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

all about him, and when, breathless, he broke through the trees, he paused to search both ways along the winding lane, but there was no one to be seen.

      Taking to his heels, he began running, suddenly pausing again when he thought he heard a sound in the distance. For a minute he couldn’t make it out, but then he recognised the clippety-clop of horse’s hooves, and to his immense relief, saw the familiar milk-cart rounding the bend. ‘Tom? Tom, stop. It’s me, Davie!’

      Drawing on the last of his strength, he raced towards the cart, his heart at bursting point as he prayed to God above for his mammy to be all right.

      ‘What the devil’s going on, lad?’ Tom drew the cart to a halt, while Davie was bent double, gasping and crying, and telling Tom how he needed help and that his mammy was badly hurt.

      ‘All right, I hear you.’ He patted the seat beside him. ‘Climb up here. You can tell me about it as we go.’

      Dishevelled and in a state of panic, Davie wasn’t making too much sense as he clambered onto the wagon. ‘We went to the man and he told us to clear off, and there was nowhere else to go and we were making for the church … then she fell and I couldn’t get her up. Hurry, Tom. Please hurry!’

      ‘Calm down, lad, take it easy. We’ll see she’s all right.’ Sending the horse into a trot, the little man kept his eyes on the ruts and dips in the lane. ‘What’s happened?’ He needed to know. ‘It’s your mam you say? Last time I saw her, she was heading home, a bit the worse for wear, but fine enough. She should have been back hours ago. What in God’s name were you doing out here, the pair of you?’

      But Davie wasn’t listening. He was hellbent on getting to his mother, and realising this, Tom concentrated on the way ahead. ‘How far?’

      ‘Here!’ Suddenly they were at the point where Davie had broken through from the woods. ‘She’s down there.’

      Before the horse had slowed down, Davie was already jumping off the side of the wagon. ‘We have to get her home as soon as we can,’ he gabbled. ‘Grandad threw us out but he’ll take her back now, I know he will.’ That said, he was away and into the woods, calling Tom’s name as he went. ‘Quick, Tom, this way! She’s in here.’

      From some way behind, Tom followed, his mind full of questions. How had this come to pass? Davie said his grandad had thrown them out. Dear mother of God, why would Joseph do such a thing? But then again, hadn’t it been on the cards, and wouldn’t Tom himself have been tempted to do the same thing if his daughter had turned out to be such a bad lot … giving herself to all and sundry and making a mockery of her hardworking husband. Any other man would have shown her the door long ago.

      As he hurried after the boy, Tom decided that the questions would have to wait. There were more important things to attend to now. Poor Rita was hurt and she needed help. For now, that was all that mattered.

      A few minutes later, his face torn by overhanging branches and his ankles sore where the thorns and bracken had proved a hindrance, Tom was shocked to see Davie’s mammy lying crumpled in a shallow ditch. ‘Step aside, lad.’ Falling to his knees beside her in the wet leaves, he took hold of her hand, taken aback by how cold she was. In the slimmest shaft of light filtering through the umbrella of trees, he saw how pale and still she lay. ‘We’d best get her out quick.’ His quiet, decisive manner gave Davie a sense of calm, and hope. But not peace of mind. Too much had happened this night. Too many bad memories would follow him, and he thought he would never again know peace of mind.

      Between the two of them, they set about getting her up, and when she cried out, they stopped to give her a moment. ‘Shh now. It’s all right,’ Tom reassured her. ‘You’re safe. We’ve got you.’

      All the same, it was a slow and painful operation, but at last they had her out and up on her feet, albeit unsteadily. ‘Crook your arm under hers,’ Tom instructed. ‘She’s in no fit state to take her own weight, and I can’t get the wagon down here, so we’ll have to carry her out the best we can.’

      As they took her step by careful step towards the lane, she dragged her feet and murmured incoherently, and as the horse snickered, sensing something amiss, they lifted her gently onto the bench set into the back of the wagon. ‘There’s a rug under the driver’s seat. Fetch it, will you, lad?’ Tom grunted.

      While Davie went to get the rug, Tom made Rita comfortable. ‘It’s no good taking her back to your grandad’s house,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s the Infirmary she needs.’

      Davie gave no reply. Instead he sat beside his mother while Tom tucked the blanket around her. When she began shivering uncontrollably, Davie held her closer, trying to warm her, intent on making her safe.

      ‘Right, that should do it.’ Tom nodded. ‘Keep her as still as you can,’ he said as he climbed down. ‘We don’t know what injury she suffered when she fell.’

      Thankful that soon they would be on their way, Davie glanced down, astonished to see his mother looking straight back at him. The rain had stopped, and in the brightness of a new day, her eyes were incredibly beautiful. ‘I’m sorry, Davie,’ she said. ‘You’re a good boy.’ She then gave him a look of absolute love. ‘And I have been a bad mother. A bad … mother. Don’t hate …’ Her voice faded away.

      Davie felt her convulse in his arms, and then she was still, her wide eyes still turned on him, and in that moment he knew. But he could not accept the truth, and in his overwhelming sorrow, he screamed out for Tom to help her. ‘HURRY! WE HAVE TO GO NOW! Hurry … oh, please hurry, Tom.’ The rending sobs tore through him and he couldn’t speak any more. Instead, he held her close, the scalding tears running down his face and onto hers. ‘Don’t go, Mam. Don’t leave me …’

      Tom drew the milk-cart to a halt and turned round. He saw, and it broke his heart.

      ‘She’s gone, lad.’ Inching close, he took hold of the boy’s arm. ‘There’s nothing we can do for her now.’ Tremulously reaching out, he placed his fingers over the dead woman’s sightless eyes and closed them. ‘Come away, son,’ he urged softly. ‘It’s out of our hands now. We’ll take your mammy where they’ll look after her. They’ll know what to do …’

      Suddenly startled when the boy leaped off the wagon and sped into the woods, Tom called after him, ‘No, Davie! Come back, lad!’

      Time and again, Tom called after him, but Davie was quickly gone, and Tom was afraid this might be the last he would ever see of him. ‘COME HOME TO THE FARM WHEN YOU’RE READY.’ He cupped his hands over his mouth. ‘MY HOME IS YOURS. I’LL BE THERE WHENEVER YOU NEED ME, DAVIE.’ His voice fell. ‘I’ll always be here for you, son. You must never forget that.’

      With a heavy heart he returned to cover Rita’s face. ‘The lad’s tekking it hard,’ he murmured as he wound her into the blanket. ‘It don’t matter what badness you’ve done, lady, he can’t help but love you.’ He made the sign of the cross over her, and prayed that she might find a kind of peace elsewhere, for she had found none on this earth.

      As he climbed into the seat, he stole another glance into the trees, but there was no sign of Davie, and no reply when he called his name. Licking his wounds, poor little bugger! Oh, but he’ll be back, God willing. You’ll see, when he’s all cried out, he’ll turn up at the farm, looking for his friends. And we’ll be there to help him through.

      Drawing a long deep breath through his nose, he held it for a while, before the words eased out on the crest of a sigh. ‘He’ll come back.’ He turned his head to look on the dark shadow that lay in the back of his cart. ‘I can only promise you, that when the lad does come home, we’ll take care of him.’

      Davie had a special place in his own family’s affections. Since toddlers, Davie and Tom’s own daughter, Judy, had played together, sharing every experience that youngsters share – learning to ride the ponies; chasing the rabbits into the hedge-rows; laughing