Chapter 7

Becca turned up in good time for her meeting at the children's home. A number of children came to talk to her including Peggy.

"I gather you're a bit of an artist," said Becca.

Peggy blushed. "I do a bit of painting," she said.

"What of? People? Animals? Trees?"

"People mostly."

"Do you get them to sit for you?"

"Oh no, I couldn't ask them to do that. I sketch them when they're doing something and then paint it later."

"I'd love to see some."

Peggy beamed with pleasure and dashed off. She returned a few minutes later but by then had reverted to shyness and handed the first to Becca.

It was a water colour of Mrs Olney taking a class. There was no mistaking who it was and Peggy had caught her gentleness and compassion. While she knew nothing of painting Becca knew it was good.

"Wow!" she said. "You can't mistake who that is. It's very, very good."

Peggy even more shyly handed her another one. It was of Becca reaching out for a ball with a hockey stick. It was full of movement. There was a look of intense determination on Becca's face and Peggy had also captured the brilliance of her hair.

"You've made me look far too glamorous," she said to Peggy who shook her head vehemently. "Would you let me take it home to show to Uncle Steven?" Becca went on. "I'll bring it back tomorrow."

Peggy went pink with pleasure. "You don't have to bring it back," she said. "You ... you can keep it if you want."

"Certainly not," said Becca. "You'll need it for your portfolio."

Peggy shook her head. "I've still got the original sketch and could easily do another one."

"Thanks, Peggy, but I'm still going to bring it back. I'd love to see some more sometime but I'm due to see Mrs Yates now."

Peggy smiled happily and watched as Becca knocked on Mrs Yates's door and, with a wave, went in.

Becca was greeted warmly by both Helen and Edna and thanked for coming.

"You're right about Peggy being a talented artist," she said to Edna. "She's just shown me the painting she did of Martha which is brilliant and she's lent me this one to show to Uncle Steven."

Helen looked at it. "Golly!" she said. "She is good. How long's she been doing this, Edna?"

"Shortly after I got here. I invited Brian Reid, the portrait painter from York, to come and give a talk and demonstration. She got hooked and he's given her a lot of free help and encouragement, bless him."

"That must have been a bit high falutin' for most of them, I'd've thought."

"Yes, probably but you never know with children. Let something catch their imagination and they're off. We had a man in six month's ago and he talked basic carpentry but also modelling in wood. He got two of the younger boys interested in both and one of the girls, aged thirteen, caught up in modelling. She's done a pretty good woodpecker and is now working on a kingfisher."

"Yes," said Helen. "I'd heard about that and I think it's wonderful."

"I don't want to sound like a killjoy," said Becca, "but I imagine that most of the children haven't got any artistic flair. Have you catered for them?"

Edna smiled. "Trust you to bring us down to earth," she said. "The answer is yes. For the boys, we've got the teenagers rebuilding an engine for a car. Actually, there's a girl involved in that too. We've got cookery courses going for the girls: not just bangers and mash but some more advanced stuff. Again for the girls, we've got a very nice woman from Soignée at Harrogate who is teaching fashion design."

"Not Alison Thorpe?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"I've modelled for them and they've invited me again."

"I like her and the girls love her."

"I'll bet. She's a very special person."

Helen cleared her throat. "I think we need to get on to discuss why we asked you to join us today, Becca."

They all sat down.

"Do you know Garry Brook, Becca?" Helen asked.

Becca thought. "No," she said.

Helen glanced at Edna. "That tallies," she said. "He's so shy and retiring as to be almost anonymous. Now, let's try again: five aside football, long, lanky boy on the right wing."

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Becca. "Got him! Greased lightening when he runs." She paused. "He never joins in when his side celebrates a goal and he doesn't move off the pitch with the rest of the team when a game's over."

Both women nodded.

"So he's desperately shy. Frightened to commit himself too?"

Both women nodded again.

"Why? He arrived here after I left so no-one's molested him here."

"But he was at home," Edna said. "His father was a lorry driver and a lout. He beat his wife up so that she did nothing to stop him beating up Garry either. He was a pervert too and forced himself on Garry."

Becca covered her face with her hands.

"We knew nothing about it." Helen took up the story. "The swine took care never to hit them where it would show. The neighbours never heard or saw anything suspicious. It was when Garry collapsed one day at school that it all came to light. The doctor took off his shirt to listen to his chest and saw all the bruising."

"Poor kid!"

"We took him into care straight away and then went and interviewed his mother and the whole story came out. We took her to the women's refuge and the police waited for Mr Brook. He is now doing fifteen years and, depending on psychiatrist's reports may stay in prison for the rest of his life."

"Swine!" said Becca through clenched teeth. "That might not be very long. I understand that Mr Oliphant has spent time in solitary for his own safety. Where's Mrs Brook now?"

"Dead," said Helen. "She gave evidence at the trial and then committed suicide."

"Does Garry know that?"

"Yes."

"Good! Where on earth do I come into it then?"

"We're at our wits' end, Becca," said Edna. "We've tried to bring him out ourselves without success. Two psychiatrists have seen him but have come up with nothing."

"Hmm! Well nothing springs to mind." She was silent as she wracked her brains for a bright idea. She achieved nothing. Her mind was still reeling with horror at what this poor boy had gone through. The two women watched her without saying a word.

"Is he playing football this afternoon?"

"No," replied Edna, "but he will be at two-thirty tomorrow."

"OK. I'll be there. Could you arrange for some of the other children to be there as spectators? I'd like to be able to be able to chat with them so that he may notice that I'm not a bogey woman."

"Yes, Becca. They will be anyway and thank you."

"I haven't done anything yet and I may not come up with anything but I might be able to strike up a relationship with him over time."

"That's quite understood. I'm just grateful that you haven't just turned us down flat."

"I couldn't do that, poor boy. Anyway, I must be off and see how my young ladies are doing."

"I must go too," said Helen.

They both said goodbye to Edna and walked out to the car park together.

"I knew you wouldn't turn us down, Becca dear," said Helen turning to her and taking her hands, "and don't be upset if nothing comes of it. You'll know you did your best."

Becca smiled wanly. "Flatterer," she murmured.

"No, dear. I know you too well. You won't let this one go without a struggle." She squeezed Becca's hands and turned away to her car.

Becca stood there silently. She had been so lucky finding Uncle Steven and through him security and happiness. Helen was quite right. She was not going to let Garry go on suffering if it was humanly possible. She would get the girls thinking too.