Josephine Cox - The Loner

‘How can it be right? Where will you go? How will you manage?’ When her tears fell, he wiped them away with the tip of his finger. ‘If you go now, you won’t ever come back.’

‘I won’t be gone forever,’ he answered. ‘And anyway, I’ve already said that I’ll write to you, and every day I’ll think of you.’

‘Will you, Davie? Every day? Will you really?’ Her smile brightened his world.

He laughed. ‘I will, yes! Every single day.’

‘And what will you think, Davie?’

‘What will I think?’ He wound his two arms round her and taking her to himself, he told her earnestly, ‘I’ll think of what you might be doing, and then I’ll picture you everywhere we’ve been together…climbing the oak tree down by the river or swimming in the canal, and I’ll see you about the farm, cradling the new born lambs in your arms and teasing the ferret out of its cage.’

Holding her away from him, he smiled down on her. ‘More than anything, I’ll always wonder how somebody like me ever deserved a wonderful friend like you.’

Judy had been thrilled to hear him say how he would always see her in his mind’s eye. But when he called her his ‘wonderful friend’, it was as though her bubble of joy was cruelly burst. ‘Is that what I am to you, Davie?’ she asked tremulously. ‘A friend?’

He nodded. ‘The best friend of all,’ he answered sincerely. ‘If I was to travel the world, I would never find a better friend than you, Judy.’

She hid her disappointment. She wanted to be much more than a friend to Davie. In fact, although he didn’t know it, and she was only just becoming aware of it, Judy Make peace had already given her tender young heart to Davie Adams. There was as much pain and confusion in this secret giving, as there was pleasure.

‘You’ll need to be warm,’ she told him hurriedly. ‘It gets really cold in the barn at night.’ Going to the hook on the wall, she took down a blanket and handed it to him. ‘It smells a bit horsey, but he’s only had it on his back the once… he doesn’t like wearing blankets.’

Davie took it. ‘Thanks. Now you go back to the house… go on. I’ll be fine.’

A moment later, as she was leaving, Judy whispered, ‘Get some sleep, Davie. And don’t worry – I’ll be back before my parents wake.’

She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to lie down beside him and feel his strong arms round her. Her feelings were all mixed up. She loved him for being here – but was angry with him for leaving her; most of all, she was saddened by the idea of waking up and finding him gone, and knowing she might never see him again.

Then she remembered his promise to write and to think of her, and her heart was warmed.

She got as far as the house when she wondered whether he was asleep yet. If he was intending to go right away to find work and somewhere to live, he might have to travel miles before he was settled. He needed his sleep. Oh, but what if he woke up, feeling sad and panicky, and she wasn’t there? Or what if her father went down to the barn at first light, as he sometimes did if he thought the fox was about, and Davie heard him coming and sneaked away – and she wasn’t there to say good bye? A sob rose in her throat, along with a terrible premonition of loss. The idea haunted her.

Quickly now, she ran back, and creeping into the barn, she called his name. ‘Davie?’ The lamp was out; there was no answer. She went on, deeper into the barn to where they had sat together, and in the glimmer of star light through the window she saw him, snuggled deep into the blanket, fast asleep. For a moment she watched him, as she dried her eyes.

Carefully, she got to her knees and lifting the corner of the blanket, she slid in beside him. For a moment she just lay there, not daring to touch him for fear that he might wake. Instead, she looked at his sleeping face, and a tide of contentment washed over her. She took that moment to cherish him, and then she was pushing towards him, bathing in the warmth of his body, nervous that he might wake and send her away.

He didn’t wake. Instead, in his slumbers, he must have sensed her there for he turned towards her and took her into his arms, and that’s how the two young people lay, until fingers of dawn crept through the darkness.

Davie was the first to wake. And when he found himself holding her, he was shocked to the core. ‘Judy, what are you doing here? How long have you been here…Judy?’ She stirred, stretched her arms, but didn’t wake.

Davie smiled. She was a funny little thing, he thought, his soft gaze sweeping her pretty face. She probably thought he would sneak off into the night the minute her back was turned. So she had come back…and he never even knew.

He looked at her a moment longer, at that small cute face and the long brown hair that teased over her shoulder; raising his hand, he moved a stray strand from her forehead. My lovely little Judy he thought affectionately. I’ll miss you so much.

He would miss everything, he thought – his parents and his grandfather, the sparsely furnished bedroom that on and off, had been his only real home these past few years, and the people of Derwent Street, with their familiar faces and cheery greetings.

He would miss weekends helping Tom and Judy on the milk-cart, and he would miss the long meandering walks through the local fields and woods. He would miss the joy of swimming in the canal in the heat of a summer’s afternoon, and the all too rare visits into Blackburn Town, where he and his school friends had wandered for hours amongst the brightly coloured market-stalls, clutching their saved-up pocket-money. His mam would never dig into her handbag again, he thought in sorrow, and fish out a three penny bit from her purse, or, if he was lucky, a whole shilling. She’d give him a kiss to go with it, and a peppermint cream or a Spangle. His mam’s handbag, full of bus-tickets, lipstick and tweezers and a packet of Park Drive, had such a lovely smell…For a moment, the boy was lost in memories.

Then his thoughts returned to the road ahead. Most of all, he would miss Judy, for she had not only been a friend to whom he could turn at any time, with her kind, warm nature she was also the loving, caring sister he had never had.

He spent another moment gazing at her, remembering, before reluctantly slipping out of the blanket, covering her over to keep out the cold, and finding the pen and paper she had brought him. He struck a match and lit the lamp low, and in its soft halo of light he began to write the promised letter.

Dear Grandad,

I’m going away now, and I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t belong in Blackburn any more, not after what’s happened. I don’t know where I belong – all I know is that I’ve got to get away. Please don’t worry about me. Just look after yourself, and be strong. When I’m settled, I’ll write to you.

I don’t blame you for throwing us out. Mam had caused you so much trouble, and I know you were at the end of your tether. But she’s gone now, and may God rest her soul. I shall pray for her every night. Will you tell her that, Grandad, when you visit her grave? I shall never forget her, never stop loving her. Will miss her forever.

If you hear from Dad, will you please let him know there are no hard feelings, and I hope we’ll meet again someday. I shall be searching for him, every chance I get.

I love you, Grandad, but it’s time you had your home back, and some peace and quiet. I want to find my way in the world. I’m nearly fourteen, and I don’t really know what I want to do. I’m afraid, and I’m excited. There are so many things I need to find out, and new places I want to go.

I’m nearly a man now. And I need to prove I can do it all by myself.