Nobody’s Son

  Adrian, Lucy and Paula, woken by the noise, had come out of their bedrooms. ‘What was that?’ Adrian asked anxiously and began downstairs.

  ‘I heard a crash,’ Lucy said.

  ‘The front-room window has been smashed,’ I said, my voice shaking.

  In their nightwear and barefooted they came into the front room as far as was safe – to the edge of the carpet, where it was glass-free. They looked as shaken as I felt.

  ‘Who did that?’ Paula asked, aghast.

  ‘Yobs messing around in the street,’ I said as evenly as I could.

  ‘Shall I phone the police?’ Adrian asked helpfully.

  ‘No, I’ll do it tomorrow,’ I said. I needed time to think if I would report it to the police, and if so what I would say.

  ‘You should do it now,’ Lucy said. ‘They might catch them.’ But that was the point. Did I want Alex caught? Was that what he needed right now? I didn’t know.

  ‘I think I’ll clear up first,’ I said. ‘And we need to put something over that hole for tonight, then I’ll call the insurance company in the morning.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you leave everything as it is for evidence?’ Adrian asked.

  But I wasn’t sure I wanted evidence of what Alex had done. I was too shocked to think straight. Then the doorbell rang, making us all jump. For a moment I thought it was Alex and his mates, returning to do us more harm, in which case I would phone the police straight away. Adrian, Paula and Lucy stared at me anxiously as I began towards the front door. Adrian got there first and, peering through the security spyhole, said, ‘Mum, it’s OK. It’s our neighbour, Sue.’

  I opened the door. ‘We heard the noise,’ she said, concerned. ‘Your window is broken. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, we were upstairs thankfully, but the front room is a mess.’

  Sue came in and gasped when she saw the state it was in. ‘Did you see who did it?’ she asked, dismayed.

  ‘Teenage lads. I’ll report it in the morning. I’m more concerned about boarding up that hole for tonight.’

  ‘Shall I send Steve round? He’s still up and he’ll know what to do. I’m sure he’s got something in his shed to cover that. He has most things in there.’ Steve was Sue’s husband, who could often be heard hammering and sawing in his shed at weekends. It was a bone of contention between them as to how much time he spent in his shed, but now I was very grateful for the offer.

  ‘Yes, please, if he wouldn’t mind. If I phone the insurance company it will be hours before they send a repairer.’

  Sue returned next door to fetch her husband.

  ‘I’ll get dressed and help Steve,’ Adrian said, and went upstairs. Since my husband had left Adrian had in some ways taken over the role of the man in the house, although I didn’t allow him more responsibility than was reasonable for a thirteen-year-old.

  Lucy and Paula went upstairs too for their dressing gowns and slippers, while I fetched the dustpan and brush, making sure Toscha was shut out so she couldn’t come into the front room and risk getting shards of glass in her paws. The girls and I then began the task of clearing up. Paula held open a plastic bag as I swept up the larger pieces of glass and tipped them into it, while Lucy fetched the vacuum cleaner and plugged it in. Steve suddenly appeared outside the window, making us start. ‘Just measuring up,’ he said through the hole, and opened up the ladder he’d brought with him.

  ‘Thank you so much. I am grateful,’ I said.

  ‘Whoever did this wants a good hiding,’ he said.

  I nodded and continued clearing up.

  Once I’d swept up the larger pieces of glass, I began vacuuming the carpet and chairs as the girls moved the furniture. Tiny splinters of glass were everywhere. Just as we thought we had one area clear another sliver glinted in the light. Adrian had returned downstairs in joggers and jersey, and when Steve appeared outside the window again, now carrying a large sheet of plywood, Adrian went out to help him.

  Sue returned and joined me and the girls in the front room, and we all watched as Steve and Adrian held the sheet of plywood up to the window to check it fitted. Then they lowered it again and set it to one side. ‘That’ll do fine,’ Steve said. ‘I’ll use as few nails as possible so it doesn’t damage the wood. But this is just temporary, Cathy, to see you through the night.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you so much,’ I said again.

  We continued watching as Steve gave instructions to Adrian on what he could do to help – hold the bottom edge of the plywood to steady it as Steve went up the ladder, then pass the nails up to him. Already emotional from what had happened, seeing this moved me, as it would have been Adrian helping his father with this job, had he not left us.

  Fifteen minutes later the wood was in place and I thanked Steve and Sue profusely. Sue and I were friends as well as neighbours and she and I had helped each other out in the past, but this was not a favour I would easily be able to repay. Not that they expected repayment, but I would buy them wine and chocolates as a thank you. I was so grateful, and it was such a relief to have the house reasonably secure again. It was well past midnight by the time we’d finished and had said goodnight to Sue and Steve. The children and I went straight up to bed, but I slept fitfully. I was agonizing, not only because Alex and his mates – out of control and on the streets – could return and do more damage, but also because I was trying to decide whether I should report them to the police. While I was annoyed and upset by what they’d done, I knew Alex was in a really bad place right now. Would reporting him help him to work through his anger? Or help Gwen and Gareth manage his behaviour? I doubted it. Alex was already in trouble with the police. Adding to his crime list wasn’t likely to help him turn a corner, was it? Indeed, I thought it would probably compound his feelings of persecution and make him even more difficult to reach. But on the other hand I didn’t want him and his mates thinking they could vandalize my house and upset my family when they felt like it. During that long night, every time I heard the slightest noise outside I was out of bed and peering between the curtains. By the morning I had no clearer idea of what I should do.

