The Runaway (21 page)

‘I’m looking for someone called Pryor. Anyone here with that name, is there?’

The woman approached more rapidly, urging her towards the door. ‘Sorry, madam, the name is Green. There’s no one of that name here.’ That Welsh accent again, and, unbelievably, the same coat! ‘May I suggest you ask at the library? Or the post office?’

Refusing to be hustled out, Olive moved aside then slowly walked around the expensive displays, admiring but without envy. ‘This stuff is very fancy, isn’t it?’ she said, again loudly.

An older woman came out from the office. She walked moving her hip painfully and using a walking-stick. She wore a deaf aid in one ear.

‘Hello,’ Olive said cheerfully. ‘D’you know anyone called Pryor?’ Raising her voice she said again, ‘Faith Pryor?’

‘Please don’t worry my mother! As you can see, she’s far from well.’

Olive’s sharp eyes were staring at the newcomer, whose face was frozen with shock. Then she turned to the younger one. ‘You wouldn’t be Joy, by any chance, would you? Joy Pryor?’

‘It’s all right, Mother, this lady is just leaving.’ Refusing to let her stay a moment longer, she pushed Olive out of the shop and locked the door. She went to her mother and with an arm around her led her back to the office. ‘It’s all right, Mother. She’s a madwoman. I had to tell her to leave. You never know what they’ll do next.’

‘I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Nothing to do with Faith, was it?’

‘I’m sorry, Mother, but she was talking a lot of nonsense. There’s no hope of finding Faith after all this time, we both know that. Now, shall I get you a cup of tea and we can go over the illustrations for the new range of picnic ware. It certainly looks good. I think the white with the green and yellow trim, what do you think?’ Gradually she coaxed her mother out of her distress and involved her in
business
talk.

It was more than a week later when Olive called to see Faith and when she did she was unsure what to tell her. Raising her hopes on little more than a suspicion would be unkind, but the chance of her finding her family was too important not to give her the information, vague as it might be. Eventually she decided to tell her exactly what had happened and the little that had been said.

‘But if this woman is my sister, then my mother is … But she can’t be alive. She’d have found me. What makes you think the woman is my sister? Do you think she looks like me? And the mother, is there any family resemblance?’

Regretfully, Olive shook her head. ‘They’re hiding something, though, I’m sure of that. The young one anyway: I had her really rattled. The older woman seemed ill and the bossy daughter was
overprotective
. Oh, I don’t know, I just have a feeling that they do know the
name. Go up why don’t you? Dress a bit smart and walk in as though you’re likely to buy. That way you might get a look at the mother.’

‘I was one year old when I saw her last, what good will it do for me to see her? I can hardly expect to recognize her, can I? Besides, I’ve been there before, and I’ll be shown the door immediately.’

‘Go in there and make a fuss. Don’t whisper, shout a bit. That’s what I did and it brought the mother out of the office. Get that far and you’re likely to learn something, even if it isn’t what you want to hear.’

Faith wanted to grab a few things and go to London at once but
practicalities
calmed her. She had a job and she couldn’t leave without making arrangements with Mrs Palmer. If she did what Olive suggested and dressed smartly, to look as little as possible as she had on her previous visit, she would need some money and she didn’t have much savings.

Mrs Gretorex had just bought a suit for a wedding and she offered to lend it to her. It was blue silk in an extravagant full-skirted design and fitted her perfectly. After buying a cheeky little hat and some high-heeled shoes with matching handbag that cost a frightening amount, she felt capable of walking into the place as a prospective customer. With luck she might not be recognized immediately. Having time to look around might give her the confidence to do as Olive had suggested and make a very loud fuss.

She discussed it with Ian, who seemed amused by the escapade, and also with Vivienne, who treated her to some expensive stockings and lent her a beautiful rhinestone necklace to complete the outfit. Taking Mrs Palmer into her confidence she asked for a few days to go to London and set her mind at rest. ‘I honestly don’t think the people can be connected with me. If they were they wouldn’t have ushered Olive away, they’d have wanted to find out more. Their longing to find me must be as strong as mine.’

