The Beachcomber (31 page)

Taking a floorcloth from the cupboard, she wet it through, wrung it out, and, going into the sitting room, wiped the hearth over until it shone. Next, she made a fan of the leftover newspapers, and set it in the hearth.

She then dusted the furniture and plumped the sofa cushions. All that remained was for her to go into the stair-cupboard and take out the carpet-sweeper.

This was a job she hated, because the stiff bristles on the carpet-sweeper soon got clogged up and needed cleaning every five minutes or so. Still, she told herself, it did a good job and that was all that mattered. “I need one of those vacuum cleaners,” she muttered as she worked. That was another thing she meant to buy when she could afford it. There were a few things she needed, but they weren’t yet priorities on her list.

When the carpet was cleaned, she put away the sweeper and checked the washing; it was ready. Filling the deep pot sink with cold water, she took up the stick; teasing the clothes out one by one, she slid them into the sink, her face bright pink as the warm steam rose like a cloud to envelop her.

She gave the clothes a thorough rinsing, before wringing them out and folding them into her laundry-basket. Next, the boiler was emptied and the job done. “Thank goodness for that!” It was the worst chore of all, she thought.

It didn’t take long to peg them out. Ten minutes later, they were hanging on the line, limp and dripping; until she sent the line sky-high with her wooden prop. Then the clothes caught the breeze and came alive, dancing and leaping about like crazy things.

Stooping to collect the stray pegs from the ground, Kathy was astonished to hear a voice calling her name. “Yoo-hoo! Where are ye, gal?”

Kathy couldn’t believe her ears. “MAGGIE!” Dropping the pegs, she ran to the side gate, and there was Maggie, peering over the top and grinning from ear to ear, asking to be let in. “If this is the way you treat yer visitors, I might not come ’ere again!” she said with feigned disgust.

Throwing open the gate, Kathy grabbed her in a fast embrace. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you let me know?” The questions came thick and fast, with Maggie claiming she was “gasping for a cuppa” and that she would answer all her questions when she’d been “fed and watered.”

Once inside, Maggie asked to be shown around the house, examining every nook and cranny, and making comments as she went. With wide, wondering eyes, she went from room to room upstairs and down. “Cor! Some place
this
is, gal,” she remarked proudly. “Whatever will yer do with all this space?”

Kathy sighed. “Oh, I expect I’ll have to manage somehow,” she answered with a chuckle.

“What! Ye could get three o’ my flats in ’ere an’ no mistake!” Maggie couldn’t believe that Kathy had been fortunate enough to be left such a beautiful place. “An’ you’ve got it so pretty, gal,” she said admiringly, “but then you were allus good at that kinda thing.”

Kathy was glad Maggie had given her approval. It meant a lot for her friend to appreciate her home. “You’re staying with me for a long time, aren’t you?” she asked hopefully.

Maggie was cagey with her answer. “Head for the kitchen,” she suggested, “make us a brew and see if ye can’t find a piece o’ cake or summat, an’ I’ll tell you me plans.”

First settling Maggie in the sitting room with a piece of fruit cake, Kathy set about making a pot of tea, which she then carried into the sitting room along with two cups and saucers, and another helping of cake, just in case Maggie was still hungry. “I can make you some cheese on toast if you like?” she offered. “Or there’s two eggs in the cupboard … I can fry them or poach, whichever way you like.”

Maggie was satisfied. “The cake will do fine, gal,” she replied, “but thanks all the same.”

Thrilled to see her friend, Kathy let herself get carried away. “How long will you stay … a week … two? Oh, Maggie! It’s so good to have you here.”

Maggie dashed all her hopes. “Sorry, gal,” she said with a grimace, “but it’s only a flying visit. I’ll be starting a new job in a couple of days’ time, and I need to get back. I just grabbed the opportunity to come and see you, but I can only stay the one night. Still, now that I know where you are, I’ll make it my business to get back just as soon as I can. Then, maybe I can stay a while longer, eh?”

