The Beachcomber (30 page)

He explained how Liz and Robert became good friends, and then how friendship blossomed into love. “I introduced them,” he said proudly. “Liz and I were collecting shells for her garden, when we bumped into him. I asked if he’d like to join us for a drink at the café, and before yer knew it, he and Liz were like old buddies.”

Leaning back in his chair, he went on, “They saw each other most every day; when he went away, she watched at the window for him to come back. By! I’ve never seen two people so much in love … it were a pleasure to watch. It weren’t long afore Barden House was on the market, and he bought it. He were a businessman … worked hard and traveled far in his work. He bought the house, and spent time here, whenever his work allowed. They lived there together, and then they had a son.”

He took a moment before going on, in a quiet, reverent voice. “Folks round here turned a blind eye to them not being married … we all reckoned Liz deserved same happiness. Then, one day last year, he went away and never came back. Poor Liz were broken-hearted. She spent weeks watching and waiting, but he never did return. Soon after that, she closed up Barden House, put this cottage up for rent, and left. She said she were headed for Scotland or Ireland or somewhere. Me and the agent were given joint responsibility for the cottage, and I’ve done my best by her. Yet, it’s a strange thing, working for someone you can’t contact.”

Tom wondered aloud, “Why would he do that … just leave and never come back? Especially if he was so happy with her.”

The old man explained how Robert had discovered he was very ill. “He didn’t want her to know; he were trying to protect her,” he said. “But I wonder if that was the right thing to do? It caused her so much pain … mebbe even more pain than if he’d let her know the reason for his going.”

“It does seem harsh.” Tom thought it was the saddest, most noble thing he had ever heard. “I suppose he thought he was doing the right thing for her. But he was making a tremendous sacrifice, when he must have wanted her close, more than anything in the world.”

“She certainly suffered, I can tell yer,” Jasper told him. “And, like you say, I’m sure it was a hard thing for him to do, poor devil!” Jasper had thought long and hard about it since Kathy told him. “While Liz was thinking he’d left because he didn’t want her or the child anymore, the poor man was fighting for his life; probably aching to let her know, but not wanting to hurt her.”

He now revealed what Tom had begun to suspect. “He were wed, d’yer see? Got children from his marriage an’ all. It couldn’t have been easy either way.”

Finally, he told Tom of Liz’s letter and of how she wanted him to go and see her. “So there yer ’ave it, son. I’ve a sorry duty to perform, but she has to know. It would be wicked not to tell her the truth.”

Tom was intrigued. “If he went away and just never came back, how did you find out what happened? Did he write and ask you not to tell her?”

“No. It were a
lass
who told me.” He gave a little secret smile. “A lass that you know very well.” While Tom searched his mind, Jasper revealed, “It were
Kathy
as told me.”

Now Tom was confused. “But … how would
she
know?”

“Because the man Liz fell in love with were Kathy’s own father.”

“My God! Did she know … about Liz, I mean?”

The old man shook his head. “The poor lass knew nothing of his life here in West Bay until after he were gone. He bought Barden House in her name, before his son were born. When she found out about her father and his secret life, she were terrible upset. Oh, not because of that, but because he hadn’t trusted her enough to confide in her. Y’see, from what I can gather, she and her father were very close. She were distraught at losing him. I reckon that’s why she’s settled so well in the house, because that’s where he found the happiness he never found with her mother.”

He went on. “We talked, y’see … me an’ Kathy. That’s when she told me who she was, and how she came to be here.” He pursed his lips when deep in thought, as he was now. “She’s had a hard time all told,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve taken her to heart.”

Tom was astonished. So it seemed he wasn’t the only one with secrets. “I never knew. And does she know … about Liz and her father?”

The old man nodded. “She does now, because I told her. She wanted to learn everything about her father and his life here. I told her all I knew … about how much in love they were, and how she’s got a baby brother she’s never seen. It were a terrible shock, I can tell yer.”

