Getting out of the chair, he thought he'd better fix that curtain rail, before going to the pub.

Going through the hallway to collect the shed key from the kitchen, he paused by the wall mirror to flex his muscles. 'You've still got it, my boy!' He smiled. 'Oh, yes! You've still got it!'

A few minutes later, he went out of the back door and down the garden to his little tool shed. Glancing around at the many shelves, overflowing with bric-a-brac, he groaned. One of these weekends he'd have to spend a few hours staightening all this lot out. Jeez! It was like a junk shop.

He raked the shelves with his eyes. Some of the stuff had been here since they'd moved in.

He searched the bottom shelf for the big black toolbox, but it was nowhere to be found. Then he looked up and spotted it on the top shelf, sitting awkwardly beside an old packing case. He decided he could just reach it without fetching the ladder from the garage.

Finding it more difficult than he'd first thought, he tugged harder at the toolbox. 'Come on, dammit!' Something appeared to be holding it back.

One more huge tug and he had it almost free, but when he finally slid the toolbox out, the packing case tumbled out with it.

Cursing, he collected the case to replace it on the top shelf, but the lid flapped open, revealing a number of items from the time before he was married.

Intrigued, he followed his instinct to have a little rummage in the old case, which in the event, turned out to be greatly nostalgic. There was a mult.i.tude of memorabilia from his past, and some precious items he had thought were gone for ever.

There was his old fishing rod; his brown football boots, all cracked and dirty, and stiff as planks after years of being in the damp. There was a pack of cards and a set of darts from the carefree days when he was a young man, with a young man's wayward habits.

It was like his early life was unfolding right before his eyes.

With most of the contents now laid out on top of a wooden box, he dug deeper. He drew out an old football, now sagging and past use.

A moment later, his fingers gripped what felt like a book.

As he drew it out, he did not instantly recognise what it was. At first glance, it looked to be a brown leather ledger. It was only when he blew away the dust that he realised it was an old photograph alb.u.m.

The photographs were mostly damaged, with bent corners and cracks; also the damp had badly marred the initial one or two.

There was a lovely photograph of his parents, the original of which was framed and standing proud on the sideboard inside the house.

Alongside that photograph was the last photo of his mother, before she pa.s.sed on.

When Mick's father was killed in an explosion at work, his mother lost the will to live. After a difficult year, she too was gone. People understood that her grief was too hard for her to bear, especially as the two of them had been inseparable since their schooldays, and were absolutely devoted to each other.

Mick had the smaller print of his mother's photograph in his wallet, but now, when he held the original in his hand, he felt too emotional for words.

Quickly, he began flicking through the alb.u.m, eager to put it safely away.

As he folded it shut, he saw the corner of what appeared to be a torn photograph, jutting out from between the top of two pages stuck together.

Curious, he eased the photograph out, and was riveted by what he saw.

The photograph was partly damaged at the corners, but he instantly recognised it, and it took him back to the days when he was in his twenties.

The photo was of himself, and a girl. Mick remembered her vividly: small-built, with dainty features and wild, curly hair. She had the softest eyes, and a pretty smile, like sunshine on a cloudy day.

He was shocked. 'Good grief!' He laughed out loud. 'Peggy Farraday ... the girl I nearly married!'

Mesmerised, he took the photograph over to the door, all the better to see it. Leaning against the doorjamb, he cast his eyes over the girl in the picture. Southend! He remembered it like it was yesterday. They'd been going together for only a few days and had decided on a day out in Southend, with a couple of friends.

He relived the day in his mind.

It was raining, but they were having so much fun, they didn't want to go home. So, after the other two had gone, he and his girl found a telephone box and rang their parents to tell them they were staying over with their mates, although they'd already gone back, after promising not to say anything.

All they could afford between them was an overnight room at a tatty old boarding house. And all because Mick had spent the best part of his money on a silver locket she'd seen and loved.

He couldn't help but smile at the memory and the way it had turned out, and now he was laughing out loud. He recalled how the curtains were paper-thin, and the springs in the bed creaked and groaned, but they hadn't cared a jot.

Now, the laughter died away and his mood grew serious. He had dated a number of girls, but Peggy had been his first real love.

