Beautiful Child

by Menon, David

  ‘They loved you? Cared for you? Made sure you had everything you needed?’

  ‘Yes, Paddy.’ said Angela, ‘They did.’

  ‘Remind me to ask you one day what that feels like’ said Paddy as he looked down and shuffled his feet around on the floor. ‘I’d like to know.’

  Angela smiled, out of sadness instead of joy. ‘I will, but back to you now.’

  Paddy shifted in his seat. ‘It was called the Brothers of St. Peter Home for Boys although the definition of home had become a bit twisted in all their shit. Anyway, it was in North Sydney, New South Wales in Australia and it had taken me the best part of two months to get there. I remember there was this big iron gate at the head of the short drive to the house itself that had a padlock and chains all around it. Life had turned on me and I’d done nothing to deserve it. It was supposed to be the lucky country. That’s what they called Australia back then but I felt anything but lucky, doc.’

  ‘Hardly surprising.’

  ‘But that was only the first home I was taken to,’ said Paddy. Then he laughed lightly. ‘You could call it the reception class. Anyway, I actually grew up at another home further north on the edge of the city. It was on top of a hill and overlooked the ocean…’

  1963

  Sean had never wanted to see another ship again after he’d gotten off the one that had brought him to the other side of the world after nearly two months at sea. At first during the voyage he held himself tightly and didn’t speak to anyone. But gradually the noise and the chatter of the other children made him open up and by the time they reached Australia he’d made several friends. None of them had known what had happened to their Mums or Dads. Some had been told by the Nuns that their parents were dead and some had been told that their parents simply didn’t want them anymore and that they should be grateful to the church for taking care of them. But the fact was that all of them needed each other to hang onto. They had nobody else in the world and they’d been brought to this strange land where people spoke with funny accents and they’d been told not to go into the woods because of all the snakes.

  But what Sean was getting used to was people coming into his life one minute and being gone the next. None of the girls on the ship had been brought to the first children’s home he’d gone to and only a handful of the other boys had gone there too. They were fed. They were given drinks of water. Then they were beaten every night. Then when he was moved to this home and the years rolled by, the monks would come along with their straps and lash the palms of their hands as a warning against masturbation when they went to bed. They were getting into being ‘that age’ they were told and the almighty God working through the Catholic church considered masturbation to be a sin. The fact that many of the boys didn’t know what masturbation was didn’t matter. They had to be brutally warned against doing it.

  Then one night it had all changed. Not for the other boys but for Sean. Brother Michael had come to Sean’s bed and asked if he was alright. Shaking and terrified he answered that he was. Then Brother Michael slid his hand under the blanket and placed it on Sean’s private parts. Sean froze. He felt something happening and he didn’t know what to do. Then Brother Michael told him to quietly get out of his bed and come along to his study with him. When he got there Brother Michael made him lie down beside him under another blanket. He didn’t dare say a word as Brother Michael told him exactly what to do.

  ‘Do you want to carry on, Paddy?’ asked Angela, breaking a silence that had fallen onto the room.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Paddy. It was almost as if he’d been in a trance. Angela’s voice had carried him out of it.

  ‘I was asking if you wanted to carry on? We can pick it up next time if you like?’

  ‘Sorry, doc,’ said Paddy. ‘I’m going back into a place inside my head that’s so dark… but no, I do want to carry on. If I break now I’ll never get started again.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, softly. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

  1969

  Sean developed a way of using his ‘special’ times with Brother Michael as a means of maintaining a quiet life. Nobody bothered him. He was never lashed for anything which was a blessing in itself considering that some of the boys were lashed to within an inch of their lives just for trying to hold their own. There was a dungeon in the home and nobody who ever went in there came out without having to be supported just to stand up.

  But something else was puzzling him more than the daily brutality of life in the home. Why wasn’t anyone coming for them? They’d been told on the ship time and time again that families all over Australia were just waiting to take them in and give them good homes. But if that was the case then where were they? True enough many of the boys had gone but many still remained to work as slaves for the brothers and other sections of the church. Some were hired out to local farms and Sean thought they had it best. At least they came into contact with men who didn’t want to stick it up them. But then again, being around normal people for eight hours made it seem even worse when they came back to their abnormal life at the end of the day and some of the farmers didn’t treat the boys much better than the brothers did.

