The estate agent peered earnestly over his half-moon spectacles.

      "There is, of course, no way this could ever be made into a habitable residence!" he decreed.  "In fact, if it were mine I'd have it pulled down at once, preferably before somebody gets hurt."

      When an agent describes a property as suitable only for demolition, you may be sure he's being uncommonly candid.  I'd known for years that the house was in a delapidated state, its former owner having long since passed away.  And every time I drove past, a forlorn sign dangling in the front garden kept urging me to do something about it.

      I hinted that a discerning buyer might still find the place throbbing with nostalgic charm, but the man snorted.

      "Charm?  I see precious little charm in that crumbling pile!  But if you're buying it purely for the land, it's an excellent site.  Though keep well clear of the structure itself.  Make sure you take along a qualified surveyor, and mind you watch out for falling masonry!"

      I assured him I was born with an abnormally thick skull.

      The agent stared as if doubting my sanity.  "Quite so.  Well, it's pointless handing over keys.  Not a pane of glass remains intact!  Besides, you're surely not thinking of venturing inside the place?  We've erected clear signs warning the public to keep out!"

      An hour later I stood spell-bound in the neglected front garden, so overgrown it might well have harboured wild animals.  The rear had become virtually inaccessible behind a proliferation of ruthless brambles that had commandeered the entire area like a jungle of heavy barbed wire.

      The house itself presented an eerie, forbidding sight - damp and threatening, as if fully aware of my presence and waiting for me to make the first foolish move in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

      A more level-headed man might have had grave doubts about squandering his savings on such a sorry spectacle, but from the moment I saw that it was up for sale I knew it was destined to be mine.

      I stood there confronting the biggest challenge of my life, yet the prospect filled me with elation.  Pull it down?  The house where I was born?  What environmental hooligan would suggest pulling down a cathedral merely because it was in a state of disrepair?  To me this was as worthy as any listed building, a part of my personal heritage I was determined to restore to its former status.  It was, after all, the nearest I would ever come to owning an ancestral home.

      I did demolish one item - the obsolete FOR SALE board.  I also took the estate agent's advice, and brought myself a yellow hard-hat - merely to look the part as I began my detailed survey.  Someone loitering in a shabby raincoat might have been taken for a squatter; but a man with a hard-hat and an impressive clip-board was plainly on legitimate business, not to be challenged by nosey neighbours or bumbling bureaucrats.

      The crudely boarded front door would originally have led into a central hallway with large reception rooms on either side.  If the house had been habitable, the agent might have described it as a sturdy family dwelling with four bedrooms, a spacious bathroom, a secluded dining-room, a breakfast-room adjoining the kitchen, and a drawing-room big enough to house two grand pianos.  Thirty years ago, as well I knew, it had been owned by a barrister and his wife - the parents of an only child who unhappily became an orphan at the age of fifteen.  Now twice that age, the lad had matured into a successful Chartered Surveyor, with aspirations of becoming a family man himself in the not too distant future - once he found the right partner!

      Behind the house stood the remnants of a conservatory, though not a pane of glass remained to ward off the wind and many seasons of drifting leaves.  Abandoned household artefacts lay scattered among the waist-high grasses - a rusty washing-machine, a child's tricycle missing its front wheel, an old lawn-mower and the remains of a rotary clothes-line.  Yet amid this social flotsam stood an abundance of fine rose-bushes, all thriving well despite years of human neglect.

      A sudden flapping of broad wings made me glance up at the hanging gutters as a large bird left its nest and flew off towards the adjoining woods, squawking in protest at my arrival.  Most of the tiles were missing from the roof, yet I saw no broken pieces on the ground.  Presumably they'd all been removed by a succession of predators, leaving the rafters and attic open to the elements.

      Did a clutch of young vandals appear every night to cart away their mounting collection of illicit souvenirs?  How many had ventured inside, risking injury among the broken glass and rotting floor-boards?  There seemed no way of keeping explorers out, indeed the notices served only as a goad, a challenge to any high-spirited adventurer!

      Expecting the back door to be boarded like the front, I was surprised to find it missing altogether.  Cautiously I crossed the threshold and stood, for the first time in twenty-nine years, in my mother's old kitchen.  I have scant memories of those early days, but it seemed logical I would have been fed there in my infancy.  I was doubtless cuddled and admired in most of the downstairs rooms, and gently sponged in the bathroom before being tucked into a snug little cot somewhere upstairs.  But which room had served as my nursery?

      As if to minimise my impact on rotting timbers, I tiptoed through clumps of gritty debris in the hallway and came to the foot of the stairs, where I noticed something incongruous.  Dirt and rubbish lay all around me, but the staircase itself had been brushed clean.  Residual dampness darkened the treads near the wall where a small stream had cascaded down after a heavy storm, but near to the handrail it was bone dry and looked firm enough to stand on.

      With more than a prayer, I made my way gingerly up the stairs, testing each surface before transferring my weight forward.  On reaching the top, I crept along the landing and opened one of the bedroom doors, where to my surprise I saw signs of habitation.

      Newspapers and magazines had been laid out carefully like a carpet, and in the driest corner stood a crudely erected tent, its guy-ropes pinned to the floor with nails.  I listened, and from within I could hear the sounds of tense breathing.

      "Is anyone there?" I called softly.  "Don't let me frighten you - I'm quite friendly - just nosing around."

      The breathing stopped.

