The Broken Man. Josephine Cox

him. The woman was middle-aged, dressed in a dark two-piece. The man was older, serious-looking, smart in light grey jacket and black trousers. He also carried a document case. They were the people Phil had seen in the office earlier.

      The woman introduced herself and her colleague: ‘My name is Miss Benson, and this is Mr Norman. We’re here on behalf of Child Welfare and Social Services.’ Her gaze shifted to Adam.

      Phil had already guessed at their reason for being there, and he expected the worst. ‘Child Welfare, eh? And may I ask, what it is you want from us?’

      ‘I understand you are Phil Wallis?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘You accompanied Adam and his mother, yes?’

      ‘I did.’

      ‘Well, Mr Wallis, first, I apologise for all the questions.’ She paused to glance at the sleeping boy. ‘Please be assured, we’re not here to cause distress at this unhappy time, but having been made aware of some rather unsettling issues, we’re duty-bound to examine the facts.’

      Phil was already on the defensive. ‘Well then, I’ll explain the “facts” to you, shall I?’ He pointed to Adam. ‘That poor child there has just lost his mother in the cruellest way imaginable. His father’s run off and the boy thinks the world has come to an end. I would not describe that as being an “unhappy time”. I would call that catastrophic, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘Well, yes, of course. As you say … but as I’ve explained, we have a job to do, and in view of the notification we received, we will first need to clarify the details of your relationship with the boy.’ Without waiting for Phil to respond, Miss Benson plucked a black notepad from her document case.

      After quickly scanning her own notes, she had a number of questions, which she put to Phil in a quiet manner, being acutely aware that Adam could wake at any moment. ‘If you could again confirm that you are Phil Wallis, and that you are no relation to Adam Carter.’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she seemed genuinely so, ‘but I need you, please, to go through what happened.’

      Phil was irritated. ‘Why can’t you let me get him home and we can answer your questions there?’ He lowered his voice to an angry whisper. ‘What good will it do Adam, sitting here just yards from where his mother lies dead? For pity’s sake, let me get him home. I can assure you, neither me nor the boy is about to leave the country!’

      ‘I understand your anxiety, Mr Wallis. Believe me, we also have Adam’s best interests at heart. So, if you could, please, quickly run through the events that brought you and Adam here …? Once we know exactly what the situation is, we can then decide which course of action to take.’

      Phil had no doubt about what she meant. These were official people, and he appreciated that their specific task was to protect children from harm. If they decided Adam needed taking into care, temporarily or otherwise, there would be nothing that he or anyone else could do to stop them. Especially considering not only the seriousness of events, but the fact that he himself was neither a relative nor even a long-term friend. He was merely the driver of the school bus; in the wrong place at the wrong time.

      Miss Benson now casually informed him, ‘Oh, and incidentally, because of the information we received, the police have been notified. I understand, they are on their way as we speak.’

      Her serious-faced companion, Mr Norman, now took a step forward. ‘Of course, the father will obviously need to answer to the police. Adam, however, will initially come under our jurisdiction.’ Gesturing to a nearby chair, he suggested, ‘Maybe you would care to sit down, while we take you through the procedure?’

      Phil flatly refused to sit down. ‘Ask your questions.’

      ‘Firstly, as we’ve already established that you are not Adam Carter’s grandfather, can you please explain how you came to be here, with the boy?’

      Phil explained, ‘I drive the school bus and have done these many years. I had already dropped all the other children off, and as Adam was the last, I decided to walk him up the lane to his house. When we got to the gate, I saw the man I assumed to be his father; he came rushing out of the house, and stood on the porch. I greeted him cordially, but he made no reply.’

      He paused before confiding, ‘It didn’t bother me that the boy’s father chose to ignore me; he’s got a reputation of being a miserable sod, to say the least. Anyway, thinking the boy would be safe enough with his father, I took my leave of them.’ He relived the scene in his mind.

      ‘Please, go on.’

      ‘Well, I was on my way back down the lane, when I heard Mr Carter yelling at Adam. Then all of a sudden this car sped past me. Seeing as it was the very same car that was parked in the drive, I thought it must be Adam’s father. Whoever it was, they must have taken leave of their senses, tearing down that narrow lane like a bat out of hell! Splashed mud all over my trousers, so he did, damned lunatic!’

      ‘What did you do then?’

      ‘Well, what else could I do but go back and find out why the boy was now calling. I found him in the lane – crying and shaking he was – and then I went back to the house with him and saw his mother, all broken and twisted at the bottom of the stairs. By, she was in a terrible way; she needed help, and quick. So, I did what needed doing: I sent Adam to call for an ambulance, while I sat and talked to his mother. I didn’t even know if she could hear me, but I was hoping she could. That’s what they say, isn’t it – talk to them, just in case they can hear you?’

      ‘So then what? Did the father come back?’

      ‘No! We saw neither hide nor hair of him. It wasn’t long before the ambulance arrived. They tended the mother and put her in the ambulance. Me and the boy jumped in alongside. And now we’re here, and that poor boy has lost his mother. And there you have it.’

      ‘Thank you. So now we’ll need to discuss the implications of what you’ve told us.’

      ‘What will happen to Adam?’ Phil asked anxiously.

      Miss Benson’s reply was curt: ‘We’ll be back shortly, and inform you of any decisions made with regard to Adam.’

      No sooner were they gone than the door opened to admit two police officers – a woman and her male colleague – who were interested to learn what exactly Phil might know about Adam’s father. Concerned that they were not of the same quiet disposition as the Child Welfare officials, Phil inched them over to the furthest side of the room. ‘I don’t want Adam to hear us talking,’ he explained, and they fully appreciated his concern.

      Over the next ten minutes or so, Phil impatiently answered all their questions; most of which he had already gone through with Miss Benson and Mr Norman.

      The officers were sympathetic, but they questioned Phil about various aspects of his account. ‘First, the medical staff were led to believe that you were the boy’s grandfather. How did that come about?’

      As before, Phil answered truthfully. ‘First of all, I can assure you that at no time did I give the impression that I was his grandfather. They just assumed that I was, and because of what was going on I didn’t bother to put them right. Mind you, I wish to God I was his grandfather, because then I might have some say in what happens to him.’ He told them that he was the driver of the school bus, and had fallen into a situation that no one with any compassion could have run away from.

      The questions were thick and fast: ‘How did you come to be here now, with Adam Carter? How much do you know about the manner in which Mrs Carter’s injuries were caused?’

      ‘I don’t know any more than I’ve already explained,’ Phil told them. ‘I was on my way back to my bus, when the boy called for me to help him. I neither heard nor saw anything of what took place up to that point.’

      ‘All right, so could you just go through it again, say what you