The Runaway Page 16

  Before the excited and happy girl left to tell her husband the good news, Faith gave her a brief outline of what had happened to her and how she had abandoned her child. ‘Do you still want to live here?’ she asked, and she looked at the girl’s large blue eyes and pleaded silently for her to agree.

  ‘Please, Miss Pryor. The room will suit us perfectly and I’ll make sure we find a permanent place before the baby is born.’ She looked at Faith, then away. ‘I – we – we did know your sad story,’ she admitted. ‘But despite being told in a spiteful way, I believe you. You were very brave to do what you did, and I’m sure you were right. You’d have given him the benefit of the doubt if you weren’t certain he was capable of such a thing.’

  Faith thanked her but her own doubts were still there.

  She had to buy a double bed in place of the two singles the nurses had used, and a second-hand shop provided her with a wooden bed plus a matching wardrobe. Mr Gretorex helped the delivery man to move the beds out. The new one was placed against the wall, allowing room for a small table and a couple of easy armchairs she had bought but had left in the shed. Her money was dwindling away but she had a feeling that her new guests would be happy there and she wanted to do all she could to make them welcome.

  On the day Kitty and Gareth Robins were due to move in she lit a fire in the small grate in their room and left a vase of flowers on the window sill. She smiled when she heard the squeal of delight when Kitty saw what she had done.

  From the first day they were not like lodgers. They treated her like a friend and Kitty frequently popped in and out of her room, knocking respectfully but calling her and opening the door at the same time, with some snippet of news: a sale on at one of the shops, a fresh supply of navel oranges at the greengrocer’s, or Christmas trees at a temporary stall, or just something happening that had amused them which they wanted to share. If it weren’t for the continuing absence of Ian and his mother, life would be approaching contentment.

  Sunday lunch became a regular event. Kitty and Mrs Gretorex taking turns with Faith to provide and cook it. The house had a warmth Faith had never known before. If only Ian and Vivienne could share it. Olive too. They had all been such good friends and the end of it had been such a disappointment.

  Winter deepened its grip and with the shops filling up with the tinsel and treasures of Christmastime, Olive was feeling low. Her sons rarely called and she spent too many hours alone in the miserable room. If only she hadn’t agreed to their using her room as a free lodging she might still be with Faith and the others. It had been such a happy time, and her boys had ruined it.

  She was putting on her rather ancient but thick, warm coat, having decided to walk around the shops to kill a few hours of her lonely day, when she heard footsteps running up the stairs. The door opened and her sons came in. As usual, it was Colin who did the talking.

  ‘Come on, Mam, we’ve got something to show you. We’ve found you a new home.’ They hustled her out of the flat and she grabbed her shopping bag and purse, intending to buy a few vegetables on the way back from whatever flight of fancy this was.

  To her surprise they went on the bus and stepped off not far from a row of cottages that had been built many years before for farm workers. Could they really be renting one of these? Excitement rose, then fell rapidly as she was led through a gate into a field. There, alongside the hedge, was a caravan. Her son handed her a key and said. ‘It’s yours, Mam.’

  Bemused, she stared at it. ‘How can I live in a field?’ she asked quietly. ‘There’s three or four months of winter ahead of us. I couldn’t survive in that. I’m better off in that room, awful though it is.’

  ‘The farmer has agreed to your staying and you can use the water tap in the barn. Best of all, Mam,’ Graham said, ‘he’ll give you electricity from his generator. There’s electric light, a heater, a cooker and everything. How’s that?’

  ‘The electricity goes off at nine, mind,’ Colin warned, ‘but you can use candles or we can find you an oil lamp, maybe.’

  Find an oil lamp, she thought. Not buy. They were still finding the easy way out, although they must have paid money for this caravan. She shivered and tried not to wonder where and how they got the money.

  ‘Honestly earned?’ she dared to ask, not expecting a truthful reply.