      "I am within my rights, being here, you know."

      Still no reply.

      "If you're homeless, don't worry - I'm not from the authorities."

      I was about to add: "I'm here alone!" but realised this wasn't a wise revelation.  The tent might have housed an escaped convict armed with a bread-knife!

      Getting no response, I backed quietly away and peered into the other rooms.  In one, part of the floor was missing altogether, while its walls were severely scarred by black mould.  I wandered along to the bathroom and found further signs of occupancy.  Fresh towels lay neatly draped over the side of the bath, and the window-ledge bore an assortment of cosmetics, a child's toothbrush and a pack of disposable nappies.

      Somewhat reassured, I returned to the occupied room.

      "Wouldn't you be safer on the ground floor?" I suggested quietly, and noticed a slight movement beneath the canvas.

      "I guess you weren't expecting visitors," I rambled on.  "Normally I'd have phoned first, but I seem to have mislaid the number of your tent!"

      This remark was greeted by a curious sniffling sound which I took to be stifled laughter.

      "Should I call back at a more convenient time?" I asked.

      Then a face appeared, the fresh, natural face of a young woman, hardly more than a girl, her wide eyes betraying guilt and apprehension.

      "Good afternoon," I greeted her genially.  She placed a warning finger over pursed lips.  "Good afternoon," I repeated in a hoarse whisper.  "Do I take it we're not alone?"

      "Sh!" she hissed.  "Jamie's asleep.  Please - don't send us away."

      I knelt down.  "I've no wish to send anyone away," I said.  "I didn't even know you were here.  How long have you been living like this?"

      "Since Friday.  I took Jamie away to keep him safe.  Sorry for the smell - he needs changing, but I didn't like to disturb him till I had to.  I didn't want him making no noise.  I hoped you'd go away."

      "I will if you like, but I think I ought to tell you - I've just bought this house."

      "What?  You mean, to live in?"

      "No," I laughed, "not right away.  I do have a proper place of my own.  But this is the house where I was born, and when I saw it was for sale, I knew I had to buy it back.  It's apparently been on the market for years but no-one seems to want it.  Besides, any other buyer would be sure to pull it down.  I hope I can prevent that."

      "You plan on fixing this up?"

      "That is the general idea!  Crazy, wouldn't you say?"

      The girl looked up at the grey October sky, visible through a large hole where the ceiling had caved in.

      "Couldn't you afford nowhere better?" she asked with a wry grin.

      "I don't want anywhere else.  I told you, I was born here!"

      "In this room?"

      "I'm not sure.  But one of these rooms must have been my nursery."

      "With a cot," her eyes sparkled, "and toys dangling from the ceiling?"

      "I expect so.  My parents moved house when I was two, so my memory's short on detail!"

      "Do you think Jamie's going to remember any of this?" she asked.

      "I doubt it.  How old is he?"

      "Why do you ask?" she demanded with a defensive scowl.  "Just a few months, that's all!  You swear you haven't come to take us away?"

      "That's not my intention," I assured her, "though I am concerned about your welfare.  This is hardly the place to rear a baby!"

      "I don't suppose he knows no different, as long as I keep him warm, and feed him regular."

      "What do you feed him on?"

      "Milk!" she retorted, as though I should have known better than to ask.  "You don't give them solids at this age!"

      I confessed my ignorance.  "But what about you?  Are you looking after yourself properly?"

      "Of course," came the defiant response.  "What's it to you, anyhow?"

      "Well, this is my house.  Naturally I care about the welfare of my guests.  You're welcome to stay here, but surely you'd prefer somewhere more comfortable?  For a start, you could do with a proper ceiling!"

      The girl studied me curiously, one eye closed.  "You having me on?"

      "No," I said.  "Look, I didn't expect to find anyone here, but now that I have, it's my duty to do what's best for you and the baby."

      "You're not going to tell no-one?"

      "Not if you don't want me to.  But you'll have to satisfy me that Jamie's being properly looked after.  This isn't a safe environment for anyone, let alone a nursing infant!"

      "We keep ourselves clean," the girl insisted.  "There's plenty of rain water!  It's not hot, but I can still clean him when he makes a mess."

      "My dear girl, that's not the point.  The authorities would take a very dim view of anyone living like this."

      "It's no worse than a camping holiday!"

      "Maybe not for a night or two, but how long do you plan to stay?  Listen, if you want my help, I'll see what I can do, but you'll have to tell me more about your circumstances.  And remember - fathers have rights too, you know!"

      "Oh, I see.  Siding with him, now?  Typical!  Well, push off - we don't need the help of no man.  If you decide to turn me out, fair enough.  I'll just find somewhere else, that's all.  But I'm not going back to Sid, not now, not after we've come this far, not unless you want the baby to end up dead!  And he will if we're sent back there!"

      "Then stop spurning my help.  Look, I hadn't intended setting foot in this house, but I won't sleep easily now, knowing about you.  I certainly don't mind your being here, but I am concerned for the baby.  That's why I'm prepared to offer you temporary accommodation in my other home, if you want it.  It really isn't safe for you to stay here."

      "Why would you want to give me accommodation?  I ain't got no money so I can't pay you back - and I'm not daft enough to think you wouldn't want some other way of paying.  I know men.  I wasn't born yesterday."

      "How old are you?"

      "What's it to you?"

      "My dear girl, I wasn't born yesterday either.  I assume you ARE over sixteen?"

