The Runaway

by Grace Thompson

  ‘Let’s forget Olive Monk and her muddles and enjoy the beach with the children.’

  The weather wasn’t perfect. Summer was almost spent, but the sun shone and for anyone living in the town that meant fun at the beach. There were quite a number of families enjoying the afternoon and the relaxing activities on the warm sand. Boys played football, girls dared to paddle in the cold water’s edge and ran back screaming as though it had been painful – which it probably had. Women built sand tables, covered them with cloths and set out food. A few brave souls went in for a swim.

  When they were on their way home, Winnie was quiet and Faith suspected she was still unwell. Risking being seen by Matt, Faith went home with her only leaving her at the gate when Paul came out to greet them.

  Walking so close to Matt’s workshop gave her a cold sensation between her shoulder blades, she felt vulnerable, imagining Matt’s gaze upon her. She went home by a devious route in case he was following and only when she was sure he wasn’t there did she hurry along to No 3 Railway Cottages.

  There was no sign of the nurses or Olive. Olive’s door was again firmly locked and Faith pushed the problem from her mind and made a cup of tea. The cooker was greasy, someone had been frying. She knew she had washed the cooker thoroughly after preparing breakfast. Should she remind Olive of her rules? If one was allowed to cook then the others ought to be too, she mused. She decided to do nothing, afraid to upset the pleasant atmosphere in her home.

  Ian and his mother called that evening and she told them what she had discovered.

  ‘I should at least question her and, coward that I am, I’m avoiding it,’ she admitted. ‘Should I ignore it for the short time she’ll be staying? Her sons will be out of the Navy at the end of the year, and if I tell her to leave she will have to face another upheaval.’

  ‘Just wait. An opportunity will come,’ Ian advised. ‘And in the mean time, I have another mystery for you.’ He led them into the garden and pointed to the roof of the sunroom-cum-breakfast room. In the fading light, two clear footprints showed on the wood at the edge of the glass roof. To the left of the glass roof was Olive’s room.

  ‘Good heavens! We might have been burgled! I haven’t noticed anything missing. In fact, there isn’t anything of value in the house, unless the nurses have lost something. D’you think I should call the police?’

  ‘Shush.’ Ian warned. He pulled himself up into the tree and holding on to a branch, stepped on to the roof. He crawled up and with his face to Mrs Monk’s window he looked inside. He almost fell with shock when another face peered out at him. The face gave a yell, then disappeared.

  ‘Her sons are in there!’ Ian shouted. ‘Go and stop them!’ He slithered down the sloping roof and jumped to the ground as Faith disappeared into the house.

  Faith ran inside just in time to grab one of them as they ran down the stairs.

  chapter seven

  It was a silent, unmoving tableau that remained frozen for a long time, or so it seemed to Faith when she thought about it later. Ian held an arm of both young men and they all just stood there, unable to decide what to do next. Disbelief showed on Faith’s and Ian’s faces, fear on those of the two young men. Then Olive Monk appeared at the top of the stairs and she moved, painfully slowly, down to join them.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Faith. We were in such difficulties you see. My husband died and we were in debt and had to leave our flat. I thought that a few months living here and paying such a small rent we’d have a chance to recover, get enough money to rent again.’

  Faith felt sympathy for the woman, but Ian said, ‘You were prepared to lie to Faith after she had befriended you? That isn’t the way to sort out your problems. Faith knew you cooked meals and ate them in your room, she chose to ignore that. She was kind and considerate and all the time you were hiding your sons, cheating on her.’

  The boys had remained silent but now one of them said, ‘We were doing our best to pay off our father’s debts. Saving on rent was making that happen faster. We’re very sorry.’

  Faith was tempted to allow them to stay. ‘Perhaps they could stay; the boys could use the front room as a bedroom, if—’

  ‘What were you doing running from a house in Kitchener Street late at night?’ Ian interrupted. ‘Exactly how were you working to pay off these supposed debts? Legal, is it?’ His voice became louder and louder as he asked, ‘Or burglary? Would the police know your names? Shall we ask them?’

