The Runaway (2 page)

‘In fact,’ Faith admitted to Mary with a laugh, ‘I’m hardly noticed, except to provide more food and drink!’

There was no escaping talk of Nick no matter how she tried to avoid it. She dismissed him with a laugh. ‘We were never really serious,’ she said airily. ‘I don’t think Nick is ready for a wife and family yet and despite all my wanderings I still haven’t found a place that I feel is home.’

‘Oh, I think they’ll marry,’ Mary said, revealing knowledge of the affair.

‘There’s romantic, him eloping with Tessa,’ someone said and the shock of hearing what she had suspected was a harsh pain. Would they marry? How could he make such plans and still see me? she wondered. Then she realized, she had been nothing more than a shield to keep their secret.

‘Where are you from?’ someone asked later. ‘Not from around here for sure. You don’t have the same accent as us.’

‘Difficult to answer.’ Faith replied thoughtfully. ‘I was born in London but I’ve lived in Wales practically all my life.’ She didn’t want to discuss her history any more than the romance of Nick and Tessa, so she stretched across to the small table and said brightly, ‘Who’s going to try my birthday cake?’ Hands went up and the moment passed.

People began to drift away until only Mary Gould was left. As she began to clear the dishes she looked at Faith, aware of the sadness behind the light-brown eyes. ‘You don’t have to be on your own, you know. If you ever feel lonely you can come to my place any time you want to. My George is out most evenings, at the pub, putting the world to rights with the help of his friends, so I’d always be glad of your company.’

News of the elopement of Tessa and Nick quickly spread and as four and not three people were involved it was referred to as the eternal square. Faith hid her regrets well and joined in the gossip as though she were not one of the four.

In London Tessa and Nick found a small flat and Tessa quickly
realized
that the excitement and romance of being runaway lovers, defying convention, turning their backs on everything to be together, quickly faded amid the realities of finding work, paying rent and, for the most part, being broke. The hastily arranged wedding she had dreamed of was not part of Nick’s plan. Despite her pleading, cajoling and displays of anger, it didn’t happen. She sulked, blamed him for ruining her life. He told her to go back home.

‘Too late,’ she told him. ‘I’ve written to my parents and yours telling them we’re getting married next week.’

‘You did what?’

‘You can hardly expect me to walk away from Ian and my family for anything less than marriage.’

After hours of arguing, Nick eventually agreed and a register office ceremony was discussed. With diminished funds Tessa managed to find a dress and some shoes and a hat and, after separating for one night, made her way to the register office at the appointed time. After waiting for over an hour she went back to their flat where Nick was waiting for her.

‘Sorry, but I don’t think the time is right for us to marry,’ he said as she began to shout and cry and hit him. He held her close. ‘We’re together and that’s all that matters. When we have a decent place and decent jobs, then we’ll have a proper wedding, not a cheap affair like today would have been. I want us to have everything perfect for the most important moment of our lives.’

To Faith’s surprise, a few weeks later Nick reappeared. He moved back into his parents’ house and a very subdued Tessa was with him. Faith had to face the gossips again. She dealt with it by using humour and distorting the truth. It was a joke, she knew all about it but had promised not to tell anyone. ‘Very romantic,’ she said brightly. ‘Nick and Tessa have been seeing each other for weeks but no one knew except me. I was acting as their cover, their alibi when they needed one. It’s been very exciting.’ As she spoke she knew it
was foolish to invent such a story, it was bound to fall about her ears. And it did.

The rumours began. All was not well with the couple. To Faith’s dismay, Nick admitted he was unhappy and told everyone how he regretted leaving Faith so cruelly, that Tessa was too demanding and selfish.

One evening Faith opened the door to a very persuasive Nick who begged her to go back to him. ‘I’ve already admitted I made a mistake leaving you for Tessa,’ he said. ‘I’m so ashamed at the way I treated you.’

Faith saw her lies coming back, mouthed maliciously by unkind acquaintances. Why hadn’t she told the truth? She’d have been laughed at by some but others would have sympathized. Now she would be a joke. It wasn’t something she could laugh off, not this time.