      The girl's laugh was bitter.  "Doesn't it show?  I'm long past that.  I'm a mother, a grown adult, entitled to do as I please!"

      "Then listen.  I'll offer you a spare room in my house at no cost, at least for a couple of weeks until you've made up your mind what you want to do.  I'll provide meals; you'll be warm and dry, and I promise not to invade your privacy.  Look at it this way - you're already living under my roof.  Why not move to one that isn't full of holes?"

      "So what ARE you expecting in return?"

      "Company.  Someone to talk to while we sort out what's best for you and the baby.  And at the risk of upsetting you, we have to consider his father's rights too."

      The girl spat spontaneously on the floor, then looked apologetic.

      "Sid's not Jamie's father - that's what caused all the aggro - I never should have told him I was pregnant, but one thing led to another.  Sid's got a vile temper and when he finds out - well, I know what he's like once he gets a few beers inside him.  Besides, it's not Jamie's fault he's got a different dad, poor mite.  If anyone's to blame, it's me, though if you knew the whole story ..."  She broke off with a sigh.  "Anyway, it was essential we got out when we did, okay?  I had to think of the baby first!  I had to protect little Jamie!"

      The baby began crying, and she turned on me again.

      "See what you've done, getting me all worked up?  Why did you have to come barging in, disturbing our peace, eh?"  She crawled back inside the tent where her voice took on the caring softness of a young mother.

      "We've got a visitor," she said gently.  "Yes, we have!  A man who says we're in the wrong house, and he's come to find us somewhere nicer.  Can we trust him, d'you think?  I'm sure he's not like you-know-who - and we're certainly not going to let any nasty man hurt you, are we!  There!  Sh!  Everything's going to be all right, you'll see ..."

      The crying soon subsided, and in a moment she re-emerged holding a woolly bundle.  "Do you want to say hallo to the man?"

      Jamie chose not to make my acquaintance at first, and buried his face against his mother's shoulder.

      "How long since his last feed?" I asked.

      "Two o'clock."  She glanced at her watch.  "He'll need another before dark, but we can't do that with people watching.  Feeding's a personal time, isn't it, Jamie!  We don't want no strange men watching us, do we!"

      Jamie felt ready to turn and see who I was.  He looked an ugly child, yet his ugliness was strangely endearing.

      "Then I'll leave you for a while," I said.  "I've got some shopping to do, and I'll come back in an hour.  Please believe me, I've no intention of turning you out, but I'll be far happier if you'd accept my invitation.  And there are no strings attached, though I do live alone.  You'll simply have to put your faith in my integrity."

      "You're saying you'll provide meals?"

      "Of course.  I rarely allow my guests to starve."

      "Guests?  How many others have you got, then?"

      "None at present, which means no-one else need know about you.  All I ask is that you tell me frankly about your troubles, and we'll see if we can't find a solution to please everyone, including this little fellow!"

      Jamie grinned uncertainly.

      "There's only one answer that'll do us any good," said the girl, "and that's for Sid to go back inside.  He was supposed to be in for six years, they said, but some daft parole officer let him out early.  They never even warned me till the day it happened!"

      "You mean prison?"

      "You think I mean hospital or the army?  Sid was put away for raping some poor kid he never met before.  I've met her since.  I thought maybe she could help out and all, except he'd know where to find her."

      "Let me get this clear.  You got pregnant while your husband was in jail?  So what about Jamie's real father?  Can't he help?"

      The girl snorted.  "Don't talk wet!  He's got his lady-wife and three snotty kids in private schools.  Tony's someone I used to work for.  We both went to this three-day conference together, only he's moved on now - probably scared I'll start demanding maintenance - huh, some hopes!  No, I'm on my own now, and serve me right for trusting a selfish sod!  I shouldn't be so damned trusting, should I?  If I had an ounce of sense, I wouldn't be trusting you neither!"

      "Fine.  If you'd rather not trust me," I said, "I shan't be offended.  But my conscience would bug me if I knew little Jamie wasn't being properly cared for.  I'd have to think very hard about that - so you'd better have a good think too before I come back!  I'll see you in an hour or so!"

      I drove off to do my shopping, which included several extra items for Jamie and his mother.  It was already dark when I returned to the house, and I hoped my arrival wouldn't coincide with breast-feeding.  I called gently up the stairs, but there was no response, and when I eventually peered inside the tent I found it empty.

      Not knowing the girl's name, I called:  "Jamie?  Anyone around?"

      But the only reply came from birds in the rafters.  Before leaving, I took one last look around the garden.

      "You haven't told no-one?" said a nearby voice.  The girl stood up behind a rhododendron bush.

      "Where's Jamie?" I asked.

      She jerked her head.  "Down here.  I had to make sure you come back alone.  Didn't entirely trust you - thought you might have turned me over."

      "I gave my word and I'll try to keep it.  Now, do you want to stay, or come with me?"

      "You're sure you're not having me on?  I'm not one for ...  you know."

      "I'm sure you've taken one or two risks in your life, young lady, so take another now and trust me.  There are some gifts for you in the back of my car.  I even bought a child's car-seat on the understanding I can take it back if it isn't suitable.  How's that for good faith?"

      "Maybe."  She tilted her head and viewed me with a closed eye.  "Just why ARE you doing this?"

