Josephine Cox - The Broken Man

‘Right then, son, that’s another week over. You go on; I need to secure the bus, especially after that young squirrel got inside and wreaked havoc.’

Adam went down the steps. On the last step he gave a short jump to the ground, his satchel catching on the handrail as he did so.

‘All right, are you?’ Phil released his satchel.

‘Yes, thank you, Phil.’

After following Adam down the bus steps, Phil secured the door behind him.

‘I expect you’re glad to be home, eh?’

Except for a curt nod of the head, Adam gave no reply, but he wanted to tell this gentle, kind man that no, he was not all right; that he was not glad to be home. He wanted to confess that he was afraid and unhappy, and that he often dreamed of running away. But he would never do that, because it might be dangerous for someone he loved dearly. So he kept his silence and went on pretending. Even now, as they approached the house, his heart was thumping. Was his father home yet? Had his day been good? Because if not … oh … if not … Quickly, he thrust the bad thoughts from his mind.

Man and boy went down the lane side by side.

‘By! This is a real treat.’ Phil sniffed the air. ‘This time o’ day, the pine trees give off a wonderful scent.’

Adam agreed. ‘Mum says it’s even stronger in the summer. She says when the trees begin to sweat, they create a thick vapour over the woods, and you can almost taste it.’

Phil loved the lazy manner in which the worn path wound in and out of the ancient woodlands, skirting magnificent trees that had been there far longer than he had.

‘You live in a really pretty part of the countryside,’ he told Adam. ‘And now you’ve got the whole weekend before you, so what might you be up to, eh?’ He chuckled. ‘By! I wish I were a lad again … climbing trees and apple-scrumping. The things we used to get up to, you would not believe.’ He gave a great sigh. ‘It’s all a lifetime ago now. Mind you, I’d never be able to climb a tree these days, not with my gammy leg.’ His pronounced limp was a painful trophy from the war.

‘I’m not allowed to climb trees.’ Adam’s voice softened with regret. ‘My father doesn’t approve of it.’

‘Well, I never!’ Phil was dumbfounded. ‘Climbing trees is what boys do. It’s a natural part of growing up, like fishing, and football.’ He gave a wistful smile. ‘And who could ever forget the first time he kissed a girl?’ He rolled his eyes and made the boy smile shyly; he still had that pleasure to come.

‘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.