Alfred Hunter gazed up at his son with tortured eyes. ‘I won’t disgrace her or you.’
‘Good. Now, I know it won’t be easy for you because you’ve been permanently drunk since you arrived home, but I’ll help you through the next week. After that you are on your own.’
‘I have tried, really I have . . . I’m sorry, son.’
‘It’s too late for apologies.’ Bob took some coins out of his pocket and put them on the table. ‘That should get you through the week, but it’s the last I’ll be giving you.’ Then he left the scullery and made his way upstairs to try and get some sleep. He had done all he could for the moment.
The morning of the funeral dawned bright and warm, and Bob was grateful for the sunshine. If it had been a gloomy day it would have made everything even more upsetting.
Steve walked into the scullery. ‘Where is he, Bob?’
‘Still in bed, and I was about to drag him out. I don’t think he had quite as much to drink last night as he usually does, but I doubt he will be completely sober this morning.’
Steve nodded, his expression grim. ‘Come on, lad, I’ll give you a hand. We’ll manage him between us.’
‘Thanks.’
Alfred Hunter was up, washed and dressed without a murmur. With Bob on one side of him and Steve on the other they arrived at the church without mishap.
During the service and at the graveside, Alf pushed aside their restraining hands and stood unaided, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Bob didn’t dare look at him or his anger would rise again, and this was no place for such emotions. He needed to remember his mum with love in his heart. She had been so brave.
Daisy and Ruth had prepared sandwiches, cakes and tea for the neighbours and friends who had attended. Both parents had been only children, so there weren’t any close relatives, but it had been a good turnout. Helen had been well liked and quite a few had come to pay their respects.
It had been a simple funeral, but a dignified one, and Bob was immensely grateful to the Coopers. Finally the last person left, and Bob sat at the table, giving a huge sigh of relief. Everything had gone well and the old man had made an effort, talking to people and remaining on his feet.
Steve Cooper gathered his family together. ‘Time to go. Bob will want to be on his own now.’
Bob gave him a grateful look. ‘Where is he?’
‘Asleep in the armchair,’ Daisy told him. ‘I should leave him there, Bob, he’s exhausted. And so are you. Try and get some rest.’
He nodded wearily. ‘I’ll try. Thank you for all your help. You’ve been wonderful.’
Steve gripped his shoulder for a moment, and then herded his family out of the door.
When he was finally alone, Bob rested his head in his hands and cried for the first time that day. After a while he dried his eyes and put the kettle on to make a strong cup of tea, feeling better now he’d let his sorrow come out. He’d been bottling it up ever since his mum had died.
Holding a fresh cup of tea between his hands he took a deep breath. All he had been able to think about was getting through the funeral, but now that was over it was time to make some decisions.
After draining the cup he stood up and went to the front room. The man asleep in the armchair seemed like a stranger to him, and he felt pity when he remembered the vital man who had once been his dad. But pity wasn’t going to do either of them any good. He knew the only way he was going to find peace again was to forgive the worry and sadness this man had caused his mother. But at the moment he couldn’t do that. Perhaps one day, but not now.
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve done all I can for him. It’s now time for me to move on.’
Four
Robert Hunter closed the door of the house he had called home, and fighting back the crippling sadness that threatened to tear him apart, he walked up the street. He’d loved his dad, but the man who had returned from the war had changed beyond recognition. Now Bob only felt contempt for the man who had caused his gentle mother so much pain.
‘Bob!’
Ignoring the call he kept going, his step never faltering. He had made up his mind and no one was going to turn him back. The decision had been hard because it meant leaving everything he was familiar with, and that included good friends and neighbours . . .
‘Where are you going?’ Ruth caught his arm, looking anxiously at the bundle he had tied with string and slung over his shoulder.
He shook off the restraining hand, being sharper than he should, but it was the only way he was going to hold on to his composure. He had been desperately hoping no one would see him so that he could slip away unnoticed. ‘I’m leaving,’ he said simply.
