The Loner by Josephine Cox Page A

this damned thing! I can’t even fasten the beggar.’
    Judy came to the rescue. ‘Don’t fidget, Dad,’ she said, sliding the tie round his leathery neck. ‘And I think you’re right. I bet the people will be there for old Joseph.’
    ‘I’m not so sure.’ Rolling the flesh-coloured stockings up to her thighs, Beth hoisted her skirt and hooked up the suspenders. ‘Although we were friends, there was summat inside Rita that made her lose all control. By! She must have bedded half the male population o’ Blackburn in her time. I’m just glad she never started on you, Tom. There must be a hundred women out there who’d like to dance on her grave, never mind come and pay their respects.’
    As she spoke, she made the sign of the cross over herself. ‘God rest her soul all the same,’ she prayed.
    Judy glanced across at her mam. ‘Your seams are crooked.’
    ‘What?’
    Having looped her daddy’s tie into a neat little knot, the girl pointed down at her mother’s stockings. ‘The seams are all crooked, see?’
    ‘Oh, damn and bugger it!’ As a rule Beth never wore stockings; she much preferred bare legs, or a warm pair of socks inside boots or stout shoes. She was a farmer’s wife, not a townswoman.
    Twisting herself round, Beth began tweaking the stockings, until the seams were as straight as she could get them. ‘How’s that, lass?’ she panted.
    Judy nodded. ‘Much better, Mam.’
    ‘Right well, it’s time we were on our way.’ Looking in the mirror, she dabbed a discreet shaking of powder on her face, then a touch of lipstick, and then came the hat – a small round, blueberry-coloured thing. ‘How does that look?’ she asked, spinning round to face them.
    ‘Like a cherry on a cake,’ Tom remarked, making his daughter smile.
    Ignoring his cheeky comment, Beth asked of Judy, ‘Do I look dignified, lass?’
    The girl gave an honest answer. ‘Yes, Mam.’
    ‘And the hat – is it suitable for the occasion, d’you think?…And don’t look at your father; he’s got no idea.’
    Judy gave her own opinion. ‘You look really smart, Mam. Rita would be pleased you’d made the effort.’
    Beth regarded her daughter with a critical eye; the dark flared skirt and fitted jacket, and her light brown hair taken back in one thick plait. ‘You do us proud, so you do,’ she said with a generous hug. ‘Now then, are we ready or what?’
    Tom was still tugging at the neck of his shirt; red in the face, he looked fit to burst. ‘It’s choking me, damn it!’
    ‘It’s me as’ll choke you, if you don’t stop yer moaning!’ Turning away, Beth winked at her daughter. ‘Look at our Judy,’ she told her husband. ‘She’s quietly got herself ready an’ not a word of complaint.’
    Judy didn’t mind their friendly bantering; she had other things on her mind. ‘Do you think Don or Davie will be there?’ she asked. She’d dressed up with Davie in mind, just in case by some miracle he turned up; had wanted to look her very best. She knew it was silly. He’d have his heart and mind on his mam, not her. And she worried about how he’d been surviving, these past few days. He hadn’t been back to the barn.
    ‘I’ve been wondering the very same,’ Tom said. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me to see the lad there at some point. I mean, look how he stuck by his mam when everyone else turned against her. He’ll not desert her now, not if I know the lad, he won’t. As for Don, it’s a crying shame. He’ll probably not even know that the poor lass is dead.’
    ‘If he does put in an appearance, do what you can to persuade him to stay, Tom,’ Beth said. ‘Tell him he can have a home with us for as long as he wants.’
    A few minutes later, with Tom lagging behind, still moaning because he was ‘being throttled by this blessed tie!’ the three of them made their way to the car. The old Morris Minor was in a bad humour today, and needed the starter-handle to get it going, by which time Tom had taken his