      "To make sure Jamie's all right.  It may be frosty tonight, and he won't relish being bathed in icy water!  But play fair - I'm not spending money on baby goods to find you've run out on me first thing in the morning!"

      The girl strapped Jamie into his car-seat and sat with him in the back while we made the half-hour journey back to my bungalow.

      "So when do you plan on renovating that place?" she asked.  "I don't mind helping, so long as it's nothing strenuous."

      "We'll see," I said, trying to be non-committal.  "It's early days yet.  The point is - I've secured it.  Now it's as good as mine."

      "You're lucky you can afford it," she sighed with disapproval.  "Some of us can't even afford to rent a room!  I've been on benefit since Sid went inside - though I suppose they'll stop that now - not that I'm letting him nowhere near me.  I'd sooner starve than go back to him!"

      "I can understand," I nodded.  "But there's no talk of starvation.  What would you like for dinner tonight?"

      "Don't care, so long as it's something warm.  I've had nothing but cold meat and salad for a week!  Just as long as it's not got onions or nothing to affect the baby's milk."

      "How about fish?" I suggested.

      "You mean fish and chips?"

      "I was thinking more of a savoury salmon pie topped with tarragon and grilled cheese, but we'll decide when we arrive.  This has been an incredible day, don't you think?"

      "For you, maybe!" the girl retorted.  "If you want God's truth, I'm bloody petrified!"

      "Why?"

      "You and me!  You with a car and two houses, me with nothing."

      "You find that petrifying?"

      I tried to catch her face in the mirror.

      "Look, I'm no fool, whatever you think.  You probably despise me for having nothing.  Well, it's not my fault, right?  I had a home once and I had my treasures - till everything got stripped off me by vultures and social parasites."

      "Who, for instance?"

      "The rotten council with their poll tax and bus fares!  Rent arrears, disposables and feed for the baby, whole heaps of things I had to fork out for - and all I get down at social security is scorn and disapproval as if I've no business existing on hand-outs!  They won't be happy till they find me and the baby both dead under a cardboard box!"

      "I doubt if they'd be overjoyed.  Tell me more about your errant husband, Sid!"

      "Sid!"  She echoed his name as if it left a sour taste.  "Don't get me wrong - we're not married, not officially, nothing in writing - just a kind of mutual agreement."

      "But one on which you both defaulted!"

      "Look, he's the one who defaulted first.  Besides, rape's a whole lot worse than having a quiet affair.  I mean, that's criminal assault!  What I done was just one of life's misfortunes - my only mistake was thinking someone actually wanted me."

      "Perhaps he did!"

      "Oh, yes, like a child wants toys for Christmas, novelty gone by New Year's Eve.  Strange man, Tony - deep, you know?  Like a lost child, he was - with a snooty wife who didn't give a damn!  But he's the main reason I don't go trusting no-one like I used to.  There's thousands of people out there who just use you, you know?  As long as it serves their purpose."

      "And you're still trying to decide what my motives are, hm?"

      She didn't respond, thus avoiding comments she might regret.  But what were my innermost motives?  Why had I offered to help this strange mother and her rather ugly child?

      Loneliness, that was the answer - the burning need for another thinking soul in my house, another voice besides endless radio and the TV. Eye-contact, body-language, the smell of another human being!  A chance to toss ideas around, to share experiences!  I've always been one for letting Fate take the lead, and for once I was certain Fate had!

      It was dark when we reached the bungalow.  My two passengers waited on the drive while I put the car away; then I unlocked the front door and ushered them into the hall.  The girl looked in awe at her surroundings, nervous and bewildered like a shy pupil entering a new school.

      "I expect you'd like first to be shown where the bathroom is?"

      She nodded gratefully and hurried forward with Jamie.

      "Here!" I said, throwing her a fresh towel.  "Call if there's anything you need!"

      "Call what?  Mr. Samaritan?  Landlord, or just plain 'Oy?"

      "It's Allen Bates," I said.  "Allen is fine.  What do I call you?"

      "Josie," was all she cared to reveal.

      "Fine, Josie.  Then take as long as you like, and I'll get that salmon pie started.  Care for a cup of tea first?"

      For the first time I saw a genuine smile of gratitude.

      A full half-hour passed, time enough to wonder whether Josie had changed her mind and vanished into the night, until a soft voice came and whispered in my ear:

      "I've bathed Jamie and he's sound asleep in the hall.  We really need a crib.  I don't suppose you keep cribs?"

      "We can improvise," I said.  "I've got plenty of blankets.  How about the bottom half of a suitcase?  If we put it on the floor he'll be quite safe."

      I filled a suitable case with cushions, and set it down in a corner of the living-room, leaving Josie to keep an eye on its occupant while she relaxed on the sofa.  She didn't offer to help, but I took this as a sign of weariness.  She looked as if she hadn't had a good night's sleep for over a week!  I brought her a mug of tea which she clasped in both hands.

      "Do you have any other name beyond Josie?" I asked quietly.

      She hesitated.  "Why do you need to know?"

      "Just curiosity," I smiled.  "I wasn't prying - merely making conversation.  I'm always interested in other people - where they come from, what their hobbies are, their tastes in music, plans for the future."

      "My plans?  I haven't got any.  I've long given up expecting dreams to come true.  I take each day as it comes, hoping I'm still alive at the end of it!  What else d'you want to know?  I like a bit of music, as long as it doesn't wake the baby, and I don't have no hobbies and that.  So that just leaves where I come from, and I'm not telling you that - not yet, anyhow.  I mean, I've got to be sure who to trust, haven't I?  A girl would be stupid to go blabbing off her mouth to just anyone!"

