The Runaway

by Grace Thompson

  ‘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?’

  ‘As I told you, I’m a housekeeper companion to a lady in her seventies.’

  ‘That sounds like hard work to me. Don’t they keep you running around like a demented terrier?’

  ‘She’s a very sweet lady. Most of the time I simply keep her company, listening to the radio or records and discussing what we hear. I read to her, which I enjoy, and I do the cooking and I rather enjoy that, too. I pretend I have a house of my own and imagine I’m preparing a lavish meal for friends.’

  ‘Matt refers to you as “the runaway”. Do you regret, you know, running away like you did?’

  ‘Specially today.’

  ‘Of course. It’s the fourteenth of August. She will be six months old.’

  ‘It was cowardly and of course I regret it. Specially today. But Matt …’ She paused, then said, ‘There was no way I could have stayed. My regret at walking away is a continuous ache. I long to hold a baby in my arms, but leaving her was something I had to do, I can’t regret walking away. And I know leaving Matt was the only choice. There was no way I could stay with him. But my regret at having to leave the baby doesn’t get any easier. I try to tell mys
elf I would never have loved her.’

  ‘Of course you would! Whatever the problem was, you’d have put it right. You must have felt something for Matt. You married him.’

  Faith couldn’t tell her friend the marriage hadn’t taken place. She turned away to hide the sudden flood of tears.

  ‘What happened, Faith? Do you want to tell me?’

  ‘One day perhaps. When I feel safe from him.’ She waited for the tears to subside then asked, ‘What are people saying about me?’

  ‘No one understands. How could they unless you tell them why? The runaway, that’s what they all call you.’

  ‘Have you heard anything about the baby?’

  ‘She was named Dorothy and is being fostered, with a view to adoption. Why don’t you come and explain things? Matt is entitled to an explanation, surely?’

  ‘Matt wasn’t the father.’ She looked away from her friend as she lied.

  ‘If Matt wasn’t the father, was she Nick’s child?’

  ‘No, not Nick. Ironic wasn’t it, her being born on St Valentine’s Day.’ she said bitterly. She quickly asked about Winnie’s family, anxious to change the subject before tears began. If they did she thought they would never stop. Winnie knew she would learn nothing more until her friend was ready to talk.

  They parted at 2.30 as her friend needed to be home before the children were out of school. Faith went towards the station but didn’t get on a train. She needed something to distract her, stop her thinking about the helpless child, the tiny baby called Dorothy from whom she had coldly walked away. It wouldn’t hurt to wait another hour or so before catching a train back to Barry. The runaway, the nickname tortured her, repeating time and again in her head until she thought she would scream.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on something else, she went to Cardiff’s famous market where she bought a few items from the tempting displays of fruit and vegetables. At other stalls she looked at cushions and curtain material and she dreamed of one day having a place of her own.

  Wandering through Howells’s department store, and David Morgan’s she went through the various departments, furnishing rooms in her imagination. Living rooms, kitchen, bedrooms, the dreams continued and it was almost 3.30 when she looked at her watch. Time she was leaving.

  She was startled to see Ian standing looking around at the approaching faces. She had forgotten him in her morbid mood. He smiled widely when he saw her and she responded with a feeling of relief. She knew the mood would have continued if she’d been sitting in a carriage on her own; he was at least a break from her guilty thoughts. The shoppers were beginning to leave and the train quickly filled up. Friends were chattering, others were meeting by chance and comparing their purchases, laughing, making plans for another trip. If she hadn’t met Ian, Faith knew their cheerfulness would have exacerbated her loneliness. They found seats facing each other next to the window and sat with slight uneasiness. They were still strangers and an arranged meeting was at odds with how little they knew about each other.

  At first she didn’t know what to say. He might be alarmed if she explained about her daydreams of having a home of her own; he might think she was man-hunting! And if he knew about the conversation with Winnie, of how she had given birth to a healthy daughter, then walked away from her, he would surely think she was inhuman.

  She did tell him about her job, explaining it was temporary while she considered where she wanted to live and what she wanted to do. ‘I’m a teacher,’ she told him, ‘but I needed a change and some time away to think about what I want to do, so I left the place where I was living, and—’

  ‘You ran away? How daring!’

  She stared at him. ‘That’s the second time today I’ve been called a runaway. It wasn’t like that,’ she lied. ‘I knew I wasn’t happy, so I decided to move right away, consider what I wanted, make a few changes, that’s all.’

  ‘Still brave.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  They were approaching Cogan and he said, ‘Meet me for dinner one evening and we can discuss bravery.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m a paid companion and that means I’m needed to spend time with my employer.’

  ‘All the time?’

  ‘Not all the time but I don’t have much free time during the day. I cook the meals, besides the companion side of my job.’

  ‘No day off?’

