The Broken Man Part 13

Anne gave a little smile. 'Don't forget to ring me when you get to Mick's mum's.'

Having seen them arrive, Edward Carter had kept his distance. Now he was placed in a vantage point at the end of the alley where he was able to see out while no one could see him.

He watched Sally hurry past the opening. He saw her turn and wave.

''Bye, Anne. See you!'

He smiled to himself. Will you now? His plan did not include a third party.

At the bus shelter, Sally checked the time of the next bus. Still twenty minutes to wait. Oh, b.u.g.g.e.r, I could have stayed with Anne another ten minutes, she thought impatiently.

Back at the house, while collecting the tray from the front room, Anne glanced through the window to see the tabby cat, strolling lazily across the busy road. Quickly replacing the tray on the table, she ran out of the front door and swept the cat into her arms.

'You silly little devil! You could get run over.'

Carrying the wriggling bundle inside, she placed the dish of food on the floor, and stood the grateful cat in front of it. 'There! Make sure you eat it all up.'

While the cat tucked into its food, she returned to the front room, and collected the tray. As she walked back into the kitchen, she had a sickening feeling that someone else was in the house.

Through the corner of her eye she saw the swish of a dark jacket. Panicking, she turned to run, but he was on her, gripping her so tight by the neck, she struggled to breathe.

The more she fought to escape, the more his grip tightened, and there was no way out.

'Missed me, have you?' His warm, thick breath fanned her face. 'Long time, no see, but you haven't changed much. Still the same, tight little figure ... same mop of hair. Mmm!' Gripping a lock of her fair curls in his teeth, he buried his face in her hair. 'You smell real nice ... all woman.' He gave a long, deep groan as he ran his free hand over her private parts.

Frantic, Anne tried to push him away, but he held her fast. He swung her round to face him, his narrow eyes boring into her. 'You ran away from me. No woman ever ran away from Edward Carter!' Pushing his face close to hers, he whispered in her ear, 'That was not a nice thing to do. You really are a prize b.i.t.c.h, aren't you?'

'Leave me alone!' However hard Anne struggled, she could not free herself from his vice-like grip. 'You mean nothing to me. I don't want anything to do with you.'

His laughter rang through the house. 'Is that so?' he growled. 'Little Miss High-and-Mighty doesn't want anything to do with me? Well, you listen to me, b.i.t.c.h! This is your husband you're talking to. The same husband you dumped back there. The same husband who helped you when even your own parents turned you out. You might be surprised to know that I've made a few friends since I got here, and by the way, I've done my homework. Oh, yes! I know you don't have a man-friend, and you should thank your lucky stars for that, because if I thought you had set up with another man, I would need to deal with him ... and it would not be nice. If you know what I mean?'

He craftily slid one arm over her shoulders and across her breast. When he began roughly fondling her, she fought viciously. 'Get off me! Get out of my house! My friend has just gone to the shop. She'll be back in a minute-'

'Liar!' Screeching with laughter, he licked her neck from the hairline to the collarbone, making her cringe with disgust.

'I've been watching you,' he crowed, 'and your friend. I know she's gone, and I know she's not coming back. I heard her say cheerio. So, to my reckoning, that leaves just you and me. You may not believe it, but it's been a while since I had a woman. Oh, but that can wait for now; until we've discussed the legal stuff.'

Anne knew the depth of his badness, and she was desperate. 'What are you talking about? What legal stuff? There's nothing between us any more, and never will be. Like I told you, I want nothing to do with the man who killed my baby! I hate you. Every minute of every day, I've wished you dead. Do you hear what I'm saying?'

Her words were cruelly cut short when he grabbed her by the face. 'You want me dead, do you? Well, it won't happen. I'll tell you what will happen, though, shall I?' Lowering his voice, he growled in her ear, 'Like I said, I've made friends. They very kindly filled me in on a thing or two. For instance, I know the old biddy left you this house. Only it's not your house now. It's mine! I'm your husband. What's yours is mine. I'm ent.i.tled to whatever you have, and that includes this house.'

'NEVER!' Anne screamed at him. 'You'll get my aunt's house over my dead body.'

'Oh, don't you worry, that can always be arranged.' Thrusting his face close to hers, he took delight in boasting, 'After you ran off, it didn't take me long to find myself another woman. I never loved her, though; not like I love you. She meant nothing to me. She was weak. She had no spirit. I despised her for that.' Anne was shocked when he added casually, 'She died, you know.'

'What do you mean, "she died"?'

'She had an accident. She fell down the stairs ... broke every bone in her body, I shouldn't wonder. I had a son too ... Adam. I left them both behind, because of you. Y'see, it's you I want.' He smiled. 'It's always been you. So, what d'you say to that, eh?'

