Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2013

Copyright © Josephine Cox 2013

Josephine Cox asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007419913

Ebook Edition © October 2013 ISBN: 9780007419906

Version: 2017-05-22

Dedication

To my darling Ken, as always.

To the musical Murphy family in Ireland. Hope all is well with you. Much love, Jo x

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part Two

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Part Three

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Part Four

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Part Five

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Part Six

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Keep Reading

About the Author

Also by Josephine Cox

About the Publisher

PART ONE

Bedfordshire, February

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WAS SOMETHING disturbing about young Adam.

Deep inside, he carried a secret that he could never tell anyone.

Phil knew, though, because he recognised that certain look: the slump of the shoulders; the sad eyes that gave little away.

Having fought for king and country, Phil knew what it was like to carry a secret. Over the years he had learned to live with the vivid memory of terrible scenes he had witnessed.

He could banter with old companions, but the loneliness of guarding his secret was often unbearable.

Though his life was not empty, he ached for the company of a very special person, the one lovely woman he had loved with every fibre of his being. The only woman who was able to bring sunshine into his life, even on a rainy day.

He kept himself busy helping his neighbours and occasionally meeting up with locals down at the pub. He earned his living by driving the school bus, and when the working day was over, he would go home to an empty house, make his tea and, afterwards, sit in his chair and light up his faithful old pipe. Before it got dark, he would take a leisurely stroll through the countryside, his little mongrel dog, Rex, tripping along beside him.

Phil appreciated his few simple pleasures, though he would have given everything to turn the clock back to a time when he was younger and fitter, and fortunate enough to have a loving wife.

Now, though, he would make his way home as always, and except for the faithful little dog who was never far from his side, the house would be empty.

Now at night, he went up to his bed; alone. At first light he woke up; alone. He had no one special to laugh or cry with, no one to slide his arm around when he felt loving. And there was no one close with whom to share any titbits of gossip or maybe a smile at the occasional naughty tricks the schoolchildren got up to on the bus.

There was no one to chastise him when he left the tap running, or when he casually threw his worn shirt on the bedroom floor. It was a hard truth that after many happy years married to a wonderful woman, he was now a man on his own, with only memories and his dog for company.

The loneliness weighed heaviest on him in the evenings. He longed for things once familiar, like making a pot of tea for two, and sharing it over a cheery fire, or maybe cutting fresh flowers from his little garden, and seeing his wife’s pretty smile as he handed them to her.

Those precious times had been dearly missed these past four years, since his beloved wife lost her fight against a long illness.

Phil’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a flicker of movement reflected in the driver’s mirror. Glancing up, he saw his last passenger, young Adam Carter, climbing out of his seat to make his way down the bus. He was far too quiet and serious for his age. There were times when Phil had caught the boy so deep in thought he was oblivious to the other children around him and he had no particular friend with whom he always sat. In Adam, Phil saw a troubled, frightened boy.

‘We’re nearly there, son!’ he called encouragingly.

Phil manoeuvred the vehicle over to the verge, where he parked, applied the handbrake, and prepared to let the boy off.

‘Right then, Adam, here you are, home safe and well.’

‘Thank you, Mr Wallis, I’ll be all right now.’

‘The name’s Phil …’ he kindly corrected the child. ‘Everyone calls me Phil.’

‘But my father says it’s rude to address your elders by their first name.’

‘Mebbe, but not if they offer you the privilege … which I am very glad to be doing right now. Only if you feel comfortable with it, mind.’

Adam grew restless. ‘I’d really like to call you Phil,’ he admitted, ‘but my father would be angry with me.’

Phil gave a cheeky wink. ‘Well, that’s easily settled. I won’t tell him if you don’t.’

Adam gave it a little thought, then with a wide smile said, ‘OK. I won’t tell him either.’

‘Good! That’s settled then.’ Phil climbed out of the driving seat. ‘Seeing as I need to stretch my legs and it’s such a beautiful afternoon, I’ll walk you down the lane to your front door. That’s if you think your father wouldn’t mind.’

Adam shook his head. ‘He won’t mind. Thank you, Phil.’

Phil laughed out loud. ‘There you are. It wasn’t too difficult to say my name, was it?’

He felt as though, at long last, this lonely boy was beginning to trust him. He hoped the day might come when the child would trust him enough to confide in him.

He now took a sideways glance at young Adam.

At seven years of age, Adam Carter was quietly spoken. With serious brown eyes, and thick dark hair that tumbled over his forehead, he cut a handsome young figure. Not naturally outgoing, he hardly ever laughed out loud, and smiled only on rare occasions. Yet when he did smile it was such a warm, genuine smile, it could light up a room.

Phil had noticed how Adam’s nervousness increased the nearer he got to home. Unlike the other children, who could never get off the bus fast enough, Adam hung back, waiting until the very last minute, almost as though he was reluctant to leave the safety of the bus.

‘Right then, son, that’s another week over. You go on; I need to secure the bus, especially after that young squirrel got inside and wreaked havoc.’

Adam went down the steps. On the last step he gave a short jump to the ground, his satchel catching on the handrail as he did so.

‘All right, are you?’ Phil released his satchel.

‘Yes, thank you, Phil.’

After following Adam down the bus steps, Phil secured the door behind him.

‘I expect you’re glad to be home, eh?’

Except for a curt nod of the head, Adam gave no reply, but he wanted to tell this gentle, kind man that no, he was not all right; that he was not glad to be home. He wanted to confess that he was afraid and unhappy, and that he often dreamed of running away. But he would never do that, because it might be dangerous for someone he loved dearly. So he kept his silence and went on pretending. Even now, as they approached the house, his heart was thumping. Was his father home yet? Had his day been good? Because if not … oh … if not … Quickly, he thrust the bad thoughts from his mind.

Man and boy went down the lane side by side.

‘By! This is a real treat.’ Phil sniffed the air. ‘This time o’ day, the pine trees give off a wonderful scent.’

Adam agreed. ‘Mum says it’s even stronger in the summer. She says when the trees begin to sweat, they create a thick vapour over the woods, and you can almost taste it.’

Phil loved the lazy manner in which the worn path wound in and out of the ancient woodlands, skirting magnificent trees that had been there far longer than he had.

‘You live in a really pretty part of the countryside,’ he told Adam. ‘And now you’ve got the whole weekend before you, so what might you be up to, eh?’ He chuckled. ‘By! I wish I were a lad again … climbing trees and apple-scrumping. The things we used to get up to, you would not believe.’ He gave a great sigh. ‘It’s all a lifetime ago now. Mind you, I’d never be able to climb a tree these days, not with my gammy leg.’ His pronounced limp was a painful trophy from the war.

‘I’m not allowed to climb trees.’ Adam’s voice softened with regret. ‘My father doesn’t approve of it.’

‘Well, I never!’ Phil was dumbfounded. ‘Climbing trees is what boys do. It’s a natural part of growing up, like fishing, and football.’ He gave a wistful smile. ‘And who could ever forget the first time he kissed a girl?’ He rolled his eyes and made the boy smile shyly; he still had that pleasure to come.

‘I know it’s not my place to ask,’ Phil went on in a more serious tone, ‘but, what’s your dad got against you climbing trees?’

Adam shrugged. ‘He says it’s undignified.’

‘I see.’ In fact, he didn’t see at all.

Deep in conversation, they were startled and delighted when a deer shot across their path. A few steps on, and Phil resumed their conversation.

‘Do you know what I’d do, if ever I had loads of money?’

‘No.’

‘I don’t expect I ever will have loads of money, but if I did, I’d build myself the prettiest little cottage right in the middle of these ’ere woods. And I’d be sure to make friends with every animal that lived here.’

Adam laughed. ‘You’d be like the old man in the story.’

‘Oh, and what story is that?’

‘It’s a mystery I once read, about a man who lived in an old shed in the woods. He cut his own logs for the fire, and everything he ate came out of the woods. Sometimes he would even sleep in the forest with the animals, and they never once hurt him.’

‘Ah, well, there you go, then. He sounds like a man after my own heart. So, how long did he live like that?’

‘A long time … years! Then one day he just disappeared, and was never seen again.’

‘Hmmph!’ Stooping to collect a fallen branch, Phil threw it into the verge. ‘So nobody knows what happened to him, eh?’

‘No. The story tells how one day he was seen collecting mushrooms; then he was never seen again. Some of the villagers were worried he might be ill, so they went to check the shed where he lived, but though the old man was gone, all his belongings were still there.’

‘Sounds too spooky for me.’ Phil was intrigued. ‘But what do you think happened to him?’

‘Well … I think maybe he got really sick and he knew he wouldn’t get better, so he crept away where no one would ever find him. Just like the Indians of old used to do.’

Phil thought about that. ‘Well, if that’s the case, he’s a very lucky man. Not many people get to choose how they live their lives, and then decide where to end them.’

There followed a short silence as they each dwelled on the fate of the mystery man.

‘Phil?’ The boy softly broke the silence.

‘Yes, son?’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to choose what I want to do with my life.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because my father has my future all planned out.’

‘Has he now?’ Phil prompted him. ‘And you think that’s a bad thing, do you?’

‘He says I’m his only son and that he’s decided there will be no more children,’ Adam explained. ‘So it’s my duty to follow in his footsteps.’

‘No more children, eh?’

‘That’s what he said.’

‘And are you sure you don’t want to follow in his footsteps?’

‘Yes, I’m sure, but when I try and tell him, he gets really angry.’

He was careful not to reveal how his father often took a belt to him; that one time he split the skin on his back and forbade his mother to take him to hospital.

‘Have you spoken to your mother about not wanting to follow in your dad’s footsteps?’

‘Yes, but Mum said it’s best if I do what Father says.’ He paused before confiding in a quieter voice, ‘Sometimes if I disobey him, he takes it out on her. That’s cowardly, isn’t it, Phil?’

‘I’m sorry, son, but without knowing all the circumstances, it would not be right for me to comment on that,’ Phil apologised, although his mental picture of the boy’s father was now deeply unsettling.

Thinking it might be wise to change the subject, he asked, ‘So if you’re not allowed to climb trees, what do you do when you’re out with your mates?’

‘I don’t have any mates.’

‘Oh? And why’s that then?’

‘Father says I must not waste my time. He says that if I’ve got any spare time after school, I must use it for doing extra studies, because I’ll never make anything of myself if I don’t study.’

He cast his gaze to the floor. ‘Can I tell you something, Phil?’

‘Course you can, son.’

‘I don’t like him very much. He makes me study all the time, and I’m never allowed to do anything else. I would like to have close mates that I could bring home and play with. But Father keeps me too busy for that.’

‘I’m sure your father thinks it’s all for your own good.’

‘I know, but he asks too much of me, and he has such a terrible temper, and if I get the questions wrong, he makes me do them all over again. Sometimes it’s midnight and he still won’t let me go. Mum argues with him and then … he … he …’ his voice tailed off to a whisper. ‘Sometimes, I really hate him.’

Saddened by what Adam had told him, Phil made him a promise. ‘Always remember, son, if ever you feel the need to talk, I’ll be here for you.’ Not being witness to what happened in that house, Phil believed it was wrong of him to criticise. Instead, he quietly reassured the boy, ‘I expect he has your interests at heart, but you obviously believe he’s going about it the wrong way, so all you can do is to keep explaining how you feel.’

‘I’ve made up my mind, I don’t ever want to be like him!’ A dark look crossed his face.

‘Well, I’m sure that’s your choice, Adam, but your father has made a success of his own life and, from what you tell me, it seems he wants the same for you.’

‘I know that.’ Looking ahead towards the house, the boy grew agitated. ‘But he’s not a good man. Sometimes he’s really nasty. He doesn’t laugh, and when he gets angry he shouts and screams. Mum tells me not to rile him, or he might …’

‘Might what?’ Phil could see the child was getting agitated. ‘Apart from the shouting and wanting you to work harder, is there something else that’s worrying you, son?’

‘NO! No, there’s nothing else.’ Fearing he might have said too much already, Adam finished lamely, ‘Me and Mum, we just do what he tells us, and then everything is fine.’

‘Well, just remember what I said, Adam. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.’ Phil brought the subject to an end: ‘I’ve an idea that you and your father will work it out, eventually.’ Even so, he was genuinely concerned by what the boy had told him.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Adam said after a few moments’ silence.

‘Of course you can!’ Chuckling, Phil lightened the mood. ‘Unless you’re after borrowing a shilling or two, because you know what they say: “Never a borrower nor a lender be”, and that’s the rule I live by.’

When he saw Adam’s face fall, he laughed out loud. ‘Take no notice of me,’ he said, ‘I’m just teasing. So, what is it you want to ask?’

Casting a wary glance along the lane, Adam quietly confided, ‘Could you please not tell anybody what I’ve said, about my father?’ Again, he nervously glanced down the lane towards his house.