  Without another word they left, the boys dragging a suitcase and an over-filled box, Olive carrying clothes in untidy bundles over her arms.

  Faith stood in the doorway of the back bedroom staring in disbelief at the mess. Mrs Monk had been allowing her two sons to live there and it showed in the overfilled rubbish bin in a corner and the pile of dirty bedding on the floor. She remembered when the woman had arrived to inspect the room, how she had considered it too small but had been persuaded by her son to take it after he had looked out and saw the convenient tree outside that would make access easy.

  With a sigh she began sorting out the chaos, gathering the rubbish into a box and piling the dirty bedding on top of it ready for the ashmen to take the following day. Stale food accounted for the unpleasant smell and she wondered why she hadn’t been aware of it before, while her unsuspected visitors were there.

  Two hours later she had finished scrubbing the linoleum and skirting boards. The windows were wide open, and outside two mats were drying, swinging gently on the clothes line. She had to decide whether to relet, or cope on the small wage she earned working for Mrs Palmer in the baker’s shop. She knew she needed the rent of the rooms to make life bearable. The nurses were leaving soon and they had agreed to make it known at the hospital that there were rooms to let. The nurses were perfect tenants. In case there were no nurses, she decided to advertise the vacant back room in the local shop windows, where notices were displayed for a few pence per week; she couldn’t be unlucky a second time.

  A neighbour called as she was pulling the now dry rugs from the line and Faith told her what had happened.

  ‘She seemed very nice, but I found her evasive, you know, cautious of giving away more than she meant to.’

  ‘I must be a fool to be so easily deceived.’

  ‘It’s not a bad thing to trust people. Life can be miserable if you’re looking for trouble with everyone you meet.’

  ‘I’ll have to look for new tenants now, the nurses are leaving soon.’

  ‘I know of a couple needing a room for a few weeks. It’s while their house is being repaired, or they’re moving house, I’m not sure. It will give you a chance to find someone more permanent.’

  Mr and Mrs Gretorex arrived later that day and took the small room. They were neatly dressed and brought very little luggage. They said very little apart from asking the usual questions and offered no explanation for their needing a room when they were obviously able to afford better. Stiff smiles were the only attempts at friendliness and Faith accepted that they were very quiet people who would be model tenants but not willing to become anything more. Having been told light-heartedly about the previous tenant, they formally told Faith they would keep their possessions to a minimum.

  The nurses came home after their late shift bringing a nervous young woman whom they introduced as Gwenllian Hughes.

  ‘Call me Gwennie,’ the young woman said, after apologizing for her late call. ‘I could move in the day these two move out, if you agree.’

  After a few questions during which Faith learned that Gwennie was also at the hospital, but as a cleaner, it was agreed she would move in. Faith went to bed that night still sad about Olive Monk but relieved that the financial situation was secure, for a while at least.

  The following morning she wrote to Winnie to tell her about the changes and invited her and the children down for another day at the seaside on the following Sunday. She also wrote to Ian and his mother to tell them about her new lodgers. Then she studied her list of things to d
o, to decide what her next project on the house would be.

  She had heard nothing from Matt since Olive had sent him away and began to hope he had given up trying to talk to her. She could say nothing except repeat her lie that the child had not been his. She could do nothing except listen while he ranted and raged about what she had done. He must have given up.

  Everything was beginning to settle. She had Ian – at least as a good friend, she had a job, and a house that earned her extra income. Life was promising good. Then the letter came.

  It was not news she was expecting. None of the things she dreaded most: further threats from Matt or Ian bidding her goodbye; it was from her landlord and he wanted her to vacate the house by the end of September.

  Her first impulse was to phone Ian. Being in business he had a telephone at home, but she had rarely used it. She was still hesitant about taking his friendship for granted, but this was an emergency.

