A message for Steve Drayton.

He will find Maddy Delaney

at the following address:

To be certain she had it exactly right, she consulted the torn page of the address book. Satisfied she knew it by heart, she then carefully folded the paper, thrust it into her pocket, and recommenced writing:

The Cottage

Brighill Farm

Little Brickhill

Buckinghamshire

She added a PS at the bottom-

THE CHILD WAS PUT UP FOR ADOPTION.

Closing the front door behind her, Ellen dropped the key through the letter box, and said, “Goodbye, Grandad.” She did not expect to be back this way again. Marching the pushchair smartly down the path, she waved to Nosy Nora weeding in the front garden, but did not stop to chat.

Within the hour, she had taken a taxi to Lytham and was walking down the main road front, her eyes peeled for a sight of the man who had accosted Maddy that day. Okay, it had been weeks ago now, but Steve Drayton would be very thorough, Ellen knew that from her dealings, with other “low-lifes in Soho. He’d be bound to have kept someone on watch in this area.

Maddy’s description of the man was imprinted on her mind: “Tall, willowy and sallow-looking, with thick shoulder-length hair. He had piercing eyes and a trampish look about him.” For days afterward, Maddy had spoken of him in a fearful voice.

Up and down, backward and forward, across the street and down the alleyways; for two hours, Ellen covered as much ground as was possible. But there was no sign of any such man. It was fortunate that Michael was having his morning nap.

Weary and thirsty, she made her way to the café where she and Maddy had drunk hot chocolate.

“Well, hello, you.” The homely middle-aged woman recognized her instantly. “Where’s your friend – I never did catch her name. Sally, wasn’t it – or was it Molly? Yes, that was it – Molly. Yes, I remember now. She loved my hot chocolate, that lass did.”

Ellen smiled encouragingly. “Molly had to go and see a sick aunt,” she said. “I thought, being as it was a nice day, I’d take my son for a walk.”

“Aw, the little darling.” Peeping at Michael, she tickled him under the chin. “You’re a handsome little fella an’ no mistake.” Looking up at Ellen she asked, “What’s his name?”

“Robert.” Her grandfather’s name came into her mind. And it was Michael’s middle name.

“Nice name – suits him. But I hope you realize, folks will call him Bob for short. They always do.”

“I don’t mind. Bob is a good name for a man. I’ll have a pot of tea and some toast, please.” Then Ellen settled herself at the table by the window, from where she could clearly see the length of the street.

A short time later, when she had shared her toast with the baby and was on her second pot of tea, Ellen was none too pleased to see how the café was beginning to fill up.

When a young couple took the table right alongside, blocking her clear view of the street, she gulped down her tea and took her handbag over to the counter. “I’d best be going,” she told the woman. “How much do I owe you?”

“That’ll be one pound fifty to you, dear. Drop in again, next time you’re round here, and bring the babby and your pal. I’d rather have customers like you in here any day than them hoity-toits.” She glanced at a couple of well-dressed women in the far corner. “Come in here with their airs and graces – never a tip or a thank you.”

Ellen grinned, and bade her cheerio. Just as she was about to maneuver the pushchair over the step, she looked up – and there, large as life, standing on the far side of the street, his sharp eyes watching every passerby, was the man himself. However, he was completely unaware of her presence. Now, much to her horror, he suddenly turned down a side street. It’s him! she thought. It’s that man! There was no doubt in her mind. She set off after him, pushing the heavy buggy as fast as she could.

Just around the corner, the man had stopped to light up a cigarette. He had his back to her. Ellen took the opportunity to pull her hair up under the cap, and, hunching her shoulders to disguise herself as best she could, she sauntered up alongside him. As she went quickly by, she deliberately dropped the folded paper in front of him. That done, she looked around and began running as fast as she could back up to the main road, while yelling to a nonexistent friend, “Janette! Wait for me, dammit!”

Behind her, she could hear him calling her. “Hey! This fell out of your pocket!”

Hurrying round the corner, she hid against the wall, then peered back, to see him staring at the folded paper. Then slowly, he opened it out and read it. When he looked up, she could see how excited he was.

Quickly now, she pushed the sleeping Michael into the corner shop beside her and bought some crisps and a magazine. She was exhilarated. He had Maddy’s address: he had seen it, and knew the note was meant for him. But thankfully, he did not know who had delivered it, and that was fine. Just fine!

Congratulating herself, she paid the shopkeeper a pound to phone and order a taxi, and then she and Michael were on their way to a new life.

From Blackpool station, the pair traveled to Euston, and from there to Waterloo and Southampton, and the ferry-port.

By evening time, they were boarding the ferry to the Isle of Wight. Standing on deck with the baby wrapped snugly in her arms, Ellen watched as the lights of the mainland shore receded in the dark-blue night.

Ellen had so wanted to change Michael’s name, but felt as though in changing it, she might be doing him an injustice. “Michael,” she kept repeating it. “Michael Drew: it has a certain ring about it. And if over the years people call you Mick, that’s all right too.”

She decided it didn’t matter that he had been named by Maddy, because he was his own little character now, and besides, his mother had not seen him grow and flourish like she had. Maddy didn’t know him; she had surrendered her right to him the minute she left. “You’re my responsibility now, darling,” Ellen whispered, and glanced up as though talking to some unseen being. “That’s right, isn’t it? Michael is my son, now and forever.”

Not far away, a woman and her husband had been watching her. “She’s a strange one,” the woman commented now. “She’s holding the child so tight to her, that it can hardly breathe. It’s like she’s afraid someone might snatch it away.”

“Stop staring, Nancy!” Her husband drew her away. “The poor woman’s probably afraid he might fall into the water.”

“Then why has she come out here, tell me that?” There was something about Ellen that made her curious. “I saw her inside and she was just as strange then… nervously looking about, as though someone might be after taking her child.”

Persuading her away, her husband lightheartedly chided, “Honestly, Nancy! As always, your imagination is working overtime. The poor girl’s probably had a bad experience or something. Either way, it’s none of our business.”

Oblivious to the lookers-on, Ellen felt happier than she had done in a long time.

Smiling into the little one’s sleeping face, she snuggled him even closer to her. “I’ll work hard to make a life for the two of us,” she promised, “and don’t you worry: nobody will ever find us where we’re going.”

She thought of Maddy. And her grandfather. And for just the briefest moment, wondered if she would be lonely without them.

Then she saw the baby’s eyes open, as he gazed up at her, trusting her unquestioningly, like a child does. And her heart soared. “We don’t need them,” she told him. “We’ll always have each other.”