Date: Tue, 29 Apr 2003 23:22:41 +0100 From: Angela Mynah Subject: The Martyr to Ignorance The Martyr to Ignorance. A short story by Angela Mynah Angela_mynah@msn.com This story is dedicated to JustinCase 1956 - 2003. It was an honour and a privilege to have known him. This story refers to cross generational sex of a homosexual nature. If this story is illegal in your area or you are offended by such material, leave now. Whilst this story can be free standing, you will get far more of an understanding from it if you read `For the love of a Bigot' first. http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/for-the-love-of-a-bigot This story is fictional, however the issue that is raised in it, is not. This story deals with a very disturbing subject. However, it is meant to educate, enlighten and entertain rather than frighten the reader. Although descriptions are based on case history, care should be taken to remember that this is a fictional story. Take the time to read and reflect, for you could save a life." Finally I would also like to thank Charlie, the author of `Donny' for his assistance and support in the writing of this story. His research into this subject has saved me a great deal of time and effort. Without his help this story would never have been completed. http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/donny/ ***************************************************************** The Martyr to Ignorance. When you go to a funeral, the priest normally points out that it is not a time for sorrow, but a time for joy, and that the service is a celebration of a life lived, not the commiseration of a life ended. Technically that is true, However, when the coffin in front of you contains a child, it is so difficult to keep that theological point in mind. All you want to do is scream out "WHY?" Derek's Funeral had been a very sad affair. It had been attended by his grandmother and his sister. Also present were Andrew and his parents. Nobody else bothered to turn up to say goodbye to an eleven year old boy, who died, saving his friends life by pushing him out of the way of a drunken driver. Andrew had cried throughout the service, mourning the boy whom he had tormented because the child was homosexual. Mourning the boy who had said he loved him. Mourning the child who had saved his life. Yes. A child's funeral is the final chapter in a tragedy, but this child's funeral was a tragedy of the worst kind, it could have been avoided if the signs had been seen. It would never have happened if people had not just listened, but had heard. This was not Derek's funeral. Oh no, that had taken place five months ago. This was Andrew's funeral. The funeral of a boy so destroyed by the weight of guilt that he bore, that he took a razor to his bedroom, and wasn't found till the following morning, lying in a blood soaked bed, the arteries in both his wrist severed. The letter he had left was long and detailed. It was obvious to his parents and the police that not only had he been writing it over a number of days, but he had decided on this action about two weeks beforehand possibly much longer. The priest at the crematorium looked at the assembled company. He too was screaming out the question "Why?" but only to himself. His standing within the local community put him in an insidious position. He knew too much. He knew why Andrew had done it, He was asking himself "Why did he fail to stop it". He knew who had not done what, and how people had felt. That is often the way with those who hear confessions. And he had heard many recently, regarding both Andrew and Derek. There was nobody to blame and there was nobody dishing blame out. It was a list of errors and omissions which lead to this service, and the priest was wondering if lessons could be learned. He was also doubting his ability to be the teacher, he too had missed signs. He was also doubting his church. Not his faith in God, no, that was as rock solid as it had ever been. It was his faith in the people who say they do Gods willing that he was having trouble with. His bosses and the powers that be. The church authorities. They had taken a stance against homosexuality and little Derek had rather come out of the closet. The priest had so wanted the funeral to take place in the church, after all the boy had made the ultimate sacrifice, just as the priests beliefs told him another had done, some two thousand years before, but the authorities had blocked a church service so the local crematorium had to be the venue. When Andrew's funeral was organised, again the priest wanted a church service, but again no. `Thou shalt not kill' included ones self. Andrew was dead as a direct result of his having broken the sixth commandment. He too was therefore barred from having a church service. Such intolerance towards these two children was, in the priests eyes, an affront to the very God these people claimed to represent. Where was this `Forgiveness' they always spoke out about. The Priest stood at the pulpit looking down on the tearful congregation. He looked at the sermon he had written. It was all about how the evils of drink had taken the life of first boy, and now indirectly, the second. He looked back at the people. They all looked to him for explanations, answers, anything that they could cling to. He took