‘No. Nick,’ she said as he waited, looking suitably chastened. ‘You’ve humiliated me for the last time.’

‘But I’ve told my parents it’s you I want. All right, I made a mistake, but we can’t let it ruin our lives. Please Faith. Marry me, announce our engagement. That will get Tessa off my back if nothing else will.’

‘Isn’t she your wife? How do you plan to get out of that one, Nick?’

Allowing Tessa the face-saving lie he said, ‘It was a mistake, we can get it annulled, or a divorce. We could tell everyone I was in the wrong and want to put it right. Tell everyone we’re engaged. Please, Faith.’

‘I see. You want me to announce our engagement, just until Tessa goes back to wherever she came from? Then what?’

‘We could marry once I’m free,’ he said, as though the thought had just occurred. ‘Best to leave it a while and see how well we get on, though. Perhaps in a year or so? Next year perhaps?’

‘No, Nick. Not next year or any year.’ He was still blustering as she closed the door.

At school the following morning she was approached by several of her so-called friends. They made no effort to hide their amusement at the latest story. Only Mary was sympathetic. Older and wiser, she was aware of the pain Faith was suffering. ‘Come on,’ she coaxed. ‘It will soon be forgotten. A bit of gossip like this is irresistible, if it had
been someone else you’d have enjoyed it yourself, be fair. Give it a week and nothing more will be said.’

At the end of that terrible day Faith walked home by way of the back lanes to avoid seeing anyone else who wanted a laugh at her expense. Unfortunately some of the older pupils had gleaned the details too and their derogatory comments as they followed her home, were just loud enough to be heard.

She reached home, dropped her bag and briefcase, then went out. Thank goodness the half-term during which she was ‘temping’ at the school was almost over. How right she had been to avoid taking a permanent position. It was time to move on once more. She tried to count her previous addresses and gave up after nine. The rest were guesses.

Try as she might she knew she would never be happy here now Nick had made a laughing stock of her. Mary was right, it would die down, but the memory would be there and the occasional revival as newcomers were told was more than she could bear. She went to see her landlord and the following week, with her stint as temporary teacher in the infants class finished, she was on the train with a ticket in her purse for Barry, the seaside town where she had once spent a happy holiday: her only childhood holiday.

Her memories of that week were wonderful. Aged seven, oblivious to the war restrictions in force, she had been so excited as each day had dawned. Blue skies, friendly people, laughter and fun. Perhaps Barry Island with its golden beach and pleasure park, where every day was a holiday, was where she was meant to be.

She sat on the busy train, carrying her few possessions, and misery descended once more as she visualized many more years of this, moving on when things didn’t work out as she hoped, new friends, a new school, then disappointment and off again.

She seemed unable to become a part of a group. Friends, all with large lively families had simply made her aware of her background and reminded her that she had always been alone. It had become automatic to accept loneliness, to being outside a group; an observer rather than a participant. That was how it would always be.

It was raining heavily as she left the railway station and she looked up at the relentless sky, the day as gloomy as her mood. This will probably be another broken dream, she thought with a sigh. Holidays aren’t real, the memories wouldn’t be the same as reality. The sun
wouldn’t always shine, the food wouldn’t taste as delicious. The people wouldn’t be as welcoming and friendly. She had been a child then. Now she was twenty-two and there wasn’t a place to call home or a group of people to whom she truly belonged.

The happiness she remembered here in Barry was because it had been the first time she had been on holiday, the one time her
foster-parents
had relented and allowed her to go with them for their week’s holiday instead of leaving her with carers. She had tried so hard to be good. Not asking for treats even when their daughter, Jane, was given them. She folded her clothes and went to bed when she was told, long before Jane, but they never took her again.

She knocked on the first house that displayed a ‘room for rent’ sign and without even asking to see it, she took it. At least she would have a base, somewhere to sit and consider her future.

