Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
was ‘gasping for a cuppa’ and that she would answer all her questions when she’d been ‘fed and watered’.
Once inside, Maggie asked to be shown round the house, examining every nook and cranny, and making comments as she went. With wide, wondering eyes, she went from room to room upstairs and down. ‘Cor! Some place this is, gal,’ she remarked proudly. ‘Whatever will yer do with all this space?’
Kathy sighed. ‘Oh, I expect I’ll have to manage somehow,’ she answered with a chuckle.
‘What! Ye could get three o’ my flats in ’ere an’ no mistake!’ Maggie couldn’t believe that Kathy had been fortunate enough to be left such a beautiful place. ‘An’ you’ve got it so pretty, gal,’ she said admiringly, ‘but then you were allus good at that kinda thing.’
Kathy was glad Maggie had given her approval. It meant a lot for her friend to appreciate her home. ‘You’re staying with me for a long time, aren’t you?’ she asked hopefully.
Maggie was cagey with her answer. ‘Head for the kitchen,’ she suggested, ‘make us a brew and see if ye can’t find a piece o’ cake or summat, an’ I’ll tell you me plans.’
First settling Maggie in the sitting room with a piece of fruit cake, Kathy set about making a pot of tea, which she then carried into the sitting room along with two cups and saucers, and another helping of cake, just in case Maggie was still hungry. ‘I can make you some cheese on toast if you like?’ she offered. ‘Or there’s two eggs in the cupboard … I can fry them or poach, whichever way you like.’
Maggie was satisfied. ‘The cake will do fine, gal,’ she replied, ‘but thanks all the same.’
Thrilled to see her friend, Kathy let herself get carried away. ‘How long will you stay … a week … two? Oh, Maggie! It’s so good to have you here.’
Maggie dashed all her hopes. ‘Sorry, gal,’ she said with a grimace, ‘but it’s only a flying visit. I’ll be starting a new job in a couple of days’ time, and I need to get back. I just grabbed the opportunity to come and see you, but I can only stay the one night. Still, now that I know where you are, I’ll make it my business to get back just as soon as I can. Then, maybe I can stay a while longer, eh?’
Kathy was disappointed and it showed, but she did her best to make Maggie feel comfortable. ‘Never mind,’ she said, ‘as long as you’re here now, and yes, maybe next time we can enjoy a week or so together. Oh, Maggie! I’ve got so much to tell you.’
They sat and talked for a time, about how Kathy was settling in, and how she thought she would be happy here in West Bay, and the two of them were so obviously delighted to be in each other’s company again, even if it was for such a short time.
‘And are you going to show me what this place is like then?’ Maggie asked pointedly. ‘I’ll tell yer what I really fancy … a piping hot bag o’ fish and chips.’
‘Then you’ll not be disappointed,’ Kathy promised her.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Jasper arrived in Bletchley. Then he had a short bus-ride to Woburn, before he found himself in the prettiest village. ‘By! She certainly chose an interesting place to live.’ Impressed by the main street, which was a hive of little craft shops, tall Georgian houses all in a row, and a smattering of cafés and quaint old pubs, he took a minute to glance at the directions that Liz had sent him.
There was a little hand-drawn map. He studied it, mumbling as he read, ‘Straight up the High Street, past the Bull Inn; keep going, with the market square on your right. Then you pass the Town Hall. Cross the road to a terrace of cottages. You’ll find us at number eight … third along.’
Folding the letter into his pocket, he could see the Bull Inn from where he stood. ‘By! I could do with summat to wet me whistle,’ he muttered. But then he decided the pint of good stuff could wait. Right now, he had other priorities.
Following Liz’s directions to the letter, he eventually came to the row of cottages, as she’d described. Number eight had a pretty red door and a black lion’s-head knocker. He was about to raise the knocker when there came a shout from some way behind him. ‘JASPER!’ As he turned he was almost knocked over by a brown-haired lad, who wrapped himself round Jasper so hard that the old man could hardly breathe. ‘Oh, Jasper, you came to see us!’ Looking up, the boy was in tears. ‘I never thought you’d come. I never thought I’d see you again!’ Laughing now, he held onto Jasper as though he would never let go.
Taking the lad by the shoulders, the old man smiled down on him. ‘By! Look at you … all growed up and handsome as ever.’ Cradling his hands round the boy’s face, his voice shook with emotion. He hadn’t realised until now just how much he’d missed him. ‘What med yer think I’d not come to see you, eh? Yer shoulda known better.’
The boy looked round. ‘Have you brought my daddy?’
‘No, son, I haven’t seen your daddy.’ Now, as the boy dropped his gaze to the ground, the old man thought how like Robert he looked, and how much of a shock it would be for Kathy if ever she saw him. ‘Where’s yer mam?’
‘There!’ Quickly hiding his disappointment, the boy pointed. Jasper turned and there she was, almost on them now. Waving and smiling, she began running, with the old man’s fond gaze following her every move. Lovely as ever, with her hair plaited back, and her figure slim and elegant as before, he felt a pang of sorrow at the way she and Robert had been torn apart in such a cruel way.
Dropping her basket to the ground, she threw herself at him, holding onto him as fiercely as the boy had done, as though she was afraid he might suddenly disappear.
After a moment, she drew away. ‘You can’t know how good it is to see you,’ she murmured, and Jasper felt the same.
Holding the boy’s hand, he followed her inside. ‘You look well,’ he remarked. ‘You’ve not changed, either of yer.’ Yet they had, he thought. They seemed older, mellowed somehow, and the light of joy had gone from their eyes. He supposed that was because of Robert, and the circumstances which drove them from West Bay, a place they loved as much as he did. At his words, Liz turned, her whimsical smile betraying what was in her heart.
The cottage was warm and welcoming – like Liz herself, the old man thought. The living room was surprisingly open, with light wood furniture and a pretty Victorian fireplace, and at the far end, beyond the french doors, the garden seemed to stretch away for ever. Still alive with late-blooming plants, it was a feast for the eyes. ‘You’ve got a lovely place here,’ he told Liz, and she agreed, but, ‘It’s not home, Jasper,’ she murmured. ‘It never could be.’
‘Come and see your bedroom.’ The boy grabbed his hand. ‘I’ve made you a present.’
Liz laughed. ‘He spent all week making it,’ she explained, and Jasper said he couldn’t wait. ‘Take your case up,’ Liz suggested. ‘You might as well unpack.’
‘Lead on,’ he told the boy, who took him at a run across the room and up the stairs. When they got to the far end of the landing, he paused at one door and pointed to another. ‘That’s the bathroom,’ he said, ‘and this is your bedroom.’
Taking stock, the old man dropped his case to the floor and looked around. It was a pleasant room by any standards. There was a double bed with a cabinet alongside, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers, and on top a vase of yellow chrysanthemums. The curtains were of plain blue fabric, as was the bedspread. On the walls were pictures of boats and seascapes, and when the sun poured in through the window as it did now, the whole room was bathed in light, bringing the seascapes to life.
The boy ran to the dresser. ‘Look, Jasper! Here’s your present.’
Jasper was amazed; it was a sailing ship, all decked out, its sails unrolled to the wind, its smooth hull brightly painted. ‘By!’ He looked at the boy with admiration, and the smallest tinge of doubt. ‘Did you make that?’
He nodded.