The Broken Man (35 page)

She listened again and her fears were soothed. ‘Oh, thank you so much. So, he had a good night?’ She gave a sigh of relief. ‘That’s wonderful, thank you. Could you please tell him I’ll be there very shortly? Thank you.’

She decided not to tell Jim what Alice had done. There would be time enough for that when he was stronger.

With an easier mind, she replaced the receiver and made her way upstairs on tiptoe. Satisfied that the children were still fast asleep, she went down to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, which she carried into the other room. Placing the cup and saucer on the arm of the sofa, she opened the curtains.

Already the street was coming alive. John Miller, opposite, was off on his bike to carry out his postman duties, and down the street she could hear a car revving up. Liz gave a hint of a smile. Through thick and thin, good or bad, life still went on. Thank goodness.

Returning to the sofa, she collected her cup and saucer, and as she sat down, something glittering on the carpet caught her eye. On closer inspection she saw that it was Adam’s locket.

Realising she must have dropped it in the night, she feared it might be broken. She carefully examined it. On first sight it seemed intact, but when she turned it around, she was concerned to notice a slight twist on the side, where it seemed to have a split along the rim.

Curious, she took it to the window and examined it closer. ‘That’s strange …’ She moved her finger along the side rim, and, yes, she could feel the slightest bump. A closer look revealed the tiniest catch, woven into the pattern in such a way that it was hard to see at first glance.

Liz was curious. She guessed it was probably hiding a lock of hair, maybe Adam’s from when he was a baby.

She knew lockets were often used for that purpose. She examined the filigree patterns and the intricate raised heart on the front. The design was very special and unlike anything she had seen before.

She turned it over in her hand, thinking it had to be a lover’s gift. The way the morning light danced off the front, reflecting its glory, was simply breathtaking.

Liz was curious. From what she knew about Edward Carter, she could never imagine him buying such a lovely thing.

When taking Adam for fostering, she and Jim were officially made aware of Adam’s background. They knew Edward Carter was now imprisoned.

Curious, she turned the locket over again to see if there was an inscription anywhere, but she could see none. The only marks on both chain and locket were official hallmarks.

She ran her fingers over the tiny catch. Feeling guilty, she put the locket down. A moment later, intrigued, she picked it up again.

Twice, she tried to shift the catch and each time it held fast.

Frustrated, she laid the locket on the arm of the chair while she finished her tea, before taking the cup and saucer into the kitchen.

On returning to the front room, she stood a moment just gazing at the locket until her curiosity got the better of her. When she now made a determined effort to open it, the catch suddenly popped up, and the locket sprang open. To her surprise, a small square of folded paper fluttered to the carpet.

Liz bent to pick it up and carefully unfolded it. The writing was tiny, but readable:

My darling Adam,

This locket was a gift from Michael Slater, a man whom I loved as a girl. You are the only one who knows where I keep the locket, so if you now have this note, I am probably no longer alive. You need to know that Michael Slater is your true father. He gave me this locket before I met Edward Carter, who always thought you were his son.

Please forgive me, Adam. Be strong. I love you so very much.

Mum x

Liz was mortified that she’d pried into the locket, for the message was both revealing, and extremely private. It was not meant for a stranger’s eyes.

With the locket clutched in one hand and the note in the other, she sat heavily on the sofa and wondered about the ramifications of what it meant for Adam.

Edward and Adam Carter believed they were father and son, when in fact his true father was a man called Michael Slater. She worked it out in her mind: Adam’s mother said she loved this Michael Slater
before
she met Edward Carter … so she must have been pregnant with Adam, when she married Carter. And he never even knew.

She wondered about Adam’s father, Michael Slater. Why had she and Adam’s true father gone their separate ways? Maybe Michael Slater was already married. Or maybe she told him she was pregnant, and for whatever reason, he didn’t want to know.

It was a mystery, and one that was not altogether uncommon. Sometimes, these things happened, and the girl might have no other choice but to trick a man into marriage, because she needed the child to be legitimate.

Liz paced up and down for a time, wondering how she might deal with this information.
Talk to Phil!
Yes, that was it!

Her first priority for now, though, was her own family, not least the love of her life, who she may so easily have lost for ever if it had not been for Adam. A boy not quite fourteen years of age, with no home, no family, and nowhere to go, and he was out there, possibly alone, and afraid.

Unless Phil could help to locate him, that innocent boy, through no fault of his own, was headed for a bleak future.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
HE SUN HAD
risen, but Adam was still sleeping.

Having run ahead of its owner, the dog quickly found Adam, fast asleep and bundled up against the chilly night. Excited, it pounced on him, licking his face with its leathery tongue.

‘Hey!’ Taken unawares, Adam scrambled up, greatly relieved when he saw it was just a friendly, scruffy little dog. ‘Hello, you.’ He ruffled its coat and waggled its ears, and not for the first time, he wished he had a dog of his own.

‘Come ’ere, boy!’ The dog’s owner was a ruddy-faced man with a walking stick. ‘Sorry about that,’ he told Adam. ‘He were just being friendly.’

Adam assured him it was all right, and the man went on his way with the dog, occasionally glancing back. Wiping the dog’s slaver from his face, Adam gave him a little farewell wave.

