Three Letters (44 page)

‘F
OR PITY’S SAKE
, yer like a cat on hot bricks, Casey. Come away from that window. Patrick won’t turn up any quicker with you looking out the window every two minutes!’ Though Bob, also, was impatient for the familiar sound of Patrick’s wagon rolling over the cobbles.

‘What if he doesn’t come, Granddad?’ Casey took another peek out the window. ‘What if he doesn’t have a market
stall today? What if I don’t get to play my guitar for the people?’

Granddad Bob gave a huge sigh. ‘You’ll get to play your guitar for the people, even if I’ve to sit yer on me shoulders!’

‘It won’t be the same, though, will it? Not without Patrick there.’

‘Don’t worry, Patrick will be ’ere soon enough. Meantime, be a good lad an’ fetch yer granddad’s baccy from the sideboard.’

Casey ran off
to fetch his baccy. ‘Are you sure Patrick will turn up, Granddad?’ He gave him the roll of baccy.

‘Yes, lad. He’ll not let us down, believe me.’

‘Huh! Never trust a man who sleeps in his socks!’ That was Dolly, bringing refreshments.

‘Hey!’ The old fella wagged a finger at her. ‘Yer not supposed to broadcast my personal habits like that.’

‘Why not?’ Resting the tray on the arm of the settee,
she slid the two cups of tea onto the side table. ‘It’s true, isn’t it, you do sleep with your socks on, or you did, until I told you it weren’t the civilised thing to do. At least, not for a particular man like yourself.’

She handed Casey a glass of fresh orange juice, while rolling her eyes in frustration as the old fella complained, ‘It might be civilised, an’ it might not, but it’s certainly
not the sort o’ thing to bandy about, is it?’ Feeling shame-faced in front of a woman was a whole new experience for him.

‘Why not?’ Dolly had learned how to tease him. ‘If you reckon it’s perfectly acceptable to sleep with your socks on, where’s the harm in admitting it?’

‘Well, I don’t know for sure, but it doesn’t feel right, that’s what I’m saying. I mean … a thing like that is one’s own
personal business, not for broadcasting to all an’ sundry.’

‘It’s all right, Granddad,’ Casey assured him, ‘I already knew.’ He glanced up at Dolly. ‘He never used to take his socks off
ever
. Until you came to live with us.’

He now relayed a certain scene that he’d overheard between his father and his granddad. ‘When Granddad’s socks got really smelly, Dad used to tell him off. One day they
had a little argument, and Daddy told him if he didn’t wash his socks, his feet would rot …’ he had to think hard to recall the exact words, ‘… right through to the bone. That’s what he said.’

‘Well, thank you, Casey.’ Blushing a bright shade of pink, Granddad Bob pretended to read his newspaper. ‘I’m sure Dolly needed to know that.’

Feeling a little sorry for him, Dolly still could not resist
making the comment, ‘Ah! So, now we have the sordid truth. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.’

Impatient, the old fella tried to explain the incident. ‘It were not an argument, as such, ’cause me an’ our Tom never argued. It were a little exchange of words, that’s all. Anyway, the pair of ’em turned up an hour earlier than they should ’ave. I were late outta me bed, and just tekking off
my socks when in they came, large as life …’ Before Casey could open his mouth, he gave him a warning glance. ‘Like I say, it were summat and nowt,’ he grumbled. ‘It were never an argument.’

In his own defence, Casey concluded the tale. ‘Granddad were just taking his socks off when we came in. Daddy told him they stank the house out, and Granddad pulled a face. Then on the way home, Daddy said
he was sorry he’d said anything, because Granddad got all uppity.’ He thought for a minute, then: ‘Granddad, what does “uppity” mean?’

Granddad Bob stuck to his own version. ‘Listen to me, lad! You’ve got it all wrong. Yer daddy were just winding me up. Yer know very well, ’e were allus one for winding me up.’ He lowered his voice until it was barely audible. ‘If I could turn back the clock right
now, I’d let him wind me up till the cows came ’ome.’ Tom was never far from his thoughts.

The mood in the room changed. Granddad Bob was horrified when he saw Casey’s sorry little face. ‘Aw, I’m sorry, lad. Come ’ere to yer granddad, eh?’ He opened his arms for the boy to come to him, and when he ran into his fierce embrace, the two of them clung together.