Kathy was disappointed and it showed, but she did her best to make Maggie feel comfortable. “Never mind,” she said, “as long as you’re here now, and yes, maybe next time we can enjoy a week or so together. Oh, Maggie! I’ve got so much to tell you.”

They sat and talked for a time, about how Kathy was settling in, and how she thought she would be happy here in West Bay, and the two of them were so obviously delighted to be in each other’s company again, even if it was for such a short time.

“And are you going to show me what this place is like then?” Maggie asked pointedly. “I’ll tell yer what I really fancy … a piping hot bag o’ fish and chips.”

“Then you’ll not be disappointed,” Kathy promised her.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Jasper arrived in Bletchley. Then he had a short bus-ride to Woburn, before he found himself in the prettiest village. “By! She certainly chose an interesting place to live.” Impressed by the main street, which was a hive of little craft shops, tall Georgian houses all in a row, and a smattering of cafés and quaint old pubs, he took a minute to glance at the directions that Liz had sent him.

There was a little hand-drawn map. He studied it, mumbling as he read, “Straight up the High Street, past the Bull Inn; keep going, with the market square on your right. Then you pass the Town Hall. Cross the road to a terrace of cottages. You’ll find us at number eight … third along.”

Folding the letter into his pocket, he could see the Bull Inn from where he stood. “By! I could do with summat to wet me whistle,” he muttered. But then he decided the pint of good stuff could wait. Right now, he had other priorities.

Following Liz’s directions to the letter, he eventually came to the row of cottages, as she’d described. Number eight had a pretty red door and a black lion’s-head knocker. He was about to raise the knocker when there came a shout from some way behind him. “JASPER!” As he turned he was almost knocked over by a brown-haired lad, who wrapped himself around Jasper so hard that the old man could hardly breathe. “Oh, Jasper, you came to see us!” Looking up, the boy was in tears. “I never thought you’d come. I never thought I’d see you again!” Laughing now, he held onto Jasper as though he would never let go.

Taking the lad by the shoulders, the old man smiled down on him. “By! Look at you … all growed up and handsome as ever.” Cradling his hands around the boy’s face, his voice shook with emotion. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he’d missed him. “What med yer think I’d not come to see you, eh? Yer shoulda known better.”

The boy looked round. “Have you brought my daddy?”

“No, son, I haven’t seen your daddy.” Now, as the boy dropped his gaze to the ground, the old man thought how like Robert he looked, and how much of a shock it would be for Kathy if ever she saw him. “Where’s yer mam?”

“There!” Quickly hiding his disappointment, the boy pointed. Jasper turned and there she was, almost on them now. Waving and smiling, she began running, with the old man’s fond gaze following her every move. Lovely as ever, with her hair plaited back, and her figure slim and elegant as before, he felt a pang of sorrow at the way she and Robert had been torn apart in such a cruel way.

Dropping her basket to the ground, she threw herself at him, holding onto him as fiercely as the boy had done, as though she was afraid he might suddenly disappear.

After a moment, she drew away. “You can’t know how good it is to see you,” she murmured, and Jasper felt the same.

Holding the boy’s hand, he followed her inside. “You look well,” he remarked. “You’ve not changed, either of yer.” Yet they had, he thought. They seemed older, mellowed somehow, and the light of joy had gone from their eyes. He supposed that was because of Robert, and the circumstances which drove them from West Bay, a place they loved as much as he did. At his words, Liz turned, her whimsical smile betraying what was in her heart.

The cottage was warm and welcoming – like Liz herself, the old man thought. The living room was surprisingly open, with light wood furniture and a pretty Victorian fireplace, and at the far end, beyond the french doors, the garden seemed to stretch away forever. Still alive with late-blooming plants, it was a feast for the eyes. “You’ve got a lovely place here,” he told Liz, and she agreed, but, “It’s not home, Jasper,” she murmured. “It never could be.”

“Come and see your bedroom.” The boy grabbed his hand. “I’ve made you a present.”

Liz laughed. “He spent all week making it,” she explained, and Jasper said he couldn’t wait. “Take your case up,” Liz suggested. “You might as well unpack.”

