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Authors: Grace Thompson

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BOOK: The Runaway
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‘I had no idea she was going to do this. She certainly didn’t mention anything.’ Faith looked from the benign face of the solicitor to the now angry face of Samuel. ‘Are you suggesting I put pressure on her?’ she demanded, rising to her feet. ‘I can assure you I did not.’ The solicitor shook his head, wearing a half-smile as he looked at Samuel, warning him to say nothing more.

She remembered the visit of the solicitor, the doctor and others whom she presumed to be witnesses to a will shortly before the old lady’s death. Turning to the solicitor she asked, ‘Did this happen recently? Was that why you came to see her in the week before her death?’

‘No, it was added to her will several weeks before, on Monday 28 March to be precise. She told me she was delighted to have found you, said you were a dear friend. More recently, Mrs Thomas arranged a meeting with a doctor and others to be reassured that her wishes would not be overturned.’ It was his turn to glare at Samuel. ‘Now, if there is nothing further, Mr Thomas?’ Rising, clearly dismissing them, he added, ‘It will be a few weeks before everything is settled, Mr Thomas. My secretary will be in touch to arrange
another appointment.’ Then he smiled as he handed Faith a cheque. ‘Thank you for coming. I wish you joy of it, Miss Pryor. Whatever you chose to do with it, I hope it will give you great pleasure.’ He walked behind them to the door and after closing it he muttered, ‘I wish it had been more!’

Faith went out holding the cheque in her hand, glancing down at it as she walked to the bank. It offered many opportunities, but her thoughts were too jumbled to think of how it would be used. She was still angry at Samuel’s suspicions and only the rather satisfied smile on the face of the solicitor had calmed her anger sufficiently to walk out with dignity.

The money went into her bank account and she walked away from the counter with realization dawning. There was now no urgency to find work once the three months of childminding were over. She could move right away from here, put as much distance as she needed to be sure she’d never see Matt again. Or she could retrain for a new career, buy a second-hand car, take time out and travel, she could perhaps rent a house of her own. The opportunities opened out. Firstly she would talk to Winnie, who was thankfully recovered from her illness. Perhaps this time she’d decide to stay, not take the usual option of running away.

‘Wonderful news!’ Winnie exclaimed when Faith once again phoned the corner shop. ‘Come on, let’s meet in Cardiff and
celebrate
.’

‘That will be a second celebration. I’m going back to invite Jean Painter, my new landlady, for her favourite treat: egg and chips at a café. No, better than that,
double
egg and chips,’ she joked.

On the following day she thought seriously about how the money would be used. The day was cold, with a cruel wind whipping around every corner. She didn’t take the boys to the park as she usually did and instead took out paper, scissors, pencils and crayons. She
entertained
them by encouraging them to draw pictures and make simple models which they then coloured.

Using their handiwork she talked about shape and colour and later they proudly discussed with their parents what they had learned. For Faith the day was sheer enjoyment and she knew what she wanted to do with her life. It was an idea that had entered her thoughts from time to time, but which she had abandoned as an impossibility. With the generous gift from Mrs Thomas, she would start a saving plan
which one day would be used to open a day nursery for pre-school children.

She felt warmed by having made the decision, aware that it would be far into the future, but knowing that it was undoubtedly the right one. But first she had to earn money and add to her savings. Buying equipment and renting accommodation would take a lot more than one hundred pounds but it was a very encouraging start. She silently thanked her employer who had also been her friend.

She had heard nothing more from Ian and she assumed that he had grown tired of her evasive attitude. She hesitated to call him. Until Matt was somehow completely out of the picture she wasn’t able to cope with any close friends, specially one who might become something more. Then she met his mother.

‘Faith. Faith, dear, wait for me or I’ll soon be out of puff!’

Faith heard the call and was filled with dread. The voice sounded like Matt’s mother’s and the instinct to run was strong. Forcing herself to turn around it was with relief that she recognized Ian’s mother, who had dropped her baskets and was standing gasping for breath. ‘Heavens, dear, I haven’t run as fast as that for years!’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Day. I didn’t realize you were calling me.’ She picked up the shopping and said, ‘Come on, there’s a café across the road. I’ll buy you a cup of tea to apologize.’

