The Buffer Girls (28 page)

‘Mek haste. It’ll be going up in a
minute.’

‘What will?’ Josh’s curiosity got the better of him at last.

Gary groaned. ‘We told you he was a barm pot, Mick. He’s still wet behind the ears.’

‘He’s orreight, ain’t you, Josh? He knows how to keep his mouth shut and he didn’t try nicking off his mates tonight like someone I could mention.’

At that moment there was a roar behind them and they all turned to see the flames
lighting up the night sky.

‘Oh God, it’s the car. It’s caught fire. What about Pete?’ Josh made as if to set off back towards the car, but Mick grabbed his hand. ‘He’s set it on fire
deliberately. Listen, that’s him. Here he comes. Now, we’d all better scarper.’

‘Why’s he done that?’

‘I told you,’ Gary muttered.

‘Shut up, will yer, Gary? Leave this to me.’

As a breathless
Pete caught up with them, the four of them began to run at a steady pace down the road until, about half a mile on, Mick suddenly said, ‘Stop. I can hear summat.’

They all stopped, standing very still and listening to the sound of a motorbike’s engine coming closer.

‘Quick. Into the ditch.’ As they scattered, Mick grabbed Josh’s arm and dragged him to the left. ‘Not that way. You’ll roll
down the hill. Here, stick close to me
and keep your head down.’

They slithered down the bank and splashed into icy water in the bottom of a shallow ditch.

‘Ugh! My feet—’ Josh began and then found Mick’s hand clamped firmly over his mouth as he pulled him down. They crouched in the ditch, below the level of the road, as two
motorcycles roared past towards the burning car.

As the
noise receded a little, Pete whispered, ‘Were they coppers?’

‘Dunno,’ Mick said, ‘but we’re not waiting to find out.’ He hauled Josh to his feet and they climbed up the bank and resumed their running, this time at a faster
pace.

It was almost dawn by the time Josh stumbled into the house. Though he’d drunk a lot of beer in the barn, the cold night air, together with the fear and the shock of
realizing what he’d been involved in, had sobered him. As he crept into the bedroom, Emily woke up. She had only been able to doze on and off as she wanted to talk to Josh the moment he came
in. No doubt he’d
be a little worse for drink but, hopefully, not so drunk that he wouldn’t be able to take in what she had to tell him. It was a good job it was a Saturday night, she
thought, and he had no work the next day. As soon as she heard the creak of his bed and knew he had undressed and got into bed, she got out of her own bed and went round the curtain.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, she shook
him by the shoulder. ‘Josh, Josh, there’s something I must tell you.’

‘Won’t it wait, Em? I’m tired.’

‘Yes, I bet you are. Been spending all your wages again?’

‘No, Mick was in the chair tonight – treating everyone. He’d had a bit of luck, he said. So no, I haven’t been spending all my wages and I’ve plenty left for
Mam.’ This lie he’d worked out as he’d walked the last few yards
home, when Mick had said it was safe to walk at an ordinary pace.

‘Less suspicious now, we’re amongst houses. You only want one nosey old beggar to look out of his winder . . .’

As they’d parted in the court, Mick had pressed three pound notes into his hands. ‘You did well tonight, Josh. You’re one of us now.’

The intended compliment only brought dread to Josh’s heart.

‘Josh –
don’t fall asleep. I’ve got something to tell you. Josh . . .’ Emily shook his shoulder again. ‘Listen to me.’

With a groan, Josh pulled himself up in the bed and rubbed his eyes. ‘Go on, then. Is it about Trip? Have you heard from him?’

‘Not exactly. But Dad told me something tonight that explains everything.’

‘Dad told you? How could he? He can’t speak.’

‘I know, but he made
signs and I understood.’

Josh gaped at her as if he didn’t believe her, but then he said, ‘Go on.’

‘Mam’s been burning letters. Letters from Amy and, I think, ours to her as well.’

For a long moment in the dim light of the candle, Josh stared at her. ‘You must have misunderstood. Mam wouldn’t do that.’ Then, after a long pause, there was doubt in his
voice as he added, ‘Would she?’

‘Oh, I think so,’ Emily said bitterly, a hard edge to her tone. ‘To get what she wants, she’d do anything. She admitted to me a while back that she hadn’t been
truthful with us when she brought us to Sheffield. Mr Trippet never said he’d help you get a job, but she brought us anyway. I expect that’s why you got the sack from there when he
found out you were working there despite what he’d
said.’

