Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
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and bit by bit, with great difficulty, he managed to emerge; then it was a trial negotiating the ladder, as it wobbled and creaked with his every step. ‘I can see next time I come and visit I shall ’ave to mek you a stronger ladder!’
Afraid Jasper might get hurt, Robbie watched until he was safely down.
With a great sigh of relief, the old man dropped to the ground. ‘By! Never again!’ He was all hot and bothered, his face as red as a beetroot and every bone in his old body shrieking out.
He watched the boy run to his mother, who had been anxiously waiting. As he ran into her arms, she closed her love about him, and together they walked into the house.
Realising their need to be alone, the old man didn’t follow for a while. Instead he sat on the bench, recovering from his own ordeal.
From behind him, the sound of the boy sobbing, and Liz’s gentle reassurance, even though her own heart was breaking, was something the old man would remember for the rest of his life.
Some time later, Liz came out to bring him inside. ‘Thank you, Jasper,’ she said. ‘You’ve been a real friend to both of us.’
When they came into the kitchen, Jasper asked after the boy. ‘Will he be all right, d’yer think?’
She led him into the sitting room. ‘He’s more settled now, thanks to you.’
The old man was choked to see how the boy was fast asleep on the sofa. ‘It were a hard thing for him to find out,’ he said as Liz quietly closed the door. ‘Look, lass, I’m sorry I had to bring such awful news.’
‘In a way, I’m glad you did,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve answered so many of my questions. Robbie’s, too, though it’s all a bit too much for him right now.’
He understood what she meant. When he first set foot in this pretty place, there was an air of confusion and doubt, and a sense of deep unhappiness. Now it was as if the curtain of doubt and confusion had lifted. And yes, there was still unhappiness, but it would pass in the fullness of time; he knew that from experience.
‘Will you stay a few more days, Jasper?’
‘If you want me to, lass.’
‘We both want you to.’
‘Aye, well’ – he gave her a wink – ‘it’ll give me time to build a new ladder. That one’s falling apart at the seams.’
She threw her arms round him. ‘Thank you.’
That was all she said.
But it was enough.
IT HAD BEEN late when Kathy went to bed, having waved goodbye to Maggie earlier in the day, and since then she had hardly slept a full hour.
Now, at four o’clock in the morning, she was wide awake.
For a time she lay there, her head in the pillows and her arms flung out across the sheet. Pent-up and restless, she closed her eyes and tried to relax, but it was no use.
‘Damn it!’ Throwing off the bedclothes, she clambered out of bed and went to the window. Whenever she found it difficult to sleep, Kathy always went to look out of the window: there was something calming about seeing what was going on in the outside world; it seemed to focus the mind.
‘I wonder if Dad used to stand by this window and look out?’ she murmured, her eyes shifting to the photograph on her bedside cabinet. ‘I wonder if he ever got so churned up and worried that he couldn’t sleep?’
She thought about his double life, and imagined there must have been many a time when he was worried he might be found out, and that it would all cave in on him.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she detected a movement down on the beach. A closer look and she recognised the shadowy figure. ‘Tom!’ She glanced at the clock: it showed the time as ten past four. She wondered what he was doing down there at this time of morning, yet she wasn’t overly concerned, for hadn’t she seen him, time and again, strolling the beach, pausing every now and then to pick up a pebble or a shell? The old baccy jar on his mantelpiece was filled to the brim with them; he’d shown them to her one day when Jasper and she were visiting.
She watched him for a while, then shivered when the chill of early morning began to penetrate her bones. Returning to the bed, she collected her robe and threw it over her shoulders. By the time she got back to the window, he was gone. Saddened, she turned away. When a moment later she climbed into bed, Tom was strong in her mind.
Holding her father’s photograph, she opened her heart to him. ‘I know how you used to say that one day I’d find the right man. Well, now I think I have, but isn’t it strange how I had to come all this way to find him?’
She wagged a finger at him. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ she chided. ‘You bought this house for me, because you knew I would come here and there he would be.’
A sense of regret washed through her. ‘He’s going away, though. I don’t know when, but I do know it will be very soon.’ In the circumstances she couldn’t blame him. ‘Maybe when he finds the person who murdered his family, he’ll be able to put it behind him, and there’ll be a chance for us.’
She smiled wistfully. ‘If you have any influence up there, see what you can do, will you?’
Growing serious, she confessed her innermost thoughts. ‘I love him, Dad. He’s the kindest, most wonderful man I’ve ever met.’
Replacing the photograph, she slid down in the bed, but there was no sleep in her. For a while, she was half tempted to go and find him, but common sense prevailed. She told herself that he may not thank her, that walking the beach in the dead of night when the world was sleeping was his way of clearing his mind. From what Tom had already confided, he needed to gather the strength and purpose to deal with what was potentially an explosive situation.
Fearful about the outcome of it all, she went downstairs, where she made herself a cup of cocoa and sat at the table, rolling the warm cup round in her hands and lazily sipping at the hot, frothy liquid.
After a time, when the warmth of the liquid dulled her senses and the sleep crept up on her, she climbed the stairs back to bed. Within an hour she was sound asleep.
It was Tom who woke her.
His persistent rat-tatting on the front door startled her.
In two minutes she was at the front door. ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me … Tom.’
Inching the door open, she was embarrassed to let him in, what with her hair uncombed and the sleep still in her eyes.
Tom thought she looked lovely. He liked the way her hair tumbled over her forehead, and that sleepy, childish look that made her seem vulnerable. ‘I wondered if you’d like to come out on the boat later?’
Kathy shook herself awake. ‘Is he back then … Jasper?’
‘Not yet.’
Kathy was impressed. ‘What? You mean you’re taking the boat out by yourself?’
‘That was the idea.’ He shrugged. ‘Jasper reckons I’m about ready to take over the helm.’ He feigned disappointment. ‘But if you don’t trust me?’
‘No! I mean …’course I do, and yes, I’d love to come out on the boat with you.’ She thought it was a wonderful idea. ‘What time?’
‘Half past ten all right?’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘And don’t forget to wear something sensible … you’ll need plimsolls and a warm jumper. There’s a bite in the breeze this morning.’