by C. L. Taylor
Where was Tony?
Arrested and in police custody.
What had happened to Jeff Kinsey?
Arrested and in police custody.
Dr Rothwell and Mrs H.?
The same.
The other kids at Norton House?
Returned to their parents.
The friends?
Arrested and in police custody. The orderlies too.
What was going to happen to the kids who’d already been brainwashed?
Dad said he was developing a treatment to reverse their conditioning.
And Norton House?
Closed and cordoned off from the public, pending a police investigation.
That was a month ago. Tony and Jeff Kinsey were released on bail after twenty-four hours. Pending further investigations, apparently, but Tony hasn’t come back to our house. I peered out of my bedroom window when he turned up in a taxi to get some of his stuff. I couldn’t see more than the top of Mum’s head as she shoved a suitcase and a couple of bin bags at him but I saw how quickly she turned away when he tried to touch her arm. And I heard her crying after the front door slammed shut. Dad hasn’t moved back in either. He’s staying with some friends while he and Mum get to know each other again. I’m not a kid. I didn’t expect them to fall into each other’s arms after so many years apart, but I desperately want them to get back together. Mum’s been talking about moving somewhere new. There are too many bad memories in Bristol, she says. I just hope she wants to bring Dad with us. Dr Rothwell and the Government stole eight years of our lives. I won’t let them steal our future too.
Now, I hear a soft snuffling noise from behind me and slip out from under Dad’s arm. Israel is doing his best to console Mouse but she looks as though her heart is breaking.
‘Mouse!’ I throw my arms around her and hold her tight. ‘It’s OK. Everything’s going to be OK.’
‘It’s just so sad,’ she says between sobs. ‘She shouldn’t have died. She was trying to do the right thing.’
Dr Cobey was the first therapist Mouse was assigned when she arrived at Norton House. Unlike Mason, Mouse didn’t open up to her. She didn’t know what a decent, kind, woman she was and how appalled she was when she discovered what was going on in the treatment unit.
‘In a couple of minutes,’ the Chancellor says, ‘we will unveil the plaque that will commemorate the life and work of Dr Rebecca Cobey but first, I’d like to invite Mason Finch to the stage.’
The huge crowd of people filling the small green park in the heart of the university grounds turn expectantly. The arrest of the Home Secretary was splashed across the front page of every newspaper in the country and, despite Mum and Dad’s best efforts, mine and Mason’s photos also appeared within the black and white pages. We can’t go anywhere without people pointing and staring. That’s another reason Mum wants us to move somewhere smaller. She knows how difficult it will be if we go back to our old schools. Then there’s Lacey. Unlike the rest of us, who’ve been really careful about who we speak to, she – or her mum – have been pedalling her story to any media outlet that will give her the time of day. You’d think Lacey was the one who’d been given electric shocks and tortured, rather than someone who spent most of her days lying on beanbags gossiping. I haven’t heard a thing about Jude and I’d rather it stayed that way.
Dad gives Mason’s shoulder a squeeze and Mum gives him a kiss then my brother is off, shoulders back, walking through the crowd that parts in his wake.
‘You OK?’ Zed (I’ll never be able to call her Evie) steps from behind Mouse and touches me on the arm. She never met Dr Cobey but she wanted to be here too, she said, to support us and pay homage to the woman whose bravery helped bring down the RRA. Charlie’s standing beside her, back in his skate uniform. It took half a dozen sessions with Dad before his brainwashing was reversed but he’s pretty much back to his old self now, according to Zed.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘But Mason’s bricking it. He must have read his speech half a dozen times on the train up here.’
‘Drew.’ Mum nudges me. ‘He’s on the stage.’
My brother looks so grown up, standing in front of a lectern, an enormous photo of Dr Cobey propped up on an easel to his right. It’s the same photo I saw on her LinkedIn page. Mason clears his throat then looks down at his notes.
‘My name is Mason Finch,’ he says in a strong, confident voice, looking out at the audience. Only the piece of paper, fluttering in his hands, betrays his nerves. ‘And Dr Rebecca Cobey saved my life …’
Out of the corner of my eye, I sense movement in the bushes at the edge of the park, and turn my head. There’s a flash, so bright it makes me blink, and then it’s gone.
‘Bloody paps,’ my dad grumbles. ‘This is a private service. You’d think they’d respect Dr Cobey’s memory but no, not if it means making a few quid –’
Mum nudges him and he falls silent.
‘Dr Rebecca Cobey was a gentle woman,’ Mason continues from the stage. ‘Kind, warm and understanding. When everyone else seemed to have given up on me, Dr Cobey listened to me without judgement. Without knowing it, she reunited my family. A family I thought was forever broken. Through Rebecca Cobey’s bravery she reunited me with the father I thought was dead.’ He looks up again. ‘I love you, Dad.’
There’s another flash from the bushes but, this time, I see two circular shapes glint before the light becomes so bright I have to cover my eyes. That isn’t a pap. It’s someone with binoculars. And they’re trained on us. I turn and glance up at the sky. The sun is covered by a cloud. They can’t have been binoculars, reflecting the light back at me.
‘You all right?’ Mouse says.
I want to lie and tell her that I’m fine but I’m done with lying. It used to make me feel safe, hiding behind different aliases, pretending to be someone else, but finally I’ve realized that this lot won’t judge me if I tell them how I feel. They know who I really am and they still want to be my friends. They’ve seen me at my best and my worst but they’re still here, supporting me, because they care.