‘Don’t worry, son. I’ve never been a gossip, and I can assure you that what’s been said here today will not go any further. All right?’

‘Thank you, Phil. Maybe you’re right. My father doesn’t mean to be like he is. It’s only because he works such long hours and he has such a responsible job, he just gets on edge sometimes.’

‘I understand that, son, but if you don’t mind me saying, what suits one man doesn’t always suit another. A man should be able to choose his own path. But you’re not yet a man, and maybe your father is looking out for your future. D’you understand what I’m saying?’

‘Yes, but I don’t want to be bad-tempered and angry like my father. I want to do something that makes me happy.’ Growing increasingly nervous, Adam dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Already my father is training me into his kind of work.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘Well, nearly every night he brings home a pile of paperwork and makes me go through it with him. It’s all calculations of stocks and shares and money transactions. I don’t understand any of it, not really, but sometimes he keeps me at his desk for ages, making me do tests and stuff. He says he’s proud for me to follow in his footsteps. He wants me to learn all about high finance and dealing and stuff. And I hate it!’

Phil understood the boy’s concern. ‘Do you ever get any time to yourself?’

Adam’s face lit up. ‘Only when Father comes home really late, or stays in London overnight on business. That’s when Mum and I have the best time of all, doing the things Father disapproves of. We play card games. Mum keeps the cards in a special hiding place. And sometimes we play loud music on the radio and Mum shows me how to tango and rumba and all that.’

His face broke into a proud smile. ‘She was a champion ballroom dancer once. She won all sorts of trophies and she’s got photographs of her in these beautiful gowns. She said Father asked her to give it all up when they got married, so she gave her dresses away and never danced again. She kept all her photographs and trophies, but Father locked them away. She knows where the key is, though, and when he’s not here, she gets them all out.’

Growing afraid in case anyone was listening, he lowered his voice again. ‘He doesn’t know that Mum searched everywhere for the key. She found it under the carpet in their bedroom. When he’s not here, she sets all her trophies out on the sideboard, and then she teaches me to dance. Oh, Phil, she looks so beautiful. It’s not fair. Why would Father lock away all her precious things like that?’

Phil was shocked. ‘I’m sure I have no idea, son.’

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Phil led the conversation in a slightly different direction: ‘So, would your mum ever want to dance in public again, do you think?’

Adam nodded. ‘Oh, yes! She says she’s still young enough to take it up again. She even mentioned it to Father, but he said if she ever spoke of it again he would have to destroy everything, so she couldn’t ever be tempted. I don’t think she will ever dance again, though.’ Glancing up at Phil, he smiled. ‘Not in public, anyway.’

Phil was beginning to see a much wider picture of this family, and it was not good. ‘Mmm, well, all I can say is, it’s a pity your father has to work such long hours. But it’s good that you and your mum get to spend that time together, isn’t it?’

Adam nodded. ‘It’s really nice when Father isn’t there. Sometimes, me and Mum go across the fields for miles and miles. We stay out for ages. Then on the way back, we get fish and chips, and sit on a park bench to eat them. That way we don’t make the house smell, because then Father would know what we’ve been up to.’ Breathless and excited, he went on, ‘Oh, and sometimes we go to the pictures.’ His face lit up. ‘Last Saturday we went to see a cowboy film.’

Allowing the boy to chatter on excitedly, Phil instinctively eased him round a muddy puddle.

‘Do you have a pet? A little dog, mebbe?’

‘No. One time, Mum bought me a tabby cat, but it got run over. His name was Thomas and I really loved him. I taught him to do little tricks and he followed me everywhere, though Father would chase him out if he went into the house.’

Phil chuckled. ‘I had a cat like that once. Up to everything, he was.’

‘Thomas was the cleverest cat I ever knew,’ Adam confided proudly. ‘I cried a lot when he was run over. Father said I was a big baby and I should be ashamed of myself. And now I’m not allowed to have a pet ever again.’

‘He got run over, you say?’ That surprised Phil because, in his experience, most cats would head for the woods rather than risk going over a main road. ‘That’s a real shame. How did you find out?’

‘Father told us that he found Thomas in the woods, and that he was hurt so bad that he died, so he buried him where he found him. I wanted to go and say goodbye, but Father wouldn’t tell me where he was. He said that way I would get over him much quicker.’

‘Oh dear, that’s really sad. I’m so sorry.’ Having learned a good deal about Adam’s bullying father, Phil could not help but wonder about the cat’s demise.

He had an idea. ‘Look, Adam, being as it’s such a lovely afternoon, I’ll be taking my little dog for a walk through these lanes before it gets dark. You could ask your parents if you can tag along. What d’you say to that, eh?’

Adam shook his head. ‘I’m not allowed.’

‘Oh, but it doesn’t hurt to ask, does it? You never know. My old dad used to say, “If you don’t ask, you don’t get.”’

Adam shook his head. ‘Father won’t let me, but thank you anyway, Phil.’

‘Ah, well, never mind, eh? Mebbe another time.’

‘Yes, I would really like that.’

A few moments later they arrived at the house: a fine Victorian dwelling with tall chimneys, large windows and a sweeping drive. Set in beautifully landscaped grounds, it made an impressive sight. ‘I’ll be fine now, Phil, thank you.’

‘All right, son. I’ll just watch you go inside the gate, then I’ll make my way home.’ Reassured by the lit forecourt and drive, he waited for the boy to close the gate behind him.

‘Oh, look! Father’s home.’ Adam pointed to the big Austin saloon parked in the garage entrance. His face fell visibly as he prepared to go in.

In that same moment a man who had to be Adam’s father burst from the house. Lingering a moment in the shade of the porch, he appeared surprised to see the two of them at the gate.

‘Afternoon, Mr Carter.’ Phil raised his hand in greeting, but the other man gave no response as he scurried to his car.

Leaning closer, Adam confided in a whisper, ‘I’m glad he’s going out, because now I’ll be able to spend time with Mum, instead of being made to work in the office with Father.’

Phil understood, but thought it best not to stir up trouble. In his experience family problems usually sorted themselves out. ‘Right, well, I reckon I’d best be on my way.’

‘’Bye, then, and thank you.’ Adam went towards the house, while Phil turned and trudged back down the lane, deep in thought.

He had gone only a short distance when he heard angry yelling.

‘You’ll do as I say, or you’ll feel the length of my belt! Get out of my way, damn you!’

A minute later, Phil heard the sound of a car door being slammed, then the revving of an engine.

Phil thought if that was the father shouting, it was no wonder the boy had little love or respect for him.

Deep in thought, he pushed on down the lane. Suddenly a car skidded past him at break-neck speed, the wheels sending a thick spray of mud all over Phil’s trouser-leg. ‘BLOODY LUNATIC! TRYING TO KILL ME, ARE YOU?’ Shaking his fist as the car bounced out of the lane and onto the main road, he recognised the big Austin belonging to Adam’s father. ‘Bloody madman!’ Phil yelled, brushing the mud from his trousers as he grumbled. ‘You want locking up. You’ve not heard the last of this, I can tell you.’

About to continue on his way, he thought he heard a cry from somewhere behind him. Then he heard it again; this time closer. It was Adam. Running towards Phil, the boy was clearly distressed, ‘Phil … help me!’

When he fell over, he made no attempt to scramble up. Instead, he remained where he fell, calling out, ‘Come back! I need you, Phil … please.’

Slipping and stumbling on the uneven ground, Phil hurried back to him. By then, Adam was crumpled on the ground, frantically rocking back and forth, his two arms crossed over his head as though defending himself.

Shocked, Phil lifted him from the ground and held him close. ‘What is it, son? What’s happened?’ It was clear that something terrible must have happened.

‘We need you … please, Phil.’ Trembling in the man’s arms, the boy glanced about furtively, his eyes big with fear as he looked back towards the house. ‘Phil, you have to come and see.’ He lowered his voice to a confiding whisper. ‘It was him, I know it was. It was him, Phil. I hate him, I hate him!’

‘Ssh … take a deep breath, son. Tell me what’s happened.’

‘I don’t know! You have to help me, Phil … please!’

‘All right, son. Take it easy now. You and me, we’ll go back together.’ He knew it must be something bad to have affected the boy like this, but now was not the time for questions.

As they hurried back to the house, Adam kept asking over and over, ‘He won’t come back, will he? I don’t want him to come back. Please, Phil, don’t let him come back.’

Quickening his steps as best he could, Phil drew him close, constantly reassuring him, though he had no idea of what might have happened.

In the deepening hours of a February afternoon, he took quiet stock of the boy. At first he suspected his father had given him a beating, but the boy appeared to carry no visible cuts or bloodstains. He was thankful for that much, at least.

As they neared the house, Phil tightened his hold on Adam, while continuing to reassure him.

Clinging to Phil, young Adam seemed not to be listening. Instead, he shivered uncontrollably, while constantly glancing back to the main road.

At the gate, Adam drew back, his whole body resisting as Phil tried to move him gently forward.

Then in a sudden burst that took Phil by surprise, he broke away to run up the drive.

Phil quickly followed, then at the porch he hesitated. It went against his principles to enter another man’s property without invitation, especially when that man was hostile. His concerns about the boy, however, urged him on.

A moment or so later, on entering the inner hallway, Phil was faced with a scene so shocking, he could never in a million years have prepared himself for it.

Adam was at the foot of the stairs screaming, ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ his school shirt covered in blood. He ran back to Phil. ‘Look what he’s done, oh, Phil … look what he’s done.’ The boy’s cries were heart-wrenching.

Deeply shaken, Phil crossed to the foot of the stairs and kneeled to examine the woman. He recognised her as Peggy Carter, Adam’s mother, and like the boy, he believed she was past all earthly help.

Lying in a pool of blood, she was covered in angry red bruises. Her eyes were closed and there seemed no immediate signs of life. Her body was grotesquely twisted, with both legs buckled. Her two arms looked as though they were wrenched out of their sockets. The right arm was loosely stretched out, while the other hung through the gap in the banister as though she had tried to use the banister railings to break her fall. Phil was of the opinion that she lost her footing as she tumbled down the stairs and had made a brave but unsuccessful attempt to save herself from serious injury.

‘Adam! Phone for an ambulance.’ There was no time to waste. ‘Go on, son! Hurry!’ He reminded him of the emergency number. ‘Tell them there’s been a terrible accident, and that your mother is unconscious. Tell them they must come at once!’

As the boy ran to do as he was bid, Phil called after him, ‘Don’t forget to give them the address. Hurry, Adam! Hurry!’

CHAPTER TWO

WHILE ADAM RAN down the lane to the public phone box on the main road, Phil attended to the injured woman. Taking off his coat, he carefully draped it over her. He then leaned closer to detect signs of breathing, but all he could hear was a deep, rattling sound that sent a shiver of fear through him. He knew he had to keep her warm and talk to her. Feeling more helpless than at any other time in his life, he mumbled, ‘Oh, dear God, be merciful, for it’s Your help she needs now.’

Not knowing whether she could hear him, he leaned closer, his tone reassuring. ‘Mrs Carter, I want you to try and concentrate on my voice. I need you to keep listening to me.’ He tenderly laid his hand over hers. ‘My name is Phil. I’m the driver of the school bus. Adam’s all right, but he’s anxious about you. But don’t worry, I’ll look after him. He’ll be safe enough with me. You just keep listening to my voice. Try and concentrate on what I’m saying, if you can.’

When he felt her hand twitch beneath his, he took it as a sign that he was getting through to her. ‘Mrs Carter, listen to me … the ambulance has been called. They’re on their way. It seems you fell down the stairs. You’ve been hurt bad, but they’ll look after you. Don’t try to move; it’s best if you keep as still as possible.’ Though, in her sorry condition, he doubted whether she could move even if she tried.

At that moment, Adam came running back. ‘They’ll be here quick as they can. They said we’re to keep talking to her, and not to move her.’

Falling to his knees, he tenderly stroked his mother’s hair. ‘How did it happen, Mum? Can you hear me? Mum! Was it him who did this to you? Did he lose his temper again? Please, Mum, tell me what happened?’

Phil eased him away. ‘No, son. That’s not the way. For now, your mother needs gentle, encouraging words. I’m sure there’ll be time for questions later.’

Adam understood. ‘I’m sorry. She won’t tell, but I will. If they ask me, I’ll tell them how cruel he is.’

Crouching on the carpet, he kept his anxious gaze on his mother’s distorted face.

‘The ambulance should be here soon, Mum,’ he reassured her. ‘They said we had to keep talking to you. Me and Phil … we want you to listen, Mum. We want you to be all right, because if you aren’t all right I won’t know what to do. Please, Mum, try your very hardest. Just like you tell me to do, when I find my homework too difficult.’

