Battles Lost and Won (4 page)

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 that’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!’

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.

The next few days were just a blur, but Alf was aware of Steve and his family taking care of him. In a lucid moment he recognized just how much he owed them because the withdrawal from drink was so dreadful. He knew he would never make it without their support. Somehow he would repay them for their kindness.

Church bells woke him up early one morning, and he opened his eyes cautiously. There was nothing crawling up the walls, and he had actually slept all night. Afraid to move in case the torment returned, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the church bells. It was a lovely sound, soothing . . . Sunday. It must be Sunday. He could picture families making their way to the service. How long had it been since he’d done anything as normal as that? Too long.

He opened his eyes again and the room was bathed in sunshine. Taking a deep breath he eased himself upright and turned so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was only a slight dizziness, so gritting his teeth he stood up and made his way down the stairs. It was slow going, but he made it to the scullery without falling down. He sat at the table waiting for the trembling to ease before he moved again. Running his hand over his face he felt several days’ growth of beard. He must clean himself up.

It was nearly an hour before he felt able to haul himself upright again. He wasn’t capable of getting out the tin bath and filling it with hot water, so a wash would have to do, but that would be a start.

The task took some time, but Alf never wavered in his determination to make himself presentable.

When Daisy and Ruth came in they found Alf sitting at the scullery table, clean, shaved, wearing his Sunday suit, and drinking a cup of tea he’d made himself.

‘Oh, Alf,’ Daisy said, her face alight with pleasure. ‘You look wonderful. Go and get your dad, Ruthie.’

Steve came at a run, bursting through the scullery door with his kids right behind him. He took in the scene and smiled. ‘Well done, Alf.’

‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’ He gazed at the Cooper family crowded around the table. ‘I’m in your debt, every one of you.’

‘You don’t owe us anything.’ Steve pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Your own determination has pulled you through this far, but you know it isn’t the end, don’t you?’

Alf nodded, his mouth turned down in disgust. ‘Every day will be a struggle. I must never touch a drop of drink again. No matter how tempted I am I’ll keep off the booze, because I couldn’t go through this hell again.’

‘Good.’ Steve slapped Alf gently on the shoulder. ‘But if things ever get too bad you come to me and I’ll help you.’

‘Thanks, mate, it’ll be a comfort to know you’re there if I need you. Now, is there any news of my boy?’

‘Sorry, Alf.’ Daisy shook her head. ‘We’ve asked around and someone said they thought they’d seen him going into the railway station, but they weren’t sure. No one else has seen him.’

‘He’s left London then.’ Alf’s expression was grim. ‘But where would he go, Ruth? You know him better than most.’

‘I don’t know, Mr Hunter. All he said was that he would move around getting work where he could.’

‘We’ll keep on asking. Someone might see him. Dear Lord, I hope he’s all right.’ Alf slapped his hand on the table in anger and hauled himself upright. ‘He could be in all sorts of trouble while his drunken father struggles to come to his senses. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for this. I’m a weak fool, and good for nothing. But that’s going to change from now on.’

‘Where are you going?’ Daisy asked as Alf headed for the door.