Midnight (28 page)

‘I reckon we’re a good team, you and me,’ said Jack.

‘We’re not bad, are we?’ she agreed. ‘Thanks a lot for the present – I can’t wait to open it. Now, don’t you hang about too long,’ she advised. ‘And don’t lie awake all night thinking about tomorrow, or you’ll be worse than useless.’

Jack smiled. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. See you tomorrow!’

Once he’d posted the completed and signed copy of the rental agreement in through the letterbox of his landlord’s house, Jack went in search of a shop. He soon discovered a small supermarket not all that far from where he would be living. He vaguely recalled that it used to be a paint and wallpaper shop when he was a boy.

He glanced at his watch – eight-thirty already! Today had been fast and furious – and tomorrow would be the same. Jack couldn’t wait to get started. He was convinced that, if they matched the client to the car, kept their prices as competitive as they could . . . then Curtis Warren Motors would get through the creeping recession with flying colours.

A short time later, having done his shopping, he was strolling through the car park, ready to open his car boot and dump his shopping, when he saw a woman standing by her car looking very distraught.

Quickly packing his shopping into the boot of his car, he offered assistance, ‘Can I help?’

‘Are you any good with cars?’ The woman had also just done her shopping and was growing frustrated. ‘The trouble is, I can’t get my old car to start. And I don’t belong to any car-rescue scheme, so I’m in a bit of a mess.’

‘I’ll see if can find out what the problem is,’ Jack promised. ‘I run a showroom out at Lytham, and I’ve been around cars now for a few years . . . so let’s see if I can figure out what’s wrong, eh? Look, here’s my card, so you know who I am.’

Jack soon had the bonnet up and quickly identified the problem. He could tell that the car was on its way out. He noted that it had 128,000 miles on the clock. However, he soon had the engine running, and all the woman had to do was to get behind the wheel and drive away.

‘How can I thank you?’ she asked. She thought instinctively Jack might be offended if she offered him money.

‘Come to our special event tomorrow morning, if you can,’ he suggested. ‘Curtis Warren Motors, over in Lytham – the address is on the card. I’ll look out for you. And who knows – maybe we can fix you up with a reliable new car.’

Bidding her cheerio, he returned to his own car. He had no idea that the whole incident had been observed by Libby, who had just emerged from the staff entrance at the back of the supermarket.

Having put her own shopping down for a moment so she could turn to close the door, she had paused, intrigued by the sight of a tall young man going to the other driver’s assistance. He looked just like the stranger who had loitered under the trees opposite their house the other night . . . and who had been hanging around near the chip shop later on. She recognised his light-blue rain-jacket with its distinctive white panels. Thomas had spoken of him having a big black car and had spelled out its number, all but the last digit. Libby wondered if this man’s car would be the same one.

It was something about his stance that she recognised – something about the way he held himself as he walked along, so sure of himself, sort of easy and confident. It
was
him – she would have bet her day’s wages on it. But there was something else . . . something that made her breathing quicken, something that her heart knew even before her conscious mind had caught up.

Quickly concealing herself beside the paper recycling skip, Libby studied him more closely. Now that she was seeing him in daylight, and he was not completely hidden from sight by his brolly, she could see him for who he was. She could hear his familiar voice, and her heart did a somersault.

It was Jack Redmond!

For what seemed an age, Libby remained concealed but within hearing distance, until Jack had picked up his bags, got into his own car and driven off. Libby was amazed to see that yes, the car was black and the registration number was similar to the one Thomas had mentioned. Only then did she emerge into the open, stunned by the discovery that Jack was back in his home-town, Blackburn.

Suddenly she was fearful. What if she never saw him again? What if she’d found her dear friend, only to lose him again?

Sighing with relief, she then remembered he had told the woman something about Curtis Warren Motors in Lytham. Quickly finding pen and paper, Libby wrote it down. Later she would think what to do about it. She could look it up on her laptop.

For now, she’d better get home. Her mother and Thomas would have been expecting her at least half an hour ago, and she didn’t want to worry them. Excited and reeling with the discovery, she located her car and drove away.

Chapter Nineteen

B
ACK IN
B
OWER
S
TREET
, Thomas was worried. It wasn’t like Libby to be late. He paced up and down, pausing only to look out of his window. ‘She’ll be here soon,’ he told himself. ‘Yes . . . she’ll have been called to do summat an’ nowt, and now she’ll be on ’er way home.’