‘So you want to go so you can put it out of your mind, not with any hope of a happy outcome?’ Mrs Palmer asked.

‘I could be back the same day. I’ll work in the bakery to make up the hours if you wish.’

‘No need for that. Go on Tuesday, we aren’t so busy as Monday. Get the truth, and if you do meet up with members of your family. I’ll expect an invitation to the celebration party.’

Faith hugged her. ‘Thank you. You’re so kind.’ Laughingly, she told her employer about the eclectic outfit she would wear. To which Mrs Palmer responded by offering her the loan of an umbrella!

The train journey to London seemed endless. She went into a hotel for coffee and to freshen up before making her way to Beautiful Homes again. Her footsteps slowed as she neared the imposing façade and she had a strong desire to forget the whole thing and go back to Paddington and the train back to South Wales. Instead she pulled her shoulders back and down, held her head high, arranged what she hoped was a haughty expression on her face and walked through the door.

‘How may I help you, madam?’ the assistant asked politely.

‘I wish to see the owner,’ Faith said, but her voice wasn’t loud and the assistant looked doubtful. More loudly this time, remembering Olive’s advice. Faith threw everything into one big effort and, very loudly, demanded to talk to Joy.

Wearing a startled expression, white-faced under the carefully applied make-up, the woman she had spoken to on her previous visit stepped out of the office. Behind her was an older woman, who Faith presumed was the woman’s mother.

‘You are Joy Pryor,’ Faith said. Not a question but a statement. The older woman pushed forward and stared. ‘I’m Faith. I believe we are sisters,’ Faith went on, still in a very loud voice.

‘Go and take your break now, Miss Taylor,’ the young woman instructed sharply and glancing at her watch the assistant walked through the office and disappeared.

‘What nonsense is it this time?’ she asked, having recognized her visitor. ‘There is no one here called Joy. I don’t know what your idea is but I won’t have my mother upset.’

Disappointment and disbelief stunned Faith. ‘You must be Joy,’ she said stupidly.

‘Please leave at once.’ As the young woman tried to guide her towards the door, Faith pushed her aside and in one final attempt stepped toward the older woman. ‘My name is Pryor, Faith Mary Pryor. I was born in 1938.’ She glared at the woman, who stared back wordlessly, then collapsed. Faith caught her before she fell to the floor.

Together, Faith and the woman she still believed must be her sister,
helped the woman into the office. When the recovering woman spoke it was to Faith.

‘I searched everywhere for my daughter. She was evacuated, you see, and after we were bombed I was ill for a very long time.’

‘Don’t say anything more,’ her daughter warned. ‘If she is who she says, she’ll have a lot of questions to answer before we believe her.’

Faith was conscious of utter weariness. It was as though she had run for miles and had used up all her strength. ‘Could I have a cup of tea, d’you think?’ she asked. The daughter called through to someone beyond the office and asked for a tray of tea for three people.

A customer entered. Calmly, the daughter went to attend to her. When the girl brought the tea she handed the customer over to the young assistant, saying she would be available if there were any queries. Then she came back in and glared at Faith.

‘What makes you believe you’re my sister?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve come here twice and upset my mother, so come on. Let’s have your story, shall we?’

Determined not to be made to look small, remembering Olive’s advice to speak loudly, she told them briefly about her childhood. About the various homes she’d had, a little about the misery of having no one to care about her, although she made light of the actual deprivation of some of her lonely years. ‘I was given no information about my family, only that I had a sister Joy and that my family were from London,’ she said in conclusion. ‘You are Joy, you must be.’

The young woman shook her head. ‘My name isn’t Joy, it’s Verity. Verity Green.’

‘Then why all this? Why did you react so vehemently when I asked about Joy Pryor?’

The older woman struggled up to reach for a cup of tea. She stared at Faith for a long time, then smiled. ‘I searched for you. I tried
everywhere
, travelled miles, followed the slightest clue, but no one knew where you’d gone. I later learned that you were registered – for a while at least – in the name of the people who fostered you and that meant the trail was lost,’ She named a couple of the families who had cared for Faith but knew nothing about the children’s homes or the later names and addresses.

