Authors: Grace Thompson
‘But won’t it be difficult for you?’
‘We share a bed, you and I, and that’s how it will always be.’
Leaving him before the rest of the visitors departed she went into town. At the library she asked for the local newspapers, for 1949. She wasn’t sure where to start, but she had at least an hour before Carol expected her home.
She was too uncomfortable to sit and turn the large pages in their heavy folders, so she stood, glancing down each page in the hope of her eye catching a headline that was relevant. The January to June papers were almost finished when she saw, not a headline but a photograph of Matt Hewitt. The name that jumped out of the pages, beside his, was Ethel Holland.
The story beneath the photograph of the man she lived with made her feel sick, she was afraid she would faint. The print shimmered in front of her eyes, making it difficult to read, but taking deep breaths
and forcing herself to be strong, she read it right through, as well as the follow-up, in the July to December issues. Then she sat, pale-faced and distraught, staring unseeing across the hushed room.
Aware of her distress, the librarian came up and led her to the toilets where she allowed her body to make its protests in violent nausea.
She was taken into the staffroom and encouraged to sip a cup of hot tea. It was twenty minutes before she felt well enough to go home. On the librarian’s advice, she took a taxi, although she wished she could walk. After what she had read, she was in no hurry to see either Matt or his mother.
Ignoring Carol’s demands to know where she had been, longing for peace to think about what she had learned, believing Matt was still in hospital, she went to the bedroom.
Seeing Matt lying on the bed, smiling at her, she screamed and ran back out.
She had to prepare. Ignoring Carol’s demand for an explanation she repacked her suitcase ready for the hospital, adding her bank book and a few small personal items and locked it. Then she went to see Winnie but refused to explain the reason for her distress.
Under the pretence of seeing doctors and the midwife and keeping appointments at the hospital she saw a solicitor, doctors, social workers and child-care officers. She was constantly tearful but Carol believed it was the emotion of the forthcoming birth and was even more caring.
The labour pains began suddenly one morning when she was visiting Winnie and were intense. Without going back to collect her ready-packed suitcase, she went to the hospital with clothes borrowed from Winnie and what money she had in her purse. Winnie promised to collect her ready-packed suitcase for her and take it to the hospital within the hour.
The birth was painful, mainly because she was in such a distressed state. Sympathy from the kindly nurses changed to firmness in the hope that they would shock her out of her misery, but when her child was born later that night Faith turned away from her, and made it clear she would not be feeding the child.
The nurses were concerned. She had been attempting to delay the birth, trying to prevent the baby from being born, and now there was
this complete rejection. Although they coaxed in every way they could, Faith was unwilling even to get a glimpse of her daughter.
She gritted her teeth when Matt came stumping in to see her and leaned over to kiss her. ‘Soon have you back where you belong,’ he whispered. ‘They don’t keep you in for long these days, and I need you back home.’
She feigned exhaustion and turned away. He pushed her gently and talked to her but she didn’t move. The knowledge of what she had to do was shutting out every other thought. Her mind was made up, but her body craved to hold the child. She couldn’t sleep. Cries were heard during the night and she wondered whether her baby was calling for her. Several times she almost relented and began to call the nurse but she couldn’t change her mind. What she was doing was for the best for the baby.
After speaking again to the social workers and child-care workers and solicitor over the following day, forcing herself to appear calm, she signed the necessary papers. Her heart raced with misery and despair but her signatures were strong. She had to do what was right.
At the end of the second-day stay, Winnie came with fresh clothes and a few things Faith had asked for. Faith hardly said a word. Over the past week she’d had long, exhausting and difficult discussions with doctors and the relevant legal representatives and requested that her daughter be named Dorothy. She now lay exhausted, in an agony of misery but knowing she had done the right thing. The baby was not with her when Matt and Carol visited and she explained that she was in the night nursery as she had a slight infection and they weren’t allowed to see her for a few days.
As the visitors shuffled out, Faith hastily dressed in the toilets and, unnoticed, went out with them, leaving her baby behind. Her daughter must never know her father.
