The Runaway (6 page)

‘Oh, you’re clever! Mind-reader as well as brilliant salesman!’

‘And I bet she doesn’t go home to a meal as good as this one!’

On her last morning at the hotel, Faith didn’t wait for breakfast but left by taxi before serving began. It was unlikely that Matt would look for her here but the fewer people she spoke to the better. He
would probably expect her to have travelled miles away and found work as a teacher, certainly not as a housekeeper companion, and in the same town, so she felt reasonably safe. But there was no point taking unnecessary risks. Her employer, Mrs Thomas, wasn’t expecting her until after lunch but Faith thought she wouldn’t mind her arriving a little earlier than planned. She still felt weak and didn’t fancy wandering around laden with her baggage for hours.

Mrs Rebecca Thomas was a small, slim person with a constant frown on her face. She suffered from arthritis and Faith guessed she was in considerable pain. She spoke abruptly and at first Faith found it irritating to be treated like an idiot, having to listen to her employer explain the way she wanted things done in minute detail. As days passed she became used to it and waited calmly for the lecture to end, after which she did what was required with very few complaints.

She gathered from Sophie, the woman who came in to clean twice each week, that Mrs Thomas had difficulty keeping the small staff she required.

‘Not used to it you see,’ Sophie explained in a whisper. ‘Not brought up to it, like. Now my other ladies they don’t have any trouble, they know what’s needed and once they sort out who does what they leave it to the staff to sort between them. Now Mrs Thomas, she’s unsure of herself if you ask me, so she overdoes the ordering about and people won’t stand for it, see.’

‘I’ll try to make allowances,’ Faith said solemnly. ‘You’re very understanding, Sophie.’

‘You have to be, in this job,’ Sophie said, ‘I threaten to leave
sometimes
, when she gets a bit much to cope with, and remind her she’s lucky to have me.’

‘I’m sure she knows that.’ Faith tried not to smile.

The work of running the home and keeping Mrs Thomas company between times was not arduous. She did some shopping, using only the nearby corner shops and became known to the shopkeepers as a quiet person unwilling to stay and chat and satisfy their curiosity. She joined the library, choosing books for her personal enjoyment as well as others which she read to Mrs Thomas.

Outwardly she was relaxed and content. She hid her grief well. Walking away from Matt and Carol, and Winnie, seemed to belong to a previous life or a half-remembered dream, except for the moment when she had signed away all rights to her child. The worst time was
last thing at night when she waited for sleep to claim her. That was when visions of a baby came to torment her. She saw a child who was sometimes upset and crying as she leaned over her little girl’s cot. The worst times were half-waking dreams when she saw Matt looking down at the baby, grief distorting his dark eyes. Those dreams brought guilt as well as tears.

Surely he wouldn’t have been allowed to keep the child? She knew she had been cruel by not registering the child in Matt’s name. She had lied, and had explained that she had been only a lodger there until she could find a place for herself and her child, that talk of marriage was no more than Matt’s optimistic hope. Her decision not to keep the child had made circumstances change and the child would now go to foster-parents until an adoption could be arranged.

She felt waves of guilt that cut into her heart like knives as she thought of her own experiences but hoped and believed that today things would be more carefully monitored and the little girl who was her daughter would be placed with a loving family. She had to believe that or she would lose her mind.

If only she weren’t so alone. She thought of her sister, building up an imaginary picture of her, smiling, words of sympathy issuing from a face almost identical to her own. Her life had been separated into stages, but the birth and her latest cowardly escape was definitely the worst. The time with Matt and all that had happened before, was over. This was a lull before what would happen next. Would the new stage be the one in which she found her sister, Joy?

If by some miracle we find each other, what would she think of me, abandoning my daughter after the miseries of my own childhood? Perhaps she would turn and walk away again. That thought, together with imaginary pictures of her baby, meant another sleepless night.

M
rs Thomas had help around the house for many of the routine duties and Faith found that she was expected mainly to make sure their work was satisfactory. Apart from this there were the evenings when she and Mrs Thomas listened to music or watched the television and the afternoons when she read to her for an hour.

