Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
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under her breath. ‘They’ll not be waiting long if you keep yelling and screaming!’
She smiled at Kathy. ‘Good luck with the interview, dear,’ she said, and before Kathy could answer, Mabel was off serving another customer.
The first thing Kathy did when she got home was to wash her new dress. Hanging on the line, it danced and shivered in the summer breeze, its colours bright and refreshed, and looking prettier than when she had first seen it.
She had already cleaned the house before going into Bridport, but now she walked through every room, throwing open windows and letting the breeze wash in. The house already looked better. It had taken hours of scrubbing and washing – and there were none of the new labour-saving devices in place that her mother had in London – but it had been a labour of love for Kathy. When she got to her own bedroom, she leaned out the window, always delighted by what she saw.
Today being Saturday, there were more people round the harbour: mums and dads; children eating ices; old couples sitting on the wall chatting; fishermen with their lines and legs dangling over the edge of the pier; other people busy in their boats – speedboats, fishing boats, small cruisers. The lively scene was a feast to the eyes and a joy to the heart. Kathy loved every minute of it.
‘Hey!’ From the street below, Jasper’s voice interrupted her daydreams. ‘Where’ve yer been, lass? I’ve already called round three times this morning. What ’ave yer been up to?’
‘Hello, Jasper!’ As always, Kathy was pleased to see him. ‘Wait there. I’ll come down.’
Running down the stairs two at a time, she soon reached the bottom and opened the front door. ‘Come in’ – she beckoned him inside – ‘and I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to.’
She hadn’t seen the letter lying on the mat, but the old man caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye. ‘Somebody loves yer,’ he chuckled. Sweeping the envelope up, he followed her into the kitchen, where he dropped it on to the table. ‘Looks like I’m playing at being postman now,’ he joked. ‘You’ll want me mekkin’ me own tea next.’
Taking him up on the roundabout offer, Kathy answered craftily, ‘What a good idea! Lots of milk, one sugar. Thanks, Jasper, you’re a pal.’ She tore open the envelope. ‘I think this is Maggie’s writing.’
‘Yer cheeky little bugger!’ He saw how she was intent on reading the letter and promptly forgave her. ‘Oh, go on then, lass, I’ll mek the tea. And don’t blame me if it’s not to yer liking.’
Putting the kettle on, he grumbled and moaned. ‘While I’m at it, I might as well mek us a few slices o’ toast. After that, happen you’d like me to polish the furniture, or mek the beds. I could even clean the winders … or, I might sweep the yard and give it a wash down. An’ what about the garden … I might as well carry on turning that over while I’m at it.’ Quietly chuckling to himself, he turned to look at her, but she wasn’t even listening. ‘All right then, lass.’ He got busy. ‘Tea and toast coming up.’ By now he knew Kathy’s kitchen well enough to have the tray ready in no time.
‘Now then, young Kathy’ – he made his way to the table – ‘don’t you go telling me the toast is burnt, ’cause it ain’t my fault. It’s that useless grill o’ yourn!’ Shoving the plate of curled-up toast in front of her, he poured them each a cup of tea, and sat himself down, continuing to mutter and complain. ‘I turned it right down, but it still burnt the toast …’
He saw that she was still intently reading the letter, sometimes smiling, sometimes groaning. ‘By! Yer not listening to a word I’m saying,’ he protested.
Raising her head, Kathy’s eyes shone with delight. ‘Oh, it’s good to hear from Maggie!’
‘Is this the lass you told me about?’ he asked. ‘The one who’s allus in and out o’ trouble?’
‘She’s not that bad,’ Kathy laughed, ‘but she is unpredictable. You never know what she’ll be up to next.’ Catching sight of Jasper about to bite off a piece of blackened toast, she was horrified. ‘You’re not going to eat that, are you?’
‘I certainly am,’ he replied, happily chewing, ‘every last bite.’
Kathy took a bite of hers, but couldn’t stomach it. ‘Thanks for the tea,’ she said. ‘Now then, what’s wrong?’
‘What d’yer mean?’ He took a huge bite of his toast and could say no more, for the moment anyway.
‘You said you’d been round three times already this morning,’ she reminded him. ‘So … what’s wrong?’
He took a gulp of his tea, catching his breath when it proved to be too hot. ‘Oh, aye!’ He bit off another piece of toast and commenced chewing, with the words coming out in between each chew. ‘Where’ve yer been?’ Instead of answering her question, he had one for her.
‘I caught the early bus into Bridport,’ she answered. ‘Look!’ She drew his attention to the dress on the line. ‘I bought a new dress for the interview on Monday morning. What do you think?’
He took a peep. ‘I think it’s right pretty.’
‘So, why did you want to see me?’
‘Oh, it’s just that, well … me an’ Tom wondered if you’d like to come out with us this afternoon?’
Kathy was surprised. She didn’t really know Tom. ‘I’m not sure. Except for what you’ve told me about him, and the odd time we’ve bumped into each other, I hardly know him.’
The old man winked. ‘Mebbe not, lass, but yer like him, don’t yer?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Kathy could feel the blush spreading all over her face and neck.
‘Ah!’ He tapped his nose. ‘I don’t need “telling”. I’ve got eyes. I’ve seen the two of youse, peeping at each other. It don’t tek twopenn’ orth of common sense to see how you’re drawn to each other. And don’t deny it, ’cause you’ll only mek matters worse!’
‘Well, we’ve hardly spoken, but I do like him,’ Kathy admitted shyly. ‘But I don’t know about coming out.’
‘Go on, lass,’ Jasper said as he saw her hesitate. ‘If yer get the job at the site, you’ll not ’ave time for much else. What with overtime and that, you’ll be clapped out once yer get home. So, what d’yer say?’ He saw she was weakening. ‘It’ll be entertaining, if nowt else.’
Kathy thought it might be fun to spend some time in Tom’s company. ‘All right, yes.’
‘Good! I’ll be here to pick you up at two o’clock.’
‘Hang on a minute.’ Kathy had a question. ‘You haven’t told me where we’re going.’
‘We’re off to look at a boat.’ The old man couldn’t conceal his excitement. ‘An old friend o’ mine is giving up the sea … he’s not in the best of health these days, poor devil. Anyway, he can’t keep up with it all any more, so he’s getting rid of the boat, and I don’t mind telling yer, it’s a good ’un!’
Though he had never been able to afford one, boats were his passion. ‘Anyway, the boat’s nobbut four year old, and hardly done any work at all.’
‘So, is Tom planning to use it for fishing?’ She had seen how he was always helping out on one fishing boat or another, and how he seemed to love it.
‘I don’t know about the “fishing”, lass. It’s not that kind o’ boat.’ Taking a slurp of his tea, the old man wiped his moustache. ‘Since Tom’s been helping out on the boats, he’s really tekken to it. He’s been toying with the idea of buying his own boat for some time, and now I’ve found a good ’un at a reasonable price, he’s keen to ’ave a look at it.’
‘If