  As Adrian, Paula and Lucy came down for breakfast they all made a detour via the front room, as I had done when I’d first got up, to check on the boarding. It was still in place and doing its job, thanks to Steve, but the room was dismally dark with the main window blocked up. It occurred to me that if I’d had double glazing, a brick was unlikely to have penetrated, but now John had gone I was having to be careful with money, so double glazing wasn’t a priority.

  I saw Adrian, Paula and Lucy off to school, and then as soon as the offices at the insurance company opened I telephoned their claims department. I said that a brick had been thrown through my front-room window last night and asked how I should go about having it repaired under the insurance. By the time he’d finished telling me what was involved and I’d checked the details of my policy, it was clear I wouldn’t be making a claim. All claims had to be reported to the police, which would involve a trip to the police station to make a statement. Evidence of the damage had to be kept until the loss adjuster had visited and my claim had been approved, resulting in a boarded-up window for however many weeks it took – he didn’t know exactly. Then, if my claim was approved, which seemed a big ‘if’, I had to submit three estimates for the work, and that was before we came to the matter of the excess on my policy, which I was now reminded I’d set at the maximum of £500 to keep the premium low. The decision was therefore made. I thanked him for his trouble, said goodbye and then telephoned a local glazier who said he’d come round in an hour to give an estimate for the work. For £250 he replaced the window that afternoon, so when Adrian, Paula and Lucy arrived home from school we were back to normal.

  That evening I telephoned Gwen and Gareth.

  Gareth answered and we swapped the usual friendly hellos and how are yous? Then I asked if Alex was there.

  ‘Yes, why?’ Gareth asked.

  ‘I’d like to talk to him if
I may. I’ll tell you afterwards exactly what we’ve said. Would that be all right?’

  ‘Yes, Cathy, but can I ask you what this is in connection with?’

  ‘The brick that was thrown through my window last night,’ I said.

  ‘Oh no. Not Alex?’

  ‘Yes, with some other lads. Would it be all right if I spoke to him now and then explained to you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, Cathy. I’ll fetch him now. He’s in his room.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The handset was put down and then a lengthy silence followed – unusual in their house, as normally there was always something going on and voices in the background. I guessed Alex didn’t want to speak to me, for it was over five minutes before Gareth’s voice came on the line again. ‘He’s coming now.’

  ‘Thank you. How is everyone?’

  ‘Not too bad, considering. Gwen’s told you the trouble we’ve been having.’

  ‘Yes. I am sorry.’

  ‘There’s only Alex and me in this evening,’ Gareth said. ‘Mark and Taylor are at their girlfriends’. They spend quite a bit of time there now. Gwen has taken Kaylee to the cinema. I would have gone, but we daren’t leave Alex in the house alone.’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Here he is,’ he said. ‘I’ll put him on.’

  Gareth passed the handset to Alex. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded rudely.

  ‘To talk to you about last night,’ I said evenly.

  ‘It wasn’t me. I didn’t throw it.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who threw it. I’m holding you responsible. Those other lads wouldn’t have had the idea without you – they didn’t even know where I lived. You brought them to my house and even if you didn’t actually throw the brick you incited one of them to do so. You are the only one with a motive, Alex, and I saw you all running away, so please don’t treat me like a fool.’ I was firm but calm.

  ‘Have you finished now?’ he asked insolently.

  ‘Not yet. I’ve no idea what you thought you would achieve by doing that. I doubt you even thought it through. I made the offer for you to come and stay with me for a few days and you respond by getting angry with your parents and then throwing a brick through my window. The offer was well meant, but you completely misinterpreted it and decided we were plotting against you. Nothing could be further from the truth. We are all trying to help you.’ I heard him give a scornful humph. ‘I haven’t reported it to the police yet, Alex, because your parents don’t need any more worry. And I’m not convinced that reporting it would help you either. But if there is any repetition of that type of behaviour or if I see you or your mates near my house again – unless I invite you to visit – I will call the police straight away. Do I make myself clear, Alex?’

  There was silence.

  ‘Alex, I’m asking you a question. Do you understand what I’ve said?’

  Another silence and then a begrudging, ‘Yes. I heard you.’

  ‘Good. I’ve had the window replaced. It cost me two hundred and fifty pounds and I’m expecting you to pay for it.’ He swore under his breath. ‘Not all at once – you can put aside a few pounds each week out of your allowance. Your mum and I get together every so often, so she can give me however much you’ve saved, or, if you prefer, you can give me the money in person. Phone and we’ll arrange to meet.’