  ‘Sometimes, like today when she went to spend a day with her son.’

  ‘Next time, then? Please?’ He took out a notebook and scribbled furiously as the train squealed huffily to a stop. ‘My address,’ he said as he handed it to her. ‘Please write or telephone and let me know when you’re free. I’d very much like to see you again.’

  She took it and avoided a reply as the train stopped and started then stopped again, making everyone stagger and laugh. She waved until he was out of sight and wondered if they would ever meet again. The thought of confessing how she had abandoned her child, run away without explanation, was like a dark cloud. How could she tell him? And, if they became friends, how could she not tell him?

  Slowly she tore up the paper bearing his name and address and dropped it into a litter bin as she walked from the station.

  The day out had confused her. She had been happy to see Winnie and flattered by Ian’s interest, but for the following few nights sleep evaded her. Memories of how she had felt as she had walked away from Matt and his mother, and the baby, tormented her. Yet there had been no alternative once she had read those newspaper reports.

  She went over the conversation with Winnie. She had a six-month-old daughter called Dorothy. Dorothy Pryor. Her wishes had been followed. The child she had refused to accept had been given her mother’s name, a mother she had never known. History was cruelly repeating itself in a way she would never have believed she would even contemplate. Abandoning a child to a fate as heartless as her own. How could she have done such a thing?

  Dorothy, born on St Valentine’s Day, 1960 and fostered with a family who wanted to adopt her. That hurt more than she had expected. Adoption was so final, and there was still a part of her who saw the tiny baby as simply that, an innocent baby, not a tainted human being who might grow into someone as evil as her father.

  Over the following weeks she met Winnie several times but didn’t ask for news of Matt or his mother. She had to close that part of her life away in a dark corner of her mind, hoping it would become less and less real. She always searched the faces of the crowd hoping for a glimpse of Ian, but his car would have been mended long ago and there was little chance of meeting him again on the train.

  As summer drifted by on a cloud of warm days filled with gardening and long walks, she began to relax and accept the tragedy of her lost child. Mrs Thomas was undemanding and she was as content with life as she could expect. The only irritations were the occasional visits of Mrs Thomas’s son, Samuel. He usually came for lunch and quickly made it clear that she was not expected to eat with them, but simply wait at table. She ate her meal in the kitchen like a disgraced child and listened to his list of complaints with stoicism. He was clearly suspicious of her friendliness toward his mother, almost, but not quite, pointing out he was aware of the danger of his weak mother changing her will. After his departure, she and Mrs Thomas would joke a little about his over-fussiness, although Faith avoided mentioning his fears about his inheritance.

  In late September, while the town was still overflowing with holidaymakers, Faith became aware that Mrs Thomas was less active. They always spent afternoons in the garden when the weather was sunny. Sometimes Faith would read to her and when necessary she would weed flower-beds and dig up plants that were past their prime. They went together to the growers and chose their future displays and while Mrs Thomas sat in the shade and advised, Faith did the planting.

  Of late, Faith had gone on chatting to her before realizing she had fallen asleep. Then she would go in and prepare a tea tray before gently waking her.

  One afternoon when they
had planned to dead-head roses, Mrs Thomas said she would stay indoors.

  ‘But it’s so lovely now with the fuchsias and annuals still giving such a wonderful display. And besides, I need you to tell me where and how to dead-head your roses,’ Faith coaxed.

  ‘Not today, dear. I’ll just sit in my armchair.’

  ‘What if I took your armchair outside? The air is so still, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Just a half-hour or so?’

  ‘My mother says she wants to stay inside. You are bullying her, Miss Pryor.’ The voice of her employer’s son startled her. She hadn’t heard his approach.

  ‘Bullying? What do you mean? She loves sitting in her garden!’

  ‘Not today. She’s made that clear, to any one who’s capable of listening.’

  Ignoring him she leaned down and asked, ‘Was I too persistent? I’m sorry, Mrs Thomas, I didn’t mean to bully you. If you’re sure you don’t want to go outside, then I’ll bring our tea in here.’

  ‘Our tea! Mine and my mother’s. You can take yours in the kitchen. I need to talk to my mother in private.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Thomas.’

  Red-faced with humiliation she went into the kitchen and turned on the radio so he wouldn’t accuse her of eavesdropping. She carried in the tea tray and began to pour but she was told to leave. As she walked past, Mrs Thomas held her back and said. ‘Thank you, dear. We’d better leave those roses till tomorrow.’

  A few minutes later, hearing her name, and angry at the man’s treatment of her, her good intentions forgotten, Faith stood near the door and brazenly listened to the conversation. If he were planning to dismiss her then the sooner she knew the better. The voices weren’t loud but both spoke clearly and it was soon apparent that she was correct in her suspicions and he was trying to persuade his mother to ask her to leave.