The Runaway

by Grace Thompson

  She had heard nothing more from Ian and she assumed that he had grown tired of her evasive attitude. She hesitated to call him. Until Matt was somehow completely out of the picture she wasn’t able to cope with any close friends, specially one who might become something more. Then she met his mother.

  ‘Faith. Faith, dear, wait for me or I’ll soon be out of puff!’

  Faith heard the call and was filled with dread. The voice sounded like Matt’s mother’s and the instinct to run was strong. Forcing herself to turn around it was with relief that she recognized Ian’s mother, who had dropped her baskets and was standing gasping for breath. ‘Heavens, dear, I haven’t run as fast as that for years!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Day. I didn’t realize you were calling me.’ She picked up the shopping and said, ‘Come on, there’s a café across the road. I’ll buy you a cup of tea to apologize.’

  She brought Mrs Day up to date with what had happened since Mrs Thomas had died and was scolded for not letting Ian know where she had gone. ‘He likes you, dear, and hopes you consider him a friend.’

  ‘I do, but life is so complicated. So many changes. I don’t know what I want, and everything is so up in the air, I wake sometimes and wonder where I am and what I’m doing.’

  ‘Your accommodation, is it comfortable?’

  ‘Yes, and Jean Painter provides me with meals as well as the room so I’m very lucky. And looking after Menna Gardener’s three boys has given me an idea for the future.’ She discussed her idea of opening a nursery and as she talked the idea began to grow.

  As they stood to leave Mrs Day said, ‘Come and have lunch with us one day. What about Sunday?’ she added quickly as she saw Faith begin to frown. ‘Ian will come for you and he’ll take you back. Lovely it’ll be, just the three of us.’

  ‘Thank you. That would be very nice.’ Trying to hide her anxiety Faith asked, ‘Where do you live?’ If it was anywhere near Matt she would find an excuse not to go.

  ‘Up by Victoria Park, and please, call me Vivienne,’ she was told, and she sighed inwardly with relief.

  Ian came for her at twelve and took her to a house that was warm and welcoming. There were flowers everywhere, some fresh and some dried and many made of paper. The table was set perfectly and fires in the dining room and living room were blazing brightly. It was a new and wonderful feeling to have someone take so much trouble for her.

  The house was quite large, with two bay-windowed rooms at the front and two more rooms downstairs. Behind the house was a long, level garden and beyond lay fields just perfect for taking children on nature walks. She imagined such a place as accommodation for her nursery and dreamed of where each activity would take place.

  She met Ian and Vivienne several times during the following days, which took them up to Christmas 1960. Sometimes Ian and his mother were together, sometimes he was alone and they walked and talked, but always she had that tight feeling in her heart, knowing she was keeping from him the most important story of all. Her daughter was ten months old, crawling, standing maybe, and beginning to develop her unique personality. She had left it too long and now it seemed impossible to explain.

  She did tell him something about her sad childhood and the years before Matt came into her life and ruined it completely.

  ‘It was the evacuation of children during the war that separated me from my family,’ she told him. ‘My sister Joy and I were promised a place where we could stay together but we were separated at once and I didn’t hear from either Joy or my parents again.’

  ‘Weren’t there organizations to deal with reunions after the war?’ he asked.

  ‘I tried them all, but my father was dead and nothing was known of my mother. I went from the evacuee accommodation to a children’s home. I went from one authority to another which would have made it difficult for them to find me. Then I was fostered several times.’

  ‘Was that better?’

  ‘It might have been, some places were better than others.’ She smiled. ‘I ran away several times and once I got on a train convinced that at the other end of the journey I’d find my family. I was labelled as a troublesome child and that meant yet another new foster-family, then another and another. I eventually settled with a childless couple but they almost immediately learned that they were expecting a child of their own. I had been chosen as a substitute long after they had given up hoping, but with the birth of Jane everything changed. I was no longer wanted, but I think they tried to do what was right; keeping me instead of sending me back to the home was what they thought was best for me.’

  ‘And there you stayed until you decided to move on?’

  ‘I left when it was decided I was old enough to manage on my own. They did their best, I was fed and clothed and looked after but never loved, specially after Jane was born. I was very difficult, I have to admit that, and I definitely made things worse. They went on holidays to which I wasn’t invited. I had to go into the home each time, until they got back.’

  ‘But you managed to train as a teacher. That must have taken determination.’

  ‘As sometimes happens with children like me, difficult, argumentative but with something they recognize as possibilities, a teacher took an interest and talked to my foster-parents. She explained that my difficult behaviour was partly frustration, that I was bright and offered to coax me through my exams.

  ‘Fortunately and thanks to that dedicated teacher, I won a scholarship. I had no friends, so no distractions and I concentrated on my work. I sailed through the exams and qualified as a teacher in 1958 and …’

  She shrugged and turned away as though that was the end of the story. She couldn’t tell him the rest. How could she explain clinging to Nick in desperation when it was fear of loneliness and not love that made her dream of marrying him? Or why she had moved in with Matt when she was far from sure it was what she wanted? Or how she had given in to Matt’s persuasions when he decided she was ready for love, and had even booked a wedding that she didn’t want. And worst of all, how could she look at Ian’s kind and loving face and tell him she had given birth to a child then walked away from her? They went into a café and Ian asked no more questions, sensing her reluctance to say more.

