The Boy No One Loved: A Heartbreaking True Story of Abuse, Abandonment and Betrayal. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ over what would be personal choices, I then sent him into a shop alone, while Riley and I waited outside. He was gone a long time, and when he did finally emerge, empty handed, I could see that the dark expression had overtaken him again.

      ‘It’s shit in there!’ he shouted, as he stormed across the concourse to where we were sitting. ‘There’s too much in there. I don’t know what to buy!’ He then turned to Riley, and I could see he was close to tears now. ‘Please,’ he said to her, ‘can you choose for me?’

      ‘Of course,’ she said, leaping up, and leading him straight back inside again. They returned minutes later and his face was much brighter. They’d got a necklace for his mum and two superhero models for his brothers, and he seemed genuinely pleased to have had her help him. And as we left the mall, it occurred to me that his see-saw behaviour was, in fact, very understandable. Was there anything more difficult for children who had nothing – and more than that, no-one to love them or to care for them – than seeing a world full of families and so much festive cheer and joy? It was particularly hard, given his desperate and lonely situation, and the fact that he was going to be ‘allowed’ to see his mother for just a few hours in as many long months.

      But there was also a big positive in all this, I reflected. He seemed to have at least got over his animosity towards Riley. So, on balance, a very productive day.

      As Christmas Day itself – the Big One – loomed ever nearer, Justin also found an unlikely ally in Kieron. Though Justin was still intermittently excited about everything, the strain on all of us was showing because for the most part his mood, with the endless waves of friends and relatives stopping by, and all the attendant disruption and chatter, was becoming more volatile and darker with every passing hour.

      And we did have an awful lot of visitors. My brother and his family stayed over, and we had lots dropping in, from neighbours to friends to some of my old colleagues from school. The house was constantly full of noise – good noise, in the main; lots of fun and lots of laughter – but Justin increasingly sought to avoid it or, if he did stick around, seemed intent on embarrassing me, telling my niece and nephew that there was no such thing as Santa, swearing, slamming doors and drowning out any conversation by pointedly turning the volume on the TV to max. But it was me, as it turned out, that needed teaching a lesson, and it was through Kieron, my own son, that I got one.

      Much as he loved Christmas, Kieron found it stressful too, as it obviously meant major changes to his routine, and lots of unscheduled comings and goings, which always made him nervous. He would often, therefore, take off to his bedroom the minute he heard the sound of the doorbell.

      On the day of my brother’s visit, my little niece, Brooke, wanted to give Kieron his present herself, but when I looked for him I realized couldn’t find him. When I’d last seen him he’d been in the conservatory, putting up some last-minute decorations for me, but when I called him I got no response. I ran upstairs, planning to pop my head round his bedroom door, but as I approached I could hear male voices and laughter coming from Justin’s room. I stopped outside then, and heard Kieron’s voice. ‘I know how you feel, mate. Mum’s always like this,’ he was saying. I realized immediately that he must be talking to Justin. ‘She’s always been like it,’ he mused. ‘She just loves all the noise and having loads of people round.’ I heard him laugh then. ‘Trouble is, she thinks everyone else does as well!’

      Then Justin spoke. ‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘You can stay here with me, if you like. Stay in my room till everyone’s gone, if you want to. We can play footie manager – as long as I can be Germany. Okay? You can be England, and we’ll kick your butt.’

      ‘Set it up, then,’ Kieron replied, laughing. ‘Let’s see how good you really are.’

      I crept away then, the idea of calling Kieron down now off the agenda, and cursing myself for being so lacking in perspective that I couldn’t see that not everyone was as Christmas crazy as I was. God, it was my butt that needed kicking.

      And, of course, I did get my comeuppance, because it duly got kicked. By Christmas Eve, despite my determination to be mindful of how hyper I could get at this time of year, I was in overdrive. Christmas Eve was always a busy day for me anyway but this one was even busier than usual. Not least because I was up so early – before Justin got up – ringing round all my friends and family to explain that we’d decided to cancel our planned Christmas Eve party. Mike and I had discussed it at length and decided it was the only sensible thing to do; we just didn’t think Justin would be able to cope with it.

      Kieron was pleased, but poor Riley was not. ‘God, Mum!’ she launched at me, in an uncharacteristic outburst. ‘That kid is beginning to ruin everything already! David and I were both really looking forward to tonight. And now it’s going to be crap. Thanks a lot.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I began, ‘but –’

      ‘And why does he have to be here anyway?’ she interrupted. ‘Surely there’s someone who wants to see him over Christmas? Why can’t you just sort it so he can go somewhere else tonight?’

      I tried to explain gently to her that, really, there was no-one, and to suggest that perhaps she was being just a little selfish; that the whole point of us fostering was to help this unhappy child. We’d hardly be doing that if we packed him off at any time, but to do so at Christmas – how could we?

      To my great relief (tinged with guilt; this was her mum and dad’s choice, after all, not hers) she accepted this and came over to help me wrap some presents, while Kieron and Justin played yet more Football Manager upstairs. I’d dispatched Mike, meanwhile (and not at all to his liking) to head to town with my last-minute shopping list.

      Perhaps, I thought, just perhaps, all would be well. I took a deep breath. So far, at least.

      But the calm in the Watson household wasn’t destined to last. It was around four in the afternoon and by now I was busy in the kitchen, preparing the veg for our Christmas dinner the next day. Justin had been downstairs a couple of times, moaning about how I hadn’t written what we were having for tea on the chart yet, and when he made a third appearance, I was short with him.

      ‘Look, love,’ I said to him, conscious even then that I was irritable. ‘I am trying to get the food ready for tomorrow. I do have other things on my mind besides what you’re having for your tea!’

      Almost as soon as I’d said this, I wished I could have swallowed the words, because Justin’s reaction was instantaneous. His eyes darkened, in that rather scary way we’d come to witness – a sure sign that he’d lost it, and big time.

      ‘You can stick your tea and your Christmas up your arse!’ he roared at me, before flying from the room and slamming the kitchen door so hard I was sure it made the walls rattle.

      Kieron appeared in the kitchen moments later, presumably having heard this and passed Justin on the stairs. I tried to bite back the tears that were springing from my eyes. I don’t think until that moment I’d really accepted quite how stressed out I really was, and the last thing I wanted was for Kieron to see it now. But within seconds, things were about to get worse. Before I had even started telling Kieron what had just occurred, Justin burst back in through the door, his eyes now blazing, his cheeks florid, brandishing all the Disney DVDs that we’d bought for him, screaming manically as he snapped them, one by one, in half.

      ‘This is what I think of your stupid fucking tea!’ he screamed at me. ‘And this is what I think of your stupid fucking presents! They’re for kids!’ he yelled, as shards of DVD flew across the kitchen. ‘So why don’t you give them to your ugly fucking niece! I don’t want them, okay? And I couldn’t play them СКАЧАТЬ