Virtue? A smile tickled Donna’s mouth, despite her tortured heart. ‘No, it wasn’t like that, Agnes. He didn’t push for…’
‘Shush.’ Agnes flapped a hand, and turned her eyes back to the car park.
Donna followed her gaze, just in time to hear Mark gasp, ‘Pregnant!?’ rake his hand through his hair, and stare at Jody-kiss-kiss, quite obviously stunned.
Oh, dear God! Donna’s stomach dropped through the floor. She groped in her pockets for tissue, gave up, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and watched on.
Jody shrugging slim shoulders. Confused, Donna wondered, by Mark’s reaction?
Donna couldn’t see much else of her, her back to them as it was, other than her auburn curls, which were healthy and bouncy — and nothing like Donna’s hair could ever be.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mark said immediately, apparently realising he hadn’t been as ecstatic as he should be. ‘It’s great, Jody. Really great. We’ll manage somehow, don’t worry,’ he assured her, pulling her into his arms — whilst Donna had a mental flash of headlines: Demented-haired Woman Attacks Policeman in St Peter’s Park Car Park.
Oh, Lord! Agnes?!
Donna gawped as a most definitely demented Agnes broke into her ball-pinching sprint and was up the path in a flash.
‘You’ll have a spot of trouble managing without a certain part of your anatomy, you… sex-fiend!’ she growled, twirling her eco-bag like a pro in the hammer throw and hitting Mark, squarely in the abdomen.
Thank God. Donna closed her eyes, relieved. If the bag had hit home, she’d a sneaking suspicion it would have hurt an awful lot more. As it was, Mark was winded, as white as a sheet, and heading protectively for Jody, to hustle her into the passenger seat of his car.
Well, he would. Quite apart from the fact that Mark seemed to protect people instinctively, the girl was with child.
His child.
Donna’s heart sank without trace.
****
‘Cheers, Roger,’ Mark addressed the manager of The Helliots Nursing Home, on his mobile. ‘About ten minutes ago,’ he confirmed his run in with the bag-wielding old woman. ‘She’ll probably head back through the park, but just in case. Okay. Catch you around.’
‘Are you going to be all right?’ Jody asked.
‘Yeah, eventually.’ Mark smiled, amused, despite bruises to body and pride.
‘Will she, do you think?’
‘Who, Agnes? Yes, fine. She wanders around the park most days. Sometimes wanders a bit too far and we give her lift back. She’s harmless enough, generally. Can’t think why she’d want to attack me.’
‘Probably didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.’ Jody smirked.
‘Ho, ho.’ Mark smiled and climbed out of the driver’s side.
‘Such a gent,’ Jody said as he walked around to hold the passenger door for her. ‘You’d never think he was a sex-fiend, would you, Starbuck?’ She turned to give Starbuck a pat, then patted Mark’s cheek as she climbed out.
Mark smiled good-naturedly. ‘Only at weekends, though Jody.’
‘What, every weekend?’ Jody widened her eyes. ‘No wonder you’re exhausted.’
Chance would be a fine thing. Mark sighed, as Jody peered back inside. ‘Bye, Karl. See you tomorrow.’
‘Say goodbye to Jody, Karl,’ Mark prompted him, when Karl didn’t answer.
‘Goodbye to Jody.’ Karl obliged.
Mark and Jody exchanged amused glances as they walked back to the pavement, then amazed glances as Karl said behind them, ‘You’ll have a hard time managing without a certain part of your anatomy.’
Mark squeezed his eyes shut, then prised one open as Jody burst out laughing.
Mark shook his head, then laughed with her. Why the hell not? His pride might be dented, but with the progress Karl had made today, his heart was soaring.
‘Let me know whether you need me to pick him up tomorrow,’ Jody called, as she headed for her house.
‘I will,’ Mark assured her, watching her walk off. She looked good, healthy, happy. Pregnancy obviously suited her, though Mark couldn’t help wishing she wasn’t. He hated the thought of Karl stressed out all over again by the changes in routine a new carer might bring.
That thought in mind, he climbed back in the car, hoping that tomorrow’s change in routine would end as positively as today’s. Karl was used to the respite home, but Starbuck with him at the home was something new.
Mark had a good feeling about it though. It really did seem that Karl might interact more readily with Starbuck leading the way. He already had, to a degree. Only with the dog, but… Bloody hell! Mark tightened his grip on the wheel as something struck him.
