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
PHIL 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.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘There is very little to be done, except to let the police get on with it,’ she answered sadly. ‘I know it’s frustrating, but sooner or later they will find him. You mark my words.’
‘I’m worried about him.’ Phil had suffered many sleepless nights since Adam had been gone. ‘In the letters he tells me he’s well, and that I’m not to worry, but how can I not worry? He says nothing about how he lives, or where he gets his money from. Or what kind of work he might be taking on. And what kind of people would take him on, anyway? He’s just a boy. I can’t even write back to him because he never gives me a return address.’
Growing emotional, he could hardly keep his voice steady. ‘To tell the truth, I’m at my wits’ end.’ Dropping his sorry gaze to the floor, he gave a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘Oh, dear lady, why doesn’t he come home?’
Miss Martin gave a sympathetic little smile. ‘I’m sorry, Phil, I can’t answer that question. But for now, we must be content that he’s keeping in touch. At least we know he must be safe. Isn’t that so?’
Phil nodded his head, but he was too choked up to speak.
Just then the assistant arrived with tea and biscuits.
Miss Martin thanked her, and the woman quickly departed.
Phil grew unusually quiet, his mind heavy with troubling thoughts.
Liz had only recently entrusted him with the information concerning the stolen locket and the ensuing discovery of its contents, which Phil so wanted to share the amazing news with Miss Martin. But he realised how strongly Liz and Jim felt about not releasing the information to anyone else.
They had rightly argued that it was Adam’s private business and no one else’s for the time being. They pointed out, quite rightly, that Michael Slater was a complete stranger, and that Adam might not even want to know him. Also, it was painfully clear that this man had not stood by Adam’s mother when she needed him, or he would have been with he
r and Adam from the start. So, the question remained, what kind of man would desert a woman who was carrying his child?
With that in mind, Liz and Jim were adamant that it was for Adam to decide whether he wanted this man in his life, or not.
Phil himself was undecided as to the best way forward; although his every instinct urged him to discuss the issue with Miss Martin. After all, she seemed a wise and kindly woman, who Adam liked and respected. Moreover, she had many contacts, and she had a canny way of getting to the bottom of things.
Phil’s deep thoughts were interrupted by Miss Martin’s kindly voice. ‘Are you all right?’ She smiled at him across the desk. ‘You seem to be miles away in your thoughts.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he answered lamely, ‘it’s just that I’m so worried about Adam.’
‘I understand that, but I can’t help feeling that you have something else on your mind.’
Phil confessed, ‘You’re right. I do find myself in a sort of dilemma, and I’m not sure which way to go.’
‘Is it something I can help you with?’
‘I’m sure you could, but I believe I’m not at liberty to confide in you.’
‘Really?’ She was both curious and concerned. ‘And why might that be?’
Phil was hesitant. ‘I wonder … if I was to share something with you … something very private and a little difficult, d’you think you could be discreet?’
She smiled. ‘People do say that I’m the soul of discretion. Yes, you can rely on me, I promise. I can see that you’re deeply troubled about something or other, and in my experience a niggling problem is always better out than in. So, if you want to share the burden, I can just listen. Or, if you want, I can maybe give advice.’ She gave a little knowing smile. ‘Or I can do absolutely nothing … if that’s what you want.’
Miss Martin was nobody’s fool. She had come to know and like Phil, and she could see he was deeply troubled. ‘If you’re concerned about me gossiping, have no fear. Whatever confidence you share with me, will never go beyond these four walls.’
Phil believed her, but still he agonised with his conscience. He desperately needed to confide in this dear soul; to tell her of the exciting discovery regarding the locket and the note within it.
Suddenly he was confiding the knowledge he had learned from Liz and Jim. And when he was finished, he shook his head despondently. ‘I should never have told.’ He felt guilty, and yet curiously relieved.
Growing hopeful, he dared to ask, ‘So, will you help us then?’
‘Yes, but firstly, I think you must speak with Liz and Jim. I will help, of course I will, and they must remain determined in their efforts to find Adam. However, if he does return, you should persuade them not to tell Adam of their new-found knowledge regarding his father; at least, not until we can substantiate it. Conversely, once Michael Slater is located, then of course Adam should be made aware that he may have a father whom he knew nothing about.’
Phil was in full agreement as she outlined her terms. ‘There are too many unknown issues here that must be dealt with before Adam is brought into the equation,’ she went on. ‘Firstly, it might take months, even years, to track him down. Secondly, suppose it turns out that this man is not Adam’s blood father? Thirdly, even if he is, it does not follow that he would want to take on a boy he doesn’t even know, and possibly doesn’t even care about.’
‘I agree with everything you say.’ Phil was delighted by her response. ‘It’s just that Liz and Jim are eager to give Adam the news that the unsavoury character he believed to be his father was never his real father at all. The thing is, nothing is certain yet.’
‘So, do you think you might persuade them to keep this discovery to themselves, at least until I’ve had a chance to verify some of the possibilities?’
Phil was thrilled. ‘I can’t thank you enough, because I know if anyone can locate this man, and get to the truth, it’s you.’
