‘Well, we need to be so careful how we present it, and make sure we’re fully aware of cultural norms.’
‘Child abuse is child abuse.’
‘Agreed; but we can’t separate the family from their culture. We need to be sensitive. Anyway, did you see Margaret last week? You know she’s moved to Tunbridge Wells. Right by my house – well, a short drive away. Her daughter’s passed the eleven-plus to get into Tonbridge Grammar School. She’s so delighted. All those school fees and tuition finally paying off!’
They carried on talking as I picked up your tiny hand and kissed it hard, so it would remember. ‘Keep safe,’ I whispered. ‘The wizard will not find you now.’
They led me to a room which had a Do Not Disturb – Meeting In Progress sign stuck to the window. Inside, on chairs arranged in a semicircle, were four women I had never seen before and a police officer, who had taken off a flat black hat and put it on to her lap, tapping it like a drum with her fingers. The doctor was there, standing by the window that only opened a few inches to stop people from jumping out – but what if there was a fire? How would they escape?
‘Deborah,’ said one. ‘We need to talk to you about some very serious things.’
‘I am Mama Elijah,’ I said. ‘That is how we take a name in my country. We take the name of our first-born child.’
The room was quiet enough to hear an aeroplane fly in the distance, above, through the tiny window gap. The spinning had stopped, but I felt as if my body would suddenly stop, too. I had never felt more tired.
Another woman sat forwards. She had buck teeth and eyebrows that grew all the way across. ‘Deborah, we need to talk to you about what’s going to happen.’
I looked at the air in the window gap. It wasn’t enough. I felt the start of the spinning at the back of my head. The voices in my ear were quiet at first. I felt the screwdriver go through the evil in Elijah. I felt it go inside him and inside me. And everything was still and quiet and the world was full of nothing except me and my son once more. But then – oh, there was so much blood. So much blood from such a small thing.
I turned my ears down low and prayed over and over: Dear Lord Jesus; please, sweet Lord; dear God, hear me now. Please, dear Lord …
But it was no good. The spinning got faster.
‘Deborah,’ said the police officer. ‘We will need to take you to the police station and get a statement from you, but first we need you to understand that Elijah, when he leaves this hospital, will not be returned to your care. While his injuries are being investigated, he will be taken into foster care.’
I let the room start to move – slowly, at first, the ground coming up to reach the ceiling. Then the ceiling back to the ground. I knew this would happen. They would take you from me. They would take you, and the wizard would climb right back inside your body.
I looked around the room and tried to focus on things: the small table with three old cups of coffee, the insides stained; the noticeboard with a picture of a pair of hands washing; the strip of light and the smoke alarm on the ceiling.
‘Deborah, we need to know that you understand. Deborah?’
The room stopped spinning suddenly but everything was back in the wrong order. ‘My name is Mama Elijah.’
The policewoman put her hat on and leant forwards. ‘We need you to come with us now. Is there someone we can call to stay with Elijah? Also, we will need to speak to your husband. Can you call him now, please?’
‘I cannot call Akpan. He is dead.’
The women looked from one to the other then back at me. ‘OK; well, we need you to come, please.’ One stood and waited for me to stand after her, but I sat.
‘I cannot leave Elijah. He is in danger. I cannot leave him.’
The policewoman sat again and removed her hat. ‘Can you call psych?’ she said to the other woman, who left the room. ‘Now, Deborah, this is really important. What do you mean, Elijah’s in danger?’
I looked at the woman. Even though she was police, and everyone knows that police are thieves who like nothing more than treating human beings like animals, she had a small cross around her neck and I knew she was a Christian. She might help me. ‘Elijah is sick.’
The policewoman nodded. ‘We know he’s sick, Deborah. The doctors and nurses are doing everything they can to help him.’
The room was spinning so much I could hardly keep my eyes open. I whispered, ‘He needs saving.’ I looked at the woman and her cross. I thought of your face, your skin, like the earth from home, the moon swelling like a heart in love.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Doctor Peters leant forward in his chair and lifted one of his legs on top of the other, showing a striped sock.