Choking back his tears, he cast a forlorn look at Phil. ‘She will be all right, won’t she, Phil?’

‘We have to hope so, son.’ Realising that Peggy Carter’s life hung in the balance, Phil softly measured his words. ‘You can see for yourself. Your mother is badly hurt and there’s no use pretending otherwise, but she’s alive, and we need to be thankful for that. So, keep talking to her. If she can hear you, I’m sure she’ll do her utmost to stay with you.’

For the next few precious minutes, Adam continued to talk to his mother, about school, and how his day had been, but all the while his heart was heavy with fear for his mother and loathing of his father. He recalled the many times when he himself had been thrashed; for no other reason than he had missed a question in his homework, or his father demanded more of him than he could give, which was more often than not.

Other times, when he was in the study, struggling over the homework his father had set, he would hear his parents loudly arguing in the parlour. Often the arguments were followed by the swish of his father’s horse-whip, then his mother crying out in pain.

Minutes later his father, red-faced with anger, would storm out of the house. When Adam ran to his mother, she would quickly dry her eyes and reassure him that everything was all right, but it was not all right, and they both knew it.

In spite of her efforts to hide the bruises, Adam knew the truth. His father was a bully and a coward. This time, though, he had hurt her really badly, although she would not tell on him. She never did.

In that raw moment, Adam made himself a promise: that when he was old enough, and however long it took him, he would make his father pay.

Seeing her like this was all too much. ‘You won’t admit it, but I know he did this to you.’ His voice trembled. ‘One day, when I’m bigger, I’ll punish him, I will. You’ll see … I’ll make him pay for everything!’ He tried not to cry, but the sobs took hold of him and he couldn’t stop. ‘I hate him! I hate him!’

Deep inside, Peggy heard Adam’s angry words, and she feared for her child. Everything he said was true, but she could not let him be destroyed by the hatred he felt for his father.

With immense effort, and mustering every ounce of strength left in her, she whispered, ‘No …’ Her eyes flickered open to gaze on him lovingly. ‘Don’t … say that.’ Having made this huge effort she was now struggling to breathe.

Seeing this, Adam reluctantly gave his promise. ‘All right … ssh, Mum. Stay still. I won’t say it any more. I’m sorry, Mum.’ Ever so gently, he wrapped his arms round her neck and when she shivered, he backed away, sorry that he might have hurt her, and sorry he had worried her by the things he’d said.

Suddenly the high-pitched wailing of sirens filled the air.

‘They’re here!’ Phil scrambled to his feet to go to meet the ambulance crew. ‘Stay with her, son. Keep talking to her, but no questions. Just tell her the ambulance has arrived. Tell her she’ll be in good hands now.’

Adam tried his hardest to be brave. He was grateful that his mother would get help, yet he was terrified she might be crippled or made to stay a long time in hospital. She would be unhappy about that, because her greatest joy was walking the countryside, just the two of them together.

‘Move away, son,’ Phil urged him, as the ambulance men hurried in.

Adam backed away as they brought the stretcher forward. ‘I love you, Mum,’ he whispered. The tears made a bright trail down his face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I’m truly sorry …’

But he was not sorry about the promise he had made, to make his father pay for what he had done. When he was big enough, he would go after him, and when he found him, he would make sure to punish him.

No, he was not sorry for any of that. The only thing he was sorry for just now was having made this vow out loud, and making his mother anxious.

From the back of the stairway, he watched as they treated his mother to ease her pain. He saw them cut into the rungs of the stairway and tenderly lift her clear, before securing her to the stretcher. Then they carried her to the ambulance where they raised the stretcher to slide her gently inside. In that moment, she made a feeble cry for her son.

He wanted to go to her, but he was too afraid. What if she was calling for him so she could tell him she would never see him again? What if she was in terrible pain and he couldn’t stop it? What if …? What if …? Hopelessly mixed up inside, and more frightened than he had ever been in his young life, he took to his heels and ran.

Panic-stricken, he hid behind the shrubbery, where he sobbed as though his heart would break. ‘Don’t die, Mum,’ he whispered brokenly. ‘Please, Mum … don’t leave me.’

Realising the boy’s fears, Phil found him and lovingly drew him away. ‘I know she called for you, son, but she’s delirious. There is nothing you nor I can do for her. She’s getting the best care. If you want to go in the ambulance with your mum, you’d best be quick.’

‘Will you come too?’

‘I’m surprised you feel the need to ask.’ Phil was already hurrying him to the ambulance, where the attendants had executed the necessary safety procedures and were about to leave.

Phil and Adam climbed inside, and then they were swiftly away; the ambulance tearing along the lane with the sirens at full scream.

These fine, experienced men had seen it all before. They had learned to deal with desperate situations in a professional manner.

This particular call-out, however, was deeply disturbing. As they were both family men with young children, they found the boy’s distress difficult to deal with. The disclosure that it was the child himself who had discovered his mother lying bloodied and broken on the stairway was shocking. Such a discovery could prove to be the stuff of nightmares for years to come.

Another concern was their shared suspicions with regard to the ‘accident’ itself. In their considered experience, the woman’s extensive injuries did not appear to coincide with a tumble down the stairs.

For now though, getting her to hospital was their main priority.

Inside the ambulance, Adam sat quietly beside Phil, his attention riveted on his mum, and his eyes red and raw from crying. Every few minutes he would whisper to Phil, ‘She will be all right, won’t she?’ And Phil would pacify him as best he could, though secretly, he had his own doubts as to whether Peggy Carter could survive.

He wondered about Adam’s father, and the way he’d fled from the house like a guilty man. His instincts told him there was far more to Mrs Carter’s so-called accident than met the eye.

Throughout the journey, the medic remained by Peggy’s side, softly reassuring and constantly tending her while she drifted in and out of consciousness. Not once did he glance across to the two anxious figures seated on the small bench at the back of the ambulance. He had a job to do, and if there was the slightest hope that this patient might survive, then time was of the essence.

To Phil and Adam, the journey to the hospital seemed to have taken for ever, when in fact they were there in under an hour.

On arrival, the ambulance doors were thrown open and Phil and Adam scampered down onto the tarmac. The driver ran from his cab and climbed into the back, where the two men set about securing Peggy to the stretcher again. Phil and the boy waited anxiously, but it was only the briefest of moments before the two medics manhandled Peggy out of the ambulance. With one of them at each end of the stretcher and Peggy now deeply unconscious, they went at a run towards the hospital emergency doors where, having been forewarned, the medical staff were there to collect the patient and rush her straight to theatre.

While Peggy was hurried away, Adam and Phil were taken aside; though Adam tearfully insisted that he wanted to go with his mum. ‘Where is she?’ he wanted to know. ‘What have they done with my mum?’ Traumatised by the fear that he might never see her again, he called for her over and over.

The nurse gently assured him, ‘The doctors are helping your mother now. Don’t worry, she’s in safe hands, and they’ll come and tell you when you’re able to see her. Meantime, there is nothing you can do. She truly is being taken care of, so please … I know how hard it is, but you must try to be patient.’

She knew the boy might have a very long wait; especially since the message relayed from the ambulance crew to the hospital as they drove there had described the patient as having suffered life-threatening injuries.

‘Look, I’ll tell you what …’ She pointed to the little tuck cabin down the corridor. ‘If you go and see Mavis, she might let you have a bottle of pop. Tell her Nurse Riley sent you, then she won’t charge you a single penny for it.’

Phil understood her kindly motive. ‘That’s a good idea, Adam,’ he encouraged the boy. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t mind a bottle of pop myself.’

With sorry eyes, Adam glanced at the green baize door through which they had taken his mother. ‘All right then.’ Reluctantly, he gave a little nod. ‘But you have to promise you’ll wait here, Phil. You won’t leave me, will you?’

Phil choked back a tear. ‘Me? Leave you?’ He cradled the boy’s face in his hands. ‘I would never leave you, never in a million years!’ Digging into his trouser pocket he withdrew a shiny coin, which he handed to the boy. ‘There! You run off and see Mavis … there’s a good fellow.’

‘Your grandfather is right,’ Nurse Riley said. ‘Mavis will be pleased to see you.’

Phil and the boy exchanged curious glances at her reference to Phil as ‘your grandfather’, but wisely, neither of them made mention of her remark.

A short time later, when they had drunk their pop and were seated in comfortable chairs in a small room off the main corridor, the silence between them was heavy.

All they could think of was Adam’s mother, who lay just a short distance away, fighting for her life.

Every few minutes either Adam or Phil would go into the corridor and look to see if there was anyone they could speak to about how the boy’s mother was doing, but there was no one about, except a man in a long white coat, in a great hurry, and a nurse rushing about with a trolley, piled high with newly laundered linen.

‘They all have jobs to do,’ Phil reassured Adam. ‘I know you’re worried, but we have to be thankful that the doctors are looking after her. No doubt someone will come out soon and tell us what’s happening. Until then we’ll have to be patient.’

Adam was desperately concerned for his mother. He was also concerned about what might happen to him. He reasoned that she would have to stay in hospital for at least a short while. His mother told him long ago that she had been adopted, and that when she met his father, her adoptive parents took an instant dislike to him, and forbade her to see him.

There was a huge row. Having just turned eighteen, she defied them and married his father without their blessing. Shortly after that, her parents emigrated to Australia, and she eventually lost all contact with them.

That was all Adam knew of his grandparents on his mother’s side.

The only mention of his father’s parents was during a heated argument between his own mother and father. He had learned that his father’s older sister and both his parents were devoutly religious, while Adam’s own father grew increasingly rebellious against their rigid and highly disciplined way of life. There were constant rows until, in his early twenties, he cut himself adrift from his family.

Now he had no idea where they were, nor did he want to know, because as far as he was concened, they did not exist.

During the many rows with his own wife, he claimed that she was much like his own mother; that she was domineering and saw no worth in him. He argued that instead of being grateful for the good life he provided for them both, she and Adam took him for granted. During his wild, unpredictable rants, he said they were like strangers to him; that they darkened his life and gave him nothing, yet they continued to feed off him like parasites.

He also threatened Adam’s mother that if she ever mentioned his parents and sister again, she would be made to regret it. So, knowing from experience that he was more than capable of hurting her, Peggy wisely never again spoke of them.

Once, when Adam was caught eavesdropping outside the parlour, he was punished with the bunched knuckles of his father’s fist across his head ‘for hiding behind the door and listening in on a private conversation’, he was told.

Now, with his father gone, hopefully for ever, he felt able to speak out.

‘Phil?’

‘Yes, son?’

‘Can I tell you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘All right then.’ In a whisper, and with a wary eye on the door in case his father should suddenly burst in, Adam told Phil everything.

He described the awful rows and the things he had learned about his father’s family; that his father hated his sister and his parents, and had cut them out of his life. ‘He said they were wicked, spiteful people, and that they made his life a misery, and now I’m frightened they might come and take me away, to look after me until Mum’s better. But what if they never bring me back? I’m frightened, Phil. I don’t want them to come and get me.’

Phil took it all in and when Adam fell silent, looking up at him with fear in his eyes, he assured him, ‘If they’re as bad as all that, they’ll not be allowed to come for you.’

Adam then told Phil of his grandparents on his mother’s side. ‘Mum said her parents wanted her to go to Australia with them, but she didn’t want to, and so they fell out and she left home. Then a while ago, some old neighbour told Mum that they’d gone to Australia, but she didn’t know where, and Mum never heard from them again.’

‘I see.’ Phil nodded thoughtfully. ‘By! That’s a sorry situation and no mistake. So, it seems you’ve no close family other than your own parents, eh?’

Because Adam was already in pieces, Phil made no mention of his deep concern with regard to the boy’s care. In the light of what he had just learned, he feared there could be all manner of trouble ahead.

‘Phil?’ Adam grew concerned when the older man lapsed into deep thought. ‘Phil!’

Brought sharply out of his reverie, Phil put on a smile. ‘Sorry, son … I was just dwelling on what you said: no aunts nor uncles, nor family of any kind, except for your parents. By! It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ Fearing that Peggy Carter might not survive, he was deeply anxious for the boy’s welfare.

Adam voiced his own concerns. ‘If Mum has to stay in hospital for a long time, I don’t want to stay in the house all on my own, so will you please stay with me until Mum gets home?’

Taken aback by the request, Phil wisely avoided answering directly. ‘Aw, look, son. It’s not good to get ahead of yourself like that. Let’s just wait and see how things go, and then we’ll decide what’s best to do.’

Adam had another question: ‘If you don’t like to live in my house, can I come and stay with you then?’ Growing tearful, he finished lamely, ‘Please say yes, Phil, ’cause there’s nobody to look after me until Mum comes home.’

