The Runaway (8 page)

‘No,’ Faith said defiantly, unable to put up with any more of his rudeness. ‘The decision to come was yours. Perhaps in future you’ll trust me to tell you when your presence is urgently needed.’

‘I’ll stay the night,’ he said. ‘I’ve brought an overnight bag.’

‘I’ll go and put towels and soap in your room,’ she replied. She stopped at the doorway and added, ‘Perhaps, as you’re staying, I can go out this evening? There’s a film I would like to see.’ She didn’t fancy spending an evening with him in the house.

‘What about dinner?’ he demanded.

‘I’ll serve that before I go.’

She didn’t go to the cinema but instead caught a bus into Cardiff and just walked around the streets, hoping her anger would dissipate before it was time to go back. Samuel was a very unpleasant man and she wondered how someone as sweet and gentle as Mrs Thomas could have produced an aggressive, ill-tempered son like him. Thoughts went from there to her own daughter. If there was such a contrast between Mrs Thomas and her son, then could it have been the same between Matt and his daughter? Perhaps there was no certainty that her own child would have been a replica of Matt.

Had she been hasty? No, she decided firmly. To have stayed would have meant Matt’s involvement in her baby’s upbringing and maybe that was where the likeness would have developed, by example; the cruel indifference to people weaker than himself. The urge to force vulnerable people to do his bidding needn’t have shown itself in the same way but it could still have been a part of the child’s character.

She tried not to use the baby’s name, not even in her thoughts. That would make her seem more real, even though the face was still a blank, empty oval, surrounded by that dark, spiky hair which was all she remembered.

It was evening. Most of the cafés were closed and she wasn’t brave enough to go into a public house on her own. Even in this new decade, the exciting sixties, she couldn’t do that. She would go back to the station and look up the time of the next train. The tempting smell of fish and chips was on the air, reminding her she hadn’t eaten dinner, she’d been in too much of a hurry to get away from Samuel. She ignored it, promising herself a sandwich when she got back, and hurried on.

As she passed the Catholic church she heard someone call her name and she turned to see two people running towards her.

‘Faith! It’s me, Ian. We saw you passing and it took a while to park the car. Whew, I haven’t run so fast in years,’ he said, as he reached her, trying to catch his breath. ‘This is Mam and, fair play, she kept up with me. Good on her, eh?’

Laughing, her sad mood forgotten, Faith held out her hand. ‘Well done indeed, Mrs Day. You seem fitter than your son.’

‘I go to Keep Fit and he drives everywhere,’ Mrs Day replied.

‘We were just going for fish and chips, will you come with us?’ Ian asked.

‘Well, I was just about to go home,’ she said doubtfully.

Ian tilted his head on one side, a pleading expression on his face which was replicated on his mother’s. Again Faith laughed, ‘But there’s no hurry. Mrs Thomas’s son is there, so yes. I’d love to.’

‘And we’ll drive you home afterwards,’ he promised, taking both their arms and striding off back towards the source of the appetizing smell.

The time they spent together was pleasant. Ian and his mother, Vivienne, had a similar sense of humour and remarks bounced from one to the other at speed – they frequently came out with a remark at the same time.

At first Faith was a little subdued by them but, as she relaxed in their company, she began to add her own comments to theirs,
flattered
by their genuine laughter.

Vivienne explained that she had lost her husband in the war and was now working in a school as a dinner lady, cooking food for the children and staff each day. Having the school experience in common and with Ian asking questions the conversation buzzed and the time went fast. They had met as strangers but were parting as friends.

Ian insisted on driving her home. When she stopped at the gate she was surprised to see the lights on the porch and in the hall were out. ‘Dear considerate Samuel has obviously gone to bed without leaving a light to help me find my way,’ she muttered.

Ian turned the car until the headlights shone up the drive to the front porch. The keyhole wasn’t where she expected it to be, and she had to feel around with her fingers, but once the key had slipped into the lock she stepped inside after a final wave and a hoarsely called, ‘Thank you.’ He tooted the horn in response.

