Gran's House
by Kit
Chapter 4
The following morning, I got an email from Rose with the forms she'd promised to send. It also contained some links related to the effects of bereavement on children. I immediately completed the forms and returned them. However, I decided to make sure I completed my study schedule for the day before looking at the links.
During the next couple of days I made very good progress going through my study timetable. As soon as the SIM card arrived, I put it in the box with my old phone and sent it to Rose. On the day of my scheduled chat with the boys, I got up early.
"Have you had breakfast?" I asked the boys after the initial greetings were done.
"Ages ago," replied Connor in a dismissive tone.
He gave the impression that it was a lame question and that it was something I should already have known. Admittedly, it was a lame question.
"What did you have?" I asked, trying to get a conversation going.
"Cereal and toast and scrambled eggs," Liam replied. "But I don't like eggs!"
"That's something we have in common," I said. "I hate eggs, too."
"What did you have?" the younger boy asked.
"Belgian waffles with maple syrup. Nice and quick and easy."
"Are Belgian waffles like frozen waffles?" Connor asked. "That would be yucky with syrup."
"The Belgian waffles I have aren't made with potato," I replied as it occurred to me that he was referring to potato waffles. "The ones I have are sweet and are lovely with maple syrup. Sometimes I have them with syrup and ice cream as a quick snack in the afternoon."
"That sounds nice," Connor admitted.
"Do you have any plans for the weekend?" I asked.
"Not really," the older boy said. "It's a bit boring."
"If the weather's nice, I'll go in the garden," Liam added. "I like the garden. There wasn't one where we lived before."
"Gran loved the garden, but I don't have much time for it now, so it isn't as pretty as it was," I admitted. "But when I was a boy, I loved playing in the garden. And when I was very little, there was a sandpit."
"You're lucky," the little boy said enviously.
"What are you doing this weekend?" Connor asked.
His tone of voice sounded like he was trying to hide genuine interest behind a screen of indifference. I wished that I could see his facial expression so that I could interpret his attitude better.
"Study, study, study!" I complained. "I have big exams in a few weeks, and it's important that I do well. But I guess I should also try and get some exercise, so I'll probably find time to go running."
"I hate exams," Connor said.
"I hate study," his little brother added.
"I don't love studying or exams," I said, "but it's okay if you like the subject. And sometimes you need to do things you don't really like now so that things will be better in the future."
"We have to go back to school on Monday," Liam said sadly, a slight whine in his voice.
"At least in school I can have a proper game of football," his big brother said.
For some reason, maybe because of the tone of their voices or because of the short answers, I had the feeling that the boys weren't really into this chat. I wondered if perhaps they weren't morning people. If so, that was another thing we had in common.
"Rose said you'll be going back to university soon," Connor said, sounding surprisingly unhappy.
"Yes, I'll be going back next week, on Sunday."
"Will you still talk to us when you go away?" Liam asked with a concerned tone.
Then it occurred to me that maybe the relatively subdued tone of this conversation wasn't just because of the time of day but also because they thought I might be going away.
"Of course I'll still be able to talk to you," I reassured him, "but maybe not quite so often while you're at school and I'm at uni. I'll have to go to classes as well as studying."
They didn't respond, and I felt that maybe they needed more reassurance.
"Look, I've only just found my brothers, so I'm not going to lose touch with them just because I'm at uni."
After that, both boys seemed less subdued, and the conversation became more animated until eventually Rose said that it was time to end our chat. At that point, all three of us brothers uttered an 'Awwwww' of complaint.
Shortly after my previous interactions with the boys, Rose had called me for some 'psychoanalysis', or maybe it was intended to be more of a debriefing. Therefore, I'd half expect her to phone after this latest chat had ended. However, she didn't call, and I went back to my studies. In the evening, I went to have a meal with my godparents and stayed there until Saturday morning. As usual, it was very enjoyable, despite Aunt Anne's occasional hint that maybe I wasn't doing enough to get to know my brothers.
Rose phoned me on Monday, late in the morning.
"Sorry for the delay getting back to you with feedback from your last chat with your brothers."
"Ah! It's feedback now," I joked. "What happened to the psychoanalysis?"
"The two aren't mutually exclusive," she replied. "Oh, and thanks for the phone. There's not been time to have it checked yet, but even when it's been checked, I don't know when the boys will be able to use it."
"That's okay. At least now it's available when you decide."
"That decision isn't just for me to make," she replied. "There will be others involved, such as my line manager, and she'll definitely consult with the boys' foster carers."
"Okay," I said. "Do I get some feedback now?"
"As you may have guessed," she said seriously, "your brothers have started to form a bond with you."
"I thought that was your plan all along."
"Not so much a plan but more a hope."
"So why do you sound concerned about it?" I asked, puzzled.