Phil glanced about nervously. ‘Ssh!’ He pressed his finger to his lips. ‘It’s best not to discuss these things just yet. Let’s leave it for now, son. Let’s wait and see what the doctor says, then you and me … we’ll sort summat out. Try not to worry, and the less you say just now, the better.’

‘All right, Phil, but if you stay with me at the house, I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do my homework, and if you want, you can fetch your little dog to stay with us.’

Phil’s heart went out to the boy. He knew the situation could never work, and besides, it wasn’t right – not for him and not for Adam. And yet he was made to ponder what alternative there might be.

‘Listen to me, son …’ Sidling closer to Adam, he spoke in a whisper. ‘It seems they think I’m your granddad, but you and I know that is not the case.’

‘We don’t need to tell them, though, do we, Phil? You can still pretend to be my granddad … until Mum comes home.’ His voice shook with emotion. ‘Please, Phil … please!’

Phil felt torn. ‘I’m sorry, son,’ he said, being sensible, ‘I don’t know as I can move into your father’s house. It would be wrong of me, and what if your father comes back? Like as not he’ll have me arrested, and who could blame him?’

‘All right! I’ll come to your house and stay with you.’

‘Aw, son … I don’t know.’ Phil was growing more unsettled by the minute. ‘It’s a bad situation. I don’t want to think on it right now, not until we see how it goes with your mother.’

‘This is all Father’s fault, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know, son. I’m not altogether party to the facts.’ Wisely, Phil was reluctant to commit himself to such far-reaching accusations.

‘It’s true, Phil!’ Adam spelled it out: ‘He’s always hitting her, and she never tells anyone. And now he’s hurt her so bad, he’s got frightened and run away. He should be locked up for ever!’

Phil didn’t really know what to believe, except what he had seen for himself today. And, talking about his father’s brutal treatment of his mother, Adam seemed genuinely afraid.

Phil now voiced his own concerns. ‘There’s a possibility that you could be wrong about what happened. Maybe they had an argument and there really was a terrible accident, and if that’s the case, your father will be worried sick when he gets home. I know one thing for sure, though, he will not be best pleased to see me and my dog taking up residence in his house. After all, I’m not even a relative. I’m just the driver of the school bus who’s got himself caught up in a shocking accident—’

‘It wasn’t an accident! He did it, I know he did!’

‘Sssh!’ Phil instructed Adam, slightly unnerved. ‘Like I say, just now, it’s best not to talk about it too much. Let’s just wait and see how things go. We’ll have a better picture of the situation once the doctor tells us what’s happening. Until then, however difficult it is, we have to be patient.’ He looked the boy in the eye. ‘Agreed?’

With a reluctant nod of the head, Adam had little choice but to agree. ‘When Mum comes home, everything will be all right, though, won’t it, Phil?’

‘Let’s hope so, eh?’ Phil was well aware of the seriousness of this situation.

‘Adam?’ Phil asked.

‘Yes, Phil?’ Adam looked up.

‘I have an idea to pass the time.’ The child’s small, anxious face made Phil immensely sad. ‘Do you know what I was just thinking?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I was thinking how you and me could say a little prayer for your mum. What d’you think?’

‘Oh, yes, please, Phil, I’d like that.’ The tears brimmed over. ‘Do you think it might help Mum to get better? I so much want her to come home. She will, won’t she, Phil?’ Throwing his arms round Phil’s neck, he hugged him so hard that Phil found it difficult to breathe.

Phil held him at arm’s length. ‘Listen to me, Adam. Even if we say a prayer it doesn’t mean that everything will come right. It doesn’t always work like that. All I’m saying is, at certain bad times in my own life, I’ve always found a deal of comfort in saying a little prayer; hoping that somebody up there in the Heavens might be listening, and that somehow they would try and help. The thing is, sometimes, however much they might want to help, they just can’t do it, and we will never know the reason for that. D’you understand what I’m saying?’

‘If you said a prayer, why did they not help you?’

Phil took a deep breath. ‘Well, it seems they weren’t able to give what I really asked for, but they did help me … a little.’

‘In what way?’

Phil was beginning to wish he had never started this, because the painful memories were flooding back. ‘Well, you see, when my dear wife was very ill, I prayed for the Lord to make her better …’ Composing himself, he went on in subdued tones: ‘Sadly, my prayers were not answered, because that was not to be. Thankfully, though, they did stop her pain and I was grateful for that. Maybe she had to leave me, because she had important work to do in Heaven. Maybe someone up there needed her far more than I did.’ Though he could not imagine how that might be, because for almost thirty years she was his world. His reason for living.

And now he had to stop tormenting himself, or the boy would see him cry and that would never do.

Adam’s angry voice penetrated his thoughts: ‘So, you said a prayer and asked for her to get better, then she died and you were sad. I think that was cruel.’

Phil nodded. ‘It was cruel for me, yes, because I miss her every waking moment. But in a way, it was not too cruel for her, because you see, she was no longer in pain. Maybe she would never have got better, and that was why the Good Lord stopped her suffering. Yes, you’re right in one way, because she was taken away from me, and I miss her. But I have so many wonderful memories to keep me warm.’

‘You loved her very much, didn’t you, Phil?’

Phil simply nodded.

‘Did you love her as much as I love my mum?’

‘Oh, yes. I’m sure I did. Y’see, we were together for a very long time.’

‘So, did she say a prayer as well?’

‘Well, I don’t know for sure, because if she did send up a prayer, she never told me. Maybe her pain was so bad, she prayed for it to be gone, and in their wisdom, and because it was her that was in pain and not me, they decided to grant her wish instead of mine. That’s fair enough … don’t you think?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Me neither, son, but we have to believe it was the only way.’

His life was not the same since losing his one and only love, and as long as he lived, it would never be the same again. Like it or not, he had to accept the situation.

He returned to his question: ‘So, knowing that you can’t always have your wish granted, do you still want us to say a little prayer for your mum?’

The boy smiled through his tears. ‘Yes, but I only know the one that Mum used to say before I went to sleep.’

‘Right, then!’ Phil was glad to have diverted the boy’s attention. ‘Only you’ll need to tell me what it is.’

Adam remembered it well. ‘When I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep …’

‘Ah, yes, that’s a good prayer. I like that. We’ll say it together … quietly.’

As they shared the prayer, they had no idea that someone else was listening. Someone who had also heard every word of their conversation.

An auxilary nurse had stopped to stack the linen cupboard next to the visitors’ room where Phil and Adam were quietly talking. The dividing wall was thin and she had innocently overheard every word of their intimate conversation.

Some of what she had overheard was shocking, especially regarding the father. Then the fact that the boy had no relatives, except a brutal father who had left the mother battered … seemingly to within an inch of her life. Unbelievably, after the event, he had callously abandoned his son to whatever fate awaited him; knowing he had no one to turn to.

Having been made aware of this important information, which she suspected may not have been made available to the duty nurse, she was unsure of what to do. Eventually, torn between compassion and her sworn responsibility, she concluded that there was really no choice at all. She softly closed the wide cupboard doors and made her way down the corridor at a smart pace. In view of Mrs Carter’s life-threatening injuries, she realised there was not a moment to lose.

As the auxilary nurse arrived at the door of the main office, the matron entered the room where Phil and Adam were impatiently waiting for news.

‘How is she?’ Phil enquired.

‘She’s out of surgery,’ the matron said. ‘Mr Hendon is a very reputable surgeon. I can assure you no one could have done better. He will answer all your questions, I’m sure, but for the moment he’s been called away to advise on another emergency. He needs to speak with you, and of course he’s aware you will have questions, so I’m sure he won’t be too long.’

‘Where’s my mum? Can I see her? Can she talk to me?’ Anxious for information, Adam pushed between the matron and Phil, his questions coming thick and fast. ‘Please, Nurse, can I just see her? Is she awake?’

In a reassuring manner, the matron informed him, ‘Your mother is out of surgery and in the recovery room. She’s tired and a bit groggy, which is understandable. A moment ago she opened her eyes and asked for you, so I do believe it would do her a world of good to see you. But you must not excite her, and you can only stay for a minute or two.’

Looking up at Phil, she explained, ‘She desperately needs to rest, but as she’s so very anxious to see her son, the surgeon has agreed for you both to visit, with myself in attendance.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You understand, she is not long out of major surgery. So when the nurse beckons you away, you will be expected to leave immediately.’

Nervously, Phil dared to ask, ‘But she did come through the surgery well, didn’t she?’

The matron glanced again at the boy, then she gave Phil an aside look that made his heart sink; for it seemed to warn him that things had not gone as well as they had hoped. ‘Like I say, the surgeon will speak with you presently.’

As she turned to leave, the door opened and the surgeon walked in.

A man of impressive stature and authority, he greeted Phil and Adam with a warm, sincere smile. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you both waiting, but I was called away.’

Phil’s questions were direct: ‘How is she … really? Are you concerned, or did it all go as well as you would have liked?’

Aware that Adam was also awaiting his answer, the surgeon chose his words carefully. ‘As you must understand, there were major injuries to deal with, and yes, of course there were some very worrying moments, but she put up a good fight and we must pray that she makes a good recovery.’

He now directed his advice to the boy. ‘Your mother is very weak. You must not expect to be with her for longer than a few minutes, and when the nurse indicates that it’s time to leave, you must do as she asks. You do understand, don’t you?’

Even though he ached to see his mother, Adam wanted what was best for her. ‘Yes, sir, I understand. I just need to see her.’

‘And so you will.’ He turned to the nurse. ‘Matron, please will you take these gentlemen along to see Mrs Carter?’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you. Oh, and I’m afraid I need to commandeer two of your nurses.’

Matron pursed her lips in disapproval, but her smile soon reassured him. ‘As long as I get them back.’

‘Don’t worry.’ After working together for many years, these two understood each other.

Before excusing himself from their presence, he turned to Adam. ‘From the little your mother could tell us, she lost her footing and tumbled all the way down the stairs. Did you see her fall?’

Adam glanced nervously at Phil before answering, ‘No, sir. I wasn’t there. I came home from school and found her lying near the bottom of the steps.’

‘I see.’ He took a breath. ‘Your mother will be pleased to see you, but she’ll be a little groggy from the anaesthetic. She may not be able to say much, but she will hear you when you talk to her … Remember, a few minutes only.’

‘Will my mum be strong enough to come home soon?’ Adam asked.

The surgeon gave the only answer he could. ‘We can’t say at this time, because she still has a long way to go. Your mother was very badly injured, but I can assure you, we have done everything possible to help her. I’m sure your mum wants to get home to you as soon as possible. Oh, and you mustn’t be too frightened when you see her. She’s surrounded by machines; all there to assist her recovery. Both her arms are wrapped in plaster casts, and she carries a great number of nasty bruises.’ He deliberately made no mention of the numerous internal injuries; some of which would take many months to repair.

He placed his hands on Adam’s small shoulders. ‘I’m telling you now so that you won’t be alarmed when you see her. All right?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Adam was shaken, but determined. ‘When she gets better, she’ll be coming home, won’t she …? When her bones mend and all that?’

The surgeon tried to put it tactfully. ‘We can’t really say how long it will take her to recover. Your mum has been through a shocking ordeal, and hours of major surgery, and now it’s imperative that she gets rest and care.’

‘Then she’ll be all right, won’t she?’ Adam was relentless in his need for reassurance. ‘We’ll be able to take her home soon, won’t we?’

The surgeon was equally determined not to raise the boy’s hopes. ‘In these early stages of recovery, we must not even think of her as being in a hurry to get home. I’m sorry, I know it’s hard for you, but you have to try to understand.’

Tearful now, Adam appealed to Phil. ‘Tell him, Phil. I want my mum to come home really soon. I’ll look after her, you know I will.’

Phil nodded. ‘I know you would, son, but like the doctor says, your mum needs time to recover where the doctors and nurses can keep an eye on her. And besides, I’ll bring you to see her every day. Meantime, she’ll want you to be attending school and trying to get on with your life as normal. You know that, don’t you?’

Reassured by Phil’s persuasive remarks, the boy looked up at the surgeon. ‘Please, can I see my mum now?’

‘Of course.’ Being a family man, Mr Hendon was full of sympathy for the boy. ‘Matron will take you along.’

The surgeon departed ahead of them, while directly behind him, Matron led Phil and Adam along the same corridor, to the recovery room.

Throughout the long, worrying walk, Adam kept his gaze to the floor, while Phil looked ahead, his mind troubled by the look in the surgeon’s eyes when asked about Peggy Carter’s condition.

He watched as Mr Hendon, still ahead of them, turned into what looked like the main office. His interest was heightened when he drew alongside the office and he saw the surgeon earnestly talking with two official-looking people.

As Phil glanced in, one of the officials caught sight of them passing by the window. He then beckoned his colleague, and she looked out of the window, directly at young Adam.

Phil’s concern intensified. Discreetly, he put his hand on Adam’s shoulder and hurried him along.