      "There's some sense in that!" I agreed.  "But what I'm really asking is if there's anything you want to talk about?  Here you are with a weaning child and no home you can safely return to - no possessions and not much money.  I tell you, if that were me I'd be bursting to share my troubles with someone - as long as I picked the right person."

      "Yes, and who would that be?  How do I know you're not from the welfare, come to take my child off me?  You said it twice, how you was concerned about his welfare more than mine.  And I still can't make out what you're really after!  Because if you think I'm good for a free shaft, we'd better get that idea knocked on the head from the start!  I slipped up once, okay?  And that was for a man I loved - someone I'd known for months.  So you've had your warning, right?  You know what to expect if you try anything!"

      "Josie, love, stop insulting my integrity.  Don't you realise, some people derive satisfaction simply from helping others.  I'm not trying to be noble and patronising - I just want to help as best I can, in return for reasonable gratitude and appreciation.  Lots of people give to charity ..."

      "Look, I ain't no charity," she broke in stiffly.  "You can cut that out for a start!"

      "I didn't say you were, Josie.  I was about to say lots of people give money to charity, but I prefer taking a more positive interest.  I like spending my time sharing a slice of other people's lives, listening to their stories and views.  I enjoy good lively conversation, that's all, so please don't go around with a chip on your shoulder!"

      "Especially when we're having fish!" she remarked with a coy twinkle.  "Look, I know I ought to be giving you a hand, but I'm totally whacked, okay?  I have this back problem that really screws me up at times, and what with sleeping on them damp boards for a week, it's giving me merry hell."

      I looked suitably concerned.  "Are you having treatment for it?"

      "Plenty, but there's not a lot they can do.  My spine's knackered and I've just got to put up with it."

      "But what's caused it, do they know?"

      "Arthritis, plain and simple.  It affects all ages, you know, not just old folks, though you get no sympathy if you're young.  People size you up and decide you're healthy, then complain when you can't manage to walk or lift things like the rest.  Tell anyone it's arthritis and they laugh and think you're having them on.  It's bloody unfair, but you don't find old ladies offering to help me cross the street!  Sorry!  I get bitter from all the aggro I have to put up with.  Is he all right over there?"

      I looked down at the sleeping Jamie, snug in his make-shift cot.

      "I hope the damp hasn't affected him," she sighed.  "I'm told they're very vulnerable at his age."

      "Then I'm glad you're not spending another night in those conditions.  Would you like me to show you the spare room?  I haven't put clean sheets on the bed yet, but it won't take more than a minute."

      "I'd better come and help," she volunteered, getting up with a struggle.

      "Maybe later," I advised.  "Let's take supper in our stride first!"

      We sat facing each other over the dining-table but scant conversation flowed.  Josie seemed grateful for every mouthful, wolfing it down like a hungry dog.

      "Was that okay?" I asked when she'd finished.

      "De-lish!" she assured me.  "And I will help with the washing up, I promise!"

      "No need," I said.  "My machine takes care of all that."

      "No kidding!  You really have got it nice here, Allen.  I'm surprised you want to move out."

      "I don't!  This was my mother's place before she died, so I don't have any mortgage worries.  But I couldn't bear to see that other house reduced to rubble.  Irrational, I know, but I'm something of a conservationist.  At least it won't get pulled down now without my consent!"

      "You certainly a conversationist, all right.  I love the way you talk.  So you really intend doing it up, then?  Great!  I'd like to help if I can, as long as it doesn't involve no bending or heavy lifting.  But I'm good with a needle, and I can hold bits of wood while someone saws them in half!  I used to help my Dad years ago, building chicken sheds and the like.  He was a poultry farmer up in Norfolk - nothing fancy, mind, but he made a good living, enough to support Mum and us three children.  It was nice in them days.  But, like I said, I didn't get much education - well, he couldn't afford nothing fancy.  I reckon you must despise me for the way I talk!"

      "Not at all, Josie.  It's very refreshing!  I can tell you're not a Roedean girl, but that doesn't matter.  What does matter is your integrity and your goodness as a mother."

      Josie pondered over this for a moment.  Then she said:

      "If I could learn to talk like you, would I stand a better chance of getting a job?"

      I said it depended what sort of a job she wanted, adding:

      "Don't tell me you yearn to become a lady in a flower shop?"

      She looked alarmed.  "Why do you say that?"

      "Eliza Doolittle, remember?  In MY FAIR LADY, or PYGMALION?  To be a lady in a flower shop was the height of Eliza's ambition, which is why Higgins took her in and coached her."

      "Yes, but he only done that for a bet!"

      "Nevertheless, he succeeded!"

      "Yes, in a musical fairy tale!  It wasn't real life.  I mean, in the film they had Audrey Hepburn, didn't they, and that Julie Andrews before her.  They already knew how to talk proper - lee!  Do you want to know something?  I'm sick of being despised!  Tony made it plain he didn't want me meeting his friends.  He tried to make out it was just to stop people gossiping about us being together, but I could tell.  He was actually ashamed of me, and the way I talk."

