Three Letters

by Josephine Cox

  ‘Was there anyone you could turn to?’

  ‘Only my friend, Connie.’

  ‘What about your family?’

  ‘I have no brothers or sisters, and my parents had more than enough troubles of their own, without me adding to them. Ours was a deeply unhappy home. Most of the time, it was like my parents didn’t even notice I was there. They were always at each other’s throats, and half the time I had to take care of myself. They made promises they never kept, and many a time they didn’t even come home, so I was left on my own. In the end, I stopped trusting them, but I had a good friend in Connie. She was always there for me. I owe her a lot.’

  She was made to think of the uncomfortable atmosphere at home, and was shocked to realise how she had created that very same, destructive atmosphere in her own home, with Tom and Casey.

  ‘So, you told Connie that you were with child?’

  ‘I told her everything. She was my best friend. We grew up in the same street and we went to school together; we were always best mates. As soon as I found out, I went straight to her. She said I ought to get rid of it before I was too far on. I was surprised she told me to do such a thing, especially when I still hoped I might be able to contact Steve somehow. Though I knew it would have been difficult, because we never swapped addresses, or anything like that.’

  ‘But how exactly did you tell him that you were carrying his child?’

  Ruth smiled sadly. ‘It was thanks to my friend, Connie. She wouldn’t give up, you see. She said Steve had to face up to his responsibilities. Eventually, she discovered where he was booked to play next, but the tickets were all sold. Connie said we would have to wait at the side door, and hope to catch him when the band came out after the show.

  ‘The day we were due to go, I’d been really bad with morning sickness. I felt tired and washed out, but I still wanted to face him with the truth. Connie wouldn’t have it. She said I was too ill; that I should stay at home and get some rest. And to be honest, I was in no fit state to argue. So I wrote a long letter to Steve, telling him about the baby, and Connie took it to him for me. Connie promised that if she got to speak with Steve on his own, she wouldn’t leave until he’d read my letter.’

  Ruth went on, ‘Connie didn’t get back until really late, but she told me the next morning what had happened. Apparently, she did manage to talk with Steve as he came out of the stage door. She took him aside and gave him the letter, which he read under a streetlamp. Then she explained how I was, and that I needed to see him; that things had to be sorted out.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Apparently, he went crazy. He said he did not want to know. He claimed he could not possibly be the father, because he and his mates had played cards all night long after their Blackpool show, and that he had witnesses to prove it. He said he didn’t remember Connie, and he didn’t remember me; and that if she or I ever tried to get in touch with him again, or make such scandalous accusations, we would pay for it dearly.’

  In a broken voice, she explained, ‘Connie told him he was a liar and that we would not let him get away with it. She was really angry. She said to me that he was nothing like the friendly man we’d met, and that the threats he made were very real. She wanted me to go after him and take it through the courts, but I said no. I knew I could never challenge him like that; especially when Connie told me that he had some very powerful people behind him. In the end, when I decided to leave well alone, Connie agreed. She said I was well shut of him, and I should try and get rid of the kid if it wasn’t too late. That way, there would be no responsibility for anyone, and I could get on with my life.’

  The older woman kept silent for a while, thinking. When she now spoke it was in a quiet, measured voice. ‘Well! If you ask me, she’s right in one respect; you are well shut of a man like that. But, what about the baby? You didn’t take her advice on that, did you?’

  ‘To tell the truth, when I first found out I was pregnant, I did try to get rid of the baby, but I didn’t feel right about it, and anyway it didn’t work. I never told Connie or anyone.’

  In reluctant tones, she admitted, ‘All this time, Tom had been in love with me – admiring me from afar, so to speak. I needed a husband, and quickly, and he was ready and willing. Besides, he was a good catch, with a well-paid job. In no time at all we were married and when Casey was born it was easy to pretend he was a premature baby. Tom never suspected a thing.’

  Marilyn made no comment. She was shaken by Ruth’s deliberate trickery, though it offered a glimpse of the desperation she must have felt at the time.

