You, Me and Him

by Alice Peterson

  ‘Why won’t Jason let me be in his football team then? I want to play.’

  This is what I find so odd. Even after today, George still can’t see how badly Jason has treated him. He will go back to him; he still wants to play on his team because at least Jason gives him some sort of attention, even if it is negative.

  ‘Dad doesn’t think I’m any good at football either. He never plays with me.’

  ‘You’re good at other things, like building your Lego, and you’re a very good swimmer, and do you remember that model you made of the Titanic?’ George spent three hours constructing it. I didn’t understand his explanation of why it wouldn’t sink, but I believed him when he described it so earnestly. ‘No two people are the same, that’s what you’ve always got to remember.’

  ‘But I want to play football. I want Dad to play with me.’

  I try Finn again. His mobile was switched off earlier.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he says when he hears the tone of my voice.

  ‘Can you talk?’

  A chair is scraped back and he says, ‘Excuse me.’ I can hear his footsteps against a marble floor.

  ‘Are you eating?’

  ‘Just dinner with one of the lecturers and Alessia.’

  ‘It’s George. He was hit at school today.’

  ‘How badly?’

  ‘His lip was cut, he’s bruised.’

  ‘Who did it to him?’

  ‘Jason, the one we’ve been having trouble with for ages.’

  I think Finn is almost in tears.

  ‘Don’t worry. Thankfully Clarky was there to break it up.’

  ‘Clarky?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘He was just there. We spent the afternoon together.’

  ‘Weren’t you working?’

  ‘Finn! Does it matter?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you have a quick word with George? I’ll take the phone up to him.’

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there,’ Finn says, so quietly that I can hardly hear him. ‘I should have been there. Poor George. Oh, God, I should be with you.’

  ‘How’s the conference going?’

  ‘Good,’ he replies half-heartedly. ‘Interesting.’

  I hand the phone to George. ‘I’m all right, Dad. I hurt my lip and he hit me in the stomach.’ He listens to his dad. ‘Are you going to die? Jason’s father’s dead. I think that’s why he hit me. I hit him back, though. Am I bad, Dad? I don’t want you to die. Spiderman’s parents died, didn’t they? You won’t, will you?’

  George listens again. Finally he’s laughing. Finn always has this magical effect on him, as if sprinkling gold dust over his hurt. ‘I love you too, Mrs Jammie Dodger. I’ll be all right.’ He hands me back the phone.

  ‘Finn?’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK. Look, you go back to your dinner. Call tomorrow.’ I hang up.

  ‘Dad said you had to switch my brain off tonight, Mum.’

  I press the imaginary button.

  George shuts his eyes and only minutes later he is asleep. I stroke his hair. The time when I love him most is when his face is calm. His arms are raised over his head and he seems at peace. I look at him and can’t imagine my life any differently. I would defend him to my death.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The children start to file out but there’s no sign of George. Since the bullying incident he is even more determined not to go to school. All my physical energy is spent getting him there when secretly a part of me wants to keep him at home, protected. I envy Finn for being away and I envy him for not having to be the parent who drags their son to school, hearing, ‘I HATE YOU,’ over and over again.

  Aggie parks her white van across the road. ‘You did go out with Clarky, didn’t you?’ is the first thing she says to me and the question feels out of place, like a thistle in a bed of roses.

  ‘Hi, Aggie! Nice to see you.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She laughs quickly, clearing her throat. ‘I just wanted to know because …’

  I stop her in her tracks. ‘I didn’t, OK.’

  ‘So there was never a drunken snog, never a fling?’

  ‘What is this? I haven’t had a great time recently with George and I could do without the interrogation! Sorry, Aggie,’ I say afterwards. Why do we always feel the need to apologise after raising our voice? Clarky’s right. They don’t do that in EastEnders.

  ‘I’m sorry about George, I really am, it’s awful, but I need to know. I can’t help thinking Clarky’s hiding something.’

  ‘He’s not.’

  ‘I’ve had one bad marriage, I don’t need another.’

