Three Letters

by Josephine Cox

  Dolly was completely taken aback. Tearfully she came forward. ‘Oh, dearie me, you’re looking for your father, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Oh, child, what are we to do, eh?’

  Raising the cuff of her sleeve she wiped away her tears. ‘Come with me, eh? Trust me. You can ask me anything you like …’ she opened her arms to him, ‘… please, child. Come home with me now, eh? I don’t mean you any harm. I only want to help you.’

  Suddenly the boy was in her arms, sobbing, clinging to her, as all the pent-up emotions poured out, ‘Where is he … where’s my dad?’ He looked up at her, his eyes big and sad. ‘They won’t tell me what’s happened, and I can’t find him.’

  Fighting back her own tears, Dolly held him tight. ‘First things first, m’darling,’ she coaxed. ‘Come on now. Let’s get you inside, in the warm. Then we’ll decide what to do … the two of us.’

  Together they walked across the street, and into that cosy little home. Closing the door behind them, Dolly held his hand as they went down the passage and into the back parlour. ‘Here we are, bonny lad!’ She looked into that sorrowful little face and her old heart ached for what he must be going through.

  Casey remained anxious. ‘Where’s my dad? I want my dad.’ Even while he asked the questions, he already knew. ‘Is it true what they said? Did my dad fall … ?’ He choked on the words, not wanting to know the truth, yet desperate to be told.

  Dolly’s heart went out to him. She didn’t really know how to tell him the truth, or even whether she should. To her mind, it was the responsibility of a close relative to break the awful news. So she answered his question with another instead. ‘What’s your name, child?’

  ‘Casey.’

  ‘Well, now, that’s a fine name, an’ no mistake.’ She kept her hold on him, loose yet definite, in case he decided to run. ‘D’you know what I think, Casey?’

  Casey shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Well, first of all, I think I should make us both a cup o’ cocoa. Then we’ll sit down together, and you can ask me any questions you like. I don’t promise to know all the answers, but I’ll do my best. So, what d’you say to that?’

  Needing to trust her, Casey gave a small, if reluctant nod.

  ‘Right then.’ Dolly was grateful. ‘That’s good. You sit in the chair by the fireside, and I’ll set about making us that cocoa.’

  She watched him go over to the fireplace, where he hoisted himself into the big old armchair. Feeling easier now that she’d managed to persuade him this far, Dolly went into the scullery and put the kettle on.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ she called out to him. ‘I’ve got shortcake biscuits, or apple pie … all home-made.’ Still nervous that he might decide to make a dash for it, she kept a wary eye on him through the adjoining door.

  Casey, though, was willing and even thankful to sit there for a while. He was cold, and hungry, and he needed to think. And anyway, she’d promised that he could ask her questions about his dad, and that she would do her best to answer them. He was starting to think that this kind lady would reassure him, and that the police had got it all wrong.

  A few moments later, Dolly came through to the back parlour. ‘Here we are, Casey. I’ve brought both biscuits and a slice of my apple pie as well. It won’t matter if you leave it, because I’m sure it won’t go to waste. Billy next door is very partial to my home-made apple pie.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘Mind you, I’d much rather you had it, because that Billy’s put on too much weight of late. I keep telling him it’s bad for his heart. But will he listen?’

  When she set the tray on the table, Casey saw the food and his stomach began quietly growling. The biscuits were thick and crumbly, and the apple pie was plump and dripping with juice. He couldn’t remember his mother ever baking anything like that.

  Not for the first time, he thought of his mother. Then he recalled the frightful scene back at the house, and he shut her from his mind. All the same, he was sorry about what happened. In truth, he blamed himself.

  ‘Come and sit at the table, child.’ Dolly set him a place. ‘There you are.’ She watched as he climbed onto the chair. ‘You just help yourself, while I pop to the front room for a minute.’

  ‘You’re not going outside, are you?’ Nervous that she might not come back, Casey began to panic.