With his finger he traced her small, pretty face, now looking up at him from the photograph. Up to that night she hadn't even let him touch her in that certain way, but once they got into bed, she was amazing ... In fact, when it got to four in the morning, he hadn't given a d.a.m.n whether he got any sleep or not.'

For a while he sat remembering how it was.

It was strange, though, how Fate took you one way and then the other. He looked down again on Peggy's smiling face. They might have gone on to be regular sweethearts and ended up getting married, but they kind of drifted apart after that weekend.

He tried to recall the exact date. That weekend in Southend ... Must have been, what, going on for fourteen years now.

He took a moment to gaze at the photograph. It wasn't meant to be ... but if the rumours were right, she'd got herself a good catch some bloke with his own business. As for Mick, he'd found the loveliest girl ... name of Sally. And he considered himself to be a very lucky man.

Thinking of Sally put a smile on his face. If Peggy and her man were as happy as he and Sally, she wouldn't go far wrong, he thought.

Quickly now, he folded his old life back into the packing case.

He had no reason not to keep the photograph, so he packed it away with everything else.

He replaced the case on the top shelf, collected his tools and returned to the house, a smile on his face. Who'd have thought it, eh? A real jolt from the past ...

Then he made a start on the curtain rail, keen to please Sally. Anything to make her happy.

It took him all of twenty minutes to fix the curtain rail. Afterwards, he stood back to view his handiwork, thinking he'd earned a pint and a catch-up with his mates. He gave a cheeky little grin. There was nothing like a chat and a laugh with your old mates to make a man feel worthy.

Even as he climbed the stairs to get himself ready, the romance from the past was already gone from his mind.

CHAPTER TEN.

MISS MARTIN LISTENED intently, while the officer explained, 'We've held on to these personal items for too long. They were pa.s.sed to us by the new tenants of the Carters' former home. We quite overlooked them and have no legal reason to keep them now.'

Miss Martin was curious. 'But I understood the Carter case was not yet closed. I was of the opinion that because there were no witnesses to the event, and also a certain lack of evidence from the parties involved, it was never actually proved that Edward Carter had caused his wife's death. Indeed, according to the newspaper reports, his wife never once claimed that he was responsible for the injuries that killed her. Surely, if he had caused her death, she would have said so, don't you think?'

'It's not for me to say, but your observations are correct. You would be surprised, however, to know that in matters such as these, nothing is ever black and white. For my part, all I can do is to apologise for the length of time we've retained these personal possessions.'

'Oh, well, at least they're here now, and Adam will be relieved to have some things of his mother's, I'm sure.'

'Of course, and like I say, I only wish they were returned earlier. It's only now, with Peggy Carter laid to her rest, and Edward Carter sentenced, that we thought to return these files and properties. Having said that, and even though he's proven to be a very dangerous and violent man, we're still not fully satisfied.'

'In what way?'

'I'm afraid all I can say is that we discovered certain doc.u.ments hidden away amongst old papers that we removed from the house. We suspect there has been another breach of the law, which if proven, could lengthen Carter's sentence quite considerably.'

'What kind of doc.u.ments?'

The officer gave himself a mental warning. He had a weakness for being drawn in too far. 'I'm sorry, but I am not authorised to discuss that.'

'Well, whatever it is, I'm sure I don't need to know. All I'm concerned about is placing young Adam with a good family.'

Miss Martin was slightly miffed that the officer had cut short the conversation, just when it caught her imagination.

Ready to see him away, she stood up. 'I'm sorry, but if there is nothing else, I'm shortly expecting to receive a family, who might be the right one for the boy.'

'Everything personal to Adam is in that box,' he a.s.sured her, producing an official paper, which she duly signed as temporary guardian.

Miss Martin extended her hand. 'Well, thank you for returning these, officer. I do hope that whatever is in here will bring some kind of closure to Adam.'

'Yes, I imagine it will. These items eventually proved to be of small significance to us, but to Adam, they are part of his mother's belongings.'

'So, there's nothing in here that belonged to his father, is there? Only, I'm not sure he-'

The officer sensed her concerns. 'No. In the light of ongoing enquiries, we have duly retained certain items particular to Edward Carter. Which will in the course of time be returned.'