‘Your social worker tells me that you’ve been hearing voices telling you what to do.’
Elijah looked at Mum. She nodded. ‘Only one voice tells me what to do,’ he said.
Doctor Peters shuffled some papers on his desk. ‘Well, I think we’ll hold off on the medication front for now.’ He looked at Dad. ‘I’ve seen this kind of thing in my practice in Devon – sort of delusional thought in young people – but I’m reluctant to treat someone so young.’ He looked at Elijah. ‘After all, it’s the age of make-believe and also imaginary friends. Hearing and even seeing someone else at your age is not indicative of illness.’
Elijah had no idea what he was talking about. He focused on Doctor Peters’ stripy sock, and the pale white skin above it.
‘Have you been to Devon?’ Doctor Peters asked.
Elijah shook his head.
‘You ought to get Mum and Dad to take you.’ He smiled. ‘There’s very little that can’t be cured by fresh air and ice cream, I find.’
Mum was rubbing her tummy in the chair beside him and Elijah thought he heard a sound at the back of her throat. Dad coughed.
‘Well, that should do for now,’ Doctor Peters said.
‘That’s it?’ Mum stopped rubbing her tummy.
‘Yes – I’ll see you all again in two weeks. My advice is you carry on with the play therapy and get in touch if there are any major issues. But also plenty of ice cream.’ He winked at Elijah.
‘Elijah, would you wait outside, please?’ asked Mum. ‘We just need a quick chat with the doctor.’
Elijah shrugged, said goodbye and left the room. He put his ear to the door but could only hear Mum and Dad shouting questions, until he eventually heard Doctor Peters’ voice: ‘Now, let’s all calm down. You’re making far too much of the wizard business. He’s clearly just a troubled boy.’
*
Elijah knew the codes so well that, when Jasmin had flashed her torch three times then one slow time the night before, he’d known to expect her knocking for him that morning to walk to school together. What he hadn’t expected was what happened after they got through the school gates and said goodbye to Mum: Jasmin had led him by the arm towards the small fence at the back of the playground and they’d climbed right over. ‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a secret.’
Elijah followed Jasmin into the woods. The air smelt of honey.
He followed her footsteps, trying to step inside her footprints. They walked and walked and didn’t talk, but Elijah watched Jasmin’s every step. He thought about Mum and what the school would say when they found out that Jasmin and Elijah weren’t there. But Jasmin didn’t look worried at all. She never looked worried about anything.
‘Stop here,’ said Jasmin. Her face twitched around and up, looking at the light through the branches. ‘Perfect,’ she said, sitting down on an old log.
‘Why don’t you want to go to school?’
‘Sometimes I’m just not in the mood,’ said Jasmin. ‘Anyway, I only want to miss a little bit.’ Jasmin turned her face to Elijah. ‘All the time, you’re quiet now. Are you thinking about her?’ she asked. ‘Your real mum?’
‘Nikki is real,’ Elijah said. But his eyes filled with tears.
‘I’m talking about your other mum. The one whose tummy you gre
w in. Is that why you don’t want to play after school? Is that why your face is always sad?’
He looked at Jasmin and the forest around them. She was his best friend. He’d never had a friend like Jasmin, not even Ricardo. He felt around inside him for the wizard, but there was nothing. Emptiness. ‘I have a secret to tell you,’ he said. He couldn’t believe he would tell Jasmin. What if she didn’t want to be his friend any more? Who wanted to be friends with a wizard? But maybe she already knew. He looked at her face, her shining eyes, the trees around them. He made his tummy as hard as rock. ‘I am a wizard. I have superpowers and I can fly and make bad things happen. I can freeze people’s brains and start fires with laser eyes. And I can fly. It’s true; I can actually fly.’
He held his breath and waited. Jasmin looked at him and blew air towards his face. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds; then she looked back towards the school. ‘We’d better go back,’ she said.
‘You don’t believe me,’ he said, ‘do you?’
‘Of course I believe you.’
Elijah’s mouth dropped open. ‘Really?’ He was right, he had to be right, and Mama had been right about everything all along. And Jasmin believed him.
