Born Bad. Josephine Cox

drink.

      In her mind she went over the conversation with Harry. ‘It’s a curious thing,’ she muttered, clearing away her cup, ‘how the love and devotion of two young people can create such a lifetime of heartache.’

      Turning out the lights, she shuffled her way up the stairs and into her room, where she softly closed the door.

      A moment later, with her arms raised to close the curtains, she took a few seconds to marvel at the night skies. She had always thought the heavens were uniquely magnificent. With a myriad of twinkling diamonds against a forever carpet of midnight blue, there could be no other creation like it in the whole world.

      She stayed awhile, letting the beauty sink into her senses, then she quietly addressed the heavens. ‘Well, Judy, here we are,’ she whispered. ‘Your boy is home again. Sure, he’s a tortured man, and he’s looking to find his first love. So, what are we going to do, Judy m’darlin’? How will it all end, I wonder. And where are you now? What have you done with your life? More than that, did ye find happiness … or are ye haunted, just like yer man?’

      She sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, thinking and wondering; recalling the very last conversation she had had with Judy.

      After a time, she undressed and slid between the sheets, but she was deeply troubled, and not only because of the things she and Harry had openly discussed.

      More importantly, it was the very things she had deliberately kept from Harry, that wounded her most and which made her deeply ashamed for the first time in her life. Bad things touching on abortion, family and wickedness. And especially the fact that Judy had come to see her another time; with news that had lifted her old heart in forgiveness.

      She had toyed with the idea of telling Harry, then thought it kinder, and wiser, to let him believe what she had just now told him. It wasn’t her secret to reveal. Moreover, her suspicions were now substantiated. Yet doubts still tormented her.

      She still didn’t have the whole story. At one point she had almost got the truth out of Judy; until the poor girl grew afraid and ran away.

      ‘Harry has a right to know my thoughts,’ she whispered to the darkness, ‘but oh, dear Lord, how can I ever be sure?’

      She knew one thing though. Harry had already been the victim of deception. If the truth was even more disturbing, and Judy had not entrusted him with it, she would not be surprised if he turned his back on her and Judy for all time.

      Turning over, she closed her eyes, but sleep eluded her. There were things on her mind that should be spoken out loud.

      After a time, she climbed out of bed and went softly on tippy-toes down the stairs. She entered the kitchen, closed the door behind her and made herself another cup of cocoa. Then she sat at the table, rolling the cup about in her hands and thinking what to do.

      ‘Not telling him of my suspicions is tantamount to betraying him yet again!’ she chided herself. ‘That’s exactly what Judy did, and that’s what drove him away for all these years. He deserves to know!’ The truth played heavy on her mind.

      She was all for telling him, and then she was not, and now she was desperately trying to justify keeping him in the dark. ‘If I tell him now, it will cause more heartache, so it will.’

      Pushing her cocoa aside, she left it untouched and crept back to her bed. Rightly or wrongly, her decision was made. She intended to keep her own counsel, for the alternative would be too cruel for everyone concerned.

      ‘He’ll find her, or he won’t!’ she muttered as she clambered back under the bedclothes. ‘Either way, I can’t be the one to stir up trouble. He’s had enough upset in his life, without me adding to his burden now.’

      Before drifting into a restless sleep, she turned her sad gaze to the window.

      ‘Forgive me,’ she begged some unseen entity. ‘I can’t voice my thoughts just now, but for Harry’s sake, I only hope and pray I’m doing the right thing by remaining silent.’

       Chapter Four

      THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Harry was ready to go looking for work. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind keeping an eye on Tom?’ he asked Kathleen. Though reluctant to leave his boy behind, he had been pleased to see how the pair of them were getting on like a house on fire.

      ‘Do I mind?’ Kathleen was wounded. ‘Aw, sure, looking after the little fella will be a joy, so it will.’

      ‘I’ll be quick as I can,’ he promised Tom.

      ‘I don’t mind, Daddy.’ Tucking into one of the apple tarts Kathleen had baked that very morning, Tom proudly informed him, ‘Kathleen’s taking me on the bus to Bedford. We’re looking for new shoes for when I go to school.’

      Harry was puzzled. ‘What about the shoes your mammy bought for you?’

      Tom frowned. ‘My feet won’t stop growing, and now the shoes are squeezing all my toes up. Kathleen says when I grow up like you, I’ll probably have feet the size of meat plates.’

      ‘Is that right?’ Fishing in his wallet, Harry declared, ‘We can’t have my son walking about with his toes sticking out the end of his shoes!’ He gave Kathleen enough money for shoes and socks, and a bit extra for a meal and bus fare.

      ‘So, am I not allowed to buy the boy a new pair of shoes?’ Kathleen feigned an air of indignation. ‘Kathleen O’Leary’s money is not good enough, is that what you’re saying?’

      Harry played her little game. ‘Well, I’m sure I didn’t mean to offend you.’ He held out his hand. ‘Give it back?’

      ‘What! You really want me to give it back? Shame on ye, Harry Boy! You’re a heartless divil, so ye are.’ She winked at Tom, who was beginning to realise it was just a game. ‘Tom, what d’ye think?’ she asked. ‘Should we keep your daddy’s money or not?’

      ‘Keep it! Yes!’ Laughing and screeching, Tom jumped up and down.

      ‘Behave yourselves, you two.’ Harry swung Tom up into his arms. ‘I can see I’ll have to keep an eye on the pair of you,’ he said, wagging a finger. ‘If I’m not careful, you’ll be running rings round me.’

      A thought occurred to him. ‘Look, Kathleen, if you’re taking Tom into town, you might as well jump in the car with me,’ he suggested. ‘I can drop you off at the end of the market, if you like.’

      Kathleen graciously declined. ‘I promised Tom we would go on the bus and he’s looking forward to it.’

      ‘Yes!’ Tom was like a cat on hot bricks. ‘I want to go on the bus with Kathleen, please, Daddy?’

      A short time later, Harry was out of the door, into the car, and away down the street, waving all the way. ‘Keep your fingers crossed for me!’ he called out.

      ‘We will,’ the pair replied in unison.

      Kathleen’s directions were easy to follow, and within the hour, Harry had gone through Bedford Town and out towards the prison, where he took a sharp left. The store was directly in front of him, exactly where Kathleen had predicted.

      Straddling the entire corner and snaking down a considerable length of the back street, the building made an immediate impression. With its great arched entrance, fancy tiles underfoot and sturdy windows, it was an obvious relic from Victorian times; and there on a massive sign, written in large black letters on a deep mustard background, was the proud announcement:

      JACOBS’ EMPORIUM

      ESTABLISHED 1945

      EVERYTHING YOU NEED FOR HOME AND GARDEN

      Drawing the Hillman Minx into the kerb, Harry switched off the engine and got out of the car. After locking the car, he stooped