The Marshalls
by Kit
Chapter 2
That night, in addition to his concerns about John, Will was also thinking about what to do about his flat. Helen, who was from a well-off family, had wanted the flat because it was luxurious and in an excellent location. The rent was high, but while his girlfriend had been paying half, it had been easily affordable. However, with just his income, the financial situation would be difficult.
Finding and moving to a cheaper flat wouldn't be easy in the current market conditions, and as there was only one bedroom, it would be impossible to find a roommate. He considered how he might reduce his expenditure on other things, but he really didn't want to give up his car, not least because it made it easier for him to see John more often. By the time he eventually fell asleep, he still hadn't reached any conclusion.
The following morning, Rose called while Will was in a meeting and his phone was switched off, so it was almost an hour before he got her voicemail. When he explained the delay returning her call, she was very understanding, saying that she often found herself in the same situation.
"I spoke with John this morning," she said, "and he told me that you're an accountant. He's very proud of you."
"Actually, I'm the most junior person in the office, and I'm not fully qualified yet," he replied.
"He still won't change his story about being attacked outside the park. Did you manage to get any more information from him?"
"The only solid piece of information is that he didn't have his phone with him. It was broken, so he left it at home," Will replied, unable to bring himself to give further details. "But I got the feeling that your suspicions about Dad may be right."
"What did he say?"
"You may think this is a little crazy, but it wasn't what he said but what he didn't say and, erm, the way he didn't say it."
"I don't think it's crazy at all. You know your brother better than anyone else, and I'm sure that you share a lot of nonverbal communication," she replied. "Anyway, I've arranged to see your father at his house after he finishes work today, and tomorrow morning we should have enough information to make a final decision."
"Who's 'we', and what final decision?"
"The panel that decides if a child needs to be taken into care."
"He said he wants to come and live with me," he said, showing his concern. "He won't want to go into a foster home."
"I understand how you both may be feeling just now, but I really don't think that living with you would be possible, at least not in the short term," she replied sympathetically.
"But…"
"I know this is a very difficult time for you and John," she interrupted, "but this sort of discussion is much better done in person. May I come and visit you in your home tomorrow evening, as soon as you finish work?"
"It's a half hour drive," he pointed out, "wouldn't you prefer me to come to Meedford?"
"But that would mean our meeting would be even later in the evening. In any case, to be honest, it would be helpful to see where you live."
"Okay, I'll text you my address and see you there around five."
"Wonderful," she replied warmly, deciding not to mention that she already knew his address.
Immediately after hanging up, Will went to his supervisor and explained why he needed to leave work earlier than usual the following day. She said that would be okay, adding that his offer to make up the missed work time wasn't necessary. That night, he made sure that his flat was even more clean and tidy than usual.
Rose arrived at almost exactly five o'clock and accepted his offer of tea and biscuits. At her request, he showed her around the flat, which was in fact quite small, so most of it could be seen from the open-plan kitchen/living room. She sat on the sofa and studied her surroundings while he brought a tray with their tea. Then he sat on the modern-style chrome and white leather chair on the opposite side of the glass coffee table.
"This is a lovely flat," she commented, "and ideal for a single person or a couple in a relationship. Do you have a partner?"
He told her that he'd recently split up with his girlfriend, Helen, and that they'd been in a relationship for almost three years since meeting as undergraduates at university. However, they'd only lived together for about a year. Recently, she'd been offered a big promotion to go to work at her firm's London office, and Will acknowledged that she would have been a fool to turn down such an opportunity.
"You don't seem very upset about that," Rose observed, raising a questioning eyebrow.
His initial reaction was caution, and, reluctant to share more personal information, he considered changing the topic of conversation. However, she'd managed to gain his confidence, and in any case, he thought she was the sort of person better to have on his side.
"To be honest," he admitted, "we'd been drifting apart for a few months. The move to London was just a convenient way of splitting up, and maybe that's why we're still friends."
He decided that it wouldn't be relevant to tell Rose about one of the reasons he believed that he and Helen started drifting apart. His girlfriend wasn't comfortable with his teenage brother staying overnight so often, especially during school breaks when the visits were for a week or more.
"Didn't she want to take any of the furniture?"
"When she left, she gave her share to me. I think she was feeling a bit guilty about me having to start paying the rent on my own."
