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‘I know it’s not my place to ask,’ Phil went on in a more serious tone, ‘but, what’s your dad got against you climbing trees?’
Adam shrugged. ‘He says it’s undignified.’
‘I see.’ In fact, he didn’t see at all.
Deep in conversation, they were startled and delighted when a deer shot across their path. A few steps on, and Phil resumed their conversation.
‘Do you know what I’d do, if ever I had loads of money?’
‘No.’
‘I don’t expect I ever will have loads of money, but if I did, I’d build myself the prettiest little cottage right in the middle of these ’ere woods. And I’d be sure to make friends with every animal that lived here.’
Adam laughed. ‘You’d be like the old man in the story.’
‘Oh, and what story is that?’
‘It’s a mystery I once read, about a man who lived in an old shed in the woods. He cut his own logs for the fire, and everything he ate came out of the woods. Sometimes he would even sleep in the forest with the animals, and they never once hurt him.’
‘Ah, well, there you go, then. He sounds like a man after my own heart. So, how long did he live like that?’
‘A long time … years! Then one day he just disappeared, and was never seen again.’
‘Hmmph!’ Stooping to collect a fallen branch, Phil threw it into the verge. ‘So nobody knows what happened to him, eh?’
‘No. The story tells how one day he was seen collecting mushrooms; then he was never seen again. Some of the villagers were worried he might be ill, so they went to check the shed where he lived, but though the old man was gone, all his belongings were still there.’
‘Sounds too spooky for me.’ Phil was intrigued. ‘But what do you think happened to him?’
‘Well … I think maybe he got really sick and he knew he wouldn’t get better, so he crept away where no one would ever find him. Just like the Indians of old used to do.’
Phil thought about that. ‘Well, if that’s the case, he’s a very lucky man. Not many people get to choose how they live their lives, and then decide where to end them.’
There followed a short silence as they each dwelled on the fate of the mystery man.
‘Phil?’ The boy softly broke the silence.
‘Yes, son?’
‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to choose what I want to do with my life.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because my father has my future all planned out.’
‘Has he now?’ Phil prompted him. ‘And you think that’s a bad thing, do you?’
‘He says I’m his only son and that he’s decided there will be no more children,’ Adam explained. ‘So it’s my duty to follow in his footsteps.’
‘No more children, eh?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘And are you sure you don’t want to follow in his footsteps?’
‘Yes, I’m sure, but when I try and tell him, he gets really angry.’
He was careful not to reveal how his father often took a belt to him; that one time he split the skin on his back and forbade his mother to take him to hospital.
‘Have you spoken to your mother about not wanting to follow in your dad’s footsteps?’
‘Yes, but Mum said it’s best if I do what Father says.’ He paused before confiding in a quieter voice, ‘Sometimes if I disobey him, he takes it out on her. That’s cowardly, isn’t it, Phil?’
‘I’m sorry, son, but without knowing all the circumstances, it would not be right for me to comment on that,’ Phil apologised, although his mental picture of the boy’s father was now deeply unsettling.
Thinking it might be wise to change the subject, he asked, ‘So if you’re not allowed to climb trees, what do you do when you’re out with your mates?’
‘I don’t have any mates.’
‘Oh? And why’s that then?’
‘Father says I must not waste my time. He says that if I’ve got any spare time after school, I must use it for doing extra studies, because I’ll never make anything of myself if I don’t study.’
He cast his gaze to the floor. ‘Can I tell you something, Phil?’
‘Course you can, son.’
‘I don’t like him very much. He makes me study all the time, and I’m never allowed to do anything else. I would like to have close mates that I could bring home and play with. But Father keeps me too busy for that.’
‘I’m sure your father thinks it’s all for your own good.’
‘I know, but he asks too much of me, and he has such a terrible temper, and if I get the questions wrong, he makes me do them all over again. Sometimes it’s midnight and he still won’t let me go. Mum argues with him and then … he … he …’ his voice tailed off to a whisper. ‘Sometimes, I really hate him.’
Saddened by what Adam had told him, Phil made him a promise. ‘Always remember, son, if ever you feel the need to talk, I’ll be here for you.’ Not being witness to what happened in that house, Phil believed it was wrong of him to criticise. Instead, he quietly reassured the boy, ‘I expect he has your interests at heart, but you obviously believe he’s going about it the wrong way, so all you can do is to keep explaining how you feel.’
‘I’ve made up my mind, I don’t ever want to be like him!’ A dark look crossed his face.
‘Well, I’m sure that’s your choice, Adam, but your father has made a success of his own life and, from what you tell me, it seems he wants the same for you.’
‘I know that.’ Looking ahead towards the house, the boy grew agitated. ‘But he’s not a good man. Sometimes he’s really nasty. He doesn’t laugh, and when he gets angry he shouts and screams. Mum tells me not to rile him, or he might …’
‘Might what?’ Phil could see the child was getting agitated. ‘Apart from the shouting and wanting you to work harder, is there something else that’s worrying you, son?’
‘NO! No, there’s nothing else.’ Fearing he might have said too much already, Adam finished lamely, ‘Me and Mum, we just do what he tells us, and then everything is fine.’
‘Well, just remember what I said, Adam. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.’ Phil brought the subject to an end: ‘I’ve an idea that you and your father will work it out, eventually.’ Even so, he was genuinely concerned by what the boy had told him.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Adam said after a few moments’ silence.
‘Of course you can!’ Chuckling, Phil lightened the mood. ‘Unless you’re after borrowing a shilling or two, because you know what they say: “Never a borrower nor a lender be”, and that’s the rule I live by.’
