Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird. Josephine Cox

– if anything?’

      Once he had burned his bridges, there might be no way back. It was a frightening thought. Yet even with all the doubts, he knew in his heart that he had no choice, but to try.

      For as long as he could remember, he had suffered disturbed nights, his sleep constantly haunted by these terrifying images. For the first time ever, an opportunity had presented itself to free himself of his demons. Nothing was certain; nothing was guaranteed. But the opportunity was in place. If he turned his back on it now, he would regret it for ever.

      Jack tied his dressing-gown tighter around him. Looking up at the wall-clock, he realised it was midnight. ‘Midnight is a lonely place,’ he murmured. Memories of the past stalked his mind. Vague memories – some good, some not so good.

      After his father died from injuries suffered in that fire, his mother had changed. Claire Redmond began to drink, to yell and scream at every little upset. Jack became the butt of her ill temper. There were cruel rumours about her going with men. She was even called a slut. For Jack, this was a lonely time. Yet he understood, even as a schoolboy, that she was suffering, that her husband was lost to her. Along with the security she had enjoyed.

      Like his mother, Jack felt the pain of his father’s passing. Yet while he tried every which way to help his bereaved mother, she was not there for him when he needed her most.

      He had long forgiven her for that, but he had felt lost. Just a boy. In a way, while his mother had lost her man, Jack had lost both his parents. His pain was almost unbearable.

      Later, when his mother, Claire met the wealthy American she gave no thought to her son, but simply walked away from Jack and her old life in Bower Street, without a backward glance. Her new man, John Towner only met Jack once, and did not invite him to join his own children in Minnesota. Jack was eighteen, alone and afraid. Left behind, to pick up the pieces.

      When he left Blackburn, he had no idea where he might go. All he knew was that he had to get away, because there was nothing left for him there.

      Thrust into a big wide world, he learned the hard way – to make his own decisions and do what he believed to be the right thing. Just like now; when his every instinct told him to go back, to where it all began.

      Some instinct made him think of Libby, and a warm feeling crept through his troubled soul. She had been his friend next door, his friend at school, and his confidante through the bad times. He wondered if she was still there; in the street where they grew up. Still a tomboy, with her mop of autumn-coloured curls. Was she married, with children? Or maybe she had fulfilled their shared dream, of travelling the world, to search for adventures that could not be found in homely little Bower Street?

      ‘My friend, Libby.’ Even now, the very thought of her brought a sense of comfort. And he remembered her mother – dearest, kindest Eileen.

      There was Thomas too. He was ever the good neighbour. These kindly, honest people paraded through his mind and lifted his heart, despite his sense of guilt at having left them behind without a word.

      The more he thought about moving back, the more he felt he was making the right decision. And even though Bower Street held some bad memories, he found himself looking forward to visiting his home-town. He hoped it was not too much changed.

       Chapter Seven

      MOLLY HAD INTENDED to drive straight to her parents’ house in Bedford, some ten miles away from Leighton Buzzard, but five minutes from the motorway bridge, she changed her mind. Still bristling from the heated row with Jack, she knew her parents would quiz her, and she wasn’t in the mood to be nagged at just then.

      She thought of her brother. At least Brian wouldn’t nag her – although she knew he wouldn’t be too pleased about her turning up on his doorstep like this.

      Turning right, she slipped through Husborne Crawley and made her way to Ridgmont, where her own house was now rented by her brother Brian, in order to pay the mortgage while she lived with Jack.

      Tears clouded her eyes as she reflected on her heated discussion with Jack. She even pulled over to the side of the road and considered going back to make it up with him. But then she thought it might be best to let him stew for a while.

      ‘Stubborn devil, Jack Redmond, that’s what you are!’ Angry now, she wiped away the tears, plucked a tissue out of her bag and blew her nose. ‘Damned stubborn!’

      Slipping the engine into gear, she set off again. ‘My Brian will understand.’ Though she wasn’t even sure about that, ‘Men! What do they know!’

      Travelling along the main road, she passed the church and drove to a house on the right – a cottage with flower-baskets hanging from the wall, and a well-tended, pretty garden behind. ‘Brian had better not lecture me!’ Molly declared aloud. ‘I’m not in the mood for another fight!’ Her hackles were up already.

      Parking the car behind her brother’s, she recognised a third car as belonging to her brother’s friend and workmate, Mal. She was disappointed because she needed to unburden her troubles onto her brother, who at times was the only one who understood her. ‘I expect they’re talking about work,’ she thought. ‘So with a bit of luck, Mal won’t be here too long.’

      It wasn’t that she didn’t like Mal, because she did. He was a good bloke, and a good friend to Brian. In fact, he was a good friend to all the family. She and Mal had even been sweethearts at one point, and after breaking up they had remained firm friends.

      Wheeling her suitcase along the path, she rat-tatted on the front door. ‘Brian! It’s me – open the door!’

      There was silence, then the sound of running steps, and the door was flung open to reveal a lean young man with an unruly mop of fair hair. Dressed in black Levis and a check shirt, he looked somewhat flustered.

      ‘Hi, Mal!’ Molly greeted him with a big smile. ‘You took your time getting to the door, didn’t you?’

      On seeing it was Molly, his face broke into a wide grin. Darting forward, he took her in his arms and almost squeezed the life out of her. ‘My favourite girl! Where’ve you been all my life?’

      Giggling like a schoolgirl, Molly pushed him away. ‘Back off, Mal!’ She was used to his flirting. ‘It’s only been a few weeks, but anybody would think you hadn’t seen me for years.’

      ‘Even a few days without seeing you is too long,’ he teased.

      Molly rolled her eyes. ‘So where’s my baby brother?’

      ‘Browsing over a hot construction plan. Come to chuck him out, have you?’

      Molly laughed. ‘It’s you I’ll be chucking out if you don’t behave yourself.’

      ‘Oh, don’t be like that. Especially when I’ve been dreaming about you every night.’

      ‘I’m warning you, Mal. I’m not in the mood for games.’

      ‘I’m not playing games. I mean every word.’

      ‘If you don’t get out of the way, I might just accidentally drop this suitcase on your toes.’

      ‘Oh well, if you’re in that kind of mood . . .’ Turning towards the sitting-room door, he yelled at the top of his voice: ‘Brian! It’s your long-lost sister . . . come to throw you out for not paying the rent!’ Grabbing Molly’s case, he led her down the passage and into the sitting-room, where Brian was already scrambling out of the armchair.

      Molly’s brother was shorter than the other young man, with long dark hair tied back to the nape of his neck.

      ‘Molly!’ Grabbing off his rimless spectacles, Brian laid them on the table, on top of what looked to Molly like an unfolded plan of sorts. ‘What brings you here?’ He gave her a bear-hug.

      ‘Well, that’s charming, I must say!’ Molly chided him. ‘Here I am, come to see you, and