'I say, I've always known that you're completely mad.' Now she was more convinced of that than ever.

'Still feisty, eh?' Her spirit pleased him. 'If I'm "mad", it's prison that made me that way. I did time because of that weak, spineless woman. Even when she was dying, she was too afraid to accuse me.'

'Was it your fault she died?' Anne dared to ask.

'Hmm! Don't you think if it had been my fault she would have said so, and I would have been put away for a very long time?'

He abruptly changed the subject. 'The boy was made in her mould. I've no idea where he is now. Nor do I want to know. He meant nothing to me, and neither did his mother, although I'm grateful that she chose not to say it might have been me who caused her early demise.'

His manner darkened. 'There were others who tarnished my name, though. Apparently, the medical team found a number of bruises on her body, and made certain suggestions. One or two other things were said that marked my card and got me put away. My own son turned against me, and some old man gave an account of me supposedly running away on the day it all happened. I got a prison sentence. Oh, but it was rough in there, I can tell you. The place was filled with rogues, murderers and bad people you could never imagine. But the experience has made me stronger. It's taught me that I must do whatever it takes to survive.'

He smiled. 'It even gave me the will to find you ... and lay my claim to this house. So now, I'm back in your life, and that pleases me.'

He sn.i.g.g.e.red. 'You should be delighted to see me. Instead, here you are, calling me all sorts of names, and even wanting to fight me.'

Suddenly, taking him by surprise, Anne pulled away and ran down the hallway, but he caught her and pinned her against the wall. 'Don't make me angry.' He dragged her into the front room. 'You'll only come off worse.' With one mighty shove he sent her sprawling onto the sofa. 'Now be quiet or I'll have to gag you!' Keeping a wary eye on her, he swiftly drew the curtains shut. 'We don't want anyone being nosy, do we?'

In the half-light, he watched her every move. 'No point in trying to escape, my dear. It will only rile me, and make matters worse for you.'

Knowing what he was capable of, Anne remained quiet. Hurt and bleeding, she let him rant on, while training her frantic thoughts on a plan of escape.

Sally ran all the way back from the bus stop. What an idiot, she muttered to herself, leaving my handbag on the windowsill.

She hurried up the front path to Anne's house, and was about to knock on the front door when she heard sounds much like soft laughter. Someone else was there ... a neighbour, probably. She knocked on the door but there was no answer. She knocked again, louder this time, but still no answer. That was really odd.

Growing curious, she sidestepped onto the lawn, and stretched up to peer in the window, but she was too short to see, and the curtains were closed. Why would Anne close the curtains at this time of day? Sally smiled. Maybe Anne had got a secret admirer, and didn't want to say.

Tapping on the window, she called, 'Anne, are you in there? I left my handbag on the windowsill ... I'm sorry!'

When there was still no answer, she grew concerned.

She looked about the garden. Spotting a large plant pot, she dragged it to the base of the window where she turned it upside down, and climbed onto it.

Gripping the windowsill to steady herself, she leaned forward, towards the impossibly narrow slit between the two curtains. Peeping through, she found it difficult to make out anything. There were no sounds, but in the half-light from the hallway, she imagined she could just about see the two figures seated on the sofa. She called out, 'Anne, are you in there? I need to quickly collect my handbag ... please?'

Suddenly, there was movement, but she couldn't make out what was happening. 'Anne, if you could please hand me my bag, I'll be off and catch the bus.'

Inside, Anne was desperately struggling. Hearing Sally, she tried to call out, but Carter punched her hard across the mouth. Dazed and bleeding, she fell back onto the sofa.

Realising that something was not right, Sally remembered Anne's words: He hurt me ... he killed my baby.

Horrified at the possibility that Edward Carter was inside the house, Sally bunched her fist and banged hard on the window. 'Carter! I know who you are. I know what you did. You'd better not hurt her. I've seen you now ... I can identify you.' She banged on the window again. 'I'm calling the police!' Scrambling off her makeshift platform, she ran down the path, all the while yelling at the top of her voice, 'Help! Call the police! There's a madman ... He's got my friend ... He's hurting her ...'

She ran to the pub, thankful that the landlord was on the pavement putting out his boards advertising the evening darts match. He saw her running as though her life depended on it.

'Good Lord! What's wrong?' He caught her in his arms.

Breathless, Sally shouted, 'Call the police! Quickly. It's Anne! He means to kill her ... he will. He'll do it ... please hurry! Get the police!'

The landlord ran inside, with Sally following. As he dialled the number, Sally told him, 'Hurry! He's got her trapped inside the house, and he's hurting her ... he means to kill her! Please hurry!'