‘I … er …’ I look from Mouse to Israel to Zed to Charlie, then open my arms wide to gather them close and lower my voice. ‘I thought I saw someone in the bushes, just now, watching us. Tell me I’m just being paranoid.’
‘Um …’ Mouse raises her eyebrows.
‘Actually, Drew …’ Israel says.
Zed and Charlie share a look. ‘We saw him too.’
‘Drew.’ Dad taps me on the shoulder. ‘Stop talking. Mason’s about to mention about you.’
Me? Mason let Mum and Dad read his speech but he refused to let me read it. I assumed he was scared I’d criticize something he’d written.
‘Listen.’ Dad loops his arm around my shoulders and twists me back to face the stage. Mum squeezes my right hand. Her eyes are red and puffy and there are white streaks in her foundation.
‘You Ok?’ I ask her.
‘I’m just … Mason’s been saying the loveliest things.’ She jerks her head towards the stage, indicating that we need to stop talking.
‘I know we’re here to celebrate the life and work of Dr Rebecca Cobey,’ Mason says, his voice booming out of the speakers on either side of the stage, ‘but I couldn’t make this speech without mentioning another brave, courageous woman – my sister, Drew Finch. When Dr Cobey risked her life to pass my message to my sister, she had no way of knowing whether Drew would do anything about it. I haven’t always been the best brother in the world –’ he looks straight at me ‘– and if it had been the other way round I probably would have shrugged my shoulders and ignored the note. But not Drew. She put her own life in danger to save mine. She is brave. She is fearless. And I am so, so proud to call her my sister. Drew, and Doctor Cobey, the kids at Norton House salute you. Together, you saved us and I, and dozens of others, will never, ever be able to thank you enough.’ His voice breaks on the word ‘enough’ and he drops his head, fighting back emotion. The crowd seems to hold it
s collective breath, waiting to see what he does next, then one person starts to clap. Then another and another and another until the whole park is clapping and cheering, smiling and crying. Mason raises his head, nods in embarrassment, then sprints off the stage and disappears back into the crowd.
‘Drew Finch,’ Dad says, tightening his grip on my shoulder and looking me straight in the eye, ‘I have never been more proud of you and your brother than I am today.’ He glances over the top of my head, at Mum. ‘We’ve never been more proud. Have we, love?’
‘Never.’ As Mum starts to cry again, Mason fights his way through the crowd of back-slappers and well-wishers.
‘Come here.’ Dad opens his arms wide and pulls Mason into his chest. He pulls me in too, and Mum, so we’re all bundled up together. My family. Finally, back together. This is all I ever wanted and I’m so happy I could cry but I’m scared too. Scared that something terrible is going to happen that will destroy my happiness.
‘Drew,’ Dad says. ‘Drew, look at me.’
I turn my head to look at him. My dad, my amazing, resilient dad. And my mum, her tear-stained face, so full of love. And Mason with his stupid floppy fringe and mischievous eyes.
‘It’s OK, Drew,’ Dad says. ‘You can relax now. You don’t have to protect us any more. There’s nothing to fear. Sweetheart, it’s over. Finished. Done.’
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to my editor Anna Baggaley for her enthusiasm, excitement and hard work. The Treatment is a story I’ve wanted to tell for a long time and it’s thanks to Anna and the team at HarperCollins HQ that Drew, Mouse and Mason have finally come to life within the pages of this book.
Thanks too to my amazing agent Madeleine Milburn for being so enthusiastic when I pitched the original idea to her – ‘Prison Break meets One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest but for teens’ – and for supporting and encouraging me as I wrote the first draft in the tiny snatches of time between my adult psychological thrillers. I’m also hugely grateful to Hayley Steed, Alice Sutherland-Hawes and Giles Milburn for all their hard work.
Thank you to Dr Jez Phillips - my go-to man for all things psychological. Despite being hugely busy he took the time to answer my questions about conditioning, reverse conditioning and brainwashing. Thanks to Dr Mark Moss for all his help.
I’d also like to thank my partner Chris Hall for patiently answering my questions about how Academies are run, how OFSTED works and other questions to do with the education system in the UK. As The Treatment is set in the near future I had to take a few liberties with the facts in order to make the story more dramatic so blame me for any inaccuracies, not him!
Big love to my family – Reg and Jenny Taylor, Bec Taylor, Lou Foley, David Taylor, Sophie Taylor (you’ll have to read this book now I’ve dedicated it to you!), Rose Taylor and Sami Eaton and the boys. Also, Ana Hall, James Loach, Angela Aspell, Nick Aspell, Steve Hall, Guin Hall and Great Nan. And to my extended family – there are too many of you to mention but I appreciate all your support.
Kate, Rowan, Miranda, Tamsyn, Julie – I love you all.
Writing two books in one year was tough – I had very little downtime – and I need to send more love Chris’s way for being so incredibly supportive and patient and for taking our son out and about on adventures at the weekend so I could grab a few extra hours. Seth, I love the fact you’ve started writing little stories of your own in your notebook before you go to bed. I’m so proud of you. You mean the world to me and I love you with all my heart.
Finally, I’d like to thank everyone who’s bought a copy of this book. I hope you enjoyed it. Do get in touch on social media to let me know what you think and if you’d like to join the free CL Taylor Book Club you’ll receive exclusive news, reviews, access to members-only giveaways and a free 9,000 word story, The Lodger just for signing up.
http://www.callytaylor.co.uk/cltaylorbookclub.html
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Copyright
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © C.L. Taylor 2017
C.L. Taylor asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © October 2017 ISBN: 9780008240578