The Broken Man (Special Edition)

by Josephine Cox

  Maureen could feel Alice trembling in her arms. She could not believe how Adam was desperately trying to justify what he’d done. ‘Adam, I don’t know what to say, except that I’m shocked at what you did. I really am sorry that it’s turned out like this … for Alice’s sake mainly. But she could be right. Maybe you did leave the children’s home too soon.’

  She looked at him, and what she saw was a boy not much younger than she was herself; a boy who had seemed the perfect son for Liz and Jim; a boy who had been much loved by those good people. And, seeing the look on his face now, she saw a goodness there, and for one split second she was actually made to wonder if Alice was lying.

  But then she recalled the evidence of her own eyes, and she quickly dismissed that fleeting instinct. The truth was, Adam had hurt Alice. That was what she had witnessed, and Alice had been terrified. She was the one who got hurt. She was the one in distress. She was the one who carried the bruises.

  Moreover, from what she had learned through various sources, Maureen reminded herself that Adam had come from a violent background, while Alice’s family were decent, God-fearing people, whose only mistake was making a wrong judgement.

  ‘The truth is, Adam, you hurt a terrified nine-year-old child. She was screaming for you to let her go, and you wouldn’t. I have to believe what she’s told me, and what I saw with my own eyes.’

  She looked at him, at his soulful expression, and the way he kept glancing at Alice as though warning her. It only confirmed her belief that he was a bully and a liar.

  Maureen held on tight to the girl. ‘I’m sorry, Adam, but from the little I know, I believe you must take after your father.’

  ‘I’m nothing like him !’ Her cutting words ignited a fury in him. ‘Don’t you ever say that!’ He took a step forward, his anger focused on Alice. ‘She’s the warped one, not me! She never wanted me here. That’s why she’s done this … to make me look bad. To get rid of me!’

  When Alice clung harder to her, Maureen slowly backed away from Adam. ‘I’m calling the pub to speak to Liz and Jim,’ she said coldly. ‘You can explain yourself to them!’

  ‘Maureen, I’m not lying,’ Adam pleaded with her. ‘Please … you have to believe me. If one of us is lying, it’s her! I never went near the dolls! And I did not deliberately hurt her. She was fighting me because she didn’t want me to bring her down to tell you the truth.’

  Maureen was already halfway down the stairs, with Alice clutching onto her. ‘Stay away, Adam!’ she warned him. ‘After what I’ve seen, I don’t blame Alice for wanting you away from here!’

  When they were out of sight, Adam stood at the top of the stairs for what seemed to him a long time, though in fact it was only a matter of minutes.

  Realising that he might be sent away, he was frantic. Liz and Jim were bound to believe Alice over him, and why shouldn’t they? Alice was their flesh and blood, after all. Maybe Maureen was right; maybe he did take after his father. Maybe he really was a monster in the making.

  He could hear Maureen on the phone. ‘No, she’s OK now. I’ve got her down here with me and Harriet. No, he’s still upstairs. I don’t know … but I’ll keep an eye on things until you get here.’

  On hearing that conversation, Adam could see no alternative.

  He went into his room and collected his hessian bag from inside the wardrobe. He filled it with the basics, together with a complete change of clothes and a spare pair of boots.

  Next, he took out all his savings, which he had in a jar under the bed. After transferring all the money to one of his clean socks, he stuffed the sock into the deepest crevice of his travel bag.

  The money was not a vast amount – well-earned from his paper round, and other odd jobs – but it had filled the jar, and now it would help him get by until he decided what to do.

  For now though, he must be quick. He needed to be out of here before Liz and Jim got back.

  Quickly, he checked in his mind that he had enough for his immediate needs.

  I’ll need to get a job, he decided as he hurried about his business. He’d lie about his age. No one would guess he was not yet fourteen. Everyone always said he was tall for his age.

  He now collected the most important item of all: his mother’s box, which he withdrew from under the wardrobe and carefully placed in the bottom of the bag. He had an idea for keeping it safe. Taking a pen and paper from the chest of drawers, he pushed them into his pocket.

