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 I’m saying, if you can.’
When he felt her hand twitch beneath his, he took it as a sign that he was getting through to her. ‘Mrs Carter, listen to me … the ambulance has been called. They’re on their way. It seems you fell down the stairs. You’ve been hurt bad, but they’ll look after you. Don’t try to move; it’s best if you keep as still as possible.’ Though, in her sorry condition, he doubted whether she could move even if she tried.
At that moment, Adam came running back. ‘They’ll be here quick as they can. They said we’re to keep talking to her, and not to move her.’
Falling to his knees, he tenderly stroked his mother’s hair. ‘How did it happen, Mum? Can you hear me? Mum! Was it him who did this to you? Did he lose his temper again? Please, Mum, tell me what happened?’
Phil eased him away. ‘No, son. That’s not the way. For now, your mother needs gentle, encouraging words. I’m sure there’ll be time for questions later.’
Adam understood. ‘I’m sorry. She won’t tell, but I will. If they ask me, I’ll tell them how cruel he is.’
Crouching on the carpet, he kept his anxious gaze on his mother’s distorted face.
‘The ambulance should be here soon, Mum,’ he reassured her. ‘They said we had to keep talking to you. Me and Phil … we want you to listen, Mum. We want you to be all right, because if you aren’t all right I won’t know what to do. Please, Mum, try your very hardest. Just like you tell me to do, when I find my homework too difficult.’
Choking back his tears, he cast a forlorn look at Phil. ‘She will be all right, won’t she, Phil?’
‘We have to hope so, son.’ Realising that Peggy Carter’s life hung in the balance, Phil softly measured his words. ‘You can see for yourself. Your mother is badly hurt and there’s no use pretending otherwise, but she’s alive, and we need to be thankful for that. So, keep talking to her. If she can hear you, I’m sure she’ll do her utmost to stay with you.’
For the next few precious minutes, Adam continued to talk to his mother, about school, and how his day had been, but all the while his heart was heavy with fear for his mother and loathing of his father. He recalled the many times when he himself had been thrashed; for no other reason than he had missed a question in his homework, or his father demanded more of him than he could give, which was more often than not.
Other times, when he was in the study, struggling over the homework his father had set, he would hear his parents loudly arguing in the parlour. Often the arguments were followed by the swish of his father’s horse-whip, then his mother crying out in pain.
Minutes later his father, red-faced with anger, would storm out of the house. When Adam ran to his mother, she would quickly dry her eyes and reassure him that everything was all right, but it was not all right, and they both knew it.
In spite of her efforts to hide the bruises, Adam knew the truth. His father was a bully and a coward. This time, though, he had hurt her really badly, although she would not tell on him. She never did.
In that raw moment, Adam made himself a promise: that when he was old enough, and however long it took him, he would make his father pay.
Seeing her like this was all too much. ‘You won’t admit it, but I know he did this to you.’ His voice trembled. ‘One day, when I’m bigger, I’ll punish him, I will. You’ll see … I’ll make him pay for everything!’ He tried not to cry, but the sobs took hold of him and he couldn’t stop. ‘I hate him! I hate him!’
Deep inside, Peggy heard Adam’s angry words, and she feared for her child. Everything he said was true, but she could not let him be destroyed by the hatred he felt for his father.
With immense effort, and mustering every ounce of strength left in her, she whispered, ‘No …’ Her eyes flickered open to gaze on him lovingly. ‘Don’t … say that.’ Having made this huge effort she was now struggling to breathe.
Seeing this, Adam reluctantly gave his promise. ‘All right … ssh, Mum. Stay still. I won’t say it any more. I’m sorry, Mum.’ Ever so gently,