Mummy Where Are You? (Revised Edition, new) Read Online Free PDF Page A

– for after all we had come there to escape fear, not seek it out. 
                  Our suitcases were thrown into the room hurriedly by my uncle.  He drove off quickly and we barely saw him again in the next few weeks.   My father had sent him a cheque for ten thousand pounds to help us to get started – he told me it had not come and it would take weeks to clear through his bank when it did – we were now alone in a room in a motel – with only a few dollars on which to exist. 
                  I tried to keep faith that it would work out. I attempted to call my father on Skype as it was the only way of talking safely and for free.  But in the cheaper room we had taken there was no wireless internet - again I took a leap of faith, knowing it was essential to keep in touch with Dad, I went to reception and we moved into the main building near the reception area into a slightly bigger room that had Wi-Fi. 
                  This room was to become our home for the next few weeks.  It contained a double bed, television, small bathroom, ironing board and iron and a small closet.   It was the type of room that one might stay in for a night en route whilst travelling.  It was not a room designed to be a home, but to us it was a small paradise because we were still together and the future stretched before us offering us promise, a life free of the endless Court battles – a life where anything was possible and in our wake lay several thousand miles and an ocean.
                  And so we began our new life.  We hadn’t had to pay any money up front.  I dared not use any of my credit cards that may locate us or connect us to our previous life.  I ran a small Ebay business and Dad was dealing with the few orders that came in each month.  I had no American bank account at that time so couldn't access any of my funds.   I didn’t have a fortune and couldn't touch the two thousand pounds  I had myself in savings.  I had only a few hundred in my Pay pal account.  I would worry about money later.  Meanwhile we just had to exist and think about how we might find a  more permanent home than this room.
     
                  I knew we needed people. The Church seemed the right place to start.  We had never been religious, even though I had a brother who was a vicar – my faith in God had long since left when the evil that had prevailed in our old life suggested that Truth and Love did not necessarily protect a child from harm and had little to do with the Justice system that existed in the Family Courts.
                  I persuaded my son we must attend Church and make some friends.  There was a Pentecostal Church near to our motel.  It was a start.   It was large, noisy and very happy-clappy – nothing that we were used to at all.  My son had only been to Church with me to attend my mother’s funeral.  He had sung at her service of his own volition and I filled with pride when I remembered how brave he had been at just six years old singing “There can be miracles, when you believe”.  He had shown tremendous courage in following me here and now I was responsible for fulfilling the miracle of a life without fear for him – could I live up to his faith in me?  Only time would tell.   We sang away next to the hundreds of strangers and I prayed despite my lack of faith – I longed for inspiration as to what to do next, but all I saw were people waving their arms in the air believing in the power of the Lord, whilst we stood amongst them – strangers in a foreign land – on the run.
                  Keeping my son occupied was important.  He deserved to have a summer holiday now that the schools were on vacation.  I wanted it to be as close to normal as we could make it, but there was nothing even remotely normal about our situation.   He bravely held my hand as we walked back to the motel.  He saw the whole thing