  His mother answered the phone. ‘Faith, dear, how nice to hear from you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve had a shock and I wondered if I could talk to Ian?’

  ‘He isn’t here, but can I help?’

  ‘No one can, really. I just want an excuse to talk about it. I’ve been given notice to leave the house by the end of September and it was such a shock I had to tell someone. I really believed I was settled. I’ve done so much to the place and I thought I was being a model tenant.’

  ‘People are beginning to buy their homes, I suppose the temptation to sell it and raise some money was too much for him. I’ll tell Ian you called and if you give me the number of the phone at the end of the road, he’ll ring you. Shall we say eight o’clock?’ Long before eight o’clock Faith had decided there was nothing Ian could do apart from listen to her complaining.

  The nurses were moving out the following day and the new tenant, Gwennie Hughes was not on the telephone so there wasn’t much she could do to stop her moving in. Tonight when they got home she would tell the nurses and ask them to tell Gwennie. She would have preferred to explain to the young woman herself but the important thing was to try to stop her leaving her present place, although, she thought sadly, she was probably too late for that anyway. It seemed likely she would have to allow Gwennie to move in, even though the room was available for less than a month.

  Just before eight o’clock she was sipping a cup of tea before walking to the phone box, mulling over what she would do, when Ian arrived.

  ‘Mam told me about the notice to quit,’ he said, as he took another cup from the dresser and began pouring himself some tea. ‘Damned nerve of the man. He charges you rent and waits until you’ve made the house habitable and in good order, then tells you to leave. Nice little profit he’ll make out of you!’

  ‘I was just beginning to feel that my life was getting straight after – after all that had happened – then this. Lady luck certainly has it in for me.’

  ‘Have you thought of buying the place?’

  ‘Buy a house? How can I afford it, and how could I afford to run it?’

  ‘Didn’t you say you have some money left to you by Mrs Thomas?’

  ‘Not enough. With what I’d put aside I’ve less than one hundred and fifty pounds. If I were a man I could get a mortgage for the balance but as a woman, who works in a bakery shop and takes a few tenants, I’d be laughed out of the office.’

  ‘Could one of your friends help?’

  ‘How can I ask?’ She shook her head. ‘Whatever I do it will be without embarrassing people I care about. If I could somehow borrow the money, and find the confidence to buy this place, I’ll start off in serious debt. It isn’t possible, Ian.’

  ‘What about a bank loan?’

  ‘The bank? They’d laugh!’

  ‘But you will try?’ he coaxed.

  ‘All right, I’ll see the bank manager tomorrow.’

  ‘Great!’

  ‘The first thing is to tell my new tenants they might have to find somewhere else to live. Mrs Gretorex is calling in the morning to bring some of her things and I can tell her then. And if I’m not mistaken, here are the nurses now.’

  The door opened and the two nurses came in, laughing, chattering about their day. They always stopped for a cup of tea and a chat and Faith knew she would miss them. When her news was announced they both thought their friend Gwennie would still come.

  ‘Too late to stay where she is,’ one of them said.

  ‘Glad to get away from her landlord with his lecherous ways,’ the other agreed.

  ‘But it will only be until the end of the month,’ Faith warned. ‘The first of October and I’m out of here.’

  ‘Plenty of time for her to find somewhere else. Don’t worry, Faith. Things have a habit of working out for the best.’

  Not for me they don’t, Faith thought, but then, she reminded herself, I don’t deserve it. Tomorrow she would talk to her landlord and find out his intentions, then, it would do no harm to go and see the bank manager. She closed her eyes and sent up a thankful prayer for Mrs Thomas and her generous and unexpected gift.

  Gwennie was quite untroubled by Faith’s news about the unexpected move. ‘I’ll stay until you have to move out,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Plenty of time to find a place then. It’s always easier once the holiday season is over. Plenty of landladies looking to fill empty rooms then there’ll be.’ She brought very few things with her and settled into the routine of the house with ease.