‘Who were those people?’ Adam asked. ‘Why were they looking at me?’

‘They probably heard our clattering feet hurrying along, and were curious,’ he reassured Adam.

Phil, however, felt decidedly nervous. He was in no doubt that the officials were interested in the boy. Also, they had appeared to be engaged in deep conversation with the surgeon. Maybe it had nothing to do with Adam or his mother, but Phil had a bad feeling, which he could not shake off.

He glanced at the boy. Such an innocent; his young heart filled with loathing for his cowardly father who had left such a trail of devastation in his wake. And now, he was so afraid his mother would never get well again. Yet through all his crippling unhappiness, Adam gave no thought to himself. Nor did he realise the precarious position he had been put in by his father’s abandonment of him.

At the door of the recovery room, Matron peered in through the glass panel. ‘Don’t forget, a few minutes, that’s all,’ she warned.

After Adam gave an appreciative nod, she turned the handle and pushed open the door to usher them inside.

Phil and the boy were shocked to see the small, vulnerable figure lying in the high bed, her face turned away and her two arms wrapped in thick, stiff plaster. There was a kind of pulley over the top of the bed, with support-joints stretching down; two ends attached to the root of the pulley, and the other ends attached to the plaster-encased limbs, which were very slightly elevated above the patient.

Phil’s interest was immediately drawn to the heart-tracking machine.

‘Carefully now.’ Matron accompanied Adam to the bedside, where she sat him down on a chair right beside the bed and close to his mother, whose badly bruised face was turned towards him. She appeared restless, intermittently shifting her head back and forth, and making a low, whining sound, much like an animal in pain.

Unsettled by this sound, Phil fixed his troubled gaze on the heart monitor; he was greatly relieved to see the screen showed a steady beat.

Taking a seat beside the boy, Phil rested his arm on the back of Adam’s chair, while his sorry gaze also travelled the visible dark bruises on Peggy Carter’s body. Deeply unsettled, she appeared to be unaware of their presence.

‘Mum?’ With a shaky voice, Adam called out twice. ‘Mum, it’s Adam. I’ve come to see you.’ Reaching up, the boy tenderly clasped the tip of his mother’s fingers where they jutted from the plaster cast. ‘Phil’s here too, Mum. He’s been looking after me.’

When the tears rolled down his face and his voice began to tremble, Phil slid a comforting arm around him. ‘Easy, son. You remember what the doctor said: your mum might not be able to speak, but she might possibly be able to hear you. So, just try and tell her the things that are in your heart. Let her know that everything is all right, that she’s not to worry about you. And tell her you’ll be here to see her often, until she’s well enough to come home.’

So that was what Adam did. He told his mother how very much he loved her. ‘I’ll be so glad if you can get better really quickly, and then you’ll be able to come home and we’ll be together, and I’ll take care of you until you’re strong again.’

Both Phil and Adam were astonished when her eyes flickered open and she looked straight at her son. Her lips were moving, but when she attempted to speak, the mumbled words were lost in a choking sound.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Appealing to Phil, Adam began to panic.

Quickly now, Matron crossed to the bed. Leaning to examine her patient, she told them, ‘It’s all right. She’s trying to say something, but she’s not yet fully awake.’ She glanced up at Phil. ‘Another moment, and you must take Adam back so she can get her rest.’

As Matron moved away to check the machine readings, Peggy attempted to speak again. This time, Adam drew closer, trying to decipher the incoherent whispers.

With great tenderness, he wrapped his hand about her fingers. For a moment he was silent, painfully reliving what had gone before. Presently, with his other hand he reached out to stroke her thick, wayward hair. ‘I love you, Mum. I want you to come home, so please get better soon.’

Peggy heard his every word, and she so wanted to rest, but she had to know first. In a snatched breath, she asked him, ‘Is he … here?’

Relieved to hear her voice, Adam leaned closer, his voice small. ‘If you mean Father, he ran away like a coward, and he never came back.’ Anger consumed him. ‘He did this to you, didn’t he?’

‘Sssh!’ Her voice shivered with fear.

Exhausted, she momentarily closed her eyes. She was not afraid for herself, but for her only child. She needed to take care of him, this precious boy, who had seen bad things that no child should ever see.

‘Mum!’ Adam leaned closer. ‘Don’t be afraid, because if he comes back, I won’t let him in. Phil’s taking care of me, and we’ll be all right till you come home. We really will …’

When she made a slow, deliberate movement to touch his face, he realised she was anxious to say something else.

‘Don’t talk, Mum. It will be all right,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll take care of everything until you get home. If he comes back … I’ll tell them what he’s like …’

Deeply distressed, Peggy’s furtive whispers were for her son’s ears only. ‘No. Don’t say … that.’

‘But he hurt you, Mum. He did!’

‘Please … promise me.’ Exhausted, she fell back into her pillow.

‘All right, Mum.’ Adam stood up and, gently laying his face on hers, he reluctantly put her mind at rest. ‘I won’t tell,’ he whispered, ‘I promise …’ He found it hard to believe it was what she wanted, but he would keep his promise.

All he needed was for his mum to get better.

‘Love you … Son.’ Relief shadowed her face and now she was silent again.

‘Mum?’ Cradling her face, he was shocked at how cold she was. ‘Mum!’

There was no response.

‘Mum! Wake up … Mum!’

Matron hurried across the room. One glance at Peggy and she pushed the panic button. ‘Take the boy away now!’ she said to Phil.

Glancing at Peggy’s face, Phil was afraid. ‘Come on, son. We’d best do as Matron says.’ Deeply shaken, he led Adam away. As they hurried out the door, a number of medical staff were coming up the corridor at the run.

Keeping a strong hold on Adam, Phil quickened their steps. He did not want even to consider what might be going on in the recovery room.

Quickly now, he took Adam down the long corridor and into the waiting area where they had previously been.

Adam fought against him. ‘I have to go back … my mum needs me.’

‘They’re taking care of her, son.’ Phil kept a tight hold on Adam. ‘They’ll let us know how she is, soon enough.’ After seeing her so pale and empty, Phil secretly feared the worst.

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE VISITOR’S room, Phil anxiously paced the floor. Occasionally, he paused to look through the window into the corridor, but there was no one in sight.

He turned his gaze to Adam, who was curled up on the couch, quietly sobbing.

With every minute that passed, Phil began to lose faith, though he kept his disturbing thoughts to himself.

Presently, he glanced across at the boy, who was quieter now, deep in thought. Phil’s heart went out to him. Again, he made his way over to him. ‘I know you want news of your mum,’ he started, ‘but we must try and be patient, however hard it might be.’

After what seemed an age, there was a tap on the door, and the surgeon entered, his face sombre.

‘What happened? Is she all right?’ Phil asked.

Simultaneously, Adam ran over, asking anxiously, ‘Is my mum all right?’

The surgeon quietly suggested to Phil, ‘It might be best if I have a quiet word with you first.’

Sensing the tense atmosphere, and made increasingly nervous by the knowing glances that passed between the two men, Adam backed away. ‘What’s happened? Why won’t you let me go to my mum?’

Moved to tears, Phil took hold of him. ‘I’m sorry, son, but you can’t go to your mother,’ he said gently. Though well aware that it was Adam’s right to see her, Phil realized it would not be wise. After all, he was just a child and, at the moment, dangerously vulnerable.

‘Why can’t I see her?’ All of Adam’s instincts told him the awful truth. In his heart and soul, he knew she had left him. ‘Get off me!’ His screams reverberated through the room. He fought Phil off and would have run from the room, but Phil caught him and held him.

‘Listen to me, son.’ His kind voice was calming. ‘D’you recall what I told you … about my darling wife and how the only thing I wanted in the whole wide world was for her to be all right?’

Tearfully, Adam nodded.

‘And do you recall how, for reasons we may never understand, the Good Lord took her all the same?’

Another reluctant nod.

‘Well, then, I’ve been thinking. Maybe your mum, like my dear wife, could never be made better on this earth. But up there, in God’s Heaven, she doesn’t feel pain any more; she’s comfortable and at peace, and though you will always miss her, she’ll be watching over you. She will never leave you.’

Deeply moved by Phil’s gentle words, the surgeon cautiously approached Adam. ‘I’m so very sorry. I know how hard it must be. I can promise you, we did everything humanly possible for your mother, but her injuries were many and her heart was not strong enough to carry her through.’

Adam looked up, his eyes marbled with grief. He began to sob, and soon it was an avalanche of grief. The devastating loss of his mother and the all-consuming hatred for the man who hurt her could no longer be contained.

In a trembling voice, he murmured, ‘One day, when I’m bigger, he’ll pay for what he did.’

‘Who will, Adam?’ Mr Hendon probed for the truth. ‘Do you want to tell us about this person … the one who must “pay for what he did”? Adam, can you tell me who you mean?’

Adam looked away. The surgeon’s words were a timely caution to him, for he knew he must never tell. Not because he didn’t want to, but because his mother had made him promise not to.

Just then the door opened and a nurse entered. After she had imparted her message to the surgeon, he politely excused himself. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you for a while, but please wait here. Someone will be along in a moment to have a word with you.’

They watched him leave.

‘Phil?’ Adam’s voice trembled.

‘Yes, son?’

‘When the person comes, will they let me see my mum?’ He felt as though his world had fallen apart. It was a strange and frightening feeling. ‘I have to tell her something.’

Phil knew that feeling, and he saw it in the boy’s face now. ‘Adam, listen to me.’

‘No! I don’t want to.’ Tearful, Adam turned away.

Phil persevered. ‘Think about what you’re asking, son. I know how much you want to see her, but it isn’t right for you just now. Later, when everything is in order, I’m sure you can see your mother … if you are still of the same mind.’

‘Please, Phil, I need to see my mum!’

Phil tried gently to dissuade him. ‘I do understand, but do you really think your mother would want you to see her now? Or do you think she’d rather you remembered your last conversation with her, when she was still able to tell you how much she loved you? Don’t you think she would feel your sadness, if you were to see her now?’

Phil’s wise words reached home. After what seemed an age, the boy took a long, deep breath and tried to be the man his mum would want him to be. ‘Is my mum really safe now, Phil?’ He needed reassurance.

Phil promised him that she was safe.

Adam accepted what Phil had told him, though he found it incredibly difficult to believe that he would never again see his mother, never again hear her voice. Never again hear her laugh, nor run with her across the fields. In his heart he could see her beautiful smile, and that funny way she had of wrinkling her nose when she laughed out loud.

Suddenly the awful truth began to sink in, and the enormity of it all was too much for him to bear.

In a voice that was almost inaudible, he whispered to Phil, ‘I’m really sad.’ Winding his arms round Phil’s wide waist, he confessed brokenly, ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Aw, son, we can none of us do anything, because when the Good Lord calls us home, we have to go.’ Phil held the boy tight to him. ‘But you’re not on your own, son, because I’m here for you. If I’m able, I will always be here for you.’

Thankful that he had Phil, the boy confided in a whisper, ‘Phil, I don’t know if she heard me promise. I need her to know that I made the promise.’

Choking back his emotion, Phil told him, ‘Don’t you worry about that, because she heard it all right – I heard it too – but y’know, son, sometimes we make promises and then, later, we regret them. You might need to think about that particular promise, the one you made to your mother. Maybe you won’t want to think about it just yet. But maybe later, when you’re not so very sad.’

Adam was resolute. ‘If Mum had not made me promise, I would have told them everything … about how he hurt her, time after time, hitting her and making her cry. I hate him for what he did, but she didn’t want me to tell. Why did she not want me to tell?’

Phil measured his words carefully. ‘Because she loved you so much, she did not want you to do something that might hurt you in the long run. I believe that was why she asked you to make that promise.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I think she wanted you not to tell, because if you told, then you would have so many awkward questions to answer. It would be a nasty business, with you caught up in it.’

Leaning forward, Phil placed his hands either side of Adam’s face. ‘All you need to know is that your mother loved you, and that no one will ever be able to hurt her again.’

Looking into Phil’s kind, weathered face, Adam saw such honesty.

‘Phil?’

‘Yes, son?’

‘She’s died, hasn’t she?’

‘Yes, son.’

‘Has she gone to the same place as your wife?’

‘Yes, I’m sure she has.’

‘Will they be friends?’

‘I would like to think so.’

‘But I’d rather my mum could be here with me, because then, when I get older, I could keep her safe always.’

‘Ah, but that’s not your job, son, because now she’s in the safest place of all. Your mum was an angel on earth, but angels belong in Heaven. She’ll be well looked after there.’

‘I want her back, Phil. I miss her … I really miss her.’ Suddenly the full truth had hit home. He could no longer be brave; and his grief was overwhelming. Hiding himself in Phil’s musty old coat, he sobbed as though his heart would break.