She brought Mrs Day up to date with what had happened since Mrs Thomas had died and was scolded for not letting Ian know where she had gone. ‘He likes you, dear, and hopes you consider him a friend.’

‘I do, but life is so complicated. So many changes. I don’t know what I want, and everything is so up in the air, I wake sometimes and wonder where I am and what I’m doing.’

‘Your accommodation, is it comfortable?’

‘Yes, and Jean Painter provides me with meals as well as the room so I’m very lucky. And looking after Menna Gardener’s three boys has given me an idea for the future.’ She discussed her idea of opening a nursery and as she talked the idea began to grow.

As they stood to leave Mrs Day said, ‘Come and have lunch with us one day. What about Sunday?’ she added quickly as she saw Faith begin to frown. ‘Ian will come for you and he’ll take you back. Lovely it’ll be, just the three of us.’

‘Thank you. That would be very nice.’ Trying to hide her anxiety
Faith asked, ‘Where do you live?’ If it was anywhere near Matt she would find an excuse not to go.

‘Up by Victoria Park, and please, call me Vivienne,’ she was told, and she sighed inwardly with relief.

Ian came for her at twelve and took her to a house that was warm and welcoming. There were flowers everywhere, some fresh and some dried and many made of paper. The table was set perfectly and fires in the dining room and living room were blazing brightly. It was a new and wonderful feeling to have someone take so much trouble for her.

The house was quite large, with two bay-windowed rooms at the front and two more rooms downstairs. Behind the house was a long, level garden and beyond lay fields just perfect for taking children on nature walks. She imagined such a place as accommodation for her nursery and dreamed of where each activity would take place.

She met Ian and Vivienne several times during the following days, which took them up to Christmas 1960. Sometimes Ian and his mother were together, sometimes he was alone and they walked and talked, but always she had that tight feeling in her heart, knowing she was keeping from him the most important story of all. Her daughter was ten months old, crawling, standing maybe, and beginning to develop her unique personality. She had left it too long and now it seemed impossible to explain.

She did tell him something about her sad childhood and the years before Matt came into her life and ruined it completely.

‘It was the evacuation of children during the war that separated me from my family,’ she told him. ‘My sister Joy and I were promised a place where we could stay together but we were separated at once and I didn’t hear from either Joy or my parents again.’

‘Weren’t there organizations to deal with reunions after the war?’ he asked.

‘I tried them all, but my father was dead and nothing was known of my mother. I went from the evacuee accommodation to a children’s home. I went from one authority to another which would have made it difficult for them to find me. Then I was fostered several times.’

‘Was that better?’

‘It might have been, some places were better than others.’ She smiled. ‘I ran away several times and once I got on a train convinced that at the other end of the journey I’d find my family. I was labelled
as a troublesome child and that meant yet another new foster-family, then another and another. I eventually settled with a childless couple but they almost immediately learned that they were expecting a child of their own. I had been chosen as a substitute long after they had given up hoping, but with the birth of Jane everything changed. I was no longer wanted, but I think they tried to do what was right; keeping me instead of sending me back to the home was what they thought was best for me.’

‘And there you stayed until you decided to move on?’

‘I left when it was decided I was old enough to manage on my own. They did their best, I was fed and clothed and looked after but never loved, specially after Jane was born. I was very difficult, I have to admit that, and I definitely made things worse. They went on
holidays
to which I wasn’t invited. I had to go into the home each time, until they got back.’

‘But you managed to train as a teacher. That must have taken determination.’

‘As sometimes happens with children like me, difficult,
argumentative
but with something they recognize as possibilities, a teacher took an interest and talked to my foster-parents. She explained that my difficult behaviour was partly frustration, that I was bright and offered to coax me through my exams.

