Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 2: The Loner, Born Bad, Three Letters

‘Mebbe somebody who didn’t know what they were doing,’ the electrican replied. ‘But I can’t see you ever being caught out. You’re a canny old devil, Eli. You always make sure you’ve switched off the engines and put all the keys in your pocket.’ That said, he walked on. Like everyone else on-site, he had no wish to stop and pass the time of day with the foreman, because if he did, it was a sure fact he’d find his wages short come Friday.

‘See that?’ Eli’s little ploy had worked as he intended. ‘It’s well-known how extra careful I am when it comes to being safe. I dare say there’d be an enquiry if old Eli was to suddenly get careless.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And once these officials start poking about where they’re not wanted, who knows what else might be uncovered?’

‘Well, I for one would have no worries,’ came the sharp reply. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

All the same, he was wary of Eli. There was no way of knowing how much he knew. But from what he was hinting, the old scoundrel knew something, that was for sure.

‘You’d better watch your back, Eli,’ he warned. ‘There are more ways than one to be rid of vermin.’

With that ominous remark, he walked away, leaving Eli in no doubt but that here was a man who would go to any lengths to suit his own dubious ends.

For the rest of the day, they kept out of each other’s way. But when the day’s work was over, and the men drifted away, Eli made straight for the washroom, where he found Davie at the sink, stripped to the waist and swilling off the grime of the day.

With his mind on other things, Davie didn’t hear him come in, and for a moment Eli stood in the doorway, waiting for Davie to finish washing, yet still scouring the walkways, in case the foreman should happen this way.

He glanced at Davie as he towelled himself, and was amazed to see how the lad had matured these past few months. Cold, hungry and bedraggled, he had arrived one morning, a mere boy of fifteen, with the look of a lost and desperate soul. The skin hung on his back, and his face had the gaunt look of an old man. And there was such pain in his dark eyes; deep-down pain which had still not altogether gone away.

Yet here he was now, his frame muscled and toned by the heavy labour he was made to do. He was capable and confident, and though he kept a discreet distance from them, he was respected by the men who worked alongside him. He was a quiet soul though.

A real loner.

Eli had always thought Davie to be a good-looking lad. At his age, with his thick shock of dark brown hair and the brooding eyes that seemed not to miss a thing, Davie should have been out on the town, or flirting with the girls and planning a future. But there was no sign of it. Moreover, he had made no friends outside of the men he worked with, and when they went off to town, Davie stayed in the caravan, reading, writing and seemingly content in his own company. Eli thought it was an odd, unnatural thing for a boy on the brink of manhood.

But then he reminded himself how he had no way of knowing what had shaped a boy like Davie.

‘Davie?’ Satisfied they were on their own, Eli made his presence known.

Surprised to learn that he wasn’t alone here, Davie swung round. ‘Oh, it’s you, Eli! I didn’t see you there.’

He quickly towelled himself dry and slipping his shirt back on, he walked across the room towards the old fella. ‘I thought everyone would have gone by now.’

‘Most of ’em have,’ Eli replied. ‘I hung back, so’s I could have a quiet word with you.’ He snatched a glance along the path. ‘Davie, there’s something I need to ask you.’

‘OK, ask away.’ Davie liked old Eli. In many ways he reminded him of his grandad.

Eli shook his head. ‘Not here, son,’ he told him. ‘Walls have ears, and besides, you never know who might come in.’

The boy was intrigued. ‘I’m going back to the caravan,’ he said. ‘We can talk there.’

‘Won’t the others be there?’

Grabbing his coat, Davie shook his head, ‘Josh and Pete are doing some overtime to get the rides ready for morning so we’ll have the place to ourselves for a few minutes.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll make you a cuppa tea, if you like?’

Eli groaned. ‘I recall the last time you made me a brew,’ he reminded Davie. ‘The cup was half-filled with the insides of the kettle. Tasted like iron it did.’

Davie laughed. ‘That’s because the kettle was worn out,’ he explained, ‘but I’ve got a new one now. And I make the best cuppa tea on site, or so I’m told.’ In his first few days here, part of his duties was to run errands and make tea. But he didn’t mind; he was glad of the work.

‘Sounds good to me.’ Eli accepted and so they set off together.

Situated at the back of the site, the caravan was small and cramped, but it was cosy enough. All the same, as they entered and Davie threw open the windows, Eli had to confess, ‘I don’t think I could share this poky hole with two burly navvies.’

He laughed aloud. ‘I dread to think what it’s like, the morning after they’ve been out on the town; unshaven, spewing up – and I know for a fact that Josh’s feet smell to high heaven.’ He shook his head. ‘How in God’s name do you put up with it?’

