by Cathy Sharp
‘I’m so sorry,’ Nancy said. ‘Please forgive him, Mary Ellen. He’s not been himself since Ma died in the fire …’ Her voice died as if she couldn’t speak and tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘Please, you won’t tell – will you? I know Terry is silly sometimes, but he’s all I’ve got and I love him. I’ll make him say sorry – and I promise he won’t do it again’
Mary Ellen hesitated, because Terry might not have killed her but he would certainly have hurt her badly if his sister hadn’t come that instant. She knew he’d killed their pet cat and she thought someone ought to know about his wild moods, because surely Terry wasn’t right in the head. Yet she wasn’t a snitch – and she liked Nancy.
‘I won’t tell,’ she said at last as she found her voice again. ‘But you have to do something, Nancy. He’s not right – he’s ill in his mind, isn’t he?’
Nancy nodded, her face pale and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes, he’s ill. I can’t tell Sister Beatrice – but I shall tell Miss Angela. She will know what to do …’
‘Where has Terry gone?’
‘He’ll be hiding somewhere,’ Nancy told her. ‘He used to run off down the Docks when Pa got mad at him – it’s all Pa’s fault. I don’t understand why Terry went for you like that.’
‘It was when I told him he should be locked up,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘His eyes went all funny and then he lunged at me … I didn’t know he would be like that, Nancy. You should tell Miss Angela as soon as you can. Now, I’ve got to go to school and I’m already late.’
‘Yes,’ Nancy said. ‘I shall … but first I’d better go and see if I can find him.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
Billy was whistling as he entered the boy’s lavatories. He’d scored another goal for the school team that morning and he was feeling pleased with his skill and life in general. He noticed that one of the doors had the locked sign on the front but didn’t take much notice, though most of the boys never bothered to lock themselves in. He went into an empty stall and emerged, remembering to stop and wash his hands the way Sally was always telling them to. About to leave the cloakroom, he heard a sound like a sob coming from behind the locked door and hesitated. Another muffled cry made him go to the door and knock.
‘Are yer all right in there, mate?’ he asked, though he had no idea who it was, but kids didn’t cry unless they were in big trouble. ‘Can I help?’
‘Go away,’ a voice he recognised answered. ‘No one cares – they all hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you, Terry,’ Billy said. ‘Are yer sick or somethin’? Why don’t yer come out and talk about it? We’re havin’ plum tart and custard tonight for tea.’
There was a pause, then, ‘You don’t like me ’cos I was rude to that girl …’ Terry sounded sulky and yet hesitant.
‘’Course I like yer, mate,’ Billy said. ‘We all have a barney now and then – but I like Mary Ellen too. Why don’t yer come out and tell me what this is about?’
Terry made a snuffling sound and then opened the door. His face was red and Billy was shocked to see that he had cuts on his arms where his crumpled shirt was rolled up. In his hand he was holding a piece of broken glass and his fingers were bleeding.
‘Were you tryin’ ter kill yerself?’ Billy asked. ‘Nothin’ ain’t ever that bad, mate. Come on, let’s wash yer hand under the cold tap and then I’ll wrap me hanky round it for yer.’
Terry looked a bit dazed, but he held his hand out docilely and let Billy wash away the blood and then wrap his none-too-clean hanky round it. The marks on his arms were not as deep as those on his hands and they’d stopped bleeding.
‘What made you do that?’ Billy asked when he’d finished. ‘Did Sister cane yer – or tell yer she would send yer away?’
Terry looked at him in alarm. ‘She won’t send me away – will she?’
‘She threatened to send me orf once when I played her up,’ Billy said, and grinned. ‘She didn’t do it, though – I reckon she’s a big softie under all them frowns. She ain’t too bad if yer don’t get the wrong side of her. Come on, let’s go and have some tea.’
Terry shook his head. ‘I ain’t hungry. I’ll get Nance to bring me a bit of cake when she comes back.’
‘What upset yer?’ Billy persisted. ‘If I can help yer I will – yer still a mate, Terry. We all ’ave to stick together here, you know.’