"Because it's happened much faster than I expected. They haven't had time to get to know you properly, and neither have I. You seem to have a pleasant, even charming, personality, but I don't know how reliable you are.
"I'm sure you could tell how Liam and even Connor were unhappy with the idea that you might lose contact with them. Their mother just disappeared from their lives, so you can imagine how hurt they'd be if their only other relative also disappeared."
"Yes, but I thought I'd reassured them about that."
"I think you may have managed to do that, and thanks for making the effort. However, you're still young; you have a life at university and then a career that could take you anywhere in the world. Your future is very uncertain, which makes me concerned that you'll soon get over the novelty of finding your brothers and that other things will take priority over staying in touch with them."
"I get the feeling that you think that being young makes me unreliable. But on the other hand, doesn't it also mean that I'm less likely to suddenly drop dead? And it feels a little insulting that you feel that I don't really care about my brothers or that I can't make commitments and keep to them."
"Please don't take this personally," she said earnestly. "There have been many times that I've seen people who are willing, even eager, to help children, and then they find it becomes inconvenient or impossible to keep up a commitment. Of course, trying to avoid such situations is part of my job, but it's also something that I care about very deeply."
"Okay," I said, after taking a few moments to consider her words. "We both have the same goal. Of course, your experience is a great asset, but as you said, you've not had time to get to know me."
"Hopefully, that's something that can be fixed. I have a little time available now, so why don't you tell me a bit more about yourself?"
That put me on the spot, and I wondered if this might be some sort of test. What could she expect in the 'little time available', and what would she think would be relevant? Come to that, what did I think would be relevant?
"I grew up with no mother and as an only child with my grandparents," I began hesitantly. "There were many times that I wished that I had a sibling. When my grandparents died, I thought I had no living relatives. Then I found out that I had two brothers. At first that was just an interesting piece of information. After all, as far as I know, my unknown father could also have other children. But after I talked to them, I realised that they were not just real people but really my brothers.
"Perhaps what's more important from your point of view is that I've started to feel a bond with them. Yes, it's been only a very short time, with only a very few chats, and we've never met in person, but I feel a connection. My wish to stay connected with my brothers isn't just because I want to help them, but because I want them in my life as the siblings I used to wish for. Maybe that's selfish of me, but at least being selfish doesn't require a lot of commitment."
There was a long silence after that little speech, and for a moment I wondered if the call had been disconnected or if Rose had simply lost interest in what I was saying. Eventually, just before I could ask if she was still there, she spoke.
"You're an eloquent young man, Paul, and you've given me something to think about."
"Oh, and by the way," I added, "I looked up the links you sent on bereavement in children, and I read the articles. I can see how complex things can be, and I'm beginning to realise that I need to read and understand more. But I hope that you or your colleagues would be able to give me advice occasionally."
"Of course, if it helps you to help the children, we can provide guidance. Anyway, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Bye for now."
The talk with Rose also gave me a lot to think about, and while I ate lunch, I wondered whether my little speech had made things better or worse. However, I managed to put it out of my mind while I kept up with my study schedule.
The following day, just after I'd finished breakfast, Rose called again.
"Hello, Paul. I'm sorry that this is short notice, but I wonder if you could come to my department on Thursday afternoon at two o'clock. I recall that you said you're going back to university this weekend, so this will be the only opportunity we will have to meet with you in person before you go."
"You mean an interview? And who is 'we'?"
"It's not a formal interview but more of a chance to have a chat in person. By 'we', I mean myself, my line manager, and one of the boys' foster carers. The foster carers know the boys better than anyone and would be involved in whatever is decided."
"Erm, okay, that'll be fine."
"Wonderful! We'll see you then."
She immediately ended the call before either of us actually said 'goodbye'.
My initial reaction was to start worrying about what might happen at the meeting. Although she'd said it wasn't a formal interview, it made me feel like I did when I went for interviews before choosing a university. On further consideration, however, I felt that it may have been a good sign. After all, why go to all the trouble of arranging this 'not-interview' if they weren't intending to give serious consideration to me being more available for my brothers?
When I arrived at the Children's Services offices, I felt a mixture of nervousness and hope. After careful consideration and a few changes of mind, I was wearing trousers and a casual jacket with a good shirt but no tie. Rose came to the reception area and escorted me to a meeting room.
Her appearance bore little relationship to the mental picture that I'd formed of her. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, which was older than I expected, and she was shorter than I'd imagined. There were significant streaks of grey in her thick, wavy black hair that cascaded down to her shoulders. Her informal navy-blue dress appeared to be very loose-fitting, and I wondered if she'd recently lost some weight.
The meeting room was a typical light and airy modern office space. There was a medium-sized oval table and a couple of smaller round tables, all with dark grey veneer. Several black plastic chairs were stacked at one end of the room, and a large whiteboard stood at the other. A man and a woman were sitting at one of the smaller round tables. They stood as I entered, and Rose made the introductions.
