‘Any replies?’
‘Not yet. I suppose people are still talking about that newspaper article and are afraid to take a chance on me.’
‘Pity you left the school.’
‘Pity I left? I was told to go when all this came out!’
‘Their loss!’ Winnie replied crisply. ‘Come on, we can walk around and look at the advertisements in shop windows and buy the local paper, reply to a few enquiries. There must be plenty of people looking for a decent place to live.’
‘Decent place?’ Faith laughed. ‘You haven’t seen the rest of the house! I’ve cleaned a couple of rooms plus the kitchen and the small sun room but the rest is still a mess.’
‘Can I see?’
It was wonderful to discuss it with someone. Apart from Ian and Vivienne no one had seen it since she had moved in. Despite all the stories and rumours, Winnie was still her friend and she was grateful.
‘We’ve got a few things you might be able to use,’ Winnie said as she explored the remaining rooms. ‘A chest of drawers and a couple of chairs. Paul can bring them if you’d like them.’ For a reply. Faith moved towards her and gave her a hug.
Ian arrived as Winnie was about to leave and she stayed a while longer, going into the kitchen where paint tins and the rest of the paraphernalia of decorating filled a rickety table, and making tea. She chatted to Ian about her childhood memories, making him laugh and add stories of his own.
Faith sat a little apart from them and it was as though she were a stranger there. She wanted Winnie to leave. Frightened and inexplicably apprehensive, she felt like an outsider looking in. Was it a reminder for her not to take anything for granted? To remind her that friendships were transitory and Ian was just a naturally friendly and helpful man?
He had called to deliver a pair of curtains his mother had found and when Winnie left, he walked to the gate with her. They stood talking and laughing for a few moments, then Ian obviously offered her a lift and, with a wave, they set off together.
A few days later, the two rooms she had managed to prepare for lodgers, or paying guests, as Vivienne called them, were completed, although only one was fully furnished. Faith had received several enquiries and had set up interviews with two of them.
Winnie and Paul and their family arrived in a van with furniture, a few ornaments and cushions and pictures. Jack, Bill and Polly ran from room to room like frantic puppies, shouting at each discovery. Ian and Vivienne arrived and, seeing Winnie breathless as she and Faith tried to move a chair into the chosen position, Ian went to help, laughing, teasing Winnie and calling her Olive Oil, Popeye’s skinny girlfriend. The two men sat and discussed the garden, drawing plans of what could be done and the evening ended with them all in the garden, sipping some home-made lemonade brought by Vivienne.
When she went to bed on the now familiar couch that night, Faith felt hope and rising excitement. Perhaps this really was the place where she would finally make her home. Ian might not be a transient friend just helping out someone in trouble, but might stay and become a permanent part of her life. Her life was certainly beginning to open out in the most unexpected way. All I have to do now, she reminded herself, is get a job, and fill these empty rooms.
Then as sleepiness began to make her thoughts hazy, the usual sorrowful picture that always ended her day raced back and she imagined the tiny form of her child. Seeing only her black hair, her head turned way from her, so her face was unimaginable.
chapter six
Several people called to look at the larger of the rooms Faith planned to let, and she eventually took two single women, nurses, who were working at the local hospital. Both said they wanted the accommodation for three months only and Faith decided that that was a good plan. The alternative was to advertise the rooms as holiday accommodation, and that would mean more work, dealing with changed occupation every Saturday. Three months would give her a chance to try the idea of sharing her very first home with strangers. She could change her mind if she wasn’t completely happy about it.
Ian’s mother, Vivienne, continued to offer support and called often with a few additions to the furnishings. She brought flowers, as well as some small items similar to those Winnie had considered necessary, such as ornaments and cushions, the things that made a house into a home. Ian was away from home, travelling around the towns and villages of Somerset on his monthly visits.