  Shortly after that, he crept softly down the stairs, and out of the house at the back. He had no idea where he might end up, or if the authorities would catch up with him and put him in care again. He desperately hoped not. He had no intention of going back to the children’s home. He longed for the day when he would be out of their jurisdiction; when he would be free to do as he pleased. But that was many long months away yet.

  Following Maureen’s frantic phone call, Liz and Jim left the pub to hurry home.

  Jim broke the silence. ‘I still can’t believe it!’

  ‘It’s not like Adam,’ Liz agreed, quickening her footsteps.

  ‘Liz, think back. Did Maureen actually say that Adam had hurt Alice … that she was bruised and upset?’

  ‘Well, yes, as far as I could understand her.’

  ‘But why would he want to hurt her? What’s happened? He’s never done anything like that before. Jeez! When I get my hands on him, I’ll make him answer for this.’

  Seeing how he was getting worked up, Liz tried to calm him. ‘I can’t help but feel Maureen might have got the wrong end of the stick,’ she said, breathlessly, hurrying along beside him.

  ‘No. She’s a sensible girl. All the same, I’m damned if I can understand it, because Adam’s never shown any sign of violence before. What’s going on, Liz? Is it maybe something we’ve done wrong?’

  ‘We’ve done nothing wrong, Jim. We’ve given him a good home and we’ve looked after him like our own. I don’t know what’s happened exactly, but I do know one thing for certain: if he has lashed out at Alice, he can go back where he came from; and the sooner the better.’

  Yet, even though she was concerned, Liz was convincing herself that Adam would not deliberately hurt Alice.

  Jim quickened his space until he was almost running. ‘I’m sorry, Liz, but it’s beginning to look like we’ve made a big mistake.’ He couldn’t get home quick enough. ‘Come on, Liz. Hurry up!’

  Hobbling along in high heels, Liz urged him on. ‘You go ahead, Jim. I’ll be right behind.’

  Just then, as they passed the bottom of the street, Liz caught sight of Adam out the corner of her eye. ‘Jim, it’s Adam … over there, look!’

  Jim caught sight of him. ‘It looks like he’s making a run for it. So there’s your answer! Why would he run off like that if he hadn’t done anything wrong? You get home and check on Alice. I’m going after the bugger!’

  By this time, unaware that they’d seen him, Adam was away like the wind. As he neared the canal, he realised he was being pursued.

  On recognising Jim, he was tempted to stop and explain that Alice had set him up, that he had not deliberately hurt her. But then Jim began shouting, ‘Come back, you devil! Face up to what you’ve done!’

  Jim was relentless. As fast as Adam ran, Jim was right behind. ‘If you’re innocent, come back now. Or maybe you’re just a coward, like your father!’

  The idea that he was being seen in the same light as his father only fired Adam to keep going, to get away from here, and never come back.

  Breathless and stumbling, Jim kept after him, over the fields and onwards, towards the canal. Intermittently calling Adam, he had to stop a couple of times to draw breath, but though the terrain slowed him down, he soon renewed his pace, determined to make Adam face up to what he’d done.

  When Adam scampered over the stone wall alongside the water, Jim did the same, though being less fit and lithe than the boy, he paid the price.

  As he swung himself over the wall, he caught his foot in a
deep crevice between the boulders. Propelled forward out of control, he tumbled headlong down the rough, slippery bank until there was nowhere to go but into the murky waters below. He tried desperately to keep himself from going under, but the harder he struggled, the quicker the waters seemed to cover his head and draw him down.

  Being some distance ahead, Adam had no idea that Jim was in trouble, though he wondered why he’d given up the chase.

  Jim had been yelling for him every few minutes but now there was only an eerie silence. Adam was puzzled, but somewhat relieved.

  Stopping to catch his breath, he smiled to himself. Jim wasn’t as fit as he thought. But something felt wrong. It wasn’t like Jim to give up.