Janet Ferguson, a tall, slim woman of African ancestry, was Rose's line manager. She appeared to be a little older than Rose and was dressed more formally in a grey blouse and a long black skirt. The man was David Jacobs, who was about my height and appeared to be in his mid-thirties. I was informed that he and his wife, Sarah, were my brothers' foster carers.
With a slightly embarrassed smile, he pointed out that he'd 'drawn the short straw' when it came to deciding which of them would be attending this meeting. His thick mop of dark brown hair seemed to flop around as he moved his head, and although he had no facial hair, there was a definite five o'clock shadow. He was wearing a slightly crumpled dark tan casual suit.
As we shook hands, I was invited to sit and was offered a choice of tea or coffee, which I declined. We sat around the table, with Ms Ferguson ahead of me, Mr Jacobs on my left, and Rose on my right. Ms Ferguson started the proceedings.
"Thank you very much for coming, Paul," she said in a slight Scottish accent. She glanced at Rose and added, "Rose tells me that you prefer using first names, and we're all content with using our first names here. After all, this is just an informal chat. We'd like to get an idea of the real person that, so far, Rose has known only over the phone.
"Although it may be that we are the ones asking questions most of the time," she continued, "you should feel free to ask us anything. After all, the four of us here all share the same goal, which is to consider what's best for your brothers."
After that, each of them asked various questions or raised topics to be discussed, and despite the emotional strain I felt, it actually seemed that it was more like a discussion than an inquisition. Janet made notes as we went along, but I couldn't see what she wrote. After our earlier discussions, I wasn't surprised when Rose was just as thorough as the others.
David asked me one of the most thought-provoking questions, though at the time I didn't understand the relevance.
"What do you think are the most important qualities required for someone caring for a child?"
"Well," I said, mentally scrambling for an answer, "I suppose love, kindness. patience, empathy and honesty."
"What do you think that a child needs most?"
"Security," I replied.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because that's what I most appreciated when I was growing up, knowing that there would always be someone there for me. And it's what I missed most when my gran died."
"But you just gave a big list of qualities that you said a carer would need. How does that match up with the child's need for security?"
"All those things are like ingredients," I said after thinking for a couple of seconds. "If you put them all together, then you can give security."
Although I'd thought that they might ask personal or even intimate questions, there was only one topic that might have come under that heading. Janet asked if I was in a relationship, and when I said no, she asked when my last relationship was, how long it lasted and why it ended. My response was to tell them about Mai Li.
Apart from that, they asked about what it was like for me growing up, how my grandparents brought me up, what sort of things I enjoyed at school, what hobbies I had, if I was religious, etc. They also asked about my godparents and my relationship with them. At times, I felt as if parts of the meeting were how I imagined speed dating might be. However, this was not at all speedy, and it lasted almost fifty minutes.
At one point, Janet asked about my university course, what I intended to do when I graduated, and what sort of career I had in mind. I told them that I was currently specialising in the general area of cybersecurity and that it seemed likely that would be a likely career path.
I said I hadn't started thinking about specific jobs yet and was considering taking a few months' break before applying for any jobs. When David asked how I could get by with student debt and without a job or support from my grandmother, I simply said that I didn't have any student loans and that Gran had left me 'comfortably off' for money. For some reason, that felt like an embarrassing admission.
One of the major topics covered, and perhaps the most predictable, was how I felt when I suddenly discovered that I had brothers, especially as they were much younger than I was. Then Janet mentioned that the boys were very vulnerable and that if I was going to be in their lives, it would have to be a serious commitment. So I gave them a version of the speech that I'd previously given to Rose.
Perhaps the most probing and uncomfortable part of the meeting took place when it was near the end. Rose asked me how I felt about my mother, if I felt hurt that she'd deserted me and kept my brothers with her, and if that affected my feelings toward them.
"I didn't actually remember being deserted because I was just a few weeks old," I said slowly, giving myself time to think. "As a toddler, I was told that my mother had simply 'gone away', and as a small child, I just accepted things the way they were. When I eventually learned that she'd simply run off and deserted me, for a while I did feel a little angry and resentful, but I had loving grandparents and godparents to care for me, so I didn't feel unwanted.
"In my mid-teens, I was convinced that my mother was probably dead and that was why she'd never come back for me. Sometimes I wondered if she left because there was something wrong with me, and that question did return when I found out that my mother had other children. And of course I envied them, at least at first.
"My godmother told me that Mary had been very troubled and had problems at school before I was born and even before I would have been conceived. So it seemed that the fact she ran away maybe wouldn't have been because of me. Thinking about it, I now feel sorry for her and not resentful.