‘That’s why you’ve got a scar like Harry Potter. He’s a wizard and he’s got a scar on his head just like yours.’ She reached out towards him and touched his forehead. He closed his eyes and let his whole body fill with the smell of honey air and the softness of Jasmin’s fingertips and the feeling of being believed.
‘Anyway,’ whispered Jasmin as he opened his eyes, ‘I’m actually a mermaid. And I can breathe underwater.’
*
Mum borrowed a small grey dog called Bertie from Battersea for the afternoon so they could all take it for a walk. Bertie yapped and ran around, chasing its own tail until Elijah couldn’t help laughing. Dad held his hand one side and Mum held the other, and Granddad walked a little in front of them because he always walked really quickly.
The park was full of children running and kicking balls and riding their bikes. It was a sunny day with no wind, but one little boy was trying to lift his kite in the air and his Dad was running alongside him, throwing it up into the sky. Elijah couldn’t feel the wizard creeping around anywhere. They walked through the park and stopped at the park café for Dad to buy four lemonades, then they sat on a bench next to a big tree.
‘I love this tree,’ said Mum. She put her arm around Elijah and rested her glass of lemonade on top of her belly. It made Elijah smile.
‘Me too,’ said Dad. He looked at Mum over Elijah’s head. ‘What’s your favourite kind of tree, Elijah?’
‘I like all trees,’ said Elijah. He sipped his drink.
Mum, Dad and Granddad looked at where Elijah was pointing with his eyes. Bertie had his leg cocked up to one side and was using the tree as a toilet. Granddad chuckled. They watched Bertie run around and around trying to chase a squirrel, then the sky changed colour to almost the same shade as Bertie’s fur.
‘We better walk back before it starts pouring,’ said Mum.
‘And especially how slow you walk these days,’ said Granddad.
Mum reached towards Dad, waiting for some help up from the bench, but his phone began ringing and he pulled it out of his pocket.
‘Hey!’ Mum shouted, but Dad was busy walking ahead, talking on the phone. Mum let her arm drop and sat still.
Granddad took the dog’s lead from Mum’s hand. ‘We’ll let him chase that squirrel a bit longer.’
Mum got up slowly by herself and walked after Dad, but he was already far away. She was beginning to walk differently: side to side, instead of forward. The baby was growing bigger.
‘So, how was the doctor?’ Granddad put the lead on top of his lap. ‘Mum and Dad told me you went to see the new doctor.’
‘He doesn’t believe in wizards,’ said Elijah. ‘Where is Devon?’
‘Is that where he’s from?’
Elijah nodded.
‘Well, no wonder. People in Devon don’t believe in anything except cream cakes. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I told you already that there is no wizard inside you.’
‘Only you and Jasmin believe in wizards. Everyone else says they don’t exist, that if I stop believing, the wizard will go away, like Tinkerbell. But I don’t know how to stop believing something that is true.’
Granddad twiddled the lead on his lap and looked at Bertie running back and forth. ‘The world is a strange place. It’s OK to believe in different things. Lots of people around the world have different beliefs, and that’s fine. Do you feel like there’s a wizard inside you all the time?’
Elijah shook his head. ‘It comes sometimes, but it’s always waiting.’
‘I can’t see one inside you.’
Elijah shrugged. ‘It always comes back.’
‘I don’t think so, Elijah. I think the wizard is gone.’
Elijah looked at Bertie. It was beginning to rain; giant drops landed on top of them. ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘And I have to show Mum and Dad or they won’t be safe, and they won’t be able to help me. I have to prove it.’
Granddad pulled him closer, kissed the top of his head. ‘You don’t need to prove anything. It’s OK for people to believe different things.’
‘I will prove it,’ said Elijah, quietly.
‘I love you,’ said Granddad. ‘My little grandson. And God loves you too.’