Tears filled Ruth’s eyes. ‘You don’t need to do that. Mum said you could come and live with us if you’d rather not live in the same house as your dad.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ he snapped. ‘You haven’t got enough room for me. Your house is full and she has quite enough people to look after as it is.’
‘We’d make room,’ she pleaded. ‘And you’d still be close enough to keep an eye on your dad. He needs you, Bob.’
‘No!’ He felt rotten when he saw her face crumple. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to like this. Hell, he sounded just like his old man, and that was something he must never do. ‘Your mum’s a kind woman, Ruth. You thank her for me, but I can’t stay. I’ve got to try and make something of myself.’ Bob’s mouth set in a grim line as he looked at the row of squalid houses. ‘I’m not going to end up like my old man who can’t face the world sober.’
‘He’s a troubled man—’
‘That’s no excuse. So are lots of other people.’ Bob’s voice came out in a snarl. ‘Mum would still be alive today if he’d stayed away from the drink and found a job. She was dreadfully ill, and he didn’t even notice. He can take care of himself now!’
‘We all know how bad things have been.’ Ruth touched his arm in sympathy. ‘But you’ve got friends here who will help and support you. If you leave you’ll be on your own. Where will you go? What will you do?’
‘I’ll be all right.’ He straightened up, trying to appear confident, his grey eyes hooded to hide his emotions. ‘I’m strong and can do any kind of heavy work. I’ll move around, picking up jobs where I can.’
‘Have you got any money?’ Ruth delved into her pocket and held out two pennies.
‘No, Ruth.’ He backed away. ‘I’ve got enough. I can’t take your money.’
‘I want you to have it.’ She stepped forward and thrust the coins into his large hand. ‘You can pay me back when you’re rich and famous.’
He smiled then. ‘All right, Ruthie. You’ll get it back with interest, and that’s a promise.’
‘And you make sure you bring it yourself.’
‘I will.’ Bob looked at his little friend with affection. He knew she had been doing jobs for neighbours so she could earn enough to buy herself a badly needed winter coat, but she was the kind of girl who always put other people first. ‘You’re a fine girl, Ruth, and with your dark hair and hazel eyes, you’ll be real pretty when you’ve grown a bit.’
She tipped her head to one side and made an attempt at a smile. ‘Well then, you’d better come back to find out, hadn’t you?’
On impulse he bent and kissed her cheek, slipping the coins back into her pocket without her noticing. ‘You take care of yourself, little Ruthie, and don’t settle for this kind of life. You deserve better.’ He straightened up, turned and strode away, not daring to look back.
‘Where’s Bob off to?’ Ruth’s mother asked when she went back into the house.
‘He’s left, Mum.’
Daisy Cooper stopped chopping the carrots and shook her head. ‘I was afraid of that. Did he say where he’s going?’
Ruth shook her head, near to tears. ‘I told him he could come and live with us, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said you had quite enough to do looking after us lot.’
‘He’s always been
a considerate boy, but if he really couldn’t stand living in that house any longer, we’d have made room for him.’ Daisy went back to chopping the vegetables for a nourishing soup. A few dumplings and a chunk of bread and it would fill her family up nicely. ‘But I don’t like to think of him all alone now. And God knows what’s going to happen to Alf. If he doesn’t sort himself out he’s going to end up in the workhouse. That man is a real mess, but in his own way he loves his boy.’
‘Well it’s a pity he forgot how to show it.’ Ruth’s voice wavered, still upset at losing her friend. ‘Bob tried so hard to help both his mum and his dad, and he might have stayed if he’d thought his dad cared.’
‘I know, but things are not always what they seem.’ Daisy reached out and pulled her daughter close, smiling down at her. ‘Life gets hard at times, Ruthie, trying to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. We don’t always show how much we love each other.’
Suddenly three children erupted into the scullery, yelling and fighting.
‘Stop that!’ Ruth grabbed the youngest and pulled her out of harm’s way. Sally was only three and no match for her boisterous brothers, Eddie aged ten, and John aged eight.
‘He pushed me!’ John glared at his brother. ‘He made me fall over and tear my trousers. Look.’
‘I did not! You tripped.’
