The Loner. Josephine Cox

lies, too often, until now she didn’t know any other way.

      For a while, the household settled to an uncomfortable calm. Davie helped his mammy into the sitting room where she slumped into a chair.

      The sound of Don moving to and fro, packing his case in the bedroom overhead, could be heard. There was a buzzing behind Rita’s eyes and her whole body was trembling; Davie sat holding her hand.

      About a quarter of an hour after he had disappeared upstairs, Don came downstairs, carrying his case. Setting it down in the doorway, he paused to ask one more time: ‘Can you change your ways, Rita? Can you be the woman you once were?’

      Some last crazy impulse made her taunt him: ‘For my son, yes. But not for you.’

      He did not reply, but merely nodded. It was confirmation to him that the wife he knew was long ago lost to him. Looking at his son, he said quietly, ‘I’ll make us a good life, Davie. I want you to come with me. Will you do that for your daddy – will you?’

      The boy shook his head stubbornly. Torn two ways, he knew that every word his father said about his mam was the truth. He knew how often she had lied; he sensed she was lying to him now. But still he couldn’t bring himself to leave her.

      ‘I have to stay here.’ His head told him one thing; his heart another. And being a child who had not yet learned the way of life, he gave the only answer he could. ‘Mam needs me.’

      The man looked from the boy to the woman, and back again at the boy, who had a man’s heart, and he felt an overwhelming sense of pride. His sorry eyes went across to his father-in-law who had comedown stairs and was now hunched at the table looking as though the end of the world had come.

      That was what Rita did, Don thought. She had sucked the life out of everyone here, and it was never her who paid the price. It seemed to give her some sort of twisted satisfaction. Well, as far as he was concerned, the spell that had held him captive for so long was well and truly broken.

      ‘Don’t blame yourself, Dad,’ he told the old man. ‘Don’t let her destroy you! Joseph, do you hear what I’m saying?’ He waited for the old man to look at him, and when he saw his quiet smile, he returned it with a nod of the head; reassured that they now understood each other.

      Taking a piece of paper from his pocket, he handed it to the boy. ‘If ever you need me,’ he told Davie, ‘contact this man. I was in the Army with him. He’ll know how to find me.’

      The boy took the paper and laid it on the ground. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he whispered, his uplifted gaze like a knife in the man’s heart.

      Without a word, Don flung his arms round his son. Choked with emotion, he embraced him for a long moment, before releasing him. ‘I wish to God it could be different, son. But your mam’s made her choice, and now I’ve made mine.’ He held the boy at arm’s length. ‘I don’t want to leave you behind. Please, Davie, get your things and come with me.’

      The boy shook his head. ‘I can’t.’ Everything was disintegrating, and there was nothing he could do. ‘Don’t go, Dad. Please, please don’t leave us.’

      Don looked at his wife and saw the angry set of her mouth, and he knew his decision was right. ‘I need to go, son,’ he answered wisely, ‘just as you need to stay.’ With her lies, she had even won over his son. May God forgive her for this, for he could not.

      ‘Don’t forget,’ he reminded Davie. ‘I’ll always be there for you, whenever you need me.’

      For her too, he thought. Even though she had destroyed their lives, he would not cut off all ties with her. For the boy’s sake, he thought. That brave, loyal boy who truly believed his mother would keep her word.

      When the door closed quietly behind him, the boy clung to his mother. ‘We don’t need him,’ she said tiredly. ‘I’ve got you now. We’ll be all right, Davie. We’ll look after each other.’

      He was startled and alarmed when she had one of her sudden mood-swings. ‘Bastard!’ Grabbing the cushion from behind her, she flung it across the room. ‘He’s a wicked man, Davie. All I did was have a drink and enjoy a good time- an’ what’s wrong with that, eh? What harm was I doing?’

      Dipping into her handbag, she took out her packet of Park Drive and a miniature bottle of Booth’s gin, and took a long swig from it. ‘He’ll miss me, you’ll see,’ she declared, lighting a ciggie. ‘He’ll miss his old Reet and he’ll soon be back, you mark my words.’

      ‘Shall I put that in the cupboard?’ Reaching for the bottle, Davie was disappointed when she snatched it out of his grasp, smacking his hand away.

      ‘I can’t let you do that,’ she told him. ‘I’ve had a bad shock. I need my strength.’ On seeing his downcast face she tapped him more gently on the arm. ‘Go and make your mammy a cup of tea, there’s a good boy’ She was angry – angry at her husband for leaving; angry because she was in pain and nobody cared. And she was very angry, that a boy not yet fourteen should think he could tell her what to do. ‘Go on, then. Shift yourself!’ She sucked on the cigarette and blew out a long plume of smoke.

      Concerned and afraid, Davie insisted. ‘I don’t want you to have any more of that.’ He pointed to the bottle. ‘Please, Mam, let me put it away.’

      ‘DO AS YOU’RE BLOODY WELL TOLD!’ she screeched, lashing out with the back of her hand.

      With no choice, Davie left her there and went into the kitchen, where he stood for a time by the pot sink, his fists clenched, head hanging low and his eyes closed. He felt rejected, with a deep-down sadness that was like a physical hurt. He had to ask himself, how many times had his daddy felt the same way he felt now?

      In the next room, Rita remained slumped in the chair; she was hurting badly from the fall, but she didn’t want pity. She wanted her life the way it had been. With Donny gone and her father turned against her, all she had left was Davie, but he was just a boy. How could he look after her? The time was fast approaching when she would get the sack from the salon, as she kept erratic hours – and what would become of them then?

      When the sadness threatened to overwhelm her, she fumed at how cruel Don had been in leaving. Then there was her father…her own flesh and blood. If Joseph had been any kind of a man, he would have given Donny a bloody good hiding. ‘You let him desert me, Dad, and I’ll never forgive you for that.’ Her shrill voice sailed through to the kitchen where he was now leaning against the pot sink, his pained eyes staring out at the long dawn.

      Still a strong, capable man, despite long years in the foundry, and a heart battered by bad memories, the old man heard her relentless abuse and knew exactly how he had spawned such a degraded creature. She was made from the same mould as her mother.

      Moving to sit by the kitchen fire, and adding a bit of coal to it, he ran his hands through his thinning hair, trying hard to turn a deaf ear to his daughter’s rantings. His son-in-law’s departure had cut Joseph to the quick. Yet it only reinforced his belief that what he was about to do had to be done – because if he relented now, she would be the death of him – and what of the boy? Someone had to give her a jolt – make her realise what she was doing, get her off the road she was travelling. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind, and that was the way of it.

      She’ll blame everybody else, like she always does, he thought crossly. She’s done the damage to herself and torn this family apart, and God help us, she still hasn’t learned. His mind flew to his wife, dead of TB these ten years, and although he still grieved for her, his life was peaceful now, after long years of torment due to her faithless ways.

      His mind was made up. No one else should have to suffer like that. Davie would come off worst…that fine young lad who would love his mother whatever she did. Good or bad,