Time had moved on, and life had taken his childhood.

He had lost not only his darling mother, but, with her, the only real and true love he had ever known. Nothing on earth would ever replace that.

It was time to face up to the harsh truth. From now on, he must take responsibility for himself. It would not be easy, he realised, but he would learn, because life itself, with all its trials, joys and impossible journeys, was the best teacher of all. Like it or not, he was already on the longest journey.

At this moment, in this place, he had no idea where the journey might take him.

It was a daunting thought.

PART FIVE.

The Girl.

1959.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

PHIL HAD MADE this journey many times when Adam was living at the children's home, but this time he was angry, and deeply worried.

Miss Martin had grown to know Phil very well since Adam had gone missing, some months back. 'h.e.l.lo, Phil. Come inside,' she greeted him. She led him down the hall to her office, talking as she went. 'I'm afraid there is still nothing to report.'

After ordering tea and biscuits from the kitchen, she told Phil, with much regret, 'Although the police have not been able to find him, they do a.s.sure me that they're still on the case.'

Phil had heard it all before. 'That's not good enough.'

Dipping into his pocket, he slid the letter across the desk. 'That one arrived this very morning. It's the fifth letter I've had in these past months, and they're all stamped from different parts of the country. And still they haven't been able to trace Adam. Why is that? Tell me ... have they given up on him?'

Miss Martin was adamant. 'Dear me, no, Phil! The boy is not yet fifteen. It's their bounden duty to find him, and they will. They have traced the letters as far as they can, but still no sight of Adam. We just have to be patient.'

'So what do we do?'

'There is very little to be done, except to let the police get on with it,' she answered sadly. 'I know it's frustrating, but sooner or later they will find him. You mark my words.'

'I'm worried about him.' Phil had suffered many sleepless nights since Adam had been gone. 'In the letters he tells me he's well, and that I'm not to worry, but how can I not worry? He says nothing about how he lives, or where he gets his money from. Or what kind of work he might be taking on. And what kind of people would take him on, anyway? He's just a boy. I can't even write back to him because he never gives me a return address.'

Growing emotional, he could hardly keep his voice steady. 'To tell the truth, I'm at my wits' end.' Dropping his sorry gaze to the floor, he gave a long, drawn-out sigh. 'Oh, dear lady, why doesn't he come home?'

Miss Martin gave a sympathetic little smile. 'I'm sorry, Phil, I can't answer that question. But for now, we must be content that he's keeping in touch. At least we know he must be safe. Isn't that so?'

Phil nodded his head, but he was too choked up to speak.

Just then the a.s.sistant arrived with tea and biscuits.

Miss Martin thanked her, and the woman quickly departed.

Phil grew unusually quiet, his mind heavy with troubling thoughts.

Liz had only recently entrusted him with the information concerning the stolen locket and the ensuing discovery of its contents, which Phil so wanted to share the amazing news with Miss Martin. But he realised how strongly Liz and Jim felt about not releasing the information to anyone else.

They had rightly argued that it was Adam's private business and no one else's for the time being. They pointed out, quite rightly, that Michael Slater was a complete stranger, and that Adam might not even want to know him. Also, it was painfully clear that this man had not stood by Adam's mother when she needed him, or he would have been with her and Adam from the start. So, the question remained, what kind of man would desert a woman who was carrying his child?

With that in mind, Liz and Jim were adamant that it was for Adam to decide whether he wanted this man in his life, or not.

Phil himself was undecided as to the best way forward; although his every instinct urged him to discuss the issue with Miss Martin. After all, she seemed a wise and kindly woman, who Adam liked and respected. Moreover, she had many contacts, and she had a canny way of getting to the bottom of things.

Phil's deep thoughts were interrupted by Miss Martin's kindly voice. 'Are you all right?' She smiled at him across the desk. 'You seem to be miles away in your thoughts.'

'I'm sorry,' he answered lamely, 'it's just that I'm so worried about Adam.'

'I understand that, but I can't help feeling that you have something else on your mind.'

Phil confessed, 'You're right. I do find myself in a sort of dilemma, and I'm not sure which way to go.'

'Is it something I can help you with?'

'I'm sure you could, but I believe I'm not at liberty to confide in you.'

'Really?' She was both curious and concerned. 'And why might that be?'

Phil was hesitant. 'I wonder ... if I was to share something with you ... something very private and a little difficult, d'you think you could be discreet?'

She smiled. 'People do say that I'm the soul of discretion. Yes, you can rely on me, I promise. I can see that you're deeply troubled about something or other, and in my experience a niggling problem is always better out than in. So, if you want to share the burden, I can just listen. Or, if you want, I can maybe give advice.' She gave a little knowing smile. 'Or I can do absolutely nothing ... if that's what you want.'

Miss Martin was n.o.body's fool. She had come to know and like Phil, and she could see he was deeply troubled. 'If you're concerned about me gossiping, have no fear. Whatever confidence you share with me, will never go beyond these four walls.'

Phil believed her, but still he agonised with his conscience. He desperately needed to confide in this dear soul; to tell her of the exciting discovery regarding the locket and the note within it.