It was as she was putting the finishing touches to the third bedroom, which would be her own, that Mrs Monk called. Olive Monk was in her late forties and her two sons came with her. She introduced them as Colin and Graham, aged twenty and twenty-one. ‘They’re in the Navy, see,’ Mrs Monk explained, ‘and they want me to find a safe little room where I can wait for them to finish their time. Then we’ll get a house together.’
Something about the story seemed odd. Young men would be looking for a place of their own, wouldn’t they? When she suggested this, Mrs Monk nodded agreement.
‘I keep hoping they’ll find a nice wife and settle down but they insist they want me settled first. Lovely boys they are.’
Doubtfully, Faith showed them into the house where she explained about her own intention to deal with the breakfast and, if required, an evening meal. ‘I won’t allow the tenants to cook,’ she said apologetically. ‘My rooms and the kitchen are out of bounds apart from breakfast which, I hope, we’ll eat together.’
‘I understand,’ Mrs Monk agreed. ‘Can we see the room?’
Faith had given the largest room to the nurses. Later, if the nurses didn’t stay, she would use it for summer visitors. Having chosen the middle room for herself, she showed the small back room to Mrs Monk and her sons.
‘Oh dear,’ the woman remarked as the door was opened. ‘This’ll never do. Never fit in here I won’t, will I boys?’
‘It’s quite a good size, twelve feet by twelve. Plenty of room with just a bed, a chair and a wardrobe.’
‘Where would I put me stuff?’
‘If you would like another cupboard I can probably find one.’
‘Not another cupboard. I need somewhere to sit and stretch me legs. Haven’t you got something larger?’
‘Sorry Mrs Monk, but this is all I have.’ Faith felt a surge of relief, thinking the woman would walk away. There was something about the woman that made her distrustful, although she would have found it impossible to explain exactly what that something was. She didn’t like the careless way the two young men were dressed. Their clothes were shabby and in need of an iron. On their feet they wore what the locals called daps – plimsoll’s – that had once been white. Although she had no experience with Navy personnel, she didn’t think these two looked the part. They weren’t smart enough. The Senior Service, wasn’t that what they were called? Neat and tidy was how she imagined sailors to be; surely, with the limited space on a ship, they had to be? And one of them had a moustache, small and a bit uneven and she half-remembered being told that a sailor had either the full set, full beard and moustache or had to be clean-shaven. Although, she conceded, that might no longer be true.
The two young men were standing at the window, looking out. One of them touched his mother on the shoulder and said, ‘Mam, I think you should take it. Come and look at the garden. It’s such a nice place to sit and look out at the flowers.’
‘Not many flowers yet,’ Faith said, ‘but that will be my next project, to get some colour in the borders and improve the lawn.’
‘We can help when we have our next leave,’ the one called Colin offered.
‘You’ll enjoy watching the birds from here,’ the other son said.
‘All right, my sons know best, I’ll take it.’
Faith nodded but with a feeling of regret. ‘A month’s trial on both sides?’ she suggested on impulse and the woman stared at her but agreed. Then Mrs Monk spent several minutes trying to persuade her to reduce the price. Faith remained firm, still half-hoping the woman would change her mind. But eventually everything was agreed and tw
o days later Mrs Monk moved in, with her sons helping. Again, seeing the odd collection of boxes and packages that went into the small room, Faith had misgivings, but she decided to give it a try. Thank goodness she’d added the month’s trial proviso.
To her relief, Mrs Monk was a quiet tenant and caused her no concerns. Her sons, Colin and Graham visited and after three more days, shook Faith’s hand and told her they were returning to their ship and wouldn’t be back until October.
‘Look after our mam, will you?’ Colin asked. ‘She gets very lonely while we’re away.’
‘Yes, there’s no one else, see, only Mam and us boys.’
The nurses Catrin and Debbie moved into the front bedroom and the house settled into a pleasant routine. The rather ancient lean-to at the back, beyond the kitchen, was in need of attention, but it was sturdy and after a thorough cleaning it became the breakfast room. It was built of wood which, after sanding, staining and varnishing was discovered to be beautifully carved. Two cracked panes were replaced, the windows given some curtains and the slate floor a cheerful rug and it had an air of elegance that Faith had not expected.