his sermon and, in front of the mourners, slowly tore it up into little pieces. "Andrew deserves better than this. Andrew deserves a sermon from the heart, not one from notes rattled off in the comfort of my office. So I am going to `Wing it' here, as they say. Please bear with me should I falter. "This is a time to think. A time for reflection. Now is the time for each of us here to find out how we failed. Yes, we FAILED. Now I can hear you all asking ,`Surely with failure comes blame. We are responsible for our failures.' No my friends that is not so. "King Canute of England, Failed to stop the tide from turning. Was he to blame? Was he responsible for the tide. No my friends he was not. If a man sees a boulder falling towards him and puts his hand up to stop it, he will fail. Is that his fault? Is he to blame? No my friends he is not." He paused trying to see if his words were being heard rather than just echoing round the packed crematorium. He certainly seemed to have everybody's attention. "We, as a caring society, failed to see the torment of one of our own members. You all failed to see it and I failed to see it. I was reading recently that the signs are often there but one needs expert training to read them. We are not experts in that field. Please, ladies and gentlemen, no, brothers and sisters, do not hold yourselves responsible for that failure, but learn from it" The priest looked again at the faces and in particular he noticed Anton Schreider, the headmaster from Andrews's school. He was looking at the floor and gently shaking. He had seen the signs. He had listened to Andrew not four days after Derek's ashes had been scattered in the local garden of remembrance. He had been cross with Andrew and his display of self pity. "I don't know why you are crying boy" he had said, "everybody heard you shout at poor Derek, what was it now?, Oh yes I remember now, it was `Now fuck off out of my life Faggot, fuck off and die' I believe, yes that was it. Well son, your friend has done what you told him too, yet again, as he always did, so what are you complaining about?" Such harsh words to a sixteen year old. The headmaster sat in the crematorium pew and wished for all the world he could take those words back, but there it was. There was the coffin at the head of the chapel of rest, inside it was the body of a boy who had not been suffering a short dose of self pity, He had been racked with guilt, and the belief that everyone who knew him, hated him. The headmaster went over those words time and time again, knowing now that the lad had gone to him for help, and did he get it? No. Did he receive the support that he so desperately needed? No he did not. The establishment turned its back on him. The man who had represented the establishment that day, had cold shouldered Andrew totally. And it was he, Anton Schreider, who had been that representative. Mr. Schreider, permitted himself the luxury of some more tears. The priest continued with his impromptu sermon. "So for the basis of this sermon I will use a joke, Yes ladies and gentlemen, a joke. It was one that Andrew told me and just for the moment I think it rather relevant." "...So the lord said unto the crowd, `Let he who is without sin cast the first stone...Oh Mother! YOU had to be here didn't you?" "We all carry a lot of responsibility for the tragedy here before us, but that is not necessarily reason enough to carry the guilt of the outcome. Collectively we may have been able to avert this disaster, but then again possibly not. We do not have the learning. None of us here is qualified to throw that first stone, nor to have that stone cast toward us." It was odd that Ralph Leatherhood was crying. He was one who's intervention was the nearest to finding the truth, but cry he did. Although one of his more recent meetings with Andrew had been fiery to say the least, his last meeting with the boy was entirely different. He was the teacher who Andrew had caught taking sexual advantage of young Derek in the classroom when the boy was at his most vulnerable. He was the teacher who Andrew had tried to kick in the face. Then again he was also probably the last human to give Andrew a cuddle. Ralph was a boylover and he missed both Andrew and Derek terribly. Obviously the fact that he was a boylover was unknown to everybody. The only two who had ever found out were now both dead. It had been two weeks before Andrew finally took his own life that Ralph had seen the lad, sitting alone on the bench, apparently shunned by his peers, quietly sobbing to himself. He sat next to him and put his arm on the boys shoulder, pulling the lad to him. "It's ok to cry son, It was a great shock to us all and I can imagine how you must have felt when it happened" "I called him some horrible things. I did some horrible things to him too. He kept telling me he loved me. He even said it when his face was covered in my spit. He still said he loved me, even then, after all that. He didn't think I had heard it but I had." Andrew looked at the arm over his shoulder then looked at Ralph quizzically. Ralph responded instantly to the look. "There are times when two males can be touching without there being any sexual intention. Please believe that I feel for you as a lad with a lot on his mind that won't go away. My intentions towards