Three Letters (26 page)

‘No, Susie, I told you before we came here, I could be up north for some weeks. It may well take that long to locate the site I need; assuming I do find one. If I can’t find a suitable site here in the north, I’ll have to look elsewhere.’

‘Uncle Steve?’

‘Yes?’

‘Mummy wanted Auntie Connie to come with us. Why did she not come? She should have, because they’re sisters,
and it’s good for sisters to spend time together.’

‘They’re not sisters, sweetheart. They’re sisters-in-law, because your daddy is my brother … It’s complicated.’

‘Well anyway, Mummy asked her and she said no, and I think that was mean, even if she is your wife. Besides, I don’t suppose Auntie Connie was doing anything else, so she could have come with us.’

‘And Mummy was disappointed, was
she?’

‘She said she wasn’t, but she was really.’

‘Well, I’m sorry about that, but I think your auntie Connie didn’t come with us because she really was too busy to come.’ His mood darkened. ‘I’m sure she would have come otherwise.’

‘Mummy told Daddy that Auntie Connie should be with you on this trip because it’s really important to you. She said you might as well not be married, because Auntie
Connie acts like she …’ screwing up her face, she tried to remember the exact words, ‘… er … like she’s footers and fancy three.’

Steve laughed out loud. ‘I think you mean footloose and fancy-free.’

‘Well, anyway, that’s what Mummy said. She was angry. She said Auntie Connie always likes to go her own way, and she doesn’t care about your music.’

Steve was not best pleased to hear that, although
he knew it was true enough. ‘Your mummy really thinks that, does she?’

‘Yes, and I think so too.’

‘I see.’

This delightful little girl was the apple of his eye, a breath of fresh air, and everything she relayed to him was not new. He was only too aware of his wife’s faults, and even his own, where this failing marriage was concerned. How could he not, after years of being married to a woman
who had little concern for others and could not see past his wallet?

‘Well then, my little know-all, if you think it must be true, who am I to argue? So, now that you’ve put the world to rights, will you kindly give it a rest and stop nagging me?’ Turning his head away he couldn’t help but give a little chuckle at the wisdom of a seven-year-old.

When, curious, the girl looked up, he made out
he was having a coughing fit.

‘Mummy says you don’t take care of yourself … always flying about and running off and playing your music.’

‘Hmm! Your mummy certainly has a lot to say, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, and I think you should listen to her because she knows best.’

Chuckling again, he gave a little shake of his head. ‘What am I gonna do with you, eh?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, what with your
mother wanting to buy out all the women’s shops in Blackburn, and you wanting me to take you everywhere I go, I wish I’d left the pair of you at home.’

‘Uncle Steve?’

‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t say that.’

‘Shouldn’t say what?’

‘You shouldn’t grumble about Mummy. And Mummy shouldn’t grumble about Auntie Connie, although Auntie Connie’s not as nice as Mummy, because sometimes she makes people fed
up with her.’

‘Oh! And don’t I know it! It was your auntie Connie who talked me into bringing the pair of you up here with me. I must be the only man who would bring along his sister-in-law, and a little chatterbox who can’t stop talking, even when I’m supposed to have my mind on business. I’m supposed to be getting the lie of the land from this bus trip, not arguing with you.’

‘It’s not kind
to say that. And anyway, you’re my uncle, and uncles should be kind to their nieces.’

‘Oh, is that so? Well, how about nieces being kind to their uncles? You haven’t once smiled at me, in the way you smiled at that boy,’ he teased. ‘You gave him the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen you give anyone.’

‘I never!’

‘Yes, you did.’

‘Hmm!’ She was done arguing.

But she thought about the boy and
how sad he looked, and she really wished she had spoken to him.

But it was too late now, because the boy had gone off with his granddad, and most likely she would never see him again.

Somehow, the thought of never seeing him again made her feel really sad, too.

As he neared Henry Street, Casey thought of his dad and the reason they were here, and he secretly felt sick with
nerves.

When they arrived at the house, Dolly noticed Casey’s reluctance to go up the two steps to the front door.

She had a suggestion. ‘Casey? What if your granddad goes in first, and you show me the place down by the water, where Granddad said you used to play … what was it called now?’ She feigned a memory loss. ‘I can’t remember the name of it …’

‘Blakewater.’

‘Oh, yes, that’s it, Blakewater.
So, do you want to show me, and maybe Granddad could make a start on listing things in the house? What d’you say?’

Casey welcomed her suggestion. ‘All right … if Granddad doesn’t mind?’

‘I don’t mind one bit.’ The old man was thankful for Dolly’s suggestion. ‘You two get along, and I’ll mek a start on sorting things out here.’

Dipping into his jacket pocket, he took out the envelope that he’d
received from the landlord, took out the house key, turned it in the lock and threw open the door.

‘We’ll not be long,’ Dolly assured him.

Casey was concerned. ‘I don’t like leaving you on your own, Granddad.’

‘Aw, don’t you worry about that, lad, ’cause I’ll not be on my own for long. Patrick Riley will be turning up in his old wagon any minute now and, knowing him, he’ll have enough gossip
to keep me busy for at least half an hour. So, if you two want to make your way back after that, it’ll work out right.’

By the time he turned away, Dolly and Casey were already making their way over the little bridge, and on, towards the narrow path that led down to the Blakewater.

