Three Letters (25 page)

After a couple of hours’ scraping and shovelling, they had almost cleared one wall when a solid blanket of soot slid off the upper area and covered them from head to foot.

Panicking, they fled up the back stairs to the house, but when Ruth saw them through the window,
she ran out, screaming and yelling and waving the house brush at them. ‘You’re not fetching that muck in ’ere!’ she yelled angrily.

Casey remembered his daddy’s face was coal black, with two white rings round his eyes where he’d rubbed away the soot. ‘You look like a panda!’ the boy laughed, and then his dad threw a fistful of soot at him, and he threw a fistful right back, until Mam shouted
from the back door, ‘You can stay out there all night, for all I care. I mean it! If you’re not soon cleaned up, I’ll lock this door, and leave you out there to freeze!’

So, not wanting to stay out there all night in the cold, the two of them stripped off and washed under the yard tap, splashing soot and water at each other, and laughing till their sides ached.

‘Casey!’ Granddad Bob’s voice
startled him.

‘What’s wrong, Granddad?’

‘Look! There’s the bus. Quick, lad, don’t let him go off without us.’

‘I won’t!’

Casey ran on and asked the conductor to wait. ‘All right, but only for a minute or two. I can’t afford to be late.’

Puffing and panting, the old man arrived to thank him, then he helped Dolly and the boy onto the platform, and led them to the long seating at the sides.
After settling Dolly, he sat the boy between them. ‘All right, are yer, lad?’

‘Yes, Granddad, and what about you?’

‘I’m all right.’ He turned to Dolly. ‘All right, are yer, lass?’

‘Right as rain, thank you, Bob.’

‘Good.’ Though he loathed the circumstances that had brought her to his home, he felt a degree of contentment. With himself and Dolly and the boy all together, it felt like he had
been given back a little family.

He firmly believed it was true what they said: the Good Lord takes with one hand and gives with the other.

Collecting the fares, the conductor addressed the boy. ‘On a trip with the grandparents, is it?’

The boy smiled at that. He looked at Granddad Bob, with Dolly beside him, and his emotions were a mingling of sadness and pride. ‘We’re going to Henry Street.’

‘Henry Street, eh? This bus doesn’t go all the way. You’ll need to walk from Penny Street.’

Granddad Bob held out the loose change. ‘That’s all right,’ he acknowledged. ‘Penny Street will do. Besides, it’s nobbut a spit and a jump from Henry Street.’ He watched the conductor roll off the tickets from the machine round his neck. ‘Happen the short walk will do us old ’uns a world o’ good,’ he said.

As they travelled to Penny Street, all three became thoughtful, with Casey growing ever more nervous.

Bob was also troubled. Try as he might, he could not rid himself of the idea that Ruth might have actually gone back there. But then he couldn’t see how or why she would, especially as she’d handed in the keys and the house was about to be emptied of its contents.

He’d noticed how the boy was
increasingly agitated, shifting about between himself and Dolly, and constantly fidgeting. He was beginning to regret having brought the child with them.

‘Worried are you, lad?’

‘I’m not worried, Granddad.’ Casey’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’m just a bit sorry, that’s all.’

‘Aw, lad, that’s understandable. We’re all a bit sorry. But we need to be strong as well, don’t we?’

‘Mmm.’ Casey
gave a little nod, and turned to gaze out the window.

It felt so very strange, coming back here. He wished his daddy was waiting for them at the house. He needed him.

Sensing his anguish, the old man was deeply sorry he could not change things for this hurt little lad. He realised how difficult this journey must be for his grandson, having lost both his parents in different ways. Soon, the only
home he had ever known would be gone for ever.

‘Hey!’ He took hold of the boy’s hand. ‘It’ll work out all right, I promise you. Trust yer old granddad, eh?’ His face crumpled in a smile. ‘Well, are yer coming in or not?’

‘Yes, Granddad. Anyway I want to get my comics and I need to make sure the landlord doesn’t take things that don’t belong to him.’ He had not forgotten about the chairs and
the bed. Also, there were personal things belonging to his daddy.

The old man understood. ‘All right then, yer must come inside, but I’ll tek care of yer daddy’s personal things,’ he promised. ‘You just root ’em out for me, an’ then they’ll be for me to worry about. You have my word, the landlord won’t get his hands on anything that’s not his to take.’

‘I’ll get the papers for you, Granddad.
I know where they are.’

‘Good lad!’ He gave the boy’s hand a friendly little squeeze. ‘Between the two of us, we’ll have this business sorted in no time at all.’

When, at that moment, Casey glanced up, he was greatly embarrassed to see a pretty schoolgirl, with long plaits and a smiley face, looking right at him. Blushing bright pink, he quickly slid his hand away from his granddad. He didn’t
need his hand held; he was not a baby! And he didn’t want to look like a big sissy in front of that girl.

Bob and Dolly saw Casey’s embarrassment and exchanged knowing little smiles.

Soon, much to the boy’s relief, the bus shuddered to a halt, and it was time to get off.

Granddad went first, then Dolly, and then Casey. But as he left, the girl watched him go, and when he turned round, she unnerved
him with her cheeky little smile. Rushing forward to get out that much quicker, he lost his footing and tripped headlong into the conductor.

‘Whoa! Steady there, lad.’

Hoisting him up by the arms, the conductor set Casey upright, but when Granddad went to help him down onto the pavement, Casey was having none of it. ‘I can get down myself, Granddad. I’m all right!’

Feeling foolish, he couldn’t
get away from there quick enough, especially when the girl passed them by and turned to smile right at him.

All the way to Henry Street, he remained silent, his head hung down, and his eyes crinkled in a little grin. He thought the girl was very pretty, and he wondered what her name was.