When he saw Adam’s face fall, he laughed out loud. ‘Take no notice of me,’ he said, ‘I’m just teasing. So, what is it you want to ask?’
Casting a wary glance along the lane, Adam quietly confided, ‘Could you please not tell anybody what I’ve said, about my father?’ Again, he nervously glanced down the lane towards his house.
‘Don’t worry, son. I’ve never been a gossip, and I can assure you that what’s been said here today will not go any further. All right?’
‘Thank you, Phil. Maybe you’re right. My father doesn’t mean to be like he is. It’s only because he works such long hours and he has such a responsible job, he just gets on edge sometimes.’
‘I understand that, son, but if you don’t mind me saying, what suits one man doesn’t always suit another. A man should be able to choose his own path. But you’re not yet a man, and maybe your father is looking out for your future. D’you understand what I’m saying?’
‘Yes, but I don’t want to be bad-tempered and angry like my father. I want to do something that makes me happy.’ Growing increasingly nervous, Adam dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Already my father is training me into his kind of work.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Well, nearly every night he brings home a pile of paperwork and makes me go through it with him. It’s all calculations of stocks and shares and money transactions. I don’t understand any of it, not really, but sometimes he keeps me at his desk for ages, making me do tests and stuff. He says he’s proud for me to follow in his footsteps. He wants me to learn all about high finance and dealing and stuff. And I hate it!’
Phil understood the boy’s concern. ‘Do you ever get any time to yourself?’
Adam’s face lit up. ‘Only when Father comes home really late, or stays in London overnight on business. That’s when Mum and I have the best time of all, doing the things Father disapproves of. We play card games. Mum keeps the cards in a special hiding place. And sometimes we play loud music on the radio and Mum shows me how to tango and rumba and all that.’
His face broke into a proud smile. ‘She was a champion ballroom dancer once. She won all sorts of trophies and she’s got photographs of her in these beautiful gowns. She said Father asked her to give it all up when they got married, so she gave her dresses away and never danced again. She kept all her photographs and trophies, but Father locked them away. She knows where the key is, though, and when he’s not here, she gets them all out.’
Growing afraid in case anyone was listening, he lowered his voice again. ‘He doesn’t know that Mum searched everywhere for the key. She found it under the carpet in their bedroom. When he’s not here, she sets all her trophies out on the sideboard, and then she teaches me to dance. Oh, Phil, she looks so beautiful. It’s not fair. Why would Father lock away all her precious things like that?’
Phil was shocked. ‘I’m sure I have no idea, son.’
Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Phil led the conversation in a slightly different direction: ‘So, would your mum ever want to dance in public again, do you think?’
Adam nodded. ‘Oh, yes! She says she’s still young enough to take it up again. She even mentioned it to Father, but he said if she ever spoke of it again he would have to destroy everything, so she couldn’t ever be tempted. I don’t think she will ever dance again, though.’ Glancing up at Phil, he smiled. ‘Not in public, anyway.’
Phil was beginning to see a much wider picture of this family, and it was not good. ‘Mmm, well, all I can say is, it’s a pity your father has to work such long hours. But it’s good that you and your mum get to spend that time together, isn’t it?’
Adam nodded. ‘It’s really nice when Father isn’t there. Sometimes, me and Mum go across the fields for miles and miles. We stay out for ages. Then on the way back, we get fish and chips, and sit on a park bench to eat them. That way we don’t make the house smell, because then Father would know what we’ve been up to.’ Breathless and excited, he went on, ‘Oh, and sometimes we go to the pictures.’ His face lit up. ‘Last Saturday we went to see a cowboy film.’
Allowing the boy to chatter on excitedly, Phil instinctively eased him round a muddy puddle.
‘Do you have a pet? A little dog, mebbe?’
‘No. One time, Mum bought me a tabby cat, but it got run over. His name was Thomas and I really loved him. I taught him to do little tricks and he followed me everywhere, though Father would chase him out if he went into the house.’
Phil chuckled. ‘I had a cat like that once. Up to everything, he was.’
‘Thomas was the cleverest cat I ever knew,’ Adam confided proudly. ‘I cried a lot when he was run over. Father said I was a big baby and I should be ashamed of myself. And now I’m not allowed to have a pet ever again.’
‘He got run over, you say?’ That surprised Phil because, in his experience, most cats would head for the woods rather than risk going over a main road. ‘That’s a real shame. How did you find out?’
‘Father told us that he found Thomas in the woods, and that he was hurt so bad that he died, so he buried him where he found him. I wanted to go and say goodbye, but Father wouldn’t tell me where he was. He said that way I would get over him much quicker.’
‘Oh dear, that’s really sad. I’m so sorry.’ Having learned a good deal about Adam’s bullying father, Phil could not help but wonder about the cat’s demise.
He had an idea. ‘Look, Adam, being as it’s such a lovely afternoon, I’ll be taking my little dog for a walk through these lanes before it gets dark. You could ask your parents if you can tag along. What d’you say to that, eh?’
Adam shook his head. ‘I’m not allowed.’
‘Oh, but it doesn’t hurt to ask, does it? You never know. My old dad used to say, “If you don’t ask, you don’t get.”’
Adam shook his head. ‘Father won’t let me, but thank you anyway, Phil.’
‘Ah, well, never mind, eh? Mebbe another time.’
‘Yes, I would really like that.’
A few moments later they arrived at the house: a fine Victorian dwelling with tall chimneys, large windows and a sweeping drive. Set in beautifully landscaped grounds, it made an impressive sight. ‘I’ll be fine now, Phil, thank you.’
‘All right, son. I’ll just watch you go inside the gate, then I’ll make my way home.’ 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!’
