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

son.’ Don pictured Davie in his mind. ‘He’ll be eighteen now.’ His heart shuddered. It was some five years since he had seen Davie. Would he look the same? Would he want his father anywhere near? Had he forgiven him for leaving that night? And what about Rita? When they parted, it had been with bitterness, so how would she feel now, when he turned up at the door? Would she still be drinking and leading the life of Riley, or would she have settled down by now? And Davie would be out at work, keeping food on the table. Would he be in the same line of work as himself, Don wondered, recalling the hours they had spent together, making things for the house. He felt so excluded from their lives.

      Realising he was not in the mood for chit-chat, the conductor prepared to move on. ‘Good luck to you then,’ he said, and approached his next passenger, a grey-haired, grey-faced woman. ‘Hello, Mrs Armitage. And how are you today?’

      While the conductor chatted, Don watched as the familiar streets opened out to him, and when the tram turned into King Street, his heart was full, the memories almost too much to bear. The sights lifted his spirits, and he felt like an exile returning to everything he loved. This was his home, his life – and oh, dear God, how he had missed it!

      For the millionth time, all the old questions rampaged through his mind. Why had he run away? Why couldn’t he have stayed and tried harder with Rita? Had she changed now? he wondered again. Had his leaving brought her to her senses? Or was she still gallivanting, bedding every man she met? Moreover, had she found someone to replace him?

      Torturing himself, he began to believe the worst. So, had he done the right thing in coming back, or should he have left well alone and made a permanent life for himself, away from these parts, and away from Rita? It wasn’t as though he himself hadn’t had the occasional relationship, because he had. But there had been nothing serious, nor had he led the women to believe anything otherwise. They were mere time-fillers, until he found the strength to come home and make amends with Rita, once and for all.

      And now here he was, worried and anxious about the outcome. Either she would turn him away, or, like him, she had been lonely, aching for things to be as they used to be … before it all went wrong.

      As they travelled along King Street, he glanced out of the window. There was the picture-house and the row of shops. And now they were nearing the pretty narrow bridge in front of the greengrocer’s. Suddenly the tram was stopping and he really began to panic. Should he stay on the tram and go back to tramp the hills and valleys of Ireland, where he had hidden away all these years? Or should he brave it out and take the consequences, whatever they were?

      Yes, he should! He had to, or he would always regret it. And what of Davie, and the look on his young face as his daddy went out the door? What had the boy been thinking in that awful moment, and had he hated him ever since?

      For one terrifying moment, Don’s courage almost deserted him. Then he remembered how close he and his son had been, up until that shocking event when anger exploded and he burst out of the house. And then, after he left for Ireland, he had suffered from devastating loneliness, from days that never seemed to end, sleepless nights and the deep-down yearning that wouldn’t go away.

      His family were the most precious things on God’s earth to him, and for these five long years, he had let his pride keep him away.

      But he was here now, and come what may, this was where he would end his days. And if Rita didn’t want him, he would make a new life nearby. He would work hard to win back his son’s trust and love. And never again would he desert him.

      ‘King Street!’ The conductor’s voice rang out as the tram shuddered to a halt. ‘Good day to you,’ he addressed Don with a cheery grin. ‘Mind how you go now.’ He watched him go down the road, occasionally pausing deep in thought. ‘A troubled man, that’s what you are,’ he muttered. ‘Whatever it is you’re bracing yourself for, I’d rather be me than you.’

      He was taken unawares when an elderly woman poked him on the shoulder with her walking-stick. ‘Does this tram stop at Mill Hill?’

      ‘Oh, sorry, darling, I was miles away!’ He helped her aboard. ‘Yes, it does stop at Mill Hill, and goes all the way to Samlesbury.’

      When the woman was safely in her seat, he pressed the button to leave; with a last glance at Don’s departing figure, he thanked his lucky stars that he himself led a simple, uncomplicated life. When his work was done, he went home to a hearty meal and sometimes, if his wife was in the mood, a bit of slap and tickle before he went to sleep. He was a contented man who worked hard and provided, and with a good woman to tend his every need, he wanted nothing more.

      Unaware that his long-estranged son-in-law was on his way home, Joseph finished his pot of tea, put on his jacket, filled his pipe with baccy, and resumed his seat on the doorstep, enjoying the mild spring air.

      Come rain or shine, he spent many an hour on his doorstep. In the winter when the fumes from the coal fire got down his chest, he would put on his overcoat and take refuge outside, while in the warmer weather like now, he would sit with his mug of tea and his pipe of baccy, and simply watch the world go by.

      These days, it was the only real pleasure he had; save for when Judy would come by and they would talk about her young dreams, and he would tell stories about his own youth. These past few years, the girl had been his salvation, and he valued her for the genuine friend she had been to him.

      ‘Good day to you, Joseph!’ That was the lady from the corner shop. ‘Don’t sit there too long,’ she advised with a wag of her chubby finger. ‘They say it might rain later, and you don’t want to be catching a chill.’

      Returning her greeting, Joseph joked as usual, ‘I won’t mind a bit o’ rain, Elsie.’ He gave her a knowing wink. ‘It’ll save you giving me a bath later.’

      ‘Away with you, Joseph,’ she laughed aloud. ‘Saying things like that will get the whole street talking!’ And she trotted up the road feeling twenty years younger.

      ‘Up to your old tricks, are you, Joe?’ Having overheard the mischievous conversation, Lenny Reynolds paused a moment at the old man’s doorstep.

      ‘Aw, she loves a bit o’ flirting,’ Joseph chuckled. ‘It makes her day. Besides, we might be old in the tooth, but we can’t have folks thinking we’re past it, can we, eh?’

      ‘No, that would never do.’ Lenny enjoyed his little chats with Joseph. After everything he’d been through, the man could still be very entertaining. ‘And how are you today, Joseph – apart from chatting up the women?’

      ‘I’m all right, thank you, Lenny. And how are you, lad?’

      ‘Fine and dandy, thank you.’ He threw off his work satchel. ‘OK if I sit beside you for a while?’ He always enjoyed the banter with Joseph, and besides, it was good to catch up with news of the lovely Judy Makepeace.

      ‘Course ye can.’ Joseph shifted along the step. ‘Sit yerself down, young fella-me-lad.’ He had a lot of time for Lenny. He had seen him grow from boy to man these past four years, until now he was a handsome, strapping fellow who, in spite of his disinterested parents, had turned out really well. He already had a thriving greengrocer stall on Blackburn market, and was saving up to buy a shop in the heart of town. Oh yes! Lenny Reynolds was going places.

      ‘Tell you what,’ Joseph clambered up. ‘Come inside and you can tell me how the business is going.’ He smiled into Lenny’s brown eyes. ‘Judy was around earlier. She’s learning to drive, did you know that?’ He wasn’t surprised to see how, at the mention of the girl’s name, Lenny’s face lit up like a beacon.

      As they went down the passageway towards the back parlour, the torrent of questions never stopped. ‘When did she start learning to drive? Who’s teaching her? Did she mention me? Will she be popping round again, d’you think?’