A Dark Secret: Part 2 of 3. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ Luna and drive back to mine to walk her. He’d come and pick her up from us on his way home again. So half an hour after that, Sam and I (him as excited as a puppy himself) set off to the park and woods at the end of our road, on what had turned out, though still windy, to be a lovely bright spring afternoon.

I’d been here many, many times before, of course. It was one of the main reasons we’d come to love living where we did so much. We’d moved to our current home several years back, in circumstances that weren’t exactly ideal (it had been with a heavy heart, and we’d only done so because of a previous foster child we’d cared for), but we’d settled in really quickly, not least because of the lovely (and, happily, tolerant) neighbours, plus the beautiful green space that was just a walk away. I’d brought previous foster children here, and my own grandchildren, obviously, who loved the woods and the play area and – best of all – being able to paddle in the small stream which ran through it.

      And, as soon as we set off, I could tell straight away that to bring Sam here, perhaps daily – at least till a school was found for him – would potentially be a good thing for him too; not least to wear him out a bit and perhaps, as a result, take the edge off his rages and meltdowns.

      We’d brought Luna’s ball, and her plastic ball-throwing doohickey. I carried the latter, while Sam took charge of lead duties, thrilled to be responsible for extending the line, and reeling her back in again to cross the road.

      ‘This is wicked,’ he enthused, as if it was the best invention ever. ‘It’s like she can be on the lead but off the lead all at once. I think all dogs should be given them, on the Health Service.’

      It was such a funny little thing to say that I almost laughed out loud. And did, when he declared the ball-throwing device to be, in contrast, the worst invention ever. ‘Why can’t people throw with their actual arms?’ he wanted to know. ‘Doing it with that thing’s so lazy.’

I could only agree, so we abandoned the ball-throwing doohickey, and as I watched him enjoy the simple pleasure of spending time with Kieron’s dog, I was reminded of the oft-quoted truism about animals – that they really could be good for the soul. And for this little troubled soul, definitely.

      And as is so often the case when you’re out with a dog, we passed other dogs, and other owners I knew. And one dog in particular, a Collie called Flame, who lived on our street, but who was tugging on his lead in his enthusiasm to say hello, but from the grip of an unexpected owner.

      Flame was owned by a lady who lived a few doors down called Mrs Pegg, but he was in the charge of a teenager I didn’t recognise. At least, I thought I didn’t, but when he caught up with his overexcited canine, I realised his face was familiar from somewhere.

      And I was right. He was Mrs Pegg’s grandson, Oliver. ‘She’s recovering from surgery,’ he explained, when I asked how she was. ‘She got her knee-replacement operation moved forward.’

      I knew my neighbour was on the waiting list but, as with knee operations everywhere, had assumed it would be months away yet.

      ‘Is she okay?’ I asked. ‘Does she need anything?’

      ‘She’s fine,’ Oliver said. ‘Just can’t walk much for a bit, obviously.’ He made a grab for Flame’s lead so he wouldn’t trample Luna in his excitement. Then smiled wryly. ‘In the meantime, we’ve got a rota.’

      ‘What’s a rota?’ Sam piped up.

      ‘Like a chart,’ I explained. ‘With a list of who’s supposed to do what and when.’

‘I’ve got a chart! I’ve got a chart!’ Sam trilled to Oliver. ‘I do lots of different things when I’m supposed to as well. And when I do them I get a star on it. Do you?’

      Oliver shook his head. ‘No, just one of my nan’s “brownie points”,’ he said, chuckling.

      ‘And her undying gratitude,’ I added. ‘Of that I’m sure. Will you tell her I’ll pop over to see her later?’

      And as we parted, and I made a mental note to do just that, I reflected that while Sam had his chart, I had something equally useful.

      An idea.

Chapter 10

      My dog-walking idea proved to be a winner. Not only did I have the undying gratitude of my neighbour’s grandson, but, as far as I could fathom Sam’s complicated personality, I felt I’d really turned a corner with him, at least in knowing what made him happy, because walking Flame seemed to make him very happy indeed.

      It also provided an outlet for his need to howl and bark and, though we attracted the odd sideways look when Sam launched into an episode, most didn’t even bat an eyelid – he was just a nine-year-old boy, out with a dog, who was pretending to be a dog. As for the dog himself, well, he seemed to enjoy it too.

Our new regime of daily dog walks also proved to be a much-needed distraction from all the waiting around for news from the various authorities. Although meeting Colin Sampson had been uplifting, and a very positive experience, I still knew that all the reams of red tape dictated that we had a long road ahead. There were lots of unanswered questions and only certain professionals had the authority to answer them. CAMHS – Child and Adolsescent Mental Health Services – would ultimately decide if Sam really was autistic, and if so, what level of help he would need. The ELAC team would then decide which school he could be enrolled with and, finally, social services would then update Sam’s care plan to show how we, as a family, could best address and support his needs.

      In the meantime, as a family, there was some nice news. In the form of an invitation from my niece Chloe – my sister Donna’s daughter – to a wedding just under six weeks hence. Closely followed (Six weeks away? Whattt? had been my first thought) by a call from Donna herself.

      ‘Sorry,’ she said immediately. ‘I meant to call you last week. But it’s all been so manic since I saw you –’

      ‘I’m not surprised!’ I interrupted. ‘What’s going on? Why? I thought they were getting married next spring, not this spring.’

      ‘D’oh,’ my sister laughed. ‘Because she’s just found out she’s pregnant!’

      ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Wow. That’s certainly … unexpected.’ And it was. My niece was the last person on earth I’d have expected to be expecting unexpectedly. Just like her mum she had life organised to the nth degree. Yes, she’d been with her fiancé a good while now, and they were definitely planning to have children, but as far as I’d been aware, they’d planned to do things in a slightly different order to the one my sister sketched out to me now.

‘Oh, they hummed and hawed about it,’ she explained. ‘They initially thought they’d just have the baby and get married next year, like they’d planned to, but in the end she decided she’d rather be a bride without a baby, in preference to being in the first throes of motherhood – fat and tired, as she put it, bless her – and as it’s turned out they can have a venue gratis, it was a no-brainer.’

      Donna went on to explain that Jack’s boss – Jack being Chloe’s fiancé, and a chef – had offered them the use of the marquee at his hotel, after they’d had a late cancellation. And though Donna sympathised with the girl who’d cancelled – as did I, poor thing, because her fiancé had apparently split up with СКАЧАТЬ