Holding him close, Phil took him to the couch, where he sat beside him, holding him until he sobbed himself to sleep.

A short time later, Matron arrived. On seeing the boy asleep on the couch, she went out and returned with a fleecy blanket, which she handed to Phil.

She watched him wrap it around Adam before quietly informing him, ‘I’m afraid we have to discuss official matters.’ She beckoned Phil to the other side of the room, lowering her voice as she told him, ‘I am led to understand that you are not the grandfather after all. Is that true?’

Knowing he must, Phil told her his name and the whole story: how he had dropped Adam from the school bus and walked home with him down the lane; how he was on his way back to his bus when he heard the boy shouting. ‘In a shocking state, he was, finding his mother like that, and his father running off like a spineless coward. I don’t know if it was the father who hurt her, but Adam seems convinced of it.’

‘So, why did you not inform us of these circumstances right away?’

‘I gave as much information as I could, but it was your staff who chose to believe I was his grandfather, and besides, there were more urgent matters to deal with at the time, as you well know.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but since we have become aware of the truth, I’m afraid it was our duty to call in the authorities.’

‘What authorities?’ Phil recalled the officials in the office, and all his fears returned. ‘Look, Matron, I make no apologies for letting you believe that I was his grandfather, because as far as I’m aware, he’s got no one else.’

‘I see.’ As a woman, Matron was deeply sympathetic, but duty was her priority, along with the boy’s welfare.

She explained, ‘In the light of what we now know, this is a very serious situation. The boy’s mother has died under suspicious circumstances, and the father has run away. Moreover, we are led to understand there are no close relatives at hand to take care of the boy.’

‘I’ll take care of him then. At least until the in-laws can be found.’

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think that will be an option.’

‘So, what will happen to him?’

‘That’s for the authorities to decide.’

Before he could answer, she left with the parting words, ‘You do seem to have his interests at heart, and he obviously trusts you. If you could please continue to keep an eye on him, I’ll be back presently.’

When she had gone, Phil paced the floor. This is a sorry state of affairs and no mistake, he thought, walking over to where Adam was sleeping. I can’t imagine what might happen to you now, son. He gazed down on the boy and he shook his head in despair. No family to speak of, and no one but me to stand by you.

He understood the gravity of the situation. Unless Adam’s father was found there was little hope of getting the child home. Possibly not even then.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, he sat down in a chair, laid himself back and closed his weary eyes.

Some few minutes later the nurse arrived with two other people.

Phil clambered out of the chair, one eye shut and the other on the boy. He still clung to the hope that, one way or another, he might yet be able to take the boy home.

‘These people need to speak with you,’ the nurse advised him. Having waved the visitors forward, she went to sit by Adam. When in his sleep he occasionally whimpered in distress, she tenderly lulled him quiet again.

Phil had been greatly unnerved at the sight of the two very officious-looking people standing before him. The woman was middle-aged, dressed in a dark two-piece. The man was older, serious-looking, smart in light grey jacket and black trousers. He also carried a document case. They were the people Phil had seen in the office earlier.

The woman introduced herself and her colleague: ‘My name is Miss Benson, and this is Mr Norman. We’re here on behalf of Child Welfare and Social Services.’ Her gaze shifted to Adam.

Phil had already guessed at their reason for being there, and he expected the worst. ‘Child Welfare, eh? And may I ask, what it is you want from us?’

‘I understand you are Phil Wallis?’

‘That’s right.’

‘You accompanied Adam and his mother, yes?’

‘I did.’

‘Well, Mr Wallis, first, I apologise for all the questions.’ She paused to glance at the sleeping boy. ‘Please be assured, we’re not here to cause distress at this unhappy time, but having been made aware of some rather unsettling issues, we’re duty-bound to examine the facts.’

Phil was already on the defensive. ‘Well then, I’ll explain the “facts” to you, shall I?’ He pointed to Adam. ‘That poor child there has just lost his mother in the cruellest way imaginable. His father’s run off and the boy thinks the world has come to an end. I would not describe that as being an “unhappy time”. I would call that catastrophic, wouldn’t you?’

‘Well, yes, of course. As you say … but as I’ve explained, we have a job to do, and in view of the notification we received, we will first need to clarify the details of your relationship with the boy.’ Without waiting for Phil to respond, Miss Benson plucked a black notepad from her document case.

After quickly scanning her own notes, she had a number of questions, which she put to Phil in a quiet manner, being acutely aware that Adam could wake at any moment. ‘If you could again confirm that you are Phil Wallis, and that you are no relation to Adam Carter.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she seemed genuinely so, ‘but I need you, please, to go through what happened.’

Phil was irritated. ‘Why can’t you let me get him home and we can answer your questions there?’ He lowered his voice to an angry whisper. ‘What good will it do Adam, sitting here just yards from where his mother lies dead? For pity’s sake, let me get him home. I can assure you, neither me nor the boy is about to leave the country!’

‘I understand your anxiety, Mr Wallis. Believe me, we also have Adam’s best interests at heart. So, if you could, please, quickly run through the events that brought you and Adam here …? Once we know exactly what the situation is, we can then decide which course of action to take.’

Phil had no doubt about what she meant. These were official people, and he appreciated that their specific task was to protect children from harm. If they decided Adam needed taking into care, temporarily or otherwise, there would be nothing that he or anyone else could do to stop them. Especially considering not only the seriousness of events, but the fact that he himself was neither a relative nor even a long-term friend. He was merely the driver of the school bus; in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Miss Benson now casually informed him, ‘Oh, and incidentally, because of the information we received, the police have been notified. I understand, they are on their way as we speak.’

Her serious-faced companion, Mr Norman, now took a step forward. ‘Of course, the father will obviously need to answer to the police. Adam, however, will initially come under our jurisdiction.’ Gesturing to a nearby chair, he suggested, ‘Maybe you would care to sit down, while we take you through the procedure?’

Phil flatly refused to sit down. ‘Ask your questions.’

‘Firstly, as we’ve already established that you are not Adam Carter’s grandfather, can you please explain how you came to be here, with the boy?’

Phil explained, ‘I drive the school bus and have done these many years. I had already dropped all the other children off, and as Adam was the last, I decided to walk him up the lane to his house. When we got to the gate, I saw the man I assumed to be his father; he came rushing out of the house, and stood on the porch. I greeted him cordially, but he made no reply.’

He paused before confiding, ‘It didn’t bother me that the boy’s father chose to ignore me; he’s got a reputation of being a miserable sod, to say the least. Anyway, thinking the boy would be safe enough with his father, I took my leave of them.’ He relived the scene in his mind.

‘Please, go on.’

‘Well, I was on my way back down the lane, when I heard Mr Carter yelling at Adam. Then all of a sudden this car sped past me. Seeing as it was the very same car that was parked in the drive, I thought it must be Adam’s father. Whoever it was, they must have taken leave of their senses, tearing down that narrow lane like a bat out of hell! Splashed mud all over my trousers, so he did, damned lunatic!’

‘What did you do then?’

‘Well, what else could I do but go back and find out why the boy was now calling. I found him in the lane – crying and shaking he was – and then I went back to the house with him and saw his mother, all broken and twisted at the bottom of the stairs. By, she was in a terrible way; she needed help, and quick. So, I did what needed doing: I sent Adam to call for an ambulance, while I sat and talked to his mother. I didn’t even know if she could hear me, but I was hoping she could. That’s what they say, isn’t it – talk to them, just in case they can hear you?’

‘So then what? Did the father come back?’

‘No! We saw neither hide nor hair of him. It wasn’t long before the ambulance arrived. They tended the mother and put her in the ambulance. Me and the boy jumped in alongside. And now we’re here, and that poor boy has lost his mother. And there you have it.’

‘Thank you. So now we’ll need to discuss the implications of what you’ve told us.’

‘What will happen to Adam?’ Phil asked anxiously.

Miss Benson’s reply was curt: ‘We’ll be back shortly, and inform you of any decisions made with regard to Adam.’

No sooner were they gone than the door opened to admit two police officers – a woman and her male colleague – who were interested to learn what exactly Phil might know about Adam’s father. Concerned that they were not of the same quiet disposition as the Child Welfare officials, Phil inched them over to the furthest side of the room. ‘I don’t want Adam to hear us talking,’ he explained, and they fully appreciated his concern.

Over the next ten minutes or so, Phil impatiently answered all their questions; most of which he had already gone through with Miss Benson and Mr Norman.

The officers were sympathetic, but they questioned Phil about various aspects of his account. ‘First, the medical staff were led to believe that you were the boy’s grandfather. How did that come about?’

As before, Phil answered truthfully. ‘First of all, I can assure you that at no time did I give the impression that I was his grandfather. They just assumed that I was, and because of what was going on I didn’t bother to put them right. Mind you, I wish to God I was his grandfather, because then I might have some say in what happens to him.’ He told them that he was the driver of the school bus, and had fallen into a situation that no one with any compassion could have run away from.

The questions were thick and fast: ‘How did you come to be here now, with Adam Carter? How much do you know about the manner in which Mrs Carter’s injuries were caused?’

‘I don’t know any more than I’ve already explained,’ Phil told them. ‘I was on my way back to my bus, when the boy called for me to help him. I neither heard nor saw anything of what took place up to that point.’

‘All right, so could you just go through it again, say what you do know, and explain how you got involved? Don’t leave any detail out, however small and insignificant it might seem to you.’

Quickly, Phil went through it all again: about how he had dropped the boy off and walked him down the lane to his house. ‘Like I told the others, his father was with him when I left, so I told the boy cheerio and went on my way.’

‘And then what?’

‘Well, I heard this man’s voice. He sounded angry … screeching and yelling, he was. I assumed it must be the father as I’d seen no one else about, and the Carters’ house was the only one down that lane. Then the same car I’d seen in the drive went skidding past me and onto the main road like a damned lunatic!’

Uneasy that the woman police constable was making entries in her notebook, he reluctantly continued, ‘No sooner was the car out of sight than I heard Adam yelling my name, pleading for me to help him … in a right state he was, poor little devil. I ran back to him and when we got into the house I was shocked at what I saw there.’

He described finding Peggy Carter, as before. ‘I’ve no idea what went on in that house, but if you ask me, nobody falls down the stairs and ends up as damaged as that poor woman.’

He was not surprised to see the two officers exchange glances, because he suspected they must be thinking the very same as himself.

Having explained the run of events, he glanced over at the boy. ‘No child should ever see his mother like that, and now she’s gone, and he’s like a lost soul. I gave him my word that I would not let him down.’

‘When you “gave him your word”, what do you mean exactly?’ the male police officer asked.

Phil hesitated. What use was his word anyway, now that Child Welfare had got involved? But then, he must have been crazy if he had ever believed it could be any other way.

‘I meant that he was not to worry about anything, because I would look after him. So now I’d like to get the boy home as quickly as possible. It’s not right for him to be here just now, especially after what’s happened. He needs looking after. As far as I can tell, I’m the only one he’s got.’

The male officer was sympathetic, but having dealt with deserted children for many years, he was also realistic. ‘I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as that.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Phil’s concern was heightened by his remark, even though he was sensible enough to know that what he proposed would never be allowed.

The officer spelled it out. ‘As you’re well aware, the boy’s mother has just died, and as far as we can tell, his father has abandoned him. Then there’s the question of how Mrs Carter actually received her injuries. There are still far too many questions left unanswered. As for the boy, he is not altogether your concern. You must understand, it’s our duty to see that he is kept safe until every effort is made to locate any relatives there might be.’

‘Yes, of course I understand that, but he’s a very frightened child, without anyone close to turn to. The thing is, he knows and trusts me. I’m offering to keep him safe, at my home, or if it helps matters I’ll stay with him at his house. Either way, he’ll be taken care of, and, more importantly, by someone who’s known him these past many years; since he was old enough to attend school.’

‘I’m afraid this is not an option, Mr Wallis. When a child appears to be in danger, for whatever reason, we have a legal responsibility to examine those circumstances and take whatever steps we have to take in the best interests of that child. From information received, we consider Adam’s situation to be highly sensitive; therefore needing an immediate response. As you have already explained, you are not a relative. That being the case, Adam’s welfare is a matter for the Child Welfare Department.’

He concluded, ‘Under the circumstances, there is no question of allowing the boy to return home. As I understand it, the case has now moved into the realms of a possible murder inquiry. So, until the investigation is concluded with regard to Mrs Carter’s fatal injuries, the family home will be cordoned off and kept secure. As for relatives, you can be assured that the search is already underway. Meantime, as I’ve already explained, the boy’s safekeeping remains the responsibility of the courts, and the Child Welfare Department.’

‘Yes, and that’s what I’m worried about.’ Phil spoke his mind. ‘I’m worried that they’ll put him in the children’s home, and if his father doesn’t come back, what’ll happen to him then, eh? Like as not he’ll be fostered out, and how many foster parents would choose a deeply troubled seven-year-old in preference to a younger child? Not many, in my opinion!’

