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

on the path to light a cigarette. Jack overheard the big fellow going into raptures about the paintings. ‘I can’t believe he’s got a painting of a Hillman Minx! I should’ve asked if he wanted to sell it.’

      ‘Shouldn’t think he’d sell it,’ came the gruff reply. ‘Class bit of engineering, that car was.’

      ‘It’s not the some these days though, is it? No quality. Same as today’s music. Oh, but we used to have some great bands.’

      The skinny man took a long drag on his roll-up. ‘I always used to like the Beatles as a band,’ he said, picking a shred of tobacco off his top lip. ‘But I never could stand that Paul McCartney. He allus looked like a cocky little bugger to me.’

      ‘Well, maybe that’s because he’s talented an’ you never will be.’

      ‘Huh! I’d like to see ’im shift a six-foot bed with iron legs on his own.’

      The big man’s laughter echoed down the street. ‘Never mind ’im! I’d like to see you do that on yer own. Even I’d ’ave to struggle. I might be built like a tank, but I’m only human. Yer daft sod! What are yer like? You’d be lost without me!’

      As always, the foreman had the last word.

      Jack took one last look around, then he left the house and went to sit on the front doorstep.

      ‘You’re leaving then, young man?’ It was Miss Parrot from two doors down. Nobody knew her real name, but they nicknamed her Miss Parrot, because she had a habit of repeating everything anyone said to her.

      ‘Yes.’ Jack came to the gate. ‘I’m off to pastures new.’

      ‘Oh, “Off to pastures new,” eh?’

      ‘That’s right. And I’d best be on my way.’ He stood up. ‘Bye, then. Take care of yourself.’

      She gave a nod of her silvery head. ‘Goodbye, then, and good luck.’

      Somehow, the sight of her ambling off down the street made him feel sad. Now, with his worldly possessions gone and the house empty, he thought it best to get away, as fast and as far as he could. Putting his suitcase into the boot, he drove to the estate agency, where he handed in his keys.

      ‘I’m sorry, but Tess has just left for an early lunch. Can I help? I’m up to speed with your case.’ This was Tina Argent, the young woman who had tittle-tattled about him selling his house through this agency, instead of taking it to Molly’s. Jack knew she had leaked the information. He gave her a searching look. ‘I’ve sent everything else to the solicitor. Here are the keys.’ He singled out each one. ‘They all have a label. Back door. Front door. Then these others are for the little green shed out back, and the side gate.’ He signed the necessary form, then turned to leave. At the door he was stopped by her quiet remark: ‘Did you know that Molly and Mal got engaged?’

      He nodded. ‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’ ‘Ah! But did you know after they got engaged, they had a shocking bust-up and Mal threatened to call off the wedding?’

      Jack was saddened by that, but not altogether surprised, knowing Molly. He was also angry that the information should be bandied about like this. ‘I don’t believe that’s any of my business – or yours.’ he told her coolly. ‘And no, I would not have known if you hadn’t told me.’

      Leaning over the desk, he gave her a warning. ‘But did you know that spreading idle gossip concerning other people’s private lives, can get you into a whole heap of trouble?’ He paused to let that snippet of information sink in. ‘You could even lose your job. Is that what you want?’

      Blushing bright pink with embarrassment, she said, ‘I didn’t mean anything by it – only I thought you should know, as you and Molly had planned to get married.’ She saw his expression and stuttered, ‘Sorry.’

      ‘So you should be. So now let that be an end to it, eh?’

      Her attitude became instantly sharp and professional. ‘Er, thank you, Mr Redmond. I’ll make sure these keys get to the new owner.’ Swinging about in her swivel-chair, she pretended to be busy.

      When she looked up, Jack was gone, and the door firmly closed behind him. Feeling humiliated, and grabbing up the bunch of keys, she threw them over to Tess’s desk with such force that they caught the pen-jar, which flew off the desk and sent the pens flying in all directions. Scrabbling about on her knees to collect them before the boss returned, Tina made the air turn blue with her cursing.

      Jack was not looking forward to the long drive, though he had already travelled the same journey several times these past weeks to keep an eye on his house and gradually take more stuff up. He had been very busy in his new job, sitting in on staff interviews and overseeing the first delivery of new vehicles, and most importantly, keeping abreast of and also approving the security precautions at the new showrooms.

      It was only now that he realised the true extent of the responsibility he had taken on. But he would shoulder it with pride, and would repay the company with the same trust and loyalty they had shown him. The sad thing was, he had no one to share his new life with. No one to come home to of an evening and tell them how his day had gone. No one to ask about their day, or their achievements. No one to spoil, or to laugh with. And most of all, no one to fill the huge void that had arisen in his life.

      Now, as he passed through the pretty village of Aspley Guise in central Bedfordshire, he planned to keep going northward on the motorway to the Keele turn-off. There was a café there, where he’d stop for a coffee and a bite to eat. From then on, it was only a matter of three-quarters of an hour and he would be off the motorway and on the main road into Blackburn.

      The thought of one day actually buying a property in his hometown was both unsettling and a source of great excitement. Whoever would have thought when he was a boy, lonely and unloved, that one day he would be coming home, having done so well for himself?

      Thinking back, he recalled his father’s tragic end. Even now, after all these years, it didn’t seem real. But then, tragedies rarely do. As for his mother, Jack doubted if she would even have cared about his success one way or another. He wondered fleetingly where she might be at this given moment in time. Was she still Mrs John J. Towner, with three stepchildren? And how did she physically look, after all these years, at the age of fifty? Would he recognise her if he saw her in the street? And would she be all over him if she knew he was earning a tidy salary, and planning to buy a house back in the town she had deserted, along with her son? Unsettled, he thrust her from his mind.

      Two hours later, after a good run through thin traffic, he came off the motorway at the Keele stop, as he had intended. Having filled his petrol tank, he went to pay at the desk.

      ‘Come off the motorway, ’ave yer?’ The man behind the desk was round as a barrel. ‘I avoid that motorway whenever I can,’ he grumbled. ‘The buggers can’t wait to kill themselves. Damned fools – driving like lunatics!’

      He took an interest in Jack. ‘Yer a southerner, aren’t yer?’ He didn’t wait for Jack to reply. ‘I can tell from yer accent. Looking for lodgings, are yer? I reckon I could help yer there.’

      ‘No, but thanks anyway.’

      With the transaction complete, the man returned Jack’s credit card. ‘There you go then, mate.’

      Jack thanked him again, then headed for the café across the courtyard, where he had a bite to eat and the best cup of coffee he’d enjoyed for a long time. Forty minutes later, he arrived at his destination.

      Looking up at the monstrous glass-and-steel building that was Curtis Warren Motors, for a moment Jack felt tiny and insignificant. Even now,