have called you from the bus station but I’m afraid I don’t carry a mobile. We’re not as up to date in the Yorkshire countryside as you are down here in London. In fact, there’s no signal where I live, so a mobile telephone would be something of a waste of time.” She turned to Matt. “I’m very glad to meet you, my dear. I have, of course, heard so much about you.”
Matt looked at the woman who had volunteered to be his foster parent in the LEAF Project. He didn’t like what he saw.
Jayne Deverill could have stepped out of another century: a time when teachers were allowed to beat children and there were Bible readings before breakfast and tea. He had never met anyone more severe-looking. Jill Hughes had greeted the woman like an old friend, although it turned out that the two had never met – they had only spoken on the phone. Stephen Mallory looked more uncomfortable. He was also meeting Mrs Deverill for the first time, and although he had shaken her hand, he had lapsed into silence and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. The magistrate was more interested in the paperwork than anything else, in a hurry to get this whole thing over with. Matt examined Mrs Deverill again. She was sipping her tea but her eyes never left him. They were devouring him.
“Do you know Yorkshire at all?” she asked.
It took a moment for Matt to realize that she was talking to him. “No,” he said. “I’ve never been there.”
“Lesser Malling is the name of the village. It’s a bit out of the way. The nearest town is Greater Malling and nobody’s heard of that either. And why should they have? There’s nothing there. We’re very down-to-earth in Yorkshire. We look after the land and the land looks after us. I’m sure you’ll find it very quiet after the city. But you’ll get used to it in time.” She glanced at the magistrate. “I can really take him with me today?”
The magistrate nodded.
Mrs Deverill smiled. “And when will you make your first visit?”
“Six weeks from now. We want to give Matthew time to settle in.”
“Well, after six weeks with me, I can assure you, you won’t recognize him.” She turned to Gwenda Davis. “You won’t need to worry about him, Ms Davis. You can telephone him any time you want and, of course, we’ll both look forward to you coming up to visit.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” Gwenda was still worried. “It’s a long way, and I’m not sure my partner…” She fell silent.
“There are some final forms you have to fill in, Mrs Deverill,” the magistrate said. “But then the two of you can be on your way. Ms Davis brought in a suitcase with some of Matthew’s clothes and things.” She turned to Matt. “I expect you’d like a few minutes on your own to say goodbye to your aunt.”
“No. I’ve got nothing to say to her.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Gwenda said, and suddenly she was angry. “I was never anything to do with your family. I was never anything to do with you. I didn’t even want to take you in after what happened to your parents. But I did and you were nothing but trouble. You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.”
“There’s no need for this,” Mallory said. “Good luck, Matt, I really hope this works out for you.” He held out a hand. Matt hesitated, then shook it. This wasn’t Mallory’s fault. That much he knew.
“Time to go!” Mrs Deverill said. “We don’t want to miss the coach!”
Matt stood up. Mallory watched him with thoughtful, anxious eyes as he left the room.
Two hours later Matt walked across Victoria coach station carrying the suitcase that Gwenda had packed for him. He looked around him at the coaches thundering in and out, the crowds of travellers and the snack and magazine stalls behind the plate-glass windows. It was an unpleasant place: cold and damp with air that smelled of diesel. He could hardly believe he was here. He was free… Finally out of police custody. No. Not free, he
Janwillem van de Wetering