‘I can’t remember,’ Terry said, and now there was a scared look in his eyes. ‘I think I did something bad … but I can’t remember what it was.’
‘Well, it’s your loss,’ Billy said. ‘I’m off for my tea – I’m starvin’.’
Terry stared at the door of the cloakroom as Billy barged through it and left it swinging. He wrinkled his forehead as he struggled to remember why he’d run to the toilets and locked himself in. He looked at the bloody piece of glass on the basin and felt puzzled. Where had that come from and why had he cut himself with it?
He tried hard to remember, but it was like a black hole in his head. He knew he’d been in their room waiting for Nance to come back, but he couldn’t remember anything after that until he’d become aware of the blood and the pain in his hand – and then Billy had banged on the door and made him come out.
Billy had been kind to him. He was his friend. Terry wasn’t sure that he wanted to be friends with the other children … he vaguely remembered that there was a girl he didn’t like, but he wasn’t sure why.
Leaving the cloakroom, Terry went up to the room he shared with Nancy and discovered she was sitting on the bed, her hands up to her face.
‘Nance … are you crying?’ he asked. ‘Why are you crying? Is it me? Have I done something bad?’
She jumped up and ran to him, putting her arms about him and hugging him. Then she saw the handkerchief round his hand.
‘What happened?’ she cried. ‘Terry, what have you done now?’
‘I don’t know, Nance,’ he said, and looked at her in distress and bewilderment. ‘I was in the toilet crying and my hand hurt – and then Billy came and washed it for me. I cut myself on a bit of glass but I don’t know how.’
‘Oh, Terry … Terry,’ Nancy whispered, half to herself. ‘What am I going to do with you, love?’
‘Don’t cry, Nance. Please don’t cry. I love you and I don’t know what I’ve done – did I do something bad?’
Nancy looked down at him, studying his face as if she were trying to read what was in his mind. ‘You don’t remember anything – what happened before you ran off and hid?’
‘It’s all muddled up in here.’ He touched the side of his head. ‘Sometimes things go funny, Nance. It’s like a fog behind my eyes and … then it’s like a big black hole and I can’t remember where I am or what I’ve done.’
‘Oh, Terry, my poor little brother,’ Nancy said, and kissed his cheek. He could feel her tears and it made him sad so he put his arms about her and hugged her. ‘I love you so. I’ve got to look after you and protect you, but I don’t know what I should do for the best …’
‘You won’t let that woman send me away, will you? Billy said she was going to send him away once – you won’t let us be parted, will you?’
‘No,’ Nancy said, and her arms tightened about him. ‘I’ll never do that, Terry. I promise you.’
Beatrice sat staring at the papers before her on her desk. She was worried, because Mark had come to see her and told her that he had serious doubts about Terry and she’d dismissed them. If anything unpleasant happened to Terry it would be her fault. She hadn’t wanted to be unfair to another child, because of the incident with Billy Baggins. She’d accused Billy of running off when all the time he’d been forced to help his rogue of a brother – and so she’d wanted to give Terry plenty of rope before she took her decision. However, if Angela was right about him … they could no longer wait and the boy ought to be moved as soon as possible.
She’d seen Terry outside in the garden with the caretaker a few moments ago. If Nancy were in their room, this was possibly
a good chance to speak to her alone. The girl must understand that her brother needed more intense care than he could receive at St Saviour’s.
Feeling reluctant but sure that she was right, Beatrice rose and walked from her office, her heart heavy. Never in all the time she’d been dealing with children had she faced such an unpleasant task. Most disturbed children were difficult, a few could be violent at times, but they usually responded to kindness, and Mark was very good at helping them – as was Mr Markham with his books about the big hairy spider.
They’d never had a child that was seriously mentally ill before. Had the brother and sister been taken to hospital and assessed it was possible that Terry would never have been sent to St Saviour’s. When the police found them hiding down the Docks, they’d seen them as needing a home but virtually unscathed by the fire. However, they were not experts – Mark Adderbury was and his instincts had told him from the beginning that something was very wrong with Terry. Yet even he’d initially been reluctant to use his powers to remove the boy to a secure unit, which meant that if he’d decided to do so now he must be seriously concerned. Beatrice had begged him to wait. In such cases it was so difficult to be certain and it would be terrible to make a mistake … and yet for the good of the other children, Beatrice had to be firm.
