Mother Be The Judge (3 page)

'One good mother is worth a hundred schoolmasters.'

Ralph Waldo Emerson

15 December 1996

Jocasta waited in the reception area of Elisworth Town Primary School. She had received a telephone call from the school secretary that morning asking her to come and visit the Head Master of the school, Mr Cross. The secretary would not divulge to Jocasta the reason for the visit, just stating that it was serious and could not wait until another day.

Jocasta had waited for the bus, her imagination running away with her as to what the reason could be for being called so promptly into school. Had Adrian been beaten up? Had he finally managed to achieve a grade in reading and she was being called in to be congratulated? She had smirked at the thought of that; even if Adrian
had
managed to conform to their standards of reading, she doubted very much that they would bother to congratulate her for it.

The school hadn't changed in the thirty years since she had attended there; the walls were still a dirty cream colour and there was still a bare green covering on the floor, too thin to be considered a carpet, but new enough that it wasn't the same one she had walked on as a child. There was a familiar smell to the school which had a calming effect on Jocasta, she had been mercilessly bullied in the playground when she had attended and she had sought sanctuary often in the reception area; protected by the school administrators who were sympathetic to her plight. Many days had been spent by Jocasta counting the stains on the carpet and drawing imaginary lines between each one, creating pictures with her mind to pass the boredom in the self-imposed prison each afternoon.

The door creaked open in front of her and a male walked out with purpose, presenting himself in front of Jocasta.

"Thank you for coming in Mrs Brown."

"It's Miss Brown."

The raised eyebrow was not lost on Jocasta; it was a standard response to her being a single parent. She never hid the fact, she was proud to be the sole owner of her little boy.

"I'm Mr Cross, headmaster of the school, please follow me." Mr Cross turned and walked back through the creaking door without looking back, obviously confident that Jocasta would follow him as instructed, she didn't know why he insisted on introducing himself to her every time they met; they had already had a few parent, teacher consultations since Adrian had started school. Jocasta followed Mr Cross down a long narrow hallway which was impossibly hot as every radiator seemed to be on full blast regardless of whether warmth had already been achieved. Jocasta glimpsed through windowed doors which were lined periodically along the corridor. She saw row upon row of children sitting at their desks, some with hands in the air obviously desperate to be the one to give the right answer. At one stage she thought she saw Adrian standing sullenly near a window, staring at the class before him; she didn't have a chance to confirm what she had seen as Mr Cross continued to stride along the corridor and she knew if she didn't keep up she could quite possibly get lost or reprimanded for her tardiness.

Finally at the end of the hallway, Mr Cross directed Jocasta into an office, it was a rectangle room covered in the felt boards which were familiar to schools, dotted with the hand drawings of pupils and with pictures of smiling school children holding aloft plaques and trophies which had been won. Jocasta sat in the chair indicated to her by Mr Cross.

"Yes sorry,
Miss
Brown, thank you for coming in to see me today, I'm afraid we need to speak about your son's behaviour." Mr Cross sat behind his standard council issue desk. He looked decidedly like his name at this point and Jocasta experienced a flutter deep in the pit of her stomach. What could a six year old boy have done to evoke such apparent anger in the head master of his school?

"Has he been disrupting the class again?" enquired Jocasta, "He has never really settled properly in school, I think he finds it difficult being away from home."

"We have discussed his settling in before Miss Brown; I am still of the opinion that Adrian is suffering from attention deficit disorder..."

"That's just jargon..." Jocasta began her usual defence when faced with Adrian's problems.

"Mrs Brown." Mr Cross's sharp interruption took Jocasta by surprise. He was usually quite ready to listen to her side of the matter. "Mrs Brown, I haven't asked you here because of that although that is still a concern for me."

"Well why
am
I here then?"

"You are here because Adrian has assaulted one of his classmates."

"He's been in a fight? I'm sure he didn't start it, he..."

Mr Cross put his hand up stopping Jocasta once again from stating her case. "Not a fight Mrs Brown, please allow me to finish."

"Go on then." She didn't know what was coming but Jocasta could feel her hackles rising waiting for another ridiculous accusation levied at her son.

"Adrian took a female classmate into the boy's toilets today against her will and put his hands in her underwear."

"I'm sorry Mr Cross, he did what?" She wondered if he had actually just said, 'put his hands in her underwear' or if she had just imagined it."