‘That’s enough!’ Daisy silenced her squabbling children.
John’s bottom lip trembled as he fingered the hole on the leg of his trousers. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
Bending down, Daisy inspected the damage, and then ruffled her little son’s dark hair. ‘That’s all right, John, accidents happen. Your sister will patch it for you, won’t you, Ruth? You know how clever she is with a needle.’
‘Of course. Take them off, John, and I’ll do it now.’ Ruth smiled at her sensitive brother. ‘You won’t even be able to see where the hole was when I’ve finished.’
The worry cleared from his little face. ‘Oh, thanks, Ruthie. Eddie, can I borrow your other trousers till mine are fixed?’
‘All right. They’ll be a bit big, but we can tie a piece of string around to keep them up. Come on.’
Friends again, the boys left together and scampered up the narrow stairs.
Ruth returned to the subject of the friend she adored. ‘Bob said I should get out of here when I’m older. He doesn’t believe we should live like this.’
‘Bob’s a dreamer, Ruthie; you shouldn’t take too much notice of what he says. We were born poor. That’s our lot in life and there’s no way we can change that. You need a good education to get anywhere, and there’s no hope of that around here.’
‘But we aren’t daft, and Bob’s ever so clever.’ Ruth’s eyes shone with admiration. ‘He’ll make something of himself. You’ll see.’
‘I hope he finds the kind of future he’s looking for.’ Daisy gave a sad smile. ‘The problem with that boy is he thinks too much. He’s also too clever for his own good.’
Ruth didn’t see how anyone could be ‘too clever for their own good’, but she said nothing.
Around five o’clock they were all sitting at the scullery table having their tea of bread and jam when the door burst open and Alf Hunter tumbled in.
‘Look at this!’ he shouted, holding up a sheet of paper. ‘That bloody kid’s left me. What’s he want to go and do a daft thing like that for? Where’s he gone?’
‘Stop shouting, Alf.’ Daisy pushed the distraught man into a chair. ‘And watch your language in front of the kids.’
‘Sorry, Daisy.’ Alf wiped a shaking hand over his eyes. ‘Where’s he gone? He’s only a kid. Why’s he done this?’
Daisy looked at her neighbour and saw that he was more or less sober for a change. It was time he faced the truth. ‘He’s sixteen years old, Alf, and quite capable of looking after himself. We don’t know where he’s gone, but the why is obvious. He blames you for Helen’s death, and believes she could have lived longer if you’d stayed off the drink.’
A muffled groan came from Alf. ‘I’m not much of a man, am I, Daisy? Helen died too young, and I’ve driven my son away.’
Ruth had poured Alf a cup of tea and placed it in front of him. ‘Drink that, Mr Hunter.’
‘You’ve got to pull yourself together, Alf,’ Daisy said, watching as he gulped down the hot liquid. ‘You’re only forty, and if you’d get that drink out of you, all your strength would come back. Steve said there’s work to be found at the docks if you aren’t too fussy what you do.’
‘Won’t bring my boy back, though, will it?’
‘No. What’s done is done. We can’t change that.’ Daisy sat beside Alf and gripped his hand. ‘Bob’s looking for a better future, and you can do the same. Take this chance to change your life, then when he comes back he’ll find the father he’d loved when he was a little boy.’
Alf glanced up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. ‘Do you think he’ll come back, Daisy?’
‘Of course he will. Now, why don’t you show him you can change?’
‘Can . . . can I have another cup of tea, please?’ He raised his head, and for the first time since his return from the war, Alf Hunter had a glint of determination in his eyes.
Ruth poured another cup for him. ‘Would you like a slice of bread and jam, Mr Hunter? We’ve got enough.’
‘I’d like that. Thank you.’
‘Bob will be all right,’ Ruth told him as she cut a thick slice of bread for him. ‘He’s ever so clever. He was top of the school all the time.’
‘Yes. He’s got brains, and he certainly didn’t get them from me.’
‘Don’t put yourself down, Alf,’ Daisy scolded. ‘You ain’t so daft. It’s only the drink fuddling your mind.’
