by Jody Medland
By the time she walked back outside, the top half of Christian’s body had disappeared under his jeep and a set of tools had been placed next to his water bucket.
That’s a mighty thorough clean! thought Amanda.
‘I just bumped into Karen,’ she said, winning his attention.
Christian pulled himself out into view and looked up at her.
‘Don’t worry. It happens to us all!’ he jested.
He was never too busy to fire a flirtatious smile her way, something she had played up to since their first encounter.
‘Seemed like she was on the warpath about something,’ prodded Amanda in an initial attempt to goad information from him.
‘She’ll be okay,’ he replied.
Amanda nodded.
H-m… maybe a change of tactic.
‘Your jeep’s in quite a state. You do some damage to it?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. The dirt tracks around here are crazy,’ he replied, grabbing hold of a spanner before disappearing under the vehicle again.
‘Did I hear you go out last night?’ she ventured.
She noticed his body become still for a moment.
‘Yeah. I tried to leave quietly,’ he assured her.
Didn’t you just? She wanted to say, in relation to the fact he’d let his car coast down most of the hill in darkness. It was, however, feasible that his actions were simply an act of courtesy.
‘Oh! It’s okay. It was late, though,’ she remarked.
‘I have trouble sleeping. Sometimes a drive helps.’
Oh really? In your hunting gear?
‘Like insomnia?’ asked Amanda.
‘Exactly!’ said Christian, who slid back out from under the jeep to grab hold of his jack. He placed the device on the ground next to the back wheel and, for the first time, he seemed to be avoiding eye contact.
‘Did it start when your wife died?’
‘You ask a lot of questions,’ he said, in a way that insinuated he wanted no more.
‘I know. Forgive me, it’s just… I’d like to know more about you. Not that I have a right to or anything. I mean, you can tell me to get lost or whatev—’
‘Without my wife, my dreams are over,’ he blurted, in a moment of honesty that took them both by surprise.
Amanda fell silent as Christian used a cloth to wipe smudges of oil from his arms and hands. His face was a picture of distant regret.
‘And without dreams, I guess there’s no need to sleep, right?’ he continued, his eyes beginning to water.
She stepped towards him. Ever so subtly, he recoiled. It was enough to let her know he didn’t wish to be held, yet he still seemed receptive to her sympathies.
‘Hey! It’s okay,’ said Amanda, softly. ‘I know how it feels to lose someone.’
*
Back across the yard, Georgina and Gordon had angled a large plank of wood from the bench to the ground and were playing fondly under Karen’s supervision, whose face seemed likely to cave at the sight of the children’s joy.
‘Roll the boss, Gord,’ prompted Georgina.
‘Yah!’
His arm shot out and he rolled an iron ball down the plank, which soon thudded onto the ground.
‘Where is it?’ asked Georgina.
‘Down the bottom. To the left,’ he informed her.
‘The left?’
‘Yah. On the left. Down the bottom. You go first. Sunday 13th February, 1972. Georgina’s go. Knuckle-down.’
Georgina, armed with a dusty white ball, prepared to roll it down the plank – the object of the game being to get the most number of balls closest to the “boss” ball after each player had rolled three times.
Karen’s scowl worsened as she nudged Walter. He looked up from his paper and she nodded towards the car park, where Amanda and Christian were locked in a tender embrace. It was an image that made Karen’s blood boil. Whatever Amanda’s reasons for getting close to Christian, she was enraging the most ruthless of enemies.
CHAPTER NINE
The Boy from Room Four
Sunday 13th February, 1972
Amanda was undoubtedly making progress with her investigation, but as she helped Margaret prepare dinner her eyes continued to wander back to the kitchen clock that ticked away relentlessly on the wall. She could not escape the fact she was running out of time and if she was going to be satisfied she’d done all she could, she would have to be more aggressive in her approach.
‘Maggie, where’s David?’ she asked.