"I know it must be difficult to hear but you heard right; Adrian has sexually assaulted a young girl in his class, she is very distressed and her parents..."

"Whoa, hold on there,
sexually assaulted
? He's six years old, an innocent child. How can you class anything he does as criminal? He doesn't know what he's doing, he's a baby." Jocasta's voice was rising as panic overtook her.

"Mrs Brown, please calm down." The head master came around to Jocasta's side of the desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It was the wrong choice of words, I'm sorry." He reassured her. "Of course we understand that Adrian is a very young boy, still learning right from wrong, but in light of Adrian's..." He paused, searching for the right word, "Problems, and what appears to be an escalation of his behaviour, we feel it necessary for you to have him assessed properly so we can move forwards and help him with his condition." Mr Cross stopped and a benevolent smile wiped its way across his face. "Now Mrs Brown, the girl's parents have been informed but I am pleased to tell you they agree it was probably just innocent play and are happy not to take this any further." He returned to his side of the desk and his decidedly higher chair, "What we need to do now is..."

Jocasta sat in stunned silence as the head master talked at her about special needs, behavioural problems and blah, blah. Was this really her boy they were talking about?

Her sweet, sunny and loving Adrian; her one and only son?

When he was at home they had such a close loving friendship with each other. Jocasta could not do enough for Adrian; she catered to his every need and desire. He never behaved badly when he was with her, how could this be the same child?

She decided that actually, no, once again the face didn't fit. Other children were obviously making up lies to get Adrian into trouble. Behavioural problems were just the schools excuse to get rid of their square peg. They would not win. Her Adrian deserved an education the same as every other child. His pain at leaving his mother and her daily torture of listening to his pleading to stay home would not be in vain. The system wanted him; the system could have him and now see it through to the very end; she would make sure Adrian got the education he deserved.

Jocasta decided that she had heard enough from the mouth across the desk. "Mr Cross," she interrupted his incessant droning.

"Yes Mrs Brown?"

"I understand there may be problems with Adrian. I have probably been burying my head in the sand but I want to get him as much help as possible. You are right; he can't be allowed to interact with his classmates if it is going to lead to trouble. Maybe a change of scenery is what he needs. Please do whatever is necessary to help him get on with his schooling."

"Thank you Mrs Brown." Smugness crossed his face and Jocasta could see him mentally patting himself on the back. "We will refer Adrian to special needs and he can start in the unit tomorrow." He handed her a leaflet which gave the address of Adrian's new school placement. "I hope he is happier there than he was here, I really sincerely do."

"Oh I see you've already taken steps to have him removed." Jocasta said accusingly. "I don't know why we bothered with this conversation; it's obvious you already intended to send him away regardless of what happened here." Mr Cross looked down at his desk, seemingly embarrassed by Jocasta's accusations.

"I only want what is best for Adrian, Mrs Brown; I truly believe he will be happier in a specialised unit."

"I'm sure anywhere would be better than here," Jocasta stood up from her chair, "Oh and Mr Cross?"

"Yes Mrs Brown?"

"It's Miss Brown you jumped up prick." Jocasta almost ran out of the door, she could feel her face getting hotter as she walked and knew it must be bright red. Although out of character for her to swear at anyone, Jocasta felt good; it felt right to defend her child.

She went straight to the classroom she had seen Adrian standing in. Looking through the door she saw that indeed it had been Adrian and he was still standing where she had last seen him, sullenly looking at the class before him, not apparently taking part in the school day that played out before him. Jocasta opened the door and walked in, all the children stopped talking and the teacher also looked up at her as she entered. Jocasta walked over to Adrian, took him gently by the hand and walked him out of the classroom without a word. She led him back along the furnace of a hallway, out into the reception area and then out of the school without a backwards glance. Adrian's smile only grew bigger with every step that put space between him and the school he hated so much.

'Being a mother is learning about the strengths you didn't know you had and dealing with fears you didn't know existed.'

Linda Wooten.

December 2000

6am

Jocasta woke before her alarm had a chance to wake her. Having given Adrian the biggest bedroom - well he had so much more stuff in the house - she rose from her single bed. The 'value' sheet she had purchased from Big Value had once again pinged its way off the corners of her bed. Jocasta carried out her morning ritual dance around her mattress, pulling at the corners of the elasticated sheet until finally managing to fit them onto the rectangle of sponge and spring at her knees. She laid her quilt carefully and plumped her two pillows up at the head of her bed before putting on her slippers and making her way to the bathroom.

