A Mother’s Gift: Two Classic Novels. Josephine Cox

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       Chapter 1

       Salford, Bedfordshire

      HE HAD SEEN them twice before, and each time his curiosity was aroused. Arm-in-arm, the two women would come softly into the churchyard, place their flowers, and linger awhile before leaving in the same discreet manner in which they had arrived.

      Today, as his bumbling black Labrador Chuck tugged on the lead, the dog’s nostrils twitching at the secret scent of rabbits in the churchyard, the women came again. He tried not to seem interested, but the moment they walked through the gate and passed him by, he could not stop himself from sneaking a glance. They acknowledged him with a polite nod of the head, then moved on, intent about their business. It was almost as if he was not there.

      In her own way, each of the women was beautiful. The taller of the two, who looked about fifty, had long chestnut-brown hair, grey in places, tied back with a ribbon, and lovely golden-brown eyes, a smart though ample figure and softly rounded features. Today, the bouquet of evergreens cradled in her arm seemed to accentuate her beauty; though it was not a virgin beauty, for the crippling seasons of time and emotion were deeply etched in her face.

      She walked with a stick, long and slender with bone handle and silver-capped toe. It was obvious that she was crippled in some slight way, though this did not detract from her air of dignity and sense of purpose. With her sombre bearing and her carefully-measured steps, she made a striking figure.

      He knew they were headed for the same headstone, where he himself had paused many times. In the shape of a cross, the headstone was small and nondescript, yet the words written there were so powerful, they raised that humble stone above all others. The words, carved deep, read:

      BARNEY DAVIDSON

      1890–1933

       A MAN OF COURAGE. HE MADE THE GREATEST SACRIFICE OF ALL.

      Having read the inscription and been intrigued by it, Ben knew it off by heart. It had set his thoughts alight with all manner of questions. What had this man done to deserve such an accolade? What did the words mean? And who had ordered them to be inscribed? Somehow, he didn’t think it had anything to do with the heroism of war. This Barney Davidson would have been twenty-four when World War One broke out – and no doubt the young man had played his part – but he had died well before the second lot.

      His attention was drawn to the two women.

      With such tenderness that it took him aback, the older one stroked the tips of her fingers over the dead man’s name. Her voice broke with pride as she murmured, ‘Oh, my dearest Barney.’ In that moment when she lifted her gaze to the heavens, her brown eyes glittered with tears. So much pain, he thought. So much emotion.

      He СКАЧАТЬ