Faith reached out and touched the woman’s hand. ‘I have searched for you, but everywhere I tried ended with disappointment. Why are you called Green? Did you remarry? Do I have a stepfather?’

‘Not so fast,’ Verity said sharply. ‘We have no proof you are anything to do with us.’

‘Yes. Your father was killed just days after you and Joy were sent away.’

‘I was told that – when I was much older, of course. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s all right. I remarried but Roger died a year ago.’

‘Stop this, you’re upsetting my mother.’

‘It’s all right, Verity dear.’

‘I only know I have a sister, Joy. I can’t believe I’ll be meeting her after all the years of waiting and hoping. I didn’t know about Verity.’

‘It does seem as though a miracle has happened,’ the older woman said, ‘and we’ve found each other after all these years.’

‘Don’t be taken in, Mother,’ the daughter warned. ‘This might be a dishonest ploy to get a share of the business.’

Faith was shocked. Of all the imagined greetings she had imagined, to be accused of dishonesty was not one of them. She stood and pulled her jacket around her. ‘I’ll leave you to think about that,’ she said sharply. ‘You can make enquiries about me and although there are some things I’ve done which I regret, you won’t find anything to uphold such a suspicion!’ Her hands were trembling as she fished in her handbag and brought out a piece of paper, which she handed to the woman who might be her mother. ‘Here is my address and the name of the shop where I work. Incidentally I’m a qualified teacher but at present I sell bread and cakes in a local shop.’

When Verity tried to take the paper Faith snatched it away. ‘No! While we’re considering dishonesty, let’s make sure this gets to the right person this time, shall we?’ She put it into the older woman’s hand, holding it in both of her own, staring into the woman’s eyes, searching for some recognition.

On the journey home she was glad to have a carriage to herself. Tears were near the surface as she went through all that had happened. Who was Verity? How did she fit into the story? A stepdaughter? She wasn’t sure of very much but she did know her sister was called Joy. So if the woman was her mother, where was Joy?

If the family called Green owned the business she could
understand
a little suspicion on the part of Verity, but could the business be why the younger woman had been so adamant that the story was untrue? Did she really think I’ve made up this involved story to be
able to claim a share in their business? she asked herself. All I want is to know I belong somewhere, that I’m a part of a family. I don’t plan to walk away from all my friends and integrate into a group of strangers. Running away is the past. Staying with people who are important to me, that’s the present and future.

She went first to talk to Winnie. ‘I’ll have to go to London again. Until we’ve discussed everything that’s happened neither of us can be sure, but, Winnie, I do feel sure. I really believe I’ve found my mother and maybe a sister; or even two. I’ll have to take a few days off and spend a weekend visiting them.’

‘Perhaps I can take your place in the baker’s shop while you go. It’s really important for you to sort this out, I have worked in shops before and if Mrs Palmer agrees. I could do a few days to see whether I suit. I’d be glad to get out of the house for a few hours and this would be a start.’

‘Are you sure you’re well enough?’

‘I’m feeling fine.’

Mrs Gretorex and her husband were out when she got in, and it was Kitty and Gareth who were the next to listen to her story. Repeating it for Mrs Gretorex and yet again to a very excited Olive made her less confident. Then at the shop the next day Mrs Palmer was curious and asked a lot of questions. When the story was told, she said it sounded hopeful. ‘Who is Verity?’ she asked.

‘I didn’t quite understand. She’s either a stepsister, whose father was Roger Green, or a child born soon after I was evacuated.’

‘I can understand your sister’s suspicion, mind. It sounds like a successful business and if you’re the lost daughter you’d probably be entitled to a share of it. Perhaps, though, she’s anxious because your mother has been disappointed more than once and even after so long, another disappointment would be distressing. Your sister – if that’s who she is – is not afraid of losing part of the business but is protecting her.’

‘I was so shocked. I expected her to be as hopeful as I’d have been if she’d approached me, not treat me like a villain.’

‘Write to her, give any information you can remember, and your mother – if that’s who she is – will be able to see if it fits with anything she’s learned.’

‘Thank you for letting me go. I’m very grateful, Mrs Palmer.’