Читать книгу A Dark Secret: Part 3 of 3 - Casey Watson, Casey Watson - Страница 6

We’d agreed to hold off till the Thursday before the wedding to tell Sam that he was to have a night away from us. I had little choice anyway, because I’d had a last-minute wardrobe panic and, after a slightly frantic bout of intense internet shopping, I had ordered three dresses that were due to arrive that day. So it was that, when the delivery man arrived on the doorstep, I deemed it the right time to put Sam in the picture.

‘What’s in there?’ he wanted to know, once I’d signed for my delivery.

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Well, they’re dresses. Because I’m going to a wedding. I’ve got to try them on so I can choose one.’

‘A wedding? What wedding?’ he asked as he followed me upstairs to my bedroom.

‘My niece’s wedding,’ I explained. ‘Which is something we need to talk about. It’s this coming Saturday, and because it’s a long way away, we’ve arranged for you to go on a special sleepover.’

‘A sleepover?’ he asked. ‘Where? Am I not coming with you?’

‘No, love,’ I said, as I lay the parcel on my bed. ‘Like I said, it’s a long way away – a very long way away. So it’s not really fair on you to take you along. It’s –’

‘Why is it not fair?’ He looked crestfallen. ‘Haven’t I been a good boy?’

‘Sweetheart, it’s not about you being a good boy. Which you have been, no question. But it’s not really something I think you’d enjoy. All those people, all strangers. And in a place you don’t know –’

‘I don’t mind. I like strangers.’

This wasn’t going well. ‘I know, Sam, I know, but we’ve decided to arrange for you to have your own adventure. They’re very boring things, weddings, and I’m sure you’d be fed up. So we’ve arranged an adventure for you. Guess where?’

I’d chosen the right word (‘adventure’ being one of his favourites) because now, finally, he at least seemed intrigued. ‘Is it Kieron’s? With Luna?’

I shook my head. ‘No, not Kieron’s. Kieron will be at the wedding with us. It’s –’

‘But why can’t I just come with you? I’ll be a good boy, I promise. Oh –’ Something had obviously occurred to him, because he smiled now. ‘Is it Sampson’s? Am I going on an adventure with Sampson again?’

I slit the seal on the package and the dresses slithered out. I mentally crossed fingers that one of them would fit. There was precious time now to get anything else. But trying them on would have to wait. This was a far more pressing problem.

‘No, love, not with Sampson,’ I said, going over to the wardrobe for hangers. ‘He’s not allowed to have you over. He’s not allowed to have any kids sleep over,’ I added, ‘because of his very important job. Have another guess. Have a think. Where else would you like to stay over? Who haven’t you seen for a long time?’

He was puzzled now, and I could tell he was desperately trying to think. ‘I can’t guess,’ he said eventually, frowning from the effort. ‘Well, there’s Will and Courtney, but they’re not allowed to see me anymore, are they? And I don’t know anyone else, do I? Who is it?’

I wondered who had told him that. Kelly, perhaps? Possibly. Or perhaps someone had said something in the drama of the removal, and he had simply put two and two together and worked it out for himself. I hung the dresses one by one on the back of the wardrobe door, reflecting sadly that, in all probability, he didn’t know anyone else, either. Not in any meaningful sense. One truism about children who came into the care system was that they weren’t usually brimming with caring friends and relatives, after all. ‘Ah, but you do,’ I said, trying to keep the mood light. ‘How about, let me see … Mrs Gallagher, your next-door neighbour?’

‘Auntie Maureen?’ he said, and more confusion crossed his features. ‘You mean I’m going to her house?’

He immediately shook his head.

Now it was me with the confused expression. ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ I said. ‘Your auntie Maureen certainly is. In fact, she’s really excited to be looking after you. She can’t wait to see you. Sam, why the long face? What’s wrong?’

He met my enquiring gaze with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Then lowered his own gaze. ‘I can’t go back to that place.’

I made a mental gear change. I’d obviously touched a nerve with him now. Because this was definitely not the response I’d expected.

I sat down on the bed and patted the space beside me. He climbed on to join me. ‘Sweetheart,’ I said, ‘no one’s going to make you go back there. Not back to your old home. We wouldn’t dream of it. You’ll be going to Mrs Gallagher’s – your auntie Maureen’s. She’s looking forward to seeing you. I thought you’d be pleased,’ I said again. ‘Aren’t you looking forward to seeing her again?’

Now he nodded. Picked at the duvet cover. ‘I s’pose.’

‘So what’s wrong?’