  Ruth’s manner softened. ‘I know it was only one night with Steve, but I had fallen so head over heels in love with him, I knew I could never love any other man. It really hurt when he sent Connie away with anger and threats.’

  ‘It’s a pity you were not able to go and see him yourself.’

  ‘I know, and I think Connie was more upset about the way he treated me than she let on. I wondered if she was tired of helping me with my troubles, because after Steve sent her packing, she was different; as though she blamed me for him threatening her … though she never said that.’

  She distinctly remembered Connie’s mood changes. ‘Whenever we talked about Steve, she would change the subject, and later I suspected why she’d been so distant with me. Apparently, she was not all that settled in her own life, though she never mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘It all came to a head some time later. I went round on the Saturday as usual – we used to go to the market and look for cheap bargains, but her mam said she wasn’t in; that she’d come home upset the night before. When Connie told them she’d been sacked from her job at Woolworths her parents blamed her for losing too much time off work. It seems there was a big row. Then, the next thing I know, she’s packed her bags and gone to London, “looking for something better”, she told her parents.’

  ‘Were you surprised at that?’

  ‘I’m not really sure, though I was surprised she didn’t tell me. We used to tell each other everything, but not this time. I know now I was wrong to let her take my letter to Steve. It wasn’t fair on her to have him threaten her because of me. I should have gone myself, no matter how ill I felt.’

  ‘But you said she offered because she was worried about you feeling poorly. You didn’t force her to go, remember that.’

  ‘But it was after her encounter with Steve that she seemed to change towards me. It was like she blamed me when he loosed his temper on her. After that, she hardly spoke to me. She didn’t even want to go out anywhere with me, and when, at first, I told her I had not given up on contacting Steve, she said that I should accept what had happened; that he’d made it clear enough that he didn’t want to know, and how if I persisted on going after him, it would only bring me grief.’

  ‘Well, maybe she was worried for you … especially, as you say, he had already made some very nasty threats.’ In spite of Ruth’s obvious affection for this particular ‘friend’, Marilyn was not altogether convinced of Connie’s loyalty.

  Ruth went on, ‘I think she really was worried about me, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever know for sure, because she’s never contacted me.’

  ‘You miss her, don’t you?’ She could see it in Ruth’s face and in her voice, whenever she talked about Connie.

  ‘Oh, yes, I miss her a lot, but I wasn’t altogether surprised at her going. Connie was always ambitious, always sure that one day she would snag herself a millionaire and live the high life.’

  Ruth recalled the last time she’d heard anything about Connie. ‘She didn’t write home for ages. Then her mam had a letter saying she was all right, and that she was doing well for herself. There was no return address, and she never contacted me, and, according to her mam, she never even mentioned me. I was really sorry about that, especially as we had known each other all our lives.’

  ‘You must have been really hurt, when she cut you out of her life like that?’ Marilyn already su
spected that Ruth was no angel, but she couldn’t help but feel a stirring of compassion for her predicament.

  Ruth fell silent; her mind heavy with hurtful memories, and bitter betrayals. Ashamed and afraid, she covered her face with her hands.

  Believing that Ruth’s tears had been a long time coming, Marilyn made no comment. Instead, she lay a comforting hand on Ruth’s shoulders, and for a time, that was how they remained; each with her own thoughts. Each needing a measure of companionship.

  After a while, Ruth looked up, the pain deeply etched in her tear-smudged eyes. In a shaky whisper she confessed, ‘When Steve denied me, and then Connie left like that, as though I meant nothing to her … that was when the badness took hold of me. I lost my trust in people, and I told myself never to care for anyone ever again, because they would always hurt me.’

  ‘That’s a very sad thing to say, Ruth.’

  ‘Yes, I know that now. But the thing is, I made myself be harder inside. I never let anyone get close to me again. And now, I’ve been wicked for so long, I don’t know how to be any different. I don’t know which way to turn, or what to do any more.’

