Three Letters (30 page)

Having no real answer, he hunched his shoulders. ‘A man just has to deal with things.’ She would never know how hard it had been, he thought sadly; but then it could not have been easy for her, when she lost her husband.

Dolly brought him to a halt. ‘Listen to me, Bob, please. I know the boy lost his daddy, but you lost a
son. You’ve had to carry the pain alone. I understand, I really do. But you’re not alone now, Bob Denton, because I’m here, and now you’ve asked me, I intend to stay.’

Taking hold of her hand, he squeezed it tight. ‘You don’t know how glad I am about that,’ he admitted.

‘So, I’ll take care of you. I’ll share your pain and take some of the weight off your shoulders.’

Her kind words brought tears
to the old man’s eyes. ‘You’re right, lass. This shocking business has rocked me to the heart,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve lost my only child, and my daughter-in-law’s tekken off to God knows where, and back there is a broken little soul, who desperately needs us both. I’ve lost an awful lot, Dolly … me and the boy both.’

‘I know that, and there’s the very reason why I want to take care of you … and
the boy.’

‘I’ll tell ye what, Dolly, lass.’

‘Go on then.’

‘How about me and the boy … taking care of you and each other? So, d’you reckon that’s a good plan?’

Smiling softly, she acknowledged his ‘plan’ with a tip of the head. ‘I’ve never known a man make so many plans,’ she admitted, ‘but I’ll tell you what, Bob Denton. I reckon that must be one of your very best.’

‘Well, thank you.’ He
believed there was a ‘plan’ for every eventuality, and right now, he dared to seal this particular plan with a little peck on Dolly’s rosy cheek. ‘It goes to show, doesn’t it, Dolly?’

‘What’s that, then?’

‘Well, how Fate can tek with one hand, then give back with the other. Y’see, you lost your husband, and now me and the boy have lost something precious as well, but because o’ that, you found
the boy, and now the three of us have been brought together. So now, I’ve got you in my life, and young Casey’s got a new and wonderful friend. D’yer see what I mean? We’ve all been hurt, and now we’re looking after each other.’

‘I know, and it’s wonderful, don’t you think?’

‘Aye, lass, it’s more than wonderful. And we do love you, me and the boy.’ He smiled coyly. ‘I don’t think you realise
how much I love you … in another way, o’ course.’ He blushed.

‘I love you too,’ she confessed shyly.

Wondering if he might take that as an invitation to walk her to his bedroom, she wagged a finger. ‘Oi! If you think that means I’m about to let you take adavantage of me, you’d best think again.’

The old man chuckled. ‘It never even crossed me mind. In fact, after all this time, I doubt if I’m
even capable o’ tekking advantage. All I meant was, I love you as a man might love his wife. I didn’t mean I was about to ravish you.’

The idea of him physically carrying her to his bedroom made him laugh out loud. ‘Chance’d be a fine thing!’

‘Aye, well. You’ll get no “chance” from me, at least not until we’re man and wife, and happen not even then.’

Wrapping her two hands about his face, she
said softly, ‘Mind you, if needs be, I’d settle for a little cuddle now and then. So, seeing as you’re fond of “plans”, what d’you think to that little plan, eh?’

He loved her all the more. ‘That’s a fine little plan,’ he said. ‘D’you know what, Dolly? Yer a woman after me own heart.’

He watched her go into her bedroom. ‘Good night, Bob.’

‘Good night, Dolly.’

As he made his way down to the
far bedroom, he smiled to himself. ‘She’s a good ’un,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Once we wed though, who’s to say it will all go as planned? As a matter o’ fact, I might have completely forgotten what I’m supposed to do. An’ even if I haven’t forgotten, me poor old parts might ’a given up anyway.’ He chuckled.

Truth was, having been without a woman these many years, the last thing he needed
was to make a fool of himself.

In bed, he lay awake for a while, thinking about Dolly, and how it would all turn out. The idea of him having a real, warm woman in his bed after all this time was really nerve-racking. Even more, the idea of his being a masterful lover struck him as hilarious.

His thoughts turned to the morrow and to Casey. He was determined that, whatever it took or however much
it cost, he would keep his promise and get the guitar mended.

‘The boy needs to be playing again,’ he reminded himself, ‘and the sooner, the better.’

That was the right and proper thing to do because, Bob knew for certain, it was what Tom would have wanted.

In his mind’s eye he pictured the boy playing the guitar, and singing to the music. When he had that guitar, and he began to sing, it was
like he drifted into a world of his own. There was something magic about him, and when he held the guitar, it was almost like a part of him. His fingers caressed the strings and the strings were made to shiver with emotion, the essence of which could silence a room full of people.

And when he sang – whether it be soul, country or slow ballad – it was almost as though he was unaware of everyone
and everything else around him. And those who heard him felt the magic, and were swept along with the mood of it.

Bob had seen the boy’s talent nurtured and blossom, and even Tom had spoken of his amazement at the way in which Casey had taken to the music.

‘He’s far more talented than I could ever be,’ Tom had once confided in his father. ‘I teach him a chord or two, and he’s away as if he’s
been playing it for ever.’

Lying in bed, in the silence of evening, Bob remembered his son’s words. And they made him wonder, not for the first time, about how young Casey had acquired such a powerful instinct for the music.

He himself loved to play, though he had not played for some time. Tom also, had shown early promise, but neither of them had ever played with the heart and soul that Casey
did. With Casey, it was in the blood. It was like a hunger or a thirst that could never be quenched.

Thinking about it now, he softly voiced his thoughts. ‘Where did yer get such musical ability, lad? Where did it come from? Lord only knows, because there’s never been anyone in the family possessed of such an instinct for the music.’

Over the years he had often wondered about that.