Karl had reacted with him.
Okay, they hadn’t had an actual conversation, but Karl had listened to him. Appeared to take in what he’d said.
Hadn’t he?
Mark pointed the car towards his dad’s to check up on him, and test out his theory while he was there. He was sure he was right. And if he was… Mark felt almost euphoric. Life might have been rubbish on the relationship front… his euphoria dwindled a bit… but today had been a good day.
‘We’re off to see Granddad now, Karl.’ Mark made sure to prepare Karl ahead, as always. ‘And then, how about we all have an early night, with Starbuck?’
They might, too, thanks to a certain furry friend.
‘All right, Starbuck?’ Mark winked through the mirror at the dog panting placidly on the back seat.
‘Yes,’ said Karl.
Mark’s mouth curved into a smile. Bloody good.
****
‘Dad?’ Mark called over the booming music, once inside the front door. What the hell was going on? He glanced at Karl behind him, hoping the noise wasn’t going to destabilise him.
‘What do you think, Starbuck? Shall we go through?’ he asked warily.
‘Yes,’ said Karl.
‘Right.’ Mark glanced at Karl again. Was he answering for the dog? Jesus. He shook his head, incredulous, then winced as his dad’s affronted tones reached his ears. ‘You’re on my foot, woman!’ Robert bellowed above the din in the lounge. ‘Are you trying to cripple me?!’
What in God’s name? ‘Sit and stay, Starbuck,’ Mark commanded. Then, making sure dog and boy stayed put, he inched the lounge door open, stared in amazement, and closed it again.
Christ. He was hallucinating. Had to be. Either that, or… Mark opened the door again and coughed loudly, to no avail. His dad, Evelyn and Dot were lined up in front of the TV, oblivious to his presence and apparently practising the foot moves to Dot’s Strictly Dancing DVD.
‘It’s supposed to be the quickstep, Robert, not the jive,’ Dot shouted, kicking a legging-clad leg in the air.
‘Nonsense.’ Robert puffed. ‘They didn’t call me Elvis for nothing, you know. Rocked around the clock with the best of them, I did, in my…’ Robert stopped, obviously having missed a step.
‘Pause and rewind,’ he called.
Evelyn and Dot danced on.
‘Hit the pause button, woman!’ Robert bawled. ‘I’m off my stride.’
Evelyn stopped and headed to the sofa, looking slightly more stylish than Dot in trackie bottoms and tee, but eye-boggling nevertheless. ‘I wish we could hit your pause button,’ she muttered, then noticing Mark said moodily, ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Nice to see you, too, Evelyn.’ Mark looked on, bemused, as the salsa music died.
‘Sorry.’ Evelyn looked apologetic. ‘Your father’s being a bit of a handful, I’m afraid. Do come in.’
Mark glanced behind him, wondering whether it might be wiser to make a sharp exit. ‘Very kind of you,’ he said instead, and turned back to Starbuck and Karl.
‘Come, Starbuck,’ he commanded. The dog obeyed, bringing Karl along with him. ‘Sit and stay. Good boy.’
‘My son, Karl,’ Mark introduced him. ‘I think you’ve met.’
‘Not met, no. I’ve seen you come and go with him, obviously. I, um… Hello,
Karl.’ It was Evelyn’s turn to stare now. Karl was bordering on hyperkinetic, rocking to and fro, visibly communicating his stress, until Starbuck intervened, thank God.
Mark drew in a relieved breath as Evelyn glanced from Karl to the dog, then to Mark, from which Mark gathered she hadn’t realised Karl was autistic.
‘But he’s…’ Evelyn trailed off.
‘Easily spooked,’ Mark finished. ‘Say, hello, Karl.’
‘Hello,’ Karl said, staring at Evelyn as he did, which Mark knew some people found unnerving.
‘I had no idea,’ Evelyn looked again from Karl to Mark. ‘Dot said he was a special needs child, but…’ She trailed off again, then seemed to pull herself together, shoulders up. Like daughter like mother, Mark couldn’t help noticing.
‘Nice to meet you, Karl,’ she said, taking a step towards him, then reaching tentatively out to stroke Starbuck. ‘Is this your dog?’