  Sean spent hours just watching local school kids of his own age walking along; laughing, talking, joking and fooling with each other. He wondered what they’d done that was so right and what he’d done that was so wrong. They had Mums and Dads to take care of them. All he had was a man in a gown who pounded his arse every night.

  The boys never went to the beach like all the local kids. They didn’t have television sets at the home. They didn’t have bicycles to ride or board games to play. The hours were long, especially at the weekends and during the holidays but absolute obedience always had to be maintained. Their birthdays were never noticed. Christmas Day was never more than one long church service where the boys were expected to be thankful for what they’d got. They were never touched unless it was to abuse. Nobody ever told them that they loved them. When they reached their teenage years like Sean had all they were told was that nobody was ever going to come now and they’d better get used to it. It was too late because they were too old. They’d have to work through their time until the church kicked them out and told them to fend for themselves.

  ‘And yet, doc, inside I was shouting and screaming. I had a Mum! She’d left me at the home that day but maybe if they checked she might’ve changed her mind. They acted as if my life had only started the day she left me at the home back here in England. I had to erase everything about before then.’

  ‘Which is another reason why you’ve left it all out of the book?

  ‘Yes,’ said Paddy. ‘I’d gotten so used to doing that.’

  ‘Blanking out the happiness.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Paddy. ‘That puts it perfectly. But then again, doc, this was the sixties. Everybody was supposed to be feeling free. Men were landing on the moon but I’d had my life ripped away from me and nobody bloody cared about my feelings. I was surrounded by priests who saw me as nothing more than an arse to fuck. Every day was relentless. It was like being in a long dark tunnel with no sign of light at the end of it. It was hard, doc. It was so fucking hard I can’t tell you and that’s why those bastards who say I shouldn’t profit from getting my story out are wrong, doc. I’m owed, doc! I’m fucking well owed the fucking world!’

  Paddy then put his head in his hands and wept.

  Angela went back to the prison the next afternoon at the request of Paddy who said he wanted to keep on talking. Before she got there she spent some time researching. The children’s home he’d been sent to as a boy had long since closed down. The church it had been attached to was still there though and she was planning to go and speak to someone who might be able to shed some light on the church’s former policy of sending children to Australia. She’d looked it all up on the internet and been able to find out a lot of ‘facts.’ But now she wanted to add the ‘personal.’

  ‘So how are you today, Paddy?’

&n
bsp; Paddy looked mischievously at her. ‘Aw, you know, doc’ he said ‘I keep up my walks in the park, I go down to that little Italian near the docks because I really like the way they make their lasagne, oh and I think I might go up to Scotland for the weekend.’

  Angela smiled shrewdly at him. ‘It’s only the bars inside that I can take away, Paddy. The rest will be subject to the findings of the parole board.’

  ‘I know, I know, doc,’ said Paddy. ‘I shouldn’t tease you like that.’

  Angela sighed and felt humble. She’s the one who shouldn’t ask questions that were so stupid to somewhere whose actions had led to his freedom being taken away. It was what had led him there that she was interested in.

  ‘Paddy, we’d got through to your teenage years’ said Angela. ‘Tell me how the Paddy of that age was feeling about life and what was happening to him?’

  ‘Aren’t you going to be any fun today, doc?’ said Paddy. ‘We always have some fun as well as dealing with all the serious shit.’

  ‘Let’s talk first.’

  ‘I felt abandoned.’ said Paddy after a pause, ‘Still after all the years I’d been left at the children’s home, I felt abandoned. I felt like nobody loved me.’

  ‘Which they didn’t’

  ‘Which they didn’t.’ said Paddy. ‘Or else how could my Mum have left me like that? I was still a child. In some ways I think I always will be that little boy who had to grow up a lot faster than he should’ve done.’

