Dishonour (41 page)

‘Bronwin, I’ve told you this before. Your sister is dead and because you told lies the people who really
were
responsible for her murder are free to go and hurt somebody else.’

Two blinks was all it took for Bronwin to begin to scream. Her wail was fearful and high-pitched; an adult’s cry within a child’s body. The scream resonated through her and began to take possession of her body as she began to shake, convulsing into a fit.

The nurse who was already next to Bronwin quickly and expertly administered the powerful drug. Almost immediately, Bronwin’s eyes began to roll back. Her shoulders began to slump and her mouth gently opened to one side as she lay on the bed in the tiny white-washed room.

After a couple of minutes, Bronwin’s eyes slowly regained focus, she sat staring ahead at nothing but the blank wall. Today was her seventh birthday.

In the next room, Bronwin’s mother sat nervously pulling down the grey nylon skirt she’d bought from Roman Road market the day before. She’d wanted to look presentable and it was only now she was deciding it might be too short. Perhaps she should’ve got the other one, the longer one, but it’d been a fiver more and she’d needed the fiver for the electricity key. Taking off her jacket, she placed it over her knees.

She was nervous. Her hands were sweating and she could feel a prickly heat rash beginning to develop on her chest. She knew what these people were like. Knew how they judged. Christ, she’d been dealing with them since she was a kid herself and now they had their hands on her daughter.

Week after week she’d called up to see Bronwin but they’d told her she couldn’t. Not even a phone call. She’d even turned up a few times hoping someone would show a bit of compassion, but she’d been turned away, not even being allowed to set foot in the children’s facility. Today was the first time she was able to see the doctor in charge, and as her Nan used to say,
she was shitting bricks.

Gazing around the room made her feel even more nervous. There were paintings of men in gilded frames on the wall looking superior and almost mocking in their pride. It surprised her to see the doctor’s office void of any medical books but instead filled with trinkets and thank you cards. Biting her thumb nail down to the quick and then having to suck it to stop it from bleeding, she jumped as the glass door opened.

‘Hello, I’m Dr Berry. Thank you for coming.’

Not taking the outstretched hand, Bronwin’s mum thought the doctor looked like he should’ve retired years ago. His white hair and stooped shoulders made her feel as if she was paying a visit to her granddad rather than a child shrink.

She spoke. Her hostility, caused by her nervousness, cut through her words. ‘I’ve been trying to come for a while now but then you’d already know that don’t you? What I want to know is when can I take Bronwin home?’

‘Well there might be a problem.’

‘I don’t want to hear about bleedin’ problems mate. I just want to take her home where she belongs. She’s my daughter, not yours.’

Dr Berry went round to the other side of his desk. He pulled out his chair slowly, staring moodily over his rimless glasses. ‘How do you feel about your daughter’s death?’

‘I ain’t here to talk about me other daughter. In fact, I ain’t here to answer any questions at all. Just give me Bronwin so we can get out of here.’

As was his habit and his arrogance, the doctor ignored the interjection and continued to talk. ‘Do you feel responsible for your daughter’s death?’

Filled with painful, angry tears, Bronwin’s mother stared ahead. She was pleased to hear her voice was steady as she made a concerted effort to stay calm. Her words punctuated the air. ‘I am not responsible for her death. It wasn’t me who killed her. It was them animals, whoever they are.’

‘But you were the one who let your daughters out. Surely you must hold some sort of guilt.’

Bronwin’s mother blinked away the tears as she felt them burning. She bent forward, holding her stomach, and whispered almost inaudibly as her gaze found the window. ‘Of course I do. Of course I do.’

‘Then let us help you. You do want some help don’t you?’

Bronwin’s mum nodded, trance-like.

‘You know Bronwin is still very confused about what happened and who
was
there. She’s a very troubled little girl. She insists on telling these lies.’

‘Bronwin ain’t a liar. That’s one thing she’s never done is lie. If she’s telling you something then it must be true.’

‘That’s as maybe, but she’s a child and all children lie.’

‘She don’t.’

Dr Berry sighed. ‘Do you want us to help her and at the same time help you?’

‘Of course. Anything.’

‘I’ve spoken to the social workers and they’re in agreement with me it’s probably best Bronwin stayed here with us.’

