The Broken Man (Special Edition) Read online

  ‘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.

  PART TWO

  The Unwanted Visitor

  1957

  CHAPTER FOUR

  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.

  Haunted by the memory of Edward Carter, a madman who had twice beaten her to within an inch of her life, she had learned over the years to remain ever vigilant. Night after night, and even in the daylight hours, she made herself ready for when he might emerge from the shadows.

  At first, having finally escaped from him, she would hardly dare close her eyes to sleep. Instead, aching with tiredness, she would listen to every sound, every slight movement, fearing the moment when he might snatch her away.

  So she watched and waited, and eventually she would fall asleep, but it was not an easy sleep. Not then.

  And not now.

  Today was Saturday. Both herself and her friend Sally had completed their weekly quota of hours working at Woolworths, so this was their day off to do with as they liked.

  The thought of spending quality time with Sally brought a smile to Anne’s face.

  The weather had been bright and sunny all week. Having already decided that, if the weather held, they would drive to Yarmouth, it now seemed that a day at the seaside would be a reality.

  Anne hummed a little ditty as she went into the hallway to the telephone. Grabbing up the big black receiver, she dialled Sally’s number. It was a while before her friend answered.

  ‘Hello?’ She sounded sleepy.

  ‘Sally, being as it’s a lovely day, I was wondering, are we still on for Yarmouth?’ She kept her fingers crossed, because if Sally didn’t go, then neither would she, and she was really looking forward to it now.

  Sally, however, was of the same mind. ‘Yeah, I’m up for it.’

  ‘Great!’ Anne did a little dance on the spot. ‘So, d’you want me to drive?’

  ‘Well, my car’s leaking oil again, so if we go in yours we might actually get there. I meant to deliver mine to the garage but I haven’t had time.’ She groaned. ‘To tell the truth, I keep putting it off, because the mechanic will probably tell me to dump it anyway. He reckons it’s well and truly worn out but it’s all I can afford, so I’ll have to make do with it for now.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got savings,’ Anne said. ‘I can lend you some, and you can pay me back whenever.’

  Sally would not hear of it. ‘I know how long you’ve scrimped and saved to put a few quid aside. That money is your security and peace of mind, and I would never dream of taking it.’

  ‘It’s OK, really. I don’t mind. It would be a real pain if your car broke down altogether.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s like an old soldier. It’s been patched up before and it’ll be patched up again. Meantime, I’ll have to stop gadding about and save a few shillings every week until I’ve got enough to get it put right.’

  ‘OK, so I’ll pick you up in what … an hour?’

  ‘I’ll be ready in half an hour.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Anne knew from experience how long it took Sally to get ready, and by the sounds of it, she had only just got out of bed.

  ‘I’ll be ready, don’t worry.’

  ‘Right!’ Growing excited, Anne resumed her humming as she swiftly cleared away the last of the breakfast things. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was already half-past eight. ‘Crikey! I’d best get a move on.’ It was a fifteen-minute drive to Kempston where Sally lived, and at this time on a Saturday the roads could be busy.

  Having tidied the kitchen, she made sure the back door was locked and bolted before running upstairs and into the bathroom. She quickly cleaned her teeth, ruffled her fine blonde hair and ran back downstairs; grabbing her coat and bag as she went out the front door.

  As always, whenever leaving the house, she made doubly sure that the front door was secured. She then glanced up at the bedroom windows to satisfy herself that they were closed. For good reason, she had learned over the years to keep her wits about her as far as her own security was concerned.

  These days, though, she was slightly less paranoid than she had been on first arriving in this quiet b
ackstreet many years ago. Even so, the bad memories and a dark, nagging fear that Edward Carter might find her still lurked at the back of her mind.

  Clambering into her beloved Morris Minor, she slammed shut the door and then checked through her handbag. She opened her purse: three pound and six shillings, more than enough.

  Next she drew out a stick of rouge and a powder compact. She looked at her reflection in the compact mirror while she dabbed a little make-up over her cheekbones. ‘Anne Wyman, you’re no oil painting, but you’re all you’ve got, so you’ll have to do!’ she muttered to herself. Retrieving her lipstick from her handbag, she painted her full, plump mouth with the pale pink lipstick.

