Three Letters (5 page)

In truth, she felt too exhausted to go traipsing all the way down the street. That Len was too energetic and demanding for his own good, she mused with a sly little
smile.

When Tom took the towel from her, she felt pleased with herself at having duped him yet again. ‘I’m sorry about not having the meal ready.’ Leaning forward, she brushed his face with a fleeting kiss.

Tom could not forget the figure running from the ginnel, and even now the thick aroma of rolled tobacco lingered on her.

When she pecked him on the cheek he simply nodded and moved away.
Just now, the touch of her hands was repugnant to him. Making his way out of the scullery, he slung the wet towel into the laundry bin as he went.

As Tom headed for the front parlour, he could hear Ruth loudly complained, ‘I already had sausage and mash planned and now, what with you spending money on fish and chips, I’ve no idea how I’ll stretch it for the bills and everything.’

He called back,
‘You forget, I did that overtime. So you’ll manage. There’s more than enough money to pay the bills and get Casey’s new shoes. As for my trousers, you needn’t bother.’

He was convinced that she and Len had lain together, but he thrust the ugly suspicion aside andwith a quieter heart he quickened his steps.

Life could be very cruel, as he had recently learned only too well, and there was much
to be afraid of. But this evening he could spend precious time with his son, and that was all he cared about.

For now.

O
UTSIDE THE FRONT-ROOM
Tom paused to listen. Casey had the heart and fingers of a true musician. His technique was not yet perfect, but his artistry was enchanting.

Leaning on the door jamb, his face suffused with pride, Tom murmured as though to the boy, ‘You do your daddy proud, my son. You’re not quite there with the chords, but it’s only a matter of time. More importantly, you’ve
got a magic that can never be taught. And that’s what really counts.’

His eyes filled with tears. He despised what he must do. Time and again, he had tried desperately to think of an alternative, but there was none. So now he was resigned; impatient, even, to do the awful deed.

When the music stopped, Tom took a deep breath and gently pushed open the parlour door. ‘That was wonderful,’ he told
the boy. ‘I’ve no doubt that one day you’ll make a fine musician.’

Happy to see his father, Casey put aside the guitar and ran to meet him, laughing out loud when Tom swung him in the air before hugging him close.

In that precious moment, with his son close to him, Tom almost lost sight of the path he had chosen. But nothing he could do or say would change what was already set in motion.

‘Was
I really good?’ Casey asked when Tom set him down. ‘I asked Mam if I could play the guitar and she said yes. You’re not cross with me, are you?’

Faking a frown, Tom spoke sternly. ‘I should think so! Coming in here, playing my guitar without so much as a by-your-leave! Yes, of course, you’re in trouble. After we’ve eaten, you’re to wash all the dishes, and when that’s done, you’ll set about scrubbing
the floor till I can see my face in it. After that, the back yard needs sweeping …’

Casey broke into a grin, and then both he and Tom were laughing out loud. ‘I knew you didn’t mean it,’ Casey giggled. ‘I knew you were only playing. Was I good, though, Daddy?’ he persisted. ‘Did I really play well?’

‘You did, yes. You’ve still a lot to learn, but you’re getting there, and I’m proud of you. Matter
o’ fact, you’ve taken to the guitar like you were born to it.’ He ruffled the boy’s thick, brown hair. ‘Y’know what, son?’

‘What?’ As always, Casey hung on his every word.

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I reckon …’ Tom paused, wondering how to put it, ‘… yeah, I reckon the angels must have smiled on you.’

‘Really?’ Casey wasn’t sure what to make of his daddy’s comment, but he thought it might
be a good thing.

‘Yes, really.’ Tom looked him in the eye, his voice low and meaningful. ‘I’ll tell you something …’ Then he thought of what he was about to do, and how it would affect this darling boy, and he was racked with pain.

Impatient, Casey caught his attention. ‘Go on then … what were you going to tell me?’

‘Listen to me, son. You must never forget what I’m about to say. I need you
to think about it, and believe it. And when you think about it, I want you to keep it in your heart. Can you do that for me, Casey?’

Intrigued and excited, Casey promised. So Tom told him. ‘First of all, I’m very proud of you, Casey. You’re a wonderful son, and I love you so very much.’

‘I love you too, Daddy.’

Tom smiled. ‘Would you like to know something else?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Well, then.
From the first day you came struggling into the world, I always believed that the angels had smiled on you. Y’see, when the angels smile on someone who they think is extra special, they also sprinkle a little bit of magic.’