  Anxious for this troubled young woman who had come into her life, Marilyn began to suspect that few people had ever noticed Ruth as a child growing up; few people had ever truly listened to her, or advised her, or even chastised her. Even worse, one by one, the people who might have cared for her most had callously abandoned her.

  Consequently, she had been left without boundaries, without guidance or values, and because she had never experienced real affection, she had none to give out. She had never been able to love Tom, but with Steve it was different, because in the painfully short space of time she knew him, she had given herself to him heart and soul; in a way she had never before experienced. Steve had awakened something in her, and through the love they shared, the fragile beginnings of a life was created inside her.

  Yet cruelly, for whatever reason, Steve had also abandoned her. As had her parents, and even her best friend and only confidante. So, one by one, in her heart she abandoned them in turn, and never again did she allow herself to love; not her devoted husband, nor her only child.

  It was a sad thing. Easily done, but not so easily undone.

  Marilyn had been deeply shocked at the devious and calculating manner in which Ruth had snared a fine man, and she now felt the need to remark on it. ‘I understand what you must have felt like, after being let down by everyone you trusted. But from what I understand, you had a good husband in Tom, and your boy had a good father. So, why could you not love them?’

  ‘Because I had no love to give.’ Even now, though she blamed herself for Tom having taken his own life, Ruth could find no warmth in her heart either for him, or the boy; except maybe just a tinge of regret. ‘The night we had that awful row, I said shameful things. I told Tom that he was not Casey’s father. Casey heard, and I didn’t even care because I wanted him to hear! I needed to hurt them both. To make them suffer, like I’ve suffered all these years.

  ‘I never thought Tom would take his own life,’ she cried brokenly. ‘He made sure the boy was safe with his granddad, and then he … he …’ She just couldn’t say it, and her heart was breaking at the way she had driven that good man to his death. ‘I never wanted that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry …’

  The weight of her guilt at what Tom had done was crippling, yet even so, she felt no stirrings of love for him.

  ‘Ssh, child.’ Marilyn cried with her. ‘What’s done is done, and it can never be undone.’

  Ruth lost herself in the memories of Tom and his endless patience with her; of the boy, who had the looks and soul of his true father, the man who had callously turned his back on them both.

  While Ruth sobbed, the older woman held her close, her own heart heavy with what she had learned.

  ‘Be strong,’ she whispered softly in Ruth’s ear. ‘I’ll help you, if I can,’ she promised. ‘I won’t abandon you.’

  She held Ruth until all the sorrow was spent, and then she spoke her thoughts. ‘I think you’ve bottled up all your emotions for too long, and now, maybe, just maybe, you can make a fresh start.’

  She had a proposition to help Ruth get back on her feet again. ‘As you’ve no doubt realised, I run a boarding house; though just now it’s a quiet time. But my helper left a while back, and I do have need of someone. So, if you want the work, you’re welcome to make this your home, for as long as you need.’

  She now made a confession of her own. ‘We all have something we would change, if we could. I mean, look at me. I was a bit wild myself as a young girl. I was independent and wilful, and by the age of thirty, my parents were gone, and my only sister had moved abroad. I was still single. I thought life was for having fun and doing the things you liked, without someone telling you what you should and shouldn’t do. I thought I’d rather be free, to do as I liked and go where I wanted. Only it didn’t work out the way I planned.’

  Ruth gave a whimsical smile. ‘Nothing ever does.’

  ‘That’s very true. I soon learned that having your independence, a good job and money to buy nice things and travel is all very well. Only, you soon find you’re working doubly hard to earn money enough to live your dreams, and when you find them, they aren’t really what you’d hoped they might be … if you know what I mean?’

  ‘I think I know what you mean,’ Ruth said. ‘If you don’t have anyone to share your dream, then it means nothing.’ In that moment, she was not thinking of Tom, a loyal father and husband. Instead, she was thinking of Steve, a man she had spent one night with nine years ago. A man who had turned his back on her when she needed him most.

