A few months later, and still clinging on to the idea his mother would come for him, he was told he was to be fostered again.
Antonias was already on his guard when he got to the new place. This time, the foster parents were an older couple and, to be fair, they didn’t make him do chores. But they were boring and didn’t understand him.
When Antonias disappeared for a couple of days at a time, to live on the streets and try and find out some information about his mother, they would call the police. Again and again, he was taken back until, eventually, he was returned to the children’s home.
Christmas, there, wasn’t too bad. For the first time in his life he had helped put up decorations, and for the first time since he was small and lived in Italy, there were presents under the tree for him.
Christmastime was a strange time for thinking. It was when he missed his mother most.
Antonias sat alone in his room, and remembered the Christmases they had spent together, standing in Trafalgar Square looking up at the large Christmas tree and listening to the big brass band of the Salvation Army play Christmas carols.
Sometimes he had spent the day alone, if his mother had gone out and left him for a few days. Then she would come back and they would share a burger and look at the shops in Oxford Street, with all their bright Christmas decorations.
Antonias wondered what she was doing now, and if she was thinking about him. He buried his face in his pillow and cried himself to sleep.
NO PLACE LIKE HOME
Antonias had been in care for four years, and was now thirteen. It was fair to say, there’d been some ups and downs. He had been fostered out a few more times, but the foster parents had all sent him back because of his wild behaviour and the police forever being at the door, bringing him back, sometimes drunk.
The confinement of the homes and their rules stifled him; he needed his freedom, and he still lived in hope of finding his mother. It was the last thread of hope he had, although he knew now that his mother was never going to come for him.
He had seen Benny several times over the years, and Benny had sworn to him that he had spread the word.
Antonias had been moved to another children’s home. Following a meeting, the authorities decided it would be better if they moved him away from his old stomping ground, but it wasn’t – it had just fuelled his anger.
Lisa, his social worker, came to see him one day at the home. She liked Antony, he was a good kid, but had lived rough all his life. She felt she understood him.
‘Antony.’ She put her briefcase down at the side of the sofa on which he was sitting. He looked up but didn’t stir; probably another lecture, he thought.
‘An old friend of mine is a foster carer.’
She saw his eyes flash and held up her hand to stop his outburst.
‘Just let me finish. She has seen your file and, if you want to, she’s prepared to have you go and live with her. She’s already fostering a young boy, Jake, he’s about your age.’
Antonias opened his mouth to protest, and again, she stopped him.
‘This is your last chance at living in a home, a proper home, and having more freedom. Not a lot of people want older children.’ She punched his arm and laughed. ‘Especially one like you, with your track record.’
‘No way, Lisa, been there, bought the T-shirt. I’m not going.’ Antonias was fed up with being moved from pillar to post; all he wanted was to be left alone.
‘We could go on a school day, like tomorrow, maybe? I could buy you a burger and you could come with me and take a look, see what you think?’
A day off school appealed to Antony; he hated it there, it bored him, and he was always in detention for fighting. In fact, he spent more time in detention than he did in school.
‘You promise you’re going to buy me a burger?’ he said. ‘What if I meet her and I don’t want to stay? Anyway, she’s already got one kid, why does she want another?’
‘Jake is being fostered because both his parents were killed in a tragic car accident. He’s very shy and not as strong-willed as you. Will you come?’ Lisa was smiling now; the thought of a day off appealed to Antony, and she knew that.
What she didn’t tell him was that Elle, her friend, specialized in problem children, children with all kinds of problems, be they mental or physical.
***
Next day, at the visit, Antony sat in the lounge looking around the room, bored, while Elle and Lisa had a cup of tea and talked. Elle had already read Antony’s file and had expected his disinterest, after having been rejected so many times before.
‘Well, Antony, would you like to come and stay with me and Jake?’ Elle asked.
Antonias shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t care, he knew in a matter of a couple of weeks he would be back at the children’s home, anyway, so there was no point in getting excited, was there?
‘It’s about choice, Antony,’ said Elle. She ignored Lisa and spoke directly to Antonias, like an adult.
‘It’s your choice, you’re nearly fourteen, you can make your own decisions.’ She saw the look on his face; he was confused. For once he wasn’t being talked about, he was being spoken to.
‘I’m willing, if you are, makes no difference to me. But I’m not doing your cleaning, and I do as I please,’ Antonias said. He looked at Elle, his chin stuck out and his look defiant. His blue eyes glared at her.
‘You put your dirty clothes in the wash basket on the landing; you go to school and you don’t play your music too loud. Deal?’ Elle felt this was enough to be going on with.
‘You’re like all the others, just want the money for letting me live in your shitty house. And who’s this other kid you’ve got here?’
Elle knew he was trying to shock her; she’d seen it all before, and worse. She saw Lisa was going to intervene, and stopped her.
‘It isn’t much of a house, Antony. Can I call you Antony?’
He nodded.
‘But it’s home to me, and yes, I do get paid. Like any other parent, I get benefits for feeding and clothing you. As I say, it’s your choice. Jake is at school.’
Antonias didn’t understand this woman, she was asking permission to call him by his name, and nobody had ever done that before.
