Free Reach for Tomorrow by Rita Bradshaw Page B

‘Where’ve you bin? Mr Riley an’ our Douglas’ve bin scourin’ the streets lookin’ for you the past two hours or more.’  
    ‘Where’s me mam?’ He didn’t answer her question. And then, when one hand went to her throat and the other clutched at her shawl, he said again, his voice sharp now, ‘Mrs Riley, where’s me mam? What’s happened?’  
    ‘She’s gone, lad.’  
    ‘Gone?’ He stared at her stupidly. ‘Where?’  
    And then, as her meaning hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, he groped at one of the straight-backed chairs under the table and sat down quickly, her voice coming at him through the ringing in his ears.  
    ‘You couldn’t have done anythin’, lad, not even if you’d bin home hours ago.’ Mrs Riley had her hand on his shoulder and was talking rapidly. ‘I found her meself just after half four when I nipped round with a bit of bacon an’ some stuff our Emily had got hold of.’ Mrs Riley’s married daughter, Emily, had a husband who dabbled in the black market, and as Mrs Riley’s oldest friend, Davey’s mother came in for a share of the contraband. ‘Dr Maynard reckons she’d bin gone some hours, afore mid-day he thought. Heart attack.’  
    ‘A heart attack?’ Davey looked up into the kindly face dazedly. ‘But she was as fit as a fiddle apart from her rheumatism an’ the indigestion keeping her awake some nights.’  
    ‘Aye, well the doctor reckons them dos she put down to wind was her heart.’ Mrs Riley shook her head slowly. ‘You know how she was about goin’ to the quack. Wouldn’t be told. Eee, it gave me a turn, I don’t mind tellin’ you, lad, findin’ her like that.’  
    ‘Where is she now?’ He couldn’t take this in.  
    ‘In the front room, lad. She’d’ve wanted to be laid out there. Mr Riley an’ our Douglas fetched in the trestle we used for our mam.’ The hand on his shoulder was patting him as she talked. ‘Mrs McClancy said she’d come in later an’ help me do the necessary for your mam if that’s all right with you, unless you think the lasses will want to do it? Or there’s the undertakers?’  
    Davey thought of his three sisters and shook his head. ‘No, Mrs Riley, I think me mam would’ve liked you to see to her.’  
    ‘Aye, I do an’ all, that’s settled then. We’ll lay her out.’  
    ‘I . . . I must see her.’ Davey lumbered unsteadily to his feet, his head spinning. He took a step towards the door and then paused, turning and taking the little woman’s hands as he added, ‘Thank you, Mrs Riley. Thank you.’  
    ‘Aw, lad, lad. You know how much I thought of her, closer than me own sister, she was. Bin through thick an’ thin together, your mam an’ me, an’ the war was only a part of it.’  
    ‘I know, I know.’ Now it was Davey who was doing the patting.  
    ‘I’ve got a bite of somethin’ at home for you when you’re ready, lad. It’s in the oven, keepin’ hot. You tap on the wall when you’re ready an’ I’ll pop it round.’ Mrs Riley wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron and bustled out of the door with her head down, pulling her shawl more tightly about her as the cold hit.  
    Poor Mrs Riley, she’d miss his mam. Davey stood for a moment in the kitchen and for the first time in his life he thought of it as empty. The lump in his throat became choking. He’d miss her too. She’d been a good mam, a loving mother, not like some round these parts who put on a show outside and became harridans and worse with their own menfolk. No, she’d been too giving if anything and his brothers and sisters had always taken full advantage of it. He felt something hot and wet drop onto the back of his hand and looked down at the teardrop in surprise. He hadn’t been aware he was crying. He squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and prepared to walk through to the front room as the tears became a flood that coursed down his young face.
     

Chapter Four
     
    It was a full five