by Sibel Hodge
I tried to swallow away the hard knot in my throat.
He leant forward on his elbows. ‘I’m sure you’d like to be adopted one day, wouldn’t you?’
‘Y-Yes, sir.’
‘Well, who do you think some prospective adoptive parents would choose, hmmm? A good boy, one who gets his head down and follows the rules, or one who is unruly, undisciplined, and prone to telling lies?’
‘A good boy,’ I whispered.
He gave a pleased nod. ‘Exactly. And who do you think chooses which boys these prospective parents get to see?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Me.’ He paused for a moment. ‘You can see what I’m getting at here, can’t you?’ He carried on without waiting for an answer. ‘Not only do good boys at Crossfield get the chance to meet possible new parents, but I also like to reward good behaviour with special privileges, like day trips.’ He flashed me another smile. ‘Next week I’m taking a group of well-behaved lads on a trip to the country. We’ll be swimming in the river and playing games and taking a packed lunch. If you follow the rules here, if you’re good, you too can get to do things like that.’ He paused again. ‘Do I make myself clear?’
I could only nod mutely as the weight of his words crushed me.
‘Good. Now go back to the dorm and think on your behaviour.’ He picked up his pen and turned his attention back to his paperwork.
I rushed upstairs as fast as I could. The dorm was empty when I got there, and I sat on the windowsill, watching the other boys outside during free time, my arms wrapped around my knees for comfort.
I thought about running away, but where would I go? I was ten years old with no family and no money. Trevor had run away a couple of weeks ago and was brought back by the police when they found him stealing apples from a greengrocer. Billy saw him dragged into Barker’s office, but no one saw him again for two days. There were whispers that he was down there in the cellar with Scholes. When Trevor finally reappeared at dinner time, he was walking like a hunched, broken old man, and he couldn’t sit down properly for a week. He didn’t say a word to anyone for days, and even when he did finally speak, he never let on what had happened.
I was so lost in my worries that I didn’t see Billy enter the dorm until he was right beside me.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his eyes not quite meeting mine.
I dug my fingers into my palms to stop the tears coming.
‘Did Scholes put you in the cellar?’
I nodded. ‘He dunked me in the bath. I thought he was…going to kill me.’
He stared out of the window, his voice a quavering whisper. ‘You’re lucky that’s all he did. When he does the other things, you’ll wish you were already dead.’
I wanted to ask what he meant, but I was too late. He’d already turned and walked away, his head down, his shoulders slumped.
When I arrived at school on Monday morning, Miss Percival called me into her classroom before school started.
‘I had a very long chat with Mr Barker, and he assured me there have been some misunderstandings,’ she said. ‘I wanted to make sure that what he said was correct. Have you been making things up to get attention? Or as an excuse not to do your schoolwork?’ She looked down at me, and I couldn’t meet her eyes.
‘Yes,’ I said, because I knew Scholes and Barker controlled everything. No one would adopt me if I didn’t keep quiet and do what they wanted. No one would take me away from there. No matter how nice someone seemed, I couldn’t trust them to help me. If Scholes or Barker found out I’d spoken about what happened there, they’d make things a million times worse for me.
So I was trapped, with no one to talk to and nowhere to run. This was my life. My prison. And the only thing I’d done wrong was being born.
MAYA
Chapter 7
I grabbed Jamie’s box of files from the spare room. If he was having some kind of ‘personal’ problems, then that could surely mean only a few things. Financial. Emotional. Relationship problems. Work. Well, he hadn’t been depressed, and we weren’t having any relationship issues, unless…had Jamie been having an affair? Is that what he’d been so secretive about?
No. I pushed the thought away. He wouldn’t do that to me. I knew he wouldn’t. So that left work and something financial.
I flicked through the A4 folders, reading the labels written in his neat, precise handwriting: Mobile Phone, Credit Card, Household Receipts, Insurance, Vehicle Documents, Bank Statements.
But something was wrong with that. The mobile phone bills were on top because I’d had them out to look at them, but the credit card bills were next, in the exact same place where I’d found them the night I was searching for Paul’s number. In fact, none of them were in alphabetical order anymore, how Jamie always kept them.
What did that mean? Anything? Nothing?
And why were the last three months’ itemised mobile phone bills missing, even though I’d seen them arrive? Had he thrown them away? Was there something he didn’t want me to see on them? Someone he’d been calling that he didn’t want me to know about? Was there really another woman?
Again, I dismissed the possibility.
I flicked through the rest of the monthly phone bills. All the other months’ bills were there, going back to two years ago. I’d already checked through them when I was looking for Lee’s number, but I scanned the numbers and names again and didn’t notice anything odd. There were lots of calls between Jamie and me and Jamie and Paul. He’d spoken to the leisure centre, his bank, his insurance company, British Gas, and a telemarketing company who were probably selling something. Just ordinary, everyday calls. No weird names or numbers were listed that I couldn’t account for, but had there been on the bills that were missing?
Then I went through his bank statements and credit card bills. Before I’d moved in with him, we’d agreed I would pay half of the bills, and that’s exactly what they revealed. Debit card payments for petrol and Amazon for his books, his council tax. Other bits and bobs that were everyday items. He hadn’t taken out any big loans and hadn’t had any debts. In fact, his savings account was in credit by twenty thousand pounds.
