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

a load of powder and paint on her pretty face and the pair of ’em up to all sorts of tricks behind their husbands’ backs.

      Those memories were best forgotten. Beth thought instead of the times she had helped the children with their homework when they’d gone off to the big school in Blackburn Town. She was canny at the arithmetic, was Beth – she’d needed to have a shrewd head on her shoulders, running the farm with her Tom, who was better at hosswork than headwork. Oh well. Davie had been due to leave soon, while her Judy had a couple of years or more yet. And now Rita was gone, and so was Don … and Davie had vanished into the wide blue yonder, just when Judy had begun to see her childhood friend in a different light.

      It seemed that, with him leaving, their friendship, at least on Judy’s side, had deepened into a more mature emotion. The girl had said it herself. She loved Davie in a new way – and it was a painful thing. Turning to her darning, Beth consoled herself with the knowledge that Judy was still too young at twelve to experience the stirrings of real love – the kind that robs you of your sleep and makes the day seem neverending.

      She thought of Davie, and her heart ached. Where was the lad? Why didn’t he come home, instead o’ wandering the streets like some poor vagabond! She tutted aloud.

      ‘What’s that?’ Tom peered over his newspaper. ‘What did y’say?’

      ‘I said, would you like another cup o’ tea?’ Beth asked, throwing off her anxious mood.

      ‘Aye, go on then … and don’t forget the sugar this time.’

      Upstairs, Judy lay on her bed, her mind in turmoil. She was half-minded to go after Davie, but she knew her parents would be frantic with worry if she did so. And besides, which way would she go? Even Davie hadn’t known where he was headed.

      After a few minutes of trying to get to sleep, she went and sat by the window; she felt comfortable there, as though that great outdoors had the answer to everything. A trillion stars were dancing in the heavens, and from somewhere in the distance a barn owl was calling for its mate. How could everything be so magical, while she felt so sad?

      She wondered if Davie could hear that same owl, or see the same stars in the skies. The idea gave her a small degree of comfort.

      Davie was not as far away as Judy imagined.

      Curled up at the foot of a tree trunk, he was finding it hard to sleep. Judy was strong in his mind, and stronger still was her impetuous kiss. It still burned on his mouth, her soft full lips against his. He wanted to see her again, but he knew it would be best if he didn’t.

      Soon, it would be time for him to leave this place for good. She still had a lot of growing up to do, while he felt a hundred years old. If they never saw each other again it would be a very sorry thing.

      But maybe, in the end, that might be for the best.

      For now though, he desperately needed to sleep. Rolling over, he wrapped the blanket she had given him closer about his shoulders. His bag, now a pillow, was lumpy, but he tried to relax. However, his thoughts were too alive with new feelings. Time and again, he brushed his fingers over his lips, remembering the urgency of her kiss; so unexpected and lovely; her nearness, and the warm, earthy smell of her hair brushing against his face.

      After a while, he drifted into a shallow, troubled rest, haunted by recent events and the unknown road ahead. His mother’s dying face, with its look of love, made him sob in his sleep.

      Opening his eyes, glad to see it was almost dawn, he turned his thoughts to family.

      Before he set out, there was one more thing he had to do. Then he would be gone from here, taking whichever path drew him away.

      Not for the first time since that night, he wondered where his father might be. Had Don gone back to Ireland? Or was he still hereabouts, a mere few miles away? Or was he on a ship destined for foreign parts?

      Davie needed him now more than ever, but he would never admit it out loud. All he wished was that his father should be safe, wherever he was, and wherever in the world his travels might take him.

      He thought of his own situation and yes, the future seemed a frightening prospect. But the past was even more daunting.

      And the sooner he put it behind him, the better.

Chapter Eight

      THROUGHOUT THE WEEK following Davie’s disappearance, news of his mother’s untimely demise spread far and wide. ‘That silly tart got what she deserved,’ some declared callously. Others shook their head and found a degree of compassion for a life lost, and other lives ruined.

      ‘I expect we’ll be the only ones at the church.’ Beth had been getting her family prepared for the ordeal of the funeral on the Saturday morning.

      Tom was more philosophical. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if a few neighbours turned up,’ he commented, as he wound his tie round his neck for the third time. ‘Happen not for Rita’s sake, but for old Joseph. He’s made a heap o’ friends over the years, an’ he’s never let ’em down when they needed him.’

      He cocked his head to one side, skenning downwards through crossed eyes as he made a fourth attempt at taming his rebellious tie. ‘I reckon they’ll not let him down neither, especially not today of all days.’

      Snatching the tie from round his neck, he threw it over the back of the chair. ‘I’m not wearing this damned thing! I can’t even fasten the beggar.’

      Judy came to the rescue. ‘Don’t fidget, Dad,’ she said, sliding the tie round his leathery neck. ‘And I think you’re right. I bet the people will be there for old Joseph.’

      ‘I’m not so sure.’ Rolling the flesh-coloured stockings up to her thighs, Beth hoisted her skirt and hooked up the suspenders. ‘Although we were friends, there was summat inside Rita that made her lose all control. By! She must have bedded half the male population o’ Blackburn in her time. I’m just glad she never started on you, Tom. There must be a hundred women out there who’d like to dance on her grave, never mind come and pay their respects.’

      As she spoke, she made the sign of the cross over herself. ‘God rest her soul all the same,’ she prayed.

      Judy glanced across at her mam. ‘Your seams are crooked.’

      ‘What?’

      Having looped her daddy’s tie into a neat little knot, the girl pointed down at her mother’s stockings. ‘The seams are all crooked, see?’

      ‘Oh, damn and bugger it!’ As a rule Beth never wore stockings; she much preferred bare legs, or a warm pair of socks inside boots or stout shoes. She was a farmer’s wife, not a townswoman.

      Twisting herself round, Beth began tweaking the stockings, until the seams were as straight as she could get them. ‘How’s that, lass?’ she panted.

      Judy nodded. ‘Much better, Mam.’

      ‘Right well, it’s time we were on our way.’ Looking in the mirror, she dabbed a discreet shaking of powder on her face, then a touch of lipstick, and then came the hat – a small round, blueberry-coloured thing. ‘How does that look?’ she asked, spinning round to face them.

      ‘Like a cherry on a cake,’ Tom remarked, making his daughter smile.

      Ignoring his cheeky comment, Beth asked of Judy, ‘Do I look dignified, lass?’

      The girl gave an honest answer. ‘Yes, Mam.’

      ‘And the hat – is it suitable for the occasion, d’you think? … And don’t look at your father; he’s got no idea.’

      Judy