He toyed with the idea of calling her mobile phone. He even picked up the receiver and began to dial.

‘No. Best not,’ he decided. ‘She’ll think I’m checkin’ up on her, poor lass.’

No sooner had he replaced the receiver than he heard her tapping on his front door. Crossing the room to let her in, he then gently woke Eileen, who had enjoyed a nice nap. ‘Libby’s here, m’darling. Time to go home.’ He would have loved her to stay here with him, but sadly, that was not possible, for many reasons. Some of which were best left alone.

Libby was apologetic. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, Thomas. I’ll explain later on, if that’s OK.’ She went over to Eileen. ‘Fell asleep, did you, Mum? I’m really sorry to be late.’ She bent to kiss her. ‘I’m here now though, and I’m ready for bed.’ She saw her mother yawning. ‘Much like you, by the look of it. The next time they ask me to do a late shift, I won’t be so obliging.’ She was positively bursting to tell Thomas about her sighting of Jack Redmond, but she remained calm in front of her mother.

Eileen had an impish sense of humour, which seemed to just pop out when no one expected it. ‘Libby?’

‘Yes, Mum?’ Libby was easing her mother’s shoes back on her feet. ‘What is it?’

‘Me and Thomas could get married,’ she informed Libby. ‘Then I can sleep here with him, and you won’t need to worry about me so much.’

While Libby was taken aback, Thomas roared with laughter. ‘I don’t know as I could handle a tiger like you,’ he teased.

When Eileen suddenly got up and was taking it upon herself to fetch her coat, Libby quickly went to help.

‘Leave me be, now,’ Eileen edged away. ‘I’m not a baby. I can get my own coat.’ Sometimes, however hard she tried, Eileen could not think straight, so when her head
was
clear, she cherished being able to do every little thing for herself, such as now. ‘I’m all right, love. Stop fussing.’

Wisely, Libby left her to it.

In his usual gentlemanly way, Thomas walked them home.

‘Are you coming in for a nightcap?’ Libby knew she should have phoned him about being late. It was obvious he’d been worried about her.

‘Oh, go on then.’ Thomas loved spending time under this roof. It was like home from home, especially when the two people he loved most in all the world were right here.

Libby was grateful for the company. There was a lot she needed to get off her chest. ‘Mum?’ She helped Eileen take off her coat. ‘Thomas is staying for a nightcap. Do you fancy one?’

Eileen shook her head. ‘No, thank you, dear. I’m very tired.’ She glanced across at Thomas. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I, Thomas?’ For some reason, she felt threatened.

‘Yes, m’dear. You get a good night’s sleep, eh?’

Eileen grew anxious. ‘You’re not going away, are you?’

Thomas ambled over to her. ‘Will yer please stop getting yersel’ into a pickle. I’m just having a nightcap with Libby, then I’m away to my bed, just next door. And that’s as far as I’m going.’

Eileen needed convincing. ‘Promise me you won’t go away?’ Her voice began to shake. ‘Promise you won’t leave me?’

Thomas took her into his embrace. ‘You listen to me, my darling.’ Holding her tight, he spoke softly in her ear: ‘You and Libby are my family now. And I love you both, like my own flesh and blood.’

He held her at arm’s length. ‘I promise I will never leave you. Not as long as I live.’ He then made her smile. ‘You’ll not get rid o’ me that easy!’

Eileen looked into his eyes, so kind, so familiar. All these years she had trusted him. Good times. Bad times. Times when shocking things happen and you can never shut them from your mind, however hard you try.

Reaching up, she touched his face. ‘Goodnight, old friend. God bless.’

‘Night night. God bless.’ He gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow. I’ll think o’ somewhere nice to tek yer, after I’ve spent a couple of hours on the allotment. No doubt there’ll be blackberries down the lane.’

As she climbed the stairs he watched her every step. ‘Sleep tight. Mind the bed bugs don’t bite.’

‘We don’t have bed bugs,’ Eileen called back indignantly.

‘No, ’course yer don’t. I’m just being silly, that’s all.’

‘Well, stop being silly then.’