Faith dealt with the shopping and chose the menus for the meals, which she often cooked when the woman employed for that pleasant task was unable to come in. Gradually, as the weeks passed, the cooking became one of her regular tasks as the cook became less and less reliable and eventually gave up altogether. Faith didn’t mind this but secretly hoped that she wouldn’t be given more work if the cleaners left!

The one potential problem was Mrs Thomas’s so far unseen son, Samuel. He phoned often and each time the call left her employer subdued and clearly upset. Faith dreaded meeting him. From the little Mrs Thomas had told her about her son, she gathered that Samuel did not approve of her caring for his mother, even though they hadn’t met. He wanted Mrs Thomas to move into a retirement home,
something
his mother refused to consider. ‘While I have you to look after me,’ she told Faith on one occasion, ‘I can continue to live in this house which has been my home for more than fifty years.’

There weren’t many callers and Faith spoke to few people. She was afraid to go out, apart from the necessary shopping trips, for fear of meeting someone who would tell Matt where to find her. She longed to talk to Winnie, but as Winnie lived close to Matt and his mother, that wasn’t possible.

As spring opened up the countryside with flowers and leaves began to clothe the trees she spent much of her spare time walking, staying
far away from the houses, through the fields to Dinas Powys, where she avoided looking at the house where she had lived out part of her sad childhood, or across the fields through Cadoxton to Coldbrook and Merthyr Dyfan.

Fickle spring gave way to summer and more and more people were out enjoying the strengthening sun. Faith’s arms ached to hold her child when she watched with painful regret as families piled on to the buses heading for the beach, loaded with buckets and spades and baskets covered with white cloths that obviously held picnic food. The regret was for the thought that she would never belong to one of such lively and excited groups.

The loss of her daughter had been necessary but it was a loss nevertheless and a continuing sadness. She’d had no choice. What might the little girl have inherited? Being brought up without the presence of Matt must reduce the chances of her inheriting his evil ways. She frequently wondered whether her decision had been the right one, but the thought of what the child might have inherited and which, if she’d been allowed to grow up in that house, might have displayed itself, soon reassured her that, agonizing as it was for her to live with, day after day, there had been no alternative but to walk away.

The beautiful sandy beach attracted huge crowds, even now, when holidays abroad were tempting more and more people away from the traditional vacations. She would have loved to wander along the promenade and watch others having fun, but too many people came to Whitmore Bay and the risk of being seen and having to face Matt again made that an impossible dream. So her lonely travels continued to take her through the quiet countryside.

Tempted once or twice, she went to the beach at the end of the day and watched tired families gathering their belongings and mothers coaxing the weary children towards the bus and railway stations. A child was crying, that grizzly cry of a tired child, and she longed to pick her up and carry her. She turned away and walked to the next bay which was already empty of its day’s visitors and looked as forlorn as she felt. She sat on a rock, arms hugging her knees, and stared as the tide crept in, obliterating every sign of the day’s
activities
.

The long walks were an attempt to tire herself and make sleep come more easily, but every night she relived the agonizing memories
of losing her child. She saw a baby in a cot, or a pram, often crying, although she never saw the face clearly. In her imagination the tiny child always lay with her back to her, the face impossible to imagine, and the distress was heartbreaking.

Vivienne Day was in the garden of her son’s house one day, pulling up a few weeds, when she saw Tessa approaching. She watched as the young woman walked past, then stood looking up at the house, windows shining, curtains blowing gently in a breeze, and at the newly painted front door and neat garden. Vivienne could see the pangs of regret on her face. She had heard rumours that Tessa and Nick were far from happy.

She didn’t speak, hoping the girl would walk away before seeing her. She dreaded her son giving their broken romance another try, Tessa could no longer be trusted, having left Ian once Vivienne would always be afraid the disaster would be repeated. Besides, even in this changing world ending a marriage wasn’t that simple. Better Ian found someone else.

‘Hello, Mrs Day,’ Tessa called, a smile masking her previous sad expression.