"However," I said, emphasising the word, "no matter what my feelings were for my mother, that doesn't affect how I feel about my brothers. They're just children and are the siblings I always wished for when I was growing up. Of course I realise that my brothers' view of Mary will be completely different from mine. My second-hand knowledge of a seventeen-year-old Mary will be a completely different person from the thirty-something mother they knew.
"At some point, I think that when they're ready, my brothers will want to talk about our mother. That will be something that I would be happy to do, and I'll just have to admit to them that I never knew the mother they knew so well.
"Sorry," I concluded, blushing and feeling very embarrassed, "I shouldn't have rambled on so long."
"There's no need to be sorry, Paul," Janet said. "The fact that you've been so open and honest is very helpful and very much appreciated."
Apart from a few pleasantries and minor formalities, that was the end of the meeting. When Rose escorted me back to reception, she appeared to be trying hard to keep her face expressionless. I didn't bother to ask how she thought the meeting had gone because I knew that she wouldn't tell me.
"I have to go and discuss things with Janet and David now, and then I have to dash to a three-thirty appointment. I'll try to contact you again before you go back to university, but if I can't manage that, I'll call you by the end of next week."
With that, she turned away and left the reception area. As I'd been too nervous to eat more than a very light lunch, I suddenly felt very hungry, and I was also in need of a strong coffee. Fortunately, it didn't take long to find a nearby cafe.
Rose hadn't phoned me before Sunday, and I returned to university without getting any feedback from the meeting. When I got back to the student flat in the late afternoon, one of my flatmates was already there. Because of the distance from his home on the South Coast and because he had an early class on Monday, Stephane had decided not to rely on the limited Sunday train service and had travelled up on the Saturday.
He was a couple of inches taller than I, and he was very slim. I suspected that Gran would have described him as a 'beanpole'. His short, dark brown hair was well groomed, and his eyes were a deep, dark brown. In a sort of austere and almost gaunt way, I thought he was quite handsome. Although I got on well with all three of my flatmates, Stephane was the only one I considered to be a friend.
Before Mai Li broke up with me, I'd spent most of my free time with her and almost never socialised with my flatmates outside of the apartment. After the breakup, I immersed myself in my studies and didn't have much of a social life at all, but I found myself spending more time with Stephane. Despite that, we never really spoke about personal matters, and most of our conversations revolved around university, TV programs, movies, food, and other relatively superficial subjects.
Because of that, all I really knew about Stephane was that he studied history, his father was English, his mother was French, his older sister had recently married, he liked jazz, and his birthday was on Valentine's Day. Unlike my other two flatmates, Kelvin and Martin, he never brought girlfriends back to the apartment. I occasionally wondered if he might be gay, but he never brought boyfriends back, either.
Kelvin and Martin weren't expected back until the following day, and neither Stephane nor I felt like cooking or even heating up something from a can, so we decided to share a pizza. We sat on the sofa in the communal living area and watched TV as we ate. Although we'd had a few beers, we were certainly not even close to being drunk. However, it seemed we'd had enough to loosen our inhibitions.
"You've not had a girlfriend since Mai Li?" he said. Although phrased as a statement, the inflection made it into a question.
"No," I admitted.
"I'd have thought a good-looking guy like you wouldn't have any trouble finding a new girlfriend." He paused and then continued in a teasing tone, "Or maybe a boyfriend?"
"Too busy and not enough incentive," I replied, wondering if he'd notice that I'd deliberately not responded to his mention of a boyfriend.
"Isn't getting horny enough of an incentive?" he asked, then smiled in a way that I interpreted as teasing.
"Not enough to want to get involved in a relationship."
We were already sitting quite close together, and now he moved a little closer and looked into my eyes.
"Surely an attractive guy like you could find someone to help him with his horniness without wanting a relationship," he said. "Maybe a friend with benefits?"
It was clear that there was a mutual physical attraction and that we'd reached the point where a decision needed to be made. It seemed that he read my mind because, still looking into my eyes, he tentatively moved his hand until it was just barely touching the side of my thigh. Then I made my decision and put my hand on his thigh. Having correctly interpreted my signal, he kissed me on the mouth, and I opened my lips. A few minutes later we went to his room.
I'd never had oral sex with another male before, but I discovered that I enjoyed it, especially with someone as skilled and enthusiastic as Stephane. My enthusiasm might have matched his, but I doubt that my skill did. However, he seemed satisfied with it. Perhaps it may seem strange, but neither of us actually mentioned our sexualities. No doubt he concluded correctly that I was at least a little bit bisexual, but I still didn't know for sure if he was exclusively gay.
Our mutual arrangement of being friends with benefits lasted for the rest of the time we were at university, and our sexual interactions took place frequently, but for some reason always in his room. The start of our physical intimacy deepened our friendship, and we spent more time socialising together. However, we never discussed our emotions or our relationship, and I would probably have felt uncomfortable if we had. Of course, we were very discreet, and if either of our flatmates suspected anything, they never mentioned it.
