The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox

his daily paper, Jasper saw her sitting there, a small, solitary figure deep in thought. ‘Well, I never!’ He was surprised to see the house had a visitor. ‘Wonder who she is?’

      As always his curiosity got the better of him.

      Strolling over, he called out from the gate, ‘You look like a little lost fairy sat there.’

      Jolted from her thoughts, Kathy called back, ‘I’m not lost, I’m here to stay.’ As soon as the words were out she took a great deal of comfort from them …‘I’m here to stay.’ It sounded wonderful to her ears.

      Taking it on himself to come up the garden path, Jasper stretched out his hand in welcome. ‘I’m Jasper.’ He introduced himself with the most disarming grin. ‘And if yer haven’t already guessed, I’m the number one nosey parker hereabouts.’

      Kathy took to him straight off. ‘I’m Kathy Wilson,’ she said, shaking his hand, ‘the new owner of Barden House.’ She said it with pride and the widest smile he had ever seen.

      ‘Well now, Kathy Wilson, welcome to West Bay.’ He sat down on the steps beside her. ‘Did yer know yer can get piles from sitting about on cold, damp steps?’

      Kathy laughed out loud. ‘No, I didn’t,’ she confessed, ‘but I do now.’ She thought he was the loveliest, most natural, most odd-looking creature she had ever met. And she was delighted that he’d stopped to chat.

      As was his nature, Jasper got straight to the point. ‘What’s brought you to West Bay?’ He had a particular reason for asking.

      Kathy gestured to the house, shook her head. ‘I had to come here,’ she said. ‘The house was left me by my father.’

      Jasper was visibly taken aback. ‘Oh! I’m sorry, lass. I didn’t realise your father had passed on.’ He had wondered whether that might be the case, but now that it was confirmed he felt deeply sorry. Her daddy had been a fine man, and a good friend. ‘I’m glad yer daddy had the good foresight to leave this house to you, his daughter. It’s a grand old place.’ Full of wonderful memories, he thought sadly. ‘A house like this should not be left to rot away.’

      Kathy had been curious as to his earlier remark. ‘Did you know my father?’

      ‘What meks yer say that, lass?’ He hadn’t meant to give away too much, but there were times when his tongue had a mind of its own.

      Kathy persisted. ‘Just now you seemed shocked. You said … you “didn’t realise” my father had passed on. To me, that sounds as if you knew him.’

      Jasper nodded. ‘Aye,’ he admitted, ‘I knew him right enough. He was a good man … the best in my books.’

      Momentarily unable to speak for the rush of emotion this produced, Kathy took a while to compose herself. ‘Tell me about him,’ she asked softly, ‘and Liz. Tell me about her.’ Each time she spoke her name, Kathy grew more curious.

      ‘Mmm.’ Nodding affirmatively to himself, Jasper laid down his newspaper, lit up his pipe and, taking a deep drag of it, he blew the smoke into rivers of curls that dipped and dived in the cool summer breeze. ‘Well, now, let me see,’ he murmured. ‘What would yer like to know, lass?’

      ‘Everything.’

      ‘By! That’s a huge responsibility, lass.’

      ‘I know.’ Jasper’s kindly voice and calming manner put Kathy at ease. ‘But, you see, I didn’t know anything about her until my mother told me. And she only found out after my father …’ Kathy gulped hard; it was still painful, even now. ‘Mother made a terrible song and dance about it, though the way she treated him, I sometimes wonder why he stayed with her.’

      Jasper was philosophical as always. ‘No relationship is easy,’ he pondered. ‘Them as says different are out-and-out liars.’

      Kathy knew the reason for her mother’s anger and found herself confiding in Jasper. ‘She hated him even more when she found out he’d chosen another woman over her and, to make matters worse, Dad left their love-nest to me. Mother kept it to herself all this time … no doubt meaning to sell it and pocket the money. But when she came to have a look at it, she hated the house … said it smelled of fish. She wanted nothing to do with any of it. She thought the house was worthless … “derelict” was what she said, and that it was … “filled with cheap, rubbishy furniture”. Then she found out the deeds were in my name. Even if she could have sold it, she probably wouldn’t have done. Firstly she’s about to marry a wealthy old man, so she didn’t need the money, and secondly, she had another, more devious plan up her sleeve.’

      Jasper was intrigued. ‘What kind of plan?’

      ‘She intended giving my sister all her jewellery and the family home. I reckon she thought that, if she handed me this house at the same time, I couldn’t possibly object. That was her thinking, I’m sure of it.’

      Jasper leaned forward, his voice low and intimate. ‘Your daddy never spoke about his life in London, but in a moment o’ confidence he did tell me that he ’ad only one great regret in his life. Now I think I know what he meant.’ Jasper thought this delightful young woman had been hard done by, and said so. ‘Tell me summat, lass.’

      ‘If I can.’

      ‘Yer said one o’ the reasons yer mother told yer about this place was so she could give summat more valuable to yer sister, is that right?’

      ‘That’s what I think, yes.’

      ‘And if yer hadn’t been given this house … would you have “objected” … about yer sister being given all these expensive things?’

      Kathy managed a smile. ‘No. All my life my mother has given me nothing – not material things, and certainly not her love. And I never asked for anything. I had my dad’s love and, in the end, I made my own way, in spite of her.’

      ‘I understand.’ Jasper saw the determined set of her jaw and thought how like her father she was. ‘It’s a pity your mother saw this house as “derelict”.’ He gave a hearty chuckle. ‘I reckon Liz would be deeply hurt to hear her carefully chosen furniture described as being “rubbish”.’

      Kathy explained. ‘Mother was bound to say that, because she thought my father and Liz had probably chosen it together. In fact, I’m sure she only came to see the house out of curiosity. My mother would never have dirtied her hands on Father’s love-nest … unless, of course, it was filled with priceless things.’