Josh ran his hand through his hair. ‘My God! How could she do such a thing to us? We’re her children.’

‘She’s ambitious for you. She wants you to be someone. An important someone and she’ll stop at nothing to achieve it.’

‘But to do that! I can’t believe it. Are you sure you really understood Dad, Em?’

‘I’m sorry, but yes, I am. But you must promise me something.’

‘What?’
Josh hardly seemed to be listening now, so Emily shook him gently. ‘Listen, you mustn’t say a word to Mam.’

He blinked and stared at her through the gloom. ‘Why ever not?’

‘Because you’ll let Dad down if you do. She has the caring of him, don’t forget.’

‘You mean, you think she’d take it out on him?’

‘I don’t like to think so, Josh, but I never thought she’d destroy our letters.’

Josh sighed. ‘That settles it. I’ll go to Ashford. I’ll set off first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘You mean this morning,’ Emily pointed out.

‘Whatever, but I’m going. ‘I’ll get up as usual and get dressed in my best suit. Mam’ll think I’m going to church, but I’ll set off for Ashford. Wake me
up, Em, won’t you?’

As she got up from the bed to return to her own side of the curtain,
Josh grasped her hand. ‘I’ll see what I can find out about Trip while I’m there.’

Emily smiled wanly, not trusting herself to speak as her eyes filled with tears. Oh Trip, whatever must you be thinking of me, if you’ve written and not heard from me in return?

As Josh closed his eyes, he felt a sense of relief flood through him. Now, after what Emily had told him, he wanted to go to see
Amy and find out the truth for himself more than anything else,
but he was also honest enough to admit to himself that this could get him out of a very nasty situation that was developing. And if his journey there and back took him longer than one day –
which it very well might – well, he wouldn’t be missed on a ‘Saint Monday’!

Until he was walking down the main street in Ashford, Josh
hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed the place. It felt good to be back and yet his stomach was
churning with nerves. He didn’t know what to expect when he met Amy. Even from a distance he could hear the clanging of Bob Clark’s hammer on his anvil. Josh hesitated. He didn’t
know who he feared meeting the most: Amy or her father.

He’d been lucky that he’d managed to beg a lift with
a carrier all the way to the village and now, in the afternoon sun, as he drew near the open door and his shadow fell across the
floor of the smithy, the man paused in his work and glanced up, expecting to see a customer with a horse to be shod urgently or a fence to be mended. When he saw Josh he dropped his heavy hammer
and straightened up slowly. It was as he did so that there was a movement
near the back door of the smithy, open to let a draft through the workplace that was hot winter and summer alike from the
heat of the roaring fire, and Josh saw a small child standing there. The child’s face was in shadow, but Josh could see that it was a little boy about a year old. His hand resting on the door
jamb, he was standing perfectly still as, no doubt, he had been taught by his mother
. . .

Josh’s heart leapt in his chest. Amy! Amy had a child. She had found someone else and had a child. Perhaps – there was no perhaps about it; she must be married. Perhaps in one of the
letters he had failed to receive, she’d told him. Josh felt a physical pain in his chest and he closed his eyes briefly. Amy was married. And to someone else. In that brief moment before
anyone spoke,
before explanations could begin, Josh knew what a fool he had been. He had lost her; the only girl he’d truly loved.

Still, Bob did not speak and the child remained motionless, staring at the stranger across the distance between them.

‘Mr – Clark.’ Josh’s voice was husky. ‘I’m sorry. I – I shouldn’t have come.’

Now Bob moved towards him and stood in front of him, his face an expressionless
mask. ‘Why
have
you come back, Josh? Is it for Amy? Or have you come to tell her that you’ve
met someone else? I must know.’

‘But – I don’t understand.’ Josh gestured towards the infant. ‘Obviously,
she’
s the one who’s found someone else. Who is it?’ His tone
was growing belligerent. And yet, he knew he had only himself to blame. ‘Is she married?’

‘Answer my question.’ Frowning, Bob
barked the question.

And now, Josh could answer truthfully. Lizzie faded from his mind and there was only Amy. ‘I’ve come back to see her because, if she did write to me, I never got her letters.’
He stopped short of telling Bob Clark about his mother’s mischief-making. ‘Did she get mine?’

