A quick search on an internet cafe computer found a perfect place, a property which was isolated yet could afford me the opportunity to start a small business to keep me busy. The long days and nights, times when I was free to think were the worst. Thinking of who could be around the next corner, what fate might be waiting for me when they discovered that I couldn’t pay them their money.
I sent an email, I wanted to purchase, sight unseen the land and buildings. The agent advised that I should see what I was buying, get a solicitor. I just told him that I would pay twenty per cent more for a rapid and silent purchase, and, as always money talks.
***
The sea air was bracing, it was a short walk to the estate agent. I pushed open the door.
“Hello Miss, can I help you?”
“I am representing the buyer of Glebe Farm. I’m her…” I paused. “Groom, she’s asked me to collect the keys. I believe everything is in order.” I had signed the required documents and returned them via a post office box in Blackpool, I just needed the keys. He reached into a box and pulled out a Jiffy bag. “There you are Miss, please wish your employer all the best.”
I stepped out into the cold air, with a short drive ahead of me. I had taken the time to take an intensive driving course and pass my test before buying a cheap, second-hand car. I knew where I was heading, Glebe Farm, a solid farmhouse, barns and stables with an outdoor arena.
I had arranged with the agent to ensure that the utilities were connected and he had even arranged basic furnishings and food in the refrigerator. No doubt they had seemed like bizarre requests, however, I was paying him well over the odds, therefore, he was more than happy to oblige.
I unlocked the farmhouse door, it was basic, clean and warm. I would soon have a fire going in the grate and it would feel like home to me, the stable rat who had lived beneath a railway arch. The kitchen was small, but the cupboards had been filled with staple foods and there were fruit and veg. I smiled.
“Welcome home…” I said aloud to the empty room.
22
Notes From a Stranger
Adam
I hope you are well, I appreciate that this is unusual, however, I received a letter through the post and I believe that it is supposed to be for you, therefore, I am forwarding it on to you.
I hope that you will be competing at the summer event, it would be good to see you defend your class.
All the best
Susan Green
I looked at the sealed envelope, the looping handwriting for my name and then the efficient writing of Susan, the super-efficient show secretary. I turned it over in my hands, apprehensively before tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the sheets of paper.
Adam
You have every right to hate me. I ran away and left you, but I have to tell you that there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought of you. You won’t remember, but I had been in the hospital when I was told that you were going to foster care. They made it sound nice, I hope that it was and that you have had a better life than me.
I ran away, it was a cowards option but, at the time I felt it was the only one open to me. The moment I did that I couldn’t look back, there was no way I could contact you. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I couldn’t go back to the care home, I had no life there.
I have made so many mistakes, but finally have found some stability and, dare I say it a family. Please, make contact, I have so much to tell you, so much I want to hear from you. I can only hope that you have been happy and that you don’t hate me too much.
Your forever loving sister,
Amanda
***
The train pulled into the station, I stepped off onto the platform and into the sunshine, there was a queue of taxis waiting on the forecourt so I was soon on my way, out of the busy town and into the lush countryside. I watched as the miles passed, I could see why Amanda had chosen to come here. After an uneventful journey, we arrived I paid the driver and stepped out of the cab. The surroundings reminded me of my foster home, the solid farmhouse with paddocks beyond.
I walked round to the back of the farmhouse, there was a tidy brick stable yard arranged in a horseshoe shape. A girl, about my age, was sweeping down the yard and looked up as I approached, she gave me a cheery greeting before doing a double-take and dropping her broom.
“Adam?” She rushed towards me, pushing open the gate and grabbing my shoulders. “Oh my God, it is you! Mum! Mum!”
She didn’t relax her grip on me as if I would run away if released. An older woman stepped out of one of the stables, carefully bolting the door after her.
“My goodness.” Wiping her hands on the back of her breeches as she approached me. “You came…” She held out her hand. “I’m May, this is my daughter Annie.”
“Adam Bishop, however, it seems you know who I am.”
Annie giggled. They ushered me through the back door of the farmhouse. It was warm and comforting, I sat down at the worn dining table while May gathered mugs and filled the kettle. Annie sat opposite me staring, she must have