Dolly was anxious that she had done the right thing in bringing him here. According to what the boy had told her,
he and his daddy had spent many a pleasant hour in this place so this was bound to be difficult for him, yet she thought he might be glad of reliving his memories. That way, in the future, whenever he felt sad or lonely, those wonderful memories would comfort and gladden him.

As they came onto the lower ground, the boy’s mind and heart were flooded with those precious memories.

He recalled how,
in the summertime, he and his daddy would sometimes wade barefoot in the water, squealing and holding hands when the pebbles hurt their feet. Other times they would just sit and quietly talk, watching the water flow and dip as it went on its busy way. That was the time Casey liked best. They talked about fishing and football, and how he was doing at school – small, seemingly unimportant things
– but to the boy, they were even more precious now, because those lovely times down here with his daddy would never happen again.

For the next half-hour, Casey and Dolly sat beside the water. For a time they remained silent. Dolly was saddened by the turn of events that had brought them here. And Casey was moved by a mingling of sorrow and love; but along with these emotions, he was filled with
a deep sense of joy at reliving the Blakewater memories, when he and his daddy had learned to know each other, man and boy; father and son.

And now, he would always have that, locked in his heart for ever.

‘I’m glad you brought me here, Dolly.’ He daren’t look up in case she saw his tears.

Dolly, however, heard the tears in his voice. Without a word, she slid her arm round his shoulders, and
when he leaned into her and sobbed as though his heart would break, she held him close until the emotions died down, and he was able to smile and eventually to confide in her.

‘In his letter my dad promised that he would be with me when I’m worried or sad. Is it true, Dolly? Can he do that?’

Dolly was honest in her reply. ‘I don’t know, Casey. None of us knows what we’re able to do once we’re
gone from this life. But tell me something, did your father ever lie to you?’

The boy shook his head. ‘No, I’m sure he never did.’

‘So you always trusted in him, is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, trust him now, Casey. Believe what he told you – that he will always be near. If it is truly possible to be with you in spirit, your daddy will find a way.’

Shyly, Casey kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’m so
happy that you and Granddad are friends.’

Dolly smiled warmly, ‘What if Granddad and I were to became
more
than friends – would that bother you?’

‘What, d’you mean … get married?’ He was not altogether surprised.

‘Well, what if it happened some day, would you mind?’

‘No, because Granddad really likes you. He said you were …’ he carefully recalled the very words, ‘… “the best thing to come
into my life since Grandma”.’

Dolly blushed a deep shade of red. ‘Did he really say that?’

‘He did, yes.’ Embarrassed, Casey turned his attention to the flow of water over the pebbles; it made a weird sort of rippling pattern in the water, much like the pattern on the backs of seashells.

Seemingly content, the two of them sat quietly for a while.

Dolly was still thinking about what Casey had
told her. She was so thrilled that Granddad Bob had confided to his grandson that he liked her, because she liked him as well. She too had been lonely since losing her own loved one, but lately she was happier than she’d been for a very long time.

Back at the house, Bob was still looking out for his old friend. I bet he’s gone the wrong way, or the engine’s packed up, and he’s
stuck in some godforsaken ginnel, he thought. Useless, that’s what he is. Useless an’ unreliable!

At that moment he heard the wagon coughing and spluttering as it bumped over the cobbles.

‘You wouldn’t believe what’s happened to me!’ With clutches of wild red hair jutting out from beneath a flat cap, and his head stuck out the window, the little Irishman brought the wagon to a juddering halt.
‘You silly old divil, Bob. You led me on a wild-goose chase, so ye did!’

‘What are you talking about? I gave you the address and you’ve got here, haven’t you – late as usual?’

‘Don’t you blame me, Bob Denton! Sure, it’s a wonder I’m here at all. I’ve been up hill and down dale looking for you. Why didn’t you tell me it was Henry Street I wanted?’

Clambering out of the wagon, he stood, hands
on hips, his flat cap askew, and a grimace on his face that was more comical than threatening. ‘I had to ask all over the place before I got it right, so I did.’

‘Patrick, yer a damned idiot.’ Standing toe to toe with his mate, the old man wagged a finger at him. ‘I said to come to Henry Street, so how did you go wrong?’

‘It were
you
that got it wrong. You told me to go to Emily Street. You
said nothing at all about Henry Street.’ Taking out a grubby hanky from his pocket, the little man blew his nose. ‘I went up an’ down and all around, and couldn’t find Emily Street nowhere. I must ’a asked a hundred people – “Do you know where Emily Street is?” I said. And they told me they had no idea. Then somebody said there was a Henry Street, and here I am. So y’see, I’m not as daft as you make
me out.’

‘All I can say is, you must be deaf as well as daft. Anyway, I thought you knew where my son lived?’

‘Don’t gimme that!’ With the back of his hand Patrick wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead. ‘How the divil am I supposed to remember where your son lives? I don’t even know where my own son lives. Since the idle bugger moved out, I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him.’

‘Forget
all that, Patrick. We’d best get started, or the landlord will be here for his pickings.’

Bob ushered him inside. ‘I hope you’ve cleared all that rubbish outta yer wagon, ’cause there’ll be quite a big load to tek down the second-hand shop.’

‘A big load, y’say?’ The little man was nervous. ‘So, how much stuff will there be, d’you reckon?’

The anxious manner in which Patrick asked the question
made the old man curious. ‘You sound worried. Why’s that, I wonder. Oh, Patrick! Don’t tell me you’ve not cleared out the back of yer wagon, like I asked?’