  ‘Oh, now don’t you worry, child. I’ve just remembered I forgot to open the curtains in the front room.’ She gave a nervous little chuckle. ‘Folks’ll begin to think I’m still abed, an’ we can’t have that, can we, eh?’

  Still a little anxious, Casey shook his head.

  Dolly breathed a sigh of relief. ‘You help yourself to the cakes and biscuits, and I’ll be back before you know it.’

  When he now reached out for a biscuit, she sneaked quietly away. Once inside the front room, she softly closed the door, then quickly went to the sideboard where the big black telephone stood. It was Billy, her next-door neighbour, who had suggested that she get a telephone, ‘So you can call out if ever you need to,’ he told her.

  She now picked up the big heavy receiver and placed the earpiece to her ear. With the tip of her finger, she began dialling the police number. She still hadn’t got used to using the telephone, and was somewhat nervous.

  It rang for a moment before a very officious woman answered at the other end. ‘Blackburn Police Station. Can I help you?’

  Holding the telephone slightly away from her face, Dolly told her, ‘This is Dolly Pritchard speaking. I live in Mill Hill, and I was the woman who saw that young man fall from Mill-Hill bridge. I have his son here. He’s run away, d’you see. The poor lad is looking for his father. I, er … I mean, I don’t like to tell him what’s happened, d’you see?’ she began to stutter.

  ‘Mrs Pritchard, you say you were the one who reported the man falling from the bridge at Mill Hill? … Thank you, I have your name. Please could you tell me your full address … ?’

  Ashamed and guilty for having called the police, Dolly slammed the receiver down. This was not the right way to help the boy.

  When she returned to the back parlour, Casey was seated in the big old armchair, staring into the fire grate, but seeming not to be looking at anything in particular.

  Dolly glanced at the table, where sadly not a thing had been touched; not even the cocoa she’d made to warm him up.

  With an aching heart, she went to him and, placing her chubby hands about his face, she caused him to look up at her. ‘What are we going to do with you, eh, child?’ He looked so small and lost.

  ‘Please … will you tell me where my dad is?’

  ‘I don’t know where he is,’ she answered softly.

  ‘You saw him, though, didn’t you?’ When she gave no answer, he scrambled away from her, his voice loud and angry. ‘YOU’RE JUST LIKE THE OTHERS … YOU’RE LYING! I HEARD WHAT THE POLICEMAN TOLD MY GRANDDAD.’

  ‘What did you hear?’

  ‘You saw him, didn’t you?’

  ‘I saw a young man, yes that’s true. But I don’t know if he was your father. I don’t know what your father looked like. The young man on the bridge seemed very troubled. We spoke, and he urged me to go and look for my little dog. He’d run away, you see, and I needed to find him before he got lost. He does that sometimes, and he doesn’t like a lot of noise and fuss. Which is why Billy’s keeping him next door just now.’ Slightly panicking, she took a deep breath, ‘Your father worried me,’ she admitted.

  ‘Did my dad fall?’ Calmer now, Casey was desperate to know. ‘Did he get killed by the train?’

  ‘Like I said, I don’t even know if it was your dad at the time.’

  With heavy heart, Dolly decided she had to get the boy back to his family. ‘Let me take you home, child. Your mother will be so worried.’

  ‘I haven’t got a mother!’ The words that came out of his mouth shocked him. He did have a mother, but if she didn’t want him, then he didn’t want her.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.�
� Dolly suspected he might be lying, but that was not her business. ‘But a while ago you said that you wanted your granddad.’

  ‘I do.’ Casey was still concerned about his granddad Bob.

  ‘Of course you do, and he’s bound to worry because he doesn’t know what’s happened to you, does he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, there you are then. Your granddad will be waiting for you, looking out the window and getting himself into a state. And besides, I’m sure he’ll be able to answer all your questions, because if the police have been to see him like you said, he’ll probably know a great deal more about what happened to your daddy, than I do. Please, Casey, let me take you to him.’

  ‘Tell me, was it my dad who got killed?’