‘You’re a wicked little girl, Susie.’ Having seen the chaos his niece had caused with
her lovely smile, the man teased her, ‘You’re too free and easy with that smile of yours.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She had seen the boy trip and she was really sorry. ‘It wasn’t me who made him fall down the step.’

‘Really? Well, it certainly wasn’t me.’ Tall, with kindly features, thick brown hair and dark eyes, Steve Bates was a fine-looking man. Mischievously teasing the girl now, his
smile was every bit as captivating as the one his niece had showered on Casey.

‘Poor little devil. I’m not surprised he fell down the step.’

The girl deliberately ignored him.

‘Susie?’

‘I’m not listening!’

‘All right. Please yourself.’ He knew how to deal with this little bundle of mischief. Ignore her, and she would soon come back at you.

He turned his mind to the new enterprise and his
blood raced with excitement. He had done well in the music business. Having worked his way up the ranks as a professional guitarist and folk singer, he had the ambition and now the money in place to create a recording studio of such magnificence that it would be renowned throughout the music and entertainment worlds.

He knew the pitfalls, but he also knew that this was what the music industry
needed, especially now, with new groups and solo artists bursting onto the scene. A new age was emerging; a different style. And he was determined to be a part of it.

He planned to have the best-equipped, purpose-built recording studios in the land, and his instinct and experience told him that players, composers and management from every part of the music industry would travel miles to use them.

Getting the project off the ground would be a huge financial drain on his resources, which was why he had chosen to look north, where land and manpower were relatively attainable, while land in the south was far more expensive, making it impossible to find a suitable site without his taking on potentially crippling loans.

He was not too proud to take advice from performers themselves. After all,
they would be the ones using the facilities, and he knew from his own experience that current studios left a lot to be desired. Moreover, the better ones were nearly always booked up months in advance.

Also, he knew this area. He felt confident here, having spent some time in this part of the country many years ago, when he was a struggling musician. Growing melancholy, his thoughts wandered
back to a particular time some nine years ago, and the girl he deserted.

After all this time, he suspected that, like himself, she would be long married and, unlike himself, she probably had children.

He gave a wry little smile. He recalled her to be a hot-blooded girl, whom he had not found it easy to leave behind. In fact, he would not be surprised to find she had a whole little army of children
in her trail.

A wave of sadness rippled through him, as he recalled a recent conversation he and his wife had shared; during which she had made her thoughts very clear. ‘I told you from the start I didn’t want children, and I still don’t!’

From day one she had told him that, but he’d married her because he thought he loved her, and because he hoped that one day she might love him enough to change
her mind. But she never did, and unfortunately for him, she never would.

Little by little, moment by moment, they had grown apart.

He had never forgotten the girl he’d left behind here, in the north. He had secretly kept a photograph of her hidden away in the back of his wallet. In his mind’s eye, he could see it now. They had spent the day together, and he had never been happier, not before
or since.

But life and his musical ambitions got in the way. When unexpectedly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity came along, he deserted her. He was not proud of that.

Her name was never far from his thoughts. He often wondered what might have happened if things had been different, if he’d been a little more mature, or if he had not chosen his budding career over her.

As it turned out, he’d
been right to take that first unexpected and exciting opportunity when it came up. But in putting his career before her, he now believed that he had lost something very precious; something he could never get back.

Even now, after all this time, and because the memories were still raw, he had been reluctant to return to this particular area. But he was first and foremost a musician and a businessman,
and to that end, as always he would put his career and music before anything else.

If truth be told, he still had regrets over the sudden and cruel way he had left her. But life marched on relentlessly; that was the way of things. Or so he told himself. Business-wise he had achieved what he used to think was unattainable; in his private life, however, in all honesty, he was not a contented man.

‘All right then, what were you going to say?’ The girl jolted his thoughts.

‘When?’

‘Just now, you were going to say something to me.’

‘Oh, yes, that’s right. And you said you were not listening.’

‘I’m listening now.’

‘And I’m supposed to remember what I was about to say, is that it?’

‘Yes! So, tell me.’

He knew well enough what he was about to say, but for her impudence he decided she
should be made to wait. ‘Mmm … let me see, what was it?’

‘Stop it, Uncle Steve, you know very well.’

‘Oh, do I? Well then, if I remember rightly, we were talking about the boy. I asked why you didn’t say hello. I mean, he seemed friendly enough.’

‘I didn’t say hello ’cause I didn’t want to,’ she fibbed. ‘Anyway, Mummy said I should never talk to strangers.’

‘Quite right too! And the boy might
have wanted to be friends, and then, just as you begin to make friends, he would have gone off with the old fella. Then, before you know it, you’ll be gone back to London with your mother … after the two of you have emptied all the shops in Lancashire! And all that time you spent getting to know the boy would be wasted.’

‘Why are you angry?’

‘I’m not angry.’

‘You sound angry.’

‘Well, I promise,
I’m not.’ For a moment there, he had been thinking of himself and the sweetheart he’d left behind. ‘I tell you what, Susie. When we get off this bus, the first thng we’ll do is go and get an ice cream. What d’you say?’

‘Ooh, yes! I’d like a cornet, please.’

‘OK, we’ll each have a cornet.’

Steve grew melancholy. The girl was right: he had been angry. Angry that he gave his wife everything, while
she gave him nothing. Angry that some nine years ago he had walked out on an innocent young woman who cared deeply for him.

But that was in the past, and he put the past behind him in the belief that the young woman he’d left behind was probably happily married and had forgotten all about him.

‘Uncle Steve, I don’t want to go back home. I want to stay here with you. I want to see where you’re
building your music studios.’