by Suzy K Quinn
‘Awful, awful woman. Bring back hanging. Pure evil is what she is.’
Sometimes, I wonder if Tessa is right for this job. Social work isn’t black and white, good and bad. But on the other hand, her no-nonsense outlook has probably saved her from a nervous breakdown.
And she did just offer me one of her Nespressos.
Maybe there’s hope for us yet.
Olly
‘Okay, buddy?’ I fasten Tom into his coat, hanging his new bag around his shoulders.
Tom admires it in the hallway mirror, grinning in his school uniform.
Tom and I live in a new house a few roads from his school. It would have been too disruptive to move him again, so I moved instead.
‘Thanks, Dad. I love it.’
It’s a Marvel Action Heroes rucksack – I bought it for his first day back at school after the holidays. Apparently, Transformers is ‘for babies’ now.
I’m in danger of spoiling him, but that’s okay. And I don’t hear Tom complaining.
Tom has shot up over Christmas. Like the tomato plants on our windowsill. Just growing and growing. He’s a completely different boy, tall and strong. Good food, exercise and no medication, that’s all it took.
‘Come on then.’ I take Tom’s hand – he still lets me do that. ‘Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.’
There was a time when I couldn’t hold Tom’s hand. Couldn’t see him, talk to him, tuck him in at night. You can’t imagine how it felt. I was in hell. Now, every day is like my birthday.
‘Are we walking?’ Tom asks. ‘Or going in the camper van?’ He loves the camper van.
‘The camper will be a bit hard to park today, Tommo. They’re still doing those roadworks.’
‘Please.’
I glance at his little face. ‘Oh, all right then. First day back. What do you think your new teacher will be like?’
‘Hopefully nicer than Mrs Dudley.’ Tom gives me a mischievous grin.
I met Mrs Dudley at the court hearing. She’d left Steelfield School by then. Voluntarily, according to her. But we all know she was pushed.
The headmaster was sacked and may face a prison sentence.
In court, Mrs Dudley was asked to give evidence about Tom’s erratic school attendance, lateness and the fact he was often tired, pale and hungry.
I remember Lizzie was always a nightmare with time, either ridiculously early or hours late. So it was no surprise to hear she repeated this pattern with Tom at school. Early some days, very late on others.
When I think what could have happened to Tom … But that’s a dark road, and I try not to go down it.
During the hearing, I was obsessed with justice. Justice against social services who lost records and mixed up reports, and the doctors who misdiagnosed and ignored. Justice against the police, who gave me a restraining order based only on Lizzie’s testimony and self-inflicted wounds. Justice against the family-court judge who let Lizzie walk away with my son.
Justice against Lizzie herself.
Lizzie Nightingale, a wolf in nurse’s clothing.
Of course, I’m not absolved from blame. I was so caught up with the romance I didn’t see what was right under my nose. Lizzie over-medicated me, drugged me up, made me see things, hear things. I became so aggressive, angry and depressed, I hardly knew myself. But even in my darkest moments, I never hurt my wife or child. It was all a figment of Lizzie’s imagination.
In my clearer moments, I suspected something was wrong. But mostly, I had no clue. Not until it was too late.
Tom and I still see a counsellor together to help us make sense of things. We go every Friday, then head to McDonald’s (Tom’s choice) for a Happy Meal with chocolate milkshake.
It’s tough, the counselling. Emotional. Very tiring.
A lot happened that Tom needs to talk about.
During the last session, Tom said Lizzie put menstrual blood on his dressing gown to make it look like he’d had a nosebleed. He saw her doing it in the toilet, but she convinced him he was seeing things. And she gave him three different tablets one morning – the morning he attacked the little girl in the playground.
Tom knew the tablets made him feel bad. He tried to get rid of them, bringing medicine bottles into school, giving the tablets to Lloyd and throwing the empties away at the back of the school field.
My medicine bottles, as it turns out. Painkillers I’d been prescribed.
Things like that are very, very tough for me to hear.
We talk about me as well and how angry I am with Lizzie. Years of mood swings and paranoia – all at her hands.
But I don’t only blame the meds. Seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes is a real wake-up call. The illusion of Lizzie I created … no one else did that. I’m a hopeless romantic, all my friends say so. When I meet a woman, I think she’s perfect.
I have a new girlfriend now and she doesn’t take any of my rubbish. She tells me to cut it right out if I try to put her on a pedestal. Which is better. More real. Tom likes her, but we’re taking things very slowly.
Sometimes, Tom will ask about his mother.
‘She’s mentally ill,’ I tell him. ‘She’s gone somewhere to be helped.’
Lizzie is at a secure mental health hospital. Her delusions are so severe. Even in court, she insisted she’d done nothing wrong. Whether she can really be helped … I don’t know.
The only thing I know for certain is that I am now truly awake. Wide awake. I see my blessings as clear as day: Tom, Tom, Tom.