‘Oh, hello, Tessa. I didn’t see you there.’ She made a pretence of going in but Tessa called her back.

‘How are you? How is Ian?’

‘I’m fine and Ian is more than happy, thank you.’

‘The house looks lovely. I do regret what happened,’ Tessa said, stepping closer.

‘I’m sure you do.’ Vivienne was determined not to invite her in.

‘Nick isn’t as caring as Ian. He’s been seeing someone else,’ Tessa went on.

‘I’m sorry about that, Tessa, but we make our bed and have to lie on it.’

‘What a daft expression. If the bed was uncomfortable I’d get up and remake it!’

‘Not always possible, is it?’

‘I’m so bored with Nick’s parents and with Nick’s ego.’

‘You made your choice and …’ To her dismay a car turned the corner. Seeing her son, Vivienne said firmly. ‘Goodbye. I have to go, Ian will want some lunch.’ She stared until the girl turned and walked away.

‘What did she want?’ Ian asked as he took off his jacket.

‘Just nosing, seeing what you’ve done on the house. It seems Nick and she aren’t happy. I heard rumours about a barmaid,’ she said as she bustled about the kitchen.

‘Yes, I heard that too. Poor Tessa. She’s very unhappy.’ She could see he was affected by her distress. ‘I still feel something for her, you know.’

‘I know, dear, but stay away. You can never trust her again.’

‘We were together practically all our lives.’

‘What you’re feeling is sympathy for someone in trouble, that’s very different from love. No more than the sympathy you felt for the woman at the hotel.’

‘I wonder whether her problem was a broken heart, too?’

‘Yours was bruised, dear, but not broken.’

With summer in its full glory, the town was bursting at the seams with visitors and day-trippers. Gaining confidence, Faith decided to risk getting in touch with Winnie. Phoning was risky as Winnie’s husband, Paul, worked shifts in a local factory but she picked up the phone at a quarter past nine, when Winnie would be back from taking the three children to school, and was lucky first time.

‘Faith! There’s lovely to hear from you at last! Where are you? Near enough to meet, are you?’ Winnie shouted in delight at hearing Faith’s voice.

‘If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?’

‘Of course. I wouldn’t want to be the one to lead Matt to you.’

‘I have a day off on Friday as my employer is visiting a cousin for the day. Can you meet me in Cardiff?’

It was quickly arranged and Winnie was so excited she was afraid Paul would guess something had happened and wheedle it out of her. She and Paul didn’t have secrets but she would say nothing until after she’d spoken to Faith.

Their three children, Jack, Bill and Polly, all came home for lunch. Fortunately Paul would be there on the following Friday and it would be simple to leave a meal ready for them all. She planned the journey and rehearsed a conversation, filling her mind with lists of questions and hoping to be given answers to at least some of them.

She also talked among the other mothers at the school gate to find out what she could about Matt and his mother. Carol was constantly
tearful, complaining about Matt’s ‘wife’ and her inexplicable action. Winnie also tried, without any success, to learn something about Faith’s daughter. Even leaving the little girl as she had, Faith would surely ask if there was news of her. For the people at the school gate and in the local shops, that was the biggest question of all: why hadn’t she taken the child? If she was leaving Matt, how could she have walked away from her child?

Everyone had plenty to say but nothing was known, except that the child had been christened Dorothy. The comments were criticisms of Faith, to which Winnie listened without adding to the conjectures or speaking in her friend’s defence. One day the story would come out and until then it was better to say nothing. Specially as she knew so little herself.

They met in the popular café at Cardiff bus station and spent a pleasant few hours together, talking about their lives, exchanging confidences, Winnie cautiously avoiding anything that might remotely be considered prying. She was painfully curious about why Faith had abandoned her child but dared not ask.

Faith asked about the children and their schooling and avoided anything to do with her past. Accepting this, knowing she had to wait until Faith was ready to confide in her, Winnie told amusing stories about the children and about people Faith would remember from the weeks she had taught in the school.

