Chapter 14

The next week was b-o-r-i-n-g: I didn’t even have the respite of hospital visits. Under the circumstances that was a probably for the best. I drew up a schedule, splitting my time between schoolwork and free time, which mostly meant reading since I couldn’t stand daytime television and since I didn’t have any video games that came anywhere close to the ones Phil owned. And I made no attempt to masturbate, although I could feel the pressure to do so build as the week progressed.

Mum went to work each morning, but dropped in every lunchtime to check I hadn’t burnt the house down. More often than not, she went back to work in the afternoon, happy that I was able to fend for myself.

Friday morning, I was working on a class assignment in the lounge when the doorbell rang. When I answered the door, I found a harmless-looking middle-aged woman.

“Hello,” she said, waving some sort of clip-on photo-id at me. “You must be Jon Snow. Are your parents home?”

I checked my watch. “My mum will be home at lunchtime, but that’s rather variable depending on what she’s working on. Why don’t you come in and I’ll give her a call to let her know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

The woman came in and I showed her into the kitchen. I dialled Mum’s law firm then got through to her extension. “Hi Mum, there’s a woman here to talk to you. What time will you be home?”

“What’s her name and what does she want?” asked Mum.

“Mum wants to know your name and why you want to see her,” I relayed to the woman. “Would you like to tell her yourself?”

The woman accepted the phone from me.

“Do you want privacy?” I asked in a loud whisper, but she shook her head.

“Hello Mrs Snow,” said the woman. “My name is Felicity Brannigan and I’m a council welfare officer. Your son has been off school for rather a long time without a doctor’s certificate so I was asked to check up on him.”

My blood ran cold and I felt like panicking: a council snoop. I couldn’t imagine what sort of trouble I’d be in for not asking the reason for her visit before letting her in. I heard my mum on the other end of the line, but not loud enough to hear what she said.

“No, that’s fine,” said Mrs Brannigan. “is it okay if I ask him a few questions while we wait?”

More talking from Mum.

“Yes, I’ll hand you over.” Mrs Brannigan mouthed a ‘thank you’ to me.

“Jon, did you hear what she does?” asked Mum.

“Yes.”

“It might have been better if you hadn’t invited her in but it’s too late now. Be polite but be VERY careful what you tell her. I’ll be home in about half an hour.”

Hopefully that meant I might live through the experience after all. Some of my tension evaporated. “Okay, thanks Mum. See you soon.”

We said our good byes and I hung up. I had to remember my manners and try to make our ‘guest’ feel welcome. “Can I get you anything to drink, Mrs Brannigan?”

“That’s very kind of you. I’d like a cup of tea, if that’s okay.”

I made us each a cup of tea, with Mrs Brannigan’s being to her own specification, and I raided the cake tin, with Mrs Brannigan accepting a slice of fruit cake. “We’d be more comfortable in the lounge,” I said, “but I’ve been working on a school assignment and I’ve pretty much spread out everywhere.”

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“I’ll show you.”

Mrs Brannigan followed me to the lounge and we stopped just inside the doorway. Everywhere was covered with books, maps and miscellaneous pieces of paper.

“It’s for Modern History. We’re studying the Second World War. Our assignment is to identify one of the turning points and write an essay on it,” I explained. “I chose the Russian Front and it’s turned out to be far more complex than I imagined. There was an abnormally hard winter, dogged Russian resistance in places like St Petersburg, the combination of scorched earth and long German supply lines meant that everything was in short supply, and the Russian forces were bolstered by supplies from the allies,” I said, gesturing at various parts of the mess as appropriate.