Broken: Part 2 of 3: A traumatised girl. Her troubled brother. Their shocking secret.. Rosie Lewis
‘You smell,’ he said in a contemptuous tone. ‘You smell just like her.’
I pulled my hand away slowly. ‘Like who?’ I asked, aware of my pulse beginning to race again. ‘Who do you mean, Archie?’
I hadn’t realised quite how much of a toll Archie’s outburst had taken until I got ready for bed that night. Entirely sapped, I abandoned an attempt at reading the paperback on my bedside table and dropped off to sleep almost as soon as I switched off the lamp. I woke in the small hours though, Archie’s words foremost in my mind. When he’d said that I smelled just like ‘her’, he had sounded so venomous and hateful, using a level of spite unusual in someone so young.
Refusing to engage any further, he had pivoted on his heel and lunged at the ladder of his bunk, throwing himself up onto his mattress and pulling the duvet over his head. I presumed that the smell he had found so repellent was alcohol. But what had he seen when he looked at me, I wondered. Had it been his mother, or was it possible that the ‘her’ he referred to related to someone else?
My heart lurched when I thought about how confused his feelings for his mother seemed to be. It put me in mind of something I’d read by the American writer Judith Viorst about a small boy who had been doused in alcohol and set on fire. Frightened and in pain, the boy cried for his mother from his hospital bed, even though it had been her who had set him alight. What stuck in my mind at the time of reading was that the boy wholeheartedly wanted his mother regardless of anything she had done and of the danger she represented. Or as Viorst put it, ‘Whether she hurts or hugs’.
By morning Archie’s mask was firmly back in place, so much so that it might have been easy to convince myself that last night’s fall-out was a figment of my imagination. ‘Good, thank you,’ he’d said, when I asked him how his night had been. Having washed and dressed without prompting, he sat at the breakfast table and lavished fuss on Mungo, who had taken a fair bit of coaxing out of his basket earlier that morning. Archie tensed when Jamie walked past him to the kitchen though, his eyes lowering sheepishly to the table.
‘See you,’ Jamie said a moment later, emerging from the kitchen with a banana in his hand. He was going into school early to practise for an inter-county football match that was taking place later that afternoon.
‘Bye, love, good luck,’ I said when he patted my shoulder.
‘Bye, Jamie,’ Archie said quietly. He brushed a few invisible crumbs from the table and straightened the placemats, keeping his eyes lowered.
‘Laters,’ Jamie said casually, with only the slightest hesitation. Archie looked up then, seemingly surprised at being forgiven so easily.
Bobbi came down a few minutes later, bleary-eyed but belting out a monstrous tune at the top of her voice. Still in her pyjamas, she threw her arms around me then leapt onto the chair next to Archie. ‘Rosie, can me and Meggie do some painting after school today? Can we, Rosie, can we?’
With a sudden jolt I realised that, for the first time since she’d arrived almost two weeks earlier, she hadn’t demanded food the moment she set eyes on me. It was an encouraging sign; she was beginning to trust that I would take care of her needs without reminders. ‘That sounds like a plan,’ I said, kissing the top of her head and straightening her glasses on my way to the kitchen.
She cheered and started singing again. I watched her as I poured milk into a large jug and carried bowls and spoons to the table, marvelling at Archie’s ability to switch off from her antics. Studiously examining the back of a cereal box, he barely glanced her way, even when she bumped into him and screamed in his ear.
‘In fine fettle again this morning, Bobbi?’ Emily said with a grin as she and Megan came in.
‘Isn’t she just?’ I said, giving Emily’s shoulder a squeeze as she took a seat at the table. ‘And you, madam,’ I said, squatting down in front of Megan and giving her tummy a tickle. ‘I thought I asked you to get your uniform on?’ Sporting a purple leotard and pink tutu, she grinned and performed a wobbly pirouette. ‘I suppose we can get ready after breakfast. In fact, girls, as you’re both full of beans, maybe you could help me serve the cereal this morning.’
‘Huh?’ Bobbi said, her eyes popping open in surprise.
‘It’s so good when we make it to school on time. I think if you help me we might be able to get there on time again today. What do you think?’
Bobbi frowned, her mouth falling open.
‘Oooh, I will, Mummy!’ Megan said, her hand up in the air as if in the classroom. ‘I’ll help!’
‘Great! Perhaps you could give everyone a bowl and spoon then, Meggie, and Bobbi, you can pour the milk.’
‘Huh?’ Bobbi said again, but she had already climbed off the chair and was looking at me expectantly. When everyone had chosen their cereal she moved between us, holding the jug of milk in a stately manner, her head tilted at a regal angle.
‘Thank you very much, girls,’ I said, adopting a tone of serious gratitude as they returned to their seats. They gave each other a comradely grin and tucked into the breakfast, oblivious to the look of amusement passing between Emily and me.
Miracle upon miracles, we made it to Millfield Primary with five minutes to spare before the bell, Bobbi and Archie both correctly attired, teeth brushed, hair in place. ‘Have a lovely day, Archie,’ I called out as he picked a path through the small groups of children standing between him and the school building. Despite the frozen air, Bobbi shrugged her coat off and swung it over her head, spinning around like a drowsy insect on a hot summer’s day.
As on other days, there was no interaction between Archie and the children he passed. He stole a surreptitious glance around the playground as he neared the entrance to his Year Five classroom, perhaps to see if there was anyone he might engage with. After a moment he dropped his rucksack on the ground, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
My heart lurched as Bobbi pressed her head against my stomach in one of her semi-aggressive hugs. I leaned over and patted her back absentmindedly, my eyes still settled on her brother. I made a mental note to speak to his teacher to see if she could suggest a likely pairing with someone else in his class, someone kind-hearted who might be willing to take him under their wing. I thought back to some of the kindnesses he had shown Megan since he’d arrived – he was a thoughtful soul and would make a nice friend for someone, I was sure of it. All he needed was a helpful nudge in the right direction.
I was so absorbed in my plans that I started when one of the mums, a woman with shiny black hair and a long face, tapped me lightly on the arm. We both laughed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I’ve been meaning to come and say hello. I’m Lisa, Rory’s mum.’
‘Oh, hi, Lisa.’ I realised that I sounded slightly vague, but neither of the children had mentioned Rory, or any other classmates for that matter. ‘Is Rory in Archie’s class?’ I began to wonder whether I might be able to make use of this mum’s friendliness to get some sort of playdate arranged.
‘Oh no, Rory’s in the year above. No, it’s just that I’ve spoken to his mum, Tanya, a few times and –’ she stopped, eyeing me speculatively. At the sound of her mother’s name, Bobbi stilled and looked at us over the top of her glasses. Her eyes narrowed. I looked at Lisa and waited, beginning to suspect that she was on a mission to unearth some gossip. It often happened when children came into care and remained at the same school. Most people respected the birth family’s right to privacy, but some simply couldn’t resist the urge to uncover the juicy details. A few more seconds passed and Lisa’s gaze began to waver. She glanced down at Bobbi and opened her mouth to speak, but then the bell rang.
Lisa raised her hand. A young boy, presumably Rory, gave her a quick wave in reply and headed off towards the opposite end of the building. I turned back to Lisa. ‘It’s just that we were wondering –’ she said in response to my raised eyebrows. She hesitated, her eyes flicking across the emptying playground to where a handful of mothers were standing by the main gate, watching us. She licked her lips and leaned in