Across the room, Dolly was deeply
saddened at the sight of these two dear people, whom she had come to love like her very own.

A moment or so later, the atmosphere was charged with excitement when Casey glanced up at the window. ‘He’s here, Granddad!’ He started leaping up and down. ‘Look! Patrick’s here!’

And sure enough, the battered old wagon was rolling up to the front door, clanging and banging, and sounding for all the
world like it would fall apart at any minute. ‘Looks like it’s about to conk out,’ the old fella moaned. ‘I expect the silly old devil’s overloaded it.’

‘I heard that!’ Having parked the wagon half on the pavement and half on the cobbled street, Patrick came lolloping up the path.

Granddad Bob started yelling at him from the door, ‘If yer expect me to unload a pile o’ junk when we get to market,
you’ve another thought coming. I’ve been conned once too often to fall for that little trick. And that’s that!’

‘Ah, will ye shurrup, yer silly ol’ divil!’ Patrick was not in the best of moods. ‘Whether ye loike it or not, this wagon has to be unloaded, an’ so far as I can see, you an’ me are the only two men ’ere. Am I roight … or am I roight?’

When Granddad Bob made no comment, Patrick tried
another way. ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ He gave Casey a helpless look. ‘If your granddad won’t help me, there’ll be no market stall today, an’ if there’s no market stall, there’ll be no guitar-playing and no singing. Don’t blame me, boy. The thing is, I’ve got a bad back, an’ there’s no way I can unload that wagon by myself.’

‘Oh, ’ere we go again!’ The old fella had to smile at the other one’s antics.
‘All right, we can’t have you being carted off to hospital with a bad back, can we now?’

‘So you’ll help me?’

Granddad Bob was well aware that Patrick was putting it on. In fact, they had the same rigmorole every time they went to market; Patrick would assume that his old friend might not want to help unload, and so he’d pretend he had a bad back. ‘You’re a wily old bugger, Patrick, and for
the life o’ me, I don’t know why you start up with this bad back soonever we arrive at market. I’ve always helped you unload, and yet you keep up this pretence. Shame on yer.’

He started back into the house. ‘I’ll not be a minute. Oh, an’ don’t start without me.’ As if Patrick ever would.

Still chuckling, he took the boy back inside to say cheerio to Dolly, who intended meeting up with them
later. He tutted while he was putting on his jacket, and he tutted as he marched out with the boy in one hand, and the guitar in the other. ‘That Patrick … what will I do with him, eh?’ He laughed out loud. ‘He likes the attention, that’s what it is.

‘’Ere, lad. You’d best hold on tight to this.’ Handing the guitar to Casey, Bob settled him into the passenger seat before climbing up beside him.
‘This old wagon is about to shiver an’ shake all over the place,’ he warned the boy, ‘’cause Patrick is sure to be driving through every pothole that was ever created.’

Casey hugged his precious guitar close, and when Patrick returned from checking his load, Casey asked him worriedly, ‘You won’t, will you, Patrick?’

‘What’s that, m’boy?’ When he was expecting trouble, Patrick had a habit of
tucking his chin into his neck, and looking up through the top of his eyes; and that’s exactly what he did now. ‘Is the old idjet making trouble again?’

Casey related his granddad’s warning, ‘I’m frightened my daddy’s guitar might get broken.’

Patrick leaned towards the boy, a smile on his artful old face. ‘You tell your granddad from me, I do not drive through potholes, nor do I make the wagon
shiver and shake. Trust me, I’d cut off my right arm, before I would ever put your daddy’s guitar at risk. You have my word on it.’

Casey was greatly relieved. ‘Thank you, Patrick.’

Leaning forward, Patrick gave his friend a shrivelling glance, while addressing his comments to the boy. ‘Ye must not listen to this rambling ol’ divil. Sure he’s only jealous, ’cause unlike me, he’s not got a grand
wagon, nor a market stall. An’ that’s what niggles him.’

His comment set the old fella chortling; making the other two laugh along with him, and though the teasing went on, the mood remained very jolly.

‘D’yer know what we are?’ the old fella asked proudly.

‘No,’ Patrick was ready for the off, ‘though I’m sure you’ll tell me.’