‘Have you any idea where the father might have gone?’ the woman police officer asked.

‘I’ve no idea at all. How could I?’

‘So, you wouldn’t know if Mr Carter ever intended coming back?’

‘I haven’t a clue.’

When the official questions were over, Phil had a few questions of his own, such as what would happen with Mrs Carter now, and when might they be able to make plans to move her. ‘When can we begin making arrangements for her to be laid to her rest?’

Again, the answers to all of his questions were negative and unsettling. And he was grateful that Adam had remained asleep; unaware of what was being said.

Following an agonising wait, Phil was informed by the Child Welfare officers that, after discussing the case, they had reached the only decision available to them in the circumstances.

Peggy Carter’s son would be taken into care until it was established whether or not he had relatives who might want to apply for custody.

Heartbroken, Phil asked if he might be the one to relay the news to Adam. Being sympathetic to the boy’s plight, and having already realised the bond between these two, the officials agreed. So, while the officers remained by the door, Phil woke Adam up.

Seated beside Adam, Phil choked back his own emotion as he explained how everyone was concerned that they should do the right thing by him, and therefore every effort was being taken to locate his father, and track down any other of his relatives.

‘Meantime, son, you must go with the people whose responsibility it is to keep you safe and well.’

Nervously, Adam looked across at the two Child Welfare people. For what seemed an age he did not speak. Then he looked back at Phil and, in a small, quivering voice he asked, ‘Are they waiting to take me away now?’

Trying hard not to show his sorrow, Phil took a moment to reply, and even then was able only to nod, for fear of letting his emotions run away with him.

Then they looked at each other a long while, and the boy fell into Phil’s chubby arms. Holding onto him as though his own life depended on it, he confided tearfully, ‘I don’t want to go with them, Phil. I want to go with you.’

‘I know, son, and I would take you home in a minute, but it isn’t possible. But you’re not to worry. You’ll be safe enough with these people. They’ll look after you, and who knows, they might even find your real granddad, and possibly a cousin or two. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Adam gave no answer. Instead, he asked, ‘When can I see my mum?’

‘Not yet, son, but when the time is right, I’ll be sure to let you know.’

‘Will you, Phil? Honestly?’

‘Oh, yes! You can depend on it!’ It was getting harder for him to hold back his emotions, but somehow he continued to remain calm and reassuring, for the boy’s sake.

‘And you’ll come and see me, won’t you, Phil?’

‘You bet I will!’

‘Are you coming with me now?’

‘No, I’m afraid not, but you’ve got Miss Benson and Mr Norman with you.’

‘But I want you there! Oh, please, Phil, don’t leave me!’ He started to cry again. ‘Don’t go, please.’

Phil addressed the Welfare officers. ‘It wouldn’t hurt if I went along too, would it?’ he asked softly. ‘It’s been such a bad day for the little chap.’

Of course, they could not deny the sobbing child this request.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Adam.

‘To the place where you’ll be living, while they look for one of your relatives,’ Phil explained. ‘Oh, Adam, wouldn’t that be wonderful … if they found someone who wanted to love and take care of you … someone of your very own?’

Adam looked away. ‘I want my mum.’

‘I know that, son. But like I said before – and I want you always to think of what I’m telling you now – your mother has gone to a better place. She’s not suffering any more, and no one can hurt her ever again.’

‘Is she still watching over us, Phil?’

‘Oh, yes. More than ever, and she always will be.’

A small, sympathetic gesture from one of the watching pair told Phil it was time to go.

Phil gave a nod, then, as he held Adam by the hand, they were led down the corridor, outside and across the car park, and into a waiting vehicle.

At first Adam resisted, but Phil stayed beside him, coaxing him into the back of the car, before climbing in alongside.

Throughout the short journey, Adam was unusually quiet, head down, his thoughts back there in the hospital with his beloved mum. Occasionally he would choke back a sob, and lean into Phil for comfort.

Phil talked calmly to him. He reminded him that he would come and see him as often as he was allowed, and that he would never let him down.

‘I mean to keep track of you,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow I’ll bring you pen and paper, and my home address, so if you feel the need to write to me, you’ll have the means. Oh, and I’ll fetch you a notebook.’

‘What for?’

‘Well, if ever there’s a time when I’m not able to visit and you might be worried, or sad, or maybe you’ve done something you feel proud of, you can put it all in your little book. Make sure to keep it safe, and we’ll talk it through when next I see you. Mind you, it’ll take a herd of horses or the end of the world to keep me from visiting. So, Adam, my boy, is that a deal?’

‘Yes, please, Phil.’

Seated upfront, the Welfare officers were touched by the very special relationship between the man and the boy.

‘The old fella was right,’ Miss Benson confided to Mr Norman. ‘If there was any justice in the world, he should have been the boy’s real grandfather.’

Mr Norman glanced in his driving mirror to see the boy smiling up at Phil, and he had to agree.

Within the hour, they arrived at the children’s home. An impressive, proud old building with long windows and a great oak door, it gave an impression of great strength.

‘Here we are then, Adam.’ Mr Norman climbed out of the car, and opened the door on Adam’s side. ‘We have many other children here, children much as yourself, who, through no fault of their own, have found themselves in unfortunate circumstances. I do hope you’ll be content here, while the search is on to find a relative who might offer you a loving home. In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll find a friend or two here. Oh, and I’m sure your good friend, Phil, will be calling in from time to time.’

‘Come rain or shine, you can count on it!’ Phil assured them all.

Walking across to the front door, Phil felt Adam’s hand tremble in his, and his heart was like a lead weight inside him. As was his way, he gave up a silent prayer: Don’t desert him, Lord, for this boy will never need You more than he does right now.

He glanced at Adam’s forlorn face, then he looked up at the impressive building with its long, arched windows and grand oak door, and he hoped it would not be too long before Adam could be reunited with his own long-lost relatives. Or, if that was not to be, then maybe he would be offered a special place in the heart of a loving family.

At that moment, the door opened to reveal a portly woman of middle age. Her pink face, with merry blue eyes, was wreathed in a broad smile, and her mass of brown hair was haphazardly piled on top of her head. She introduced herself as Miss Martin, and brightly invited them to, ‘Come in … please, do come in.’ She had a singsong voice that made Phil and Adam share the tiniest of smiles.

As they were ushered inside, Adam clung to Phil; and Phil felt that Adam was resisting every step. ‘It’ll be all right, son,’ he confided. ‘She looks like a nice, jolly sort. Oh, and look!’ He pointed to one of the long casement windows. ‘The children are waving at you. Oh, Adam! I really think you’ll make friends here, but I’ve a feeling it won’t be too long before you’re settled into a fine, loving family.’

Adam was not listening; nor was he looking at the children. Instead, he was thinking of his mother, of her smile and her laughter, and the way she always cuddled him, too tight, and too often; almost as though she could not let him go.

Now, she would never cuddle him again, or laugh out loud, or wave him off when he climbed onto the school bus.

When the inevitable tears came, he quietly wiped them away with the cuff of his sleeve.

Phil had seen the tears, though, and wrapping his arm round the boy’s shoulders, he drew him close.

Minutes later, as they walked through the door and into the huge, wood-panelled hallway, Phil had a feeling of dread.

He feared for the future, and with the boy still reeling from the loss of his mother, and his heart heavy with hatred for the man who he believed had caused her death, he was at his most vulnerable.

Phil could not help but wonder how this sad and lonely child would ever again find a sense of peace.

He felt as though somehow he had been appointed guardian. And so, come what may, and for as long as it took, he promised himself that he would watch over Adam as though he were his own flesh and blood.

Miss Martin seemed friendly enough, and as she waddled ahead, they were informed of occasional events that took place in the home.

‘We keep an orderly house, but that is not to say we don’t ever have fun. We also like to reward hard work and good behaviour. We’re privileged to have at least one summer trip to the seaside, and we always celebrate Christmas.’

There were many rooms in the house, and it took the best part of an hour to visit each one. The great hall was very much designed in the manner of the hallway itself, with wall panels above the skirting, and tall, arched windows. At one end there was a raised pulpit.

‘This is where we gather for morning prayers and address the various matters of the week,’ Miss Martin said.

As they toured the downstairs, Adam remained silent, as did Phil, though the officials did ask questions now and then, in order to gain more information for the benefit of Phil and Adam.

At the front of the building there were classrooms and other, brighter, rooms for play. Adam and Phil had the opportunity to watch the younger children playing happily, with the staff being very caring and supportive.

Of the other rooms, some were dedicated to early learning, while another, with rows of seats and a huge screen, was set aside for additional education and the occasional film treat.

From one small room came the sound of music, and when they peeped inside, Phil and Adam were surprised to see a boy of about Adam’s age playing the piano.

Miss Martin was very proud. ‘I had to fight the authorities tooth and nail in order for piano lessons to be agreed,’ she told them, ‘but the piano is mine, so there was no cost to be made.’

She gestured to the old man overseeing the playing. White-haired, and with a slightly bent back, he had his eyes closed, and was obviously intent on the boy’s playing.

‘That’s my uncle,’ she explained. ‘He’s a retired music teacher, and lives quite close. He kindly gives his time freely in order to encourage the talented amongst us.’ Softly, she closed the door. ‘There is more for you to see,’ and with a wide and pleasant smile, she urged them onward.

The back of the house was given over to the kitchens, toilet facilities, and accommodation for junior staff.

Upstairs was divided into two. The lesser area was dedicated to the senior staff. ‘We have no need to tour this side,’ Miss Martin informed them. ‘It’s merely private offices and accommodation.’

The larger and better secured half of the upper floors was the children’s dormitories, with a small office close by for the duty night officer.

All too soon it was time for Phil to say goodbye to Adam. ‘Remember what I said,’ Phil reminded him. ‘Anything that worries you … anything at all, we’ll discuss it tomorrow, when I come and see you.’ He turned to Miss Martin. ‘Do you have specific visiting times?’

‘Of course. We can’t have people popping in and out at will. It’s necessary for both staff and children to work with an orderly timetable, although, of course, in cases of emergency, we can be flexible.’

Bypassing Phil, she enquired of the officials, ‘So, does Adam have any belongings with him?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ Miss Benson walked her away from the group. ‘I assume you’ve been informed of the circumstances?’

‘Of course, yes, I do understand. But Adam will feel more comfortable if he could possibly have a few of his own things with him … his regular clothes and personal things.’

‘Yes, I understand. I can’t promise anything, but I will try.’

‘Oh, please do. It really will make all the difference to him settling in.’

There followed the inevitable tears, with Adam clinging to Phil.

‘I don’t want to stay here, Phil.’

Phil’s heart ached as he confided, ‘For the moment there’s nothing we can do about it, son. Just remember. I won’t be far away, and I’ll be back every day. So you’re not alone. Always remember that.’

‘Phil?’

‘Yes, son?’

‘What about my mum?’

Phil took him by the shoulders. ‘Listen to what I say now. Your mum is in a safer and happier place, and she’s watching over you. If you ever need to confide in her, then do so any time, any place, and she will hear you clear as a bell. As for everything else, just you leave it to me. I’ll talk to whoever’s in charge, and I’ll get all the answers you need, I promise …’ he laid his hand across his chest, ‘… hand on heart, I truly will.’

‘You mustn’t worry too much about Adam,’ Miss Martin informed Phil. ‘We’ll soon have him settled in, and he’ll be fine. You wait and see.’ She smiled at Adam. ‘I’ll do my best to get some of your personal possessions brought in. It would certainly help if you could make me a list of the things you cherish most.’ When Adam gave no answer, she added, ‘Just have a little think about it.’ She then plucked a leaflet from the hallway table, and handed it to Phil. ‘You’ll need this, Mr …?’ She recalled that Phil had been introduced already, and she was irritated that her memory was not what it used to be, although she never lost sight of what was most important: the children and their welfare.

‘Wallis … the name is Phil Wallis, and you can be sure I’ll be back here tomorrow, and every day I’m allowed.’

‘I see.’ She made a smile, but behind the smile she was wondering if this determined man was a pain in the making. She could see, however, that Phil Wallis was sincere in his concern for the boy.

A few minutes later they were outside in the porch. ‘I’ll be thinking of you, son,’ Phil promised. ‘Happen when I come back tomorrow, you’ll have made a friend or two.’

Adam began to panic. Throwing his arms round Phil’s ample belly, he pleaded tearfully, ‘I’m frightened. Please, Phil, let me come home with you.’

It took every ounce of strength for Phil to speak calmly and reassure the boy. Holding him at arm’s length, he stooped to his level, and, looking into his eyes, he asked, ‘Do you think I would ever lie to you?’