Arriving outside the room the brother and sister shared, she hesitated, knocked and then walked in. Nancy was sitting by the window, some sewing in her hands, watching something in the garden. She looked round guiltily and then jumped up, dropping her needlework as she saw Beatrice.
‘I’m sorry, Sister. I was watching Terry. He’s following the caretaker outside, more of a hindrance than a help, but Mr Blake doesn’t mind.’
‘Yes, I know. I saw him. He enjoys doing things with his hands, doesn’t he?’
‘Terry isn’t good with schooling, but he’s strong – and he likes helping with the garden and the firewood.’
‘You are very fond of him, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, Sister. I’ve always looked after him.’
‘I realise that, and I know it would upset you to part with him.’
Nancy looked anxious, nervous. ‘But you said we could keep this room … you said it was all right for me to have cooking lessons and Terry to help the caretaker …’
‘Yes, and I hoped that might work for you both, but … things have reached me, Nancy. Things that worry me. I’m not sure that Terry has been behaving himself as he ought. I’m not accusing him of anything, but I am worried. Do you understand me?’
Nancy was silent, her eyes large and round, accusing. Yet she was obviously listening, waiting in some trepidation for more – as if she were keeping a secret that no one else knew.
‘Mr Adderbury thinks Terry is ill … mentally ill. Because of the fire, you see.’ Beatrice tried to explain as gently as she could. ‘It isn’t his fault, and no one is angry with him, or with you, Nancy, but we feel that your brother needs special care – care we cannot give him at St Saviour’s. It is Mr Adderbury’s opinion, and mine, that he should be moved to a place where he will have a chance to be made well again. Given the right treatment Terry could recover and live a normal life – but he will have to go away for a while …’
‘What happens to me?’ Nancy was very pale, very still.
‘There is a special clinic in the country, where Terry will be looked after by people who will give him the care he needs. You are to accompany him to the clinic so that he is not too alarmed, and there is a children’s home where you could stay if you wish to be near him. You would go to school in the village and visit Terry now and then – unless you wished to return here and go down on the train when you want to see your brother, perhaps every other week or so. St Saviour’s stands in place of a family to you, and the cost of your fares and expenses will be provided if that should be your choice.’
‘For how long must he stay there?’ Nancy demanded. ‘Where is this place – is it a mental home? You’re not goin’ to shut our Terry in a place like that …’ She was white-faced, tense, her nails turned into the palms of her hands. ‘I won’t let you. Pa said he would have him shut in the loony bin but I wouldn’t have let him …’
‘No, no, of course it isn’t an asylum,’ Beatrice said. ‘I promise you, Nancy. Mr Adderbury doesn’t want to do anything like that. He cares about children like Terry and he would not send him to this clinic if he didn’t believe it was for his own good. If he remains here his condition may get worse and Terry might do something bad … something that would mean he was forcibly shut away. It might be too late to help him then.’
Nancy was biting her lip in distress. ‘Why should I believe you? You promised we could stay here – and I can look after Terry. I can stop him doin’ bad things. I can … I will; I promise I won’t let him …’ Nancy broke off, tears welling in her eyes. ‘If you separate us and shut him away from me it will break his heart. I’ve always looked after him – please don’t do this. Please … he doesn’t mean to be bad … truly he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand what will happen …’ Nancy stopped as if she realised that whatever she said it wouldn’t change the decision. She was silent for a moment, then, ‘When – when are you going to take him away?’
‘Perhaps a few weeks, but quite soon,’ Beatrice said. ‘Try not to see it as a bad thing, Nancy. If Terry isn’t treated he will get worse but if he is given the attention he needs in time he may be able to live normally. You might be able to have him home one day, when you’ve got a job and can look after him.’