Turning on the shower, Jocasta noticed the ever present blackness on the grout between the once gleaming tiles. No amount of cleaning can compensate for wear and tear, and because Jocasta spent all her benefits on the things which Adrian required it didn't leave a lot for renovation. She let loose a sigh and allowed herself a moment to assess her face in the mirror.

The mirror and tiles weren't the only things showing signs of wear and tear; Jocasta's face peered back at her through the mirror. Now 37 years old, she was aware she was no longer young and that middle-age was creeping up on her. Her once brown hair was now mostly grey; not such a loss, brown was hardly a colour to cling to. The same dark brown eyes stared back under the now wrinkling hoods and the unibrow had won the fight against hair removal long ago, Jocasta having realised that the only person who cared was her and actually she didn't mind it really. She wondered if her parents had the same feature on their face. If her mother could ever recover from her ordeal to accept her - even if Jocasta
did
look like her rapist father - then perhaps they could reunite and she would find out. Considering her age, she knew it was possible that both her parents were now dead and she may never have the relationship she used to dream of; her mother turning up at her door with her arms open wide waiting to embrace the daughter she could now accept as time had healed her wounds.

Jocasta thought she actually looked better with a bit of age on her, almost as if she had grown into her face. She knew her body was back to being the lumpy potato; days spent waiting for Adrian to come home had made her reach for the biscuit jar regularly, but she felt her age meant that it was ok to be a bit bigger around the middle. There was no one to ask an opinion of so she would keep her own counsel and accept her self-assessed compliment.

Jocasta had spent far too much time gawping at herself in the mirror; she jumped in the shower and quickly scrabbled at her hair with shampoo, allowing the soapy water to cleanse the rest of her body. She needed to hurry, it was nearly time to get Adrian up for school and sort his breakfast out. He was ten now but Jocasta still liked to help him get dressed in the morning, she knew her role on this earth and that was to be a mother to her son.

-x-

7am.

Jocasta walked into Adrian's room. She knew he didn't like the light being switched on as it hurt his eyes so Jocasta walked to the Scooby Doo curtains and pulled them open for him. "Good morning sleepy head," she said and turned to tickle Adrian's foot which was poking out from the quilt at the side of his bed. Immediately she knew that something wasn't right, Adrian's foot felt slick with sweat and hot to touch.

"Adrian, are you alright my darling?" She pulled down the quilt to find Adrian's hair also wet with sweat. Heat emanated from his whole body, it was a tangible extra layer on his skin.

"Adrian?"

"Mummy I don't feel well."

"I know darling, where does it hurt?"

"I don't know; down here," he said, indicating to his lower stomach by rubbing at the bottom of his belly. "I think it's my willy." He was lying on his side in a foetal position, pulling his legs up and rocking as if to relieve a pain.

"Your..." what? That didn't sound like a plausible place for Adrian to have a problem. "Let me see Adrian, let mummy see where it hurts."

Adrian rolled onto his back and weakly pulled at his pyjama bottoms. Jocasta could see how weak he was and realised this was no time to afford Adrian his privacy. She grabbed at his pyjamas and hurriedly pulled them down. Adrian's testicles were swollen; they were turning black as Jocasta looked at them. She held onto a scream, not wanting to scare Adrian.

"Ok Adrian, we need to take you to the hospital."

"Why mummy?" he began to whimper, "What's wrong, why does it hurt?"

"It's going to be ok, they are just a little bit sore and are making you ill darling, I am going to get you some medicine and call an ambulance, you would like a ride in an ambulance wouldn't you?" Jocasta was sure that had Adrian been feeling better he would have protested at the very notion of medicine considering his ability to projectile vomit at the first hint of it, but his quiet acquiescence made her realise this was bad and Adrian desperately needed help. She rushed to make the phone call which would save her baby's life then retrieved the medicine from the cupboard in the bathroom and returned to Adrian's side, pouring the medicine into a spoon, her shaking hands causing more of it to fall on the floor than remain on the metal disc.

