Eddie can see someone now.’
He meant a therapist, though in my experience with damaged children, that isn’t always a bright side. ‘Anyone in particular?’
He looked embarrassed. ‘I thought it might be Eleanor Holdenbach? Sometime next month?’
Eleanor Holdenbach. It could have been a whole lot worse. And I was just relieved it wasn’t Otto Weeks. Otto’s so young he still has hobby horses. Most of the rest haveworked for the council long enough to realize the job is just to tidy up what chunks of the child are left and brush as many of the splinters as they can out of sight, out of mind. Otto’s so full of beans he still believes that you can focus on exactly what went wrong, and make the poor little buggers whole again.
So, ‘Eleanor,’ I said. ‘Next month.’
Lewis Tanner, Investigations Department Technician
We ran the tapes Martin brought in. God, that was a laugh. There we were, all of the other screens slopping over with what my grandmother calls ‘the bits no one should see in places they shouldn’t go’. And there, in the corner, on the old video player, this middle-aged goody-goody in a cardigan is asking some other codger how to make ice cream.
We sat and roared. I gave Martin a call, but he insisted that we did a thorough job and played every tape through. And he is right that all too often underneath this stuff, you catch a glimpse of something that sickens you so much you want to pack in the whole caboodle – move to some other section where you don’t feel, when you go home at night, that you’d prefer a single bed.
Don’t tell my wife I said that!
Anyhow, we followed orders. Jawohl, mein Kommandant! For six days in a row, we slid in these old tapes. There were five programmes on each. We got to know the songs. The two of us began to sing each time the show began.
‘Happy days, and happy ways
I hope you know how glad I am
To see you here with me today
We’re going to have great fun.’
We even sang it in the canteen once. (Fat Terry said he thought it sounded rather familiar, but he’s a hundred years old.) Then we went back to shove in the next tape. This was the visit to the fire station. (The officer was tactful. He didn’t mention that they call dead bodies ‘crispies’.) Then came how plasticine is made. How people engrave on glass. We learned it all. It was a very educational week.
And, as Gurdeep said, not one wet knob or fanny from start to finish. That made a pleasant change.
Eddie
I thought that Rob had already asked me every question on earth. And Sue had often come along as well, sometimes in uniform, and sometimes not. They’d kept it up between them, tiptoeing around Linda and Alan (‘We’llbe all right in here, will we? Out from under your feet?’). They’d tried to keep it light, cheering me up along the way with biscuits, and offers to take me along to the playground. (‘All of us need a breath of fresh air. Fancy a kick about?’)
But they’d kept at it. ‘Eddie, what did you do all day? How did you pass the time?’ ‘Did you ever have the little bed? Or did you always sleep along with Gem on that blanket?’ I told them that the little bed was mine until one day he’d tipped me out of it, saying he needed the room to store a few boxes he’d brought home, and Rob said, more into Sue’s tiny silver recording machine than to me, ‘To clarify, Eddie, can you tell us who you mean by “he”?’
I couldn’t work out what he was talking about, so I’d kept quiet. I mean, he knew that I meant Harris. Why was he asking?
And I remember Rob had tried again. ‘What did you call him, when you spoke to him?’
I probably looked blank. I’d never called him anything.
Sue tried. ‘What did your mum call him?’
She hadn’t, much. But still I said it, just to keep them off me. ‘Bryce.’
‘So did you call him Bryce as well?’
They waited. Maybe they were thinking that I was trying to remember.
‘Well, did you call him Dad?’
He meant a therapist, though in my experience with damaged children, that isn’t always a bright side. ‘Anyone in particular?’
He looked embarrassed. ‘I thought it might be Eleanor Holdenbach? Sometime next month?’
Eleanor Holdenbach. It could have been a whole lot worse. And I was just relieved it wasn’t Otto Weeks. Otto’s so young he still has hobby horses. Most of the rest haveworked for the council long enough to realize the job is just to tidy up what chunks of the child are left and brush as many of the splinters as they can out of sight, out of mind. Otto’s so full of beans he still believes that you can focus on exactly what went wrong, and make the poor little buggers whole again.
So, ‘Eleanor,’ I said. ‘Next month.’
Lewis Tanner, Investigations Department Technician
We ran the tapes Martin brought in. God, that was a laugh. There we were, all of the other screens slopping over with what my grandmother calls ‘the bits no one should see in places they shouldn’t go’. And there, in the corner, on the old video player, this middle-aged goody-goody in a cardigan is asking some other codger how to make ice cream.
We sat and roared. I gave Martin a call, but he insisted that we did a thorough job and played every tape through. And he is right that all too often underneath this stuff, you catch a glimpse of something that sickens you so much you want to pack in the whole caboodle – move to some other section where you don’t feel, when you go home at night, that you’d prefer a single bed.
Don’t tell my wife I said that!
Anyhow, we followed orders. Jawohl, mein Kommandant! For six days in a row, we slid in these old tapes. There were five programmes on each. We got to know the songs. The two of us began to sing each time the show began.
‘Happy days, and happy ways
I hope you know how glad I am
To see you here with me today
We’re going to have great fun.’
We even sang it in the canteen once. (Fat Terry said he thought it sounded rather familiar, but he’s a hundred years old.) Then we went back to shove in the next tape. This was the visit to the fire station. (The officer was tactful. He didn’t mention that they call dead bodies ‘crispies’.) Then came how plasticine is made. How people engrave on glass. We learned it all. It was a very educational week.
And, as Gurdeep said, not one wet knob or fanny from start to finish. That made a pleasant change.
Eddie
I thought that Rob had already asked me every question on earth. And Sue had often come along as well, sometimes in uniform, and sometimes not. They’d kept it up between them, tiptoeing around Linda and Alan (‘We’llbe all right in here, will we? Out from under your feet?’). They’d tried to keep it light, cheering me up along the way with biscuits, and offers to take me along to the playground. (‘All of us need a breath of fresh air. Fancy a kick about?’)
But they’d kept at it. ‘Eddie, what did you do all day? How did you pass the time?’ ‘Did you ever have the little bed? Or did you always sleep along with Gem on that blanket?’ I told them that the little bed was mine until one day he’d tipped me out of it, saying he needed the room to store a few boxes he’d brought home, and Rob said, more into Sue’s tiny silver recording machine than to me, ‘To clarify, Eddie, can you tell us who you mean by “he”?’
I couldn’t work out what he was talking about, so I’d kept quiet. I mean, he knew that I meant Harris. Why was he asking?
And I remember Rob had tried again. ‘What did you call him, when you spoke to him?’
I probably looked blank. I’d never called him anything.
Sue tried. ‘What did your mum call him?’
She hadn’t, much. But still I said it, just to keep them off me. ‘Bryce.’
‘So did you call him Bryce as well?’
They waited. Maybe they were thinking that I was trying to remember.
‘Well, did you call him Dad?’
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