Bronwin’s mother stood up. She wiped away the tears, feeling angry resentment. ‘Oh no you don’t. You ain’t going to mess my little girl up.’

‘We won’t be doing that, what we’ll be doing is untangling the mess which has already been put there in her short life.’

‘That ain’t going to happen. You ain’t going to take my daughter.’

‘Of course not. That’s why I’m asking you to sign these papers.’

‘I’m not signing nothing. I want my daughter and I want her
now.
’

‘I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible. We’ve had an extension of the interim care which means you can’t take her.’

The shock and hurt on Bronwin’s mum’s face was so deep it almost penetrated Dr Berry’s supercilious gaze. He turned away quickly. Standing up and walking across to the window as Bronwin’s mother began to shout.

‘You bastards. You fucking bastards.’

‘We’re not doing this to upset you, we’re doing this for Bronwin’s benefit and of course yours. You’ll be able to get on with your life knowing Bronwin is getting the help she needs. She’ll thank you in the end. I just know she will. You can give her what you didn’t have yourself. You can give her a chance. A start in life.’

‘But I’m her mother. She should be with me.’

‘Yes, but only if it’s right for her and at the moment it isn’t right.’

Bronwin’s mother headed for the door, catching Dr Berry raising his eyebrows at her skirt. She pulled it down quickly.

‘Well I’m sorry, but no way. I would never hand my child over to the likes of you. I might not be what you think a good mother should be and I’m not saying I haven’t got my faults, but I love Bronwin. I loved both my kids.’

‘Fight us and you’ll lose and then you’ll never see Bronwin again. Do it this way and you’ll be able to see her. It’s your choice. I know which way I’d choose.’

‘You … you can’t do that.’

‘We can and we will. Do you really think the courts will agree to you keeping her after both myself and the social workers give evidence of you being unstable and incapable of giving Bronwin what’s needed?’

‘I love her. Ain’t that enough?’

‘In an ideal world it is but then we’re not in an ideal world are we? Can you excuse me one moment?’

Not waiting for any sort of reply, Dr Berry picked up the phone on his desk. He spoke quietly into it. ‘Would you mind coming in now?’

A moment later the glass door opened. The man who walked in didn’t bother to introduce himself. He stood with a frozen frown on his face as Bronwin’s mum stared at him. ‘Who’s he?’

Once more, Dr Berry chose to ignore a question he saw as irrelevant. He walked over to Bronwin’s mum, picking up the papers as he passed his desk, then reached out with the pen which was always kept in his breast coat pocket.

‘Sign them. It’s for the best. If you say you love her which I believe you do, you’ll listen to me. No one’s the enemy here; don’t make us into them.’

Bronwin’s mother took in the doctor’s face. Deep, entrenched lines circled his eyes and cold, small green eyes stared back at her. ‘You’ll let me see Bronwin?’

Dr Berry pushed the pen and papers forward. ‘She’ll be in good hands. There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.’

Taking the papers, Bronwin’s mother grabbed at the pen and hurriedly scrawled her name on the papers. Dr Berry passed the papers to the other man, talking as he did so. ‘We need another signature you see, so that’s why this gentleman’s here. You’ll get a copy of this for yourself.’

The other man took out his own pen. Bronwin’s mother watched, loathing etched on her face as her eyes traced the flamboyantly written signature.

Dr Berry smiled, his tone over-jovial for the sentiment of the occasion and his clichéd remark inappropriate.

‘Right then, that’s all done and dusted.’

‘Now take me to see my daughter.’

‘You’ve done the right thing.’

‘So why doesn’t it feel like it?’

Staring through the glass pane of the door, Bronwin’s mother wiped away her tears before opening it. Quietly, she walked into the room, feeling the air of hush as she entered. She stared at her daughter. So tiny. So elf-like. So beautiful.

‘Bron. Bron, it’s me.’

Bronwin’s eyes stayed closed.

Dr Berry crept up silently behind. ‘It’s all right; she’s had some medicine to calm her down. She’s just in a heavy sleep.’

‘Can I wake her up?’

‘It’s best to leave her. She needs all the rest she can get.’

Leaning forward, Bronwin’s mother swept her daughter’s mass of blonde hair away from her forehead. She kissed her head before speaking to her sleeping child. ‘Bron, mummy’s got to go now. But always remember I love you and I’ll see you soon. And Bron? I’m sorry.’