The downstairs room was small and rather dark. But it overlooked the garden where there were overgrown trees and shrubs and with long grass where once there had been a lawn. Perfect for feeding and enjoying garden birds. She unpacked her miserably few possessions and examined the double bed. It was clean and, after testing, proved to be firm and comfortable. It would do until she decided what her next step would be. That seemed to be the story of her life. Moving from place to place looking for … she didn’t know what. She just hoped that one day she would find it, that perfect place that would for ever be her home.

Her landlady was friendly and promised a good breakfast each morning. Faith would eat out during the day and Mrs Porter agreed to provide a sandwich and a drink for supper. She seemed to have been fortunate in her choice, although she hadn’t actually made a choice. As so often in the past, she had taken the first available place and crossed her fingers for luck.

Ian Day was also moving. With Tessa married and never coming back he and his mother were leaving the rented house in which they had lived for many years, and were moving to the house he had planned to share with Tessa. He hoped that once the pain of his rejection had eased he would be happy there.

Vivienne Day watched her son and wondered if they were doing the right thing. Ghosts would be moving in with them, ghosts of disappointment and hurt. Would her son be able to forget and make
this a happy place in which to live? She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer.

The house was almost finished. With Tessa an unenthusiastic helper, he had decorated all of the rooms himself and had fitted a smart cream-and-red kitchen. There was a small fridge in one corner and a cooker had been installed a few days earlier. Above the kitchen was a bathroom. He had worked long hours, often late into the night, to get the place ready for them to return to after their honeymoon in Cornwall. Everything he could see had been chosen to please Tessa. Living here was going to be hard, but the alternative was to sell it and let someone else move in.

‘Half a dream is better than none,’ he told his mother with a tight grimace that was an attempt at a smile. ‘It’s a nice house and I want us to be happy here.’

‘Perhaps you and Tessa might …’ Ian shook his head in reply and she said nothing more. After all, the girl was married and that had to be an end to any hope of a reconciliation.

Faith settled into her new home with ease. Mrs Porter relaxed the rules as she got to know her new lodger and they sometimes went to the pictures together and on mild winter days, they went for walks, coming home to enjoy a warming cup of tea in the cosy kitchen. With Faith’s encouragement they began to tame the neglected garden, putting down food to encourage the birds.

There was a vacancy in the local school. A temporary one again, just for a few weeks while the regular teacher was recovering from an illness. Temporary suited her. She was still unsure whether she would stay. A month later, still working at the school with a hint of a
permanent
position, she learned it was Mrs Porter’s birthday. Having gradually persuaded the lady to clear some of the tangle in the garden, she decided to buy a statue, a birdbath and a feeder, so they might both enjoy their feathered visitors.

Barry out of season, with many of the seaside shops closed and wind howling along the promenade on her few forays to the sandy bay was not what her memory had retained. Yet there was something very pleasant about joining the locals out with their dogs, stopping for a chat, complaining about the weather and looking forward to spring and summer. She was beginning to feel like a resident. Perhaps this time she might stay. She made enquiries about a place where she
might buy the gifts she planned. Surely not all the shops were closed for the winter? The town had a busy life of its own, which was enhanced by summer visitors, but life went on when winter ruled and visitors stayed away.

She was told about Matt Hewitt who specialized in garden
ornaments
in stone, cement and wood. She called at his yard the following day to make enquiries. The workshop and yard was in an
out-of-the-way
place backing on to fields. She asked twice before she found it. Entering the yard, with its assorted statues and garden furniture, she wandered around the place looking for something that would please her landlady. There was plenty of choice and her gaze settled on a small cherub.

‘Can I help?’ a voice called and Matt Hewitt walked out from the small office. He was smiling and she could not resist smiling back. He was an attractive man; his hair and eyes were dark and he looked strong enough to lift a horse. His smile widened and brightened his penetrating eyes when he approached, warming her in a most
unexpected
way.

When she had explained what she wanted he led her into the shed, where he displayed his better pieces and began to tell her about
projects
on which he was presently engaged.