Matt’s fury frightened Carol when they went to the hospital and were told that Faith had walked out leaving no forwarding address. She warned him he would make himself ill if he didn’t calm down.
‘Calm down? She’s gone, left me and my baby! How can I stay calm, you stupid woman. Where is she? You must know. She must have planned it and given a clue where she was going.’
‘Something upset her, I know that, but she didn’t discuss anything with me. The room is ready for her, I’d put the cot beside your bed,
everything new and perfect.’ Carol sobbed quietly. ‘I was so looking forward to having a baby to love and care for.’
Matt put on his coat.
‘Where are you going? You should be resting your leg,’ Carol said.
‘Winnie James. She must know. Close friends they are, those two. Probably planned it together.’
Winnie was clearly surprised and alarmed when he told her Faith had disappeared and even in his anxiety and anger he could see her shock was genuine. She asked more questions than he and when he left they both promised to inform the other when they had news of Faith. Although Winnie knew it was a promise she wouldn’t keep.
Winnie received a letter from Faith the following day, posted in Dinas Powys, but it was very brief, an apology for not telling her what she had planned, and promising to tell her the reason one day. Winnie didn’t show it to Matt. Until her friend explained her actions she would avoid telling Matt anything that might help him find her.
Matt searched everywhere. He asked the neighbours, teachers and pupils at the school, the shops, people in the park. Wherever he asked, people promised to let him know if they learned something, although many – like Winnie – quickly decided they would not. There had to be a good reason for Faith to walk away from the baby and without telling anyone. Winnie thought of the remarks made by the woman in the café and wondered if Faith had learned something that had upset her. She didn’t mention this to Matt. She would say nothing until she had spoken to her friend. Surely she would get in touch with her?
When Carol and Matt went to the hospital to arrange for the baby to come home, there was worse news than the disappearance of Faith. She had registered the baby but not in Matt’s name. The authorities had been told the child was the result of a previous
relationship
and was nothing to do with him.
There were more enquiries, both at the hospital and at the police station, but to no avail. Confidentiality had been assured, specially when the authorities checked on Matt’s background.
It wasn’t long before the disappearance of Faith led to the story from 1949 being revived. Matt and Carol were interviewed by social workers and the police, and they blamed Faith. Anxiety was tinged with anger at the trouble and embarrassment her disappearance had
caused. The police explained that if they should find Faith, they had no reason to persuade her to come back.
‘We believe she left on a bus, which took her to Dinas Powys, where she posted a letter to her friend Winnie, but which didn’t explain her absence. Several people saw her up to the time she boarded the Dinas Powys bus, but we haven’t yet learned where she went from there.’ He stared at Matt. ‘A quarrel, maybe?’
‘No, there’s nothing.’ He patted his plastered leg. ‘I was just home from hospital.’
‘Perhaps you’ll think of something, sir. It’s rare for a mother to walk away from her baby without a reason or at least an
explanation
. But as far as we know, we think it unlikely there was a sinister reason for her disappearance. It was all carefully planned.’
Matt locked himself in his workshop and concentrated on fulfilling his orders. At first his fingers were careless, but then he calmed down and did his best work, trying to lose his frustration and ease the pain.
Unencumbered by heavy luggage, Faith had walked a little way, then got on a bus. She stopped at Dinas Powys to post cards to Mrs Porter and Winnie, then went on to Cardiff. She was tired and filled with the desire to cry. Forcing herself to hold back from giving in to her grief she stayed fairly calm until she was on the train back to Barry. Then tears ran down her cheeks and she hid them behind a magazine she had bought. If any one noticed, no one asked what was the matter and she was grateful for that. She had booked into a hotel on the seafront, a short walk from the station and she went straight to her room.
She planned to stay there for a few days to recuperate, after which she hoped to start working for a Mrs Rebecca Thomas, in the role of housekeeper and companion. She had only spoken to the lady on the telephone, arranging for a week’s trial on both sides, but felt hopeful of being accepted once they had met and her qualifications had been examined. For now, all she wanted was to cry until she fell asleep.