With everything gleaming it was a pleasant place to sit. Ian had climbed up and removed the dead leaves fallen there from a nearby tree and washed the glass, letting in a surprising amount of extra light.
The first evening meal. a welcome to her guests, was a pleasant affair with each of her new lodgers adding to the friendly conversation and a little banter. It all augured well. Perhaps, Faith thought, crossing her fingers with hope, this new phase of my life will be a happy one.
At the end of the first week, Faith suddenly realized that her fear of seeing Matt arriving, forcing his way in, had subsided to little more than a memory. Thoughts of her daughter were as powerfully painful as ever.
She was sitting in the breakfast-room one morning after clearing the breakfast dishes when there was a knock at the door. She went to answer it, a smile on her lips as she wondered whether it was Vivienne calling on her way to the shops. It was Mrs Monk. ‘Sorry I am but I’ve lost my key. Silly of me. Do you have a spare?’
‘No, I don’t, but I’ll get one cut when I go to the shops. I’d prefer you to find it though. Can you remember when you last had it?’
‘I must have lost it between here and the main road. I’ll ask in a few shops.’
‘I wish you would, Mrs Monk. I’ve already handed out three and I do want to keep track of where they are.’
‘I’ll go back now this minute.’ With a wave she trotted back down the path and through the gate. Twenty minutes later she was back, calling Faith, letting herself in with her key. She held it up and waggled it. ‘There, found by a young man it was. He was just about to hand it in to the butcher’s.’
Faith didn’t have a good look at the key but she thought it looked different, more shiny. Could she have had an extra one cut without telling me? Now I am getting paranoid, she thought with a grim smile. ‘Will you leave your door open on Friday,’ she asked. ‘I need to get in and clean.’
‘No need, Miss Pryor. I’ll do it myself. Oh, I’ve ordered a wireless, that all right? Love the wireless I do.’
Although most of her time was spent at the house Faith saw little of her neighbours. Apart from a smile and a polite wave, she hurried past their houses without any attempt at friendship. Using work as an excuse, she told herself that one day, when everything was settled she would talk to them and behave as a good neighbour should. Until then, she felt happier avoiding chatting with strangers.
The story in the newspapers, and the fact she had been asked to leave the school on the grounds she was unsuitable to work with children caused her shame and constant anxiety. Everyone must know about her troublesome past and she had the choice of explaining to practically everyone she met, or staying out of everybody’s way. She preferred the latter. Shopping, a walk through the fields to Dinas Powys or a brief visit to the park where she sat and watched children at play, these were her only escapes from the house and all the work it entailed.
She had explained to Vivienne her reluctance to go to Cardiff, but she was persuaded to change her mind and make arrangements to meet Winnie. ‘I’ll come with you and be your guard dog if you like, but I don’t think you’ll need me. Best for you to go on your own, face up to your fear. If you go during the week he’ll be working, won’t he?’
Arrangements were made by letter and, to reassure Faith, Winnie suggested they should travel separately, Winnie by bus, Faith on the train. Stepping off the train and seeing Winnie waving, smiling as she approached, was as exciting as some dates had been she told her friend with a smile. ‘I feel like a prisoner let out of prison. Although the house doesn’t really feel like a prison,’ she added swiftly. ‘I love it and working on it has been fun. My paying guests are very little trouble, more like friends.’
It was good to sit and exchange news. Faith made Winnie laugh as she listed her suspicions regarding Olive Monk, making them sound ridiculous. Although, she still had doubts about the woman and decided she would watch her with extra care.
Before they parted, Faith hesitantly asked if there was any news about the baby.
‘Nothing. There isn’t any way I can hear news of her,’ Winnie reminded gently. ‘It’s April 1961, she’ll be fourteen months old and settled with her new family. I expect the authorities will be keeping a watch over her for some time so she’ll be safe.’
‘And Matt? Has he given up trying to prove he’s the father?’