‘You know I can’t promise anything, except to do my utmost, for you, and Adam. I do have numerous contacts in far-flung places, and if you promise to speak with Liz and Jim, I can get on to it straightaway. So, do you think you can persuade them not to tell Adam … at least for now?’
Phil did not hesitate. ‘I know they’ll understand when I tell them that you’ve decided to help us. With you searching for the man we all hope is Adam’s real father, that leaves us able to throw all our efforts into finding Adam.’
They shook hands, and while Phil left with a smile on his face, Miss Martin was already sifting through her contacts list.
On a fine, dry day, Miss Martin turned her little black car into the street, some time after Phil’s visit to see her.
Parking the car halfway down, she shifted it out of gear and turned off the engine. She then gathered her small briefcase into her arms, and got out of the car. After a glance up and down, she mentally registered the number sequence on the doors. ‘Ah … this way, I think.’ She proceeded to walk along the pavement, checking the door numbers.
The house with the two flowerpots outside was numbered to correspond with the number in her notepad.
She made her way up the path and knocked on the door. By nature she was a stalwart and confident figure, but this particular errand today felt more like a part of her own life than a matter of professional interest. Realising how important the outcome of this meeting was to Adam, she felt decidedly nervous.
When there was no answer to her modest tapping on the door, she took a deep breath and gave a resounding knock on the door panel.
Inside the house, Sally was running the upright Hoover over the carpet, and had not heard the first knock. ‘Oh, who the devil’s that?’ It had been one of those mornings. She had already changed the bed, done a pile of washing and baked a cake for the woman next door – it was her daughter’s tenth birthday tomorrow and she was hopeless at baking.
‘All right! I’m coming.’ Switching off the Hoover, Sally rushed to the door and flung it open. She was surprised to see a very matronly looking woman standing on her doorstep. ‘Can I help you?’
Miss Martin was relieved to see this very ordinary though pretty woman answering the door. ‘Thank you, yes. I hope you don’t mind this intrusion, but I’m looking for a Michael Slater. He does live here, doesn’t he?’ After flicking through her notepad, she showed it to Sally. ‘This is the right address, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes … that’s our address.’ Slightly frazzled by piles of housework and a late Friday night that left her tired, Sally was somewhat impatient. ‘Sorry, but … might I ask what you want with my husband?’ Thinking her visitor both polite and official, she was a little concerned.
‘I’m sorry, please forgive me, but it’s a rather delicate matter and I do need to speak with Michael Slater … if he’s at home?’ She felt awkward. She had hoped he would be alone, but now that she was faced with his wife, she was uncertain as to whether it might be wise to come back another time. The news she was bringing, would no doubt be a shock to Michael, but possibly even more of a shock to his wife, who in the event must surely be made aware of her purpose for this visit.
Miss Martin, however, felt her responsibility was to speak with Michael. It was then for him to speak with his wife.
Suddenly he was there. ‘Yes, I’m at home.’ Having come in from the shed, he was still in his work overalls and with oil stains on his smiley face. He opened the door wider. ‘So who wants me?’ He smiled at Sally, but Sally was not amused.
Miss Martin was staggered to realise how much Adam resembled Michael: the same bright eyes and smiley face. The same thick, wild hair. She was deeply shaken but excited, yet managed to compose herself. After all, a smiley face, and a mop of wild hair was not enough to go on.
‘This lady asked for you, Mick,’ Sally said lightly. ‘She needs to discuss a delicate matter, but doesn’t seem at all keen on talking to me.’
She opened the door wider. ‘Please … do come in.’ After ushering Miss Martin inside, she t
hen ordered her husband, ‘You go and get cleaned up, while I put the kettle on.’
Gesturing to the lounge door, she asked Miss Martin, ‘Please … go and sit down, while I make us a pot of tea … or would you prefer a cold drink?’ She was curious as to why this woman might want to speak with Michael.
Upstairs, Mick was wondering the very same. ‘What the devil does she want with me?’ he muttered as he washed and changed. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever clapped eyes on her before.’
Miss Martin thanked Sally for her kind offer of tea, which, after her journey, would go down very nicely. ‘Tea would be lovely,’ she said, and watched as Sally went away. She hoped her visit here today would not wreck this marriage.
It seemed no time at all before Sally was back with the tray. ‘So … what’s this “delicate matter” you mentioned?’ She set the tray down and poured out three teas. ‘Sugar … er … I don’t know your name?’
‘It’s Miss Martin … and please, forgive my manners.’ She smiled up at Sally. ‘Oh … yes, two sugars, thank you.’
She felt awkward. ‘I’m sorry, but … would it be possible for me to see Michael alone?’
‘Mick and I have no secrets. I’m sure he would want me here.’
‘Yes! Of course I want you here.’ At that moment, Michael returned to find the visitor seated in the armchair. Sally was seated a distance away, on the sofa. ‘Right! So, what’s this all about?’ He addressed the visitor, but glanced at Sally. When she looked away, it made him curiously uneasy.
Miss Martin was also uneasy. She felt awkward with Sally in the room. ‘It’s difficult,’ she said, as Mick sat down in the chair opposite. ‘I’ll be honest with you both. I was hoping I might talk with Michael, first, and then the two of you could discuss the matter after I’ve gone.’
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