The Loner. Josephine Cox

      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 Davie 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.

      He described how he had followed the boy and how, when he came to Rita, he could tell straightaway that she was in desperate need of hospital treatment.

      ‘We managed to get her as far as the cart and lay her down, when she drew her last breath. It were a matter of minutes, that’s all, and she was lost to us. And there was nothing either of us could do to save her.’ He blew his nose loudly.

      ‘What about Davie!’ Shocked at the news, Judy’s immediate thoughts were for her friend. ‘Where is he? Why didn’t you bring him home with you, Dad?’

      Tom shook his head. This was going to be hard. ‘Seeing his mammy go like that, it was a terrible thing for the lad to witness, especially after seeing his father walk out and then his grandfather turn against his own flesh and blood. He held her close until she’d said her last words to him, then before I knew it, he’d leaped off the cart and was running into the forest, as if old Nick hisself was after him. Oh, I called for the lad time and again…told him to come along of us and that we’d take care of him, but I haven’t seen him since. I had to get his mammy away, don’t you see? There was the police to deal with and all sorts. Afterwards, I went back, and I scoured the woods, calling and shouting and begging him to come home with me. But there was neither sound nor sight of him.’

      ‘Poor little chap.’ Beth was appalled by the news. ‘What will become of him, d’you think? Where will he go? How will he survive- a lad of his tender years?’

      Judy was distraught. ‘We’ve got to go back! We have to find him. Please, Dad, we can’t just leave him.’

      ‘He’s not there any more, child. I searched and called and there was nothing. He’ll be long gone by now.’

      Tom recalled how brave Davie had been and how, through a bad sequence of events and none of them his doing, he had been made a man overnight. ‘He’ll get through this,’ he said decidedly. ‘Young though he is, the lad’s already come through one bad shock after another. I’m sure he’ll think long and hard about which way to go. Don’t worry, lass. Happen when he’s had time to consider everything, he’ll come back of his own accord.’ In reassuring his daughter, he failed to reassure himself, however, although he was certain of one thing. ‘Davie knows he’ll be safe enough with us.’

      But Judy couldn’t let it drop. ‘When you’ve eaten and rested, will you come back and see if he’s there?’ she pleaded. ‘He might have been hiding when you called for him. He might not have wanted to talk – perhaps he wasn’t ready then, but he’ll listen to me, I know he will. Please, Daddy, please come back and try again.’

      Knowing how determined she could be, Tom worried that she might take matters into her own hands. Deciding it was wiser to pacify her, and being anxious himself as to Davie’s whereabouts, he relented.

      ‘All right, lass. Once I’ve had a sit-down and a bite to eat, we’ll go and search for him. But first we’ll call at his grandfather’s house. The police will already have been to see him, to inform him about poor Rita’s death. I told them everything I knew and they said to leave it with them.’ At the back of his mind he wondered. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if we didn’t find young Davie there. After all, when you think about it, where else would he go, but home?’

      ‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ Beth warned. ‘It was his grandfather who threw them out, wasn’t it? So, for all we know, Davie might be blaming him for what happened to his mammy.’

      ‘Davie would never do that!’ Judy sprang immediately to his defence. ‘Davie thinks the world of him. It was his grandad who took them all in when they lost their home and everything.’

      ‘The lass is right,’ Tom agreed. ‘Young Davie is not the sort to lay the blame where it doesn’t belong. The truth is, Rita brought it all on herself, God help her.’

      At that point, Beth served the meal and they sat at the table, each thinking of Davie and praying that he would be all right, out there, God knows where, grieving for his mammy and with no one to comfort him.

      After a few mouthfuls of the pie, Tom pushed back his plate. ‘Sorry, love, I haven’t the stomach for it,’ he told his wife. ‘If we’re going to search for the lad, we’d best get off now. But first we’ll stop off at Derwent Street – check on Joe, and see if the boy has turned up there, before we go off on a wild-goose chase round the woods.’

      Beth and Judy readily agreed. They put on their coats and stout shoes and waited at the door while Tom got the Morris Minor out of the barn. ‘I didn’t think it would start,’ he said as they climbed in. ‘I can’t recall the last time I had this motor-car on the road.’

      ‘Hmh!’ Beth gave him a wry glance. ‘I’m not surprised, because whenever you take me and Judy out, it’s always on the blessed cart! I’m surprised the motor-car hasn’t seized up altogether,’ she grumbled. ‘Then we’d have turned up at Joseph’s house in that smelly old cart. And what would folks think, eh?’

      Going down the lane at a steady pace, with the engine spitting and complaining, they sat quiet for a while, each engrossed in their own thoughts, thinking of Rita and the way things had turned out. Mostly their thoughts were for young Davie, because in truth he was the one who had suffered most in this tragedy.

      Judy was certain that Davie would not hold his grandfather responsible for his mammy’s death. For one agonising moment, she put herself in Davie’s shoes. He had loved his grandfather; and it must have come as a shock when Joseph turned against him. She also knew that, although he would forgive him, he would never be enticed back, even if his grandfather changed his mind. If Davie was anything at all, he was proud, and fiercely independent.

      When they turned the corner into Derwent Street, they were not