  Gwennie worked early mornings and was gone from the house before Faith rose from bed. She made herself some breakfast as Faith had agreed but left the kitchen tidy, much to Faith’s relief. Mrs Gretorex had eaten breakfast with her and had seen her off to work like a mother, which amused Faith, and she left for the shop in a light-hearted mood. An appointment had been made to see the bank manager during her lunchtime and this threatened to be a more sobering affair.

  The shop was very busy and the morning passed without allowing her any time to worry about the important meeting. The bakery was behind the shop and the smell of the freshly baked bread made her very hungry. She had explained to Mrs Palmer about her appointment and fifteen minutes before the shop closed for lunch she was told to take something to eat and get ready. ‘It isn’t the sort of thing to do in a rush,’ Mrs Palmer said kindly.

  Faith’s first call was to her landlord, who brushed aside her remarks about her disappointment, then, when she asked about purchasing No 3, he looked thoughtful. He gave her a price, and said, ‘Go and see if you can arrange finance then come and see me again. Ten days should be enough.’ She thanked him and tried to do sums in her head to work out whether the idea was feasible. Then she went to the bank.

  There is something formidable about a large office in which a man sits behind a heavy desk and smiles a stiff, practised smile. Faith wanted to run away. How could she ask this man to lend her some money?

  Unfortunately she had not added regularly to her bank account, having used most of the incoming money to improve the house. Asked how she was going to pay back a loan if there was no surplus from her incomings, she nervously explained this, adding that the house was now clean and orderly. She gave a full account of her finances including the rent she could expect from the three rooms she had available. The extra room was because she had decided to continue to sleep downstairs, making her living room into a bedsit, to show a better prospective weekly income.

  ‘If this loan can be agreed, you will need a guarantor,’ he told her. ‘Is there someone who will cover the loss if you fail to find your agreed monthly payment?’

  Who could she ask? Life had improved for her immeasurably, but when it came to situations like this she was still on her own. ‘I need to think about that, and make sure there is full agreement before I give a name.’

  ‘Of course. Do that before you get back to me, say one week from today?’

  She almost ran from the office, her heart was racing with the thought that he had not dismissed her application, there was a chance, small, but s
hining like the evening star.

  Two days passed and she still had no answer to the bank manager’s question. To Ian she said nothing. How could she involve him in her difficulty? All she said in answer to his questions, was that things were moving.

  When Ian found an abandoned letter on the Thursday following her appointment at the bank he learned the truth. Hiding the letter, pretending he hadn’t see it, he said, ‘Faith, Mam and I have been talking and we realize you might need a guarantor for the loan. Please give my name. Knowing you, my cover will be quite safe. I trust you completely.’

  ‘Ian, that’s so kind, but I couldn’t.’

  ‘I doubt whether the loan will be agreed without such a signature, even with the house being such a good buy. I wish you’d agree; for one thing it will prevent further delays and delays could cause the owner to sell to someone else. You don’t want to risk losing it, do you?’

  On Sunday evening, when she faced the fact there was no one else to whom she could turn, his persuasions won and she agreed. She promised herself that she would do anything, anything at all, to prevent dropping behind in her payments for even a day.

  Still filled with trepidation she saw the owner, got in touch with a solicitor, then met the bank manager again and the sale was agreed. Three weeks later, on Monday the second of October, she was the surprised owner of No 3 Railway Cottages.

  She hadn’t seen much of her newest lodger. Gwennie sat with her and Mr and Mrs Gretorex at breakfast on her days off, when she didn’t have to leave so early, but apart from that Faith saw nothing of her. One morning, when Faith was leaving the shop at lunchtime she decided to take a snack and eat it in the park. As she found herself a seat in the shade of a tree Gwennie walked past. She stopped and they shared their lunch hour.

  ‘Split shifts today,’ Gwennie sighed. ‘Two of the cleaners are off sick and we have to cover the work between us.’