Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird. Josephine Cox

that’s all.’

      ‘Well, stop being silly then.’

      He stood watching until she was out of sight, then he remained there quietly for a minute or two, his hands on the balustrade. His mind wandered back to a certain day many years ago. The sadness showed on his homely face. ‘G’night, lass,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t turn the clock back, but I can help you along the way.’

      His old heart was sore. Where did the years go? Both he and Eileen were now of an age when looking forward was not a good idea. But, when all was said and done, it had to be better than looking back. Looking back was sheer torture – both for him and for that darling woman up there.

      Eileen was a good woman. She did not deserve such heartache. The doctors told Libby that her mother’s condition was not as bad as first thought, though it was bad enough, and could not be cured. They even gave her condition a name – psychosis. But Thomas knew different.

      He alone knew the real reason for Eileen’s illness. He knew why she sometimes lived in fear. He knew exactly when her condition had started. And he knew why.

      All these years, he had blamed himself. And he would go on blaming himself, until the day he was called before the Good Lord to confess his sins. Maybe then, and only then, would he find peace.

      It was Eileen that concerned him; because somewhere deep in her tortured mind, she knew it all. And she had no choice but to keep it hidden, for the sake of others. Meanwhile, the weight of it all continued to ravage her mind.

      ‘Your cocoa is ready,’ Libby called softly. ‘Let’s pinch a few of Mum’s gingernuts and dunk them, shall we?’

      Thomas sat down at the table and wrapped his big hands around his mug of cocoa.

      ‘I’ve been thinking about taking your Mum for a trip into Blackpool on the bus, but I reckon it might be too much for her,’ he said. ‘What d’you think?’

      Libby got her cocoa and sat opposite him, taking the lid off the biscuit tin. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Just now, she looked really done in, but that could be because she was late getting to bed. She does love Blackpool, though. One of her favourite things is strolling down the promenade. She says it reminds her of when she and Dad used to take me to Blackpool as a small child.’

      Her innocent comments struck deep with Thomas. ‘I remember one time, you must’a been, what . . . eight or nine months old. You’d been to Blackpool with yer Mum and Dad, and as they brought you out the car, you were holding four big, coloured balloons. Laughing out loud, you were, and waving them balloons so high in the air, I thought they’d carry you off and we’d never see you again.’

      He smiled at the memory, but then the darkness crept into his mind again, and wiped the smile away. ‘Aye, that were a long time ago,’ he finished lamely.

      Just now, while her Mum was in bed and she had Thomas to himself, she had a question for him. ‘Thomas, can I ask you something?’

      ‘O’ course! Ask away.’

      ‘What was my father like . . . really?’

      For a moment, the old man was taken aback. It seemed an age before he answered. ‘I don’t rightly know what yer mean, lass.’

      ‘I just wonder, that’s all, because I can’t remember much about him, as I was only three when he left us. I do remember Mum crying a lot, I think – and Dad yelling at her. Beyond that . . . nothing at all.’

      Thomas put her mind at rest. ‘As far as I know, yer Dad were no different from many another bloke on the street. He worked hard, and I dare say he had a bet on the football pools, and a few bevies of a Friday night, but other than that, he and yer Mum got on all right . . . as much as any married couple get on.’

      ‘Thank you.’ She was grateful for that. ‘I suppose what you remember as a small child can get a bit twisted. I mean, it would be a strange couple that never argues, wouldn’t it? And Mum obviously loved him. Otherwise she wouldn’t be sneaking out in the middle of the night trying to find him, would she?’

      Libby pondered for a moment. ‘Thomas, can I ask you something else?’

      ‘’Course yer can.’ Uncomfortable at her questions, he prepared himself.

      ‘If my Dad loved my Mum, why would he go off with some other woman?’

      Thomas explained as best he could. ‘Unfortunately, it happens, lass. Sometimes a man begins to get bored with life – especially if he works long hours, like your Dad did. So, he starts to wander, looking for a bit o’ fun to spice up his life. It doesn’t mean he’s fallen out of love with his wife. But then one day, he meets a woman who’s different from the others. She worms her way into his life. She’s never going to be happy with a two-night fling. She’s looking for someone to set up with, and once she sets her sights on a particular man, she usually gets him in the end – even if he’s married with children. Women like that are home-wreckers wi’ no conscience.’

      When she was growing up, Libby had heard the gossip about her father and other women. ‘That must have been so hard for Mum,’ she said now. ‘I don’t know how she put up with it.’

      Thomas gave a knowing smile. ‘Ah well, she put up with it because she loved him and she didn’t want to lose him. But in the end, she did lose him, and she’s never really got over it.’

      ‘Do you think she expected him to come back?’

      ‘Oh, I’m sure she did. But when someone goes like that, there’s not an awful lot can be done about it.’

      Libby’s anger bubbled over. ‘Why would he do such a terrible thing, when he had a woman at home who idolised him?’

      Thomas had no answers. ‘Aw, now, lass, yer can’t ask me that kind of a question. What can I tell yer? I just don’t know.’

      ‘Sorry. It was wrong of me to draw you in like that.’ She sipped her cocoa, and changed the subject. ‘Just now, when I went up to her, Mum was talking clear as a bell.’

      ‘I know, and it’s wonderful when she’s like that, like her old self. But as the doctor told you, there will be days when she behaves normal enough, and other times she’ll be lost . . . her mind wandering here and there.’