Tom thought about Kathy, and his feelings for her, and it seemed to him that her father had loved this woman, Liz, with the same passion and commitment with which he loved Kathy. He thought it a strange and wonderful thing; but then, Fate had a habit of weaving her web in a way that surprised them all.

“Will Kathy be going with you … to see Liz and the boy?”

The old man shook his head. “No. Like I say, I’ve only just found out myself where Liz is staying. I haven’t told Kathy, and I don’t intend to. Y’see, Tom, it ain’t my business to do that … It’s for Liz herself to do.”

His mind was made up. “Soonever she gets over the shock of what happened to Robert, I mean to ask her to come and meet his daughter.”

“Do you think she will?”

“I don’t know. But it has to be
her
choice.”

“So, you don’t want me to mention any of this to Kathy?”

“I’d be grateful for that.”

“Then I’ll forget we even talked about it.”

“Can I ask you summat else?”

“Ask away.”

“I think it might be best if I don’t see Kathy before I go, in case she asks where I’m going. I’ve never been one for telling a lie, and I don’t want to start now. Especially when it’s Kathy.”

Tom anticipated his question. “So, you want me to tell her you’re away, is that it?”

“That’s it, son.” Jasper was relieved. “If yer could just say I’ve gone to see an old friend, you’ll not be lying, and hopefully that should satisfy her curiosity.”

“Consider it done.” It was little enough, Tom thought.

“I appreciate that.” The old man explained, “If I can persuade Liz to come and see her, or even write to her, it’ll all be worth it, I reckon.”

“I hope she agrees.” Tom also thought it would be a good thing. “From what you’ve told me, I think it would benefit them both.”

Before leaving, the old man shook Tom by the hand, telling him in a half-whisper: “It would do my old heart good to see you and Kathy as happy and content as they were.”

Tom understood. For didn’t he want the very same, with all his heart?

The following morning at early light, the old man left his house and made his way down George Street. Not a soul was awake, and only the cats were about. “Hello, you.” Pausing to stroke the tabby cat, he tickled its ear and gave a word of warning. “You’d best take yersel’ in outta the cold, afore yer tail drops off.”

Chilled by the early mist that rolled in off the sea, he pulled up the collar of his coat and, quickening his steps, made off toward the main road.

There were only two passengers on the bus besides himself: a sleepy-eyed young lad who, judging by his worn black Wellingtons and the cut of his clothes, was a farmhand on his way to work; and a businessman in trilby and long coat, carrying a battered briefcase. From his confident smile and chirpy manner, Jasper assumed he was some sort of salesman.

“Morning.” Returning the man’s bright greeting, Jasper set his small case down beside his feet, shuffling uncomfortably in his best coat and hat. He didn’t look at the man again, because he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He needed to plan how he would tell Liz why her beloved Robert had not come back.

After being deposited a short distance from the railway station, he quickly made his way there. He boarded the train and showed his ticket, and was no sooner settled in his seat than the train was off. With a great whoosh of steam and a tug on the whistle, it was soon chugging away, its noisy, rhythmic motion lulling him to sleep.

On the same morning, Kathy was coming out of the shop when she almost collided with the postman. “I’ve a letter for you, Miss.” A jolly-faced man with a head like a billiard ball, he knew every man, woman and child within a ten-mile radius of West Bay. “I really should deliver it through your letterbox myself,” he said dryly, “but, well, seeing as I’ve bumped into you like this, I don’t suppose it would do any harm, just this once.” He glanced down at the letter. “From somebody important is it, d’you think?”

“I won’t know till I look inside.” Holding out her hand, Kathy thought she had better take it from him before he opened it himself. “I don’t know who could be writing to me,” she remarked, quickly taking possession of the letter. “Hardly anyone knows my address.”

“Really?” He liked a bit of gossip, and being a postman offered unique opportunities in that direction. “Is that from neglect or choice?” he wanted to know.

“Choice,” Kathy declared. “The fewer people who know where I am, the more peace and quiet I’ll get.”