"You mentioned that John visits you quite often," she said. "Where does he sleep?"
"The sofa unfolds and becomes a bed."
"Okay," she acknowledged. Then, putting down her cup, she changed the subject. "As you know, I met with your father yesterday, and you're probably wondering how it went."
"I can imagine how it went," he replied ruefully.
"And your imagination is probably correct," she replied with a wry smile. "It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience. In short, he says he doesn't know how John was injured and that we shouldn't believe anything his son says. He also said that he'd be happy if the boy was taken into care."
Though he wasn't surprised that his father felt that way, Will was shocked that he'd expressed it so openly to the social worker.
"Given all of the evidence," she continued, "at the meeting this morning, it was decided that it would be unsafe to leave John in the custody of his father and that social services would in future be responsible for John's care. As your father has voluntarily agreed with that, the legal implementation will be very quick, and when your brother leaves hospital, he'll live in a foster home."
"But he wants to live with me, and I want him to be with me," Will protested.
"I appreciate that you two have a close bond, and we certainly don't want to do anything to harm that," she reassured him. "However, what's best for John, and what's actually practical, is more important than what either of you thinks you want just now."
"Isn't it best for him to be with family?" he asked, sounding a little petulant.
"It's certainly not best for him to be with his father," Rose said firmly. In a softer tone, she continued, "But as a general rule, it would certainly be a consideration. John has known you his whole life, you are an adult member of his family, and it's clear that the two of you have a strong bond. However, as things stand at the moment, there are several aspects that we believe override that. For example, we doubt that you are able to provide for your brother's current needs. Apart from many other considerations, a teenager needs their own bedroom."
"I can move and find a bigger flat."
"How long would it take to find a suitable place, and where would it be located? The closer you are to your work, the further he'll be from his school and his friends. Can you afford a furnished flat, or would you have enough money to buy furniture? Can you afford to feed and clothe a growing teenager and keep him entertained and out of mischief?"
"I'm sure I can work out something," Will replied weakly.
"I believe that you probably can work things out in the long term, but John's needs are immediate. Next year, he'll be doing important GCSE exams, and it won't be good for him to move to another school before then. But if he lives with you, it will be a long commute to his current school."
"I could drive him to school before I go to work, and he's old enough to come home on his own."
"You have a full-time job, so during school holidays, would John be home alone all day? Would you be able to spare the time to deal with the day-to-day things, such as interacting with his school?"
"Yes, I could do that."
"Your brother doesn't only need safety, he needs security and stability. You're just starting your career, so as well as your normal work, you may need to have days away, perhaps for training and assessment. And what if advancing that career means you need to move? You're single, so will you have a support network, for example, if you're ill or he's ill?"
"Support network?"
"A group of nearby people that you can ask for help, advice, or emotional support. For example, if you have to go to hospital or be away for work, what trustworthy and reliable person could you ask to step in and help? If you need advice on parenting or dealing with a teenager's problems, who could you ask? Who could you talk to if you feel a little overwhelmed or if you just need a morale boost?"
She paused and looked at him closely, observing his unhappy expression with great sympathy.
"Apart from the practical considerations," she continued, "I'm sure that you'll admit that you don't have the knowledge and skill required to deal with a troubled teenager."
"Troubled? He's just an ordinary kid," he protested.
"He grew up being psychologically and emotionally abused by his father, and you, his only other family and still a child yourself, were the only person who cared for him. You grew up with that situation and probably thought it was normal, and maybe even now you don't understand just how abnormal it was. Frankly, if the situation had been brought to the attention of social services, both of you would have been taken into care."
"But saying he's 'troubled' implies there's something wrong with him."
"Regardless of the negative effects of years of neglect and emotional abuse," she explained, "John suffered a sustained and vicious beating. No matter who did it, that will have a profound psychological effect that will last long after the physical damage is healed. Maybe he'll suffer from PTSD. In any case, he'll need counselling. Could you arrange that?"
"But a foster home?" Will said with a hint of unease.
"You sound as if it's like a Victorian workhouse," she said, shaking her head slightly. "The one that John will be living in is just a family home with better facilities than most. The foster carers there love children and are experienced in looking after troubled kids. They have space for three or four children, but two recently left, and currently they have only one foster child, who happens to be a boy who's about a year younger than John. He goes to the same school, so they may even know each other."
