Josephine Cox - Three Letters

She had no real affection for Tom. He was not an exciting man, while she was a woman who positively thrived on excitement. She liked the thrill of the chase, and she enjoyed the attention of other men, even though she knew they were only after one thing – which they got in abundance, and paid for in ready cash. Steady, affable Tom hardly ever made demands on her, but that was his loss, not hers.

The thing was, she liked her men feisty, willing to take risks and grab life by the horns. Tom was not like that. He was, however, a good provider, and an excellent father to Casey, while she had no time for the brat. If it hadn’t been for Tom looking after his wellbeing, Casey would be left to his own devices.

Thankfully, Tom was always there for Casey, and the boy idolised him. They each had the same interests, in music and football, and in creative things. They had made a den in the cellar, every wall painted a different colour and every square inch of the ceiling carefully pinned with cut-out pictures of aeroplanes all heading the same way, as though in a mass exodus.

They spent precious time together down there, talking music, playing the guitar, making the cellar into a wonderland.

Whenever they tried to include her, she didn’t want to know. The one time Tom and Casey managed to persuade her down to the cellar, she ridiculed their efforts and couldn’t get out quick enough.

Ruth realised her jealousy of the happy childhood Tom was trying to provide for Casey was because of her own impoverished childhood.

Still, Tom was a good father to Casey, and when some years ago she had been in a desperate situation, Tom had unwittingly proved to be a godsend.

Thinking of Tom now, she smiled to herself. If only he knew what she was doing right now. And who with. Oh, but it would give her so much pleasure to shock him with the truth. But what if the truth damaged her more than it damaged him? Still, the thought of Tom walking in on her and Len gave her a shiver of wicked delight.

‘What are you smiling about?’ Reaching up, Len grabbed her by the buttocks and roughly drew her closer to him. Unlike Len, Tom had never been, nor ever would be, man enough for her.

‘I’m smiling at you …’ She answered, ‘at the pair of us being together like this.’

‘Hmm …’ Also aware that Tom could burst in at any minute, Len concentrated on the matter in hand, while Ruth’s devious mind inevitably strayed back to Tom.

In all the years she’d known him, Tom had never done her wrong, and she believed he never would. But if it was not for her shady sideline she felt her life would be unbearable. Even so, she was happy in the knowledge that when she grew unattractive, and the men who excited her were gone, Tom would still be there to provide for her.

Right now, though, she gave herself freely to the men who used her yet had no real feelings for her. Len in particular could take her to dizzy heights, the like of which she had never experienced with her undemanding husband.

‘Ssh! Did you hear that? It sounds like there’s somebody out there.’

‘There’s nobody out there. It’s the birds on the roof, or summat. Or it’s the kid playing games to wind yer up. Yeah, that’ll be it. If yer ask me, that lad o’ yours wants keeping in check! If ’e were mine I’d give ’im a right slap. Irritating little bastard.’

‘Hey!’ she giggled. ‘If you’re itching to slap somebody, why don’t you slap me?’ Grabbing his hand from her breast, she clamped it over her buttocks.

He liked that. ‘Yer a wicked bitch, Ruth Denton, a woman who’d sell herself for a shilling.’ He sniggered. ‘If Tom ever upped and left, I wouldn’t be surprised if you flogged the kid to the highest bidder.’

She chuckled. ‘It wouldn’t bother me to be rid of the brat,’ she confessed. ‘Come to think of it, old Foggarty might pay me more for him than he’d pay for that damned guitar!’ She gave a low, throaty cackle. ‘I’m sure the old devil would find a good use for the boy … one way or another.’ Sometimes the nastiness in her took even her by surprise.

Rolling her over, Len climbed on top, biting and caressing her neck and giving of himself in such a way that the passion became too strong for him to hold back.

Afterwards, when he rolled away from her, he told her, ‘Yer a bad example to women, you are. In times past, you’d ’ave been tarred and feathered. To tell the truth, I don’t know how poor Tom puts up with yer.’

He meant it too. Having worked alongside Tom for a good many years, he knew what a decent sort he was. He even felt a pang of guilt.

Ruth gave him a playful slap. ‘Hey! What’s all this about “poor Tom”? Forget him! All I need to know is … did you get yer money’s worth?’

His answer was to grab her about the waist and roughly draw her to him. ‘You certainly know how to please a man,’ he admitted. ‘Matter o’ fact, I might even go for another helping. What d’yer say, eh?’

‘It’ll cost yer.’ She giggled, snaking her arms round his neck.

Headed home, Tom was deep in thought, his face dampened by the drizzle and his mind alive with thoughts of what he’d decided.

It was a moment before he realised that he’d actually walked right past the bus stop. Turning to go back, he was dismayed to see the bus had already set off. ‘Dammit!’ That would put another half-hour onto the journey home.

No matter. At least he now had more time to think, and to plan. There must be no regrets, and he must make sure that the boy was safe. That, above all else, was the important thing.

When the slight rainfall became a real downpour, he quickened his steps through the town to King Street, where he saw the queue in the fish-and-chip shop. When the aroma drifted towards him, his stomach began rumbling.

I wonder if Ruth’s cooked us a meal, he thought, quickening his pace towards the lights of the chip shop. I bet she hasn’t. I bet our Casey’s not been fed … again.

Countless times he’d got home to find that Ruth was out and Casey was searching the cupboard for food. Keeping house and seeing to the boy’s welfare were never his wife’s priorities.

He ducked into the fish-and-chip shop. When his turn came, he ordered, ‘Fish and chips three times, please.’

‘Got caught out in the rain, did yer?’ The woman had a round, rosy face and a kindly voice, much like his own mother, who had died shortly before he’d married Ruth. Suddenly, Tom wondered if his mother, looking down, would be ashamed at his plans. He truly hoped not.

He forced a smile. ‘The rain’s coming down hard,’ he remarked. ‘I reckon it’ll settle in for the night now.’ He found it amazing how he could converse so casually about something and nothing, when he was intent on a deed so dark and drastic that lives would be changed for ever.

The woman dished the food into the paper bags. ‘D’yer want salt and vinegar, young man?’

‘Yeah … go on then, but not too much, eh?’

‘Have yer far to go wi’ these?’

‘Only to Henry Street.’

‘Hmm! That’s still a good long stride an’ no mistake.’ She regarded him with interest. Seeing how wet he was, and how sad he seemed, she suggested, ‘You go and sit yersel’ in that chair over by the window. I’ll put these on the fryer to keep warm, then I’ll mek yer a pot o’ tea … no charge, mind. It’s on the house.’

‘I need to get back,’ Tom explained graciously. ‘I missed my bus so I’ve had to walk, but I’m almost home now. Fifteen minutes and I’ll be in the warm. Thank you all the same.’

She was genuinely disappointed. ‘Aye, well, I expect you’re eager to get home to yer good woman, eh?’