‘Fortunately and thanks to that dedicated teacher, I won a scholarship. I had no friends, so no distractions and I concentrated on my work. I sailed through the exams and qualified as a teacher in 1958 and …’

She shrugged and turned away as though that was the end of the story. She couldn’t tell him the rest. How could she explain clinging to Nick in desperation when it was fear of loneliness and not love that made her dream of marrying him? Or why she had moved in with Matt when she was far from sure it was what she wanted? Or how she had given in to Matt’s persuasions when he decided she was ready for love, and had even booked a wedding that she didn’t want. And worst of all, how could she look at Ian’s kind and loving face and tell him she had given birth to a child then walked away from her? They went into a café and Ian asked no more questions, sensing her reluctance to say more.

His own story was simple. He was twenty-five, had completed his two years’ National Service, which he served in the RAF, and was
now a salesman driving from town to town on a series of regular routes, selling office equipment. ‘And I still live at home with my mam,’ he said with a smile. ‘I know I should have moved on, but she’s alone and we get on so well that staying seems the sensible thing to do.’

‘You’ve never been married?’ she asked.

‘I came close,’ he said. ‘The house where we live was bought with the intention of living there with my then fiancée. She left. It was terrible at first although perhaps the embarrassment of explaining to friends was a large part of that.’ He reached out and held her hands, staring into her eyes, his own crinkled with his smile. ‘Now I feel nothing but relief.’

‘I thought Nick and I might marry, but I don’t think we’d have been happy.’

‘Nick?’ he queried. ‘My fiancée Tessa went off with someone called Nick.’

Comparing notes they unravelled the coincidence. ‘No wonder we get on so well,’ Ian said with a chuckle. ‘We’re both happy rejects!’

 

It had been arranged with Menna Gardener for Faith to have one day a week completely free from the boys and on one of these days she went to Cardiff to meet Winnie. They met in a café where Faith sat in a corner facing the door, warily watching people as they entered, unable to completely relax, afraid of seeing Matt or Carol or someone who knew them. She also continued with the fanciful idea that one day she would see her sister and recognize her, even though they hadn’t met since she was one year old and Joy was three.

Their day was spent walking around the shops, stopping twice more to sit in a café and talk, amusing each other by relating stories about the children. They didn’t see the man who ran the newsagency a few doors away from Matt and Carol. He stopped and watched them for a few moments then hurried off.
This will be something to tell Matt.
He couldn’t wait to get home.

 

Winnie was getting the children to bed, Paul was watching the
television
when there was an impatient banging on the door. Paul answered it and Matt burst in calling for Winnie.

‘Hey! Get out of here!’ Paul shouted, grabbing the man and trying to push him back out through the door.

‘Where’s your wife? She knows where Faith is and I demand that she tells me.’

Winnie came slowly down the stairs three little heads watching from the banisters.

‘Leave now, Matt and I’ll come and talk to you later. Otherwise,’ she added as he struggled to reach her, ‘Paul will phone the police.’

‘Just tell me where she is.’

‘Later, Matt.’

Matt relaxed, his shoulders bowed, but as he left he straightened up, raised a fist and said. ‘You’d better come or I’ll come looking for you, right?’

‘That’s it. My wife isn’t coming anywhere near you,’ Paul warned and as the man began to struggle again, using aggressive language, Winnie said, ‘Look at yourself, Matt! Do you really need me to explain why she left you?’

‘I never harmed Faith. What’s she been telling you?’

After a few more attempts to persuade Winnie to talk, Matt left. ‘I know she’s in Cardiff, that’s where you were seen,’ he shouted, as Paul closed the door behind him. Winnie and Paul discussed things for a while then Winnie wrote to Faith explaining what had happened.

Faith read the letter and sighed. Cardiff was a forbidden area for a while, and meeting Winnie was too risky. What a mistake she had made by running away. If she’d been strong enough to face up to it things would have been sorted out by now and she would be free of him. But thinking of the baby she couldn’t really have any regrets. The baby could not have been given to him, and that was the reason why she acted the way she had. This was her burden to bear, she had brought it upon herself with her weakness in not standing up to Matt. Walk away from him, that’s what she should have done, not let things go on until she’d had to walk away from her tiny, helpless baby.

BOOK: The Runaway
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