The Broken Man Part 6

'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 rea.s.sure 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s.

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 gla.s.s. '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.

1957.

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 eyeb.a.l.l.s 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 s.n.a.t.c.h 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 Sat.u.r.day. 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.

'h.e.l.lo?' 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 d.a.m.ned 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 naive, 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.