  ‘Yes, we’re paying in instalments and it’s taken out of our wages each week.’ Colin showed her a small payment book and she saw that half had been paid as a deposit and the monthly amounts were noted beside the dates on which they were due.

  ‘Dad left us in a right mess, Mam, and we got out of it in the only way we could. But from now on it’s all legit.’

  Reassured, she relaxed. It must be true, they wouldn’t offer her a place like this if it belonged to someone else.

  After an inspection she was encouraged to try living there. She would have neighbours in the cottages and the farm promised interests to fill her time. Better still, a few days later, Graham came with a mail order catalogue and suggested she might find a few customers to buy from it and earn a little money for herself. ‘You’ll have to embellish the address a bit,’ he warned with a grin. ‘The caravan, beside a hedge, in Hunter’s Field, Barry, might not be acceptable.’

  With Graham’s help she gave her address as Rose Villa, Golden Grove Farm and was accepted by the catalogue. Two of the cottages provided her first customers. She felt hopeful of settling at least for the next few months and this time, she was determined the boys wouldn’t ruin it for her.

  With the approach of winter Faith’s garden was gradually being tamed. Paths had been unearthed and ashes used to improve them. The shrubs and trees had been cut back. Small plots were cleaned and marked out ready for spring planting. The smell of the freshly turned earth excited her and she worked harder than ever, getting it ready.

  A clematis had struggled across a wall and had been nurtured back to life and, to her delight, a Chinese wisteria was discovered in a corner, where it had climbed over a neglected arch. Mr Gretorex had repaired the arch and in summer it would be a focal point for the garden. There was even a small pond, made from an abandoned bath found by Kitty and Gareth and dragged home.

  One Saturday, Ian unexpectedly called at the shop in time to walk home with her. ‘Sorry, but I’ve been stupid.’ he said.

  ‘I presumed you and Tessa were going to try again,’ she said. ‘I hear all sorts of gossip in the shop and know she and Nick are far from happy.’

  ‘So far as I know they’re still together,’ he said.

  Puzzled, she waited for his explanation of his absence.

  ‘This will make me sound like a petulant child,’ he said with a wry grin, ‘but you always suggest running away and I’m afraid to become too fond, too dependent on your … friendship.’

  ‘I’m not running away. Not any more.’ Nothing more was said and she was left feeling unsatisfied and let down.

  He called once or twice but seemed ill at ease and when he left there was no mention of further arrangements. She didn’t see Vivienne and wondered whether this was an end to their friendship and he was trying in his hesitant way to let her down lightly.

  One Sunday morning in December, Faith rose early. It was her turn to cook the lunch – now a tradition they all enjoyed. Ian might be fading out of her life but she was happy here with her friends. She had a job that was pleasant enough and a house that she loved. She stretched contentedly, then, reaching for her dressing-gown she leaned on the window sill and looked out at her garden. Then a cry escaped her lips. She stared in disbelief. Everything had been trampled and cut down. All the plants on which she had spent so much time were in ruins. Trees had been chopped and even the pond was filled with stones. When could this have happened without someone seeing?

  Ian heard of the damage from one of his neighbours and went straight around. Like Faith he was horrified that someone could do such a cruel thing. After walking through the garden and looking more closely at the destruction he sa
t on the doorstep, waiting for Faith, who had gone to buy a morning paper, quietly working out the best strategy for persuading her to call the police.

  If this was down to Matt Hewitt spite and anger were perhaps understandable, but this was a dangerous step up from spreading gossip. He shuddered, wondering what Faith could expect next. However hurt Matt had been, if this was his handiwork he had to be stopped.

  Faith came along the road and turned her head away from the sight of her ruined garden. So she saw Ian before she reached the gate.

