Three Letters (50 page)

When she made for the door, Steve dodged back.

Keeping her in sight, he watched her go down the stairs. He was nervous when she collected her car keys, coat and handbag from the hallway table, realising that if she went out now, she would see his car and know that he was inside the house. He stayed back and held his breath, reluctant
to show his hand just yet.

A moment later, he breathed a sigh of relief when, carrying her belongings, she made for the kitchen. He then heard her go out of the back door.

Quickly, he followed, but he didn’t go outside. Instead he looked out of the window and there she was, walking down the long, winding path that led to the orchard. It seemed she was approaching the gardener, who was up the
ladder, pruning back the top branches in an old apple tree.

After assuring himself that his house and car keys were in his pocket, Steve hurried out, closing the door behind him. Then he quickly started the car, taking a minute or so to take it round the cul-de-sac and park it where she would not see it.

That done, he ran back to the house, where he went inside and watched from the kitchen window.
He saw her waiting impatiently while the old gardener painstakingly climbed down the ladder.

When the two of them walked away towards the spare land at the back of the orchard, Steve saw how they went straight to the pile of twigs and shrub cuttings, which were ready to burn for fertiliser. When Connie pointed to the pyre and was apparently issuing instructions to the old gardener, Steve realised
with a sinking heart that her intention was to burn the envelope.

Too late! The old gardener struck a match and, throwing it onto the pyre, he set it alight. Connie threw the envelope into the flames, and then she turned and went out of the side gate, round to her car at the front, and was soon away.

Frantic, Steve ran down the garden, shouting and yelling for the old gardener to douse the fire.

‘It’s all right, sir,’ the old man said, ‘it’s not catching hold properly. Some o’ the branches are still wet from yesterday’s downpour.’

Greatly relieved, Steve grabbed a branch from the pile and hooked out the smouldering envelope.

While the old gardener tried to get the fire burning, Steve took the envelope back to the house, where he opened it up.

He found a letter inside. It was addressed
to him.

It was an emotional and beautiful letter, with the writer telling Steve that she was carrying his child, and that she so needed to meet up with him, so they could talk about it … that though she would be sad and concerned if he didn’t want to see her, she would try not to blame him. But that she really hoped he would want to see her.

The letter was signed ‘
Ruth
’.

Shaken by what he read,
he saw the name and his heart turned somersaults. He then dipped into the envelope again and found a photograph. What he saw took his breath away.
It was her!
Linking arms with Connie was the girl he had fallen in love with on the beach that night. He now realised that she was the same woman he had rescued from those alley thugs, and the woman he had seen going into the boarding house only yesterday.

He turned the photograph over. Written on the back were the words ‘Me and Ruth at Blackpool Pleasure Beach’.

Dazed and excited, he read the letter again. Over and over, he read those precious words: ‘I’m carrying your child.’

Slumping to the floor, he laughed out loud, then he sobbed as though his heart would break.

Saying her name over and over, he prayed she had not got rid of the child.
‘Ruth,’ he whispered lovingly, ‘I have to find you.’

Clambering to his feet, he washed his face in the kitchen sink, then he went to the phone and called three companies. In the first two, he arranged for the house locks to be changed, and the security system to be recoded.

He then rang the bank and authorised his accounts to be frozen, together with all or any transactions already going through.
Also, he blocked any attempt to remortgage the house.

Being well known to the manager, Steve confided, ‘You need to know that my finances are being compromised by my wife, and my accountant.’ He made arrangements to go straight in and sign any relevant document or authority needed to change all his account numbers.

His phone calls finished, he turned again to Ruth’s letter. Connie must have
deliberately kept the letter back, so she could worm her way into his life and push Ruth aside. She was a cold, calculating woman, capable of stealing from him everything he had worked all his life to achieve.

Thankfully he had discovered the extent of her treachery in time, and he meant for both Connie and her accomplice to get their comeuppance.

Overriding all of that was his immense joy and
excitement. On reading that letter though, his joy was tempered with regret and anger. He hardly dare even think about the possibility that he had a child somewhere.

Suddenly, his hopes were dashed.

When he’d taken Ruth back to the boarding house that night of her attack, there was neither sight nor mention of a child.

For now, though, it was enough that after all this time he had found his
Ruth.

M
ARILYN WAS CONCERNED
. ‘Are you sure you want to go and see them?’

‘Yes.’ Ruth had thought long and hard about her decision, and it was only now that she felt strong enough in herself to face Tom’s father and Casey. ‘It’s time to make my peace,’ she said, ‘if only they will let me.’ She was nervous but excited at the same time.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘Yes … and no.
The thing is, I have to try and make amends for what I did, and it’s best if I go on my own. But, I’m grateful for your offer, I really am.’

The older woman wished her well and saw her to the door. ‘God bless.’ Choked with emotion, she gave Ruth a hug, then she watched her go down the street.

It’s taken a lot of agonising for her to go and see them, she prayed. Don’t punish her anymore, Lord.

She remained long enough to see Ruth out of sight, before turning around and going back inside.

Arriving in Blackburn, Ruth got off the bus and walked along Preston New Road until she came to Addison Street, where Tom’s father lived.

The walk down to his house seemed never-ending. Eventually, she knocked on Bob Denton’s door.

She could hear footsteps coming along the passageway.
Then a large and friendly-looking woman, her pinny covered in flour, opened the door.