      "Then I'd say he was a snob.  More to the point, Josie, were YOU ashamed?  There's more people in this country who speak the way you do than with BBC accents.  It's no good pretending to be what you're not, no-one respects that!  God knows, my own speech wouldn't give me a passport to the aristocracy.  I couldn't convince anyone I'd been to Eton or Harrow!"

      "Some of them doctors had lovely voices," she mused.  "Even if they didn't know enough to cure my back - they all spoke the way I'd love to if I could copy them."

      In those eager eyes I caught a glint of innocent hope, and I studied her face closely.  "Where did you go to school, Josie?"

      "Nowhere special.  Why?"

      "I just wondered.  What time do you want to go to bed?"

      "And what's that supposed to mean?"

      "Precisely what I said.  What time do you propose going to bed?"

      "The sooner the better, actually - so long as you don't think I'm rude by taking my leave too early.  It's not that I don't like your company - but I'm ready for bed, soon as you like.  And we understand one another, right?  No games, eh?  We each go in separate directions and don't meet up till breakfast!"

      "It's the way I treat all my other guests.  What time would you like breakfast?  Are you an early riser, or more of a dormouse like me?  At weekends I normally surface at around eight-thirty.  How does that sound?"

      "Fine - but Jamie may get other ideas.  Will you be cross if he kicks up a fuss in the night?"

      "I don't see why I should.  I was probably no less unpredictable at his age.  If you need my assistance, just knock.  Mine's the room to the left."

      "Would you get offended if I lock my bedroom door?"

      "Offended, no, but it's not that sort of door.  Stick a chair against the handle if you wish, but I shan't disturb you.  I'm just not that kind of guy!"

      "Oh?  Ah, I see!  That why you're not married, then?"

      "Not at all.  I merely respect my guests privacy, okay?  I value friendship more than sexual gratification."

      "You're different to Sid then.  He'd stop at nothing to get a woman in his bed."

      "Well, I doubt very much whether Sid will find his way here.  What about Tony?  Was he endowed with similar inclinations?"

      "Was he what?  You mean was he one for the old rumpy-pumpy?  I didn't really know him that well enough.  I always admired him from afar, like, till we just kind of came together for a one-night-stand.  We were both drunk as jellyfish, and I don't remember much about it.  I just know I ended up pregnant, and he's the only one who could possibly have brought that on!"

      "And does he know about Jamie?"

      "I told him straight away - soon as I knew - not that he cared."

      Inevitably I turned towards the sleeping child.  "Poor little lad.  It must be awful to discover you've been hatched into this world by people who didn't stop to consider the consequences.  He doesn't look at all like you, does he?  Perhaps he takes after Tony?"

      "Never really thought about it."

      "You surprise me!  Most parents love to argue over which one their child more closely resembles."

      "Then he resembles Tony, not me.  You said you needed to put fresh sheets on my bed."

      Josie accompanied me to the spare room, and stood and watched while I made the bed.  Then I fetched the sleeping Jamie in his make-shift cot.

      "It's best you put him over there," she said.  "I can manage once I get into bed.  It's just difficult for me to bend, you see.  The plain fact is I can't, and that's that!"

      I sympathised, saying it must be very painful.

      "Oh, I keep myself stuffed full of pain-killers," she went on.  "And a year ago they put me in a special corset which I'm supposed to wear all the time, though it digs into me like crazy.  That's the reason I'm longing for bed.  I'm all right, once I'm flat on my back."

      "Well," I hesitated.  "Please call out if you need help!  Good night!"

      For an hour or more I lay awake trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't quite fit.  There was something odd about Josie's relationship with Jamie - she was behaving more like a little girl with a doll.  And she'd left an empty tin of powdered infant milk in the bathroom.

      Josie's cockney accent didn't ring true either, not for someone supposedly raised on a Norfolk farm.  And why had she been so edgy about attracting the attentions of the Welfare state when they surely specialised in helping mothers in distress?

      It was a short news item the following morning that put some of the pieces together - news about an infant who'd been snatched from a local shopping centre several days earlier.  Eye-witnesses reported seeing a young girl with fair hair ...

      I turned.  The fair-haired Josie was standing in the doorway, staring at me.

      "Terrible, that!" she exclaimed.  "Fancy leaving a child out in the cold for ten minutes while his mother went in to buy flowers!"

      Ten minutes?  No such detail had been reported on the news, nor was anything said about flowers.

      "You seem to know more than I do, Josie.  What happened?"

      "How would I know?  It's no good asking me.  You think I was there or something?"

      "You mentioned details they didn't broadcast just now."

      "Must have seen it on the tele then!"

      "In your tent?"

      She turned away.  "A paper then.  I read it in the Sun or the Guardian or some such!  There was newspapers all over the floor, remember?"

      "Josie, I want to help you.  Why won't you trust me?  Listen.  You told me last night you had to wear a special corset for your back, but I don't quite see how you could you have kept it on while you were pregnant.  In fact, I can't help feeling that Jamie isn't your child.  And if I'm right, then somewhere his real mother's going frantic because her own baby's disappeared.  Can you imagine how she must be feeling?"

      Josie retaliated in a burst of red-hot fury.  "I know exactly how she feels!  It's like having your whole world turned numb - everything that matters suddenly snatched away, and it's not fair.  It's just not fair.  I had to find Jamie, any way I could - I just had to ..."

      "Even if it meant stealing someone else's child?  Josie, sweetheart, that's wrong.  It's cruel and heartless, and it certainly isn't fair on Jamie or his mother."