On one occasion, soon after the beginning of our sexual relationship, I admitted that I was envious that he was a fluent French speaker. I told him that it had been my worst subject at school and that I'd got higher marks in Latin than in French, which was barely sufficient to ask for directions or place an order in a cafe. After that, he'd frequently whisper in French in my ear when we were in bed together. For the most part, I didn't understand the words, but it gave me goosebumps and sent shivers up my spine, and I found it very erotic.
With classes starting and exams looming, I managed to put the matter of expecting Rose's call to the back of my mind for a few days. However, toward the end of the week, I received a text message from her, asking me when I'd be available for a chat. Assuming that she'd prefer a time during office hours, I suggested Friday afternoon at any time after three o'clock, when my last class would have finished.
"Hello, Paul," she said when she phoned just a few minutes after my suggested time. "I'm really sorry that it's taken so long to get back to you. Unless a situation is an emergency, it can often take considerable time for decisions to be made here."
"I must admit that I was wondering if I'd screwed up at the meeting," I said.
"No, you didn't screw up," she said. "In fact, we were all quite impressed, though there were still some minor reservations."
"Reservations?" I asked.
"I'm afraid that I can't go into details about confidential discussions, but I'm sure that if things go smoothly, those minor reservations will go away," she said reassuringly. "The good news is that it was unanimously agreed that it would be very beneficial for your brothers if your interactions with them increased.
"With that in mind," she continued, "the phone you sent has been passed on to David and Sarah, who, for the time being, will control the boys' access to the phone. Initially, they will arrange mutually convenient phone calls with you and monitor the chats."
"Of course, I understand the need for caution," I said, "but don't you think that's a rather extreme level of security?"
"It's not really to do with what you might think of as 'security'," she replied soothingly. "Monitoring the calls is mainly because we want to know the emotional responses of the boys and monitor how those responses might develop. For example, it would be helpful to assess how your chats might be integrated with any counselling they may be having."
"Okay, thanks," I replied. "So how long will that call monitoring stage last?"
"David and Sarah are busy people, so they would want it to be as short a time as possible," she said wryly. "My guess is that it would be no more than the first few calls. After that, you and the boys can chat at reasonable and mutually convenient times without any monitoring, though the carers will keep an eye on the emotional state of the boys after your conversations."
"I understand," I said, though that still seemed to me to be a little overprotective. "Presumably at some stage I will be able to meet them in person?"
"Of course! In fact, you would be able to have supervised meetings with them now, but with your studies and imminent exams and their school times, that would probably be too difficult to arrange. Eventually, provided the character references and background checks are satisfactory, which I'm sure they will be, you will be able to have unsupervised meetings."
"Thanks. That sounds good."
"On the subject of references, we have only two so far, both from your godparents. However, I expect they will not be totally unbiased. So it might be a good idea to remind your other two referees to send in their forms."
"Yes, of course I'll do that."
"Finally," she said, "from now on, most of your interactions regarding your brothers will be with their immediate care-givers, Sarah and David. However, the boys will remain part of my casework, and I will be following their progress carefully. You can always contact me if you have any questions or concerns."
"Thanks. It's very comforting to know that you will still be involved with Liam and Connor."
"Bye, Paul!"
"Bye!" I was pretty sure that I managed to say that before she hung up.
Based on what Rose had said, it seemed that I would need to wait until one of the foster carers got in touch with me. So, summoning all my patience, I got on with my studies.
Soon after I'd finished lunch on Sunday, I got a phone call from an unrecognised number.
"Hi, Paul. This is David. David Jacobs. I hope this isn't an inconvenient time for you."
"Great to hear from you, David. Your timing's good. Are the boys okay?"
"They're fine. They're also better behaved than many children I've cared for. It's very good of you to provide the boys with a phone, and it's all set up now. I assume that Rose explained how things will work and that this current situation is temporary?"
"Yes, I completely understand."
"Ever since he heard about the phone, Liam's been begging me to let him call you, but I explained the situation to him. He says he understands, but that doesn't make him any more patient," David said in a long-suffering tone.
I could only guess just how much patience and strength of character was required to care for children, some of whom had traumatic backgrounds, especially when those children were not your own.
"Anyway," he continued, "after our Sunday lunch, I find myself with a little free time, so I popped into the office and called you. At the moment I'm using the phone that Sarah and I use for fostering-related calls. You can use this number if you need to contact us about your brothers."
"Thanks. That's very considerate of you."
"I haven't told them yet that I'm calling you because I didn't want to raise their hopes if you weren't available. But now I know you are, I'll hang up, and then I'll call you back on their phone."
"Great. I'll be waiting."