‘I just can’t go back there.’ There were tears in his eyes now. And had it been physically possible, I could have kicked myself. As it was, I could only berate myself, soundly. Of course he was stressed about going back to his old life. To all the sights, sounds and feelings – to igniting memories he was so keen to forget. Because he wasn’t like his siblings, was he? He had all his other challenges. And it really hit me now that, in all the weeks we had cared for him, he’d said almost nothing before this – not to us, not to Colin – either about his siblings or his mother. All we knew for sure was that a ‘bad man’ had scared him and hurt him. That he had, briefly, had a puppy. That he had developed a deep need for his ‘dog cage’. Of his human family, on the other hand, he had told us precisely nothing. They had been the elephant in the room that we’d always stepped around. When the time came, and he was assessed by CAMHS, and (hopefully) allocated a counsellor, they would no doubt make gentle steps to confront that particular element. But for the time being, if Sam didn’t want to talk about his old life then it was central to my job that I not try and make him. To take my lead from him, rather than lead him into choppy emotional waters.

And, here, for only the second time, he seemed to be dipping a toe in.

‘Can you tell me why, Sam?’

In answer, he didn’t speak at first, but snuggled up against my chest. I put my arms around him, feeling his hot little hands against my back. ‘Please let me come with you and Mike,’ he whispered. ‘Please. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good. I don’t want to go nowhere. And you have to look after me.’ His voice began to rise now. ‘You can’t send me away. It’s your job!’

He certainly picked his moment to understand that I had one. ‘Sweetheart,’ I said, shocked by the urgency of his pleading, ‘you’re not going back there. You’ll be staying with your auntie Maureen, like I said. And she told me you used to go and stay with her all the time. That you used to love it. She said you really loved her lemon buns – so she’s going to make some for you specially. She’s –’

He pulled back. ‘But you’re not supposed to. You’re supposed to look after me. I’ll be a good boy, I promise. I could call you Mummy, if you like, so no one will even know I’m not your real kid. Please let me come.’

I leaned back too, touched by both the gesture and the logic. ‘Sam, love, can you tell me why you don’t want to see your auntie Maureen?’

‘I do want to see her,’ he said, crying now. ‘But I told you. I can’t go back!’

He scrambled off the bed then, out of the room, and across the landing to his own room. The door slammed. Then silence. I got up and followed him. What on earth?

I knocked softly on the door. ‘Sam?’

‘Go away! I hate you!’ came the answer.

My thoughts floundering, I hovered at the door for a few moments in case I heard evidence of things being thrown around. I really didn’t know what to make of it all. Was this connected to his autism? No, I doubted it. More likely – most likely – simply a fear of returning. Which was, after all, a perfectly rational response. We had probably been naïve in imagining he’d be okay with it. To be so close to the place where he’d been abused by this nameless ‘bad man’ would, after all, be an enormous challenge for him.

I headed back downstairs, deep in thought, having a major rethink on what we’d organised. I’d clearly been labouring under a misapprehension. That to spend time with his neighbour – who, admittedly, he didn’t seem to have any issue with – would, or at least could, become a positive in his life.

Instead it seemed as if the idea had plunged him off a new emotional cliff. He’d been coping with his traumas by living completely in the moment, and here we were, trying to force him back to the horrors of the past. Perhaps we needed to think again.

But with less than forty-eight hours to go, what were the chances of finding alternative care for him? And even if we did, wouldn’t dumping him with a stranger (which is how he’d see it, no question) just make everything one hundred per cent worse? No, it seemed to me that we had only two choices now. Either we took him to the wedding with us, or I stayed at home. Which I’d obviously have to run past Mike once he was home.

Though I already knew what his thinking would be. So while Sam stayed in his room – where I was happy to leave him, given that he had a lot to try and process – I went rootling in the spare room for something smart for him to wear.

But if I’d been surprised by Sam’s reaction (albeit less so once I’d thought about it) I was even more surprised, when he appeared later that afternoon, by just how much thinking he had clearly been doing as well.

Tyler was home by now, and the pair of us were sitting in the kitchen, having a catch-up about the vagaries of our respective days.

‘Alright, mate?’ Tyler said to Sam as he hovered in the kitchen doorway.

‘Cool,’ Sam replied, then turned immediately to me. ‘Casey,’ he asked, ‘if I go to auntie Maureen’s, how many stars will I earn?’

His look was open and guileless, and because the question was so unexpected, I dithered for a bit before deciding how best to answer. This was such a U-turn and I wasn’t sure quite where it had come from. Or, more importantly, where it might be headed. The last thing I wanted was to drag him there against his will, if to do so would set him back emotionally.

‘Hmm …’ I said, pretending to calculate, but I dithered so long that Tyler clearly felt obliged to answer for me. It was only a matter of seconds but they had obviously seemed to stretch.

‘Oh, a lot, I should think,’ he said. ‘Ten, you reckon, Mum? Twenty? What’s the plan, mate?’ he added. ‘Are you saving stars for something special?’