The boy was mesmerised. ‘Do they? Do they really?’

‘Oh, yes. But they don’t always smile on everyone.’

‘Well, I don’t think they smiled on my teacher, because he shouts
and he never laughs, and when the bell goes for playtime, he throws us out in a heap.’

Tom chuckled. ‘I expect that’s because the poor man’s had enough of you by playtime, eh?’

‘Did the angels smile on you, Daddy?’

Tom thought about that. ‘I reckon they did,’ he answered solemnly. ‘Not because they thought I was anything special, but because they gave me an important assignment. Y’see, they
wanted me to take care of you. And I’m very happy with that.’

‘So, how did the angels smile on
me
, Daddy?’

‘Oh, that’s easy.’ Tom felt a mingling of joy and great sadness. ‘When you pick up that guitar and make music, it’s a beautiful thing to hear. You’re one of the few people who can touch the heart and lift the soul.’

He cast his mind back to his own childhood. ‘When I was your age, my daddy
– your granddad Bob – taught me to play the guitar. I learned quickly and, just like you, I really loved it. But I could never make the guitar sing quite like you do. I could make people listen and I enjoyed it, but you, Casey, you
live
it. You’re part of the guitar and together you create a magic all of your own. Believe it or not, there are very few people who can do that. You see, Casey,’ he
tapped his chest, ‘when you play, the music comes from deep down inside of you. Something amazing happens, because you have a way of reaching people … of touching them with your music. You make them happy and sad, and uplifted all at the same time. Tell me, son, is that how
you
feel when you play?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, you understand what I’m saying then?’

‘I think so, Daddy.’ Up to now, he had never
told anyone how he felt when he played the guitar. ‘When Granddad Bob plays, it makes me sad, and I want to cry. Then I feel happy and I want to laugh out loud. I want him to play for ever, because it’s …’ Lost for words, he fell quiet for a moment, ‘… Granddad must have the magic, eh?’

Tom smiled. ‘Yes, son. And after the angels had sprinkled the magic on Granddad, they saved some of it for
you. The thing is, Casey, you’ve been blessed with a gift that can never be taught.’

‘Does Granddad Bob think the same?’

‘I don’t know; he’s never said, but though you’ve each been given a gift and you play with the same passion, there is a difference between you and Granddad. You see, Granddad Bob never had ambitions to play big halls or travel the world. I would have liked to, but it didn’t
work out. But you will. One day when you’re ready, you’ll take your music to the people, and however long you play for them, they will always want more.’

‘What? Y’mean like when they asked me to play for the Scouts’ party, and they wanted me to play again?’

Tom chuckled. ‘Well, yes … sort of. Only, I’m talking huge halls, like the size of the Ritz picture house, with hundreds of people listening
to you play, and afterwards they’ll clap so loud the rafters will shake.’

‘Oh!’ In his mind, the boy conjured up a frightening image. ‘That’s too scary!’

‘All right then, maybe the rafters won’t shake,’ Tom reassured him, ‘but when the people stand up, clapping and shouting, everyone will hear, and then your name will be known across the world. “Casey Denton,” they’ll say, “oh, but he’s got
the magic.”’

Afraid and excited and all at once lost for words, the boy didn’t know what to say. What his daddy told him just now, was overwhelming. He could not begin to take it in.

Bringing the exchange to a close, Tom remembered Casey would be hungry. ‘Come on, son. It’s time to put the guitar away.’

A few minutes later, after the guitar was safely replaced in its cubbyhole, Tom took his
son by the hand. ‘Now that we’ve set the world to rights, I reckon it’s time we got summat to eat, don’t you?’

He could see how Casey had been astonished by his vision of the future, while he himself had never been in any doubt as to his son’s musical talents. From Casey’s first attempt at playing the guitar, Tom had been convinced that one day his boy would make his mark in the music world.

Casey had been mulling his daddy’s words over in his mind. ‘If they ask me to visit different places away from here, you will come with me, won’t you?’

‘If it’s possible, I’ll be with you always. Everywhere you go,’ Tom answered cagily. He gave Casey a gentle warning. ‘I’m not saying success will be handed to you on a plate. Oh, no! In this world, if you give nothing out, you get nothing back.
That’s the way it is, but if you work hard and stick at it, I can honestly promise that, in time, you’ll play the guitar better than I ever did; and, dare I say it, better, even, than your granddad Bob.’

