Page 82 of The Player
“Yeah, I think that was the place you went to years ago. But you weren’t there for long,” she answered defensively. “I got you out of there as soon as I got back on my feet. You couldn’t have been there for longer than two weeks, maybe three.”
“Why don’t I remember any of this?” I rubbed my temple with my thumb and forefinger, willing the memories to come back to me, but there was nothing.
“You were only about seven. Frankie would’ve been two,” she explained. “It was after your dad died. Social services came to take you both into care. They said I couldn’t cope.” She was quiet for a moment. “It was bullshit, of course, but I didn’t have a leg to stand on back then. I tried to stop them from taking you. I did everything I could.”
“I know you did, Mum. I’m not asking to make you feel bad. I just need to know about something.”
“I’m not sure why you’re dragging all of this up now. It wasn’t my finest hour, but okay, fine,” she moaned, then huffed before speaking again. “They came early in the morning to take you away. You were both still in your pyjamas. They put Frankie in the back of the social workers car, but you ran away from them, said you had to get your wrestling figures for Frankie ‘cos he wouldn’t go anywhere without them. But they were yours. It was your way of trying to escape and get back to me. They chased you back into the house, let you pick two wrestlers, and then they carried you away.”
And something, some small memory hidden in the recesses of my brain suddenly flickered to life.
Nineteen Years Ago…
The Story of Clivesdon House
We’d only just woken up when the loud knock came from the front door. We were sitting watching cartoons while Mum got herself ready. There wasn’t any food in the kitchen for breakfast, but it was okay. Mum said we’d go shopping later and get some. I wasn’t stupid. I knew she meant steal it, but I didn’t mind. Mum made it fun. Like a game. I liked running fast with my pockets full, knowing I was winning. They caught my mum a few times, but they never caught me.
When I heard the knock at the door, I did what Mum always told us to do and hid behind the sofa. We did that every time the landlord came around. We did it most times there was someone at our front door. Mum didn’t like having strangers in the house. But when the people knocking this time started to shout our names as they banged on the windows, telling us they could see us and they knew we were in, I could tell this would be different. These weren’t strangers, not the kind Mum wanted us to hide from. But then I heard Mum shout back to them from the hallway, saying she wouldn’t open up. She told them to go away. They told her if she didn’t open the door, they’d call the police to come and let them in, so she gave up. Mum didn’t usually give up so easily.
I thought they were here for money. Mum owed a lot of people, but they walked right into the living room, asking to see me and Frankie. Everything after that happened in a blur. Frankie didn’t really understand, but they told us they were taking us somewhere for a while, a new place to stay until our mum was able to care for us again. I didn’t get it. Mum was caring for us now, and when Mum started to cry, grabbing for us and begging them not to take us, they stood in her way and told her she had to abide by the courts, whatever that meant.
They gave her papers and then picked up Frankie and took him out of the room. One of the women took my hand and led me out, following Frankie and the other lady, but I twisted and craned my neck, trying to see my mum. The way my stomach was churning told me this was wrong, I had to do something to stop it, but the woman holding my hand wouldn’t let go. I tried to twist my hand, yank it out of hers, but she only held on tighter, using her other hand to grip my arm.
“I don’t want to go,” I shouted, kicking out. “You can’t make me.”
But she was stronger than I was, and she managed to get me outside.
From inside the house, I could hear Mum crying, “Please don’t take my babies. I’ll try better. I promise,” but they just told her no, she had to work on getting herself clean, and if she could do that, then she could speak to her social worker about the next steps.
Get herself clean?
I don’t know why they said that, she’d showered a few days ago. She wasn’t a dirty mum. Sometimes the house got dirty, but she was a good mum and we helped as much as we could, especially when she’d had too much of her wine and fell asleep before our bedtime.
I always put Frankie to bed before I went back down to the living room and covered her with a blanket. I was the oldest now, and Dad had told me right before he’d died that I was the man of the house and had to take care of my mum and little brother. Maybe that’s why they were taking us? I hadn’t done a good enough job. I’d let them all down.
I saw the lady ahead of us put Frankie into a car seat in the back of her car, and a burst of defiance hit me. I got lucky when the lady holding my hand loosened her grip, and I was able to snatch my hand away and run back into the house.
I could sense her chasing after me, but I didn’t slow down. If I could get back in to Mum, we could think of something to force them to bring Frankie back in too.
When I ran into the living room, I saw Mum lying in a heap on the floor as the other lady stood over her. Mum was crying and the other lady was going on about social services and standards of care. When she saw me burst through the door, my mum’s eyes grew wide, and the lady standing over her turned to look at me.
“Don’t make this any harder than it already is, Diane,” the lady said to Mum. “You’re upsetting the children. This won’t be for long. It’s a temporary arrangement to help you and them.”
Mum nodded, and I glared back, begging her to think of something to say so they’d bring Frankie back. But Mum just stared at me, her face wet with tears.
“Be a good boy and do what these ladies tell you, Will,” she said, sounding calmer than before but still hiccupping as she spoke. “Look after Frankie, and in a few days, I’ll come back to get you, okay? Can you be my big man and do that for me?”
I nodded, but I still didn’t want to go. I didn’t want Frankie to either.
In the corner of the room were some of the toys we’d been playing with this morning while we waited for Mum to wake up. My wrestling figures were on the floor and an idea hit me.
“Frankie needs his wrestlers.” I turned to peer up at the lady who’d run in after me, giving her what Mum always called my ‘puppy dog eyes’. They always worked on Mum, so maybe they’d work on her too. “You need to bring him back in so he can choose which ones he’s taking.”
But she shook her head, lines appearing on her forehead as she said to me, “Frankie is staying in the car, and you need to come too.”
Mum spoke up then, adding, “Frankie needs you, Will. Take two wrestlers, one each, and then go straight outside to him. He’ll be getting scared. You know what he’s like.”
I could tell she didn’t want me to argue. At least, not here in the living room.