Jocasta climbed into the divan bed which had Scooby Doo sheets to match the curtains and the rug on the bedroom floor. She brought Adrian towards her and sat him up as much as she could, stuffing pillows and teddies behind him to prop him up. "Here Adrian, take this." She said as she offered him a spoonful of the pink sticky mixture. She had to push the spoon into his mouth as Adrian hardly seemed to be able to move. His body was actually burning the very parts of skin which Jocasta was touching him with, she realised she would have to let go of Adrian as her embrace would only make him hotter.

-x-

An image of Adrian's funeral played itself in Jocasta's mind as she sat and waited for what seemed like forever. She wouldn't let the funeral parlour dress him, she would do it herself. Jocasta imagined going into the mortuary with Adrian's favourite clothes, no, not clothes, his pyjamas; he was going to sleep for a very long time. She imagined going to the table where he lay and seeing him before her, perfect in her eyes and again she felt the warm enveloping love his appearance evoked in her. Jocasta reaches out to touch her son and he feels hard and cold. Not the warm squidgy loveliness of Adrian but the frozen shell of what he used to be. Despair and a feeling of complete loss makes its way from Jocasta's stomach and works its way up her body causing her to catch her breath. She feels her face beginning to tighten and her eyes to well up. "Stop." She told herself and shook her head to rid the image from her mind.

Looking down on her not dead, still with the living son, she focused on keeping him cool and grabbed a book from his overflowing toy shelves to begin fanning him with.

-x-

A knock on the front door spurred Jocasta into action; she ran to open the door and was met by two men in green. Jocasta let in the two men, who came through the door nonchalantly.

"Hello, what's the problem; we got a call about a child with a temperature?"

Jocasta, even though realising it was a very important factor in Adrian's illness, had not been able to tell the operator about Adrian's testicles; she just could not bring herself to mention it to a stranger over the telephone.

"Yes," she said, "But he also has another problem I need to show you." She led the paramedics to Adrian's room. He still lay on the bed, now naked as Jocasta had been trying to keep him cool. When the first paramedic entered the room and saw Adrian his whole demeanour changed. This wasn't a run of the mill child with a temperature, this was something much worse.

"Get the bed Tony; we need to get him back to A&E quick." As he said this the paramedic was already picking Adrian up in his arms and moving him out of the flat. "Ma'am we need to get your son to the hospital as soon as possible, please come along with me." As he was saying this, he grabbed Adrian in his arms and walked out of the front door, Jocasta followed, forgetting to collect her belongings as she left and only just managing to remember her door keys so she could let herself back into the flat on her return home. She just hoped that she would be bringing Adrian back with her.

-x-

Jocasta sat, stood and paced in the hospital waiting room, she knew it was twenty steps from one side of the room to the other, there were fifteen blue plastic chairs and they were screwed into the floor. She also knew that it hadn't been cleaned in some time as dust bunnies played amongst the legs of the chairs as she caused a breeze with her constant pacing. Jocasta remembered when Adrian was born here at West London hospital, how he seemed to be dealt with so quickly and returned to her, problem solved. Not this time, this wait seemed to go on forever and was interspersed with terrible recurring images of Adrian cold and dead on the mortuary slab. Jocasta had never felt such terrible grief; it was painful and felt as if claws were tearing at the very heart of her.

Just when she felt she could take no more, the doctor came through the waiting room door.

"Mrs Brown."

"It's Miss."

"Sorry, Miss Brown, Adrian is going to be fine."

"Oh thank god," the rush of relief was giddying in its intensity.

"Yes he will be fine, health wise, but I am afraid I need to discuss his operation with you, please sit down."

They both sat in the cold blue chairs of the hostile waiting room and Jocasta learned that Adrian's testicles had to be removed; the medical term was 'Testicular Torsion', they had strangulated once again and could not be rescued this time. It was necessary, if his life was to be saved, to remove them. She was told Adrian
should
be able to have a normal sex life when he was older but obviously could never have children. He would need testosterone injections as he reached puberty and beyond and when he reached adulthood they could implant silicone testicles so his appearance was 'normal'.

"Well that's alright then isn't it?" Jocasta used her sarcasm often as a defence. Actually she thought it
was
alright. Adrian didn't need to have children when he was older. He had her, they had each other,
she
would love him no matter what. Everything was going to be fine.