‘This is Starbuck. He’s Karl’s friend,’ Karl said, repeating how Sally had introduced Starbuck to Karl, Mark knew, but getting a thrill from it still. It was dialogue, of sorts. It was progress.
‘Is he now?’ Evelyn smiled. ‘He’s a very fine friend.’
‘He has fur,’ Karl said, and reached to stroke Evelyn’s hair, to Mark’s utter astonishment.
‘Bloody hell!’ He gasped, disbelieving. Where had that come from? Sally? Jody?
Evelyn glanced curiously at him.
‘Sorry.’ Mark shook himself out of his stupor. ‘He doesn’t normally, er… communicate, quite so, er…’
‘I’ll put kettle on,’ his dad said gruffly, placing a steadying hand on Mark’s shoulder.
Mark smiled, grateful for the timely interruption. He crouched down, stroked Starbuck, hesitated, then ruffled Karl’s hair. Karl didn’t react, but that was okay. Mark felt blessed enough for one day.
‘Come on, Karl,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Let’s get Starbuck a drink and then take him into the garden… to play.’ He glanced meaningfully at Evelyn.
Evelyn nodded, offered him a conciliatory smile, then shook her head as Dot piped up. ‘I’ll come and lend a hand, Robert.’
‘No. No need. I’m sure I can find the teapot on my own,’ his dad’s slightly panicky reply came back.
‘He’ll be back in his bunker if she bustles in.’ Evelyn rolled her eyes.
Mark laughed, and bent to unhook the tether from Karl. ‘Join us, if you like,’ he offered.
‘No, I won’t, thank you. I’d quite like some fresh air, but I need to soak my feet more. Don’t we, Dot?’
‘Do we?’ Dot wandered over.
‘Yes, they’re killing us,’ Evelyn assured her. ‘And I think Mark and Karl might need a little less distraction.’ She arched a questioning eyebrow at Mark.
‘Yes, thanks.’ Mark nodded his appreciation. She wasn’t so bad, he decided, despite her propensity to hit first and ask questions later.
Chapter Fourteen
Donna cursed her stupidity. She shouldn’t have been so impetuous, so full of herself she thought she could do what the professionals couldn’t. She wasn’t qualified.
She wasn’t anything.
Just a volunteer, who’d been here two minutes and taken into her naïve head that she was special enough to make a difference. She forced back hot tears of frustration and looked uselessly on, as the little boy kicked and screamed, a key worker on her knees behind him, desperately trying to hold onto him.
What had she been thinking? Trying to get the little boy to wear his shoes, as if it were as easy as helping him on with them?
‘Make way for the cavalry,’ Peter Lewis said behind her. ‘Whoops, sorry, Donna, excuse us,’ he said, smiling as he walked past with the boy’s dog, who Dr Lewis had taken out for walkies, which was when the little boy had decided to follow, and Donna had foolishly decided he shouldn’t with only his socks on.
‘Come on, Starbuck,’ Dr Lewis said jovially. ‘Show us what you’re made of, old stick.’
Dr Lewis let the dog off its leash, and Donna watched worriedly, then incredulously, as the dog walked across to the little boy, sat down beside him and placed a paw lightly on the boy’s legs.
In a flash, the little boy stopped thrashing, the key worker relaxed her grip, the boy sat up, stood up, and walked across to his dog. ‘Good Starbuck,’ he said, calmly patting the dog’s head.
‘That’s right,’ Dr Lewis said, producing a dog biscuit from his pocket and taking it to the dog.
He crouched down to the boy’s level. ‘And good Karl, too,’ he said, producing a biscuit for human consumption from his other pocket, ‘for listening to Starbuck.’
‘Starbuck wants to play,’ the boy said unblinkingly, taking the biscuit with one hand, the dog’s collar with the other, and walking off to play with the alphabet blocks.
‘Sit and stay, Starbuck,’ he said, plonking himself down next to the dog, so obviously unperturbed by events, a tear escaped Donna’s eye.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Dr Lewis said, coming over to her. ‘We all get things wrong here, as often as we get them right, until we learn what the children’s particular concerns or phobias are, and even then… take Thomas over there,’ Dr Lewis pointed to another little boy, who was painting away at the desk, and extremely accomplished Donna thought. ‘He loves his painting. Give him a paintbrush, he’s as happy as Larry. Try to put an apron on him, and we’re talking major meltdown. Doesn’t like the feel of the cloth on the back of his neck.’