It was clear to Rose that Will still wasn't totally convinced by her arguments, so she decided to bring up another point.
"Everything I've heard indicates that John has never had a parent who cared for him. His only family were you and his grandmother, who died when he was just a small boy. In the foster home are two adults who will care for him like parents. And there will be foster siblings as well as you in his life. Now he has the opportunity to experience what it's like to be part of a real family."
"Still," he said doubtfully.
"Best of all, John's very lucky that the foster home is close to his school, so he can stay in the same classes and keep all his friends," she said. "Believe me, in all my years in this job, being able to find a home that requires almost no disruption is a great stroke of luck. If I were religious, I might even think it was a miracle."
"So there's not much I can do," Will said sadly, feeling useless, as if he'd somehow let his brother down.
"There's a great deal you can do," Rose replied encouragingly. "Apart from the practical things, such as getting his belongings from your dad's house, your very presence gives him a huge amount of emotional support. You can be part of his life even more than before, and now that your father isn't a psychological barrier, you can spend more time with him. A foster home is just that; it's a home, not a prison. I'm sure his carers will allow him to spend a few days staying with you when he doesn't have to be in school."
He frowned unhappily and still didn't seem convinced, so she continued, "The other thing to bear in mind is that this is just an assessment of the current situation, and it will be kept under constant review. By the time that your brother has taken his GCSEs, he will hopefully have recovered from the worst of the psychological trauma. Perhaps by then you will find new accommodation and your work situation will be more stable. Perhaps you will be able to build a support network."
"So I have to wait a year before I can really help him," Will said, sounding deflated and despondent.
"One thing that you can do immediately is to continue providing practical and emotional support. For example, you can help him through the transition by taking him to the foster home. In fact, you might like to visit the house with him before he moves in. That way, John will be able to pick up positive signals from you."
"Is that allowed?" he asked, a little surprised by the suggestion.
"Actually, the carers, David and Sarah, suggested it. I'll let you have their number so you can make arrangements."
"When John gets out of the hospital, he won't be going back to school immediately, will he?" Will asked after a few seconds' thought.
"No. The doctor said he should rest and recover for a week or so."
"Going straight from the hospital to the foster home feels like a bit of a sudden change. What if I took time off work and he spent a few days here in between the two? That would be a more gentle transition, and it'll give us a chance to have some private time in a familiar place."
Rose frowned in thought, and remained silent for so long that he was sure she was going to reject his idea.
"That's a possibility worth considering," she said eventually. "However, as of this afternoon, David and Sarah have parental responsibilities for John, so you'll have to ask them. If they agree, you should arrange the details with them."
She looked at her watch, and her eyebrows lifted slightly, indicating her surprise.
"Thank you for allowing me to visit you. I hope you found our little chat as useful as I did," she said, standing up. "By the way, when I last spoke with the police, I mentioned that John has an older brother, but I didn't give any details. Anyway, they said that they'd be grateful if you could contact them as soon as it's convenient."
After she left, Will quickly made himself a sandwich, and while he ate it, he decided that he had enough time to call the foster carers before setting off to the hospital. Sarah, who answered, said she'd need to discuss it with David and would call him back later. After only a few minutes, just as he was on his way to his car, she called him to say that his suggestion was acceptable.
"Have you been told yet when he'll be discharged?" she asked. "The last we heard is that it would probably be early on Friday afternoon."
"That's more detail than I got," he replied. "All I was told was that it may be on Friday. If it's going to be early in the afternoon, I can leave work at lunchtime to collect him and get his things from the house while Dad's at work."
"You can just take time off so easily?" she asked doubtfully.
"My supervisor knows the situation, and she's been very sympathetic so far, especially as it's not our busiest time of year. But if she won't let me take a couple of vacation days, I'll just take sick days. In any case, I'll have to be back at work on Wednesday afternoon, so if it's okay with you, I could bring John on Wednesday morning."
"That's fine. We were thinking that it might help if your brother had a chance to meet us and familiarise himself with the house before actually moving in."
"Yes, Rose mentioned something like that."
"So why don't you both come round for tea on Sunday? Our usual family tradition is a big Sunday lunch, but Mike, the boy we're currently fostering, is spending the weekend with friends and won't be back until teatime."
"That would be great. Thanks," he replied, impressed by how friendly and helpful she was being.
