Reassured by the lit forecourt and drive, he waited for the boy to close the gate behind him.
‘Oh, look! Father’s home.’ Adam pointed to the big Austin saloon parked in the garage entrance. His face fell visibly as he prepared to go in.
In that same moment a man who had to be Adam’s father burst from the house. Lingering a moment in the shade of the porch, he appeared surprised to see the two of them at the gate.
‘Afternoon, Mr Carter.’ Phil raised his hand in greeting, but the other man gave no response as he scurried to his car.
Leaning closer, Adam confided in a whisper, ‘I’m glad he’s going out, because now I’ll be able to spend time with Mum, instead of being made to work in the office with Father.’
Phil understood, but thought it best not to stir up trouble. In his experience family problems usually sorted themselves out. ‘Right, well, I reckon I’d best be on my way.’
‘’Bye, then, and thank you.’ Adam went towards the house, while Phil turned and trudged back down the lane, deep in thought.
He had gone only a short distance when he heard angry yelling.
‘You’ll do as I say, or you’ll feel the length of my belt! Get out of my way, damn you!’
A minute later, Phil heard the sound of a car door being slammed, then the revving of an engine.
Phil thought if that was the father shouting, it was no wonder the boy had little love or respect for him.
Deep in thought, he pushed on down the lane. Suddenly a car skidded past him at break-neck speed, the wheels sending a thick spray of mud all over Phil’s trouser-leg. ‘BLOODY LUNATIC! TRYING TO KILL ME, ARE YOU?’ Shaking his fist as the car bounced out of the lane and onto the main road, he recognised the big Austin belonging to Adam’s father. ‘Bloody madman!’ Phil yelled, brushing the mud from his trousers as he grumbled. ‘You want locking up. You’ve not heard the last of this, I can tell you.’
About to continue on his way, he thought he heard a cry from somewhere behind him. Then he heard it again; this time closer. It was Adam. Running towards Phil, the boy was clearly distressed, ‘Phil … help me!’
When he fell over, he made no attempt to scramble up. Instead, he remained where he fell, calling out, ‘Come back! I need you, Phil … please.’
Slipping and stumbling on the uneven ground, Phil hurried back to him. By then, Adam was crumpled on the ground, frantically rocking back and forth, his two arms crossed over his head as though defending himself.
Shocked, Phil lifted him from the ground and held him close. ‘What is it, son? What’s happened?’ It was clear that something terrible must have happened.
‘We need you … please, Phil.’ Trembling in the man’s arms, the boy glanced about furtively, his eyes big with fear as he looked back towards the house. ‘Phil, you have to come and see.’ He lowered his voice to a confiding whisper. ‘It was him, I know it was. It was him, Phil. I hate him, I hate him!’
‘Ssh … take a deep breath, son. Tell me what’s happened.’
‘I don’t know! You have to help me, Phil … please!’
‘All right, son. Take it easy now. You and me, we’ll go back together.’ He knew it must be something bad to have affected the boy like this, but now was not the time for questions.
As they hurried back to the house, Adam kept asking over and over, ‘He won’t come back, will he? I don’t want him to come back. Please, Phil, don’t let him come back.’
Quickening his steps as best he could, Phil drew him close, constantly reassuring him, though he had no idea of what might have happened.
In the deepening hours of a February afternoon, he took quiet stock of the boy. At first he suspected his father had given him a beating, but the boy appeared to carry no visible cuts or bloodstains. He was thankful for that much, at least.
As they neared the house, Phil tightened his hold on Adam, while continuing to reassure him.
Clinging to Phil, young Adam seemed not to be listening. Instead, he shivered uncontrollably, while constantly glancing back to the main road.
At the gate, Adam drew back, his whole body resisting as Phil tried to move him gently forward.
Then in a sudden burst that took Phil by surprise, he broke away to run up the drive.
Phil quickly followed, then at the porch he hesitated. It went against his principles to enter another man’s property without invitation, especially when that man was hostile. His concerns about the boy, however, urged him on.
A moment or so later, on entering the inner hallway, Phil was faced with a scene so shocking, he could never in a million years have prepared himself for it.
Adam was at the foot of the stairs screaming, ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ his school shirt covered in blood. He ran back to Phil. ‘Look what he’s done, oh, Phil … look what he’s done.’ The boy’s cries were heart-wrenching.
Deeply shaken, Phil crossed to the foot of the stairs and kneeled to examine the woman. He recognised her as Peggy Carter, Adam’s mother, and like the boy, he believed she was past all earthly help.
Lying in a pool of blood, she was covered in angry red bruises. Her eyes were closed and there seemed no immediate signs of life. Her body was grotesquely twisted, with both legs buckled. Her two arms looked as though they were wrenched out of their sockets. The right arm was loosely stretched out, while the other hung through the gap in the banister as though she had tried to use the banister railings to break her fall. Phil was of the opinion that she lost her footing as she tumbled down the stairs and had made a brave but unsuccessful attempt to save herself from serious injury.
‘Adam! Phone for an ambulance.’ There was no time to waste. ‘Go on, son! Hurry!’ He reminded him of the emergency number. ‘Tell them there’s been a terrible accident, and that your mother is unconscious. Tell them they must come at once!’
As the boy ran to do as he was bid, Phil called after him, ‘Don’t forget to give them the address. Hurry, Adam! Hurry!’
WHILE ADAM RAN down the lane to the public phone box on the main road, Phil attended to the injured woman. Taking off his coat, he carefully draped it over her. He then leaned closer to detect signs of breathing, but all he could hear was a deep, rattling sound that sent a shiver of fear through him. He knew he had to keep her warm and talk to her. Feeling more helpless than at any other time in his life, he mumbled, ‘Oh, dear God, be merciful, for it’s Your help she needs now.’
Not knowing whether she could hear him, he leaned closer, his tone reassuring. ‘Mrs Carter, I want you to try and concentrate on my voice. I need you to keep listening to me.’ He tenderly laid his hand over hers. ‘My name is Phil. I’m the driver of the school bus. Adam’s all right, but he’s anxious about you. But don’t worry, I’ll look after him. He’ll be safe enough with me. You just keep listening to my voice. Try and concentrate on what