I went into our bedroom and opened the wardrobe. The sight of his clothes crushed my insides, but I had to keep looking. Had to find an answer.
I went through his pockets, but nothing was in any of them except a few pieces of fluff. My gaze scanned his work shoes, his trainers, and his walking boots caked in dried, muddy clay.
I sat on Jamie’s side of the bed, going through his bedside drawers. The first one just had socks and boxers in it, but I pulled them all out and spread them on the bed. His socks were paired, the tops folded down, turned into a neat ball. I unfolded every pair to check for…I didn’t really know what, but nothing was hidden inside. The second drawer held neatly folded T-shirts.
I tried the bottom drawer.
The first thing my eyes homed in on was a small jewellery box. It was a deep green and had the words Freyer Jewellers on it. My hand hovered over it before I plucked up the courage to look inside.
I flipped it open. It was stiff. New. And inside was a white-gold ring with a row of stones, alternating blue topaz and amethyst.
My breath caught in my throat.
Just before I’d moved in with Jamie six months ago, we were out shopping on a lazy Saturday afternoon, our arms round each other, leisurely wandering around town, and he’d stopped outside Freyer Jewellers. He pretended to be looking at men’s watches while I examined the ladies’ rings. I could see him watching me out of the corner of his eye before he stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder, peering through the window.
‘Which kind of stones do you like?’ he asked, and something in his voice made me just know why he was asking.
My heart fluttered with excitement. I met his gaze in the reflection of the window, my face lighting up with a smile to match his.
‘Diamonds? Isn’t every
woman supposed to like them?’
I laughed. ‘I’m not every woman.’
‘So what’s your favourite?’ He squeezed me tighter.
I pointed at a ring. ‘That one. It’s beautiful.’
I stared at the box in my hand now as a sense of despair and loneliness seeped into every fibre. He’d bought it for me. This was the surprise he’d been talking about. I hadn’t been imagining things, had I? He really had intended to propose.
You’ll love what happens after dinner.
Except…You don’t do that, do you? You don’t buy the ring. You don’t talk about a surprise on our anniversary. You don’t do that and then kill yourself eight hours later. You don’t plan on having a future with someone when at the same time you’re planning on having no future at all.
Again, I thought of the unusual scent in the house that day when I’d returned. The things that were out of place. They were subtle movements. Things that probably no one else would have noticed. I only did because of how ordered Jamie was about everything. What if someone else had been in here and searched through things, replacing a few items in the wrong way? But why? Were they looking for something Jamie had?
I thought of the laptop. What if it hadn’t crashed or had a virus? What if it had been wiped clean for some reason? Had Jamie deleted everything on there or had someone else?
Or was I just being paranoid?
JAMIE
Chapter 8
We were eating lunch one weekend with Scholes patrolling up and down the refectory with an angry scowl when Barker came in. He stood in the centre of the room and clapped his hands together loudly over the din of scraping plates.
He looked around the room, that smile of his in place, making sure he had our attention before speaking. ‘After lunch you will all carry out your cleaning duties as quickly as possible and come into the common room.’ And with that, he left, giving us no further information.
‘What do you think’s going on?’ Trevor whispered to me as we dried the dishes.
‘I don’t know. It can’t be anything good, can it?’ I snapped. I’d given up hoping for good news of any kind. It hurt too much.
Eventually, we filed into the common room, where other boys were already waiting, a whisper of nervous tension filling the air as we lined up at the front. Then Barker arrived, closely followed by Scholes, who was carrying a clipboard.
‘This afternoon we have a couple arriving who want to adopt a boy.’ Barker walked up and down in front of us, his hands clasped behind his back, not looking at anyone. ‘It’s up to me to direct these prospective parents to those of you who’ve obeyed the rules and who’ve shown exemplary behaviour.’ He stopped, his gaze sweeping over us. ‘I will be calling out the names of a select group of ten boys I think will interest this couple. If you hear your name, stand next to Mr Scholes, and you will be taken to meet them. They will spend some time chatting to you, getting to know you a little better, before making a choice of who they wish to spend further time with prior to starting the adoption process.’
A ripple of excitement in the air was palpable. My heart pattered in my chest. The thought of meeting prospective adoptive parents—the possibility of being chosen, of getting away—was almost too much. For the first time in a long time, there was hope. I nudged Sean and Trevor, who stood next to me. Their smiling faces and sparkling eyes matched mine.
Barker took the clipboard from Scholes and began reading names, pausing between each one. My stomach lurched as I willed my name to be the next one, or the next, or the next. One after the other, the boys called out broke away from the group, ecstatic smiles on their faces.
When nine boys had been chosen, Barker walked up and down in front of us again slowly. He stopped in front of me, grinning.
My pulse thumped in my ears, and sweat pricked on my palms.
Say it’s me! Say my name! It must be me!
I swallowed hard as Barker’s gaze drilled into me.
I stopped breathing. My heart threatened to explode in my chest.
Then he looked at the boy behind me and said his name.