  Why did I ever lie about our one night? One small lie multiplies and what was so unimportant suddenly becomes a major issue. I’m tempted to just tell her, get it over with. Who cares anymore? ‘Uh-oh, here’s Ms Miles.’

  ‘Josie, you’re changing the subject.’ Aggie is still looking at me, as if under a magnifying glass, scrutinising my every expression and piece of body language.

  ‘There’s nothing between us and never has been. I understand your concern, but please stop going on about it, Aggie. There are bigger things in this world to worry about.’

  For once I am pleased that Ms Miles is standing in front of us. The last time she came to the gates she told us that George had spun Eliot around in his wheelchair so fast that he had fallen head first into the badminton nets.

  She clears her throat before announcing, ‘George asked one of the other boys to close the window today because it was cold enough to … “freeze his balls off” I think was the vulgar expression he used.’

  Eliot bursts out laughing.

  ‘El made me do it, Mum,’ George pipes up.

  Ms Miles flinches. ‘Of course he didn’t.’

  ‘Why not? Because he’s in a wheelchair?’ I blurt out, sick of him not being accused of anything, ever. From the corner of my eye I see Eliot sticking his finger up in my direction.

  Aggie turns on me, affronted. ‘Well, it’s true,’ I say. ‘George’s disability is invisible; Eliot’s chair does him a lot of favours. He’s just stuck his finger up at me now, for instance.’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ she answers back.

  ‘Excuse me but he did, and it’s not the first time.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything, Mum.’

  My mouth is wide open. Little horror!

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t, El,’ Aggie says, staring at me frostily. ‘Come on.’ She leaves after a quick goodbye which I ignore.

  I am furious.

  Before Ms Miles can issue a punishment I tell her, ‘Eliot’s language is filthy and he does tell George to say things. So, in future, unless you have something positive to say about my son, I don’t want to hear it, OK? Is that understood?’

  *

  On the walk home I ask George what he ate for lunch today.

  ‘Sausages. I was so good going round the shop that day, wasn’t I?’ he asks again. George has talked constantly about how good he was at the supermarket.

  ‘Yes, you were such a good boy.’ Ruffle of the hair.

  ‘Thank you. They like Eliot at lunchtime because if they push him in his chair they go to the top of the queue,’ George explains to me, ‘and they get chips and ketchup. They like Eliot in school but they don’t like him in the street. There they ignore him or poke him and call him “carrot head”. El’s my best friend. I like him wherever he is.’

  A large part of me is proud to have a son who’s different. As well as petrified. ‘George, don’t run on. Wait!’ I pull him back but he’s seen something and wriggles free.

  It’s in the middle of the road and looks like a squashed hedgehog. ‘STOP, GEORGE!’ I scream now. There’s a car coming towards him and it isn’t slowing down. I run out as fast as I can and grab him by his jumper. ‘Let me go, Mum.’ A car beeps its horn furiously at us as it does an emergency stop.

  I raise my hand in apology. ‘Po
or hedgehog,’ George says. ‘Can we take him home, Mum? Bury him in the garden?’

  The driver winds down the window. There is a build up of traffic behind him now. ‘For God’s sake, can’t you control your son?’ I don’t hear what he says next.

  ‘George, come on.’ I drag him away from the hedgehog and onto the pavement.

  The driver sets off again. I can see him shaking his head.

  I kneel down. Whatever I say today, whatever instruction I give, it won’t make any difference tomorrow. Other children progress, they learn a routine and become more independent by the day. But for George there is no such pattern. He is about to see Dr Nichols to have his height and weight recorded, blood pressure taken, may have a blood test to check his glucose levels, and then we’ll see Sandy the pharmacist who dispenses his Ritalin. But why are we even bothering to do all of this? Nothing makes him better. Oh, Finn! I need you. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do it, can’t do it, can’t do it.

  I grab George and force him to stand still. ‘You NEVER run out on to a road. You could get killed. When will you understand what I’m saying to you? Do … you … understand?’ I shake his shoulders, emphasising each word.

