Two
Despite it being May, gusts of cold air made it feel like the approach of winter. In the grounds of Badsworth Lodge the children played on the swings. Usually, there’d be laughter. Today, they were so quiet it made the staff glance apprehensively at one another. Meanwhile, Nurse Laura Parris was determined to work a miracle. Age thirty, blue eyes, wearing casual clothes, strands of blonde hair being mussed by the breeze, she talked into the phone. ‘What happened to Maureen was a tragedy. Everyone here’s in shock. Yes . . . the funeral’s tomorrow. Eleven o’clock. You’re going to authorize permission for Lodge staff to attend?’ Laura paused as the Director of Child Care Services ummed, then tried to add provisos. ‘No, Miss Henshaw. Nobody will use it as an excuse to slip away for a long lunch. Maureen was extremely popular with both children and staff. So, I’ll have your written permission for us to go to the funeral, and that personnel cover will be provided? Pardon? I don’t know how long. As long as it takes to say goodbye to a dead friend.’ She struggled to keep her anger under control. ‘Another thing. Don’t cancel the children’s holiday. Postpone it a few days, but do not cancel. After what happened the children are traumatized. Yes . . . what do you think? There’s bed-wetting, emotional outbursts, bouts of social withdrawal. A couple of teenage girls have been self-harming. Yes, I really do believe that the holiday is essential. Goodbye.’
Laura scanned the children on the swings. Listlessly, they swung to and fro. Their faces were so lacking in normal youthful exuberance they could have been plastic mannequins. A girl of fifteen sat on a bench. She appeared to be scratching an itch on her forearm. Laura knew better. Catching the attention of one of the carers, she nodded to the girl, then touched her own forearm. The carer understood and went to chat to the girl to distract her from inflicting another wound.
A middle-aged man with a security pass clipped to his lapel appeared on the patio. He pretended not to notice the eerie appearance of the children who played as if someone had hit the mute button. ‘Nurse Laura Parris?’ He gave a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m Robert Cole, Human Resources. I’ve come to collect Maureen Hannon’s personal effects. We’re sending them on to her family.’
‘Of course. I’ll take you to her room.’
‘Terrible weather for May.’ Despite pretending to shudder at the cold he lingered on the patio without following Laura. ‘Absolutely arctic. They’re forecasting hailstorms for this afternoon.’
‘Really. I’ll get Maureen’s things before the children go to lunch.’
‘You’re doing amazing work here. It can’t be easy.’
She sensed he was building up to say something of more importance. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’
‘You’ve a boy here—’
‘Several, as you’ll have noticed.’
‘Absolutely.’ He laughed. ‘But they all aren’t as famous as . . .’ He scanned the children, trying to recognize a face. ‘Jay, isn’t it?’
‘Ah.’
‘The Miracle Moses Boy. The newspaper headline still sticks in my mind after, what is it now? Seven years.’
‘The children will be going to lunch, Mr Cole. If you’ll follow me.’
He didn’t follow. ‘So he’ll be eleven now, won’t he?’
‘Mr Cole—’
‘Imagine what he went through. Four years old. A ship full of refugees sinks with the loss of over three hundred lives. There are sharks, storms and he’s there alone. A four-year-old boy in an inflatable dinghy. It makes you think, doesn’t it?’
‘The newspaper must have paid you plenty if you’re prepared to risk your job.’
‘N-Newspaper,’ he stammered. ‘I’m nothing to do with any newspaper.’
‘No?’ Laura glared at him. ‘The guy who came to fix the roof tiles swore he had nothing to do with a television company, but he had a video camera in his tool bag. Something told me he wasn’t going to use it to bang in nails.’
‘I was just intrigued about Jay.’
‘Really.’
‘I am here to collect Mrs Hannon’s personal effects.’
‘OK, do it and get out.’ Laura turned to where a burly man dug a flower bed. ‘Mr Holt, would you do me a favour? Escort this gentleman to Maureen’s room to collect the box on her bed, then make sure he leaves the premises.’
When she was alone again Laura crossed the lawn to where Jay sat on a bench under a tree. The breeze sighed mournfully through the branches. As always, the boy was by himself. Before speaking to him she paused. Laura took pains to avoid having favourites. However, she often found herself thinking about Jay. He always seemed so alone and so fragile. Once a carer commented that he looked like ‘a changeling’. Laura had googled the word. The search had revealed myths about human children being stolen soon after birth by goblins. Then the goblin family replaced the human child with one of their own. It wasn’t a happy fairy story. The changeling child looked different to other children – Jay certainly did with those uncannily large eyes – and brought unhappiness to its human hosts. Bad luck would haunt them. Other children in the household might become sickly. Crops would fail. The parents finding themselves with a changeling substitute might be advised to treat the goblin cuckoo in the midst badly, either by beating, starving or even placing on a shovel and holding over a fire. The theory being the real parents would snatch the changeling child back to prevent further suffering. In order to maintain the supernatural balance the real human child would then be returned to their mortal parents. But Jay doesn’t face the prospect of a he-lived-happily-ever-after ending. She’d been standing behind Jay. He’d not turned back once. When he spoke it took her by surprise.
‘Do you hate me too, Laura?’
Smiling, she sat beside him. ‘Of course I don’t. What makes you say anything as daft as that?’
He regarded her with those huge dark eyes that were wise as they were mournful. She, too, remembered that face seven years ago, when it looked from every television and newspaper in the world. The Miracle Moses Child, cast adrift on the high seas. Three hundred and ninety refugees died when their ship sank in the Atlantic. Only one inflatable craft had been found amid shoals of hungry sharks, and on that craft had sat a solitary boy. All this flashed through her mind in a second, but the look in her eye must have told Jay a lot.
‘Why am I different to everyone else, Laura?’
‘We’re all different from one another.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘That’s what makes us individuals.’
He sighed. ‘I’m too different. I frighten people.’
‘Nonsense.’ She tried to sound cheerful. ‘Now . . . Jay. I haven’t told anyone else this, but I’ve asked my boss to rearrange our holiday.’
He gazed at her. ‘The others are blaming me for what happened to Maureen.’
Air currents whispered through the tree. Laura found herself glancing up into the branches half-expecting to see a frightening face. She brushed the disquieting notion away. ‘Why should they blame you?’
‘You know, Laura. It’s happened before.’
‘Coincidence. Nothing more. Come on, time to eat. There’s apple pie today.’
His eyes became even graver. ‘Maureen knew something bad would happen.’
Laura tensed. ‘Did you say anything to her?’
‘The others told me I was saying her name – over and over.’ Gusts shook the branches. ‘But I don’t remember doing that, Laura. Only what I did later.’
‘And what was that? What did you tell Maureen?’
His eyes became vast, dark pools. ‘I went to her room. I told her I was going to take her for a little walk.’
‘A little walk?’ she repeated. ‘Why would you do that?’
His voice appeared to merge with the breeze. ‘I wanted to make her happy before she died.’
‘It was an accident. Nobody could possibly guess. How did you know that she was going to die?’ She took his hand. ‘Jay, tell me how you knew.’
At that moment a piercing scream rang out. In the play area everyone stopped to stare at the teenage girl who clutched her arm. A boy raced across the lawn toward Laura. ‘Ruth found a knife. She’s cut her wrist again!’