The boy caught his breath. ‘I’ll never be as good as you and Granddad. Never!’

Pausing outside the parlour door, Tom stooped down and, gently wrapping his work-worn hands about the boy’s face,
he gave a quiet, knowing smile. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we, son?’

‘You’ll help me, though, won’t you, Daddy?’

‘Haven’t I already helped you?’ He hoped so. Oh, he did hope so. Brightening his smile, he announced jovially, ‘My stomach’s playing a tune of its own, so now can we kindly go in search o’ them fish and chips?’

Ruth was just putting out a pot of tea and various condiments.

‘It’ll be your own fault if the food’s gone cold!’ she snapped. ‘What the devil ’ave you been up to?’

‘Daddy’s been listening to me play the guitar,’ Casey announced proudly. ‘When we’ve finished our tea, will you come and listen, please, Mam?’

‘I haven’t got time!’ Taking a piece of bread and butter, she took a huge bite and, still chewing, she told him angrily, ‘I’ve told you before, I’ve
got more to do than listen to you making a row on that damned guitar!’

She felt peeved. The brat had spoiled her fun with Len, and then Tom had taken it on himself to open his wage packet. It was clear that the pair of them were getting above themselves, and she was determined to nip that in the bud.

‘Please, Mam?’ Casey reminded her. ‘You
never
listen to me play.’

‘That’s because I’ve got
better things to do.’ Angrily slicing a fleshy chunk from the fish-belly, she stabbed it with her fork and rammed it into her mouth. ‘You’re getting above yourself, my boy!’ A flake of fish escaped down her chin and she angrily wiped it away. ‘What right had you to play that guitar? Especially after I warned you not to?’ She was determined to stir up trouble between father and son. They were always
cosying up together over the wretched guitar.

Shocked at her blatant lie, Casey again reminded her, ‘You said I could play it.’ He turned to his father. ‘Honestly, Daddy, I would never play your guitar without asking. Mam said it would be all right.’ Close to tears, he appealed to his mother. ‘Tell him, Mam … please?’

‘You’re a wicked little liar!’ Leaning towards him, she raised her hand, but
when Tom fastened her with a hardened look, she dropped it and began viciously hacking at the fish. ‘I might have known you’d believe him against me,’ she ranted. ‘I’m telling you, I never said he could play it. I told him he could clean it, and that was all!’

Fixing Casey in a direct glare, she warned, ‘Don’t you dare make me out to be the bad one! You’d best own up and shame the devil. Go on,
own up to what you did!’ She envied their close relationship, and it gave her a sense of achievement when she was able to come between them.

‘It doesn’t really matter,’ Tom intervened. ‘Stop bullying the boy, Ruth!’ He knew she was the one who was lying; he could see it in her face.

‘So, I’m “bullying” him, am I?’ Slamming down her knife and fork, she glared at Tom. ‘He’s calling me a liar,
and you’re doing sod-all about it! That boy is turning out to be a bad ’un, but you just can’t see it, can you?’

‘Honestly, Daddy, I’m telling you the truth,’ Casey sobbed. ‘I would never play your guitar without asking. I went to the bedroom and asked if I could clean the guitar. But Mam got angry, and told me to go away.’ Something else came into his mind. ‘She didn’t want me outside her bedroom
door. She said I could sell your guitar to old Foggarty …’ He paused, remembering. ‘She told me to go away … that she was busy …’ He began to falter. ‘I heard something else, I mean … I think I heard.’

A hostile glance from Ruth was enough to put him on his guard, but then fear became anger. ‘It’s Mam who’s telling lies. Not me!’

Believing enough had been said, Tom soothed the boy. ‘That’s enough,
Casey. Eat your tea now. It doesn’t matter if you did play the guitar without asking, because I would have said yes anyway. But, if you like, we can talk about this later, eh?’ He gave a little smile. ‘All right, son?’

The boy gave a nod. His mam did things that worried him. There had been other times when he’d thought she had someone in her bedroom. He wondered if he should tell the whole truth:
how this very afternoon, he thought he heard her talking to someone there. And what about the man she said she’d sent away?

Casey suspected she had not sent the man away at all, yet he fretted about telling, because he didn’t want to cause another argument. His troubled young heart urged him to confide in his daddy about men sneaking in and out of the house, and voices whispering in her bedroom.
One time there was money lying on her bed after she’d had a visitor. That made him curious. It puzzled him, but he never said anything about it.