to one of them?’
‘I lied, son,’ she confessed. Unable to look him in the eye, she hung her head. ‘There are no friends. There’s just you and me.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘Nobody wanted to know me when I was your age.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Even at school, I always found it difficult to make friends.’
In that revealing moment, she saw herself as she really was, that quiet, lonely girl from a troubled background, the daughter of an unstable woman, and now, herself, a wife who time and again had cheated on a good man and brought trouble to her own doorstep.
‘You mustn’t blame your grandad for throwing us out,’ she told Davie. ‘You hardly knew your grandma, but she was a difficult woman.’ She shuddered as the rain predicted by the weather-forecaster began to fall. ‘Your poor grandad had a lot to put up with, all those years ago, and when he saw me going the same way as her, he couldn’t bear it.’ Shame flooded her soul. How could she have let herself follow blindly in her mother’s footsteps?
She raised her gaze and looked at her son, made to bear a heavier burden than young shoulders should ever carry. ‘I’m sorry, Davie…’ She could say no more, for now she was sobbing, all the pent-up grief of the years being released, and he was holding her, and she felt more comforted than she had ever been in her whole life.
‘It’s all right, Mam,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll take care of you now.’
Together they went along Addison Street and through the empty marketplace, and now as they cut along towards Church Lane, he asked her if she was all right. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she answered brightly. ‘You’ll see, once I’ve had a proper rest and time to sort it all out, I’ll be off again like a spring lamb, and you won’t be able to keep up with me.’ But her sight was growing dim, and the numbness was creeping up her body.
Not altogether reassured, Davie crooked his arm round her waist and pressed on, the rain soaking through their clothes and slowing down their progress.
They were entering the spinney when one of Rita’s dragging feet got caught in the bracken; as she lurched forward, Davie was taken with her, rolling down the incline and into a shallow ditch, where she made no move to get up. ‘I’m hurt,’ she gasped. ‘You’ll have to leave me, Davie. Go and get help…Hurry, Davie. Get help.’
At first he tried to lift her, to get her to safety and out of the cold and rain. But the more he tried, the harder she fought.
‘No, my lovely. Leave me be.’ She had the strangest feeling; the pain had gone and she was in another place. But her son was here, and he was frightened. She roused herself. ‘Get help, Davie,’ she repeated. ‘Quickly!’ And then she was silent and he was frantic, and as he struggled to raise her into his arms, she gave a shudder that chilled his heart. In that moment, he was mortally afraid.
Laying her gently down, he took off his coat and draped it over her. ‘Stay still, Mam,’ he sobbed. ‘I’ll run as fast as I can, and I’ll be back before you know it.’ Ducking his head against the rain, he ran up the bank, down through the spinney and out into the lane.
As he ran, a kind of dread stole over him, making him weep unashamedly. Desperate for help, he hurriedly wiped away the tears with the cuff of his shirt-sleeve. ‘Can anyone hear me? My mother’s hurt. We need help!’ Yelling at the top of his voice, he could hear the animals scuttling in fright all about him, and when, breathless, he broke through the trees, he paused to search both ways along the winding lane, but there was no one to be seen.
Taking to his heels, he began running, suddenly pausing again when he thought he heard a sound in the distance. For a minute he couldn’t make it out, but then he recognised the clippety-clop of horse’s hooves, and to his immense relief, saw the familiar milk-cart rounding the bend. ‘Tom? Tom, stop. It’s me, Davie!’
Drawing on the last of his strength, he raced towards the cart, his heart at bursting point as he prayed to God above for his mammy to be all right.
‘What the devil’s going on, lad?’ Tom drew the cart to a halt, while Davie was bent double, gasping and crying, and telling Tom how he needed help and that his mammy was badly hurt.
‘All right, I hear you.’ He patted the seat beside him. ‘Climb up here. You can tell me about it as we go.’
Dishevelled and in a state of panic, Davie wasn’t making too much sense as he clambered onto the wagon. ‘We went to the man and he told us to clear off, and there was nowhere else to go and we were making for the church…then she fell and I couldn’t get her up. Hurry, Tom. Please hurry!’
‘Calm down, lad, take it easy. We’ll see she’s all right.’ Sending the horse into a trot, the little man kept his eyes on the ruts and dips in the lane. ‘What’s happened?’ He needed to know. ‘It’s your mam you say? Last time I saw her, she was heading home, a bit the worse for wear, but fine enough. She should have been back hours ago. What in God’s name were you doing out here, the pair of you?’
But Davie wasn’t listening. He was hellbent on getting to his mother, and realising this, Tom concentrated on the way ahead. ‘How far?’
‘Here!’ Suddenly they were at the point where Davie had broken through from the woods. ‘She’s down there.’
Before the horse had slowed down, Davie was already jumping off the side of the wagon. ‘We have to get her home as soon as we can,’ he gabbled. ‘Grandad threw us out but he’ll take her back now, I know he will.’ That said, he was away and into the woods, calling Tom’s name as he went. ‘Quick, Tom, this way! She’s in here.’
From some way behind, Tom followed, his mind full of questions. How had this come to pass? Davie said his grandad had thrown them out. Dear mother of God, why would Joseph do such a thing? But then again, hadn’t it been on the cards, and wouldn’t Tom himself have been tempted to do the same thing if his daughter had turned out to be such a bad lot…giving herself to all and sundry and making a mockery of her hard-working husband. Any other man would have shown her the door long ago.
As he hurried after the boy, Tom decided that the questions would have to wait. There were more important things to attend to now. Poor Rita was hurt and she needed help. For now, that was all that mattered.
A few minutes later, his face torn by overhanging branches and his ankles sore where the thorns and bracken had proved a hindrance, Tom was shocked to see Davie’s mammy lying crumpled in a shallow ditch. ‘Step aside, lad.’ Falling to his knees beside her in the wet leaves, he took hold of her hand, taken aback by how cold she was. In the slimmest shaft of light filtering through the umbrella of trees, he saw how pale and still she lay. ‘We’d best get her out quick.’ His quiet, decisive manner gave Davie a sense of calm, and hope. But not peace of mind. Too much had happened this night. Too many bad memories would follow him, and he thought he would never again know peace of mind.
Between the two of them, they set about getting her up, and when she cried out, they stopped to give her a moment. ‘Shh now. It’s all right,’ Tom reassured her. ‘You’re safe. We’ve got you.’
All the same, it was a slow and painful operation, but at last they had her out and up on her feet, albeit unsteadily. ‘Crook your arm under hers,’ Tom instructed. ‘She’s in no fit state to take her own weight, and I can’t get the wagon down here, so we’ll have to carry her out the best we can.’
As they took her step by careful step towards the lane, she dragged her feet and murmured incoherently, and as the horse snickered, sensing something amiss, they lifted her gently onto the bench set into the back of the wagon. ‘There’s a rug under the driver’s seat. Fetch it, will you, lad?’ Tom grunted.
While Davie went to get the rug, Tom made Rita comfortable. ‘It’s no good taking