Three Letters. Josephine Cox

great pride, as in the way he loved Tom and Granddad Bob; while she was incapable of loving anyone. Over the years, she had watched the boy grow into a fine young person under Tom’s guidance, and every day she was punished because of it. Yet, she had never told, and never would.

      Even as a baby, when Casey held up his chubby arms for a cuddle, she would turn away – much as she had turned away from her family, where she had looked in vain for love, and even from Tom, a man of principle. A hard-working man, who had always provided for her, and who had, from an early age, loved her without question.

      Tom and the boy were not of her world. They were too safe, too predictable. Since childhood she had never wanted a safe world.

      And for that, she had neither regrets, nor peace. She had hardened her heart, vowing never to let others hurt her, but they had hurt her, and the pain was like a living thing inside her. It had taught her that love could only ever bring pain.

      ‘RUTH!’

      ‘What now?’ Startled out of her reverie, she raged at him, ‘I won’t change my mind. I mean to keep the boy, and there is nothing you or your father can do about it. When the time comes, I’ll make sure he knuckles down, and learns a useful trade. You might be running away, but I won’t allow him to go. It won’t be long before he’ll need to take up his responsibilities. There’ll be no more time wasted on music and such, I’ll make sure of it.’

      ‘Not if I can help it, you won’t! His granddad thinks as I do.’

      ‘For pity’s sake, what’s wrong with you? He’s a boy, he should be outside playing football or fighting in the playground, or being trained for summat that might earn him a living, like building or plumbing. Instead he’s wasting his time holding a piece o’ wood and making noises that no one cares about. He’s useless, and the sooner he gets out of school and into a proper job, the happier I’ll be, and that’s the truth.’

      Casey had retreated into the passage to lean forlornly against the far wall. ‘Look at him!’ Ruth screeched. ‘Hugging that damned guitar like it were summat precious. It’s nothing but a piece o’ wood, that’s all. Useless … like him!’

      Deeply hurt, Casey stepped forward. ‘You don’t understand. When I played in assembly, everybody stood up and clapped. Miss Hardwick said it was beautiful, but you never heard me because you weren’t even there. You don’t care about anything I do.’ When the tears began to flow, he wiped his eyes and brought his sorry gaze to the floor.

      Unmoved, Ruth rounded on Tom. ‘Now, see what you’ve done. You’ve got him thinking he’s summat special. He thinks that piece o’ wood is his future, but it’s not and never will be. It won’t earn him a wage, and it won’t make him a man. It’s nothing! D’you hear me?’

      Suddenly she rushed across the room and grabbed the guitar out of Casey’s arms. Fighting Tom off as he tried to stop her, she smashed the instrument against the wall where the cover split open, shooting out splinters of wood and tangled strings.

      ‘That’s what I think of yer precious guitar.’

      When she tried to raise the guitar again, Tom wrestled her onto a chair, his voice trembling with anger. ‘You know how much that guitar meant to Casey. Why would you do such a wicked thing?’

      ‘Huh! I don’t know why I didn’t smash that thing long ago,’ Ruth sneered.

      Tom wrapped an arm about Casey’s shoulders. ‘It’ll be all right, son,’ he assured him. Carefully placing the broken instrument into its cover, he handed it to him, saying. ‘Take it with you, and wait for me at the end of the street.’

      ‘Yeah, go on!’ As the boy made his way along the passage, his mother’s vicious rantings followed him. ‘Get off to yer granddad Bob. Tell him not to mek you too comfortable, ’cause I’ll be along soon enough to fetch yer back!’

      With Casey out of earshot, Tom turned on her. ‘What kind of creature are you?’ He remained outwardly calm, though he would gladly have throttled her there and then. ‘If I had any doubts about taking Casey away from here, you’ve just proved that I’ve made the right decision.’

      Without another word, he walked out of the room and along the passage.

      Ruth ran after him. ‘Think you’re the man, don’t yer, eh? If you try and take my son, I’ll ’ave the police on yer! You’ve no rights, d’you hear me? You’ve no rights!’

      ‘I’ve every right! Casey is my son, and I’m responsible for his safety. If you interfere, I warn you, Ruth, you’ll be starting something you might regret.’

      ‘Really? Well, I think you should know, if you try and fight me, you’ll be sorry. You can be sure o’ that.’

      Tom was not impressed. ‘I know what you’re up to, but it’s not on.’

      ‘Huh!’ Her manner changed suddenly. With a sly, triumphant smile on her face, she spoke slowly, so the words would cut deep, ‘Casey … is not … your son.’

      For what seemed an age, Tom gave no reply. He felt shocked and numbed, unable to comprehend what she had said.

      Turning the knife, Ruth elaborated in a harsh and cruel voice. ‘Truth is, you raised another man’s bastard. After he was born, I used to watch you doting on him, hugging him like he was something precious. You never knew how much I longed to tell you the truth … to take the smile off yer face, but I never did. I’m telling you now, though. He was never yours, and he never will be.’

      ‘You’re a damned liar!’ Tom was shocked, then enraged. ‘You’ve stooped to many a dodgy thing in your time, but this is really evil. You’d better take back what you said. Take it back … now!’

      ‘I’m not lying, Tom. Not this time.’ Delighting in his distress, she pressed home her own version of the truth. ‘I’ve no idea who his father is, but I do know it’s not you, because it happened a short time before you and I lay down together. I tricked you, and like the gullible fool that you are, you never suspected; not even when I lied about him being born early. He’s an unwanted little bastard … made down a dark alley with some stranger who had more money than he knew what to do with.’

      Stricken to the heart, Tom took her by the shoulders. ‘You’re a wicked, destructive woman, and your lies won’t get Casey back.’ He gripped her so tight she winced with pain. ‘He’s my son. Mine! D’you hear what I’m telling you? Casey is mine and he always will be. Nothing you say or do will ever change that.’

      ‘Oh, but you’re wrong. You’re not listening, Tom! It isn’t your blood that runs through the boy. It’s the blood of a stranger who never knew what he’d made, and probably couldn’t care less anyway. When the pleasure was over, he went his way and I went mine.’

      Her words were like a knife through Tom’s heart. In his mind he went back to the day she told him she was pregnant. Had he really been so gullible?

      Now the truth was out after all these years, it was as if a dam had broken in Ruth and the words poured out. ‘Do you remember all that time you were after me, and I turned you away; but then you finally came in useful … if you see what I mean?’ She gave a sly little grin. ‘When I found I were up the duff, I moved Heaven and Earth to be rid of it, but for some reason it wouldn’t be budged, more’s the pity. But there you were, all doe-eyed and in love. I never had any real feelings for you in that way. You were simply a way out of my dilemma. When I told you we were having a baby, oh, you were over the moon. So excited, planning this and that …’ she laughed out loud, ‘… and you never knew that your joy had been another man’s pleasure before we were ever married.’

      While Tom took all this in, she watched his agony and felt nothing. ‘The thing is, I’ve done you a favour. You won’t want to be saddled with him now, will yer, eh? Not now you know the truth. He’s not so special after all. Think about it, Tom. For all we know, his real father might have been a dodgy sort with a badness that could rise in the boy at any time. Then there’s the matter of my own