  She then returned the items to her handbag, started the engine, checked for oncoming traffic, and drew away from the kerb.

  At the top of Roff Avenue, she slowed and checked in the driver’s mirror. Her eyes were instantly drawn to a tall, dark-haired figure heading away towards the far end of Roff Avenue. He was walking slowly, almost strolling. He seemed nervous, his head turning this way and that, as though searching for something or someone.

  Anne’s heart skipped a beat. She could hardly breathe. ‘Stop that!’ she chided herself. The past is long behind you.

  The man was out of sight now and, with an irate driver honking his car horn behind her, Anne shifted into gear and drew away.

  Some short distance down the road, she pulled over and switched the engine off. Wrapping her trembling fingers around the steering wheel, she gripped it so tight her knuckles turned white.

  ‘Pull yourself together, girl!’

  She reminded herself that this was not the first time she’d imagined he was actually in her street searching for her. And each time she’d been wrong.

  After a few minutes, feeling calmer, she restarted the engine and set off again. By now, there was no sight of the man who had truly unnerved her.

  Edward Carter was in a foul mood. Having been up and down the back alley, peeking into yards and hanging about, he had still not been able to catch sight of her. He knew the house was in this street. He’d seen the address in the past enough damned times to know he’d got the right place. Roff Avenue, Bedford.

  Unkempt and agitated, he had been on the run far too long. He needed a place to hide to keep his head down for a while. He had a plan, and it involved Anne Wyman, the girl he had married all those years ago. The naïve, trusting little girl who eventually ran off and left him. She owed him, and she was still his wife … whether she liked it or not.

  He chuckled to himself. If she really thought he might never come looking for her, she was in for a real surprise.

  He continued to wander up and down the back alley, growing increasingly agitated, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the houses.

  When a couple of people turned into the alley and wandered past him, he flattened himself against the wall, pretending to light a cigarette. As they went past, he nodded amiably to them. ‘Morning.’

  After a fleeting acknowledgement, the couple walked on, though they turned once to take another look at him. When he stared back, they made a hasty exit.

  The policeman had not long turned the corner into Roff Avenue when he saw the man head into the alley, and now, as he noticed the couple hurrying out, he grew curious and crossed the street to investigate.

  Edward Carter saw the policeman approaching, and, speaking in his finest voice, he cunningly made his way towards him.

  ‘Good morning, officer. I wonder if you might be able to help me?’

  Surprised by this untidy man’s refined voice and manner, the policeman replied in a friendly but authoritative tone, ‘If I can help you, I will, but it’s not wise to be loitering about these back alleys. It tends to make people nervous, and that makes me nervous.’

  ‘Of course. I do understand, but I’m looking for an old friend … a woman by the name of Anne Carter. When she moved away from her previous address, she gave me the street and town, but forgot to write down the number of her aunt’s house … that’s where she’s staying.’

  He began to rummage in his pocket. ‘I can show you what she wrote … Roff Avenue, Bedford. I promised to visit when I was able. The thing is, her old aunt Ada doesn’t have a telephone, doesn’t like them, so I’m told.’ He gave a warm smile.

  The policeman nodded. ‘I know a lot of people who seem a bit timid of the idea. I expect they’re used to going down to the red box outside. My mother’s exactly the same … won’t even hear of a telephone in the house.’

  Still putting on a show, Carter pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, feigning a groan when he read it. ‘Oh, wrong one. Sorry, officer. It must be in my inside pocket …’ He made a big fuss of digging about in his pockets.

  The policeman accepted his story hook, line and sinker. ‘Look, I understand. I’m afraid I can’t help you, but I tell you what –’ he pointed back down the alley – ‘go back the same way you came in, and turn left. You’ll see a pub on the corner. The landlord’s always up and working, and there’s an old fella keeps the place spick and span. Like as not he might know where your friend is living, especially if there’s an old aunt, because the old ’uns do have a communal spirit round these parts.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much, officer. I was about to go and knock on a couple of doors, but I’ll have a word at the pub instead.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s the thing to do, because you won’t find her wandering about in the back alleys, will you?’

