The Broken Man
‘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
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.