*
They went every week to Chioma. Sometimes they played and sometimes they talked. They saw Ricardo at home. Mum and Dad showed Elijah things from his life-story report and told him things about Mama that Elijah didn’t want to hear. Sometimes he felt very angry. He couldn’t believe that there was no wizard living in him. He knew there must be because Mama couldn’t have been wrong. He couldn’t have hurt Mum without the wizard. But everyone told him how Mama was sick and how it was Mama who hurt him, even though she didn’t mean to. But Elijah didn’t believe it was true. The wizard was not just an idea Mama had put in his head. And it didn’t make sense that Mama put the wizard in his head, because all Mama wanted, even more than Elijah, was to get the wizard out.
One week, Mum and Dad said they thought it would be better to go into Ricardo’s office, because they had to read him something really hard, and they wanted to do it in the safest place possible. Ricardo opened a file on the table. ‘This is the report written by doctors who specialise in grown-ups who have something wrong in their brain. Your mama is very sick, Elijah. And she believes things because she is not well.’
Elijah looked at the report. ‘If Mama is sick then everyone from Nigeria must be sick. In Nigeria, everyone knows that wizards exist.’
Ricardo smiled. ‘Well, you’re right in one way, Elijah. Lots of people believe in wizards in Nigeria. But the vast majority of people in Nigeria, as in the rest of the world, would never dream of hurting a child. Nobody in the world, not your mama and not your church, should hurt a child. You’re just a child, Elijah, a wonderful boy. There is no wizard in you. And Dad, Granddad, Chioma, they’re all from Nigeria, the exact place your mama is from. They would never hurt you trying to take a wizard out. Mama is ill and she hears bad voices telling her to do bad things, but those voices aren’t real – it’s just her mind playing tricks.’
Elijah closed his eyes. The wizard’s voice was real. He heard it all the time.
‘Mum and Dad need to read something very difficult with you today. It might not make sense at first, but we will talk it through afterwards.’ Ricardo nodded at Mum and Dad, who came over to the sofa where Elijah was sitting and sat next to him on either side. Mum lowered herself carefully, keeping her back straight and bending at her knees. They put their hands on top of his as Ricardo read.
Deborah states, ‘There is a wizard living in my son and I need to drive it out.’ She is also suffering from auditory and visual hallucinations and paranoia that a ‘red car is constantly following me and they want to steal my son and use his body parts for magic.
’
Elijah was removed from her care after an alleged accident that resulted in Elijah being admitted to Lewisham Emergency department with a head injury and subsequently transferred to King’s College Hospital for emergency neurosurgery. The mechanism of injury was never fully explained but on skeletal survey Elijah was discovered to have old fractures and be severely malnourished. He was placed on the child-protection register under the categories of neglect, physical and emotional abuse, and Deborah was transferred to the Bethlem Psychiatric Hospital for assessment and treatment.
The room started spinning around. Elijah started to remember something. They were in the flat and it was cold. The moonlight burnt a patch on to the threadbare carpet. Mama was getting something from the drawer. He saw it coming and he heard her voice. Her face was above him but it looked different: hard.
‘Get out of my son!’ she screamed. ‘Get out of my son!’ Her voice was so different from the voice he heard inside him.
She was pressing on to his head with something so very sharp and hard that he almost couldn’t speak.
But he somehow managed: ‘It’s me, Mama. It’s Elijah. I’m not a wizard,’ he said. ‘I’m not a wizard.’
Suddenly, time changed and Mama walked up and down beside him like a leopard in a zoo. She wore stiff fabric that made a creaking sound when she moved. Her hair was not combed, and she was carrying an empty bottle of Coca-Cola, which she kept putting to her mouth as if she’d forgotten it was empty. The hospital was like a space ship: all buzzing, beeping white machines and men in masks. A television screen showed waves in different colours, a pattern, numbers. He was above the bed, looking down at his six-year-old body. Needles the size of earthworms were being pushed into his middle, his neck.
‘Put the albumin through the intraosseous line. Syringe it in quickly.’
‘Get the cooling mat – pack ice around his head.’
‘His pupils have blown – push through some mannitol and furosemide.’
‘Get neurosurgery down here quick.’
‘Somebody speak to his mother.’
Where Women are Kings Page 24