Finding Home

by Garrett Leigh

  “And by deal with it, you mean take him away,” Fliss said bitterly. “Dad, please. Don’t let them do that. He’s a good kid. And what about Lila? They’ll separate them if no other family will take Leo.”

  “They may be separated anyway if Leo receives a custodial sentence for his attack on that boy.” Reg fixed his gaze on Charlie. “And the longer he’s gone, the worse it looks for him.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Charlie said.

  Fliss stepped in front of him, briefly shielding him from Reg’s piercing stare. “But you had an idea, though, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you did.” She turned to face Reg. “But we’re worried that Leo will freak out if the police turn up there. That he’ll run again. Let us go—me, Andy, and Charlie. If he’s there, we’ll bring him back.”

  “If he’s where?” Reg’s tone left nowhere to hide, even for Fliss.

  She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “At the old house . . . where his mum died. Charlie thinks he’s gone there.”

  “Is this true, Charlie?” Reg asked. “Has Leo ever spoken of returning to Swindon before?”

  “Um . . . not when he’s awake, it’s just, um—” Charlie bit his lip. “He talks about the old house in his sleep all the time, like he’s worried that he’s left something there—or left someone behind.”

  Something changed in Reg’s pale eyes. Concern melted into sadness, and severity turned to the closest to tears that Charlie had ever seen him. “Okay,” he said. “If you’re going to Swindon, I’m coming too, which means that someone needs to stay behind and help your mother with Lila while the meeting in there carries on without me.”

  “I’ll stay,” Andy said.

  Charlie glanced at him in surprise—Andy could never bear to be left out of anything—but Andy shook his head, and looked at Reg.

  “This isn’t about me,” he said. “Or you. We’ve got to do this as a family, and I reckon Leo needs you right now a lot more than he needs me.”

  Charlie didn’t quite agree. Leo hadn’t said much about his Wembley trip with Andy, but it was obvious that he preferred Andy to Reg. That perhaps Reg’s presence would be as frightening to him as the police.

  But there was nothing else to be done. Reg wouldn’t let them go without him, and they had to go. Leo had already been alone for far too long.

  I’m coming, Leo. I’m coming.

  Charlie slouched in the back seat of Reg’s beige people-carrier, listening to every word of Reg bollocking Fliss for nosing in Leo’s file.

  He kind of felt bad for her—kind of, because although he was pissed off that she knew stuff about Leo that he didn’t, her snooping had done him a favour. Without it, there was no way that Reg would be having this conversation in front of him, or using it to fill Charlie in on all that he’d missed.

  But it wasn’t easy listening. Charlie rubbed his sweaty palms together. So far he’d learned that Leo’s father was a violent drunk—a story he’d heard before from various siblings who’d passed through the Poulton household—but there was something else lurking behind this tale, a god-awful punch line that Reg and Fliss had yet to reveal.

  “How long did the authorities know about the father before the fire?” Fliss asked. “I don’t remember what it said in the file. I only skimmed it really, honest.”

  “That was still a betrayal of trust,” Reg said. “I appreciate that you were only so curious because you care about Leo and Lila, but you should know by now that we only keep secrets to protect you and the other children in our care.”

  “I’m not a child, Dad. You told Andy.”

  “That’s different. Andy has parental responsibility for Charlie if anything happens to us, and as such needed to be informed of exactly what we’d taken on with Leo and Lila. If not for that, we wouldn’t have told him either.”

  Fliss apparently had no argument for that. She huffed and turned her face to the window. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Reg sighed and activated the windscreen wipers to combat the drizzle that had begun to fall when they’d hit the motorway. “We don’t have all the details of the police case before the fire, only what came next, but we were told that a restraining order had been in place for a long time when their father returned to the family home.”

  “Had he breached it before?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible that he had, but it wasn’t reported, or that the police didn’t act on it.”

  “Idiots,” Fliss muttered. “What’s the point of a restraining order if no one enforces it?”

  “Now, now,” Reg counselled. “We can’t judge a situation that we know so little about. Ignorance is no excuse for an unfair verdict.”