  ‘No, you’re right. I don’t suppose I will.’

  ‘The pub isn’t open yet but if you knock on the door, the landlord or his wife will be sure to hear you. Ted and Mary have lived round these parts for some time, so they know the locals better than anybody.’ The policeman gave a knowing little smile. ‘Oh, and you might even find a few old codgers playing darts in the corner, enjoying a crafty pint out of hours. They think we’re not on to them yet, but sometimes we find it wiser to look the other way … but don’t tell anyone I said that.’

  Satisfied that there was nothing to worry about here, he continued on his beat, thinking what an odd sort the stranger was. He found it hard to reconcile the fact that the man was dressed little better than a tramp, while possessing the confident, refined voice of a gentleman. It looked like he’d come on hard times. No doubt he was hoping for a few days’ lodgings and a cash handout from his old friend. The policeman did not approve of scrounging, and he thought the stranger should be ashamed, especially when it seemed there appeared to be no reason for him not to hold down a job of sorts.

  Pausing outside the public house, Edward Carter took a moment to run his fingers through his thick dark hair and briefly brush a hand over his clothes. Best make a good impression, he thought, or they might not be so ready to reveal what they know.

  The constable was right. The first thing he saw as he gingerly entered the public house was a group of aged men seated round a table in the corner. They were engrossed in a game of dominoes, and each man had a pint of brown ale before him.

  As the door closed behind him, everyone looked up to see who it was. Nobody spoke. Instead, once they had taken stock of him, they resumed their game.

  Carter slowly walked past their table. ‘Morning. Nice day.’ He nodded to each and every one, and they nodded back, curious to know who this weary-looking stranger might be.

  ‘If it’s beer you’re after, you’ll not get it here, at least not till opening time.’ The bulbous, whiskered landlord cast a wary glance to the table where the men were now paying attention. ‘Oh, and before you go making assumptions, these are friends of mine,’ he added warily, ‘a private party.’

  Carter smiled. ‘You’ve no need to worry about me. I haven’t seen a thing,’ he assured the landlord. ‘To tell the truth I’m not here for a pint, though I wouldn’t say no, especially as I’ve travelled a long journey to get here.’

  ‘I see. And what is it you want from me?’

  ‘I’m looking for someone. I jus
t thought you might be able to help. I expect you know most people round here?’

  The landlord seemed reluctant to answer. ‘Maybe I do know a few people, yes, but I’m not the sort to get caught up in gossip. From my experience, poking your nose in other folks’ business can get you in a heap o’ trouble.’

  ‘That’s all right by me, because I’m not the sort to gossip either.’ Carter was careful to choose his words. ‘The thing is, I’m searching for an old relative.’

  ‘Oh?’ The landlord remained cautious.

  Carter gave a sad little smile. ‘The thing is, when I was sixteen, things got really uncomfortable at home between my parents. Then, when they went their separate ways, Ada took me in.’

  The landlord made no response.

  Carter continued, ‘Ada had a nice, roomy house in Hampshire. I lived with her until I was twenty-one, and then I needed to get out and see the big wide world.’

  ‘Wanted to spread your wings, eh?’ The landlord was growing curious.

  ‘I suppose that was it, yes. But my relative didn’t want me to leave, so we had a bit of an argument before I left. After I’d gone, I wrote often, but she never answered. Then I was told she’d moved here to Bedford. The sad thing is, she was like a mother to me, so when I heard she was ill, I was determined to find her. I’ve always regretted us falling out.’

  He lowered his voice to a sorry murmur. ‘She’s quite old now, and I just need to put things right between us … before it’s too late. If you know what I mean?’

  Being a family man himself, the landlord approved of his motive. ‘So, if you know where she is, what’s stopping you from “putting things right” between you?’

  ‘Because after she moved, I never got her full address. All I was told, was that she’d moved to Bedford … Roff Avenue, they thought. I just arrived here this morning and a policeman suggested that I should ask you. He said you might know.’