Margaret, in the midst of peeling potatoes, hesitated – only for the slightest moment, but enough to let Amanda know the question made her feel uneasy.
‘I’m sorry dear?’ she said, clearly buying herself a little more thinking time.
‘David. The boy from room four. You showed me his bedroom but I haven’t met him yet,’ she queried.
‘Oh yes. Of course! Young David,’ said Margaret, trying to disguise her discomfort. ‘He’s being disciplined,’ she eventually revealed.
‘Disciplined?’
‘Yes. By Christian.’
‘Disciplined how?’ asked Amanda, sensing that she wouldn’t like the answer.
‘The usual. Time in the isolation room,’ Margaret informed her, smacking her lips together as though her mouth was dry.
‘The isolation room?’ Amanda repeated, judgingly. ‘Is that on the top floor?’
‘That’s right, dear,’ Margaret confirmed.
‘Maggie, I’ve been here since Friday! The boy’s been left alone for all this time?’
‘Well… I go and talk to him when I can, but Christian thinks it’s best he be left alone to think about what he did,’ revealed Margaret.
‘And what did he do, exactly?’
‘He tried to glue the doors shut and burn the house down when we were all sleeping.’
The answer was definitely more extreme than Amanda had expected. If it was true – and she had no reason to disbelieve Margaret – then the act was both shocking and malicious. Though quite why a young boy would behave in such a way was the main point of interest.
‘Don’t be too alarmed,’ said Margaret, responding to Amanda’s silence. ‘He’s a lovely boy. He just needs to be watched closely. He suffers from bouts of paranoia, you see.’
Amanda had read about paranoia in one of her books. It was often the cause of many extreme acts and many experts agreed that those who suffered from such psychological burdens were a significant danger within society because they were so incredibly unpredictable. One leading doctor from the States concluded that the key to crime prevention was in identifying the increasing frequency and severity of the person’s impulses as it was never a case of if such people committed heinous crimes, but when.
‘How often does he act like that?’ asked Amanda.
‘Sometimes he says he sees things; horrific things! We keep telling him it’s all in his head, but he won’t have it. He accuses everyone of being against him and gets himself in a right state. Walt thinks he may be schizophrenic,’ Margaret told her.
‘Walter isn’t qualified to make such judgements,’ Amanda seethed, becoming increasingly frustrated at the liberties they each appeared to be taking with a boy who was in clear and desperate need of help. ‘You know what? This is bullshit!’
‘I’m sorry?’ said Margaret, taken aback and unsure of how to react to Amanda’s sudden assertion.
‘Give me the key to the attic,’ Amanda demanded of her.
Feeling pressured, Margaret hesitated.
‘I can’t, my lovely.’
‘Give me the key to the isolation room. Please!’ asked Amanda, replacing her aggression with a tone that implied she only wanted to help.
‘Sweetie, I can’t. I don’t have it,’ Margaret informed her.
‘Then who does?’
Based on what Margaret had already said, Amanda assumed the person that held the key would be Christian. She was right. Had it have been Karen that was responsible for the boy’s misery th
en it would have made a lot more sense, but that Christian – a seemingly carefree and charming man – was capable of such sinister, dated behaviour without showing a shred of empathy was somehow more disturbing. To Amanda, it was evidence she could trust nothing she had seen so far within the home. She needed to see the boy and if confronting the homeowner was the only way to achieve that, then so be it.
*
‘No. Now’s not a good time,’ Christian said into the telephone.
‘Well, you said you wanted me to get my best guy and I got him,’ said a gruff voice on the other end of the line.
‘I appreciate that, but like I said, it’s a delicate time,’ repeated Christian, authoritatively.
Calling from a payphone in town was a rugged man named Andy. Many of the locals were afraid of Andy as he was feisty and never shied away from a fight. This didn’t bother Christian, though. In fact, the Christian that dealt with Andy so sternly cut a very different figure to the man that was often so playful around Amanda.