‘And if he doesn’t get better? He’ll be shut up there for ever in that place … he would rather die.’ She looked desperate. ‘Let me take him away. I’ll find somewhere for us to live – please, just give me a little money to start and you’ll never have to see us again …’
‘Oh, Nancy.’ Beatrice felt her heart break with the pity of it. ‘Do you think I want to do this, my dear? I wish you could both stay here, but I can’t keep Terry – and I can’t let you take him away. You don’t understand, Nancy – your brother could be dangerous, to himself and others …’
‘No, Terry didn’t do it, he didn’t hurt Mary Ellen,’ Nancy cried out in such distress that she was speaking without thinking. ‘He didn’t mean to let the cat die … you mustn’t let them shut him away, please. Please don’t let them hurt him; he didn’t understand what would happen …’
Beatrice felt as if she’d been douched with cold water. ‘I wasn’t accusing him of hurting another child … is that what he did, Nancy? Did you see him … did he attack Mary Ellen? I’ve heard nothing of it. This is a serious matter. You must tell me. If Terry has been violent things must be brought forward …’
Suddenly, the door, which had not been quite shut, was thrust openly violently, catching Beatrice sharply in the back and knocking her off balance. Terry rushed into the room, his face flushed with anger, his eyes wild as he stared at her.
‘I didn’t do nothin’, you old witch,’ he screamed at Beatrice. ‘I hate yer. I hate all of yer and I ain’t goin’ away from Nance.’ He ran at Beatrice, going for her with his hands and feet, biting at her hands as she tried to fend him off. ‘I hate yer all … I ain’t goin’ ter that place …’
‘Terry, stop it!’ Nancy rushed at him, pulling him off as he continued to kick out and scream abuse at Beatrice. ‘Stop it now, or I shall give you a good smack and I won’t look after you.’
Terry went limp, his eyes blank. He was breathing hard but he’d stopped fighting. Nancy threw a look of appeal at Beatrice, tears in her eyes.
‘It’s not her fault,’ she said to him, and there was an air of resignation about her now, of defeat. ‘Terry, you’re not well, my love. You’re going to a special place where they will help you. I shall come with you and I’ll visit all the time – and when you’re better we’ll find a place to live together …’
Terry backed away from her, his eyes going desperately from one to the other like a terrified animal. ‘You don’t love me no more, Nan
ce. You’re like all the others, want ter lock me up. I hate yer all – and I’ll get even. See if I don’t.’
With that he whirled round, rushed through the open door and disappeared down the hall, running as fast as he could. Nancy was pale, anxious, as she stared at Beatrice.
‘I’m sorry for what he did to you. He’s upset because Pa told him he was an idiot and said he would have him put in the loony bin. He thinks that’s where you’re going to put him.’
‘I’m sorry he heard what we were saying. I thought he was in the garden – I’m not sure how much he heard …’
‘I have to look for him,’ Nancy said. ‘I must find him before he does something silly.’ She fled from the room before Beatrice could stop her.
Beatrice stood for a while as Nancy went off in search of her brother. While his attack on her had been no more than an act of childish revenge, Nancy’s blurted admission that her brother had attacked another child was more serious. Mark would have to bring the admission forward, or perhaps make other arrangements until the clinic could take him, if that was still the appropriate treatment. Beatrice felt so distressed that she hardly knew what to think. To her Terry seemed just a frightened, wilful boy but was there a very different personality hiding inside the child?
Finally, she left their room and walked slowly back to her office. The life of a child was in the balance. Beatrice felt no animosity or resentment towards the child that had attacked her so viciously, only pity and deep sorrow. To think that Terry might never be able to walk freely again in the sunlight was a terrible thing and it hurt – it hurt Beatrice to think that she had played even a small part in his descent into the darkness of a disturbed mind. Yet what else could she have done? Nancy had to understand why her brother needed hospitalisation, and she’d tried to keep it from the boy. How could she have guessed that he would return in time to hear what they were saying?
What was he thinking in his confused mind? He’d run off in a show of distress and temper, but there was nowhere he could go – unless he roamed the streets. Beatrice didn’t want to contact the police yet, but she must telephone Mark Adderbury and ask his advice.