With that, he shook her hand, bade her goodbye, and left.

On leaving the office, he recognised Adam, seated forlornly on the bench by Miss Martin's office. He greeted the boy, who nodded slightly, but seemed to be miles away in his thoughts.

Once outside, the officer stood a moment, thinking of what that young boy had gone through: no home of his own; his mother lying in the churchyard; and his father jailed for a great number of years. Added to which it had transpired that he had only two distant relatives, neither of which had a yearning to take on a troubled young boy. He hoped that by the time Carter was released, the boy would be a full-grown man. If the police successfully managed to uncover his suspected other illegal activities, this seemed highly likely.

A moment or so later, Miss Martin came out of her office and ushered Adam inside. 'We've got a while yet before the family arrive,' she informed him excitedly, 'but in the meantime, I have something for you. Sit down, Adam, please. Sit down opposite me.'

When he was sitting, she informed him, 'The gentleman you probably saw leaving just now was from the police.' Concerned when she saw him press nervously back into his chair, she quickly a.s.sured him, 'There is nothing wrong, Adam. He just came to return something that belongs to you.'

Adam was surprised. 'Something that belongs ... to me?'

'Yes, Adam. This box and everything in it belongs to you, Adam. That's why the officer was here. The police have no further use for this, and so he's brought it here for you.'

'Is it my mother's stuff?'

'Possibly, I don't know. It is not for me to pry into your belongings, Adam. But, he did say there are certain items that might belong to you, and maybe some of your mother's things ... I have no idea. That's for you to discover.'

Choking back tears, he asked brokenly, 'Can I see it, please, Miss Martin?'

'But of course!' She got out of her seat and gently inched the box forwards until it was within reach. 'Would you like me to leave you alone for a while?'

Adam shook his head.

'So, you want me to stay here, with you?'

'Yes, please.'

'Very well.'

She sat down with a b.u.mp. 'Remember, these belong to you, Adam. They're yours to keep.' She added wisely, 'You understand, it may not be good for you to keep it all in the dormitory, but I have a big enough safe here, in this office. I can keep anything precious here, locked away, and of course you may ask to see it any time.'

'Thank you, Miss Martin.' His fingers played on the box lid. 'Can I open it now?'

'But of course! That's why I called you in.'

She asked again just to be sure, 'Are you certain you wouldn't prefer to open the box without me here?'

'No, miss. I'd like you to stay with me ... please?'

'Of course.'

A moment later, she watched as he tore back the sealing tape and opened the lid.

One by one, he removed the items. There was a diary, beautifully written, seemingly in the delicate, sweeping hand of his mother. Thinking it might be too personal, he put that aside for the moment.

There was his father's old bunch of keys, which he recognised but did not want to touch. Gingerly sweeping them into a corner of the box, he continued to dig down.

He found all manner of things he had never seen before: a small rag doll with one eye; a tray of jewellery, which he tenderly put aside while he continued to empty the box. Then there were a number of items from his own bedroom: a pile of Beano comics; his school books, and a tied-up roll of posters.

There were other miscellaneous items, some of which he had occasionally seen and others he had never seen before, such as a pile of doc.u.ments and letters, neatly rolled and labelled.

Alongside these were his mother's handbag and purse containing little of any significance.

When the box was emptied and all items laid across the desk, Adam began to cry ... softly at first. Then he was shaking, seared with pain.

He realised how the remains of his old life and that of his mother were now reduced to empty, useless things that only served to hurt him all the more.

Then he felt Miss Martin's chubby arms about him, and he nestled into them. For a while neither of them spoke. Until Adam told her, 'Can you please lock it away?'

'Yes, Adam. I can do that for you. But is there nothing at all that you might like to keep in your own locker?'

He shook his head.

'But you haven't even looked at your mother's jewellery. Maybe you could take one very small thing?'

She understood his pain, but sometimes having some small thing that had been close to the one you love and miss, did actually help. Sadly, she reflected, she knew that more than most, as her fingers now went to the little trinket around her neck.

'I'm sure your mother wouldn't mind. What do you think, Adam?'