Blood Brothers. Josephine Cox
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he had known her forever.
He did not know that even now, while he was thinking of Alice, she was thinking of him.
Upstairs, seated on the edge of her bed, Alice wondered about Joe, and his brother Frank; tonight she had realised how very different they were.
She had witnessed a side to Frank that she had never seen before.
She had been shocked and ashamed to hear how he expected a share of her parents’ money like it was his Godgiven right. Moreover, he had stubbornly refused to listen to reason. Instead, he came across as being self-important and unable, or unwilling, to recognise his own faults.
For the first time, she began to wonder if he had ever really seen her as being his partner for life, someone to build a future with. Could they trust and support each other like married couples do?
What real part would she play in Frank’s empire-building, she wondered. Did he expect her to be seen and not heard, while she raised his children like the timid little wife, watching from a distance while he shut her out in the same way her mother had done; as though her opinions didn’t matter?
Feeling ashamed and guilty for thinking that way, she decided she must give him the benefit of the doubt.
His attitude tonight had been unfortunate, but it could well have been the drink talking, she thought hopefully. No doubt in the light of day, he would be mortified to know what he had said.
After deliberating, Alice came to the conclusion that, for better or worse, Frank was her man, and soon she would be his wife. When and if they were ever able to own their own farm, it went without saying that she would surely be involved in any decision making.
So, with that in mind, she decided that the sensible thing to do was to put Frank’s unfortunate outburst well and truly behind them.
After all, it had been a wonderful evening; Joe was home, and with all the excitement and the wine, things were said which otherwise, may never have seen the light of day.
Moreover, because she had put him straight with regard to her parents’ dubious generosity, the subject would probably never arise again. As far as she was concerned, that was an end to it.
Her thoughts turned to Frank’s brother, Joe.
Alice saw how Joe had remained silent, carefully listening to Frank, and studying the situation before speaking his mind.
Alice had been grateful for Joe’s intervention. She appreciated Joe’s quiet, confident approach, which in her opinion had helped to calm a difficult situation this evening.
She liked Joe. Yes! She liked him a lot.
Consumed with all manner of thoughts and unable to sleep, she got up from the bed quietly so as not to wake Frank. She was agitated, and for some inexplicable reason, she suddenly felt deeply sad.
Carefully now, she tiptoed across the landing and into the bathroom; pausing only when she heard what sounded like rhythmic rolls of thunder coming from Nancy and Tom’s room. ‘That’ll be Tom sending home the sheep,’ she thought with a little grin.
Once inside the bathroom, she cleaned her teeth and had an all-over wash, before going back to the bedroom where she put on her nightgown and brushed her hair.
Afterwards, she lay on top of the bed; half-dreaming half-thinking, but with not an ounce of tiredness in her body. Instead, she felt unusually restless.
She had to get out. She needed to breathe the cool night air. ‘Maybe I’ll go to the barn and check to see if the falcon is all right,’ she said softly to herself. Yes! She decided that would be a good thing to do.
Barefoot and in a hurry, she threw her pink robe around herself, tied the belt tight, turned up the collar and went like a whisper down the stairs and silently out the door.
Relieved to have got away from the house without waking anyone, she set about negotiating the darkened path to the barn; while underfoot the way was uncomfortable without shoes, yet she seemed not to notice.
It seemed to take forever, but at last she found herself standing at the barn door. Once there, she carefully lifted the bar, and pushed open the heavy door.
It was dark inside. ‘Now where did I see Frank put the lamp?’ she muttered to herself. One evening when they came back late from the field together, she had watched as he put the tilly lamp safely away, and she remembered it was up high.
It was too dark to see. Going up on tiptoe, she ran her hand along the upper wall, and there nearest the window, she found a shelf. Very carefully, for fear she might dislodge something heavy, she gingerly walked her fingers along the shelf, until her hand alighted on a metal object.
She thought she could feel the iron handle and the glass dome. ‘That’s it!’ Clutching it in her two hands, she brought the object down, giving a sigh of relief when she realised it actually was an old tilly lamp.
Reaching up again, she found the box of matches, and with the door open she was glad to see how the moon had risen and was shining a low, ghostly light, to help her see what she was doing.
Carefully now, she raised the glass dome from the top of the lamp and placed it tenderly down. Striking a match along the rough side of the matchbox, she put the flame to the wick.
Almost at once, the wick spluttered into life and lit the barn with a soft, yellow glow.
Giving a sigh of relief, Alice now carried the lamp high as she made her way to the far end of the stables.
Once there, she climbed on to the bales of hay, so she could see the falcon more clearly. ‘Hello, you!’ Thrilled when the bird turned to peer at her through bright, beady eyes, she saw how the mellow light from the lamp appeared to give its feathers a bronze, velvety sheen. ‘Oh, but you really are a magnificent creature!’ In awe, she climbed higher, until she was almost on a level with the cage.
Leaning on the wooden rail, she stared up at him, amazed by the rich, vibrant colours in his wings, and the strong, clean shape of his head, so perfectly angled, and dark as night.
She studied him for what seemed an age, her mind and memory drinking in that raw, wild beauty.
Alice had never been that close to a falcon before.
It was an experience she would never forget.
In the farmhouse, Joe lay on the sofa, half awake, contemplating the future. He did his best to shut Alice from his mind, but she clung to him, as though she was touching every nerve and sense in his body. She was like an addiction; the more you had of her, the more you wanted. ‘You’re a damned fool, Joe!’ he hissed. ‘That kind of thinking can only bring unhappiness!’
For a moment he was alert, sitting up and listening. A short time ago, he thought he heard a noise, but then he put it down to the old creaking floorboards. ‘Best try and get some sleep,’ he assured himself. ‘What with Jimmy being an outcast, I dare say Frank will need all the help he can get tomorrow.’
Lying down, he drew the blanket up. Then he sat up, got out of bed, and begun pacing the floor again. Twice more he prepared to sleep, and each time, sleep eluded him.
He made his way to the kitchen, softly so as not to wake anyone. Once there he filled the kettle and put it on to boil. ‘A hot drink,’ he decided, ‘that should help me settle.’
He made the tea and sat at the table, but still he was unable to settle. All manner of disturbing thoughts raced through his mind, of prison, and the way of life that had driven him almost to the brink of insanity. Prison was a place of destitution, a place where there was no joy, and everyone was out for themselves.
Some men, like him, may have been innocent of the crime laid against them, but there were others…evil beasts who fed on violence and intimidation. Men who had committed murder and probably worse.
Things went on behind those walls; bad things that Joe would never again want to witness.
His