They walked through Sophia Gardens, following the river, and Faith teased her about how slowly she walked.

‘I’ve become quite fit since I moved to Mrs Thomas’s,’ Faith told her. ‘I walk miles every week and spend a lot of time working in her garden.’

‘Paul deals with the garden but perhaps I ought to help if I’m going to keep up with you,’ Winnie said with a laugh.

When she was back preparing Mrs Thomas’s meal, Faith hoped that now they had met once and managed not to be confronted by someone who knew Matt, they could meet whenever she had a day free.

Faith didn’t meet Mrs Thomas’s son until August, and when he arrived on that Friday morning she was immediately glad he didn’t live nearby. He had called to take his mother to lunch and for a drive in the country. Faith helped her get ready. She herself intended to catch
the bus into Cardiff to meet Winnie, as Samuel had graciously agreed she might. Samuel Thomas was a stern-faced, rather ill-mannered man. He spoke to Faith slowly, articulating with care, as though she were an idiot. She guessed he was in his late forties and his attempts to look younger were ludicrous. He wore glasses over washed-out blue eyes in a pale face. His hair looked unnaturally and suspiciously black. His dark clothes were casual, unlike his speech. He glanced in the hall mirror as he waited for his mother to put on her coat and hat and Faith wondered what he believed he saw there: young and handsome? Suave and debonair? From his slight smile of approval, he clearly didn’t see what she recognized as an arrogant, middle-aged man who didn’t deserve a lovely mother like Mrs Thomas.

‘Make sure you lock up before you go off, won’t you, dear?’ Mrs Thomas said with a smile. After getting her settled into the car, Samuel came back and said:

‘Remember you are responsible, so make sure everything is secure.’ No please or thank you, so Faith responded with as much rudeness as she dared by not replying at all. She waved Mrs Thomas off, then closed the door. If he were around too often life wouldn’t be so pleasant.

On the train to Cardiff she began thinking about her future plans. Once she was sure Matt was no longer looking for her she might try to return to teaching. It was something she enjoyed and knew she did well. Her feeling for the underdog, her observant eye for any child being less than happy, was invaluable and something for which she could thank her foster-mother, she thought with sadness.

A man got in at Cogan. ‘Hello, aren’t you the young lady from the hotel?’ He put down his briefcase and offered his hand. ‘Ian. Ian Day. Faith, isn’t it?’

‘Hello! I thought you’d have a car, being a rep.’

‘You remembered,’ he said, holding her hand in both of his, and smiling delightedly.

She was pleased to see him. Thoughts of her foster-parents were taking her back to her lost child and his pleasant company was just in time to stop the melancholy clouding her mind.

‘The car is in disgrace,’ he told her, laughing. ‘Its clutch is slipping, or whatever clutches do. I have to use trains and buses until Monday. Going shopping?’

‘Meeting a friend for lunch.’

‘I’m catching the five o’clock train back, see you at the station?’ he suggested.

‘I have to leave earlier than that. I’m getting a train about four.’

‘Four. that’s what I meant to say.’ He laughed and said, ‘Meet you at the station about 3.45?’

‘I can’t promise,’ she said. She had intended to set off nearer three o’clock, but it was tempting. She didn’t have to be cautious with a stranger, and he did have the nicest smile.

Ian was smiling too. Going back to Barry at four o’clock was the wrong direction for him, but he found the thought of seeing her again irresistible.

Winnie was standing on the corner near the theatre where they had arranged to meet. She looked anxious, walking up and down and lifting herself up on to tiptoe looking for her. Faith waved and they ran to greet each other with a hug.

‘I’m so glad to see you again, Faith, and you’re looking marvellous. Sort of glowing.’

The pleasure of talking to Ian might be the reason for that, Faith thought, but she said, ‘I don’t work very hard. And you’re looking good yourself. Children and Paul all right?’ They chatted about
ordinary
things as they made their way to a café.

Once they were settled Winnie once more evaded asking the
questions
she wanted to ask and instead, said, ‘You say you don’t work very hard; what do you do, then?’