  ‘But I’m not sure if he’s dead or not, Mum. Someone will run over him again if we leave him on the road and then he’ll really be dead,’ George says anxiously.

  I take a deep breath. ‘I know it’s sad that the hedgehog has suffered but I’d rather have a “without doubt” dead hedgehog than a possibly dead George. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’ But he’s looking at a woman walking past us wearing a bright purple skirt.

  I don’t know how to get through to him. ‘Take my hand and don’t let go,’ I tell him as we walk on. He turns round once more to look at the squashed hedgehog. ‘Animals go to heaven, don’t they?’ he asks.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  George and I are sitting in Dr Nichols’s office. Finn is still away at his conference and I’ve barely spoken to Aggie since our spat at school. However, I’m taking George to the pool after this appointment so I’ll talk to her there and clear the air.

  He is quiet during the consultation. Normally he runs around the room, grabbing the stethoscope, listening to the doctor’s heartbeat, pumping up the blood pressure cushion, pulling down the ruler that measures his height. Today he sits with his head bowed.

  ‘How are you getting on at school, George?’ the doctor asks.

  ‘Don’t know.’ He swings his legs under the table. ‘Don’t know,’ he repeats like a broken record.

  I tell Dr Nichols about the bullying. ‘The headmaster is nice, though. You like him, George, don’t you?’

  ‘Mr Phipps sees me as a true person. A proper human being. He’s been helping me with my handwriting, trying to get me not to push so hard on my pencil. I can do it when he watches but when he doesn’t I start doing it hard again, I don’t know why.’ George is shaking his head frantically, still not looking up. ‘I’m stupid. STUPID.’

  Dr Nichols tells him this can’t be the case because his school reports have improved. ‘Mr Phipps gives George a table that faces the wall,’ I explain, ‘with just his own things on it, to avoid any distraction, and he also insists that teachers tap George on the shoulder if they want something rather than shouting at him.’ Another technique Mr Phipps told me about was stating the obvious to George and how this should be applied at home too. We, i.e. the teacher, or Finn, or me, might think he understands what we want him to do, but because so many other distractions buzz around him like flies, he needs to hear it time and time again in order to bring him back to reality where he really hears the instruction.

  Dr Nichols is visibly impressed. It’s the first time we’ve talked about any kind of improvement in the classroom and George’s grades. ‘How about hobbies outside school, George?’

  ‘I’m rubbish at everything.’

  ‘That’s not true …’ But Dr Nichols stops me.

  ‘Mum made me do piano,’ George continues.

  ‘What would you like to do?’

  While George is being weighed and having his height measured, the doctor addresses me. ‘If a child chooses their own hobby, they are taking responsibility. They can’t blame the parent by saying, “It’s your fault, you made me do it.”’

  ‘But George loves his swimming,’ I tell him, ‘I don’t know why he didn’t tell you about that. I’m taking him to his lesson now.’

  ‘He could be nervous,’ Dr Nichols suggests. ‘If it’s something he’s good at, he might be scared he’s going to muck it up, like everything else.’

  *

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ Aggie says from the gallery above the swimming pool. It’s hot and the smell of chlorine is overpowering.

  ‘I had to take George to see Dr Nichols,’ I tell her. ‘He’s been difficult lately, what with the bullying, and he hates school even more than usual.’

  We look at each other awkwardly. Do I say something first? ‘Well, he’s a different boy in the water,’ Aggie says. ‘Look how much fun they have together.’

  I run a hand through my hair. ‘What am I going to do when I have the baby? I can’t get him here then.’

  ‘I’ll bring him,’ she offers.

  ‘That sounded like a terrible hint.’

  ‘I would have offered anyway.’

  ‘Well, I’d love to take you up on it, thank you.’

  ‘Good.’ Aggie bites her lip. ‘You’ve done a lot for me, Josie, so let me do something for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say once more. ‘That’s really kind.’

  We turn to watch them again, tension still hanging heavy in the air. One of us has to say something because we’re both being too polite. I crave to hear Aggie swear. Frédéric is gliding El through the water, George following in his purple goggles. ‘I feel I need to clear the air,’ Aggie says, staring ahead.

