Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 2: The Loner, Born Bad, Three Letters. Josephine Cox

from the boot.

      ‘You’ll need to stay close,’ he warned, ‘but like I say, I don’t think we’ll find him. I went round and round these woods, calling out his name and looking into every nook and cranny, to no avail. So don’t go expecting miracles.’

      Judy was the first out of the car and away. ‘Come back here, child!’ Startled, Beth brought her to heel. ‘I know you’re keen to find him – we all are – but I don’t want you wandering off into them woods by yourself. You’re to stay close at all times.’ Though anxious for Davie, the fear for her own flesh and blood was instinctively stronger.

      They spent almost two hours searching. Tom led them to the spot where he’d found Rita, and from there they covered a wider circle, calling out Davie’s name and leaving no stone unturned. But at the end of it, they were disappointed.

      On the way back to the lane, Tom had his arm round his daughter’s shoulders. ‘You’re not to be too disheartened, lass,’ he said kindly. ‘He’ll turn up when he’s ready.’ Though he gave Beth a look that said different, because after what young Davie had been through, he doubted whether the boy would ever again be seen round these parts.

      Judy was quiet all the way home. From when they left the spot where Tom had first seen Davie, her troubled gaze was strained to catch a glimpse of him, through the lamplit streets, along the darkened lanes, down by the river and alongside the canal, and now as they drew ever closer to home, her heart sank like a lead weight inside her. The thought of never seeing Davie again was unbearable.

      Tom drew up at the battered five-bar gate with its handpainted sign reading Three Mills Farm. He got out, opened up, drove the old Morris Minor through, then got out and closed the gate again. He patted the bonnet approvingly, then went to change into his wellies and old coat to check on the animals.

      Beth made her and Judy a mug of cocoa. ‘There y’are, lass.’ She placed the drink and a slab of fruit cake in front of Judy, who was sitting at the table, looking forlorn. ‘Come on now, love,’ Beth said. ‘Davie’s a strong, sensible young man. Wherever he is, I’m sure you’ll find he’ll come to no harm. Now, drink your cocoa, there’s a good girl, then you must get yourself ready for bed. It’s been a long day today, and we’ve a hard day ahead of us tomorrow, what with having to help round up the sheep and a load of other jobs. Your daddy will need all the help he can get.’

      They had just finished their cocoa as Tom walked in the door. ‘That blessed fox is about again!’ he grumbled. ‘It’s already had two o’ my chickens … best layers an’ all! By! I nearly had him just now.’ He shook his fist in the air. ‘If I ever get close enough, he’ll feel the heat of my shotgun up his backside an’ no mistake!’

      Red-faced from the chase he fell into a chair, thanking Beth when she handed him a freshly made cup of milky cocoa.

      ‘Get that down you,’ she advised with a chuckle. ‘Chasing after foxes, in the dark an’ all, it’s a wonder you didn’t go head over heels in the dungheap. What’s more, you’re too slow an’ heavy in the belly to go running after foxes and the like. They must be sittin’ laughin’ at you, Tom Makepeace.’

      ‘What’s that, woman?’ he asked indignantly. ‘Are you saying I could do with losing some weight?’ He took a huge bite of his cake.

      Beth cocked a snook. ‘If the cap fits,’ she said wryly with a mischevious glint in her eye.

      Judy was the first to go to bed. ‘Good night, my beauty.’ Tom hated seeing her so quiet; it wasn’t in her nature.

      ‘Good night, love.’ Beth held her a moment longer. ‘Remember what I said … you’re not to fret about young Davie. He’ll be all right, you mark my words.’ All the same, she too was worried. He was only a boy, after all.

      ‘Good night, Mam … Dad.’ Judy kissed them both and headed off upstairs.

      An hour or so later, lying in bed, her mind filled with thoughts of Davie, Judy heard her parents going into their room. ‘Ssh! Pick your feet up, man,’ Beth chastised her husband when he tripped over the mat. ‘We don’t want to wake the lass.’

      Judy smiled when she heard her father arguing with Beth as to why she’d put a fringed mat on top of the landing. ‘Every blummen night, I trip over that damned mat.’

      ‘Will you give over with your moaning!’ Beth retaliated. ‘That mat’s been sat there these past six years, and nobody but you has tripped over it yet.’

      With Davie strong in her mind, Judy couldn’t sleep. Climbing out of bed, she went across the room to perch on the windowseat. She would sit here for an age when her thoughts were troubled, and they had never been more troubled than they were tonight. Of all the forces of Nature, it was the sky that seemed to soothe and embrace her; day and night she never ceased to marvel at its changing moods. There was something especially beautiful about the autumn sky tonight; moody and magical, bathed in soft moonlight, it seemed more haunting than she could ever remember.

      But then, Judy Makepeace lived within Nature itself; she walked it and felt it, and her every breath was tuned into it. Her only close female friend, a girl of her own age called Annie, would laugh at her, saying, like Tom and Beth did, that she should have been born a bird or a fish.

      While other girls were already dreaming of dating boys and dressing up for Saturday afternoon at the pictures, Judy had never really craved those things. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy them, because she did. Like any other adolescent girl, she liked to look in the shop windows at the latest fashions, and when the boys in the picture-house started flirting and teasing, she would giggle in response. She could give as good as she got, though she would blush to her roots if a boy tried to kiss her.

      Once, when her mam and dad took her to a local barn dance, Annie’s older brother Philip had kissed her full on the lips. She had wiped her mouth afterwards, when he wasn’t looking. He made her feel scared, somehow, but she put it down to her own shyness and inexperience.

      Life was good, and there were so many things she wanted to do. But always in the forefront of her mind was Davie Adams. If she didn’t have him in her life, nothing would be the same. It was Davie she turned to whenever she needed advice, and it was Davie with whom she loved to walk along the river, or across the fields, or when they were bringing in the hay and it was all hands to the task. He was her hero, and she loved him.

      Her love for Davie and the love she felt for her parents was not the same. The strength of love was the same, but it was as though they lived in different parts of her heart. The part where Davie lived had always been there, but now there was something else, a deeper feeling, and she did not know how to deal with it.

      There had been moments when she thought she might talk about it to Annie, but something stopped her. She didn’t think the other girl would understand.

      Sitting cross-legged on the windowseat, her thoughts shifted to other things. She sat for a time, her eyes closed and her mind going over the day and, after a while, with the sleep beginning to draw her down, she stretched her limbs and eased herself off the seat.

      As she stood up to pull the curtains closed, something alerted her, some quick movement down in the yard. Leaning towards the window, she stared out into the darkness, but there was nothing to be seen, except a lone cat prowling the area for a mate.

      Turning away, she crossed the room, stumbled into bed and drew the blankets over her. In a matter of minutes she was fast asleep.

      In the other room, having talked themselves into exhaustion, Beth and Tom also were asleep.

      It had been a worrying day for them all.

Chapter Six