Breakfast at the hotel was served in a small dining room where four tables were set with white cloths and gleaming cutlery and glasses. She wasn’t hungry but knew she ought to eat something. She was still weak after the birth. Several people came in and greeted each other, obviously regulars or even permanent guests. A man about her own age came in, carrying a large briefcase. Each table was occupied
by at least one person and he came across and asked if he could join her.
‘If you’re sure you don’t mind?’ he said. She gestured to the chair across from her and he put his briefcase on the window ledge. ‘Thanks. You’ve saved me from working through the meal, a very bad habit. Much nicer to talk.’ Faith didn’t reply. She didn’t want to talk to a stranger, she was too near to tears for that.
He seemed aware of her reluctance without anything being said and, apart from a smile as he accepted bread from the plate she passed, he stared through the window. When he stood to leave, he said, ‘If you’re a stranger here, you’ll find the town a pleasant one. A walk along the front is relaxing, and the town has all you might need.’
Ashamed of her rudeness she smiled and thanked him. Unable to explain, she said, ‘I’ll enjoy exploring.’
‘Good luck,’ he said, adding. ‘I’m Ian Day.’ To which she didn’t reply, but just offered the faintest of smiles in return.
He stood searching in his pockets, presumably for car keys, and she was able to study him. He had a boyish look, blue eyes with a disconcertingly curious stare, his fair hair was straight and shorter than most wore it. He was about six feet tall and walked upright, proud of his height. Shoulders back, he strode out of the room with a confident air, waving to a few guests as he passed them. Ex-Army perhaps, she wondered?
He stopped at the entrance and from his over-stuffed briefcase took out two folders. She watched curiously, trying to guess what his occupation might be. Then she pushed thoughts of him aside. This was a hotel and she was staying only two more nights, so it was unlikely she would see him again.
Out of season, Barry was still a busy town. New houses were being built and the population was growing, but she knew that during the summer months the place would be crowded with holidaymakers and day-trippers, all intent on having fun. It was the last place Matt would expect to find her, a perfect place in which to hide, filled with strangers and large enough for her not to be noticed, specially after today, when she planned a visit to a hairdresser to have her long hair cut into a short, face-hugging style.
After having her hair cut she walked along the promenade. It was February but the air was still redolent with the remembered smells of
summer. Rows of shops, closed now but promising tasty treats, from fish-and-chip meals to joky sweets made of seaside rock; others offered gifts and postcards showing views or saucy pictures. But that was all in the future. Today, in February, the area was quiet, her
footsteps
sounding unnaturally loud in the calm air, punctuated occasionally by the sad wailing calls of the gulls.
The man called Ian Day was there again the following morning. He came and sat down with his head tilted in a silent request. This time she smiled and said, ‘Please, join me if you wish.’
‘I wish,’ he said cheerfully. ‘My, you look different. What happened to your long curls?’
‘It was time for a change,’ she said, and her voice discouraged further comment.
‘Have you seen much of the town yet?’ he asked as their meal was placed in front of them.
‘A little. I spent yesterday walking around the local beaches and later the town.’ She didn’t tell him that she had lived there for months or that she had bought a surprising amount of clothing. Having left everything behind apart from what she had crammed into her small suitcase she had needed replenishments. She had bought what was necessary to prepare herself for the job that awaited her on the following day.
Ian went home thinking about the brief encounter. She was deeply unhappy, that much was obvious. He had recognized another victim like himself and wondered whether a broken romance was the reason she was sad too. His mother, Vivienne opened the door to allow the delicious smell of cooking to escape.
‘What’s wrong, dear?’ she asked, seeing his serious expression as she placed the plates on the table.
‘Nothing really, it’s just that I’ve been feeling sad and today I
realized
I’m not the only one to have had a disappointment.’ He told her about the unhappy woman he had met earlier. ‘Another romance gone wrong, I’m sure of it.’