it back to Tom, watching in the mirror as the child began to quietly look at it and read a few words to himself.
‘Judy might not be there,’ Harry muttered under his breath. ‘I didn’t want to ask about her, and Kathleen never volunteered any information.’ He hoped that was a good sign. ‘I expect she’s moved on … made a new life for herself.’
The man that Sara had moulded ached for his wife.
The boy inside the man longed for the one called Judy.
After all these years Harry could still see how heartless he had been. In spite of what had happened, he had truly loved her, back then, when he was just a youth.
Now though, he was a man with a man’s responsibilities. He had lost the woman he loved and married, and he had a child to care for. He had no right to fret about the past because right now, at this moment in time, he was only concerned with building a new life for himself and Tom. That was his priority. He had to keep reminding himself of that!
At the junction he saw the sign, and his heart lurched:
Fisher’s Hill – 2 Miles
He wondered if it would be wise to ring Kathleen and say he had changed his mind, that he was not coming back after all, but that he would keep in touch.
Then he was ashamed to himself. What’s the matter with you? he thought. So you want to turn tail and run, is that it? It wouldn’t be the first time, he admitted to himself, shamefacedly.
No! The choice was made. He had to go on. Kathleen was waiting, looking forward to seeing him and Tom. She was the only one who had stood by him, the only one who believed in him.
Thankful that Tom had drifted back to sleep, he realised how fortunate he was to have a friend like Kathleen.
Kathleen would give Tom a woman’s love and comfort, he knew. He believed that beyond a shadow of doubt, because hadn’t she done that for him? She had always been there for him. It was Kathleen who had seen him through that dreadful time with Judy, and she had never once judged him.
When his father took off with another woman and his mother turned to drink, he had felt so alone, but as always, Kathleen gave him comfort.
Some months later, drunk and violent, his father came back, pleading that he was ready to try again. That night, while Harry was out with his mates, his parents got into a fight and somehow a fire started – ‘from a lit cigarette on the bedclothes’ the investigators said.
Witnesses claimed that the fire exploded into a raging inferno. The emergency services arrived within minutes, but it was too late. ‘A tragic accident’ was the verdict.
That same night, Kathleen took him in and brought him through the nightmare of losing both his parents.
Through each and every crisis in his colourful, rebellious youth, Kathleen had been his only salvation; a tower of strength.
During the war, and his proud time of serving with the Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire Regiment, she was like a mother to him, keeping him safe, he felt, with her parcels and prayers. More than one thousand men were killed from the regiment, but Corporal, then Sergeant Harry Blake was not one of them. And now, when he had turned to her yet again, after years of deserting her and all that reminded him of his time at Fisher’s Hill, she had welcomed him with open arms.
Stronger of heart, he drove on. Tom half-opened his eyes. ‘Are we there yet, Daddy?’
‘Not yet, Tom, no. Go back to sleep if you’re tired.’ He saw how the boy was still drowsy. Since Sara was taken, neither he nor Tom had slept through the night.
Minutes later, he pulled off the main road and drove very slowly up the lane leading to Fisher’s Hill.
He had come this far and now, whatever the outcome, there was no way back.
Returning here, to the place of his youth, to his family roots, his first sweetheart and the tragedy of losing his parents, was the worst feeling. Yet coming back had always seemed inevitable, somehow. It was something he had needed to do, unfinished business, and when Sara was lost to him, turning to Kathleen seemed the most natural thing in the world.
As he drew closer, his heart was clenched like a fist, his throat so dry he could hardly swallow. He felt much like a man might feel on his way to the gallows. It was right that he should suffer, he thought cynically. A kind of penance for his sins.
One glance at the sleeping child in the back made him ashamed. It was Tom who mattered; not him.
Determined to concentrate on what lay ahead, he inched the car forward, his anxious gaze drawn towards the houses. As far as he could see, nothing had changed; every little detail was exactly as he remembered it. The brown-bricked houses were still there, strong and sturdy snuggled up side by side, with their little front walls and concrete paths, tidy well-kept gardens and net curtains at the windows; many of them twitching as folks peered through to take a look at the Hillman Minx moving at a snail’s pace up the hill.
His troubled gaze went to the house on the corner. Number 12 – there it was on the door in large brass numbers just as he remembered.
He wondered if he was being watched. Was Judy there, still living at home? Was she hiding behind the curtains, her sorry eyes trained on him in that very moment? Or had she really gone for ever, from the house, this street, and his life?
He had no way of knowing, because in the many recent telephone conversations between them, Kathleen had never once mentioned Judy, and neither had he. It was for the best, he thought.
In spite of himself, and even when he had met and married his lovely Sara, Judy had lingered, in the boy, and in the man; and the questions never went away. After he was gone, did she realise how he had had no choice but to do what he had done … for both their sakes? Or had she despised him to this day, and found contentment with someone more deserving?
‘Let it go, Harry,’ he told himself firmly. ‘It was a lifetime ago.’
But he couldn’t let it go. Against his better instincts, his quiet gaze lingered on the house. In his mind’s eye he could see himself and Judy, laughing at silly, childish things; dancing to music on the wireless or just curled up on the sofa. He pictured them both running down the path, hand-in-hand, incredibly young and blissfully happy. Then he remembered the bombshell that ruined it all. If only he’d known! But he had never even suspected. So why then, should he feel so guilty?
He closed his eyes, the memories too painful. ‘I did love you, Judy,’ he told that young girl. ‘Don’t ever doubt that.’
Braking, and putting the car into neutral, he turned to look at the sleeping child. ‘Your mammy knew what I had done,’ he whispered. ‘I told her everything, yet she took me into her life without question, accepting me as I was. She gave me a new start … taught me how to love again.’
The tears burned his eyes. ‘I’m sorry you lost her, Tom,’ he murmured. ‘So sorry.’ Leaning over, he stroked the child’s soft hair. ‘Your darling mammy was a wonderful woman and I loved her with every fibre of my being. You’ll always miss her, and so will I, but I promise you … whatever life throws at us, we’ll face it full on. You need have no worries, because I’ll always be here for you.’
He raised