"Teatime is at six o'clock, so if you arrive around five, you'll have time to look around first. I'll send you the address."
Despite setting off immediately after hanging up, he arrived at the ward a little later than previously, mainly because he had some trouble finding a parking space. When he entered the ward, his brother was sitting up in bed and anxiously watching the doorway. However, as soon as he he saw Will, he looked relieved.
"You're late," the boy accused. "I thought you might not come."
"It's less than ten minutes since visiting time started," Will pointed out, "and you should know I'll always come for you."
"Yeah, I know, but it gets lonely and boring in here. There's nothing on TV, and the books and magazines are crap."
"You never complained about that before, but I think you seem more awake today."
"I'm feeling a lot better now, so they cut down on the painkillers. But they're still collecting my pee. It's embarrassing."
John was certainly looking better than the first time Will had visited him. The purple bruises were fading a little, and in the undamaged areas, the boy's golden skin had a healthy glow. There was no gauze covering the injured eye, and though the area was still very swollen, the eyelid could just about open. The deep brown eyes, slightly darker than his older brother's, were no longer dull.
"Anyway, they said I could leave after lunch on Friday," the boy continued, "but I don't know why I need to wait for lunch. The food's crap."
""I've no idea why it has to be after lunch," Will replied. "I guess they have a set schedule for doing things. Anyway, I'll come and pick you up."
"So can I come and live with you and don't have to go back and be with Dad?" the boy asked hopefully.
"You definitely don't have to be with Dad anymore, but hasn't Rose spoken to you about that?" Will asked, not relishing the prospect of having to tell his brother that they couldn't live together, at least not for the foreseeable future.
"No. I haven't seen her today, but she promised to visit me tomorrow morning."
Deciding to bite the bullet, Will gave his brother an account of the discussion he'd had with Rose.
"So you don't want me," the disappointed boy said miserably.
"Didn't you hear what I said?" Will asked, trying to hide his exasperation. Then, feeling guilty, in a gentle and soothing tone, he added, "Of course I want you, but you're now officially and legally in the care of social services. So they'll do whatever they think is best for you, and it doesn't matter what I want. Anyway, wherever you are, it'll be much easier for us to get together if Dad's not around."
"I'll be all on my own in a strange place," John said pathetically, deliberately trying to tug on his big brother's heartstrings.
"You'll be going to the same school and will be close to your friends," Will replied, knowing his brother well enough to detect that John was trying to manipulate his emotions. "Sarah seems very nice, and there's a boy there from your school. Mike, I think his name is."
"Mike with red hair?" the boy asked, sounding less unhappy.
"How would I know?" Will replied, smiling and shaking his head. "Do you have a friend who's a Mike with red hair?"
"No, not really," the boy replied, leaving his big brother feeling a little confused.
"Anyway, you'll get to see for yourself when we go for tea on Sunday."
"Sunday teatime," John said in a theatrical tone. "It all sounds very posh."
"Compared with having tea at Dad's house, I think anything would seem posh," Will commented wryly.
"Are you sure Dad won't be home on Friday afternoon?" the boy asked. "Have you talked to him?"
"I've not spoken to him in weeks. You know he always works on Fridays, and if he takes the day off, he'll be in the pub all afternoon."
"You said Rose talked to him yesterday. What did he tell her?"
"Just that he didn't know anything about what happened to you," Will said, omitting the fact that their father had been happy for John to be taken into care.
"Well, if you do talk to him, don't believe anything he says," the boy said.
"I don't see any reason to speak to him, and I've never believed anything he said since you were born."
The following morning, Will contacted the police and arranged to meet a detective who'd been assigned to John's case. She asked if he'd ever seen his father being violent toward John, and he told her that he hadn't. During the interview, he hadn't been able to give any information that might confirm or refute her suspicion that their father was responsible for John's injuries. The detective pointed out that unless John changed his story, there was nothing else they could do.
Mike had been in the care of social services for five years, and he accepted that he would remain so until he was eighteen. He realised that a boy of his age and temperament would never be adopted, and he pretended not to care. Still, he couldn't help feeling rejected when other kids in the house were adopted or returned to their families.
On that same afternoon that Rose went to Will's flat, Mike rode his bike from school to the foster home. It was now more than two months since Katie had returned to live with her mother and more than two weeks since Liam and Connor had gone to live with their brother, leaving Mike as the only foster kid in the house. The only other child living there was the four-year-old daughter of the two foster carers, and the teenage boy had little in common with her.