He looked up to the locked office door as it was tested from the other side. Frustrated, Amanda banged hard from the hallway.
‘Christian, it’s, Amanda. I’d like to speak with you, please.’
‘I’ll call you back,’ Christian said to Andy, hanging up before awaiting a response.
As Christian opened the door, Amanda looked sour and his mother flustered as she squirmed in the background. He monitored the pair of them with intrigue.
‘Can I help?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I’d like the key to the isolation room,’ said Amanda, bluntly.
‘Why’s that?’ asked Christian, calmly.
‘He’s been locked in there for far too long! That’s why!’ she simmered.
‘Look…’ began Christian, slinking back into his office as he arranged loose pieces of paper into a pile. ‘I appreciate your concern, but we have certain rules here. The children know where they stand with those rules and we can’t just change them without warning. It’ll confuse them,’ he claimed.
‘That’s very thoughtful of you but I feel confusion is probably less damaging than isolation,’ retorted Amanda, with a boldness that threatened to shed her false skin.
Christian took a moment to gauge her and suddenly Amanda became aware she had revealed a significant part of her true self. The exposure made her feel momentarily vulnerable.
‘This conversation is over,’ said Christian, reclaiming the seat at his desk and looking down at the paperwork he had assembled like a newsreader playing up for the cameras during the closing credits.
However, Amanda persevered, stepping into his office without permission – a simple act that seemed to irk Christian and worry Margaret greatly. She knew how particular her son was with his rules and feared Amanda would soon cross a line from which she would be unable to return.
‘Amanda love…’ she tried to interject, but Amanda’s cards were brazenly on the table.
For her, it was time to raise the stakes.
‘You know what? You were honest with me today so I’m going to be honest with you,’ Amanda began. ‘When I was young, my stepfather raped me. Repeatedly. Over and over again for almost three years. My mum stayed with him the whole time and when I tried to tell her, she didn’t…’
Amanda fought to stay focused amidst her emotions.
‘She didn’t believe me,’ she eventually added. ‘Looking back now, do you know who I blame for everything? I blame her. Not the man who touched me in ways he never should have; not the man who grossly took advantage of a helpless child, but my own mother, because she had the power to stop it and she chose not to.’
Amanda took a further step towards Christian’s desk as she locked her sorrow-filled eyes onto his.
‘Christian, the children in this house don’t need to be condemned. They can still live a happy life, but when David grows up, he’ll remember that you had the power to help him. He’s just a boy,’ she said, softly.
Suddenly, Karen marched towards the open office door.
‘What’s going on here?’ she spat, incensed at her exclusion.
‘Just a minute!’ said Christian, dismissing her as he considered Amanda’s plea.
He looked towards his mother, who stared straight back at him.‘Do you trust me?’ he asked of Amanda.
It was not the response she was expecting.
‘What kind of question’s that?’ she hesitated. ‘I hardly know you.’
‘But do you trust me?’ he asked again, with a little more intensity. ‘I am the homeowner. It’s my name on the wall. I wanted you to work here because, out of all the applicants, you were by far the best suited to this home. I chose you because I felt you would understand why we do things differently here.’
‘All I’m saying is…’
‘Please!’ interrupted Christian. ‘I have listened to you, and now I ask that you listen to me. You need to make a decision right now. Either you leave the home, with no hard feelings, and return to your life in the city, or you stay here. If you stay, I assure you, you will learn precisely why these rules are in place. This is your choice to make and yours alone, but today, right now, I cannot release David from the room. Nor can I let you inside.’
Amanda looked down. Her colleagues probably thought she was looking at the floor, but she was looking towards her belly, where she believed her own child lay. It was Sunday. The day she had promised to return home. Tony would be expecting her in the office that evening to report her findings, but she knew that when she saw her man, it would not be the story of the care home that would take precedent. Instead, it would be her turn to act in an uncharacteristically sentimental way. She would tell him that she loved him completely. She would inform him that she was carrying his baby and then they would go to bed and make love. It would be the beginning of their new life together; a future that had been destined all along.