“Peace and quiet!” He was amazed. “I should have thought a young woman like yourself would welcome company?”

Kathy gave him one of her sweeter smiles. “Well, you’d be wrong then, wouldn’t you?” Itching to see who the letter was from, she hurried away.

She could hear him moaning as she went. “Well, I never,” he complained to the old shopkeeper. “There’s a young madam if ever I saw one!”

If he thought to get support from Jasper’s old pal, he was mistaken, for as Kathy turned the corner she could hear the old woman’s curt reply. “Serves you right for being such a nosey old so-and-so!” And off she went back inside to take a well-earned pinch of snuff.

Closing the front door behind her, Kathy threw off her coat. Going to the table, she sat herself down. The handwriting was childish, but she knew whose it was.

Ripping open the envelope, she read the first line. It was enough to tell her that the letter really was from Maggie.

As she read she began to smile, then she tittered, then she was laughing out loud. In full color and with her incorrigible sense of humor, Maggie had written a lengthy account of her recent exploits. It began:

Hello, Kathy, old gal,

What yer been up to then, eh? Whatever it is, I bet yer ain’t been having as much fun as your old friend, Maggie.

What have I been up to now, you may well ask. Well, I’ll tell you. First of all, that asshole of a manager at the pictures gave me the bleeding sack! Would you believe it, eh? Bloody cheek! And me the best usherette he’s ever had … no, not in that way, gal … I mean, I’m the best usherette he’s ever had … under the table, and on it. In between the rows of seats after everybody’s gone home, and anywhere else that took our fancy.

Only I had this unholy row with this old woman, and her snotty-nosed ratbag of a kid! I’d like to have wrung both their bleedin’ necks, only I never got the chance. Anyway, the upshot of it all is this; me and the old cow got into another fight, and there was this other old bugger who went berserk with an umbrella, and all hell were let loose. Everybody walked out and the manager had to pay money back, and I got the blame … as usual!

So then I got the sack, but he paid me well, though I bet he wished to God he hadn’t, ’cause I phoned his wife and said he were sick. Then I teased the old bugger like there was no tomorrow. When his wife walked in, I started crying an’ screaming about how he’d taken advantage of me, poor girl that I am. She offered me money to keep my mouth shut – all to do with pride and shame I expect. Truth is, gal, I don’t give a bugger what it’s to do with, so long as it’s me as comes off best in the end, which this time I did!

Anyway, that’s all my news, except to say I ain’t forgot where yer are, gal, don’t think that. Now I got some money, I’m hoping to have a little holiday. One o’ these fine days, I’ll turn up on your doorstep like a bad penny, you see if I don’t.

Till then, take care of yourself, gal.

Luv yer till the cows come home, Maggie.

There was spilt ink and coffee stains all over the pages. “You’ll never change, will you, Mags, and thank God for that.” Kathy had laughed so hard her sides ached. She longed to see her friend.

She turned her attention to the chores of the day.

The laundry was her first task. Being used to taking her clothes to the laundry in Acton, and washing out her smalls in the sink, she had found it hard to get used to the copper-boiler that sat in the corner of the outhouse. She still washed her smalls in the bath, but for sheets and towels and anything heavy she had learned to use the boiler; though she had seen an advertisement for a twin-tub washing machine that she meant to buy when she had enough money. For now, though, it was sleeves rolled up and get on with it.

When the water was boiling she dropped the clothes in one by one, submerging them with the help of a long wooden stick which stood beside the boiler. When the clothes were rising and steeping, she went back inside the house.

Taking a newspaper and handbrush, she went to the fire-grate, where she dropped to her knees. It wasn’t a hard job, but it was dirty and dusty. So, she went slowly … shoveling the ashes out from underneath and placing them ever so gently into the laid-out newspaper.

When the ashes were all out, and the cinders piled onto the grating ready for the next fire, she folded the newspaper to make a little bag. She then carried the bag out to the bin, and returned to the kitchen.