  ‘I truly don’t know,’ Dolly answered. ‘All I know is there was a young man on the bridge. He told me he was waiting for a friend and that he would be going to the station to meet him. The next thing I know, I was chastising my little dog, then I heard the train. I turned round and I saw …’ when the image rose in her mind, she took a deep, calming breath, ‘… I saw the young man fall. I did not know he was your father, and that’s the God’s honest truth.’

  Casey knew, though. He knew it in his heart and soul that his dad had been killed by that train. And now something was happening to him. He felt different from before. He wanted to cry but he found he couldn’t. He wasn’t even able to think any more. He felt confused and frightened.

  When, unexpectedly, Dolly took him gently into her chubby arms, he held onto her. He felt safe somehow, although in that moment, nothing seemed to matter any more.

  Inside him, there was a strange, sweeping coldness; as though he, too, had died.

  When she felt him trembling, Dolly held him close for a while, softly talking to him, reassuring him.

  Then he was looking at her, pleading, ‘Please! I want my granddad … I want him now, please.’

  His childish plea pierced her old heart and, as she turned away, the tears threatened. But she would not let herself cry in front of the boy. Not when he was already being so very brave.

  ‘All right, child. We’ll get you home now, shall we?’

  A short time later, they were ready to leave. ‘So, what’s your granddad’s name?’ Dolly had kept on talking, though the boy had lapsed into a deep silence.

  Casey gave no answer. Instead, he waited patiently while she locked the front door. He wanted his dad. He needed to see him, and talk with him, and play the guitar. But his mother had broken the guitar, and his dad was gone. Why did he go? Why did he leave me?

  So many questions, and no answers.

  The police car was just pulling up outside, after a message had come through from the station.

  When Dolly and Casey turned from the front door they saw the police approaching.

  ‘Don’t worry, child,’ she said, holding onto Casey. ‘They’re here to help, that’s all. I expect your granddad sent them to find you.’

  Casey was through running, and when the older officer stooped to talk with him, he offered no resistance.

  ‘It’s all right, lad, we’ve come to take you home. Your granddad’s waiting for you. He’s been worried.’

  When the officer led him to the car, Casey glanced back at Dolly, looking forlorn in her hat and coat, and the key still poised in her hand. There were tears in her eyes.

  ‘I’m not going without Dolly!’ In the short time he’d spent with her, Casey had come to trust and love her.

  ‘Mrs Pritchard, do you want to come with us?’ The officers could see how these two had formed a bond of friendship.

  Greatly relieved, Dolly returned his smile and nodded; then she looked at the boy’s childish face and smiled encouragement to him as she walked to the car, where the officer carefully helped her inside.

  To the boy the older officer said, ‘You’ve a lot to thank this lady for, my lad. We were just about to send out the search team for you.’

  He saw how the boy held out a hand to make sure Dolly was safely inside. He saw how the woman wrapped an arm about him the minute she was seated, and he was gratified to see how the boy leaned against her. And knowing what trauma the child must have suffered alone out there on the streets, the friendship between these two brought a swell of emotion to his throat.

  PART TWO

  Loving Arms

  CHAPTER FIVE

  GRANDDAD BOB WAS waiting at the window. These past hours, he had thought long and hard about what Tom had done. Slowly, he had come to see how tormented his son must have been, when learning the devastating news of his illness. He was deeply saddened, but he was also very angry.

  ‘Oh, Tom, lad … why couldn’t you have confided in your old father?’ Time and again he uttered those words. Time and again he tried to persuade himself that Tom had taken what he believed to be the best and only option. But it was bad, and so wrong, and it would take his father some long time to forgive him. But forgive him he would. When you love someone with all your heart, that precious love will endure through thick and thin, good times and bad. To the end of time, and maybe even beyond.

  Several times he’d gone to the front door and looked out, hoping to see his grandson coming down the street, and each time he’d closed the door with a heavy heart.

  In between, he’d paced up and down close to the window, and every other minute stopping to look out. But there was no sign of Casey. ‘Where are you, lad? Come ’ome to yer old granddad, eh?’ He had a yearning to wrap his arms about that little bundle of humanity. He needed to keep him safe, and talk with him about what his father had done, and why.