  His own story was simple. He was twenty-five, had completed his two years’ National Service, which he served in the RAF, and was now a salesman driving from town to town on a series of regular routes, selling office equipment. ‘And I still live at home with my mam,’ he said with a smile. ‘I know I should have moved on, but she’s alone and we get on so well that staying seems the sensible thing to do.’

  ‘You’ve never been married?’ she asked.

  ‘I came close,’ he said. ‘The house where we live was bought with the intention of living there with my then fiancée. She left. It was terrible at first although perhaps the embarrassment of explaining to friends was a large part of that.’ He reached out and held her hands, staring into her eyes, his own crinkled with his smile. ‘Now I feel nothing but relief.’

  ‘I thought Nick and I might marry, but I don’t think we’d have been happy.’

  ‘Nick?’ he queried. ‘My fiancée Tessa went off with someone called Nick.’

  Comparing notes they unravelled the coincidence. ‘No wonder we get on so well,’ Ian said with a chuckle. ‘We’re both happy rejects!’

  It had been arranged with Menna Gardener for Faith to have one day a week completely free from the boys and on one of these days she went to Cardiff to meet Winnie. They met in a café where Faith sat in a corner facing the door, warily watching people as they entered, unable to completely relax, afraid of seeing Matt or Carol or someone who knew them. She also continued with the fanciful idea that one day she would see her sister and recognize her, even though they hadn’t met since she was one year old and Joy was three.

  Their day was spent walking around the shops, stopping twice more to sit in a café and talk, amusing each other by relating stories about the children. They didn’t see the ma
n who ran the newsagency a few doors away from Matt and Carol. He stopped and watched them for a few moments then hurried off. This will be something to tell Matt. He couldn’t wait to get home.

  Winnie was getting the children to bed, Paul was watching the television when there was an impatient banging on the door. Paul answered it and Matt burst in calling for Winnie.

  ‘Hey! Get out of here!’ Paul shouted, grabbing the man and trying to push him back out through the door.

  ‘Where’s your wife? She knows where Faith is and I demand that she tells me.’

  Winnie came slowly down the stairs three little heads watching from the banisters.

  ‘Leave now, Matt and I’ll come and talk to you later. Otherwise,’ she added as he struggled to reach her, ‘Paul will phone the police.’

  ‘Just tell me where she is.’

  ‘Later, Matt.’

  Matt relaxed, his shoulders bowed, but as he left he straightened up, raised a fist and said. ‘You’d better come or I’ll come looking for you, right?’

  ‘That’s it. My wife isn’t coming anywhere near you,’ Paul warned and as the man began to struggle again, using aggressive language, Winnie said, ‘Look at yourself, Matt! Do you really need me to explain why she left you?’

  ‘I never harmed Faith. What’s she been telling you?’

  After a few more attempts to persuade Winnie to talk, Matt left. ‘I know she’s in Cardiff, that’s where you were seen,’ he shouted, as Paul closed the door behind him. Winnie and Paul discussed things for a while then Winnie wrote to Faith explaining what had happened.

  Faith read the letter and sighed. Cardiff was a forbidden area for a while, and meeting Winnie was too risky. What a mistake she had made by running away. If she’d been strong enough to face up to it things would have been sorted out by now and she would be free of him. But thinking of the baby she couldn’t really have any regrets. The baby could not have been given to him, and that was the reason why she acted the way she had. This was her burden to bear, she had brought it upon herself with her weakness in not standing up to Matt. Walk away from him, that’s what she should have done, not let things go on until she’d had to walk away from her tiny, helpless baby.

  It was February 1961, the month in which her daughter would be celebrating her first birthday, when she looked after Menna’s boys for the final week, although she promised to help on occasional Saturday mornings. Jake and Keith would be starting school and nursery respectively after the Easter holiday and the youngest, Patrick, would be able to fit in with his parents’ activities as they worked on the new business they were setting up, selling gifts by post. Faith knew she would miss them but thankful that Saturday mornings would continue for a while.

  Fortunately, having decided to return to teaching, she was offered a vacancy in the school that Jake would attend, and at the beginning of the summer term she began teaching the fascinating class of first-timers.

  She didn’t meet the pupils’ mothers immediately, although some stopped by and introduced themselves. Most of the mothers had met the teacher at the beginning of the school year in September and the change of teacher didn’t warrant much involvement. The children were settled and would soon become accustomed to the new face. She took a long time calling and marking the register on those first few days, looking at each child and beginning to memorize their names.

  The school wasn’t far from Jean and Roland’s house and she walked both ways each day. On Friday when her first week was completed she was surprised to see Ian waiting for her among the chattering mothers. He led her to the car and drove her to a café, where he ordered tea and toasted teacakes and found them a table near the window.

  ‘Mam tells me you’re thinking of setting up a nursery for three-and four-year-olds,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget, I can supply all the paper, pencils and the rest.’

