Chapter 3

Tuesday 21st June 1983

On Tuesday morning I was woken by the house phone before my alarm went off, which someone answered. Then there was a knock at the door.

“David, it’s your mother on the phone,” came Kim’s voice.

I put on my dressing gown and went to the phone on the landing.

“Hello, Mum?” I said. “Problem?” I knew she would not be phoning so early unless there was a crisis at home.

“Davey, Craig was in a police cell overnight,” she said. “He’ll be released on bail this morning until tomorrow.”

“What’s he done this time?” I asked her with no small measure of resignation. From puberty onwards Craig had been a tearaway, always in fights, having had previous brushes with the law: shoplifting and petty theft. He was two years younger than me. Old enough to tone things down a little, I thought without much hope.

“He’s seriously hurt some lad In a pub brawl last night. Mind you, he’s a bit the worse for wear himself.”

“Mum, he’s nearly twenty two years old. He’s an adult. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Could you represent him in court?”

I sighed. “Does he want me?” Craig and I were always arguing, and were not usually on good terms.

“He’s really worried this time. It’s his temper. You know what he’s like. He actually asked for you.”

“When’s the hearing?”

“Tomorrow at ten.”

“I’ll see if I can get the time off, unless he wants me as an official rep. from the practice.”

“I don’t think he could afford you,” she said, laughing for the first time.

“OK, leave it with me. I’ll get back to you.”

My ‘Mum’ was in fact my foster-mother, and Craig was my foster ‘brother’. Both of us boys were long term foster-sons, while other children came and went. Then there was Gina, who was also a long term foster ‘daughter’ and was now eighteen. She too had done well at school, had just completed her ‘A’ levels. She was a quiet girl. She and I got on well, and always had.

I’d been with Mrs Brenda Collins since I was five years old, and to all intents and purposes she was my mother. As I grew older I realised what a heroine she was. She always said it was as if her life had been mapped out for her.

After she was married she found that she was unable to have children of her own, and it seemed like the end of the world. It was then she had the idea of adopting, but her relatively new husband couldn’t cope with that: he wanted children of his own and he left her heartbroken. She was deprived of motherhood and then of her husband whom she loved very much.

A few months after the divorce, her widowed grandmother died and left Brenda her house and everything in it, as well as bank deposits, stocks and shares worth nearly four hundred thousand pounds.

The house was a large Victorian edifice free and clear of mortgage, and she wondered what to do with it. She wondered if she could adopt, but on enquiring, in those days she was told that as a now single young woman she was not eligible to adopt.

However the kind soul at the adoption agency suggested she might think of fostering. She told me that from that moment she knew exactly what she was going to do with the house: she was going to live in it with lots of fostered children!

And she did! At first she did fairly short-term fostering, anything between a few nights and some months. I came along after she’d been fostering for about five years, and I stayed.

She told me that I was quiet and reserved, some would say introverted, as a young child and did not smile or make friends easily. She said I scowled at prospective adoptive parents, and would not talk to them. I remember this: I had made up my mind that I wanted to stay with my ‘Mum’. I got my way!

Craig arrived when I was ten and Craig was eight. He had suffered terrible physical abuse by the time he arrived at our foster home.

He was a wild child who was always in trouble and Mum was often at her wit’s end with him. From mid-teens he was into gangs and drugs, but after a few brushes with the law he seemed to have settled and at that time had a job as a car mechanic.

However, his major problem was his temper, which got him into further trouble, mainly after drinking too much.

Gina was twelve when she arrived, but quickly made it clear she wanted to stay, and stay she diid.

Around us, other children came and went, and by virtue of us being permanent, we took our share of looking after them. In spite of Craig’s wild ways, he was very gentle with them and kept his bad habits away from them.

When Brenda fostered her fortieth child, the three of us insisted on having a party.

Back to the present. After the phone call, I went to work and found that by reorganising one meeting with my mentor, and then working late, very late that evening, I could take the whole of next day off if necessary. When I returned to the House at ten from work, Imogen collared me as I came in.

“Where’ve you been?” she said with some exasperation. “Helen came this afternoon to discuss repainting the walls of her room. She waited until eight and then had to go.”

“Family emergency,” I replied curtly, “and I won’t be here tomorrow either. I’ve got to attend a magistrates’ court. Did anyone help her?”