  Fliss snorted. “Unfair on who? ’Cause it seems to me that Leo’s getting the worst end of it now.”

  “Maybe so, but he’s not blameless in the trouble he finds himself in today. No one made him attack that boy.”

  “Didn’t they?” Fliss shook her head. “Dad, he spent fifteen years with that man. How can we expect him to know any different?”

  “He is different.” The words were out before Charlie could check them. “He’s not like that, Fliss. You know he’s not.”

  Fliss glanced over her shoulder. “Of course I do. I told you that at home. I just mean that his behaviour doesn’t always match who he is, and that’s not his fault, is it, Dad?”

  Reg said nothing, his eyes trained on the road. Charlie sat up and put his hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what happened next, then. If you think I’m wrong—that you know Leo better that I do—tell me why.”

  “You’re not wrong. And your mother and I are so proud of the way you’ve both welcomed Leo and Lila into our home. It’s just—” Reg stopped, and Charlie knew that if he hadn’t been driving he would’ve briefly closed his eyes, centred himself, the way he often did when he was about to say something Charlie and Fliss wouldn’t like. “Leo is very damaged, Charlie, on the inside as much as his injured arm, and I don’t think we truly knew how troubled he was until today.”

  Charlie wanted to scream. Reg was the master of discretion, but Charlie couldn’t handle another nonanswer from him. Not now.

  And, finally, Reg seemed to sense that it was time to be frank. “The day of the fire was extremely traumatic for Leo and Lila. They lost their home, and their mother, and both of them continue to suffer the consequences of that fire.”

  Charlie had figured that Leo’s mother was dead. He waited for Reg to go on.

  Reg changed lanes and took his cue. “From what I understand, it was breakfast time when Leo’s father returned to the family home after a long absence. He got inside somehow, and things turned violent. Leo’s mother was killed in a struggle—with a knife, I believe—and the house caught fire in the aftermath, trapping Leo and Lila in a kitchen cupboard where their mother had hidden them.”

  Charlie took a breath and steeled himself for what was coming next, though he already had a pretty good idea—Lila’s weak chest and Leo’s ruined arm had seen to that. “Did their father let them go?”

  Reg shook his head. “No. Leo had to fight him to try and escape, and then—” He stopped again.

  Frustration bubbled over in Charlie’s gut. “What, Dad. What? Just tell me. I live with his scars too.”

  But Reg faltered, blinking fiercely at the road, and it was Fliss who turned to face Charlie. “The bastard barred the kitchen door, pulled a table across it so Leo couldn’t kick it down. He’d already pocketed the back-door keys.”

  “He left his kids inside to die?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlie sat back in his seat, numb, save for the roiling beast in his gut. “But they didn’t die.”

  His whisper was for his own sanity as much as the others, and Reg returned to himself and met Charlie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “No, they didn’t die, but Leo was badly burned. The flames reached them before they could get through the only window that wasn’t locked. The firefig
hter’s report said that Leo’s T-shirt was on fire when he fell to the ground outside.”

  It took a few seconds for Reg’s words to sink in, but the imagery reached Charlie first—the fire, the smoke. Lila’s terror. Leo’s screams as the flames licked his ruined flesh. Oh, Leo.

  “Stop the car,” Charlie gasped. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Leo’s secret place was much like the sanctuary Charlie had offered him under the canal bridge, but instead of the lapping water, there were birds rustling the bushes, and squirrels playing in the trees. Before the fire, Leo had spent most of his days in these woods, sitting at the foot of the biggest tree, finding comfort in its broad trunk, even in the rain.

  Especially in the rain, and it was raining now, big fat drops that cooled his heated skin. He tried to imagine that the clean water would heal the burning mess on his arm, but reality was too painful for that particular fantasy. And the pain was currently the only thing keeping him awake. Fighting, running, and bunking the train to Swindon had been apparently exhausting, and if not for his arm, he’d be fast asleep.

  Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve slept here. Leo closed his eyes and thought of the sticky summer evening when he’d first snatched Lila from her cot and run all the way here, knowing that Dennis couldn’t pass the pub without going inside. Wendy had trusted him to keep Lila safe, and he’d stayed here all night with Lila asleep in his arms, waiting for Dennis to go to work the following morning. He repeated the routine a dozen times over the years, before the police had started fetching him home.

  Bastards. Hadn’t they understood that Leo had had a plan? That if they’d left him alone, he’d have eventually grown up enough to deal with Dennis himself? They let him kill my mum.

  The rain on Leo’s face was suddenly warm. He swiped at his eyes and scrambled to his feet. He didn’t cry at the tree. Never had. And he wouldn’t cry now. He picked through the dark woods, glad that the path hadn’t changed much in his absence. The police had often used dogs to find him and Lila, but Leo needed no help to find his way, just the shape of the trees in the moonlight.

  A series of crooked branches led him to the alleyway behind the old house. A brick wall had replaced the rotten fence, and a smart new gate had been fitted at the back. Leo was tempted to scale it, but his arm hurt too much. Instead, he went around the front and squeezed under the tarpaulin that concealed the gap in the scaffolding attached to the house. It was a tight fit, but Leo was slimmer than he’d ever been, and perversely enjoyed the scrape of the bricks against his skin.

  The back garden was a boggy mess, ruined first by the clomp of fireman’s boots, and then the subsequent building work to make the house safe. Leo’s feet squelched in the mud until he came to Wendy’s favourite place: the rockery by the shed. Leo ran his hands over the moss-covered stones. In the dark, they felt like velvet, and he smiled. He’d tell Lila about them. She’d like that.

  But you’re not going to see Lila again.

  Leo’s smile faded. How had he forgotten? Because if he got away from whoever was likely chasing him by now, he’d never be able to go back to Heyton—not for Lila, or Charlie. I’ll be dead to them. Perhaps he already was.

  He sat on the wet ground, and then lay down as his body gave up on him. The cold seeped through his torn school shirt and into his bones. His heart wept for Lila, but it cried out for Charlie. Leo had never been cold around him, even walking to school in the frost, their every breath turning to mist and mingling with the smoke of Leo’s morning joint.

  I was happy then.

  I miss him.

  Leo closed his eyes. Soon he’d have to move—get up and bunk another train to the end of the world—but, for now, he allowed himself a brief moment with his Charlie-themed dreams that would never come true.

  “Leo.”

  “Leo.”

  “Dad, he’s not waking up.”

  “Give him a minute, son. It’s pretty cold out here.”

  The voices startled Leo, rousing him from that weird kind of sleep that wasn’t really sleep at all—rather a restless doze that teased him with rare moments of blissful oblivion that he wasn’t prepared to let go of just yet.

  Go away.

  But the words stayed inside as the closest voice whispered his name again. Charlie. No. He had to be dreaming. Charlie didn’t belong in Swindon, or in the bleak future that Leo had resigned himself to, and there was certainly no place for him in the muddy garden of the burned-out house Leo had once called home.

  “Leo.”

  Leo shook his head and flinched away from hands that were definitely not Charlie’s.

  “Leo.”

  Damn it. Even in his sleep, Leo couldn’t ignore Fliss. He opened his eyes a crack. Fliss was glaring down at him. He blinked, sure she’d disappear, but she didn’t, and he couldn’t deny that her warm palm felt nice on his freezing chest. “Charlie?”

  It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but like magic, Charlie was suddenly there, the heat of his touch leaving Fliss in the shade. “I’m here, Leo,” he whispered. “But you’ve got to sit up so we can get you warm, okay? Dad needs to take you home.”

  Dad. For a long moment, the term meant nothing, but then Reg loomed out of the shadows and reality crashed down on Leo like a frigid wave of despair.

  Dad.

  Reg.

  Heyton.

  Fuck.

  Leo lurched away from Charlie and Fliss, already mourning the loss of Charlie’s addictive touch. “Piss off. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “No, Leo,” Fliss said. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be at home with Lila.”