  ‘Special price?’ she asked teasingly.

  ‘Special price for a special lady.’

  ‘It won’t be for some time. The money Mrs Thomas left was a wonderful start, though. Building up a few shillings at a time seemed impossible but with a bank balance like that I feel encouraged.’

  ‘Meanwhile you’re happy at school?’

  ‘Very much so. The experience will help too. My job will be partly to prepare them for lessons, to widen their knowledge in an interesting way and open their minds to new things.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Social development.’

  ‘It sounds fascinating.’ He covered her hand with his own. ‘What a wonderful mother you’ll make one day.’

  The words so innocently spoken ruined her mood and she quickly left, refusing his offer of a lift, insisting she preferred to walk. Ian let her go, remembering that her bags and books were in his car which gave him an excuse to call on her later, when she had calmed down from whatever had so suddenly upset her.

  Motherhood? Was that the reason for her sudden distress? Being brought up without a family of her own might still be a painful memory. He tried to imagine a world without his family, nothing to anchor him where he belonged. Affection for Faith grew and he wanted to be her anchor, someone on whom she could completely rely. Then her nickname came into his mind and his dream shattered. He looked at the corner for a last glimpse, hope and happiness flowing out of him, disappearing with the last of her shadow. The runaway. She would leave him too; it was clearly what she did whenever she met trouble. She would leave him just as Tessa had.

  Faith walked for a long time, upset, aware of the mess she had made of her life. She considered the usual solution. Should she walk away now, before she was so deeply involved that the pain would be intolerable?

  Approaching the house on Saturday morning, where Menna stood looking curiously up and down the street, she shook away the tempting thought. Standing her ground was the only way she would ever find happiness – but did she have the strength?

  She increased her pace and waved cheerily to Menna. Then she saw the van. Matt had found her. He was the reason Menna was looking for her. Just in time she realized that Menna’s gestures were not a greeting but an urgent signal for her to go round the back.

  ‘I didn’t know who he was,’ Menna explained later, ‘but there was something I didn’t like about his questions. And he seemed to be simmering with anger. I don’t want to pry but Roland and I guessed there was something you were afraid of, so I phoned Winnie and she warned me not to tell him where to find you.’

  Faith thanked her and promised that one day she would explain. One day, if she really intended to stay, the whole sordid story would have to be told.

  chapter five

  Faith couldn’t sleep. She had to tell her friends the truth, painful as it would be. When Jean came down breakfast was laid and the kettle humming ready to make the tea. When they had eaten, Jean asked her what was wrong, ‘Do you want to leave? I’ll quite understand if you have found somewhere more convenient.’

  Faith looked at her sadly. ‘No, I’m very happy here but after I tell you my story you might prefer to find someone more deserving of your kindness. I had a child, you see and for reasons I can’t explain, I had her adopted.’ Jean listened in silence until Faith had finished.

  ‘Can you tell me why?’

  Faith shook her head. ‘I’ve told no one. Perhaps one day I’ll be ready to explain, but sufficient for you to know that I’m a woman who abandoned her daughter and after living a childhood like mine, not belonging anywhere, it’s impossible to justify without telling the full story and that’s something I can’t do. I’m sorry.’

  Jean said little but she hugged the tearful Faith and said, ‘Please stay with us. Knowing you, I feel sure your reasons were good ones. Now, what about another cup of tea? This one’s gone cold.’

  Faith had arranged to look after Menna’s and Geoff’s children for the day and after talking to Winnie and explaining that she intended to tell them about Matt, they went together.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she began, when they h
ad been invited in and Geoff had joined them, ‘but I don’t think I can look after your children again. I don’t want to be the cause of bringing that man into your house and I don’t think he’ll give up now he’s found me.’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’ Geoff asked. ‘We don’t want to pry, your life is your own, but surely we can find a way round this?’

  ‘We don’t want you to stop being our friend,’ Menna added. ‘We all love having you here. We trusted you with our children, surely that shows we’re your friends?’

  ‘My ex-fiancé has found me and he’s an angry man. I can’t risk him coming here and causing trouble so I’m moving away. The runaway,’ she added tearfully. ‘That’s what they call me and that’s what I am. Any trouble and instead of facing it I move on.’

  Geoff quietly but firmly asked for a full explanation. ‘We’re your friends and so are Winnie and Paul. We can sort this out if you can trust us.’

  Faith hesitated. Could she risk telling them? Maybe the story would spread, become distorted, making her into the villain and Matt the cruelly treated victim. But surely it was better that they should have her version first. They waited in silence, waiting for her to speak and after prolonged soul-searching she handed them the notes she had copied from the old newspapers. She watched for their reaction, her heart racing with the fear of their telling her they were no longer her friends. They were the first people she had told.

  Matt Hewitt had appeared in court charged with the rape of a fourteen-year-old girl, Ethel Holland, who gave birth to a child nine months after the attack. The charge of rape was dropped under pressure from Matt’s defence despite the girl’s distress and injuries but he had spent a term in prison for sexual misconduct with a minor.