After putting a scraping of jam on the bread, Ruth handed it to Bob’s dad. ‘I gave him a bit of money I’d saved up, and he promised to return it, so he will come back. He always keeps his promise.’
‘He’ll do that for you.’ Alf reached out and patted Ruth’s hand. ‘He’s always said you’re the nicest kid around here.’
As Alf heaved himself unsteadily out of the chair, Daisy said, ‘If there’s anything we can do for you, Alf, you just let us know.’
‘That’s good of you, girl, but you’ve got enough to cope with without being burdened with a drunk. I shortened my Helen’s life and drove my son away. I’m going to make sure I don’t hurt any more people.’
Daisy caught his arm in alarm. ‘Now don’t you go doing anything stupid!’
Alf gave a wry smile. ‘Oh, I’m not thinking of doing away with myself. I don’t deserve such a merciful end. Don’t you fret, Daisy.’ Alf straightened up to his full height of just over six feet, remorse etching deep lines on his face. ‘I’ve got to sort myself out so I can show my son I can face life with courage, just like him.’
When the scullery door had closed behind Alf, Ruth looked enquiringly at her mother. ‘Do you think he can sober up, Mum?’
‘Only the Lord knows.’
‘What made him like that?’
‘The war. He was in the trenches in France and watched all his friends die. Helen said he had terrible nightmares when he came back, and he started to drink so he could sleep. The trouble was he couldn’t stop.’ Daisy sat beside her daughter. ‘The men saw terrible things during that war and their mental scars might never heal completely.’
‘Dad was all right though, wasn’t he?’ Ruth’s inquisitive mind wouldn’t let the subject drop. Her mother had warned her not to ask the men anything about the war, so she knew very little. ‘He wasn’t in France, was he?’
‘No, he was in the Navy. There was a big battle at a place called Jutland, and he was there. His ship was sunk and lots of the men died, but by some miracle he survived.’
‘Oh!’ Ruth’s mouth opened in surprise. ‘He’s never said anything about it.’
‘And I don’t think he ever will. None of the men ever talk about their experiences in the war. It’s too hard for them, and tha
t’s why I told you kids not to go asking questions.’
‘I never have.’
‘I know.’ Daisy smiled at her daughter. ‘We must keep an eye on Alf, and pray he can keep off the drink at last.’
When Ruth undressed to get ready for bed she found the money Bob had put back in her pocket. ‘Oh, Bob, why didn’t you take it?’ She was upset that he’d refused her help. ‘You’re going to need a bit of extra money, because I know you can’t have much. I wanted you to have it!’
Five
Time lost all meaning as Alfred Hunter began his struggle. He tossed through the night, moaning in pain as his body craved alcohol, incapable of doing anything but curl up on the bed in distress. At one point he must have tumbled down the stairs because he found himself frantically searching every inch of the small house looking for a drink.
With a cry of anguish he sunk to his knees and wept for the wreck he had become. No wonder his son had left him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a movement, and when he turned his head he saw a multicoloured snake climbing up the wall. When it grinned at him he screamed at it to go away. Somehow he found the strength to stand, and holding on to the table for support with one hand, he shook his fist at the ridiculous apparition. ‘You can bloody well disappear. I’m not ever going touch another drop of drink!’
His fist slammed on the wall. ‘This ends now!’
‘All right, Alf.’ Strong hands helped him into a chair. ‘Put the kettle on, Daisy. Ruth, go and get the iodine and a bandage. He’s split his knuckles.’
Alf looked up at the man giving quiet orders. ‘The bloody thing grinned at me, Steve. I’m not having that. I’ve got to beat this. My wife died and my boy’s left me. I need to know he’s all right. It’s a tough world out there; he shouldn’t be alone. I don’t care how hard it is, I’m staying off the booze!’
‘You hold on to that thought because you’re going to need it. You’ve got some rough days ahead of you, mate.’
The tears still ran down Alf’s ravaged face as he gulped the hot tea from the cup Daisy held up to his mouth. When that was empty it was refilled, and while he drank that, Ruth saw to his damaged hand.
Battles Lost and Won Page 3