Adam shook his head.

‘So, you must know that what I’ve told you is the truth, that your mother is watching over you, and that she won’t let any harm come to you. And don’t forget, you’ll always have me looking out for you.’

Fishing into his pocket, he took out a pen and a tatty old envelope. ‘Look, I’m writing my address down for you, and if ever you need to tell me things that you can’t tell anybody else, just write me a letter.’ He glanced at Miss Martin. ‘He is allowed to do that, isn’t he?’

‘Of course, but there are certain regulations, so we will need to see the letter before it goes out.’

‘Huh! Well, I’m sure he won’t be planning a bank robbery with me …’ He gave an aside wink at Adam.

When Adam chuckled, Phil grabbed him in a hug. ‘Aw, son, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself. Try not to fret too much, and don’t let yourself dwell on the bad things that have happened.’

Fishing into his pocket for a second time, he drew out a handful of coins, which he gave to Miss Martin. ‘This is Adam’s money … for stamps, or whatever other small thing he’s able to buy.’

‘Thank you, though we do have a small budget for certain incidentals.’ All the same, she slipped the coins into her pocket. ‘But I’ll keep them safe for him.’

‘’Bye for now, son.’ Phil kissed the top of Adam’s head. ‘Remember … the sun nearly always shines after the rain. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that the authorities will find your relatives.’ He made a point of not mentioning Adam’s father.

When Phil climbed into the car alongside the Welfare officers, Miss Martin held onto Adam, who waved until his arms ached. Then, as the car went out of sight, his sobbing was pitiful to hear.

Her heart being slightly softer than her authoritative exterior, Miss Martin slid her arm round his shoulders. ‘Your friend Phil has promised he’ll be back tomorrow, and I’m sure he will.’

‘He will! I know he will!’

‘Well, there you are then.’

Adam confided brokenly, ‘My mum … she …’ he took a deep breath, ‘… she died. Did you know that?’

‘Yes, they told me, and I’m so sorry, but we will care for you here, Adam. We will look after you. For as long as it takes.’

‘I don’t want to be here.’

‘I know, and I do understand.’

‘NO! You don’t, because you didn’t know my mum. You didn’t know how kind she was, and how funny, and sometimes she would race me across the fields, and now … and …’ he could no longer hold back the heartbreak, ‘I want her back … I miss her.’ Knowing he would never again see his beloved mother, never again hear her voice or feel her small, strong arms around him, he wept bitterly and his cries were terrible to hear.

Miss Martin understood. ‘Listen to me, Adam. I do know what it’s like to lose your mother, because I lost mine when I was not much older than you.’ She had an idea. ‘Do y’know what? I would love to know what your mum was like. She sounds wonderful. So, how about you and I go and have a chat? Then we can talk together, and ask each other all the questions that are in our minds. Afterwards, we can meet up with some of the staff and children. Would you like that, Adam?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, shall we just go and have a little chat on our own? Afterwards, you can decide whether you want to meet some of the children, and maybe one or two members of staff? Is that all right with you?’

Again, Adam nodded, but really he just wanted to run after that car, and his only friend, Phil.

‘Right then! So that’s what we’ll do.’ Taking hold of his hand, Miss Martin quickened her steps.

Adam was reluctant. Pulling back against her iron grip and dragging his feet, he glanced towards the windows, his forlorn gaze constantly drawn to where the car had taken Phil out of sight.

He could not understand why or how everything had happened so very quickly, and he was so afraid. This morning he had gone to school as usual, and afterwards, Phil had walked him home. And now Phil was gone, his mother was gone, and his father had run away.

‘Come along, Adam,’ Miss Martin interrupted his thoughts. ‘There’s no time for wasting. Lots to do … lots to talk about.’

She led him smartly along the corridor and through the house to the parlour, which doubled as her office. ‘Here we are, Adam. Now then, how about a glass of fresh orange juice?’

Unceremoniously plonking him onto the sofa, she firmly closed the door and cut across the room to the sideboard. ‘I think we deserve a little treat, don’t you?’ Without waiting for an answer, she took out a small tumbler and a fluted glass.

Humming a merry tune under her breath, she first poured the orange juice into the tumbler, and then she poured a sizeable helping of sherry into the glass. ‘One for each of us,’ she chirped.

While she bustled about, Adam felt more lost and frightened than at any other time in his life.

Everyone he knew had gone away. Everything familiar had changed, and now he was alone among strangers.

PART TWO

The Unwanted Visitor

CHAPTER FOUR

ANNE WYMAN LOVED the little house, formerly her aunt’s, on the outskirts of Bedford. It was her pride and joy, but most of all, it was her safe hideaway.

When she’d arrived in Bedford some thirteen years ago, she was a frightened young woman on the run.

Fearful that the man from her past would find her, she would wait until the street was empty before venturing out. When a kindly neighbour might attempt to make small talk, she would merely give a brief nod of the head, before hurrying away.

Back then, after she fled, she was at her most vulnerable. When night fell thick and heavy, she would climb up the stairs to her darkened bedroom and cautiously inch open the curtains just enough for her to peer through to the street below. Then she would kneel by the window and peek out until her eyeballs were sore and her bones ached from the kneeling.

Haunted by the memory of Edward Carter, a madman who had twice beaten her to within an inch of her life, she had learned over the years to remain ever vigilant. Night after night, and even in the daylight hours, she made herself ready for when he might emerge from the shadows.

At first, having finally escaped from him, she would hardly dare close her eyes to sleep. Instead, aching with tiredness, she would listen to every sound, every slight movement, fearing the moment when he might snatch her away.

So she watched and waited, and eventually she would fall asleep, but it was not an easy sleep. Not then.

And not now.

Today was Saturday. Both herself and her friend Sally had completed their weekly quota of hours working at Woolworths, so this was their day off to do with as they liked.

The thought of spending quality time with Sally brought a smile to Anne’s face.

The weather had been bright and sunny all week. Having already decided that, if the weather held, they would drive to Yarmouth, it now seemed that a day at the seaside would be a reality.

Anne hummed a little ditty as she went into the hallway to the telephone. Grabbing up the big black receiver, she dialled Sally’s number. It was a while before her friend answered.

‘Hello?’ She sounded sleepy.

‘Sally, being as it’s a lovely day, I was wondering, are we still on for Yarmouth?’ She kept her fingers crossed, because if Sally didn’t go, then neither would she, and she was really looking forward to it now.

Sally, however, was of the same mind. ‘Yeah, I’m up for it.’

‘Great!’ Anne did a little dance on the spot. ‘So, d’you want me to drive?’

‘Well, my car’s leaking oil again, so if we go in yours we might actually get there. I meant to deliver mine to the garage but I haven’t had time.’ She groaned. ‘To tell the truth, I keep putting it off, because the mechanic will probably tell me to dump it anyway. He reckons it’s well and truly worn out but it’s all I can afford, so I’ll have to make do with it for now.’

‘Look, I’ve got savings,’ Anne said. ‘I can lend you some, and you can pay me back whenever.’

Sally would not hear of it. ‘I know how long you’ve scrimped and saved to put a few quid aside. That money is your security and peace of mind, and I would never dream of taking it.’

‘It’s OK, really. I don’t mind. It would be a real pain if your car broke down altogether.’

‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s like an old soldier. It’s been patched up before and it’ll be patched up again. Meantime, I’ll have to stop gadding about and save a few shillings every week until I’ve got enough to get it put right.’

‘OK, so I’ll pick you up in what … an hour?’

‘I’ll be ready in half an hour.’

‘Are you sure?’ Anne knew from experience how long it took Sally to get ready, and by the sounds of it, she had only just got out of bed.

‘I’ll be ready, don’t worry.’

‘Right!’ Growing excited, Anne resumed her humming as she swiftly cleared away the last of the breakfast things. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was already half-past eight. ‘Crikey! I’d best get a move on.’ It was a fifteen-minute drive to Kempston where Sally lived, and at this time on a Saturday the roads could be busy.

Having tidied the kitchen, she made sure the back door was locked and bolted before running upstairs and into the bathroom. She quickly cleaned her teeth, ruffled her fine blonde hair and ran back downstairs; grabbing her coat and bag as she went out the front door.

As always, whenever leaving the house, she made doubly sure that the front door was secured. She then glanced up at the bedroom windows to satisfy herself that they were closed. For good reason, she had learned over the years to keep her wits about her as far as her own security was concerned.

These days, though, she was slightly less paranoid than she had been on first arriving in this quiet backstreet many years ago. Even so, the bad memories and a dark, nagging fear that Edward Carter might find her still lurked at the back of her mind.

Clambering into her beloved Morris Minor, she slammed shut the door and then checked through her handbag. She opened her purse: three pound and six shillings, more than enough.

Next, she drew out a stick of rouge and a powder compact. She looked at her reflection in the compact mirror while she dabbed a little make-up over her cheekbones. ‘Anne Wyman, you’re no oil painting, but you’re all you’ve got, so you’ll have to do!’ she muttered to herself. Retrieving her lipstick from her handbag, she painted her full, plump mouth with the pale pink lipstick.

She then returned the items to her handbag, started the engine, checked for oncoming traffic, and drew away from the kerb.

At the top of Roff Avenue, she slowed and checked in the driver’s mirror. Her eyes were instantly drawn to a tall, dark-haired figure heading away towards the far end of Roff Avenue. He was walking slowly, almost strolling. He seemed nervous, his head turning this way and that, as though searching for something or someone.

Anne’s heart skipped a beat. She could hardly breathe. ‘Stop that!’ she chided herself. The past is long behind you.

The man was out of sight now and, with an irate driver honking his car horn behind her, Anne shifted into gear and drew away.

Some short distance down the road, she pulled over and switched the engine off. Wrapping her trembling fingers around the steering wheel, she gripped it so tight her knuckles turned white.

‘Pull yourself together, girl!’

She reminded herself that this was not the first time she’d imagined he was actually in her street searching for her. And each time she’d been wrong.

After a few minutes, feeling calmer, she restarted the engine and set off again. By now, there was no sight of the man who had truly unnerved her.

Edward Carter was in a foul mood. Having been up and down the back alley, peeking into yards and hanging about, he had still not been able to catch sight of her. He knew the house was in this street. He’d seen the address in the past enough damned times to know he’d got the right place. Roff Avenue, Bedford.

Unkempt and agitated, he had been on the run far too long. He needed a place to hide to keep his head down for a while. He had a plan, and it involved Anne Wyman, the girl he had married all those years ago. The naïve, trusting little girl who eventually ran off and left him. She owed him, and she was still his wife … whether she liked it or not.

He chuckled to himself. If she really thought he might never come looking for her, she was in for a real surprise.

He continued to wander up and down the back alley, growing increasingly agitated, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the houses.

When a couple of people turned into the alley and wandered past him, he flattened himself against the wall, pretending to light a cigarette. As they went past, he nodded amiably to them. ‘Morning.’

After a fleeting acknowledgement, the couple walked on, though they turned once to take another look at him. When he stared back, they made a hasty exit.

The policeman had not long turned the corner into Roff Avenue when he saw the man head into the alley, and now, as he noticed the couple hurrying out, he grew curious and crossed the street to investigate.

Edward Carter saw the policeman approaching, and, speaking in his finest voice, he cunningly made his way towards him.

‘Good morning, officer. I wonder if you might be able to help me?’

Surprised by this untidy man’s refined voice and manner, the policeman replied in a friendly but authoritative tone, ‘If I can help you, I will, but it’s not wise to be loitering about these back alleys. It tends to make people nervous, and that makes me nervous.’

‘Of course. I do understand, but I’m looking for an old friend … a woman by the name of Anne Carter. When she moved away from her previous address, she gave me the street and town, but forgot to write down the number of her aunt’s house … that’s where she’s staying.’

He began to rummage in his pocket. ‘I can show you what she wrote … Roff Avenue, Bedford. I promised to visit when I was able. The thing is, her old aunt Ada doesn’t have a telephone, doesn’t like them, so I’m told.’ He gave a warm smile.

The policeman nodded. ‘I know a lot of people who seem a bit timid of the idea. I expect they’re used to going down to the red box outside. My mother’s exactly the same … won’t even hear of a telephone in the house.’

Still putting on a show, Carter pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, feigning a groan when he read it. ‘Oh, wrong one. Sorry, officer. It must be in my inside pocket …’ He made a big fuss of digging about in his pockets.

The policeman accepted his story hook, line and sinker. ‘Look, I understand. I’m afraid I can’t help you, but I tell you what –’ he pointed back down the alley – ‘go back the same way you came in, and turn left. You’ll see a pub on the corner. The landlord’s always up and working, and there’s an old fella keeps the place spick and span. Like as not he might know where your friend is living, especially if there’s an old aunt, because the old ’uns do have a communal spirit round these parts.’

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