  ‘So you’ve seen the latest reminder of my wickedness?’ she said, her voice strained, her face pale and heavy-eyed. ‘This can hardly have been done by a woman, so how many enemies do you think I have? Two? Three? Thirty-three?’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  She nodded, unable to speak any more and he followed her into the kitchen, where he held her close and spoke soothingly, as though she were a child. Then he moved away and filled the kettle and put it to boil. ‘Faith, you have to inform the police,’ he said. ‘This is malicious damage. A big step up from name-calling, and I’m afraid of what the man will do next.’

  ‘You don’t think this was the work of a woman?’

  ‘It’s possible, but I think a woman might have been noticed walking along with a bag of tools. A saw was used, and an axe. Heavy stones were carried to fill the pond. No, I can’t see a woman doing this. Olive Monk’s sons?’ he suggested.

  ‘I’ll never believe it was Olive’s sons. They were in the wrong, staying here without my agreement, but Olive is a good, kind person and her sons weren’t difficult or threatening when they left.’

  The police came and took statements from Faith, Ian, her lodgers and the neighbours but she didn’t hold out much hope of finding the person responsible. She made it clear that she didn’t accuse Olive’s sons, nor did she suggest Matt as a possible suspect. She didn’t want to remind people of her leaving her child.

  The newspapers took up the story and connected it with other similar acts of vandalism, for which she was thankful, but they published a large photograph of her looking at her destroyed garden and for a few there were murmurings of satisfaction at her ‘punishment’.

  After taking photographs of the ruined garden, Ian, Mr Gretorex and several neighbours made a start on clearing it. Vivienne came to do what she could and she was sometimes joined by some of the neighbours. Gareth and Kitty helped too and despite the chilly weather bonfires were once more an excuse for eating baked potatoes as a pleasant end to an afternoon’s work. Many of the plants were past saving, but there were plenty that accepted the harsh, aggressive pruning and struggled to show signs of life. As Christmas approached the garden was left in peace and they waited patiently to see what spring would bring.

  Whatever had kept Ian away for those weeks was forgotten, and thankfully Faith prepared for Christmas with friends.

  Christmas shopping with Winnie was fun, specially as the children’s new bicycles were hidden in Faith’s shed to keep them from prying eyes until Christmas Eve. She helped Ian choose a gift for his mother, and Gareth to buy a pretty bracelet for Kitty.

  The stall selling trees was visited one lunchtime and they spent too much time choosing the perfect shape. Faith ran back to the bakery as excited as a child at the prospect of filling it with baubles and small gifts.

  Winnie was surprised when, on her opening her door one morning, she saw Matt standing there. She instinctively tried to close it but he looked subdued and pleaded with her to listen to him. Paul was at work and she was alone, but she agreed and he stepped inside.

  ‘It’s Christmas, it makes me feel my loss more than ever,’ he said, sitting on the edge of a chair. ‘My little girl, Dorothy, is a year and ten months old and I know I’ll never, ever see her. I pass toy shops and dream of what I’d buy for her.’

  Winnie said nothing; she stared at him, so different from the man who had burst into her home and demanded to see Faith. All uneasiness had gone and she felt deeply sorry for him.

  ‘It’s sad for my mother too,’ he went on in that same low, defeated voice. ‘She has a grandchild she’ll never know. She lied, didn’t she? The child was mine and she lied and gave her away.’ Anger flared in his dark eyes and Winnie stood and opened the door. He left slowly, head bowed, the flash of anger gone. ‘Help me,’ he said. ‘Tell the authorities she was lying. I want my child back.’

  ‘The adoption was legally binding, there’s nothing to be done,’ Winnie said. She watched him walk away, wishing she could help him, her thoughts on him and his painful loss, her friend Faith a guilty, hovering shadow.

  Faith headed back to the house loaded with parcels and mysterious packages. She had bought gifts for Winnie’s three and for Menna’s and Geoff’s children whom she’d looked after for a few months. She was laughing as she struggled with the gate but immediately sobered when she saw Winnie standing at the door with a solemn expression.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked anxiously. ‘You aren’t ill?’