  Leo laughed—he couldn’t help it—and jabbed a finger at Reg. “That’s where you think he’ll take me? Home for a cuppa and a game of Uno? Yeah, okay. I know where I’m going, and it’s not anywhere with him.”

  “Why not?” Charlie’s voice was low and pleading. “Reg has only ever tried to help you. Why would now be any different?”

  “He doesn’t want to help me. He wants to get rid of me.”

  Fliss snorted. “So? If you don’t want to stay anyway, what’s the problem? At least come home and get your stuff. Say good-bye to your sister. ’Cause you don’t think social services are going to move her again, do you? When she’s doing so well?”

  “I don’t want her to move.” Leo hadn’t realised how true it was until he said it, and by the sudden light in Fliss’s eyes, it appeared that for once, he’d said the right thing. “I don’t.”

  “Why not?” Fliss stepped forward, pulling Charlie behind her before he could protest. “It’s because you trust Mum and Dad, isn’t it? You know they’ll look after her, keep her safe . . . protect her, when you’re not around?”

  Leo bit his tongue, drawing blood, and absorbing the perverse comfort that came with the bitter, metallic taste. “Kate looks after her.”

  “Not on her own, she doesn’t. And she’s not looking after her now—Andy is. Thanks to you, Kate has a house full of social workers and policemen, and you don’t want Lila to see all that, do you?”

  “Fliss.” Reg stepped forward and put a hand on her arm. “That’s enough now. We didn’t come here to be angry with Leo. He’s as upset as the rest of us.”

  “Is he?”

  Fliss’s tone dripped with disbelief, and Leo’s resolve crumbled a little. Lila and Charlie had his heart to themselves, but he couldn’t handle Fliss’s scorn, even though what logic he had left warned him that she was playing him—tricking him into admitting that the idea of Lila being with Andy didn’t bother him in the slightest.

  But it’s not Andy that she wants you to trust, is it?

  As if on cue, Reg took another step forward, but he didn’t move past Fliss; he stopped at Charlie’s side and enveloped him in the kind of father-son hug that had always mystified Leo. Reg said something, and Charlie’s reply was muffled too, but a soft gasping sound reached Leo, and he belatedly realised that Charlie was crying.

  I want to die.

 
Leo took advantage of Reg’s distraction and made a run for the gate.

  He’s gone.

  It took Charlie a moment to process the dark space where Leo’s shivering form had just been. Because it hadn’t been Leo standing there—pale, cold, and covered in blood, his eyes so vacant he looked like a ghost.

  “Dad.” He wriggled free of Reg’s embrace as Fliss’s shout rang out.

  “Dad! Leo’s gone.”

  Reg spun around, and for the first time that Charlie could recall, a curse escaped him. “Shit. Right. You two go back to the car. Leo’s in no state to have gone much distance, and I think I have an idea where he’s headed.”

  “Dad—”

  “No, Fliss. This has gone far enough.”

  They all picked their way out of the muddy garden, squeezing past the scaffolding. Charlie’s hunch that Leo had returned to his old home had proved true, but he had no idea where Reg thought he might go next, or how he’d know. “Dad, I think—”

  “Charlie! Go back to the bloody car!”

  Charlie flinched and stumbled back into Fliss. She caught him and tugged him away from Reg, who was squinting down the alleyway beside the house. “Come on. Dad’ll find him, I promise.”

  How she could be so sure, Charlie had no clue, but her grip on him left him little choice but to accompany her to the car as Reg disappeared into the night.

  Fliss bundled him into the back, then got in the front and started the engine, flooding the car with heat that Charlie barely felt. Didn’t want to feel while Leo was still out in the cold. “I don’t understand. Where’s Dad gone? How can he know where Leo is when he didn’t even suspect that he’d be here?”

  “I don’t know, kid. Perhaps there’s something in that damn fucking file that I didn’t see.”

  “Thought you only skimmed it?”

  Fliss shrugged. “I did, but I thought I’d absorbed everything that mattered. Serves me right for snooping.”

  “I’m glad you looked. You’d never have been so nice to Leo and Lila if you hadn’t.”

  “You think?”