  1972

  The boys’ home was halfway up a hill that stretched from the ocean at the bottom to the main town at the top. It was where Sean came to sit and think about what he was going to do when the church threw him out. Some of them talked about trying to get home to England but Sean didn’t know how he would ever start with that. They were all mouth. Where would they get the money? Nobody would help them. They’d end up getting jobs and dirty little units in the not so nice parts of towns that they were never meant to see. They’d forever be the kids that had been dumped by their own parents and taken in by a church that thought it was no good showing them any love. They had to prepare them for the cruel world out there by beating the hell out of them or using them for sex.

  He could always tell when Brother Michael was near by and approaching. Even up here on the hillside where the smells of the elements and the view of the vast open sea gave Sean some temporary relief from the misery of his existence, Brother Michael’s signature aroma managed to pollute Sean’s moments with nature.

  ‘Hello, Sean,’ said Michael who sat down beside him on the ledge that overlooked the ocean. He felt rather precarious. ‘You’re not afraid that a snake might slither along here? This is just the sort of habitat they like.’

  ‘I’ve never been bothered by one so far,’ said Sean who’d rather have to face one of Australia’s most venomous reptiles than have his arse pounded by this sick bastard every night..

  ‘You know you’re not supposed to be down here? There’s no danger signs or cordoned off parts but you’re told not to come.’

  ‘You’ve just got to be careful,’ said Sean.

  ‘Well it can be part of our secret’ said Brother Michael. ‘If you behave yourself. You come here every day, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see you’ said Brother Michael. ‘My window overlooks this spot as you well know young man. But it’s only my window that overlooks this spot. It’s only me who knows you come down here.’

  Sean closed his eyes and tried to dream the filthy pervert away. His little piece of the world had now been contaminated. He could see his skin, his fingernails, his face looking as if nothing he was doing could ever be wrong. He could see his big legs slapping against his own when he was fucking him and his hands holding him steady at the shoulders.

  ‘Well,’ said Brother Michael ‘You’ve had your little taste of freedom. Come back with me now.’

  Sean took a deep breath and then said ‘No.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said “No”.’

  ‘Repeat that again.’

  ‘No.’

  Brother Michael slapped Sean around the head. Sean leapt up to his feet.

  ‘Leave me alone!’

  Brother Michael was so shocked he still hadn’t thought about standing up. Sean was almost as tall as he was and this sudden onslaught of courage was worrying.

  ‘Sit down, Sean.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Do as you’re told, Boy, or you’ll know what will happen to you.’

  ‘I said and I meant “no”.’

  ‘You want to go in the dungeon with Brother Charles? You won’t come out for days if I have the right word with him and I’ve never known a boy last for more than three in there.’

  ‘You don’t get it’ said Sean. They’d never get him in that dungeon. They’d have to fucking catch him first. ‘I’m not letting you do all that shit to me anymore.’

  Brother Michael was incensed at this show of disobedience. ‘You’ll do as I say when I say…’

  Sean didn’t know quite how it happened but as Brother Michael tried to stand up he must’ve caught his legs in his floor-length gown and he couldn’t get his balance. He was teetering on the edge with the backdrop of the ocean behind him. Sean smiled. Brother Michael locked eyes with him and Sean smiled again.

  ‘Sean, help me!’

  Sean placed his hand in the middle of Brother Michael’s chest and pushed him over. Brother Michael fell backwards, his face contorted in shock, and then twisted through the air to the sharp rocks below. Sean watched as Brother Michael’s body dropped into the Pacific with a rapidly expanding slick of blood around it. Sharks had been seen in the area in recent days. That brought a smile of satisfaction to Sean’s face. Time for dinner, boys and girls.

  Sean’s moment of pleasure was short-lived however. He turned and saw Andy Cook, who was the same age as Sean, but not nearly as clever. Andy was unusual at the home because he was an actual Australian.

  ‘I’m telling’ said Andy.

  ‘Telling who about what?’

  ‘Don’t try it with me Sean!’

