you’ll have made a friend or two.’
Adam began to panic. Throwing his arms round Phil’s ample belly, he pleaded tearfully, ‘I’m frightened. Please, Phil, let me come home with you.’
It took every ounce of strength for Phil to speak calmly and reassure the boy. Holding him at arm’s length, he stooped to his level, and, looking into his eyes, he asked, ‘Do you think I would ever lie to you?’
Adam shook his head.
‘So, you must know that what I’ve told you is the truth, that your mother is watching over you, and that she won’t let any harm come to you. And don’t forget, you’ll always have me looking out for you.’
Fishing into his pocket, he took out a pen and a tatty old envelope. ‘Look, I’m writing my address down for you, and if ever you need to tell me things that you can’t tell anybody else, just write me a letter.’ He glanced at Miss Martin. ‘He is allowed to do that, isn’t he?’
‘Of course, but there are certain regulations, so we will need to see the letter before it goes out.’
‘Huh! Well, I’m sure he won’t be planning a bank robbery with me …’ He gave an aside wink at Adam.
When Adam chuckled, Phil grabbed him in a hug. ‘Aw, son, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself. Try not to fret too much, and don’t let yourself dwell on the bad things that have happened.’
Fishing into his pocket for a second time, he drew out a handful of coins, which he gave to Miss Martin. ‘This is Adam’s money … for stamps, or whatever other small thing he’s able to buy.’
‘Thank you, though we do have a small budget for certain incidentals.’ All the same, she slipped the coins into her pocket. ‘But I’ll keep them safe for him.’
‘’Bye for now, son.’ Phil kissed the top of Adam’s head. ‘Remember … the sun nearly always shines after the rain. I’ll keep my fingers crossed that the authorities will find your relatives.’ He made a point of not mentioning Adam’s father.
When Phil climbed into the car alongside the Welfare officers, Miss Martin held onto Adam, who waved until his arms ached. Then, as the car went out of sight, his sobbing was pitiful to hear.
Her heart being slightly softer than her authoritative exterior, Miss Martin slid her arm round his shoulders. ‘Your friend Phil has promised he’ll be back tomorrow, and I’m sure he will.’
‘He will! I know he will!’
‘Well, there you are then.’
Adam confided brokenly, ‘My mum … she …’ he took a deep breath, ‘… she died. Did you know that?’
‘Yes, they told me, and I’m so sorry, but we will care for you here, Adam. We will look after you. For as long as it takes.’
‘I don’t want to be here.’
‘I know, and I do understand.’
‘NO! You don’t, because you didn’t know my mum. You didn’t know how kind she was, and how funny, and sometimes she would race me across the fields, and now … and …’ he could no longer hold back the heartbreak, ‘I want her back … I miss her.’ Knowing he would never again see his beloved mother, never again hear her voice or feel her small, strong arms around him, he wept bitterly and his cries were terrible to hear.
Miss Martin understood. ‘Listen to me, Adam. I do know what it’s like to lose your mother, because I lost mine when I was not much older than you.’ She had an idea. ‘Do y’know what? I would love to know what your mum was like. She sounds wonderful. So, how about you and I go and have a chat? Then we can talk together, and ask each other all the questions that are in our minds. Afterwards, we can meet up with some of the staff and children. Would you like that, Adam?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, shall we just go and have a little chat on our own? Afterwards, you can decide whether you want to meet some of the children, and maybe one or two members of staff? Is that all right with you?’
Again, Adam nodded, but really he just wanted to run after that car, and his only friend, Phil.
‘Right then! So that’s what we’ll do.’ Taking hold of his hand, Miss Martin quickened her steps.
Adam was reluctant. Pulling back against her iron grip and dragging his feet, he glanced towards the windows, his forlorn gaze constantly drawn to where the car had taken Phil out of sight.
He could not understand why or how everything had happened so very quickly, and he was so afraid. This morning he had gone to school as usual, and afterwards, Phil had walked him home. And now Phil was gone, his mother was gone, and his father had run away.
‘Come along, Adam,’ Miss Martin interrupted his thoughts. ‘There’s no time for wasting. Lots to do … lots to talk about.’
She led him smartly along the corridor and through the house to the parlour, which doubled as her office. ‘Here we are, Adam. Now then, how about a glass of fresh orange juice?’
Unceremoniously plonking him onto the sofa, she firmly closed the door and cut across the room to the sideboard. ‘I think we deserve a little treat, don’t you?’ Without waiting for an answer, she took out a small tumbler and a fluted glass.
Humming a merry tune under her breath, she first poured the orange juice into the tumbler, and then she poured a sizeable helping of sherry into the glass. ‘One for each of us,’ she chirped.
While she bustled about, Adam felt more lost and frightened than at any other time in his life.
Everyone he knew had gone away. Everything familiar had changed, and now he was alone among strangers.
ANNE WYMAN LOVED the little house, formerly her aunt’s, on the outskirts of Bedford. It was her pride and joy, but most of all, it was her safe hideaway.
When she’d arrived in Bedford some thirteen years ago, she was a frightened young woman on the run.
Fearful that the man from her past would find her, she would wait until the street was empty before venturing out. When a kindly neighbour might attempt to make small talk, she would merely give a brief nod of the head, before hurrying away.
Back then, after she fled, she was at her most vulnerable. When night fell thick and heavy, she would climb up the stairs to her darkened bedroom and cautiously inch open the curtains just enough for her to peer through to the street below. Then she would kneel by the window and peek out until her eyeballs were sore and her bones ached from the kneeling.