Turning to the doctor, Bronwin’s mum stood up and went into the pocket of her torn jacket. ‘Can you give her this? It’s her birthday card.’

‘Yes of course. The nurse will see you out. The social workers will be in touch in the morning to sort the other details out.’

Once Bronwin’s mother had left, Dr Berry took a quick glance at the card before throwing it into the bin in the corner. In deep thought, he stood observing Bronwin as she began to stir.

The door opened, jarring him from his thoughts. He smiled at the entering visitor and reached out his hand with a welcoming greeting. ‘Thanks for signing those papers by the way. I thought for a moment the mother was going to be difficult. I’ll just wake her up.’

Walking across to Bronwin, Dr Berry gently nudged her. He spoke quietly. ‘Bronwin? Bronwin? Hey birthday girl, you’ve got a visitor. Someone’s here to see you.’

Bronwin slowly opened her eyes before rubbing them gently. She sat up then screamed. It was the man from the woods with the black shiny shoes.

‘She’s all yours.’ Dr Berry smiled, tapping the man on his back as he left the room, leaving him sitting on Bronwin’s bed as he began to unbutton his shirt.

The bed was hard and the chair was too. Sparse and unwelcoming. And Bronwin didn’t know why she couldn’t go home instead of having to stay in a house where she didn’t know anybody and didn’t want to be. It was the same recurring thought she had each time they sent her somewhere new.

The only place she’d ever wanted to be was with her mum. But they’d never let her. Telling her it was for the best. Only allowing her to speak to her at birthdays and Christmas.

The people who’d met her and her social worker at the door had smiled and had seemed pleasant enough, but she knew; knew they didn’t like her. Didn’t really want her there, but that was fine with her because she didn’t want to be there either.

She’d been in more care and foster homes than she could possibly remember and over time she’d developed a sixth sense. Knowing when people
really
wanted her or when all they
really
wanted was the few hundred quid caring allowance they got for taking in the likes of her.

People wanted cute. Sweet. And once upon a time she’d been just that. The cute child with the button nose and the chocolate box freckles. Blue eyes staring out from under a mass of blonde hair. The tiny frightened child. But then the tiny frightened child had grown up, yet Bronwin knew she’d lost her childhood a long time before that ever happened.

How long had it been now? Eight years, nine even. Nine years of going from one home to another. Settling in, only to have to move again a few weeks, a few days, even a few hours later because someone hadn’t filled in the forms, courts hadn’t signed the appropriate documents or her file had got lost. But mainly, Bronwin knew she was unwanted because she was no longer a child. No longer someone’s toy, someone’s plaything to do what they liked with. She was sixteen now and had a mind and an opinion of her own. But most of all she had a voice. A voice that had begun to say, ‘
No
.’

She no longer wanted to be or feel like the unwanted teenager. A problem child. Hard to place. Hard to love. She didn’t want to become bitter; hardened to life before she’d reached eighteen. But she could feel it. Feel herself slowly being cemented into the drudgery and pitiful existence of her life.

But she was determined to change it. To take control. And as Bronwin stared out of the window at the rainy night she made a decision. The time was right. She was old enough not to have to listen to a bunch of jumped up social workers telling her what to do. All they really did anyway was find a roof over her head; the rest of it was left to her.

Bronwin stuffed her things back in her bag, pausing at the sight of the bedraggled Mr Hinkles, her teddy bear she’d kept for all these years. She held it tight. Closing her eyes for a moment before opening them wide. Quickly she pushed the bear down to the bottom of her bag, not wanting to deal with the memories it brought up. Of her sister. Of her mother. Of the day in the woods.

Bronwin opened the window. She felt the chill of the evening air and the spray of the rain on her face blown in by the wind. Making sure no one could hear her, Bronwin shuffled on to the ledge. It wasn’t so far down. Seven feet perhaps, maybe eight. Eight feet to freedom.

After a count of three in her head and then another one of five, Bronwin jumped, hitting the ground harder than she thought she would. She rolled on the grass and felt a sharp pain in her ankle; shooting pains up the outside of her leg. But she didn’t care. All that mattered to her was that she was out. Out of the care system which had never cared for her, and out of the system which had taken away the one person she’d cared about and who, in her own way, had cared about her.