Tonight,
inevitably, Ruth came into his mind. Yes, he’d heard the rumours, and yes, at times he’d been suspicious, but he had mostly been angered by the gossip; preferring to see the rumours as just spiteful whisperings, spread by bitchy women with loose tongues. Now, though, having recently learned a truth or two about Tom’s wife, he was made to consider the possibilities.

After a while, a more disturbing
suspicion crept into his thoughts. All these years, whenever he’d looked at young Casey, he’d seen his own son, Tom: that same sense of fun; the same wonderful smile. He’d seen the same sincerity in his own son and in his grandson, and each of them shared the same sense of decency and goodness.

‘Yer a silly old fool, Bob Denton!’ he chided himself. ‘You need to remember, you bred a fine son in
Tom, and Tom bred a fine son in Casey. There’s nowt in this world as can change that … ever.’

With that thought warming his heart, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep; but it was not a peaceful sleep.

T
HE MEETING WAS
held in the dining room of a smart hotel in one of the quieter areas of Blackpool. It was progressing well, and as the conversation deepened, Steve was convinced that he’d made a good choice in appointing this particular land agent to oversee the purchase of a suitable site for his recording studio.

The agent outlined his plans. ‘Following your brief, I have located
three prime sites. I believe any one of them could be suited to your purpose.’

A middle-aged man of medium build and homely face, Edward Mull was an established land agent, well known and respected in the area.

‘All we need now is to sort out a time when you’re able to take a look at them.’

Steve was delighted, though he was careful not to show too much enthusiasm in case the agent thought
to increase his commission. Although, according to the contact who had introduced him to Edward Mull, the man could be trusted.

‘I was due to receive plan sets this morning only there was a delay at the other end of the chain – a simple dispatch hiccup, nothing for you to be concerned about. I will have the plans by tomorrow morning, even if I have to collect them myself. I’ve asked for current
council notes on change of use and other details: reference planning and small restrictions regarding use of premises.’ He was quick to assure his client, ‘I’ve already had a sight of the original documents and, as far as I can tell, there should be no legal reason why you can’t choose whichever site would suit your purpose.’

Though slightly irritated by the plans not being available, Steve appreciated
how these things could often get caught up in red tape.

So, how far apart are the sites exactly?’ Time was important to him. ‘If possible, I’d like to see them all in one day. That way, if they’re not right we can keep on looking. Or if I find one of them is just what I’m searching for, I can get it all tied up quickly.’

The other man drew a small map from his jacket pocket. ‘Let me show you
where we are in relation to the three sites.’ Pushing aside the used crockery, he spread the map across the table. ‘Providing we can make an early start, it should be easy enough to see all three in one day.’

Tracing with a finger from their present position, he said, ‘D’you see how they form a triangle? The first port of call will be this one.’ He pointed to a site a few miles from the centre
of Blackpool.

‘I spent some time up here in Blackpool when I was younger,’ Steve told him. ‘Me and a couple of mates did a few short tours, singing and playing music hereabouts. I remember we sometimes invited girls back to our hotel overnight.’ He smiled. ‘It was memorable, to say the least.’

‘Girls, eh? Aren’t you the lucky one – free with the girls and touring with your group into the bargain?
My father was far too strict to allow me such pleasures.’

Edward gave a weary kind of smile. ‘I was born and bred in a quiet little hamlet some way from here. My father was a vicar and my mother a school teacher. Going to Blackpool was not their idea of a day out. Oh, no! Their day out was a long train ride and four hours touring museums and walking round historic houses. Oh, I’m not saying there’s
anything wrong with that, because I learned a great deal that I wouldn’t otherwise have done. The trouble was, although it was their idea of heaven, I was never given the choice.’

‘Well, there you go then.’ Steve sensed his regret, ‘as for me the one and only time I went to a museum, I did enjoy it, though I would much rather have been playing my guitar, alongside my dad with his flute. We always
made good music together, even back then.’

A wave of nostalgia engulfed Steve. ‘He’s been gone for years, but I still have his flute. And I have the passion for music that he bred in me and nurtured. I’m immensely grateful for that. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be here talking to you now.’

‘It seems to me, Steve, that your father not only encouraged your natural musical talent, but
he left you a wonderful legacy,’ Edward said.

Steve had to smile at that. ‘The
only
legacy though! Sadly he was never good with money. He was in and out of work, and how my mother coped, I will never know. But anyway, we managed, and of course my brother and I got jobs soon-ever we could, and somehow we bumbled through.’

When the memories grew painful, he took a moment to reflect. After my father
died, Mother changed. She missed my dad so very much; as I did, although I tried hard never to cry in front of her. But then, three years later, she followed him, and I was out on the streets making my own way. My brother is older and was already running his own business by then.’

‘Oh, that must have been so hard. How old were you?’

‘Too young to be fending for myself, but I soon learned how
to take care of number one.’

‘Toughened up, did you?’

‘You could say that, yes. I survived; more than that, I enjoyed the challenge.’

Edward was impressed. ‘You’ve obviously had a hard time of it, but you appear to have come through it well. You might not believe it, but in a way I envy you. You had the freedom to make your own way in life, whereas my own early years were mapped out from the
start, whether I liked it or not. Even after my parents were gone, they still controlled me.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Both my parents were dead by the time I turned twenty-five. I was left a deal of money, but I was not allowed immediate access to the money. The solicitor would keep it in trust and oversee any purchases I made. I was ordered not to “fritter away” the legacy, but use it to “improve”
myself, in readiness for a suitable career.’

‘And how were you supposed to know what that might be?’

Edward gave a shrug. ‘The answer is, I didn’t. Anyway, at that time I was working for a reputable old firm of land agents. When the owner decided to sell up, I bought the business with my father’s money, and I’ve never looked back. In the end, it all worked out handsomely.’