      "Fair?  What's fair?  Is it fair having a husband who beats the living daylights out of a girl every time he comes home drunk?  Is it fair if the only man you ever loved hates the way you talk?  Is it fair that I suffer jarring pains every day for the rest of my life?  If they take Jamie away, I'll kill myself, I swear it, because my life's not worth living!  I've got loads of tablets by me and I can always get more!"

      "Josie, my dear, we've got problems, you and I.  The first thing is to get this little mite back where he belongs.  God knows what harm you may have done, giving him unsterilised feeds, not knowing what he's allergic to.  You're lucky he's still alive!  By rights, you should be punished for what you've done - though I'm not saying it's your fault.  The big question is - do you want my help or not?  If so, I want you to do exactly as I tell you.  If not, I'll have to go straight to the police."

      "They'll probably get on to me sooner or later anyway."

      "We'll see.  I'm more concerned with justice.  Yes, Josie, you've had some raw deals, and maybe later you'll confide in me, but right now Jamie's mother's having a raw deal too, so let's start by putting her out of her misery, shall we?  After that, I'll consider your needs.  You'd better get the baby ready, because the three of us are going for a drive!"

      I coaxed the reluctant Josie and child into the car and we drove in silence back to the derelict house.

      "Now, listen," I said as I pulled onto a patch of grass nearby.  "I'm prepared to play along as long as you promise not to let me down.  For the next hour, you're my girl-friend, okay?  You and I have come to inspect this house, and we've just discovered young Jamie here alone.  I'll go and phone the police, and hopefully they won't ask too many questions!  Will you back me up?"

      "I don't suppose I've got no choice!" came the dull reply.

      "No, Josie, you haven't, not if you and I are to remain friends.  I'll help you all I can, but I'm not prepared to commit perjury!  I just wish you'd been honest with me yesterday, because I've already made the mistake of buying baby-goods a day too soon!  Hopefully no-one will remember!"

      Leaving Josie with Jamie in the car I went to a nearby call-box and phoned the police.  Then I put on my surveyor's hard-hat and waited by the roadside with Jamie in my arms.  Minutes later a police car arrived, containing a burly sergeant and a female colleague.

      "Excuse me, sir," the sergeant began with a disarming grin.  "I assume you're the man who phoned."  He handed Jamie into the care of his colleague, then turned to me with a critical stare.  "Do you mind showing me exactly where you found the child?"

      As we picked our way through the undergrowth, I explained my interest in the property.

      "I had a preliminary look last night," I said.  "This morning I ventured inside and found a tent.  Mind where you're treading, it's none too secure!  The tent could have been here for months, of course - and this place has received plenty of attention from local yobbos, as you can see.  For a start, most of the tiles have been taken off the roof."

      I led the officer inside and up the staircase to the tent.

      "You say you found the child here?" he enquired.  "Facing which way?"

      "I'm not sure - does it matter?"

      "It might indicate whether the culprit was left or right handed.  Was the baby crying?"

      I shook my head.

      "So what made you look inside the tent?"

      "I was curious to know why it was there!"

      "So you did venture inside.  Did you disturb anything?"

      "No, I left the child where he was and went off to report it straight away."

      "Then you decided to return here, disturb the evidence and take your find out to the roadside.  Why did you do that, sir?"

      "He was crying."

      "Was he now?"

      "Yes.  I wanted to do something for him.  It upsets me to think of a child crying alone in a strange house."

      "I see!"  The sergeant's eyes seemed sharp as gimlets.  "You didn't check if the child had a dirty nappy?  You didn't feel like changing it?"

      "Sergeant, I don't drive around carrying a supply of fresh nappies!"

      "No indeed, sir.  Neither would I, except in the line of duty!  So how did you discover it was a male child?  Most men refer to unknown babies as IT.  You're consistently saying HE.  Did you interfere with the child at all - investigate his private parts?"

      "Of course not."

      "Then it was purely a wild guess?"

      "Not entirely.  I spotted a pack of disposal nappies in the bathroom.  I think you'll find they're clearly marked BOY!"

      "I see, sir.  Forgive me.  I take it you don't mind giving us a statement down at the station?"

      As we made our way downstairs, I found the sergeant's lack of conversation disturbing.

      "I was born in this house," I said, to ease the silence.  "I saw it up for sale and felt I had to follow my instincts.  So I bought it."

      "Instincts are often very sound, sir.  Where did you park your car?"

      "Just along the road."

      "Do you mind showing me?"

      Reluctantly I led him to the car where Josie sat gloomily on the back seat.

      "Good morning, madam!" the sergeant smiled.  Then he faced me.  "A family man yourself, I see.  A baby's car seat too."

      "That's right."

      "Empty, though.  Remember what I said about instinct, sir?  I'm now wondering why your young friend is sitting in the back.  Normally I'd have had my girl-friend up front beside me - unless of course she was keeping an eye on a third passenger.  You did say it was this morning you found that baby?  Not last night, perhaps?  Because, someone was seen here yesterday.  Would that have been you, sir?"

      "I certainly came here yesterday - I told you."

      "I remember that, sir.  You see - I'm a frustrated detective, a great fan of Columbo.  I was just wondering if perhaps you and your friend found the child yeaterday and took it somewhere safe overnight.  But then I'd be curious to know why so much time elapsed before you made up your minds to phone us.  Why wait that long - unless you were debating whether or not to keep the child?  You see how my mind's working, sir."