He nodded. ‘Okay, I’m willing to give it a go, if you are, but I warn you, I won’t take any of your crap.’
Elle smiled at him. ‘Okay, then, move in when you’re ready. I’ll be here, in my shitty house,’ she added.
Antonias wanted to laugh. He liked this woman; she was straight, and funny. Maybe he could live here. He had yet to meet this other kid, Jake. Lisa had said he was shy; well, Antonias would soon show him who was boss.
When Antonias went to the bathroom, Elle and Lisa looked at each other and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ Lisa mouthed to Elle, so that he didn’t hear her.
***
Jake was a boring kid. They had said he was quiet, but bloody hell, he didn’t open his mouth! He stayed in his room, went to school, did his homework, and seemed to walk around all the time with his head down.
Antonias had been ready for a fight, but fighting that kid would have been like kicking a puppy.
After a week, Antonias decided to skip school and go and see what was happening on the streets. Oh, well, he thought, why change the habit of a lifetime?
Elle called the police, then sat in her dressing gown, waiting for news. She knew Antony had a history of running away, and she had expected it.
He had started off okay, and even though he had dropped his dirty clothes on the floor next to the wash basket on the landing, rather than putting them in it, she felt at least he had made some effort.
The police found Antonias drinking a bottle of wine with some ‘friends’, in a shop doorway. They finally brought him home in the early hours of the morning. He was the worse for wear and swaying back and forth.
Elle opened the door; he was shouting what sounded like angry swear words in Italian at the police, and then at El
le.
She thanked the police officers, who had asked if she was okay and would be able to cope with Antony. It made her laugh to herself that they actually knew him by name.
Elle helped Antony up the stairs; he was still shouting and waving his arms about. Then she noticed something in his jacket pocket: her purse. He had stolen her purse out of her bag.
She acknowledged that she should have been more careful, that it was her own fault for leaving her handbag lying around and her purse accessible.
She lay him on the bed, in his clothes, and then suddenly he sat up and vomited all over her and the bed. He seemed to think that was funny.
‘Serves you right, you money-grabbing bitch, you get paid for looking after me, you can clean it up,’ he said.
Elle turned and left the room. There was no point in arguing, he was too drunk; let him sleep it off.
The school was constantly telephoning her, asking her to come and collect Antonias because he had been fighting again, and shouting at the teachers.
Elle went to see the head teacher, a woman she knew well from all her years as a foster carer. She was an older woman with stone grey hair. Many difficult children had passed through her hands, and she had always given them a second chance.
‘I’m sorry, Elle,’ the head said, ‘but we don’t want Antony here. We’re going to expel him. He needs some kind of special school, for anger management.’
Elle was shocked. ‘Please, Mrs Anderson,’ she said, ‘I know he’s a little wild, but it’s all he has ever known – how to fight to survive, always being on his guard. Suspend him for a week, if you like, but I’m begging you, give him another chance.’
‘You know I don’t give up on children easily,’ the head said, ‘but Antony is the most disruptive child I’ve ever known.’
Elle pleaded his case, explaining what he had been through and what another rejection would mean.
Finally, Mrs Anderson gave a deep sigh. ‘Okay, one last chance, Elle, and only because it’s you. One more step out of line and he’s out. I understand boys fight, but he’s lashing out at the staff, as well.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Anderson, I appreciate this. He just needs to settle in, that’s all, thank you.’ Elle stood up and left the room before Mrs Anderson could change her mind.
God knows, thought Elle, as she got back into her car, how I’m going to get through to Antony about all this. I hope I wasn’t wasting my time, in there.
***
When Jake came home from school, he had another black eye starting to bruise up. Elle could tell he’d been crying. He dropped his backpack and ran upstairs to his bedroom.
Poor Jake, Elle thought to herself. He’d taken a back seat, lately, while she had concentrated on Antony. Jake had come to live with Elle after his parents had been killed, as there was nowhere else for him to go. He’d hardly spoken since he moved in, and had become increasingly withdrawn. He’d started to wet the bed frequently, too. She wiped the flour from her hands with a tea towel and went upstairs.
Jake was sitting on his bed, looking at the floor, crying. Elle put her arm around his shoulders and rested her head on his dark hair, and gave him a minute.
‘What’s up, Jakey, love?’ she said, when she sensed his tears were starting to dry up. ‘Is it the big boys, again?’ Elle knew he was being bullied at school and had been in a number of times to discuss it with the head teacher. It had stopped for a while, but then started up again.
Jake seemed to be a prime target for bullies. Elle had thought having another boy in the house might just help him come out of his shell, but it hadn’t happened yet.
‘You promise you won’t tell the teachers again? That’s why they do it, Elle, because you tell on them and get them into trouble.’ Jake started sobbing, and Elle opened her arms and held him.
‘If that’s what you want, Jakey, love, but if it gets worse, you must tell me. Okay?’
Elle knew she had to help him, but she wasn’t sure how. Maybe her constantly wanting discussions with the parents of the bullies had made it worse. Time would tell. She left him in his bedroom to cry it out and went downstairs to finish the steak pie she was making for dinner.