Amanda had visited the home and stayed for three days as intended, and despite learning of some unorthodox methods, there was no stonewall evidence that the abuse the children had suffered came from the carers. Christian had given her the out she needed to walk away without suspicion… but there was something about the way he had just spoken.
“If you stay, I assure you, you will learn precisely why these rules are in place.”
Whatever did that mean? It was the most peculiar way he could have phrased it and, as with so many other facts regarding the home, she felt there was something just beneath the surface that, if she scratched just a little deeper, could lead to something of real significance.
She loved Tony. She knew that now and if she was true to him their love would last a lifetime. Therefore, what harm could a couple more days do?
‘I don’t care if it happens inside or outside of that room, but I want to meet David tomorrow. I’ve told you my reasons. Promise me that and I’ll stay,’ Amanda bargained.
Karen scoffed in the background.
Margaret frowned at Karen’s reaction as she held onto the hope Amanda had done enough to bring her son to his senses. As a silence ensued, Karen’s smug expression morphed into one of discomfort.
‘You can’t be considering this?’ Karen hissed.
‘Would you just be quiet?’ said Christian, shedding a little of his own false skin.
He looked back to Amanda and offered a hearty smile.
‘I promise. Tomorrow you can meet David.’
CHAPTER TEN
Testing Borders
Sunday 13th February, 1972
Amanda waltzed around the kitchen, adding creative touches to dinner as though she had been there for many years. Suddenly, she felt optimistic about her efforts making a difference towards the children within the house. No longer was Margaret the only one who lightened their mood. Instead, it had become a burden both women shared and this was a reality in which they revelled.
She pulled a block of cheese out of the fridge and then flipped open a couple of cupboards to retrieve a small grater and a large oven-proof dis
h. Tonight, she would make her special cauliflower cheese to accompany the roast chicken dinner both she and Margaret were preparing. Amanda had learnt how to cook when she was young on account of largely having to look after herself, but she never thought she’d enjoy the kitchen as much as she did at that moment. She looked up to notice Margaret staring at her; her usual grin replaced with a sullen expression.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Amanda.
‘Amanda Connors. Black hair. Light frame. Green eyes. Abusive father. Neglectful mother. Determined spirit. I knew I’d met you before.’
It was inevitable. Margaret had finally remembered her from Saint Matthews care home. Amanda’s initial reaction was to feel bad about saying she’d never heard of the place. If it wasn’t for Saint Matthews, and Margaret in particular, working so hard to stabilise her traumatic childhood, Amanda dreaded to think what would have happened to her. Denying the place was one thing, but telling an outright lie to Margaret was quite another.
‘Maggie, I…’
As far as Margaret was concerned, there was no need for words. Instead, she stepped towards Amanda and pulled her into a hug. Amanda chuckled at first, awkwardly patting the woman on the back. She expected the moment to soon pass, but it didn’t. Margaret pulled her tighter, making it clear she wouldn’t settle for a half-hearted embrace. Eventually, Amanda’s resistance fell and she held Margaret equally as tight.
‘What a fine, fine woman you grew up to be. I’m so proud of you,’ Margaret whispered sweetly. ‘Everybody at Saint Matthews would be, too.’
Her kind words took Amanda by surprise and somewhere deep down, they resonated. Suddenly, Amanda was the one who was clutching the tightest.
Right on cue, Karen entered in the midst of her candle-lighting routine. She frowned upon the alien behaviour taking place before her in a desperate attempt to belittle the moment, but it didn’t work. The two women continued the embrace and it was Karen who felt out of place by the time she quitted the room. On their own terms, Margaret and Amanda pulled away from one another, exchanging looks of genuine respect as they each ensured the other was okay. Tearful but happy, they moved around the room smiling as they continued their work in therapeutic silence.