Ruth was nervous. ‘I’m Ruth, Bob’s daughter-in-law. I’d like to speak with him … if that’s all right?’

‘That’s fine by me,’ the woman said, ‘… only he’s not here just now. He and the boy have gone to the churchyard. Being Sunday, they allus tek flowers up to …’ Feeling uncomfortable, she paused. ‘They’ll not
be long, I don’t suppose.’

Ruth thanked her. ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’ She glanced down at the floured apron. ‘Seems I caught you in the middle of cooking.’

Sensing her discomfort, Dolly asked politely, ‘Would you like to come in and wait for them?’

‘Best not,’ Ruth graciously declined. ‘I just needed to talk with Bob … and Casey, my son.’

‘Will I tell them you were here?’ Dolly was
at a loss as to what she should do.

‘No, it’s all right. I’ll come back another time. Thank you all the same.’ Disappointed after plucking up the courage to come here, Ruth reluctantly turned away.

As she started off up the street, Dolly called after her, ‘I’ve got fresh crumpets and a lardy cake. You’re welcome to share.’

‘No, thank you all the same,’ Ruth shook her head, smiled at her, and
carried on walking.

At the top of the street she waited for the bus and quickly climbed aboard when it arrived. When no one was looking, she shed a few tears. She didn’t know if she would ever find the courage to come back here again.

In the churchyard Casey sat on the ground beside his daddy’s little garden. ‘If I talk out loud, will he hear me, Granddad?’

‘I dare say he
might.’ Bent over the vase, the old fella was arranging the fresh flowers. ‘Where’s that bottle o’ water, lad?’ He held out his hand and the boy put the bottle of water into his fist.

Reaching out, Casey tenderly stroked the small, marble headstone that marked the spot where his daddy lay. ‘I love you, Daddy,’ he whispered. ‘I love you every day, and I say a prayer for you at night. Dolly says
I might not see you on earth again, but one day I’ll see you, only we don’t know when.’

When his voice broke and he started crying, Granddad Bob took him in his arms. ‘There, there …’ He rocked him back and forth.

‘I’m sorry, Granddad.’ Sniffling, Casey wiped his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve. ‘Only, I can’t help it.’

‘I know that. There’s no shame in crying, lad,’ he told him. ‘They say
it helps to heal the heart.’

‘I’m all right now, Granddad.’

‘Are yer sure?’

‘Course I am!’ He had to be brave.

After Granddad Bob had finished with the flowers, they went inside to put their pennies in the box and light a candle.

From her hiding place, Ruth watched them, heartbroken as she remembered that good man lying there.

‘I’m sorry, Tom can you forgive me?’

Coming forward, she knelt
by his side and told of her pain and regret, and the guilt at what she had done; how if she could turn back the clock, she would treat him right.

‘I was wicked, and I know it now. I don’t ask forgiveness for that because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve the boy’s love either but, oh God! What I would give to have it all back again, with you and Casey.’

Surprising her, the old man’s voice
boomed out. ‘Yer right! You don’t deserve forgiveness. It don’t matter what yer do now, yer can’t ever make it right. You took my son, and you took this lad’s daddy, and may you never in your miserable life be forgiven!’

Ruth stood up to face him. ‘Every word you say is true. I know that now, and I’m ashamed of what I did. I’m ashamed that I hurt Tom. He didn’t deserve that.’

When she now reached
out to the boy, he slunk away behind his granddad’s back. ‘I’m so sorry, Casey, I truly am. I was bad, and I don’t know why. But I do love you so very much.’

When her words were greeted with downcast eyes, she told Bob and her son, ‘It’s too late, I understand that, and I will always be sorry … for everything.’

She looked at Casey, who was nervously peering up at her. ‘Even though neither of
you wants me, I’ll always watch from a distance. You’re my son – I know you’d rather it wasn’t true, but it is – and I want you back. But I have to abide by what you want, and if you send me away, I’ll be unhappy, but I will understand, I promise.’

When he didn’t answer, and she turned to walk away, the softest breeze got up to ruffle the boy’s hair, and in that moment, in the turmoil of his
young heart, he could hear his daddy’s tender words, written in the saddest letter:

When you’re worried … you might hear the softest rush of sound about you. It will be me, come to encourage and help you.

Suddenly he was running to Ruth, his arms wide open for her to pick him up. The old man watched in wonder as Ruth swung the boy up to her and gave him a mother’s loving kiss, while tears ran
freely down her face.

Looking over the boy’s shoulder, she smiled at Bob, and when he nodded, she hoped she might be forgiven.

The old man gazed on the headstone. He spoke in clear, warm tones. ‘It seems you’ve forgiven her, son,’ he said, ‘so it’s only right that we should do the same.’

And in that precious moment, to their amazement, a strange and wonderful thing happened.

The breeze strengthened
and, within the gnarled branches of an old beech tree, something fluttered and danced until, floating down, it landed at Ruth’s feet.

The old man looked at it, and though the paper was mangled and dirty, there was something about it that turned his heart over; something that sent him back to when he opened his own letter from Tom.

‘Look there, lass. Look down at your feet!’ he urged Ruth.

Carefully placing Casey to the ground, Ruth picked up the fluttering object, her eyes open in amazement as she recognised it as the letter Tom had written to her … the letter she had discarded. ‘It’s Tom’s letter. The day he was laid to rest I threw it away.’ The guilt was crippling.