The food curdled in my stomach. I swallowed to keep it inside, a sudden dizziness making me wobble on the spot.
‘For those who haven’t been chosen, better luck next time, eh?’ Barker said. Then he led the lucky few out of the room, oblivious to the crushing pain in my heart, the devastation hitting painfully, destroying me from the inside out.
I hated those other boys then. Hated them for being given a chance in this Russian roulette. Hated their smiles of joy and their pathetic hope. Hated myself, too, for being me and not one of them.
~~~~
A week after that, Barker came for me. I was with Billy, Sean, Trevor, and Dave outside in the grounds of Crossfield during free time. They were rambling on about superheroes and who was the best one. Would Superman beat Batman in a fight? Who had the best superpowers? I sat on the sidelines, unwilling to join in. It was a stupid, pointless conversation. I’d become even quieter and more insular during my time at Crossfield, hardly speaking much. Instead, I buried my head in the books I found in the common room. It was one of the few times I could escape my life. Escape who I was. And I dreamt a lot about running away. Even though I knew it was futile, it was the only little piece of hope I could cling to. But I liked our little group of friends, and I didn’t want to be alone. I hoped there was safety in numbers, but that was just wishful thinking.
‘Barker’s coming,’ Dave whispered as I used a stick to draw a picture of a bird in the dust.
I didn’t look up. Better not to draw attention to myself. Instead, I carried on perfecting the bird’s wings. I didn’t know what kind it was. It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to be that bird. Fly far away from here and never come back.
‘Ah, Taylor.’ Barker’s feet appeared in front of me. ‘I’ve got something to show you. Come with me,’ he said gently.
I tried to block out his voice and carried on with my creation. If I ignored him, maybe he would go away. I wanted to press my hands to my ears and close my eyes so it wouldn’t be happening. ‘I’m okay, sir. I don’t want to see anything,’ I mumbled.
He laughed. ‘I don’t think you understand, Taylor. It wasn’t a request.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on. You’ll like this.’
But I wouldn’t. I knew I wouldn’t.
I took his hand, and he pulled me up as terror shook my insides. He placed a hand around my neck, guiding me to his quarters, which was a small red-bricked house to the left of the main building. All the while, his thumb caressed my skin.
It was dark inside. Heavy brown curtains at the windows, a brown carpet, oppressive green-painted walls. The sofa was green corduroy, sagging in the middle. The furniture wooden, shiny with age. The smell of cigarettes and musty sweat was stifling.
‘Now, I bet you’d like to watch a film, wouldn’t you?’ He smiled at me.
I glanced at him uneasily. We only got to watch a film on a Sunday afternoon in the common room. For a while I could immerse myself in them, pretending I was one of the characters—a cowboy, a detective, a boy with a dog called Lassie. Anyone who wasn’t me. So for a moment, I thought maybe Barker was just being kind, and I relaxed and nodded.
‘Good.’ He smiled down at me. ‘How about a drink first?’
‘Thank you, sir.’
He left me in the lounge, and my eyes darted to the front door. I wanted to escape, knowing something was about to happen but not sure what.
When he returned, he had two glasses of amber-coloured liquid. He sat down on the sofa and patted the material next to him. ‘Come on, then. Sit yourself down.’ He pressed a remote control, and the TV sprang to life.
I sat down, and he handed me a glass. He moved closer, watching me intently. I took a sip and wriggled a little further away from him.
The taste was bitter, and I scrunched up my face. I’d never had anything like it before.
‘It’s beer.’ He leant over and whispered in
my ear cheerfully, ‘I bet you’ve never had beer, have you, lad?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Well, drink up. You’ll enjoy it.’ He patted my thigh. ‘So, how are you settling in now after that nonsense with your teacher?’
I want to die. I hate it here. Please leave me alone.
‘Answer me, then.’ His hand inched along the back of the sofa towards me. I stared at it. Imagined myself breaking the glass I held and stabbing him with it. Imagined the blood spurting out, hoping he’d bleed to death.
‘It’s…nice here.’ I almost choked on the words and gulped some more beer as he asked more questions. I didn’t like the taste, but I liked how it made me feel, calmer, more relaxed, more blurred.
He unwrapped a bar of chocolate. My mouth watered in anticipation. I’d never had chocolate or sweets since being in my real home, and I craved the sugar on my tongue.
‘Would you like some?’
‘Yes, sir.’
He broke a square off and put it in my mouth. I sucked on it greedily.
He got me another drink as the film carried on, but I couldn’t tell what I was watching. I couldn’t concentrate. I drank the next beer quicker. The room swam, and I suddenly wanted to go to sleep. He told me how much he liked me. How he could single me out for special treatment. How I could get nice things if I carried on behaving well. How I could be chosen to meet the next set of adoptive parents.
Then the room was spinning a lot more. Barker stood up and moved to the front door. He locked it then slowly walked towards me. ‘Now, James, I think you should prove just what a good boy you can really be.’ He sat down next to me and slid closer.
I didn’t resist. What was the point? I would have to do what they wanted, when they wanted, because there was no way out. And if I tried to fight it, they would just make it more painful. I was powerless to stop them.