Elle looked at the clock. Antony hadn’t come home again, he was doing another one of his escape acts. This time, she didn’t call the police. She decided she wasn’t going to inform them and let Antony be picked up and brought home like some hero.
No; whatever was out there, that he needed to see so desperately, let him get on with it, get it out of his system. Maybe, like Jake, time would tell.
Three days later, she had no choice but to telephone Lisa; Antony was still missing. She knew she would be in big trouble and that it had been the wrong thing to do, leaving his absence unreported for three days.
Damn! No sooner had Elle put the telephone down than Antony walked through the door. He was filthy, his clothes torn and bloody, he had obviously been fighting. He stank of alcohol and tobacco, and it was blatantly obvious he had slept on the streets.
Antonias looked at her. His face had a snarl on it, and he was just waiting for a lecture.
‘I’ll go and pack, shall I?’ he said. He was certain she would send him back to the children’s home. He started to make his way up the stairs, stomping his feet hard on every one. He looked up and saw Jake, with his black eye.
Antonias turned around and looked down the stairs towards Elle.
‘What’s happened to pissy-pants, here? Have you been hitting him?’ He raised an eyebrow, a cocky look on his face. He pushed Jake out of the way and went into his bedroom, then took out his case and started packing.
‘Antony,’ shouted Elle. She wasn’t going to give up this easily. ‘Dinner’s nearly ready, get cleaned up and come down, will you? I’m about to serve up.’ She walked back into the kitchen.
Yet again, Elle had surprised Antonias; he hadn’t expected this. The other foster carers had gone crazy, shouting and screaming at him for making their lives hell, then rang the social worker right away to take him away. Normally, they had to give twenty-eight days’ notice, but in some circumstances the authorities had no choice but to remove kids straight away.
Antonias stopped packing and went into the bathroom to wash his face and hands; he would wait for Elle’s outburst later. He went down and sat at the dining table. The food looked good; he hadn’t eaten properly in days.
After dinner, Jake went back upstairs and disappeared into his own world again.
Elle started stacking the dishes, intending to do the washing up. ‘Are you going to help me, Antony?’ she asked. She was very calm and was making herself busy clearing away the plates and acting as normal. She knew this reverse psychology would puzzle Antony.
Antonias picked up a tea towel and automatically started drying the plates.
‘I had to tell Lisa that you were missing, today, it was your third day and I was worried. It’s okay, though, I’ve telephoned her and told her you’ve come home again, but I think you and I need to talk, don’t you?’
Elle carried on washing up; she didn’t want to make this sound like a lecture, but more of a chat.
‘What’s happened to pissy-pants up there?’ Antonias asked, avoiding meeting Elle’s eye.
‘He’s being bullied at school and he doesn’t have your strength to fight back. I’ve spoken to the teachers, but I just seem to make things worse. Maybe I should think about moving him to a different school,’ she said. She knew he was avoiding the issue, but at least he was talking.
Antonias finished drying the plates and, together and in silence, they put everything away. Elle then walked out of the kitchen and along the hall, past the lounge, to the front door. She opened the door.
‘Antony, do you see this door?’ She swung it back and forth. Antonias stood in the hallway and watched her. His brow was furrowed and he wondered what she was doing. Elle then closed the door, walked into the lounge and sat down in her favourite chair. Antonias followed, and she indicated he should
sit on the sofa, opposite her.
The lounge was bright and airy, and the floral curtains and comfortable suite made the lamplit room seem cosy and friendly.
‘We’re going to have that talk now, Antony. Don’t interrupt me, because when I have had my say, you can have yours, deal?’
Antonias thought Elle looked friendly enough, she wasn’t scowling or shouting, just acting very oddly. Still, he was ready for his lecture. He nodded.
‘Firstly, as I have shown you, this is not a prison. That front door opens and closes. However, I would appreciate you letting me know that you are safe and not just wandering off without a word.’
Antonias’s piercing blue eyes stared at her face. He looked like he was about to speak, but stopped himself.
Elle paused, and watched Antonias wring his hands, while keeping his poker face.
She began again. ‘I know you stole my purse last time you went missing, and when I checked it after you had fallen asleep, twenty pounds was missing. So, let’s just say you “borrowed” that twenty pounds and you intend to pay it back out of your allowance, okay?’
Antonias’s face went bright red; he had been caught out, he should have got rid of the purse. For the first time in his life he felt ashamed. He looked down at the floor, not knowing what to say; he bit his bottom lip.
‘I don’t know what’s out there on the streets that you find so fascinating, but I’m prepared to listen. Or, maybe I should say, who is out there that you’re looking for, and are prepared to risk your life to find. If that’s the case and you are looking for someone, I’m prepared to drive you around the streets and maybe you could show me a thing or two, eh?’
She smiled at him; she didn’t want this to seem like a scolding. She could see Antonias was a very troubled boy. She had read his file and it seemed obvious to her that he was searching for something; no one would get themselves into all kinds of trouble like he had for no reason. She was right, she knew, because at her words, Antonias’s face shot up and his eyes looked directly into hers.
Dangerous Games Page 5