She went in quietly and headed for the kitchen where she made herself a cup of tea. As she poured the boiling water into the pot, Mrs
Thomas came in and whispered. ‘Where did you go, dear? Was it a good film? And who gave you a lift home? Tell me all about it.’

Faith explained about the previous times she had met Ian Day, and how she had joined him and his mother for the unexpected supper.

‘So you’ve met the mother, that’s serious,’ Mrs Thomas said, and they were giggling like children, partly with the effort of whispering, when Samuel came down.

‘I can’t believe this, Miss Pryor! Coming in late and disturbing my mother with horns blaring, lights flashing and now giving her tea at this hour of the night.’

‘Would you like a cup, dear?’ Mrs Thomas asked with a smile. ‘It’s very weak and milky, mind, but Faith won’t allow strong tea after six p.m.’

After settling Mrs Thomas back in bed, Faith washed the dishes and went to her room, where she stared at the night beyond the window and relived the unexpectedly enjoyable evening. It had been an exciting end to a day that had included coping with Samuel.

Two days later, a letter arrived thanking her for a pleasant
interlude
and hoping they would meet again soon. It was signed by Ian and his mother, Vivienne Day. She showed it to Mrs Thomas, who said. ‘My dear, I enjoyed it too, sharing it with you, I mean. It was such an exciting end to a rather tedious day with Samuel. Poor boy, he can’t help it, he’s like his father, taking everything so seriously and being afraid of enjoying himself.’

Thoughtfully, Faith asked, ‘Do you believe children inherit
attitudes
, and likes and dislikes from their parents? Does environment play its part too?’

‘Such a serious question, dear. But yes, I suppose we all carry
something
of our parents in us.’ She saw an odd expression cross Faith’s face and quickly added, ‘Yours must have been gentle and loving, so don’t start imagining things,’ she added, afraid Faith was brooding on her lack of knowledge about her family.

‘What about criminal behaviour? Would that make a child more likely to follow the same course?’

‘Ah, I doubt that very much. That must be most frequently down to deprivation, don’t you think? Apart from those who have
everything
and can’t find contentment. But that kind of wrongdoing is less common.’

Faith thought about her words but they didn’t give her any peace.
If Mrs Thomas was right, then she had left her daughter for no good reason.

As autumn took the last of the gaudy colours of summer and gave its display of still beautiful but more subdued tones, Mrs Thomas went out in the garden less and less. Sometimes she was persuaded to dress warmly and sit on the porch for a while as Faith and she sipped a hot drink but as Christmas approached she rarely left her chair. Faith would help her dress in the mornings and guide her downstairs, and in the evening prepared her for a bedtime that came earlier and earlier.

The doctor came and offered medicine and advice, but Mrs Thomas refused to allow Faith to tell her son. Faith mentioned this in front of the doctor but he smiled and agreed with his patient. ‘We don’t want Samuel bothered unnecessarily, do we, Mrs Thomas,’ he said, and Faith saw him wink.

When Samuel did call, his visits were brief and seemed to consist of a search for reasons to complain about Faith. He seemed unaware of the changes in his mother, as she sat at the table and poured tea, chatting brightly and pretending everything was as it should be. It wasn’t until he had gone that she showed the weariness the effort had caused her. But still she refused permission for him to be told. On one occasion in November he stayed and kept her talking long beyond her usual bedtime, persistently asking the same questions about when she intended to leave her home and find a place where she would be properly cared for. Faith heard them arguing and she waited in
frustrated
concern for Samuel to leave. Mrs Thomas was overtired when he left, slamming out of the house, like a spoilt child unable to get his own way.

On the following day she was tired and unable to rest. Faith rang the doctor to discuss her employer’s condition. She suggested the reason for it and he called, gave Mrs Thomas a sedative and made her promise to stay in bed for the day. She refused her meals, insisting she was too weary to eat, and stayed in bed all the following day too.

‘I have a visitor coming this afternoon,’ Faith was told two days later. ‘Would you mind leaving us alone, dear?’

‘Of course not. I might try and take the bean sticks down and I really must move the dahlias before the frost ruins them.’