‘According to his mother he is still demanding to have the child, but I presume the adoption has gone through and there’s nothing he can do.’
‘I always refer to it as fostering, it seems less final, but yes, she’s legally adopted and no longer mine.’
‘I’m sorry, Faith.’
‘I made the right decision. If I had taken the child there’d be no end to Matt’s determination to take control of her life. I couldn’t wish him on my precious child. I did the right thing, I’m sure of that, no matter how I ache to see her, hold her, watch her grow. It was the worst thing I ever did in my life but the best for her. Can’t you see that?’ Tearfully, she kissed her friend goodbye and hurried towards the railway station.
‘Yes. Yes, I can,’ Winnie called after her.
*
Although she tried to hide it from her son, Carol Hewitt was constantly grieving. Life was cruel. She had two granddaughters, neither of whom she could see. The first one had been born after an accusation of rape and the trauma of the prison sentence, the second born to Faith who ran away and left her child, insisting Matt was not the father, denying her a granddaughter for a second time.
After the affair with Faith and the loss of the baby Matt showed no evidence of having a woman friend. He worked alone and was solitary in his spare time.
She had seen him flirting with customers once or twice but nothing came of it. It was as though Faith had destroyed a spark within him and there was no sign of it reigniting.
He was a handsome man with his strong physique, thick, jet-black hair and those deep, dark eyes, but women could see the underlying anger there and wouldn’t take a chance. Anger swelled within her towards Faith. Why hadn’t she talked to me? I’d have explained, made her believe the story of the attack and rape of Ethel Holland was a lie.
She was standing at the window when she saw a young woman come into the yard. She’d seen her before. She had bought a small rabbit statue as a gift for her parents. She crossed her fingers, hoping she had come back to talk to Matt.
She watched as they talked for a while and he showed her round his store and sketches of work he was soon to undertake. Then, to her relief, she saw him follow her to the gate and talk some more. They seemed reluctant to part.
‘Who was that?’ she asked casually when he came in later.
‘Her name is Sue and I’m taking her out Saturday night,’ he said.
‘Good. She looked rather pleasant.’
On Friday, while Ma
tt was at the bank, Sue knocked on the door and handed Carol a note. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t manage Saturday. Will you give this to your son, please?’
‘Another day?’ Carol said amiably.
‘I don’t think so.’ The girl looked anxious to leave.
‘Heard some gossip I suppose. It isn’t true, you know. It’s lies, all of it. My son has been treated unfairly and—’
‘I’m sorry.’ The girl pushed the note into Carol’s hand and hurried away.
When she told Matt he just shrugged. ‘She knows Winnie, so I expect it was she who told her not to trust me.’
As soon as Matt left the house, Carol went to Winnie’s door. When Paul opened it she demanded to talk to his wife.
Paul shook his head. ‘No, I’m sorry but my wife is unwell,’ he explained.
‘Just tell her to stop interfering in my son’s life!’ Carol shouted. Paul apologized for his rudeness and firmly closed the door.
‘She must have come to complain about Sue,’ Paul said with a shrug. He sat near Winnie, who lay on the couch, her breathing laboured as they waited for the doctor to arrive.
Ian came home at the weekend and on Saturday afternoon he called to see Faith. She didn’t hear the knock at the door and he found her in the garden. Brambles had torn her apron and brought chaos to her hair, her cheeks were rosy with the strenuous effort of clearing the overgrown hedge, there was mud on her cheeks and he thought she was beautiful. He stood for a long time just watching her, enjoying the sight of her.
The sound of the wireless came from the window of Mrs Monk’s room and Ian nodded towards the sound. ‘Your new lodger, I presume. Behaving, is she?’
‘Ian! I didn’t see you there. Yes, Olive spends a lot of time in her room and when she does go out she locks her door. She pays her rent on time and apart from the music being a bit loud at times, I have no complaints, although I’ve no way of knowing whether she keeps the place clean.’
The Runaway Page 11