  The older woman was still talking. ‘In my case, I left it too late to find a truly good man; a man who might light up my life, bring me love, and share my dreams. That was never going to happen, so, after a while, I was made to settle for second-best, which is OK, but not what I’d planned.’ She made a comical grimace. ‘They do say we get what we deserve.’

  Ruth understood. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t love Tom,’ she said. ‘It was always Steve I wanted, but he didn’t want me.’

  ‘Well, like I said, water under the bridge. It’s gone, and we can’t bring it back, however much we’d like to. So, if you can, you need to put all your heartache and disappointments behind you, and follow a new plan.’

  She scrambled out of her chair. ‘Right then! It’s late now, and you must be shattered. It’s time to get you settled for the night.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Ruth felt incredibly weary. ‘I think I’d like to take you up on the offer of work and a place to live. Like you said, I need a plan.’

  ‘Good, but you need to sleep on it before making rash decisions.’ Marilyn hardly knew anything about this stranger. She didn’t know what kind of person she was, and yet, in Ruth she saw a glimpse of her former self.

  Chatting all the way, she led Ruth up the stairs and into the front bedroom.

  ‘This was the previous girl’s room,’ she told her. ‘It’s a pretty little room, with its own toilet and wash facilities, and you’ll find a clean nightgown in the airing cupboard on the landing. It’s one of mine, so it’ll probably drown you, but it’ll do till we go shopping tomorrow. So! If tomorrow you still want to take up my offer of a job, this will be your room, and your wages will be four pounds a week, after board and lodgings. So, you think on it, and let me know in the morning.’

  Ruth didn’t need time to ‘think on it’.

  ‘I want the job,’ she said. ‘And I promise, I won’t let you down.’

  So it was agreed, and each went to her room reflecting on the night’s events.

  For a while, the older woman stood at her bedroom window, looking out at the night. ‘Well, Lord, you certainly tried me out when you sent me this poor, lost soul,’ she murmured to the skies. ‘By her own admittance, she’s done some bad things, but I reckon she might be worth the saving. I’ve done my best to help her, and maybe, just maybe, my off
er of work and a roof over her head might soften the hardness in her. Hopefully, it might also restore her faith in human nature.’

  She took a moment to think about Ruth, and the sorry confessions she’d made. Between us, we might discover whether she’s worth the saving, she thought. Slowly, slowly though, eh? We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?’

  Having collected the nightgown from the airing cupboard, Ruth undressed, washed at the basin, and laughed out loud when the nightgown fell about her like a tent. But it was clean and it would keep her warm.

  Marilyn Parker, you’re a big, handsome lady, Ruth thought as, collecting the excess material into her hands, she smiled towards the door. And I’m very glad I found you.

  Leaving the curtains open, she turned back the covers and climbed into bed. After sleeping rough, she found this little room to be a haven.

  On the mantelpiece a little clock loudly ticked away the minutes, the rhythmic sound soothing her mind and lulling her into a much-needed sleep.

  She was so tired. Her whole body hurt, and her heart ached with all manner of emotion. The sense of terror still lingered after her ordeal with those creatures of the night, leaving her feeling dirty, and shamed.

  It was like she had been punished for her wickedness, but if that was so, she still had a long way to go before she might feel easier with herself. If ever.

  When the men carried her away, like wolves with their prey, she feared she was about to meet her maker. That fear had shaken her to her very roots. Through the horror and the pain and the thought of worse to come, she saw herself as being no better than the creatures who had taken her.

  For the first time, she knew the depth of badness in herself. It was a cruel revelation, and one that had her climbing out of bed and pacing the floor. After a while, and calmer now, she returned to the window.

  In a whisper, she bared her soul to whoever might be listening up there, hiding behind the clouds. She spoke of her anger. Anger at her own failings. Anger at Steve, for turning her away as though she was nothing, as though the child inside her was nothing.