He stood watching until she was out of sight, then he remained there quietly for a minute or two, his hands on the balustrade. His mind wandered back to a certain day many years ago. The sadness showed on his homely face. ‘G’night, lass,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t turn the clock back, but I can help you along the way.’

His old heart was sore. Where did the years go? Both he and Eileen were now of an age when looking forward was not a good idea. But, when all was said and done, it had to be better than looking back. Looking back was sheer torture – both for him and for that darling woman up there.

Eileen was a good woman. She did not deserve such heartache. The doctors told Libby that her mother’s condition was not as bad as first thought, though it was bad enough, and could not be cured. They even gave her condition a name – psychosis. But Thomas knew different.

He alone knew the real reason for Eileen’s illness. He knew why she sometimes lived in fear. He knew exactly when her condition had started.
And he knew why.

All these years, he had blamed himself. And he would go on blaming himself, until the day he was called before the Good Lord to confess his sins. Maybe then, and only then, would he find peace. It was Eileen that concerned him; because somewhere deep in her tortured mind, she knew it all. And she had no choice but to keep it hidden, for the sake of others. Meanwhile, the weight of it all continued to ravage her mind.

‘Your cocoa is ready,’ Libby called softly. ‘Let’s pinch a few of Mum’s gingernuts and dunk them, shall we?’

Thomas sat down at the table and wrapped his big hands around his mug of cocoa.

‘I’ve been thinking about taking your Mum for a trip into Blackpool on the bus, but I reckon it might be too much for her,’ he said. ‘What d’you think?’

Libby got her cocoa and sat opposite him, taking the lid off the biscuit tin. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Just now, she looked really done in, but that could be because she was late getting to bed. She does love Blackpool, though. One of her favourite things is strolling down the promenade. She says it reminds her of when she and Dad used to take me to Blackpool as a small child.’

Her innocent comments struck deep with Thomas. ‘I remember one time, you must’a been, what . . . eight or nine months old. You’d been to Blackpool with yer Mum and Dad, and as they brought you out the car, you were holding four big, coloured balloons. Laughing out loud, you were, and waving them balloons so high in the air, I thought they’d carry you off and we’d never see you again.’

He smiled at the memory, but then the darkness crept into his mind again, and wiped the smile away. ‘Aye, that were a long time ago,’ he finished lamely.

Just now, while her Mum was in bed and she had Thomas to himself, she had a question for him. ‘Thomas, can I ask you something?’

‘O’ course! Ask away.’

‘What was my father like . . . really?’

For a moment, the old man was taken aback. It seemed an age before he answered. ‘I don’t rightly know what yer mean, lass.’

‘I just wonder, that’s all, because I can’t remember much about him, as I was only three when he left us. I do remember Mum crying a lot, I think – and Dad yelling at her. Beyond that . . . nothing at all.’

Thomas put her mind at rest. ‘As far as I know, yer Dad were no different from many another bloke on the street. He worked hard, and I dare say he had a bet on the football pools, and a few bevies of a Friday night, but other than that, he and yer Mum got on all right . . . as much as any married couple get on.’

‘Thank you.’ She was grateful for that. ‘I suppose what you remember as a small child can get a bit twisted. I mean, it would be a strange couple that never argues, wouldn’t it? And Mum obviously loved him. Otherwise she wouldn’t be sneaking out in the middle of the night trying to find him, would she?’

Libby pondered for a moment. ‘Thomas, can I ask you something else?’

‘’Course yer can.’ Uncomfortable at her questions, he prepared himself.

‘If my Dad loved my Mum, why would he go off with some other woman?’

Thomas explained as best he could. ‘Unfortunately, it happens, lass. Sometimes a man begins to get bored with life – especially if he works long hours, like your Dad did. So, he starts to wander, looking for a bit o’ fun to spice up his life. It doesn’t mean he’s fallen out of love with his wife. But then one day, he meets a woman who’s different from the others. She worms her way into his life. She’s never going to be happy with a two-night fling. She’s looking for someone to set up with, and once she sets her sights on a particular man, she usually gets him in the end – even if he’s married with children. Women like that are home-wreckers wi’ no conscience.’

When she was growing up, Libby had heard the gossip about her father and other women. ‘That must have been so hard for Mum,’ she said now. ‘I don’t know how she put up with it.’