Born Bad. Josephine Cox
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to himself, he crossed the room. ‘You’ll find him in the box room,’ she called out. ‘He’ll be watching for you, I’m sure.’
It was a while before Harry came down, and as he walked towards her, Kathleen thought he seemed more at ease. ‘Is the bairn sleeping?’ she asked.
‘Like he hasn’t slept since—’ He pulled himself up short. ‘Yes, he’s sleeping soundly, thanks to you and your magic stories.’
‘It’s always wise to have a few magic stories up your sleeve; you never know when you might need them,’ Kathleen said.
Harry glanced at the pile of dishes to be put away. ‘D’you need a hand?’
‘No, thank you. What I need is for you to sit down and put your feet up. Sure I’ll have these dishes sorted in no time, then, if you’re up to it, you and me will have a heart-to-heart. Would you like that? Or are you feeling a bit weary, what with the long drive an’ all?’
Harry was not ready for sleep. In fact, he desperately needed a catch-up with Kathleen. He had so many questions, and so much to tell. ‘Yes, I’d like that – if you’re sure?’
‘I said so, didn’t I?’ She shook her dishcloth at him. ‘Go on then. Take yourself away to the sitting room and I’ll be with you in no time at all.’
Harry gratefully took his leave. He went into the front room and sat awhile, thinking how welcoming Kathleen’s little house was. He thought about the past and the present and the future, and he grew increasingly restless. It was only a matter of minutes before he got out of the chair and, passing the kitchen, strolled out of the back door and into the garden where the evening shadows had begun to move in.
For what seemed an age he stood by the door, his gaze sweeping that pretty, tiny garden he had known so well as a boy.
Few things had changed. The apple tree was still there, its far-reaching branches touching the bedroom windows as always. The wooden gate that led onto the back lane was still wonky, and the bolt that secured it was still hanging by a thread.
The garden path was new though; where before it had been hardcore and broken concrete, it was now paved with pretty square blocks. The vegetable patch was obviously still in use, because the fork was standing up in the soil. And the patch of grass under the window was forever worn where Kathleen walked when cleaning the windows.
Walking to the far end of the garden on this, the last day of summer, he sat on the same iron bench that he had sat on as a teenager; though it was succumbing to rust in places. As he looked about at all the familiar things, he felt a great sense of homecoming.
He closed his eyes and he could see Judy, the girl who had awakened him to beauty and love, and whose image he had never really lost.
In that split second, steeped in memories, he could not see his beloved Sara. That was when the tears broke loose and he could not stop them. Instead he leaned forward, head in hands, and sobbed at the cruelty of it all. ‘Sara.’ He said her name over and over. He had never wanted anything more in his life than to see her right there, where he could stretch out his arms and hold her so tight she would never leave him again.
From the kitchen window Kathleen saw, and her heart ached for him. ‘Oh, dear boy,’ she murmured. ‘Stay strong. The pain will surely ease, but maybe not the loneliness … ever.’ She knew all about that, since the loss of her own dear Michael.
Not wanting to intrude on Harry’s private grief, she waited a while. She had the pot of tea all ready on the tray, and a plate of biscuits for dunking. Now though, she poured the tea down the sink and slipped the biscuits back into the box.
Going to the sitting room she took out a bottle of the finest brandy from the bottom cupboard, collected two glasses from her best cabinet and, armed with her cure for all ills, she made her way to the kitchen window. Harry, she could see, had come through a very bad time, and was only now appearing to be more in control of his emotions.
‘Ah! There y’are, Harry Boy,’ she slowed her step, wisely allowing him time to recover. ‘When I couldn’t find you in the house, I thought you might be in the garden.’
‘Sorry, Kathleen, I should have told you where I’d be.’ Thankful for her timely intervention, he suspected she had seen him, and was grateful that she made no mention of it.
Falling heavily onto the bench, she gave out a cry. ‘Jaysus, Mary and Joseph! It strikes cold to the nether regions, an’ no mistake!’
Harry grinned. ‘Here – swap places. I’ve warmed my seat up.’ He spied the bottle of brandy and the glasses. ‘So, what’s all this then?’
‘A party in a bottle,’ she laughed. ‘It’s September tomorrow, me laddie. The night air is a bit thin an’ we don’t want to end up with raging pneumonia, now do we, eh?’ She brandished the bottle. ‘This little beauty will chase away the cold, while we sit and talk.’
Placing both glasses in his fist, she told him, ‘Hold the little divils still while I open this ’ere bottle.’
She twisted with all her might until suddenly the top was out and the brandy breathing. ‘Nothing better than a drop o’ the good stuff to warm the cockles,’ she promised, pouring out two good measures.
That done, she replaced the top and stood the bottle on the ground beside her. ‘Bottoms up, Harry me boy!’ Raising her glass, she toasted, ‘Here’s to you and that darlin’ boy of yours – and brighter days ahead for us all.’
Harry drank to that. ‘To all of us! And you’re right,’ he recalled her earlier remark, ‘we do need to talk … if you’re not too tired, that is?’
‘I don’t mind if we sit out here all night,’ she replied. ‘It may be a bit nippy, but the moon is lovely and we’ve got our friend the brandy.’ She settled back in her seat. ‘You and me need to clear the air … especially you, Harry Boy. A trouble shared is a trouble halved. Isn’t that what they say?’
For a time they sat together, two old friends, thrown closer together by life’s cruelties. They had always been easy in each other’s company, and though the two of them had long been separated by time and distance, right now, seated together on that familiar iron bench in that little garden, it was as though they had never been apart.
‘I missed you, Harry Boy.’ Kathleen did not look up. Instead she took a sip of her brandy. ‘For a long time I waited for you to get in touch, after the war ended, or maybe turn up at the door, but you never did. When the years passed and there was no word, I didn’t know what to think. I had no idea where you were, or what you were doing after you were demobbed.’
Harry explained, ‘I just kept going. I didn’t know or care where I would end up.’ When Sara came on the scene, he was little more than a tramp. ‘You can’t imagine how often I wanted to get in touch, but I was too ashamed.’
‘Don’t fret about it,’ she chided. ‘You’re home now, you and little Tom.’ She glanced up at him, her voice charged with emotion. ‘Judy waited for you, every day she was at the window, hoping you’d come striding down the street.’
There was a moment of quiet, before Harry answered in a choked voice, ‘I never meant to hurt her. You know that, don’t you, Kathleen?’
‘I do, yes.’
‘I did love her … so very much.’
‘I know that too.’
‘Do you think I was wrong in leaving like that?’
After carefully considering his question, Kathleen answered in her usual forthright manner. ‘Yes, if truth be told, I do think you were wrong. But who could blame you? There you were, just a lad, when all’s said and done, and it must have seemed like you’d got the world on your shoulders. You weren’t ready or equipped to deal with what Judy told you.’
Harry admitted it. ‘I was knocked