  In the short time he’d been with the family, Adam had grown close to Jim. He knew his ways and, knowing them, he now grew uneasy. Jim’s family were everything to him. If Jim thought he’d hurt Alice, he would never give up. So, Adam thought, Jim had either found a different route and he was planning to waylay him at the other end or, for whatever reason, he had decided to let Adam go. But that idea didn’t feel right to Adam.

  Now convinced that Jim was in trouble, he stuffed his travel bag between the knotted roots of an ancient tree, then he ran as fast as his legs would take him. He carefully retraced every step and kept his eyes peeled at every turn.

  When he got to the canal, he saw that the boulders had been disturbed, and the earth was stripped in a jagged line from the boulders to the water. He suspected Jim might have slipped.

  ‘Jim, where are you? It’s Adam. Answer me!’ he shouted.

  On hearing a weakened cry from somewhere beneath the canal bridge, he swiftly ripped off his jacket and shoes, and eased himself into the water. Straightaway he caught sight of Jim. Visibly shivering, and badly bleeding from the head, he was desperately clinging to an overhanging branch, which was too thin to hold his weight so he might climb out, but it was sturdy enough to help him keep his head above water.

  ‘Hold on … don’t let go, I’m here.’ Adam swam to him. ‘I’ll get you out, but you’ll have to trust me. All right?’

  Jim nodded. He was never more relieved than when he saw Adam approaching.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get you out, Jim,’ Adam continued to reassure him, though he soon realised it would not be easy. It was obvious that if he were to go for help, Jim would not have the strength to hold on. ‘There’s no time to go for help, but you’ll be all right … I promise. I’ll get you out.’

  Going under the water, Adam discovered an even more desperate situation than he’d feared. Both of Jim’s legs were badly tangled in a mass of thick, binding weeds. Also, judging by the gaping wound and the peculiar angle of a jutting bone, his left knee appeared to have been broken in the fall.

  Coming up for air, Adam was concerned to see Jim drifting in and out of consciousness. ‘Stay awake, Jim. You have to stay awake!’ he yelled. As gently as he could he explained that the weeds were tangled round both his legs, and that his knee appeared to be broken.

  He saw the despair in Jim’s eyes. ‘I will get you out,’ he promised again, ‘but you have to help me. It’s going to hurt, but I need to free your legs. You must try to stay awake!’

  Growing weaker, Jim was concerned for Adam. ‘Leave me,’ he said. ‘Go for help!’

  Grabbing the collar of his jacket, Adam yelled back, ‘There’s no time! I won’t leave you here to die, like a drowned rat!’

  Cold and weary, Jim could hardly keep his eyes open.

  ‘Keep awake, Jim. Hang on. You can do it, I know you can.’ Smacking Jim’s face, Adam hardened his voice: ‘Jim! Don’t make me ashamed of you!’

  When Jim smiled at his last remark, Adam felt a huge surge of relief. ‘You have to trust me, Jim. I need to release you from the bindweed, and then we’ll work together and get you out of here. OK?’

  Jim gave a curt little nod, then he laid his head on the crook of his shoulder, and watched as Adam slid back under the water.

  Adam quickly set about loosening the bindweed that was tightly coiled about Jim’s legs. It was a long and laborious task, but eventually the legs were free. With the removal of the bindweed, the broken knee was now hanging open.

  From above the water line he could hear Jim screaming in pain as the dead weight of the lower leg seemed to be tearing the knee apart.

  Adam came up for air, before going back down.

  Breaking off some lengths of the drifting weeds, he loosely plaited a makeshift bandage. Tying one end above the knee, he wound the bandage down the leg, to secure the other end around Jim’s ankle. That done, he drew the two ends together as far as was possible without actually bending the leg until the gap in the knee was made smaller, thereby taking away the drag of the lower leg.

  Jim’s agonised cries told Adam it was a painful procedure for him to bear, but he urged Adam on.

  On surfacing, he could see the pain etched in Jim’s face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, but there was no time for explanation.

  Hauling Jim out of the water was the most difficult part of all.

  Hoping that someone might be walking the fields, Adam cried out for help, but no one came so the task of heaving Jim onto the bank was left to him alone.