David hung up, and a little less than five minutes later, there was another call from the number I recognised as linked to the SIM card I'd sent with the phone.
"Hello, again," David said. "Here are Liam and Connor."
"I want to hold it!" I heard Liam complain.
"No one is going to hold the phone. I'll put it on speaker and leave it on the desk so you can both speak to Paul."
"Hi, Paul!" Liam called out.
"Hi, brothers!" I said, matching Liam's enthusiasm.
"Hi, Paul," Connor said, sounding happier than usual.
"It's really good we can chat again," Liam said. "It's ages since the last one."
"I missed our chats, too."
"Thanks for the phone," Liam said. "David said it's a present from you, but we can only use it when he says."
"Or when Sarah says," David chipped in.
"Maybe you can think of it as a late birthday present for you and an early birthday present for Connor," I said.
"Yeah, thanks, Paul," the older brother said. A little grumpily, he added, "Did you know that it doesn't have many apps?"
"That's the sort of thing that David and Sarah have to decide," I said. "Remember, they're responsible for keeping you safe, so they have to decide what you can do and can't do. You wouldn't expect them to let you play with matches, would you?"
"You can't burn the house down with a phone," Connor jibed.
"I'm sure it's happened," I responded.
There was a brief silence, during which he was probably trying to decide whether or not I was joking. Whatever he'd concluded, he chose to change the subject.
"Are you at university now?" he asked. "Where is it? Is it a long way from here?"
"Yes, I'm at Barham University now. I'm not sure how far it is from you, but it's about a two-hour drive from home."
"What are you doing now?" Liam asked.
I laughed and said, "I'm talking to you."
"No, silly," Connor came to his little brother's rescue. "He meant this afternoon."
"I know," I said, "I was just teasing."
"Liam doesn't like being teased," Connor said in a very serious tone.
"Don't you ever tease him?"
"Yeah, sometimes," he grudgingly admitted, "but I'm his big brother, so he knows I don't mean it."
"Paul's my big brother, too," Liam said before I could respond, "so I know he doesn't mean it if he teases me a bit sometimes."
"Okay, I promise never to tease you if I think it might upset you," I said.
"You didn't answer my question," the younger boy accused.
"I just finished lunch, and after our chat I'll have to study, and then after that I'll probably go for a run along the river before I have something to eat and do some more studying before bed."
"That sounds boring," Connor declared emphatically.
"Yes, apart from the running, it is pretty boring."
"What did you have for lunch?" Liam asked.
"Pasta and meatballs in tomato sauce."
"Our lunch was better," the older boy said. "We had chicken and mash and gravy with peas and sweetcorn."
"Yeah, and we had apricot sponge and custard for afters," Liam added.
"Sounds yummy," I commented. "I'm jealous."
"And I helped Katie load the dishwasher," Liam said proudly.
"Who's Katie?" I asked.
"She's one of the other kids who live here," Connor said. "She's eleven."
"If David thinks it's okay, will you tell me who else lives there?'
"It's fine," David said.
"Well," Liam said, "there's David and Sarah who look after us, and there's me and Connor. And there's Katie and Mike and Baby Susie."
"Mike's the oldest. He's twelve." Connor said. Something about his tone made me feel that Mike was not one of Connor's favourite people.
"And Susie is almost three, so she's a toddler, not a baby," David chipped in.
There was a lengthening silence, so I asked one of the questions I'd prepared in advance just in case the conversation faltered.
"Do you two boys share a bedroom?"
"Yeah," the older boy said, "but they won't let us use the same bed. We have to use bunk beds."
"And we can't have a bath together," his little brother complained.
"I never shared a bath or bed with anyone when I was a boy," I said.
"Paul," David interjected, "maybe it would be a good idea if the two of us talked about that privately after the boys have finished chatting with you."
"Okay," I agreed.
"But we don't get spanked, though," Connor said, as if that might be a compensation for not being able to share a bed or bath.
"I've never been spanked," I said, assuming that the game I once played with Mai Li didn't count.
"Were you never naughty?" Liam asked in disbelief.
"Of course I was," I said, "but no one ever hit me."
"You were never punished for being bad?" Connor asked with a mixture of envy and incredulity.
"Sometimes doing bad things isn't the same as being a bad person," I said, remembering an earlier conversation with my godmother. "When I did bad things, I was punished."
"Punished how?" Connor asked.
"It depended on what I'd done and how old I was. Maybe I would have to stay in my room, or I could have toys taken away, or I couldn't go out with friends, or my allowance could be stopped for a while…"
"Allowance? What's that?" Liam asked.
"From age seven, I got one pound per week for every year of my age."
"What did you have to do to get all that money?" Connor asked.
"Nothing," I said, "as long as I didn't do anything too bad."
There was a brief silence while the boys seemed to consider the concept of getting an allowance.
