The Runaway by Grace Thompson

far as we know, we think it unlikely there was a sinister reason for her disappearance. It was all carefully planned.’
    Matt locked himself in his workshop and concentrated on fulfilling his orders. At first his fingers were careless, but then he calmed down and did his best work, trying to lose his frustration and ease the pain.
     
    Unencumbered by heavy luggage, Faith had walked a little way, then got on a bus. She stopped at Dinas Powys to post cards to Mrs Porter and Winnie, then went on to Cardiff. She was tired and filled with the desire to cry. Forcing herself to hold back from giving in to her grief she stayed fairly calm until she was on the train back to Barry. Then tears ran down her cheeks and she hid them behind a magazine she had bought. If any one noticed, no one asked what was the matter and she was grateful for that. She had booked into a hotel on the seafront, a short walk from the station and she went straight to her room.
    She planned to stay there for a few days to recuperate, after which she hoped to start working for a Mrs Rebecca Thomas, in the role of housekeeper and companion. She had only spoken to the lady on the telephone, arranging for a week’s trial on both sides, but felt hopeful of being accepted once they had met and her qualifications had been examined. For now, all she wanted was to cry until she fell asleep.
    Breakfast at the hotel was served in a small dining room where four tables were set with white cloths and gleaming cutlery and glasses. She wasn’t hungry but knew she ought to eat something. She was still weak after the birth. Several people came in and greeted each other, obviously regulars or even permanent guests. A man about her own age came in, carrying a large briefcase. Each table was occupiedby at least one person and he came across and asked if he could join her.
    ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind?’ he said. She gestured to the chair across from her and he put his briefcase on the window ledge. ‘Thanks. You’ve saved me from working through the meal, a very bad habit. Much nicer to talk.’ Faith didn’t reply. She didn’t want to talk to a stranger, she was too near to tears for that.
    He seemed aware of her reluctance without anything being said and, apart from a smile as he accepted bread from the plate she passed, he stared through the window. When he stood to leave, he said, ‘If you’re a stranger here, you’ll find the town a pleasant one. A walk along the front is relaxing, and the town has all you might need.’
    Ashamed of her rudeness she smiled and thanked him. Unable to explain, she said, ‘I’ll enjoy exploring.’
    ‘Good luck,’ he said, adding. ‘I’m Ian Day.’ To which she didn’t reply, but just offered the faintest of smiles in return.
    He stood searching in his pockets, presumably for car keys, and she was able to study him. He had a boyish look, blue eyes with a disconcertingly curious stare, his fair hair was straight and shorter than most wore it. He was about six feet tall and walked upright, proud of his height. Shoulders back, he strode out of the room with a confident air, waving to a few guests as he passed them. Ex-Army perhaps, she wondered?
    He stopped at the entrance and from his over-stuffed briefcase took out two folders. She watched curiously, trying to guess what his occupation might be. Then she pushed thoughts of him aside. This was a hotel and she was staying only two more nights, so it was unlikely she would see him again.
    Out of season, Barry was still a busy town. New houses were being built and the population was growing, but she knew that during the summer months the place would be crowded with holidaymakers and day-trippers, all intent on having fun. It was the last place Matt would expect to find her, a perfect place in which to hide, filled with strangers and large enough for her not to be noticed, specially after today, when she planned a visit to a hairdresser to have her long hair cut into a