  ‘I’ve seen Matt. Faith, I felt so sorry for him. He’s desperately unhappy, grieving for his child. Are you sure you didn’t make the wrong decision?’

  ‘Do you think I’m not haunted with the terrible fear that I was wrong? That I made a terrible mistake? Awake and in my dreams I continually wonder if Matt was innocent of the charge of attacking that girl.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Faith, I was upset by his visit.’

  ‘I’m not stupid enough to think the man is automatically the one to blame. Women can cheat and lie and twist facts this way and that to save themselves. I know that. I’ll never know the truth about Matt and Ethel Holland and those doubts fill my nightmarish dreams night after night.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. I understand how you feel. I can only tell you that when I read it I believed the newspaper story and I made the only decision possible.’

  She went inside and put her parcels on the kitchen table. Suddenly the decorations looked tawdry, the voices of carol singers coming from Mrs Gretorex’s radio sounded insincere. Her doubts were distorting everything that was good.

  She unpacked her shopping, drank a cup of tea and slowly recovered from the black mood. For the next hour she concentrated on decorating the house with boughs of holly and dried, painted grasses, which were displayed with glittery branches.

  The acquisition of a small fridge meant that food could be stored in readiness. Faith had lists of things to do and things to buy and Kitty jokingly said she would soon need lists of her lists.

  To her delight she met Olive Monk one day as she walked through the fields. At first she didn’t recognize her as she was wearing a riding mac and had wellingtons on her feet. She was clumping along in a most unusual way.

  ‘Olive? Is that you? Are you a farmer now?’

  As before, Olive was apprehensive at first, but seeing the friendly smile on Faith’s face she ran towards her. ‘My dear, it’s lovely to see you.’

  ‘What are you doing out here? I didn’t imagine you as a country girl.’

  ‘Surprise, surprise. I’m living on a farm, or at least, near one.’

  ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘Better than that, I’ll show you. Come on, it isn’t far away.’

  Olive led her across a field and through a hedge and pointed proudly towards the caravan, its windows shining in the bright sunshine. After explaining about her son’s solution to her accommodation problem, she showed Faith proudly around her new home.

  ‘I’ve settled in really well,’ she said as she made a cup of tea for her visitor in her tiny kitchen. ‘One of the farm cats visits regularly and neighbours call for a chat and sometimes bring a bit of cake. And you’d never believe how many customers I’ve got for my catalogue.’ Faith looked at the fat catalogue with interest as Olive explained about regular weekly payments.

  ‘Best of all, I’ve got a bank account. What about that, eh? I send off the weekly cheque like I’ve been dealin
g with banks all my life.’ She thought of asking Faith to become a customer but doubted that Faith would trust her.

  ‘Are your sons all right?’ Faith asked.

  ‘There was a bit of trouble with the police, but it all blew over. They aren’t angels, I know that. They’ve both been in prison for burglary in the past, but they’ve promised to go straight and I believe them.’

  ‘I’m so glad.’ Faith reached out and patted her hand. ‘They must be pleased to know you’re happily settled here.’

  ‘Got jobs they have, lorry driving. And a room in a boarding house where they’re fed well, so I’m happy about them now.’

  ‘Look, why don’t you join us for Christmas Day?’ Olive looked doubtful. ‘Please come,’ Faith pleaded. ‘I’ve really missed you.’

  After a few refusals Olive agreed and then wanted to know all about the new tenants. So additions were made to the lists and Faith excitedly continued with preparations.

  With the approach of Christmas, an occasion she had previously dreaded, Faith welcomed each day with delight. Every spare moment was spent baking. The lodgers were all having Christmas dinner with her and the small dining room was as beautifully decorated as she could manage while still leaving room for six people to eat.

  Ian and his mother were invited to join them for an early supper. The bad times were behind her and she knew that despite moments of grieving for her daughter and moments of guilt about Matt, it was going to be the best Christmas she had ever known.

  On Saturday the twenty-third of December, when the shops had all closed for the holiday, everything changed.