Dr Lewis indicated the back of his own neck, shrugged and gave Donna a good-humoured smile. ‘Karl’s shoes need more scuffing,’ he confided, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking with her to the outside play area.
‘The world can seem a very unpredictable and confusing place to children with autism, Donna,’ Dr Lewis explained, as they watched children with varying degrees of autism playing, some together, some in isolation, a key worker gently trying to encourage social interaction.
‘That’s why routine is so important to them,’ he went on. ‘They prefer to have a fixed daily agenda so they know what’s going to happen next. Change can be very uncomfortable, and anything unfamiliar represents change. Karl will be less troubled by his new shoes when they’re muddied up a bit.’
Donna nodded, understanding. ‘Made to look old, as in familiar, you mean.’
‘Precisely. But even then, Karl might not be convinced. There’s a lot to learn, Donna, but I can see you’re keen.’ Dr Lewis nodded appreciatively.
‘Yes, I am,’ Donna assured him, hoping… knowing that she could rise to the challenge and maybe, in time, really make a difference, however small.
‘Excellent. I’ll dig out some study material for you.’ Dr Lewis led the way back inside.
‘People with autism often find it difficult to engage in social imaginative play,’ he chatted on, this time pointing to Karl, who was busy in his own little world with the alphabet blocks. ‘Often they prefer to act out the same scene over and over, which brings us back to routine, repetitive behaviours, obsessions, special interests. Here at Blossom Tree, we try to challenge the autism, Donna. Use those obsessions and interests as tools, if you like, with which to help the child develop.
‘Do any of the children ever go on to live independently?’ Donna asked, somewhat in awe of the man’s dedication and obvious enthusiasm.
‘Good question,’ Dr Lewis nodded thoughtfully. ‘And the answer is yes. Depending on the degree of learning disability, some will be able to live fairly independently, although they may need a degree of support to achieve independence. Others require lifelong, specialist support. The overriding factor though, is that people with autism can, and do, learn and develop with the right kind of support. That’s where we come in. We could certainly use someone with a bit of artistic skill.’
‘I’m your gal,’ Donna assured him, and set about proving it by helping the more able children finger-paint for the next hour.
Jean hadn’t been that pleased
she’d taken the afternoon’s annual leave with Simon away, but Donna had already booked it, she’d pointed out, and left Jean to develop her typing skills.
When she wandered over, Karl had moved from the alphabet blocks to the wooden bricks, which he was stacking up in neat columns. ‘Hello, Karl,’ she said, kneeling down beside him.
Karl didn’t answer, but Donna was learning. He wasn’t recalling she was the scary woman who’d tried to force his familiar feet into his unfamiliar shoes. He just wasn’t relating.
She reached to stroke the black Labrador, thinking about Mark as she did so, her heart flopping loose in her chest. How he’d been walking a similar assistance dog with silken-haired Sally. How ironic would that be? If silken-Sally turned out to be the trainer of this dog, too?
‘I like your dog, Karl,’ Donna ventured. ‘Does he have a name?’
‘This is Starbuck,’ Karl said, his brow knitted as he concentrated his attention on his bricks. ‘He’s Karl’s friend.’
‘Dogs make good friends.’ Donna smiled. ‘I bet he thinks Karl’s a good friend, too.’
‘Yes,’ Karl said, his gaze still unwavering on his endeavours.
‘I have a dog-friend,’ Donna confided. ‘Her name is Sadie. She’s my best friend.’
Karl turned his gaze away from his bricks and reached out to stroke Starbuck. ‘Best friend,’ he said.
‘That’s a breakthrough, Donna. Well done.’ Dr Lewis smiled, sweeping by.
****
‘Donna, are you in?’ Evelyn’s tones reached her ears before Donna was through her front door.
‘Whoops, sorry, babe.’ Donna plucked up the phone, almost falling over Sadie in the process.
‘Yes, Mum, I’m in,’ she said, shrugging out of her coat and making a kissy face at her ‘best friend.’
‘I’ve been talking to Mark,’ Evelyn said, without further ado.
‘Oh.’
‘Oh, dear, do I sense a not-open-for-discussion note in that oh?’
‘I don’t want to talk about him, Mum. There’s nothing to talk about. He’s been fine in his professional capacity, but otherwise…’
Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. Page 17