“Nuala basically told her she was free to paint the walls and the ceiling any colour she liked: it was her room. She gave her some hints, like rolling back the carpets and such. Then Christian arrived and said he’d help her. I think they are going shopping for paint tomorrow evening, and he’s going to take the day off on Thursday to help get her started.”

“That’s OK then,” I said.

“No it isn’t!” snapped Imogen. “Again she came hoping to see you and again you didn’t show. Now she’s certain you are avoiding her.”

“That’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed. “Look, just explain to her that I have to handle a family emergency. Now I need something to eat; I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“There’s some lamb stew left over. I think Christian put some leftover potatoes and carrots in it.”

I heated the remaining stew and got two bottles of beer from my room. The stew was delicious and clearly Christian’s doing. I resolved to find out which herbs and spices he used, for his meals always had a uniquely delicious taste to them.

I finished the beer, washed up and put away the pan, cutlery and dishes without anyone else arriving in the kitchen, for which I was grateful.

Once in my room I stripped, got into bed and turned on the radio for some soothing music. I was disappointed, for BBC Radio 3 had ‘new music’ on, which sounded to me like dustbins being emptied next to an abattoir. I switched it off again and lay in silence and the dark.

I was intensely frustrated that once again I had missed Helen, and once again another male member of the House had taken her under his wing. My memory played our meetings and in particular that kiss and hug. I reprised what had been said by the girl at Helen’s house, and by the various house members, and especially Harry’s assessment of her preoccupation with me.

My mind moved to my journey to London and thus missing her, then to earlier in the evening when again she’d been, again asked for me and again been disappointed. Sod’s law. Sod seemed very active in my life, it seemed.

I fell asleep without once thinking about Craig and the court appearance.

Next day I arrived at the family house at eight, having left home at seven fifteen without breakfast. I knew there would be breakfast waiting for me.

Craig surfaced at nine and was morose and churlish. Mum pointed out that he was lucky to have me to stand up for him, and that he’d better damn well co-operate.

In half an hour I had managed to extract the story of the other man insulting Craig’s girlfriend and actually committing what was in fact a sexual assault on her, then the account of the resulting one-sided fight, when Craig broke the other’s nose and cracked two ribs. Craig was sporting a black eye and swollen lip.

I was pleased when Deborah, Craig’s girl of the moment, and her friend Gail arrived at the house asking for lifts to court. I quickly got Deb’s story, and her agreement to testify, she saying she was not afraid to say exactly what the other man had said, where he had put his hand and what he had done with it.

It turned out the other man was an ex-boyfriend of Debs, and resented her being with someone else. Gail also agreed to be a witness. I persuaded Craig after some pleading to agree to an anger management course.

Craig pleaded guilty, but with extenuating circumstances. The story was told, and the two witnesses gave their stories. I pleaded for leniency and cited Craig’s wish to get help to control his temper.

Craig avoided a custodial sentence, but received a Community Service Order and a mandatory anger management course. Our group left court with relief.

A family conference followed when I told Craig in no uncertain terms what would happen if he failed to carry out the court’s orders, and he actually thanked me! His relief was evident. Then it was time for lunch, for which Mum begged me to stay.

As a foster mother she had been paid until I was eighteen since I was in full time education, but I always gave her half of what I earned from summer jobs, and now was able to send her more.

I loved her and she me. I could never repay her for all the hours she spent helping me with reading and homework. It always touched her when I told her she was my real mother.

She had told me that my birth mother died when I was three years old. I have no memory of her, never knew my father and at that time had no interest in finding out more about them. In my book they had abandoned me and deserved no attention.

Regina came for lunch giving me a long hug and kiss. “Hi brother!” she said with a grin. “How’s things? Got him off?” dipping her head towards Craig.

“I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “Not too bad, though, eh, Craig?”

“Could’ve been a lot worse,” muttered Craig. “Debs says she’s going to take me in hand!” Gina cackled and I laughed, while Mum tut-tutted at the lewd allusion, but grinned nevertheless.

“I would have thought she’d have been doing that already!” said Gina.

“Gina! I’m surprised at you!” Mum exclaimed, though she still couldn’t prevent herself grinning. Foster parents tend to be very broad-minded, at least mine is.

“Oh, Mum, I’m a big girl now.”