Bob’s frown deepened. ‘She got one shortly after you left, but after that – nothing.’

‘I wrote
to her the minute we got to Sheffield.’ Josh ran his tongue around his lips that were suddenly dry. Now he remembered that he had posted that one himself. ‘And
I’ve written several times since. And so has Emily. But, because I never heard, I stopped. I thought she must have met someone else. And now –’ he nodded towards the small boy
standing quietly at the back of the workshop – ‘I see that
she has. Did she tell me about him in one of the letters I never got?’

‘Amy did write to you,’ Bob said quietly, ‘but she stopped when she didn’t hear anything from you. She never got those letters either. They must all have – gone
astray.’ It was the kindest way Bob could have put it, but he had his suspicions as to what might have happened. Someone had intercepted all the letters; those
from Amy to Josh, his to her
and even Emily’s to Amy. Someone who didn’t want to see the couple together. Someone who was so ambitious for Josh that she didn’t think Amy was good enough. Martha Ryan was the
only person who would have had the opportunity to do such a thing. Bob Clark guessed the truth without anyone having to tell him. But he said nothing to Josh. Instead, he smiled. The young
feller
was here now and by the expression on his face it looked as if he was devastated by the thought that Amy was married to someone else. In that moment, Bob didn’t blame Josh. He moved closer
and put his hand on Josh’s shoulder. His voice was husky as he said softly, ‘Amy isn’t with anyone else, Josh. That little lad –’ he gestured with his head towards the
little boy standing so quiet
and still – ‘is your son.’

Josh’s mouth dropped open. For a moment, he was dumbstruck. Then, hoarsely, he whispered. ‘Why ever didn’t she tell me?’ he began and then added swiftly, ‘Oh, the
letters . . .’

But Bob shook his head. ‘No, she didn’t tell you – not even in her letters. She didn’t want to put pressure on you to marry her if . . . Well, she thought – when
she didn’t hear from
you – that you were the one who’d found someone else.’

Guilt flooded through Josh at the thought of Lizzie. However was he going to tell her this piece of news? For now, there was no doubt what he was going to do. His decision made, Josh
straightened his shoulders and walked slowly towards the little boy. Squatting down in front of him, he said gently, ‘Hello, little feller. What’s your
name?’

He didn’t know if the child could talk yet, but he could certainly walk well. He looked sturdy and quite steady on his feet.

The boy stared solemnly at him with clear, hazel eyes that were so like Josh’s own.

Bob had moved closer and said now, ‘He doesn’t say much yet. He’s not quite one. His first birthday’s in a couple of weeks’ time. His name’s Joshua Henry
– after you
– but we call him Harry.’

Josh felt the lump in his throat and, silently, he held out his arms. Harry glanced up at his grandfather briefly and then stepped forward. Tenderly, Josh picked him up and murmured,
‘Let’s go and find your mam, shall we?’

She was in the kitchen, stirring something in a large saucepan on the hob. She must have heard a noise at the door for, without turning round,
she said, ‘If that’s you, Harry, stay
there. This pan’s very hot.’

Josh was silent for a moment watching her. She was just as he remembered. Perhaps her waist had thickened slightly, but then, he reminded himself, she had borne a child. His child. And she was
still his lovely Amy. How could he ever have even thought of being unfaithful to her?

‘Amy,’ he said softly so as not to startle
her. ‘It’s – me.’

She stood perfectly still for a long moment before letting go of the wooden spoon, stepping away from the range and turning slowly to face him. At the sight of him standing there with their son
in his arms, tears flooded down her cheeks. He held out his free arm to her and she flew to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against him.

‘Oh Josh,
Josh!’

Later, over their evening meal, which Amy managed to stretch to include Josh, they talked over everything. But Josh’s glance kept sliding towards the little boy sitting
at the table with them in the high chair that Bob had lovingly crafted. He could hardly believe it. This was his son.

‘We must get married,’ he murmured, his gaze still on the boy, ‘as soon as we can. My
mother can’t stop us now.’

Amy and her father exchanged a glance and then Amy burst out laughing. ‘Well, isn’t that the most romantic proposal a girl ever got and in front of her father too! Shouldn’t
you ask his permission first?’

Josh grinned. ‘Sorry. I’ll go down on one knee, if you want me to, Amy. Only—’

‘What do you think, Dad? Ought I to marry this reprobate who leaves me
for years without so much as a letter?’