He wheeled his bike down the side of the house and put it in the garage, where he took off his helmet, revealing his short bright red hair. As he left the shadow of the garage and entered the garden, he was briefly dazzled by the bright afternoon sun. He raised his hand to provide shade for his pale blue eyes and proceeded toward the rear door of the house.
"Hi, Mike," Sarah greeted him as he entered the kitchen. "How was school?"
"Hi, Mike," Susie said as she popped her head out from under the large table.
Susie, recently turned four, was a miniature version of her dark-haired, fair-skinned mother. As soon as she'd been able to crawl, she'd decided that her favourite place to hide and to play with her toys was under the large kitchen table. Of course, as she always hid there, everyone knew where she'd be. However, the other members of the household humoured her and usually pretended to search around for her before looking under the table.
"Hi, Susie. Hi, Sarah. School was horrible," he replied. His Midlands accent was still discernible, though it had faded a little over the past couple of years. "School's always horrible, so I don't know why you always ask."
"Maybe one day you'll surprise me with a different answer," she replied, returning to preparing the salad.
She was pleased with Mike's progress since he'd come to live with them, and especially in the past year since he'd taken up running. From being bottom of his class in almost everything, he was now average or above average in all his subjects. One of the biggest improvements was that he now occasionally smiled and sometimes even seemed to be happy. When he'd first arrived, he'd appeared to be angry with almost everyone almost all of the time, but now he was just annoyed with some of the people some of the time.
"Is it okay if I chat with Connor before tea?" the boy asked Sarah.
"Are you missing him already?" she teased.
"Of course not!" he protested, silently admitting to himself that one of the boys he'd initially disliked so strongly was now his best friend.
"Well, never mind. On Friday, you'll be going to spend the whole weekend with him," she said, turning to look directly at him and noticing his slight frown. "Is something the matter?"
"No!" he retorted.
"I can understand if you might be a bit nervous," she said gently. "After all, this weekend will be the first time in years that you've spent the night outside of a foster home."
"I'm going to my room now," he replied, immediately turning away and leaving the kitchen.
"Okay, but remember no playing games until you've done your homework," she called after him.
An hour later, when they all sat down to eat, David made an announcement.
"Mike, I've got some good news. I was talking with Rose today, and we're going to be having someone new coming to live with us."
"So? Why is that good news?" the boy asked, intending to give the impression that he was completely indifferent.
Over the years, Mike's foster carers had grown to understand him quite well, and they knew that the boy was merely pretending not to care.
"Well, it will give you someone new to play video games with," the man replied.
"And someone to argue with about what to watch on TV," the boy pointed out archly.
"But it also means you have someone to share the chores with," Sarah said. "Actually, you may know him already. He's in the year above you at your school."
"What's his name?"
"John Marshall," David replied. "Do you know him?"
"Don't recognise the name," Mike said, frowning in thought.
"Maybe you'll recognise him when you see him," the man said. "He'll be moving in on Wednesday, but he and his brother will be coming for tea on Sunday, so you can get to meet both of them then."
"More brothers!" the boy muttered, rolling his eyes.
After tea, he decided to call Katie and see if she was available for a chat. No doubt she'd be interested in the impending arrival of a new foster kid, and maybe she could remember someone called John Marshall from their school.
Rose was at the hospital on Friday when John was discharged, and she accompanied the brothers to their father's house, where they were all relieved to find that there was no one at home. Will had a key, and fortunately their father hadn't changed the locks since his last visit. It didn't take long to gather together the boy's meagre possessions and put them into the car. Will had to do all the work because John couldn't even walk comfortably and still had considerable pain, especially in his lower back.
"What about the bike?" John asked, referring to the bicycle that had belonged to Will and that had been passed on to his little brother.
"It won't fit in the car," Will pointed out. After a pause for thought, he added, "When you're recovered enough to ride it, you can come and get it. Pick a time when Dad's out, and I'll come with you. I guess it should take less than half an hour to ride it to the foster home."
"Dad might sell it or smash it up," John said.
"If you still keep it under the tarpaulin in the backyard," the older brother replied, "he probably won't even notice it's there."