After the man and dog were out of sight, he leaned back against the tree and glanced about. The skies above were morning grey, while the sun was trying its utmost to break through. The ground beneath his feet was hard and rocky. There was not a soul about; not even a bird singing. All around was eerily silent, save for the gentlest whipping of the tree branches when the breeze began to play.

In that moment, it seemed to Adam that he was the only person left in the world. It was an exciting, though somewhat disturbing, feeling.

‘Come on, Adam. Move yourself !’ he said aloud. Drawing his coat about him, he knew he had better get well away from these parts.

He thought of Jim, and he truly regretted what had happened, though he was greatly relieved to know that Jim was now in safe hands.

He took stock of his own situation.
I’d best get word to Phil
, he thought.
But I’m not going back, not ever.

He was the one who had made the decision to leave, so why did he feel abandoned?
What do I do now? Which way do I go? How do I live?
So many questions passed through his mind, and so many fears, too.

He stood up straight, shoulders taut and head high. He dismissed each question with an answer.
First, you find work. Then you find lodgings. You say nothing about your age, or where you come from
. The sad truth, for now at least, was that he had no idea where he might be headed.

After living with Jim’s family, he now felt incredibly lonely, but he also felt stronger, more able to face the obstacles life might put in his way.
Don’t lose sight of who you are
, he told himself.
What you do from now on is up to you and no one else. It’s time to make your own way in the world
.

Before he set off, he spared a moment for his mother. ‘Someone took your locket, Mum,’ he whispered sadly. ‘They took everything.’

When the inevitable tears fell, he sat on the ground; folding his arms over his head, he sobbed as though he would never stop.

When the tears were spent he felt a rush of anger. ‘I hope Edward Carter gets what he deserves,’ he said aloud, his voice grating like the hatred within him. ‘I hope he suffers for what he did to my mother!’

He shook the bad thoughts clear and stood up. Where to go?

He glanced back in the direction of the farmhouse where he’d left Jim. He wanted to thank the farmer and his wife for what they did, but in the end he could not bring himself to go back. It was enough for him to know that Jim was now being taken care of.

Turning his head, he looked in the direction of the place where he had found a family, and a measure of peace for a time, and he thought of Liz, and Alice.

For a moment he was sorely tempted to go back, but the moment passed and he decided to take the same route as the man with his dog.

The minute he started walking he felt as though he had the body of an old man; every bone creaked and groaned. This was the price he must pay for having got Jim to safety, and for choosing the cramped and rocky place where he’d laid his head to sleep.

He kept his pace steady, and the further he walked, the easier it seemed to get. When he got to the neck of the canal, which was far from the spot where Jim got caught up in the bindweed, he walked along the towpath until he found a private little curve in the bend. Here was where the water narrowed, and the risk of anyone seeing him was remote.

Stripping naked, he rolled his belongings into a tight ball and with great care he hid them under a pile of leaves and branches. Then he dived lazily into the water, shivering as he floated free for a time.

The experience was heavenly. The weight was gone from his joints and the water was immensely soothing. And now that the sun was coming alive, he could feel the warmth caress his bare, wet skin. He closed his eyes and let the water take him where it would.

After a time, he spun over and swam back to the place where he’d hidden his clothes. He clambered out and, finding his clothes, he quickly put them on, before anyone might come this way.

Feeling cleaner and fresher, and much easier in his bones, he walked on, following the path taken by the man and his dog.

The dog had reminded him of Phil’s little dog, Rex. He missed Phil. He wondered how long it might be before he would see him again.

First, though, he had things to do, and places to go. But wherever he went he would let Phil know. He owed him that much at least.

As his journey progressed, he wondered about that boy who had been taken to the children’s home. He made himself forget, for that boy was not him. Never again would he be that boy.

Time had moved on, and life had taken his childhood.

He had lost not only his darling mother, but, with her, the only real and true love he had ever known. Nothing on earth would ever replace that.

It was time to face up to the harsh truth. From now on, he must take responsibility for himself. It would not be easy, he realised, but he would learn, because life itself, with all its trials, joys and impossible journeys, was the best teacher of all. Like it or not, he was already on the longest journey.

At this moment, in this place, he had no idea where the journey might take him.

It was a daunting thought.

PART FIVE

The Girl

1959

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

P
HIL HAD MADE
this journey many times when Adam was living at the children’s home, but this time he was angry, and deeply worried.

Miss Martin had grown to know Phil very well since Adam had gone missing, some months back. ‘Hello, Phil. Come inside,’ she greeted him. She led him down the hall to her office, talking as she went. ‘I’m afraid there is still nothing to report.’

After ordering tea and biscuits from the kitchen, she told Phil, with much regret, ‘Although the police have not been able to find him, they do assure me that they’re still on the case.’

Phil had heard it all before. ‘That’s not good enough.’

Dipping into his pocket, he slid the letter across the desk. ‘That one arrived this very morning. It’s the fifth letter I’ve had in these past months, and they’re all stamped from different parts of the country. And still they haven’t been able to trace Adam. Why is that?
Tell me … have
they given up on him?’

Miss Martin was adamant. ‘Dear me, no, Phil! The boy is not yet fifteen. It’s their bounden duty to find him, and they will. They have traced the letters as far as they can, but still no sight of Adam. We just have to be patient.’