"We don't have the pictures you sent on this phone," Liam complained.
"Okay, I'll send them to your phone."
"And can you send more? And I'll ask David to send more of us." Liam added, as if it would be some sort of trade.
"Of course I'd like to see more photos of my brothers, but I'd send you photos even if you don't send me any."
"Yay!" Liam replied. "Not just pictures of you but everything."
"Everything?" I asked.
"Yeah, like where you are now, and Grandma and Grandad, and where you live, and Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoff," he said. In a slightly accusing tone he added, "You said you'd send pictures of them, but you didn't."
"They're not our aunt and uncle," Connor pointed out to his little brother.
"I'm sure they'd love you to call them 'Aunt' and 'Uncle'. But just make sure that you don't call him 'Geoff'. He doesn't like that," I said. "I'm sorry I didn't send photos of them yet. I was waiting until you got your own phone. And I can't send photos of Gran's house until I go home after the exams. You'll probably have to remind me."
"You can send pictures of where you live now," Liam suggested.
"Okay," I agreed, wondering why he seemed so obsessed with photos.
"Sorry to have to break up your talk," David announced, "but I've got lots to do this afternoon. We can arrange another chat with Paul soon. Why don't you boys go and play in the garden?"
I heard what had become the usual chorus of 'Awwww' from the boys, then another chorus of 'Bye, Paul!'.
"They've gone now," David announced. "I thought it best to talk to you privately about some of the things they said. It appears that the two boys have shared a bed ever since Liam was a baby, and they always had baths together. So that's what they've always known.
"After losing their mother so suddenly, it's natural for them to find comfort in keeping the same routines," he continued, "but now that Connor is almost ten, sharing beds and baths isn't appropriate."
"Yes, I understand," I said. "How would you like to arrange my future calls with the boys? While they are at school and I'm at uni, maybe evenings or weekends are best?"
"Evenings are usually very busy for me and Sarah, so weekends, usually Sunday afternoons, are generally the only times we can be available. Hopefully, Child Services will allow direct calls soon, so you won't need me or Sarah to monitor. Until then, probably the best idea is for us to arrange the call by text before the actual phone call."
"That will work for me," I agreed, "and thanks for giving up your time to keep me in contact with my brothers."
"No need to thank me. It's a pleasure to be able to help with something that clearly makes the boys so happy. I've seen many children in care who either don't have family or don't have family who care about them. So thank you for being there for your brothers. "
Before getting back to my studies, I took a couple of photos of the flat and looked up more pictures on my laptop, then sent them to my brothers' phone. In the middle of the week, I got a text message from the boys' phone letting me know that Liam and Connor said thank you for the photos I sent and attaching some photos of them. The message ended with the name 'Sarah'.
Almost all the photos showed the boys standing close together, and a couple showed them with Liam holding on to Connor's hand. There were different locations, for example, in the garden, in front of their bunkbeds, and in what appeared to be an office. Their clothes were different in some photos, so I deduced that they were taken on at least two different days. Whenever Liam's eyes could be seen reasonably close-up, their unusual amber colour caught my attention.
In the previous photo they'd sent, even though Liam's smile had been wide and genuine, his mouth had been closed. However, in one of these new photos, his grin was so wide that I could see that there was a gap in one of his upper front teeth and two gaps in the lower front teeth. There also appeared to be a new tooth appearing in one of the lower gaps.
I guessed he was losing his baby teeth, and I wondered if he'd deliberately kept his mouth closed in other photos. I remembered that I'd felt embarrassed by the gaps when my front baby teeth had fallen out, even though it was also happening to my classmates. In any case, looking at that photo, I thought that the gaps made him look even more 'adorable', as Aunt Anne would say.
On the following Sunday afternoon, soon after the start of our next phone call, Liam asked me several questions about the layout of my student flat and where I'd taken the photos. The sort of questions he asked gave me the impression that he was trying to get a complete mental image of where I lived.
Then, in a very serious and almost concerned voice, he asked me what I thought of the photos they'd sent to me. Having read the articles recommended by Rose, I got the idea that maybe he had low self-esteem and was seeking some sort of validation. So I knew that I had to take care with my reply.
"I think that you both look great, and I'm proud to have you as my brothers. And Aunt Anne says you both look very handsome."
"Mum said that I looked better without my specs," Liam said.
Realising that we were entering a potential minefield and aware that Sarah was monitoring the chat, I knew that I needed to choose my words carefully.
"When it comes to appearances, different people have different opinions and preferences. My personal opinion is that you look equally good with or without your specs."
"Do you think that I look good, too?" Connor asked, almost as if he might be afraid of the answer.
"Of course!" I said. "You look like what you are, which is a very nice guy who is big and strong and protects his little brother. You looked especially good in the photo where you were smiling in the garden."
"But you look better," Liam said.