“Lead on,” he told the boy, who took him at a run across the room and up the stairs. When they got to the far end of the landing, he paused at one door and pointed to another. “That’s the bathroom,” he said, “and this is your bedroom.”

Taking stock, the old man dropped his case to the floor and looked around. It was a pleasant room by any standards. There was a double bed with a cabinet alongside, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers, and on top a vase of yellow chrysanthemums. The curtains were of plain blue fabric, as was the bedspread. On the walls were pictures of boats and seascapes, and when the sun poured in through the window as it did now, the whole room was bathed in light, bringing the seascapes to life.

The boy ran to the dresser. “Look, Jasper! Here’s your present.”

Jasper was amazed; it was a sailing ship, all decked out, its sails unrolled to the wind, its smooth hull brightly painted. “By!” He looked at the boy with admiration, and the smallest tinge of doubt. “Did
you
make that?”

He nodded. “Mum bought me a model. At first I couldn’t understand the instructions and I got a few things wrong, then Mum showed me and I was all right after that.” He was quick to assure Jasper. “I made it all by myself. Honest!”

“Well, you’ve done a grand job, son. Thank you.” He took the ship into his hands and examined its every feature. “I’ll tell yer what.” Replacing it, he gave the boy a hug. “When yer grow up, I reckon you’ll mek a fine craftsman. I expect you’ll make beautiful objects and travel the world. And I for one will be very proud.”

The boy shook his head. “No, Jasper! I want to be a sailor, like you.”

Jasper laughed. “You can be whatever yer like, son, as long as yer happy.”

From the doorway, Liz watched them together. She recalled how Robert used to speak to his son in much the same way. Thinking on it now almost broke her heart. How could he have deserted them like that? Time and again she was forced to remind herself of it. Robert deserted her and the boy. How could she ever forgive him?

Coming across the room, she walked into Jasper’s embrace. “You look well,” she said.

He chuckled. “You know me,” he answered, “I haven’t got time to be owt else.”

“The journey wasn’t too tiring, was it?”

“Not so I noticed.”

“Did you manage to get anything to eat on the way?”

“No. I made straight here, lass.”

“Good! So you must be hungry. I’ve got ham salad. And lemon meringue pie for afterward. I’ve been saving my coupons specially.”

The old man’s stomach grumbled at the thought. “And have yer a suitable drink for an old man who’s traveled miles at yer slightest whim?” He winked at the boy. “I bet yer mam’s forgot what me tipple is.”

She hadn’t forgotten, because when they all trooped downstairs, she poured him a glass of good ale. “You enjoy that while I set about getting the meal.”

Raising the glass, Jasper drank her health and that of the boy. “I reckon me and the lad will sit in the sunshine awhile, if that’s all right with you?” he asked.

She nodded. “That’s a good idea.” Her glance was meaningful. “We’ll talk later, when you can catch me up with all the news.”

“Aye, lass.” He had not forgotten why he was here. “I dare say we’ve a lot to talk about.” At the back of his mind was the knowledge that he was obliged to tell her how Robert was gone for good. It was an unsettling prospect. For the moment, though, he would indulge the boy and do a bit of exploring.

For the next half-hour the two of them roamed the garden. Robbie showed him his favorite tree, complete with tree-house. “It was here when we came,” he explained, “but it was falling apart, so I tidied it all up and made a door. When you’re inside, you can shut it and pretend you’re in the middle of the ocean, all on your own.”

“And is that what you’d like … to be in the middle of the ocean, all on your own?” The old man had noticed how the boy’s voice trembled, and could only imagine what was going on in his young mind.

The boy looked up at him, his eyes welling up with threatened tears. “Why didn’t my daddy come back for me?” Suddenly the tears fell, and he could say no more.

“Come here to me, son.” The old man opened his arms. When the boy clung to him, he spoke softly. “Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand. But your daddy loved you, that I do know.”

For a while the boy cried softly, but when Jasper deliberately brought his attention to a pigeon that had settled on the tree-house, he was momentarily diverted. “I reckon he’s after some of our breakfast, what do
you
think?”