  He cast a sorry gaze at the other two letters lying face up on the sideboard. He wondered about the letter addressed to Ruth, and he hoped that in the harsh words that must be said, there might be a small gesture of forgiveness for the part she had played in hurting the ones who loved her.

  As for Casey, he knew every word in that letter would be like a knife to his heart; as his own letter had been to himself.

  The pain of losing a son, and in such a way, was the most unbearable thing.

  After what seemed endless pacing up and down, he saw the police car draw up at the house, and he rushed to the front door as fast as his old legs would carry him.

  When Casey climbed out of the car and ran to him, the old man clasped him so tight to his chest, the boy could hardly breathe. ‘Oh, lad! I’ve been that worried. I didn’t know where you were, or whether you’d come back to me. Oh dear God, I’m so thankful you’re home.’ The tears he’d been holding back ran freely down his face. ‘Come inside, lad; come inside with yer old granddad, eh?’

  Then the old man saw the police officer helping Dolly out of the car. ‘Who’s this, then?’ He was pleasantly surprised to see this woman, with her warm, reassuring smile and kindly manner.

  ‘She’s my friend.’ Breaking loose, Casey ran to Dolly and, taking her by the hand, he told his granddad, ‘She took care of me. Her name’s Dolly. I know the police told you … how she saw …’ he trailed off, unable to actually say it.

  Nervously, Dolly stepped forward. ‘I found Casey on the bridge,’ she explained. ‘I took him home, and we talked a lot. Then he wanted you, his granddad Bob.’ She smiled. ‘I know he’ll be safe now, and I can rest easy.’

  Behind her, the police officer stood by the open car door, waiting to take her home again. ‘Oh, no, thank you all the same,’ said Dolly, turning to him. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time. You go about your business. I’ll go back on the bus.’

  ‘Are you sure? It’s no trouble for us to run you back.’

  ‘Yes, of course. To tell you the truth, I don’t feel comfortable riding in a police car.’ She smiled again. ‘You never know what the neighbours might think.’

  Bob thought he had never seen such a lovely smile; it lit her pretty blue eyes and warmed his heart. ‘I wouldn’t even hear of you going back without a cup o’ tea and a kindly word. I’m grateful to you for looking out for my grands
on.’ He gently ushered her along. ‘Come inside, won’t you?’

  When Dolly hesitated, Casey took a firm hold of her hand. ‘I want you to come in,’ he told her. ‘I don’t want you to go yet. Please, Dolly?’

  Secretly delighted, though feeling just a little jaded after everything that had happened, Dolly gave in to his request. ‘All right then, child. Being as you’ve asked, and your granddad’s offered, I’ll stay awhile longer, only if it’s all right with your granddad. I’m not one to make a nuisance of meself.’

  She thought the boy’s granddad to be a pleasant and caring soul, although the depth of sorrow etched in his face was a pitiful thing to see. Maybe her staying on for a while might be a blessed thing for the old man. While he might not be able to open his mind to the boy, he’d perhaps feel easier talking to her.

  Unwilling to let her go, Casey led Dolly through the door, and they both followed Granddad Bob along the passageway and into the back parlour.

  The police officers drove away, their work done for now.

  Inside the house, the three were at ease in each other’s company, although recent events were not yet mentioned. But there would be time enough to talk about that.

  Before Casey could see the three letters, the old man covered them with his newspaper. ‘Right! I’ll mek us a drink and yer can talk me through everything.’ He was eager to know exactly what Dolly had seen on that bridge.

  And afterwards, he thought, it would be only right to give the boy the letter his father had left for him.

  A short time later, after Casey had finished off his glass of sarsaparilla, and his elders had drained their teacups, Dolly informed them of her fateful meeting with Tom on the bridge. She confessed how she felt guilty about not having suspected there was something wrong.

  ‘He smiled, but there was a kind of sadness in his face. It was as though, even when he spoke to me, his mind seemed far away … like he had something more important to think about.’