Suddenly he was confiding the knowledge he had learned from Liz and Jim. And when he was finished, he shook his head despondently. 'I should never have told.' He felt guilty, and yet curiously relieved.

Growing hopeful, he dared to ask, 'So, will you help us then?'

'Yes, but firstly, I think you must speak with Liz and Jim. I will help, of course I will, and they must remain determined in their efforts to find Adam. However, if he does return, you should persuade them not to tell Adam of their new-found knowledge regarding his father; at least, not until we can substantiate it. Conversely, once Michael Slater is located, then of course Adam should be made aware that he may have a father whom he knew nothing about.'

Phil was in full agreement as she outlined her terms. 'There are too many unknown issues here that must be dealt with before Adam is brought into the equation,' she went on. 'Firstly, it might take months, even years, to track him down. Secondly, suppose it turns out that this man is not Adam's blood father? Thirdly, even if he is, it does not follow that he would want to take on a boy he doesn't even know, and possibly doesn't even care about.'

'I agree with everything you say.' Phil was delighted by her response. 'It's just that Liz and Jim are eager to give Adam the news that the unsavoury character he believed to be his father was never his real father at all. The thing is, nothing is certain yet.'

'So, do you think you might persuade them to keep this discovery to themselves, at least until I've had a chance to verify some of the possibilities?'

Phil was thrilled. 'I can't thank you enough, because I know if anyone can locate this man, and get to the truth, it's you.'

'You know I can't promise anything, except to do my utmost, for you, and Adam. I do have numerous contacts in far-flung places, and if you promise to speak with Liz and Jim, I can get on to it straightaway. So, do you think you can persuade them not to tell Adam ... at least for now?'

Phil did not hesitate. 'I know they'll understand when I tell them that you've decided to help us. With you searching for the man we all hope is Adam's real father, that leaves us able to throw all our efforts into finding Adam.'

They shook hands, and while Phil left with a smile on his face, Miss Martin was already sifting through her contacts list.

On a fine, dry day, Miss Martin turned her little black car into the street, some time after Phil's visit to see her.

Parking the car halfway down, she shifted it out of gear and turned off the engine. She then gathered her small briefcase into her arms, and got out of the car. After a glance up and down, she mentally registered the number sequence on the doors. 'Ah ... this way, I think.' She proceeded to walk along the pavement, checking the door numbers.

The house with the two flowerpots outside was numbered to correspond with the number in her notepad.

She made her way up the path and knocked on the door. By nature she was a stalwart and confident figure, but this particular errand today felt more like a part of her own life than a matter of professional interest. Realising how important the outcome of this meeting was to Adam, she felt decidedly nervous.

When there was no answer to her modest tapping on the door, she took a deep breath and gave a resounding knock on the door panel.

Inside the house, Sally was running the upright Hoover over the carpet, and had not heard the first knock. 'Oh, who the devil's that?' It had been one of those mornings. She had already changed the bed, done a pile of washing and baked a cake for the woman next door it was her daughter's tenth birthday tomorrow and she was hopeless at baking.

'All right! I'm coming.' Switching off the Hoover, Sally rushed to the door and flung it open. She was surprised to see a very matronly looking woman standing on her doorstep. 'Can I help you?'

Miss Martin was relieved to see this very ordinary though pretty woman answering the door. 'Thank you, yes. I hope you don't mind this intrusion, but I'm looking for a Michael Slater. He does live here, doesn't he?' After flicking through her notepad, she showed it to Sally. 'This is the right address, isn't it?'

'Well, yes ... that's our address.' Slightly frazzled by piles of housework and a late Friday night that left her tired, Sally was somewhat impatient. 'Sorry, but ... might I ask what you want with my husband?' Thinking her visitor both polite and official, she was a little concerned.

'I'm sorry, please forgive me, but it's a rather delicate matter and I do need to speak with Michael Slater ... if he's at home?' She felt awkward. She had hoped he would be alone, but now that she was faced with his wife, she was uncertain as to whether it might be wise to come back another time. The news she was bringing, would no doubt be a shock to Michael, but possibly even more of a shock to his wife, who in the event must surely be made aware of her purpose for this visit.

Miss Martin, however, felt her responsibility was to speak with Michael. It was then for him to speak with his wife.

Suddenly he was there. 'Yes, I'm at home.' Having come in from the shed, he was still in his work overalls and with oil stains on his smiley face. He opened the door wider. 'So who wants me?' He smiled at Sally, but Sally was not amused.

Miss Martin was staggered to realise how much Adam resembled Michael: the same bright eyes and smiley face. The same thick, wild hair. She was deeply shaken but excited, yet managed to compose herself. After all, a smiley face, and a mop of wild hair was not enough to go on.

'This lady asked for you, Mick,' Sally said lightly. 'She needs to discuss a delicate matter, but doesn't seem at all keen on talking to me.'

She opened the door wider. 'Please ... do come in.' After ushering Miss Martin inside, she then ordered her husband, 'You go and get cleaned up, while I put the kettle on.'