"No, I don't," I said definitively. "Like I said, different people have different preferences and opinions. Personally, I think that your eyes are much nicer than mine."
"In the photos of us holding hands," Connor said defensively, "it was Liam that wanted that."
"I think those photos were lovely and some of the best you sent."
"You don't think it's a bit soft, or sissy, or g-girly?" Connor asked. His stutter over the word 'girly' made me wonder if he had been thinking of a different word.
"Of course not," I said. "I wish I'd had a little brother or sister to hold hands with me. I'm a bit envious."
"Honest?" he asked dubiously.
"Yes," I said. "Look, we're family, aren't we?"
"Yes," Connor replied, and I could almost hear a frown in his voice.
"In my family with Grandma and Grandad, we agreed that we wouldn't lie to one another," I said, then went on to explain the details of Rule Two, finishing off with, "So if all three of us agree to accept that, it can apply to us."
"I agree!" Liam said enthusiastically.
"I'll think about it," Connor said cautiously. "You said secrets and being private is okay?"
"Yes, that's fine. Look, it can only work if all three of us are happy with the rule and agree to it without pressure. It's a personal thing just for us as a family, so if any of us don't really want it, then the rule doesn't exist."
"Okay, I'll think about it," Connor reiterated.
Suddenly, Liam completely changed the subject, though he'd probably been thinking about it for some time.
"Paul, do you drink? Booze?"
"Yes, sometimes. Why do you ask?"
"Well, someone said Mum died because she drank too much, and I don't want you to die."
"I don't drink much," I said reassuringly. "Most days I don't have any at all, and on days that I do have some, I don't get very drunk."
"So, will you not drink so much now?" Liam asked.
"I'll try my best."
"Maybe if we'd tried to stop her drinking so much, Mum would still be here," Connor said.
"When some people really want alcohol, there's no way that anyone can stop them. They have to really want to stop, and they have to ask for help," I pointed out.
"How do you know?" Connor challenged.
"Maybe if you don't believe me, you could ask your counsellor? They're experts and know much more about it than I do."
"How do you know about the counsellor?" Connor asked warily.
"Because I care about you and want the best for you, I was told about it, and I think that it's important that a professional person is available for you to talk to."
"So you don't think seeing a counsellor means we're looney?"
"Of course not. We all need someone to talk to about personal things. I've got Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey, and you have a counsellor."
"We have you, too, don't we?" Liam asked.
"Yes, you can always talk to me, but a counsellor knows a lot more than I do about lots of things, so they can help you more."
After a brief pause, during which I guessed that the boys were absorbing all we'd just discussed, I asked if it would be okay with them if I shared their photos with Aunt Anne and Uncle Geoffrey. Liam quickly agreed, but Connor said he'd prefer it if I didn't share the photos of them holding hands. Then the conversation went on to cover other things such as school, Liam's favourite garden plants, and other mundane things that thankfully had no potential minefields.
When Sarah said it was time to end the call, I asked for a couple of minutes of her time after the boys had left the room. When they'd gone, I pointed out that Liam, with his love of photos, was obviously into visual interactions. I added that it would really help me to interpret the boys' reactions if I could see the boys' faces when we spoke. Then I suggested that maybe I could video chat with my brothers if she and David agreed and could set it up.
Sarah said she'd discuss it with her husband and that if they agreed that it was okay, they would check with the boys to see if they wanted to do it. I thanked her, and she ended the call. Then I sent the newest photos of the boys to Aunt Anne, and just a few minutes later she phoned me.
"Thanks so much for the photos of the boys," she cooed. "They really are soooo adorable. Haven't you arranged to meet them yet?"
"It's top of my to-do list for when I finish my exams. But I may be able to have a video chat with them soon, so that could be the next best thing."
"Please tell them that I think they look very handsome and that one day it would be lovely to meet them in person."
"Okay, I'll pass that on," I agreed, amused by her enthusiasm.
We then chatted about other things, such as my studies, the fact that Uncle Geoffrey had a cold, and her usual admonition to make sure I was eating properly. Taking me by surprise, she also asked why I was still avoiding moving into the master bedroom.
"I'm not avoiding it," I said, bending the truth a little. "I just haven't got around to it yet. There's lots of stuff to move, and I'll need help moving the bed."
"Oh, Geoffrey can help with that," she replied without bothering to consult him. "And why not get a new bed?"
"I like the one I have. It's very comfy, it's less than three years old, and I only use it outside of term time."
"Okay, but you should have a new bed for your old room for when your brothers visit."
"Whoa! Slow down!" I exclaimed. "Child Services haven't even let me meet them in person yet, and who knows when, if ever, I'd be allowed to have them visit me? And who knows if they would even want to visit me?"
"Pish! Of course they'll want to visit their big brother and see where their mum grew up."
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