Sam nodded. ‘But it’s a secret.’ He looked at me once again. ‘And Casey,’ he added, ‘if I go to auntie Maureen’s, can it just be for the daytime? So I’m not gone too long? Maybe Sampson could collect me and bring me home again? I’ll be a good boy till you’re back again, I promise.’

Home again. It made my heart melt. But what was this all about? And was that the answer? To bite the bullet and just drive up and back on the day? I’d yet to speak to Mike, of course, but I’d pretty much decided now that Sam would simply come with us after all. That I’d ask the B&B we’d booked into if they had a put-you-up bed he could sleep on, next to Tyler.

‘Love, we can’t leave you home alone. And, you know, I thought you could perhaps come with us after all. I have to speak to Mike, but –’

‘No, it’s fine,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll be a good boy and go to auntie Maureen’s, and earn lots of stars.’

He really had thought all this through. He was bargaining with me.

‘Well, as I say, love, I’ll have to speak to Mike,’ I said. ‘Let’s see when he gets home, shall we?’

He nodded. Emphatically. Straight-backed, like a little soldier. ‘It’s fine,’ he said again. ‘Auntie Maureen will look after me.’

‘Of course she will,’ I agreed.

‘And I’ll be good, and she’ll play with me. She likes playing with me. She has painting stuff and dinky cars and Lego and all sorts.’ And with that little pronouncement, he trotted across the kitchen. ‘Look, Tyler,’ he said, ‘have you seen how many stars I’ve got? And now I’m going to earn even more. Are there any difficult jobs for me to do, Casey?’

Sam loved his ‘difficult’ jobs – particularly sorting the recycling. But I wasn’t quite so keen on the difficult job I had myself. To decide whether to take Sam at his word. It was just gone eight, and growing dark, and as I pulled the living-room curtains, I was still trying to fathom what was happening in Sam’s head. What had changed. Because something clearly had. Since he’d made his pronouncement, he’d become really chatty about auntie Maureen, describing the games they’d played, the songs they’d sung, the TV programmes they’d watched together, the fairy cakes they’d made and the deliciousness of her lemon buns. Had having time to reflect made him realise he missed her? Had that overridden his fear of re-visiting a place that was so close to his former home?

But then there were the stars, and the secret. I really didn’t know what to make of it.

‘Well, I don’t know what to make of it either,’ Mike said, rubbing a hand over his stubble. ‘He clearly has a plan on, but what? And why? What’s his motivation? Perhaps we should just forget the whole thing and take him with us after all.’

‘I wish I could decide what’s best,’ I said. ‘Because he really seems keen to go now. I’m just really anxious now about him being away from us overnight. What if he has one of his night terrors? I think I might call Christine tomorrow. And maybe Colin, too. Get their perspective on it.’

‘I doubt they’ll have anything to offer that we haven’t already considered, love. It’s your instinct I trust, so whatever you decide is fine by me. And I’m genuinely happy to go up and back in a day if you decide that’s best.’ He grinned. ‘Look on the bright side, it’ll spare the kids the embarrassment of my dad-dancing, won’t it? And it’ll spare you one of your epic Prosecco headaches. And don’t look at me like that. Because that’s exactly what you will have.’

He was right. I rarely drank, so when I did, I always suffered. And I knew my sister would egg me on, too. ‘Or maybe we do just take him.’

‘As I say, it’s up to you, love. On recent evidence, for what it’s worth, I think he’ll be fine at the wedding. When was the last time we had a meltdown? As in a major-maelstrom meltdown? And I don’t for a minute think Donna will mind if he tags along. Nor Chloe – unless she’s come from a completely different planet, she’ll be on Planet Bride, so, chances are, she’ll barely notice he’s there.’

By the time I woke up on Friday morning, I was pretty much decided. I’d feel happier if we simply took Sam with us. But would it mean him missing out on a great opportunity? Because I truly felt a continuing relationship with Mrs Gallagher could be good for Sam. I also knew it might help preserve another connection. An even more important one: that with his siblings, something I’d been thinking about a lot.

I knew the official line would remain the same till Sam was formally assessed – that he was so unstable, and violent, that they were better off without him. And possibly he them – after all, he was down as query autistic, and, as night followed day, there would be an automatic assumption that he’d find it hard to form attachments, and that he might end up in residential care anyway.

But once they saw the progress he’d made, they would surely rethink. It might not make a huge difference – it was likely that, at some stage, they would both be adopted; they were both still young enough, anyway – and if that happened the council would have no control over whether a relationship with Sam would continue. But it was surely worth fighting for, wasn’t it? And all the time he was in foster care, it would still be on the table. And, in Mrs Gallagher, there was an ongoing link which might otherwise cease to exist.