Having successfully completed their mission, Rose returned to her office, and the brothers went to Will's flat. After unloading the car, they relaxed in the living room, with John on the sofa, wriggling a little as he tried to find the least uncomfortable position to sit. Eventually, he ended up sprawling in a sort of diagonal across the seat.
"Do you fancy a snack?" Will asked. "I didn't manage to get any lunch and I'm starving."
"Yeah. How about a cheese toasty and soup? That was always my favourite when I was little and you made it for me after school."
"Good idea. Quick and easy and tasty," the older brother replied. He grinned and added, "I always remember when you were very small, maybe five or six, and you asked for 'entil soup'. You meant lentil, but I thought you said 'entrail', and when I explained what entrails were, it was months before you'd eat lentil soup again."
"Yeah, you traumatised me for life," John said with a rueful smile. "From then on, every time I think of lentils, I see a mental picture of intestines."
Over the previous few days, whenever Will had seen John's bruised and battered face, he'd felt angry with their father and sorrow for his little brother's suffering. There was also a feeling of guilt as he wondered if there might have been something more he could have done to protect John. While they sat at the table eating the snack, he looked again at John's face to see how well the injuries were healing and how much the bruises were fading.
He noticed that the fuzzy hair on John's upper lip was starting to get a little thicker and darker. It appeared that his brother hadn't started shaving yet, but that he might want to start soon. However, remembering his own embarrassment and other more complex feelings when he'd started shaving, Will wasn't sure how or if he should talk about it with John.
"Do you remember when I was about your age and started shaving?" Will eventually asked.
"Erm, no," John replied, blushing. "I mean, at some point I knew you were shaving, but I don't remember when you started."
"It wasn't something I'd have mentioned. I was a bit shy about it, and, well, when I started, I didn't want Dad to know that I was using his razor."
"Did he catch you?" the boy asked, horrified at the thought.
"He didn't actually catch me doing it, but he must have known because after I'd been using it for a few weeks, a new razor appeared in the bathroom on the shelf below his. So I guess he bought it for me when he discovered that I'd been using his."
"I bet that he wouldn't have done that for me," Joh commented with a bitter sadness.
"Anyway, I just wanted to say that when you feel you want to shave, just let me know, and I'll buy whatever you need. Personally, I prefer a wet shave with a razor, but I can get you an electric shaver if you prefer."
"Okay. Thanks, " John said, blushing. "Sometime, I'd like to try doing it like you do."
The following morning, John was slumped on the sofa and just staring blankly into space, and it was clear to Will that his little brother was feeling depressed.
"Do you want to go out somewhere?" he asked. "The weather's not great, but maybe we could find a nice place to have lunch."
"Nah, it's okay," the boy replied, "I'd rather stay in and rest."
"Well, is there anything that you'd like to do?"
"Well," John said after a long pause, "it's been a long time since we looked at Mum's photos together."
When John had been a toddler and able to understand enough of what his big brother said, Will had shown him the photos of their mother and told him as much as he could remember about her. Of course, he ensured that John knew that their father shouldn't find out about the photos, and even at that young age, John was able to understand that.
As soon as Will had been able to get a smartphone, he made a digital copy of the photos, and those copies were included with the phone that he'd given to his little brother. However, as John had pointed out, it had been a couple of years since they'd looked at the photos together while Will shared his memories. In fact, it had been so long since he'd talked about her that Will was no longer certain how accurate those memories might be.
"Can we look at the actual photos?" John asked as his brother reached for his phone. A little sheepishly, he added, "They seem more real than the ones on the phone."
Will smiled, nodded his understanding, and went to the bedroom to retrieve the box. Then they huddled together on the sofa and went through them slowly. A couple of the photos showed her with her family in the Philippines, and Will wondered why he felt a little homesick for a place that he'd never even visited.
"Say her name," John said, beginning a familiar ritual.
"You know her name," Will said gently and patiently as he followed the tradition. "I've told you lots of times."
"Yes, but I just like to hear you saying it."
"Maria."
By Sunday, apart from his back, arm, and ribs, most of John's pain had gone, though there were still some parts of his body, such as the damaged half of his face, that were tender and hurt when touched. Most of the bruising was faded to a greenish yellow, but it still made him feel self-conscious about being seen in public. Now that the bandages had been removed from his arm, the cuts, abrasions and deep bruising were visible, but at least they could be hidden under his shirt.