  ‘Oh am I meant to be scared by that? Look, you’ll keep your stupid little mouth shut.’

  ‘And what if I don’t?’

  Sean almost laughed at the stupid little prick’s bravado. He walked over to him.

  ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut. Okay?’

  ‘Why? Are you going to kill me too?’

  ‘It might come to that,’ said Sean. ‘I’ll do anything to survive this place until I can get out. And I mean anything.’

  ‘Yeah? Well I’ll do anything too and that’s why I’m telling.’

  Andy turned to run back to the main house when Sean grabbed hold of him and swung him round. Andy fell to the floor but kept on rolling and before either of them knew it he was over the edge and hurtling towards the same fate as Brother Michael. Sean hadn’t intended that but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Sean looked round. Nobody had seen. But soon the police would be all over the place and everybody knew about his special relationship with Brother Michael. The brothers would direct the police to him with no problem. They wouldn’t tell of the abuse of course. They’d say that he was a liar who was always accusing poor Brother Michael of abusing him. He wouldn’t stand a chance. As for Andy Cook, Sean felt desperate about that but at least it meant that Andy wouldn’t be talking. Andy wouldn’t be doing anything from now on. And Sean felt sick about it. Andy wasn’t a bad kid and he’d suffered just like the rest of them had. But now wasn’t the time to reflect on the life and times of Andy Cook.

  Now was time to run as fast and as far as he could.

  ‘What do you think now when you think of Andy Cook?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Like I really am a murderer’ said Paddy as the tears began to flow down his cheeks. ‘Doing what I did to poor little Andy was the worst of my crimes, doc. I’ve felt that way for a long time
now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he was the only one who didn’t deserve it.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sara had gathered her team together in the squad room for a briefing on the Rita Makin murder. Superintendent John Hargreaves was also there. DS Adrian Bradshaw was sat at his desk, shoulders forward, hands clasped together on the desk, eyes wide and keen. DS Joe Alexander was leaning back in his chair, looking more relaxed but his attention clearly focused. Superintendent Hargreaves was perched on Joe’s desk, his legs dangling, his arms straight and his hands on the edge. The only one missing was DI Tim Norris, who’d rang Sara and excused himself so that he could attend to some ‘personal business.’ She’d not been entirely pleased and it had raised the superintendent’s eyebrows too.

  ‘How long had she been dead, ma’am?’ asked Adrian.

  ‘About three days, DS Bradshaw’ Sara answered. ‘According to forensics there were two other traces of finger prints in the room. We’ve run them both through the national database and it’s come up with nothing. There are no known matches for either. But there was no sign of a disturbance or of a burglary.’

  ‘What about the rest of the house, ma’am?’ asked Joe.

  ‘One of the other sets of prints were found all over the rest of the house, Joe,’ replied Sara, who’d been a bit concerned about Joe lately. He hadn’t been his usual cheerful self. She wondered if it might be women troubles or a lack of them. She didn’t want to get into the habit of playing Mother Hen to her squad but she liked Joe and would want to help if she could.

  ‘So what are your theories, DCI Hoyland?’ John Hargreaves asked at last.

  ‘That Rita Makin knew her killer, sir. The door hadn’t been forced open. She’d got herself dressed up and there was a bottle of wine with two glasses on the coffee table in the living room.’

  ‘She’d been expecting someone?’

  ‘Clearly, sir’ said Sara.

  ‘A lover perhaps?’

  ‘Perhaps, sir’ said Sara before turning back to the big white board with Rita Makin’s photo on it and notes that had been scribbled on it with a thick black marker pen. ‘That may account for why one of the traces of prints are all over the rest of the house but again, with no sign of a disturbance. So we may be looking for someone who was intimately involved with Rita Makin but we’ll start our enquiries with her family, her friends, see if any of them knew if she was seeing someone. She had one daughter, Michelle, married to Warren and they have three boys. He says he was on his way home from his own parents and decided to call in. Rita was also well known at the local Catholic Church too and was close friends with the priest there, Canon Brendan O’Farrell.’