I help my little boy into the camper van and buckle him into his booster. It’s a beast, this seat. Huge. The most expensive one in the shop with safety notices plastered all over it. I’ve turned into one of those cotton-wool parents.
‘Excited to be back at school?’ I ask Tom as I start the engine.
‘Really excited.’
I think: You’re the bravest little boy I’ve ever met.
‘Who did you miss most over the Christmas holidays?’ I ask, putting the car into gear and pulling out.
‘Jake.’
‘What about Pauly? Little Dennis the Menace? The one who drew felt-tip all over the carpet on our Christmas Eve playdate?’
We both laugh.
‘I still like Pauly,’ says Tom. ‘But he is a bit crazy. Jake’s my new, new best friend.’
Tom knows I like Pauly. That little boy has issues, make no mistake about it. But I like him. Tom and Pauly were like magnets once upon a time. Two little boys with messed-up mothers. Pauly helped Tom see things more clearly. That mothers aren’t always perfect. And that Tom could trust Kate Noble. So he probably saved Tom’s life, one way or another.
Mine too.
I’ll always look out for Pauly and his brothers. But perhaps it’s for the best that he and Tom are drifting apart.
‘Tell you what.’ Our camper trundles down the street. ‘Why don’t you see if Jake wants to come round after school? We can do cinema in the camper van. Popcorn. Watch stuff on the laptop.’
‘Can I, Daddy?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
Tom grins.
I smile at the windscreen, turning the camper past groups of kids in blue school uniforms.
They’ve renamed Steelfield: it’s now Kipling School after the children’s author. I think they wanted to get rid of all those negative associations. There were a lot of scandalous stories going around after the headmaster was sacked.
Actually, I like it round here. Coast just twenty minutes down the road. Climbing centre nearby. Lots of woodland walks. I work in the bedroom and have just sort of let go of London life.
Tom’s school is changing now the old headmaster has gone. Parents are allowed to come and go as they please. No more bars on the windows or chains on the gates. The kids are a lot freer. It’s a happier place.
Turns out, the headmaster was cheating like nobody’s business. Altering tests, getting rid of badly behaved kids during OFSTED inspections, blackmailing pupils not to tell. He ev
en opened SATS test papers and briefed staff on what to teach.
According to the staff, Mr Cockrun ran a police-state. Filming everything. Having records made about the tiniest little thing, and then using the information to blackmail staff and children alike.
Terrible.
Some parents have removed their children now the school has lost its outstanding status, but I don’t care about any of that stuff. It’s just image, isn’t it? The main thing is that Tom is happy.
Tom and I go to church on Sundays. It’s for the social side, mainly, but I keep an open mind to a higher power after the police found my son on the ferry, minutes before it was due to leave.
We see Kate Noble at church most weeks with her husband. He’s a lot of fun, Col. Not what I expected. He likes a drink.
I’m meeting new people – the girlfriend being one of them. Most of the staff at school know what Tom’s been through, and the new headmistress has been amazing, putting lots of support in place.
These days, I spend as much time with Tom as possible.
We go outdoor swimming. Bodyboarding. Rock climbing. And on Kate’s recommendation, I’m reading him The Chronicles of Narnia. He loves it.
The doctors thought Tom could have liver problems, but the last tests showed everything is normal. A clean bill of health.
Tom is so fit and healthy now, tearing around the place, climbing, jumping. Maybe we’ll go snowboarding next year.
Every moment with my son is a privilege.
I always knew it.
Now I’ll never forget.
Thank you for finishing my book.
If you have a minute, please review.
I read all my reviews (yes, the bad ones do make me cry) and good reviews mean everything. In fact, my entire author career is built on good reviews.
Your review doesn’t have to be fancy. In fact, just a one-word review is great (as long as it isn’t ‘shit’…).
So please go ahead, share the love and review – I can’t wait to see what you have to say.
Suzy K Quinn xx
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Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I am so grateful to you, dear reader, for choosing my book. You must be extremely intelligent, successful and attractive to have made such a wise choice. ;)
Second, thank you to my editor, Emily Kitchin, for helping shape this book and making really clever and intuitive changes. You are a dream to work with. HarperCollins, please promote her.
Third, my clever doctor friend Karen Chumbley who very kindly told me how to poison children. She doesn’t do this during working hours, if anyone is worried.
Fourth, thank you Flo Worley for the amazing social worker feedback and corrections. I am so grateful for all your time – you have helped make the book so much more accurate, and hopefully no social workers will come after me now for misrepresentation.
Last, but not least, the feedback powerhouse duo that are my bestselling twin sister author, Cath (CS) Quinn, and my husband Demi. Thank you for awesome feedback on all my books/unfiltered rudeness that improves everything I write.
Oh, and I should probably thank my kids for something so I can see their lovely little names in print. Thanks Lexi and Laya for filling my life with joy and love and wonder and going to the school that I based this book on. You rock.
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