The drive to the foster home took about half an hour, during which there was little conversation. John was nervous about meeting the people who would effectively be in control of his life for the next few years. However, he was eager to see if the Mike that his brother had mentioned was the boy he'd been thinking of.
"Look, that's the park I used to take you to," Will said as they approached the address that he'd been given. "The house is near here, so you may be able to walk to school."
Will had gone to the same school that his younger brother now attended, and they both knew this area quite well. John, recognising where they were, was happy when he realised their father's house was a considerable distance away and on the opposite side of the school. He was very relieved to know that there was minimal risk of accidentally crossing paths with their father.
The foster home was a large semi-detached house which was separated from the street by a low redbrick wall behind which was a taller privet hedge. The short driveway divided into two, with one branch leading past the side of the house, where a black Honda Civic sedan was parked. The other branch went to a large tarmacked area at the front of the house, where a Ford minibus already stood.
When they rang the bell, the door was opened by Sarah, whose eyes widened slightly when she saw John's bruised and battered face. However, she made no comment and gave no other sign that she noticed anything unusual. Standing just behind her and clutching her black skirt was a little girl.
"Hello, and welcome," the woman greeted them with a warm smile. She stood back and opened the door wider. "Please come in."
They entered a bright and spacious hallway just as a man appeared from a doorway on the right. He looked a little flustered as he pushed back a few unruly locks of dark brown hair that had fallen into his eyes.
"Hi, I'm David," he said brightly. "I think Sarah mentioned that Mike's been spending the weekend with friends, but they'll all be here soon."
The little girl peered intently at the visitors and tugged on her mother's skirt.
"And this is Susie, our daughter," the woman said. "Susie, this is John and Will. John will be coming to join the family."
"Hi," the little girl greeted the brothers, apparently completely unfazed by the idea of a new person joining the household.
"Let's go through to the kitchen," Sarah suggested. "The hungry horde will be here soon."
She led the way down the hall, through a doorway on the right, and into the large and well-equipped kitchen. The pale yellow walls and the large windows made the room very light and airy, and it was very spacious even with the large rectangular varnished pine table in the centre of the room. The whole atmosphere was one of slightly rustic homeliness.
"I forgot to ask," Sarah said after the brothers declined the offer of drinks, "do either of you have any food allergies?"
"No," Will answered for both of them. Then after a brief pause, he continued hesitantly, "Erm, what did you mean when you mentioned a horde arriving?"
"I was just joking," she said and laughed. "But judging from their appetites, it might as well be a horde."
"It's just Mike and some friends," David explained. "Connor and Liam are brothers who used to live here, and they'll be coming with their older brother, Paul, and his friend, Stephane."
"It's a good thing you've got a big table," John observed with a nervous smile.
Sarah smiled and nodded. She knew that the brothers, and especially John, would be feeling uncomfortable in what to them was a strange new environment.
"David," she said to her husband, "things are progressing well here. Why don't you show John and Will around? Then you can come back and help with some finishing touches."
"Good idea," David acknowledged. Turning to the brothers he added, "Let's do the guided tour."
He led them out of the kitchen, and the first thing he pointed out was the door to the downstairs bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway to the front door, commenting that the adjacent door led out to the rear garden. Across the hallway from the kitchen was the large living room, which was furnished with two sofas, two armchairs, a couple of beanbag chairs, and a couple of small, low tables. There was also a reasonably large wall-mounted TV.
A door from the living room led to a much smaller room where there was a computer, a couple of consoles with a collection of video games, as well as shelves full of board games. David commented that some of the games could be noisy, so they'd had the room partially soundproofed. At the far end of the living room was a staircase, under which were shelves almost completely filled with books.
"Okay, that's the downstairs. Mike can give John a tour of the upstairs later," David said. "I'd better get back and give Sarah a hand with the food preparations. Feel free to explore the books and games, and then you can come and join us in the kitchen."
"This place is a bit like the Tardis," John whispered to his brother after David had left them. "Bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside."
"Well, it's certainly bigger than my flat and much nicer than Dad's house," Will replied. "Actually, I wish we'd lived here as kids, and I'm quite envious of you."
They were still looking through the contents of the games room when the 'horde' entered the house and, like a noisy torrent, flowed from the front door and down the hallway to the kitchen.
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