  He muttered another expletive, which I ignored.

  ‘And, Alex, a word of advice before I speak to your dad: please take the help that is being offered and get yourself sorted out. I know you had a rough start to life, but so do lots of children. Don’t let it ruin the rest of your life. You’ve got much to be grateful for. I’m sure that deep down you know you’ve got the best family ever and how much they love you, and I know you love them. Smoking drugs and drinking alcohol is ruining your brain. This isn’t the real you, Alex. I know the real you and so do your parents, brothers and sister. You’re a fantastic person – intelligent, funny, loving, kind and generous. Find that person again, Alex. Please take all the help and support that is on offer and find him for your own sake and your family’s. Before it’s too late.’

  There was no reply. I didn’t really expect one.

  ‘Please think about what I’ve said, Alex. Take care. I’ll speak to your father now.’

  The phone was set down and presently Gareth’s voice came on the line. I explained about the brick being thrown through my window and then what I’d said to Alex just now and his limited responses. As his father Gareth had a right to know. He gave a deep, exasperated sigh, apologized and offered to pay for the broken window, but we both knew that Alex should be responsible for repaying me, so Gareth said he would remind Alex each week to put some money aside from his allowance. He thanked me for not reporting the matter to the police, as it would certainly have sent Alex to a young offenders’ institution. Perhaps that’s what Alex needed – a short, sharp shock – but I didn’t want to be the one to put him there. I still remembered the old Alex – the small, rejected child, and then the young lad who had thrived in the heart of his adoptive family for all those years. I hoped and prayed that Alex would return before it really was too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Hug

  The next time I met Gwen, about three months later, she looked utterly exhausted. She admitted that she didn’t know how much more she and Gareth could take. Alex’s behaviour, far from improving, had deteriorated. She and Gareth were now arguing between themselves over the best way to deal with Alex, while Taylor, Mark and Kaylee had little to do with him. ‘Whatever happened to my loving, happy family?’ Gwen said, with tears in her eyes.

  We’d met at a coffee shop in town, and as we talked Gwen told me that although Alex hadn’t come to the attention of the police again, this was because he’d evaded being caught, rather than any improvement in his behaviour. She said he was still stealing to buy alcohol and the drugs he smoked, and had stolen from all of them, including Kaylee, who kept cash in a money box in her bedroom. He’d gone in when she wasn’t there, emptied the money box and then said she must have forgotten where she’d put it, blaming her learning difficulties for not remembering. Gwen said that Alex was no longer showering or changing his clothes regularly and seemed to take a perverse pleasure in being unwashed and unkempt, then caused a huge scene if they mentioned it at all. He often stayed out all night, and when she or Gareth reported him missing to the police they now treated their concerns less seriously and took longer to respond, as it had happened so many times before. She said Alex hardly spoke to any of them and when he did it was usually to say something spiteful. The previous month he’d been permanently excluded from school so he was now at home all day. She or Gareth had to be in the house to make sure he didn’t get into more trouble. She didn’t mention the money Alex was supposed to be giving me for the broken window and I certainly didn’t bring it up. It was impossible to know what to say, and my well-meant and now overused ‘I’m sure he’ll turn a corner before too long’ sounded feeble and unconvincing even to me.

  Ten months passed, during which time I was supposed to meet Gwen twice but she cancelled at the last minute saying she was unwell. On the second occasion she said she was going to the hospital for blood tests. ‘I’ve been feeling low for a while now, so I thought I’d better get checked out, although I’m sure it’s stress.’

  ‘Let me know if I can do anything,’ I said, and then asked how Alex was.

  ‘The same,’ she said, but didn’t offer any more.

  The next time we met, a few months later, Gwen had been given the all-clear from the hospital – there was nothing physically wrong with her, but her doctor had talked to her about trying to reduce the stress she was under, which of course was impossible with Alex behaving as he was. I began to wonder if – despite all their love and support – he would be able to get his life back on track, and how much stress they could take. But Gwen said more than once to me that he was their son and they’d stand by him, no matter what.

&nbs
p; We continued to meet every few months and Alex’s name was mentioned less and less. If I asked Gwen how he was she’d say, ‘The same. Let’s talk about something else.’

  There was never any money from him for the broken window and I wrote it off. I hadn’t seen Alex or his mates near my house again, so they had heeded my warning. By the age of fifteen Alex had been excluded from four secondary schools. ‘I think he must be trying for a record,’ Gwen said with the weakest of smiles.

  ‘Not a record you’d want him to set,’ I said sadly.

  But on a positive note, Taylor was getting married to his long-time girlfriend, Krissy, and Gwen was organizing their wedding. Krissy’s mother had died when she was a child and her father was happy to leave the arrangements to Gwen. ‘Taylor and Krissy just want a small wedding,’ she told me. ‘Immediate family with a sit-down meal to follow. But it’s so nice to be thinking about something else other than Alex’s problems. He’s saying he’s not coming to the wedding, but hopefully he’ll change his mind.’