  Little by little, Adam managed to get him onto the upper bank, where the two of them lay side by side, totally exhausted, with Jim slipping in and out of consciousness.

  Jim’s knee was a real concern. When he’d got his breath back Adam knew exactly what he had to do next.

  ‘I’m going for help.’ Adam threw his jacket over Jim’s wounded knee. ‘I’ll make you safe so you don’t fall down the bank … I’ll be as quick as I can.’ With Jim lying prostrate, eyes closed, and his breathing unsteady, Adam was beginning to fear the worst.

  ‘No …’ Jim raised his hand. ‘Please … help me … up!’

  Adam refused, but Jim was in such a state that Adam feared if he didn’t somehow take him from there, Jim would try to follow and end up in the water again. With Jim so determined, and no time to argue, Adam reluctantly decided to help him up.

  The farmer’s wife was at the kitchen window, when she saw two figures struggling up the field.

  Alerting her husband, who went outside to check the strangers, she continued watching from the window.

  She then followed her husband out, and the two of them watched in amazement as the boy continued towards them, part supporting, part carrying a man. They both looked to be in trouble.

  Realizing the emergency of the situation, they began running towards the boy.

  Adam saw them coming. ‘We’re all right,’ he said to Jim, who made no reply. By now, he was too far out of it.

  Bent double with the weight of Jim, Adam was hardly able to stagger on, but seeing the couple hurrying towards them gave him renewed strength as he pushed himself forward. He’d promised Jim he would get help, and he had kept his promise.

  When the farmer took some of the weight onto himself, Adam was close to collapse, but between the two of them, they managed to get Jim to the house, where they laid him on the big oak table in the kitchen.

  In the front parlour, the farmer called the ambulance while his wife tended to Jim, who was slightly delirious and making little sense.

  Adam bent to tell him, ‘You’ll be all right now, Jim. The ambulance is on its way.’

  Adam had given Jim’s name and address to the farmer, urging that he should call Liz, and the farmer went quickly away to make his calls.

  A short time later, after Adam was rested and Jim was made more comfortable, Adam whispered in Jim’s ear, ‘I need you to know, I did not hurt Alice.’

  Not yet fully conscious, Jim seemed not to have heard.

  Deeply unsettled, Adam sat on the bench outside the farmhouse door for a while. His every bone ached, and his heart was heavy. What to do now?

  He thought about going to see his dear friend, Phil. Then he wondered if he should see Liz. But Alice had put a bar between him and the family, and knowing he
would not be welcome, he quickly dismissed that idea.

  So, while the attention of the farmer and his wife was on Jim, Adam decided it was time to leave.

  He did not say goodbye, nor did he linger for them to ask questions. He simply walked away, and kept going until he found a good spot from which he could think.

  His plan was to collect his bag and make his own way in the world.

  He did not plan on going back to the children’s home. Nor did he feel comfortable returning to the family who had taken him in. The family he had come to love.

  He thought of Alice, and he was sorry it had turned out the way it had. But thinking back to Phil’s earlier explanation, he understood how she felt about his being here.

  Now, though, it was time to leave all that behind, and move on.

  More importantly, it was time to leave the boy behind, and become the man.

  Again, he thought of Phil, and decided to contact him at the first opportunity.

  Now, though, for what seemed an age, he sat down on the grassy bank some distance away from the house, just watching and waiting.

  When finally the ambulance arrived, he stood up to see the ambulancemen bring Jim out on a stretcher.

  Satisfied, he gave the whisper of a smile, and reluctantly turned away.

  In the ambulance, Jim constantly asked for Adam, but no one knew where he was. No one had seen him leave.

  All they knew was that the boy had saved the man’s life, and now he was gone.

  The ambulanceman questioned the farmer’s wife as to the boy’s condition. She told how the boy was completely exhausted and in considerable pain when they took him in, but that he was given a hot drink and some clothes that had hung in the wardrobe since her husband was a young man. The boy had changed into them, and seemed much easier in himself. He was not injured as such, but he was very concerned about his companion. ‘When we told him the ambulance was on its way, he was greatly relieved,’ she said.