  ‘Me too.’ I sigh with relief.

  She smiles now. ‘I do this, you know, have a self-destruct button I press when something too good’s happening. I know there’s nothing going on between you and Clarky, he assured me of that, and you’re happily married, for Christ’s sake. I still find it hard to believe you’ve never dated, but even if you have, what business is it of mine? It’s in the past and it doesn’t matter now. I trust you both. I’m sorry, Josie.’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m sorry too. I don’t blame you, OK. You’ve been through enough, what with your ex-husband having an affair and …’

  ‘He told you?’

  Oh, God. It was going so well … ‘Clarky mentioned it briefly. He didn’t go into it at all.’

  ‘Don’t look so worried, Josie. I would have told you anyway.’

  I breathe another sigh of relief. I’m not sure what’s allowed anymore. I can tell there is another reason why she sounds happier. ‘He wants me to go travelling with him. Wants El and me to join him over the Christmas and New Year break.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ I say, trying not to breathe in the smell of chlorine.

  ‘Isn’t it!’

  I look into her eyes. Her smile is full of hope and the anticipation of a new adventure. It was the smile I wore when I first met Finn.

  *

  ‘Just so you know,’ says Granny’s sharp voice, ‘my grandchildren mean the world to me, especially the one you’ve picked.’ I can hear the kettle whistling in the kitchen. It’s about to boil. Or explode. ‘If you have any intention of hurting Finn then you’d better stop what you’re doing right now, do you hear me?’ She looks firmly at my engagement ring, almost willing it off my finger. The tea trolley rattles into the sitting room, Finn pushing it across the white fluffy rug that looks like snow. Granny sits back in her chair with a sweet smile. ‘Josie and I were having such a cosy chat, weren’t we?’

  I stare at her.

  ‘Cat got your tongue? Do you have a credit card of your own? Do you? DO YOU?’

  ‘That’s none of your business, Granny.’

&nbs
p; ‘IF YOU HURT MY BOY I WON’T EVER FORGIVE YOU.’ She’s laughing wildly, the tea trolley rattling an accompaniment.

  I wake up in a sweat and look around frantically. Is she in the room? Am I going mad? I gulp hard and wipe my forehead. My breathing is unsteady. I wedge the pillow back under my bump. I can’t stop thinking about Finn’s granny. It’s as if she knows my doubts. My thoughts. I don’t dare shut my eyes. Relief pours through me when I realise I’m on my own, it was a dream, that’s all. Finn still sleeps downstairs, as he says I disturb him with my fitful dreams and sleep talking. I wonder how his conference is going? He didn’t call me today and his mobile was switched off when I tried. I close my eyes but hear her voice again. Leave me alone, Granny, I tell her.

  I go downstairs and make myself a hot chocolate. I sit down on the deep red sofa and turn on the light on the table next to me.

  I look at my watch. I pick up the phone and call Tiana.

  ‘Have you heard Clarky’s taking Aggie travelling?’ I stir my hot chocolate.

  ‘I know! Normally he can’t even commit to a second date. This has got to be serious. I think they’re good together.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I breathe heavily.

  ‘You all right?’ she asks.

  ‘Sort of. It’s stupid.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve had Clarky to myself for so long and I have to get used to the idea of sharing him now.’

  ‘You’re bound to feel like that. Everyone knows you’re close.’

  ‘Aggie has been through so much and deserves every bit of happiness with him … I didn’t think I was the green-eyed monster kind. I should be unconditionally happy for them.’

  ‘It’s hard to let go of a friend.’

  I feel a lump in my throat. She’s right.

  ‘I had to let go of you,’ Tiana tells me. ‘It was one of the happiest but hardest things, watching you get married.’

  ‘But nothing changed between us.’

  ‘Of course it did! Not in a bad way but you had George. You couldn’t come out dancing with Christo and me. We saw each other but only for tea or coffee or Sunday lunch. I never told you this but I felt like I was being left behind, that I had no one to attach myself to instead. And you have Finn.’