In fact there were several visitors. The first two were a young man whom she didn’t know, with an elderly man who she thought looked
like a bank manager or a solicitor. The next to arrive was the doctor who waved as he stepped inside. She prepared a tray of tea for them and then went into the garden. It wasn’t her business and Mrs Thomas would call when she was needed.

An hour later she heard the door open and conversation floated on the air. She looked towards the door and saw the group all leaving at once. Again the doctor waved, then he called, ‘You can go in now, Miss Pryor, Mrs Thomas would enjoy another cup of tea, I think.’

Faith went in, talking before reaching the living room about what she had achieved in the garden, not wanting there to be a silence that could be construed as her expecting to be told what had gone on. It was probably something to do with a will, she guessed, and Mrs Thomas’s private business was not in her domain.

Days passed. Then Samuel arrived one Saturday and explained that he would be staying for the night. ‘You can go out if you wish,’ he said, ‘but don’t make a noise when you get back like last time.’

She prepared his room and thought about Ian. There was no time for a letter to reach him but she wondered whether a phone call to his home would be appropriate. Best not, she decided. She didn’t want to be too presumptuous and besides, she wasn’t free to develop friendships; there were too many skeletons in her proverbial cupboard! And even after all these months Matt could appear at any time; she hadn’t hidden her tracks that carefully and had foolishly stayed in the same town. One day she would have to tell Ian and his mother the truth.

Having rejected the option of calling, she heard the house phone ring and Samuel came in to tell her there was a call for her, reminding her not to make a habit of it, and that he was well aware that she was taking advantage of his mother’s kindness. Panic stiffened every joint in her body and she couldn’t move. Matt. It had to be Matt. Superstitiously she knew it was him because he had been in her thoughts. Only Winnie knew her phone number and she was unlikely to call her here. Matt had found her.

‘Are you coming? They’ll ring off if you stand there much longer.’

Stiff and filled with panic she followed him down the stairs and picked up the phone.

‘It’s Paul. Sorry. I know I shouldn’t worry you, but I’m desperate. Winnie is in hospital and Mam and Dad are away. Is there any way you can come and look after the children so I can visit her? Just for
today and tomorrow? Her parents will be here then. Please, Faith, is there any chance of you getting a couple of days off?’

The relief of hearing Paul’s voice when she was expecting to hear Matt made her shake. Samuel asked if there was something wrong. ‘One minute,’ she said to Paul, then turned to Samuel. In a voice that still shook, she explained, ‘It’s a friend. She’s in hospital and her husband wonders if I could go there and help with the children for the weekend.’

‘I’ll take mother back with me,’ Samuel said at once.

‘No, it’s all right, I’ll tell her I can’t go. If she goes with you the journey will tire her, I mean, perhaps she doesn’t want to go.’

‘Of course she’ll want to come with me. It’s a while since she came on a visit. Tell your friend you can stay until midday on Monday.’

Faith stared at the phone and he said, ‘Come on, you need to get my mother ready.’

Into the phone, she said. ‘Paul? Yes, it’s all right I can stay until Monday. Give Winnie my love and I’ll see you very soon.’ She cut off his thanks and hurried to attend to Mrs Thomas’s packing.

She hated causing disruption for Mrs Thomas and wished Samuel hadn’t been there when Paul had telephoned. Much as she wanted to help her friend, her first thought was for Mrs Thomas and how she would hate being a visitor in her son’s home for several long days.

It wasn’t until she had seen Mrs Thomas and her son off that the panic she had felt when she phone call came returned, at double strength. She was going to stay with Winnie, just around the corner from Matt and his mother. She was certain to be seen. She set off on her journey feeling like a woman walking towards her death. All the confidence she had built up had vanished and she was that other person, the woman who was afraid to tell Matt she was leaving; afraid he would make her tell him why. She caught the local bus and all the time she kept her head down, convinced that if she raised it he would be there. She reached the house and the welcome she had from Jack, Bill and Polly made it worth the anxieties. Of course she was right to come. Winnie and Paul were friends and she had been wrong to think, even for a moment, of letting them down.

She stayed in the house and hoped for a miracle. They had made the children promise not to tell anyone she was there, explaining it was a secret, a game, but Faith had little confidence in their
self-control
. A secret is a wonderful thing to share.