“You said it!” chuckled Craig, getting a punch for his pains.

“I think ‘tall and slender’ would have been better adjectives Gina,” I said. I was always ready to stick up for her. She blushed prettily at that.

“Seriously, I think you’ve got a treasure in Debs,” Mum said to Craig. “She’s stuck by you through everything.”

“Suppose so,” he said, albeit reluctantly. “She’s all right.”

“From Craig, that’s high praise,” I laughed.

Craig growled, but was half-smiling.

The meal was ample and tasty, a steak and kidney pudding with steamed new potatoes and french beans, followed by rice pudding. No one left Mum’s table wanting more!

I took my leave, hugging Mum and Regina. To my surprise, Craig came and hugged me as well.

“Thanks Dave,” he said. “You really came good for me – I appreciate it!”

“That’s what family’s for,” I said, surprised and rather overcome by Craig’s display. “And we are family, aren’t we?”

“We are that!” said Craig with feeling. “And I’m going to get this temper of mine under control. Have to, or I’ll get it in the neck from Debs!”

“That wouldn’t exactly be a good example to you, would it?” I said with a gleam in my eye.

“I won’t let you down, Dave.”

Craig and I had never been close until that day, but from then there was a significant change. I waved at the family and drove away.

As it was early afternoon, I went back to the office and worked until six, an hour after everyone else had gone home, and thanks to my late night the night before, had caught up on all my outstanding work and so felt satisfied and happy with my day, especially my performance in the magistrates’ court.

Another thought came as I drove home. Helen might be there; wasn’t she going out buying paint? I arrived at a quarter to seven, having stopped to pick up some fish, chips, peas and curry from the local chippy.

There was no one downstairs, so, having retrieved a bottle of beer from my room, I went to the kitchen, unwrapped my dinner and emptied the contents neatly onto a large dinner plate. I could hear the muted sounds of music from above, but apart from that the place was bathed in silence. A shaft of low, late evening sunshine from the front of the House slanted through the open kitchen door onto the floor.

Having cleared the detritus away and washed my plate and cutlery, I took the remains of my beer to my room. On a whim I went further down the corridor and arrived at Helen’s room. The door was open and I could see the room had been prepared for wall-painting, but there was no one there.

I decided to go to the office and sort out some outstanding correspondence and bring the accounts up to date from the chitties people had left from their ‘basic food and household goods’ purchases, so that where necessary I could deduct the costs incurred from their next month’s rent.

I was deep into that chore when I heard the front door open and lively chatter as a male and female arrived. I realised quickly that it was Helen and Christian, and I surmised rightly they had been out buying paint. The two were laughing as they went upstairs and then all was quiet again.

I continued my work, or tried to. I knew I was feeling jealous of Christian who’d got so close to Helen, and I again felt dejected that I had missed my chance with her. I cursed the interventions fate had decreed (or was it the fabled god or devil Sod?) to keep me away from her.

I shrugged. It was better, I reassured myself once again, that I not get involved with another housemate. That would only lead to trouble. I knew I was fooling myself: in my heart of hearts I also knew that given the chance I would have wanted to get to know Helen, and know her very well!

That of course led to renewed angst, and so I was not in the best of moods as I left the office and emerged into the spacious square entrance hall with the idea of making a bedtime drink in the kitchen.

Of course, I had only taken a few steps onto the ornately decorated floor tiles when the happy couple arrived at the head of the stairs and begin to descend, Helen’s arm tucked into Christian’s. They were laughing about something.

I glanced up at them as they came down, noticing that the laughing stopped abruptly, and Helen, looking guilty, immediately distanced herself from Christian. I continued my journey without a pause.

“Evening, Helen. Christian.” I said neutrally with a nod. There was no reply but as I entered the kitchen I heard the front door close. I made my cocoa and went to my room, seething with pointless anger.

Didn’t take her long to get off with the most athletic man in the house, was my first thought, the picture of her snuggled up to Christian on the stairs clear in my mind. So much for her being keen on me! was my second. I continued to fulminate as I tidied my room prior to showering.

I showered, not thinking much but feeling all that jealousy, frustration, disappointment, and the anger that was still there as I scrubbed harder and harder, punishing myself for missing her twice. I emerged with a pink rigorously scrubbed body swathed in a short towelling bathrobe and sat down in my easy chair with my novel.