      He even sounded like Columbo!  At his request I lent him the child's car-seat.  He laid a restraining arm on Josie's shoulder as she accompanied him to the other car, and I drove slowly behind them to the police station.

      By the time I arrived Josie had already broken down and admitted everything - how she'd lost her own son a year ago and saw the abandoned pram outside the flower-shop.  She'd stood for several minutes gazing at the infant, then felt an irresistible urge to pick him him up.  Seeing the mother about to leave the shop she'd panicked and fled.  She was deeply sorry for everything and laid the blame on her earlier bereavement.

      "I trusted you!" Josie turned on me angrily as I appeared.  She was red-eyed and tearful, her mouth distorted with grief and resentment.  "You should have left us alone!  I trusted you!"

      Even the WPC looked tearful as they led the kidnapper away for further questioning.  Meanwhile I was left very much in the mire as an accessory!

      "I knew nothing till I heard the news this morning," I pleaded.  "My only thought was to get the child returned to his mother.  Foolishly I hoped I could achieve that without hurting Josie.  Poor kid - I feel desperately sorry for her!"

      "I think you've made that abundantly clear, sir!"

      "What'll happen to her?"

      "A court hearing, naturally.  There's no question of trying to prove guilt.  We all know what happened - so now it's down to the magistrate.  Could be a term of imprisonment - maybe parole - definitely a spell of psychiatry, I'd say.  Anyway, it's out of our hands now, yours and mine."

      I heard a cry of joy, and turned to see a young woman sobbing relentlessly as she took "Jamie" into her arms.  "My baby, my baby!"

      I couldn't help smiling my own joy.   "What's his real name?" I asked.

      "Wayne!" she blurted through happy tears.  "He's my little Wayne!"

      "I came across him in an empty house," I explained.  "He spent the night with us, since I didn't realise he was the missing child till I heard the news this morning.  I'd like you to know he's had plenty of love and attention while he's been away."

      "You know the girl who took him?"

      "I found them both yesterday.  When she told me the child was hers, I naturally believed her."

      "And is she here?  Locked up, I hope?  Because right now, I could kill her for all the agony she's put me through!"

      "I can well understand your feelings.  But who would benefit from that?  I doubt if Wayne wants to see his Mummy arrested for murder!  Besides, the girl has endured a lot of agony herself.  Yours can be set aside now, but Josie's left with a life-long emptiness.  She lost her own baby, you see.  That's what happens sometimes.  Look, I'm the one who found Wayne, and I'm the one who made her return him to his rightful mother.  I ask only that you dig deep into your heart and do me one favour.  Don't press charges, please.  Think of Josie as being a temporary child-minder who gave Wayne her love for a short while.  She made a grave mistake, we know that.  But she meant you no harm.  She's a good kid who's had a rough ordeal.  Be as lenient with her as you can."

      "By heck, sir," said the sergeant, "they could use you in court!"

      "No," I said.  "I've said all I can for the defence.  Now it's time you arrested me for misleading the police."

      "Oh, I wouldn't say we were misled, sir.  Maybe we both got our wires crossed for a while, but as to any conversation that might have passed between us - it's only your word against mine who said what!  And I'm getting old - I've got a shocking memory!"

      Back home, after several phone calls I eventually learned that Josie would appear before a magistrate the following Tuesday morning.  I offered to go and visit her, but was advised against it.

      "She says she doesn't want to see you," the sergeant informed me.  "If I were you I'd sit back and let nature and the law each take their own course."

      I sat in the rear of the court on Tuesday, and heard the magistrate's decision - a fine of eight hundred pounds and a suspended sentence, pending psychiatric reports.  I paid Josie's fine at once.

      She seemed very contrite on seeing me again.

      "I've met the little one's mother," she said.  "She says you tried to persuade her not to press charges.  Unfortunately her husband persuaded her different.  But for him I might have got off."

      "Nevertheless, Josie, you're free to go as you please as long as you keep your nose clean and turn up for those psychiatric appointments.  What are your plans for lunch?"

      "Plans?"

      "Put it this way.  I've just spent eight hundred pounds securing your freedom, so it doesn't seem sensible to let you starve."

      "I suppose now you think you've bought me, lock, stock and barrel!"

      "I haven't bought you, Josie.  I merely made a voluntary donation to a worthwhile cause."

      "They say his real name was Wayne.  I like that."

      "Let's both try and forget about Wayne.  We'll have lunch at my place.  I expect you'd like to be somewhere quiet."

      "Too true.  I felt as if everyone I ever knew was in court, all staring at me with hateful eyes.  Now I'm imagining the whole world knows me, all saying to themselves: 'Look, that's her!'  Daft, eh?  No wonder I need a blooming psychiatrist!"

      "It's natural you feel a bit bruised, Josie.  But let's try and forget it ever happened.  By the way, was that your tent you left behind?  We can go and get it if you like."

      "Later, maybe.  Much, much later.  I couldn't bear it ... not yet."

      "I know," I smiled.  "Come on.  How about cornish pasties?  Do you fancy cornish pasties?"

      She nodded humbly.   Cornish pasties would be fine.

THE END

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Except where specifically noted, all music and stories on this web site are my own creations.   You may not use any of them for any purpose without written permission from me.     Copyright © 2003 Colin Johnson     All Rights Reserved.