an old radio. You’re welcome to use it, until such a time as you’re ready to move on.’

  Don chuckled. ‘One minute you’ recalling me a thief and a burglar and threatening to shoot me, and the next, you’re cooking me breakfast and offering me a place to lay my head.’ He didn’t expect something for nothing. ‘All right! What’s the catch?’

  ‘There’s no catch.�
��

  ‘There has to be.’

  The little man chewed his bacon and took a swig of his tea. ‘Well now, if you mean, can you do something for me in return, there is one thing. Y’see, I’m a one-man band here, and with the mares in foal, it’s a busy time.’ He cocked an eye at Don. ‘It’ll mean handling horses, and you might be called on to bring one or two young ’uns into the world. So, what d’you say?’

  ‘All right then.’ Don could hardly refuse when he had been treated to breakfast and offered a place to sleep. ‘But I won’t stay long – a few days maybe- and then I’ll be moving on.’ He looked the other man in the face. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘It’s Jimmy – Jimmy Benson – and who am I talking to?’

  ‘Don Adams, and my son’s name is David.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Jimmy lapsed into deep thought once more. ‘Mmm … Davie, eh?’

  ‘Are you sure you haven’t seen him?’

  Jimmy looked up. ‘Well, don’t get your hopes up, but there was something about the picture of your boy. I’m not sure- it could be something and nothing. Y’see, I’ve got a neighbour with four lads, and they all look alike to me. I’m not good with children. Never had any, nor wanted ’em either.’ He grimaced. ‘Never met a woman who wanted me.’

  Don sat up. Ignoring the last remark, her apped out, ‘Did you see him somewhere? Did he come through here? For God’s sake, think, man!’

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘No, I must be mistaken. No, I’m sorry. Like I say, they all look alike to me. But I’ll keep it all in mind, I promise.’ As far as he was concerned, the subject was closed.

  But not for Don. This was the first real glimpse of hope he’d had.

  When breakfast was over, Jimmy said, ‘Right! It’s time you saw where you’ll be working, and what I’m asking of you. After you’ve seen what it entails, if you want to change your mind, I won’t hold you to your word.’