‘I’ve got no choice It’s either sleeping rough – and I’ve had more than enough of that – or it’s bedding down in here. The men are all right. We have an understanding. I like my own company and there are times when I don’t want to mix in with the general talk. But they understand me, and I’m grateful for that.’ Having satisfied himself that there was water in the kettle, Davie set it on the gas-ring to boil. ‘It won’t take a minute.’ He plumped up a grubby cushion and invited Eli to sit himself down. Which Eli did, albeit grudgingly; the couch was filthy and the cushion was covered in what looked like dried egg. At any rate he was glad the windows were open and the air was freshening a bit.

While Eli made himself comfortable, Davie got out two mugs, washed them thoroughly at the sink, and placed them on the drainer. ‘What did you want to ask me?’

Before Eli could answer, the whistle of the kettle sang out, and for a few minutes Davie was preoccupied making the tea. ‘There!’ Placing a mug of steaming tea in front of Eli, he sat at the other side of the minuscule table. ‘So, what is it you want, Eli?’

The older man wondered how he should put his thoughts to the boy, ‘Might as well come out with it,’ he said finally. ‘What do you know about the foreman?’

‘That’s a strange thing to say,’ Davie answered too quickly. ‘What makes you think I know any more than you do? Anyway, why do you ask?’

‘Because I don’t like how he pushes you to your limit, I can’t understand how he gets away with working you like a damned horse … labouring from six of a morning until whatever time he thinks he can keep you sweating. There’s something not right here, and I’d like to know what it is.’

Leaning forward, he looked Davie in the eye. ‘What has he got over you, son? How can he do this to you?’

For a moment, Davie fell silent, and now as he tried to speak, he was flustered and nervous, all the old fears returning. ‘Nothing. I mean … I don’t know. I’m not complaining, am I? I like the work. It keeps me out of trouble … keeps me busy. And besides, I need the money. I don’t intend slaving for someone else all my life. I’ve got plans.’

Eli was adamant but gentle. ‘Look, son, I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong. I’m just saying that the way he treats you is nothing short of cruel. Oh, I know he can be a right sadistic swine, but I’ve never known him take against anyone the way he’s taken against you. I need you to tell me the truth, Davie. And I’m not leaving this caravan till you do.’

With that he took up his mug of tea, helped himself to a biscuit, sat back on the couch and waited patiently.

Davie’s heart sank. Realising that Eli meant what he said, he decided to make his confession.

‘If I tell you something,’ he began warily, ‘will you promise that you won’t ever repeat it to anyone? And you won’t go to the boss, and cause trouble for me?’

‘I promise,’ Eli assured him. ‘Whatever you tell me, will stay with me.’

So, Davie told his story.

He described how his mother had torn the family apart, and how, when they were homeless, his grandfather put them up. ‘And not for the first time,’ he told Eli. ‘Y’see, Mam got mixed up in things … men and booze mostly. But it wasn’t her fault. She was weak – she told me that herself. Her own mam was the same, and so I suppose it was in the blood.’

The telling was a difficult thing for Davie. All this time since leaving Blackburn, he had not spoken of it to a living soul. And now, with every word he uttered, it seemed as though he was unlocking a door that he had once firmly shut.

‘The last time was the worst ever.’ He relived the scene. ‘We waited all night for her. Dad even went out looking, but he couldn’t find her. She came home in the early hours, out of her mind with booze – in a terrible state, she was. Dad was waiting and he tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen. Then he told her he was leaving, that she would never change and he couldn’t live like that any more.’

When the memories became too much and the emotion choked him to silence, Eli reached out and touched him on the shoulder. ‘Go on, son,’ he urged kindly. ‘Sometimes it’s good to get things out in the open. If you keep ’em buried deep, they’ll only drive you crazy.’

It seemed like an age before Davie got up from the table and began pacing the floor, head bent and his heart aching. ‘She tried to stop him from leaving, but he wouldn’t listen. He’d had enough. I thought he was being too cruel, but I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve come to realise how he must have felt.’

‘So your dad left, did he, son?’

‘Yes.’ Davie nodded. ‘Before he went, they had an argument on the stairs. Grandad was there … he lashed out in anger. Mam was fighting and unsteady, and then she just fell … tumbled all the way down the stairs. Dad tried to help her but she wouldn’t let him. She seemed all right though … not hurt or bleeding or anything like that.’

In his mind’s eye he could see it all happening, every small detail, hear every angry word. ‘Grandad told her to go and stay with one of her boozy friends, because he was too old and frail to put up with her any more. He wanted me to stay, but I wouldn’t. I wanted to be with her. We went to this man’s house … she thought he would put us up, but he told us to clear off, that he wanted nothing to do with her.’ Shamed, he bowed his head, and for a moment it seemed he might not go any further.

Coming back to the table, he sat down without a word. After a while, he looked up at the older man, his eyes haggard and tearful, and his heart turning over and over. ‘Mam said we should go to the church – that someone would help us there. We got as far as the woods,’ he whispered, ‘when … she …’ He dropped his gaze and composed himself. ‘She died, Eli,’ he said in a heartbreaking tone. ‘My mam died, and there was nothing I could do.’