Bob stuck out a proud chest. ‘The Three Musketeers, that’s what
we are! We’re on a very important mission, with a special guitar that was in pieces, and now it’s like new again. Moreover, I’m here with my grandson and my best friend in the whole world; even though he can be a crotchety old bugger when he likes. So, when push comes to shove and the whole world seems agin’ us, we’ve still got each other.’ Sliding an arm round Casey’s shoulders, he felt good. ‘What
else could a man ask for, eh?’ As always, Tom was strong in his mind.

For a while, the mood in the wagon was a merry one; until out of nowhere, a stray football came smashing into the windscreen, ‘What the divil … !’ Patrick shook his fist at the young culprits in the street. ‘Ye little monsters, clear off … unless ye want yer arses kicking, the lot o’ ye!’

‘It’s you that wants his arse kicking,
old man!’ came the insolent reply. ‘And if you ask me, that rattling old bag o’ bones wants dumping in the scrapyard!’

‘Hey, mind your tongue!’ Trying hard to keep a straight face, Patrick wagged a finger. ‘Don’t you dare insult my friend Bob like that!’

‘Enough o’ that!’ Bob was not amused. ‘The lad didn’t mean me. They meant this rusty ol’ wagon. And besides,
my
bones don’t rattle.’

‘I don’t
suppose they do,’ Patrick winked at the boy. ‘There’s too much fat round ’em, that’s why.’

The boys ran off with their football, while the two men continued their light-hearted bickering.

Until Casey felt obliged to warn his granddad Bob, ‘If you don’t stop arguing, I’ll tell Dolly. She’ll give you what for.’

His childish warning shocked them into silence, but it didn’t last long. ‘Sounds to
me like she has your granddad well under control,’ Patrick said. ‘Huh! And this is the man who swore he would never be tamed.’

‘Hark at the kettle calling the pan black.’ Addressing his grandson, Bob had a twinkle in his eye. ‘I’ll have you know, young man, there’s not a woman on this earth that can tell me and Patrick what to do.’ In a whisper, and with a sly little wink to the boy, he added
cautiously, ‘Mind you, it might not be wise to tell her I said that.’

Along the journey, the two old fellas teased and tormented each other, until Patrick decided to entertain them with tales of his many hilarious escapades.

Consequently, the cab was soon rocking with laughter, all the way to market.

‘Uncle Steve’s not coming, is he, Mummy?’ Having eaten two home-made chocolate
fancies, and downed a glass of sarsaparilla, Susie was growing increasingly anxious.

‘Stop fidgeting, Susie, he’ll be here soon.’ Alice was also wondering how much longer Steve might be.

‘Can I go outside and look?’

‘You’ve been in and out like a yo-yo,’ Alice reminded her. ‘It won’t make him get here any quicker.’

‘Aw, please, Mummy?’

‘Go on then, but promise you’ll stay where I can see
you.’

‘I promise.’

Susie then went outside to continue pacing up and down. She walked along the street as far as she was allowed, constantly stretching her neck, hoping to catch sight of her uncle’s familiar figure.

A few minutes later, while Alice was on her third cup of tea, Susie slouched back inside. ‘He’s not coming. He’s forgotten.’ She was close to tears.

‘Aw, my little Susie, would
I ever do that to you?’ From behind her, Steve’s voice rang out.

‘Uncle Steve!’ Laughing excitedly, she ran to him. ‘Where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting ages for you.’

Swinging her into his arms, he gave her a kiss, then he sat her down. ‘I promise you, I got here as soon as I could.’

Wearied by the long morning and the many, frustrating discussions, he drew out a chair and dropped himself
in it with a sigh of relief.

Alice could see how weary he was, so she didn’t ask any questions, but one: ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

‘After the ordeal I’ve just had, I certainly wouldn’t say no, that’s for sure.’

‘Are you hungry?’

‘No, thanks all the same. I did manage to grab a sandwich.’

‘OK.’ Alice went over to the counter and ordered two fresh pots of tea.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Steve
and Susie deep in conversation, then Susie was laughing, and Steve was making funny faces.

‘The girl obviously loves her daddy.’ The woman behind the counter had also seen how the other two were having fun together.

Alice smiled. ‘Oh, he’s not her daddy, he’s her uncle, but you’re right, Susie does love him – almost as much as she loves his brother, Mike, my husband and Susie’s father.’