Gesturing to the lounge door, she asked Miss Martin, 'Please ... go and sit down, while I make us a pot of tea ... or would you prefer a cold drink?' She was curious as to why this woman might want to speak with Michael.

Upstairs, Mick was wondering the very same. 'What the devil does she want with me?' he muttered as he washed and changed. 'I don't believe I've ever clapped eyes on her before.'

Miss Martin thanked Sally for her kind offer of tea, which, after her journey, would go down very nicely. 'Tea would be lovely,' she said, and watched as Sally went away. She hoped her visit here today would not wreck this marriage.

It seemed no time at all before Sally was back with the tray. 'So ... what's this "delicate matter" you mentioned?' She set the tray down and poured out three teas. 'Sugar ... er ... I don't know your name?'

'It's Miss Martin ... and please, forgive my manners.' She smiled up at Sally. 'Oh ... yes, two sugars, thank you.'

She felt awkward. 'I'm sorry, but ... would it be possible for me to see Michael alone?'

'Mick and I have no secrets. I'm sure he would want me here.'

'Yes! Of course I want you here.' At that moment, Michael returned to find the visitor seated in the armchair. Sally was seated a distance away, on the sofa. 'Right! So, what's this all about?' He addressed the visitor, but glanced at Sally. When she looked away, it made him curiously uneasy.

Miss Martin was also uneasy. She felt awkward with Sally in the room. 'It's difficult,' she said, as Mick sat down in the chair opposite. 'I'll be honest with you both. I was hoping I might talk with Michael, first, and then the two of you could discuss the matter after I've gone.'

'Nonsense!' Mick was adamant. 'Sally and I always deal with everything together. So, who are you, and what's the purpose of your visit here?'

Miss Martin first verified that he was the right person. She checked his name, recent addresses, and ran through the information she'd collated. When he asked light-heartedly if she'd come to tell him he'd been left a deal of money by an aged unknown relative, she chuckled. 'No, nothing like that, I'm afraid.'

She informed him of her name and her work, and both Sally and Mick were taken aback. Why would someone in charge of a children's home be coming to see Mick? Sally was unsettled by the information.

Mick, too, was irritated. 'Why in G.o.d's name would you be wanting to speak with me?' he asked impatiently. 'Where do I fit into all that?'

Miss Martin drew out a sheaf of details. 'Firstly, let me tell you that there is no certainty in anything I have to say, or show you. Like I say, it's a difficult situation.' She glanced at Sally, who was now on the edge of her seat and thinking the worst.

Miss Martin went on: 'We're here simply to determine whether or not this has anything to do with you, or means nothing at all to you. In the latter case I beg your forgiveness, and I'll be on my way.'

Sally was growing increasingly nervous. 'What have you to say?'

And so, she told them about Adam, and how her enquiries had brought her here, to their home.

She informed them of what she knew of his mother, while carefully withholding her name.

'His mother was a lovely lady, but she married a monster, and that monster hurt her so badly that she died. The husband was arrested and is now safely locked away. With his father secure in prison and his mother buried, young Adam became an orphan and was subsequently brought to my children's home. He is now with foster parents.'

Sally was intrigued. She felt for the boy, Adam, but wanted to know, 'What has all this to do with us?'

'Please, I'm getting to that.' Miss Martin went on: 'Adam has his mother's gentle nature, and though he appeared to be content with his new foster parents, the daughter resented him being there and there was a disagreement. Adam ran away, and despite everyone's efforts to find him, he has not been seen since. And of course we are all deeply concerned for his safety.'

She took out Adam's birth certificate and held it out to Michael. 'Does this tell you anything at all?'

He took the certificate and as he ran his eyes over the page, he took in a great gasp of breath.

'What is it?' Sally leaned over to see. 'What's wrong, Mick?' She saw the blood drain from his face, and her heart turned over. 'MICK! TELL ME! Please?'

He handed her the certificate and while she perused the details, he paced the floor, saying not a word, but looking as though his world had fallen apart. 'I knew her,' he said quietly. 'The boy's mother ... I knew her.'

Sally flung the certificate onto the couch. 'What are you trying to tell me, Mick? What has this boy to do with you?'

Suddenly he had her by the shoulders. 'Please! Listen to me, sweetheart ... it was a long time ago. It was before I met you. It was a fling, that's all. A young man's fling, and it meant nothing to me. It was one night, and I never saw her again.'

'So ... what are you saying to me?' She had an idea, but dared not say it out loud.

When Mick looked at her, he realised that one way or another, their lives were about to change, and he prayed he would not lose this woman, who he loved with all his heart. With tears in his eyes, he explained, 'The boy's birth-date ... he could be mine. I can't know for certain, but it all tallies.' The tears flowed shamelessly. 'Oh, sweetheart! I'm saying ... that boy could be my son!'

When Sally turned away and ran to the bedroom, he sat for a while on the chair, his head in his hands and his mind in pieces.

'You need to see something else.' Miss Martin gave him the tiny note Adam's mother had written, and as he read it, she told him, 'I don't think there is any doubt, do you?'