It seemed like no time at all before the squad cars were racing down the street, sirens screaming.

They found Anne lying on the floor, bruised and bloodied.

Edward Carter, though, had already fled.

Some half a mile away, the foot-patrol officer was on his rounds when he heard the sirens. They alerted his memory of the shifty-looking man who had been lurking about in the back alleys earlier.

Being the kind of officer who took his work seriously, he decided to check the back alleys yet again.

As he came round the corner, Edward Carter ran straight into him. There was a vicious set-to as Carter tried to escape, but he was out of breath and weakened, while the officer was a big, capable fellow, and not one to be brought down easily.

This time, Edward Carter had met his match. Being well trained in the art of apprehending a violent suspect, the officer gave better than he got. There was a desperate struggle, but even though the officer was slightly injured, he soon had his prisoner safe against the wall, arms behind his back, and strong handcuffs securing him there.

While keeping Carter trapped, the officer used his walkie-talkie and within minutes help arrived.

A short time later, Carter was unceremoniously bundled into the car and taken away.

As he went, he glanced out the window. Don't celebrate too soon, little wifey, he mouthed in a whisper. I'll be back.

Pale and shaking from her ordeal, Anne told the constable, 'He's beaten me up before, but this time he really wanted to kill me. I saw it in his eyes.'

'Right! Well, he can't hurt you where he's going.' The kindly constable could see how Carter must have terrified this young woman.

After checking her bruises he made an entry in his notebook. 'I'm sorry, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened here.'

As Anne described the frightening series of events, he meticulously recorded them.

After the police had gone, Sally took charge. 'Come on. Let's get you upstairs ... A freshen-up and change of clothes might help you feel better.'

After escorting Anne upstairs and helping her choose a comfortable outfit, Sally told her, 'You finish here, and I'll go down and tidy up. When you're ready, we'll get into your car and I'll drive you over to my house. You're staying with me and Mick ... and I am not taking no for an answer! Don't worry, Pusscat can come too.'

Anne did not need asking twice.

Half an hour later, the two of them set off. Sally was driving, but she kept a careful eye on Anne, who was very quiet, shaken by what Carter had done to her ... again.

PART THREE.

Dangerous Times.

1957.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

WHEN THE KNOCK came on her office door, Miss Martin was head down, browsing through paperwork.

'Come in!' She was expecting a senior member of her staff to deliver Adam Carter to her door. In antic.i.p.ation, she took off her spectacles, laid them on the desk and waited.

Nancy Montague flounced in, ushering Adam before her. 'I've brought Adam as instructed,' she advised Miss Martin. Placing the flat of her hand in the centre of Adam's back, she gently urged him forward.

Miss Martin offered him a smile. 'Good morning, Adam! And are you feeling good, this bright and beautiful morning?'

'Good morning, Miss Martin.' He stood before her, his two hands clenched before him. 'I'm all right, thank you.'

She nodded to Nancy. 'Thank you, Nancy. We'll be fine just now.' With a flutter of her chubby hand she waved the nervous little woman away.

When the door was closed and she was alone with the boy, she instructed him with a warm smile: 'Please, Adam, do sit down.' She gestured to the deep-bottomed chair strategically placed at the side of her large, well-polished desk.

Adam stepped forward and did as he was asked.

Momentarily, Miss Martin took quiet stock of him, especially noting the subservient manner in which he had stood, hands clenched in front, eyes down. Staring at the floor.

With his thick brown hair and serious brown eyes, he was a handsome boy; quiet with a soulful disposition and a heavy heart.

Now aged thirteen, and having been at the children's home for a number of years, Adam had forged no real friendship here. He was a loner, plagued by events of the past, and ever anxious about whatever future awaited him.

'Please, Adam, look up!' When he raised his head and looked directly at her, Miss Martin asked him, 'Did you enjoy your birthday party last week, Adam?'

'Yes, Miss Martin, thank you.'

'Good! And did you enjoy your outing with Miss Nightingale and your friend Phil?'

Adam's face lit up. 'Oh, yes, I enjoyed it very much, thank you.'

'Excellent!' She always made a point of giving praise where it was due. 'You have a fine friend in Phil.'

Her manner and tone grew serious. 'So, Adam, what are we going to do with you, I wonder?'

'I don't understand, Miss Martin.'

'Very well then, I shall explain. Here you are, now thirteen years old, and still not settled with a foster family. Why is that, do you think?'

'I don't really know, Miss Martin.'

'So, Adam. Now that you've had time to think about your month with the last foster family, can you tell me what really happened there?'

'I'm not sure, Miss Martin. I just wasn't very happy.'