you are purely as someone you can talk to, someone who's shoulder you can cry on. You mustn't hold your feelings in, it will do you no good at all" "Thanks Mr Leatherhood, I really don't mind about your arm now, not like I used to. I don't feel much about anything like I used to. I have made up my mind about one thing though, I will stop crying for Derek very soon now. May I ask you a personal question please sir?" "Of course you may Andrew, you may ask me anything you want and I will do my best to give as full an answer as I can. I will certainly be honest with you. What do you want to know?" "Do you believe in life after death? You know all those religious things. What do you believe has happened to Derek? Do you think I will ever see him again? If being homosexual is wicked and there a hell, yet love is good and there is a heaven, which one will win?" Ralph was stunned into silence for a moment. Was this a question or what! He looked into Andrew's hazel eyes, trying to read the thoughts behind them. There was no emotion left in them, all that had been drained out of the lad over the last few weeks. The soft crying that had been noticed by most people from time to time was the only time now that Andrew let any feelings show, and he was even hiding that as much as he could. All Ralph could see in those eyes, was that they were waiting for an answer. "I believe in the existence of an all powerful deity. Christians call it `God' other religions have other names for it. Buddha, Allah and there are many others. Small tribes who had not till recent years been in contact with other civilisations have all had these beliefs. That is why I consider it inevitable that some such a deity exists. I don't know what it likes to be called, and as far as the details about who should do what for it, well, they are the inventions of the men who tell us how to worship it. "There are some things that seem to run true with all or at least most forms of religion. Those include the existence of an after life and that good will triumph over evil. Lastly I believe that this deity is a forgiving one, as that theme also seems to run within all these different sects." Ralph looked at Andrew once more to see if his words were helping in any way. Much to his surprise Andrew was highly attentive, this was a great step forward as since Derek's funeral, Andrew seemed to have rather lost the ability to concentrate, such was the depth of his depression. Ralph went on, "It is my fundamental belief that if you are as good as you can be, and you are true to yourself, you are on the right tracks to please that deity. Also if you do `go wrong' and manage to put it right then that too pleases it. Lastly if you go wrong but there is no way of putting that wrong right, then prayer to the deity admitting your error and doing your best never to repeat it will lead that deity to forgive you. It is a simplistic view of religion but it has always worked for me" Ralph thought Andrew seemed satisfied with the answer as although it told him little about his meeting with Derek again, it gave him a route to salvation. Ralph was sure that this was all that the lad needed for now, the rest of the discussion could take place later when he was feeling a bit brighter. Only now, sitting in the crematorium did Ralph realise what Andrew was asking, even then, two weeks ago, sitting next to him the boy was planning to go to meet Derek. He had tried to tell his teacher and although his teacher had listened, he had not heard. What was it the boy said? "I will stop crying for Derek very soon now" Ralph could not believe he let that comment slip passed him. He did not know that the lad's long period of inattentiveness and his sudden change of attitude were things to watch for. Teacher training had never mentioned how a sudden interest in death and its consequences should have set him on his guard. He knew all that now, but it was all too late for the cold contents of the box in front of him. He prayed to that deity of his, promising to try to do better in future. He too permitted himself the luxury of shedding some more tears. The priest looked over the congregation. Almost nobody was looking at him now, most were looking at the floor with handkerchiefs to their eyes as he spoke softly about love and what goes wrong when it seems to be missing. This, the second young persons funeral in less than a year was about love every bit as much as the first, though this one was of a lad who felt unloved by all. Even though that was not the case, it was how the lad perceived it and that was enough. His eyes then fell upon Derek's sister and her grandmother. That they too seemed to be weeping slightly, was a pleasant surprise to the priest. It was more than they did at Derek's funeral. They had chatted throughout that one, paying no attention to his sermon and scant regard to the feelings of Andrew and his parents. It had been then that Andrew had realised that not only had Derek loved him but there had been nobody in the world who had loved Derek till the last few seconds of his pathetically short life. It was that realisation that had started the thinking process that would eventually seal Andrew's fate. No, those two were not chuckling and chatting now. It was as if for the first time, they were waking up to what was going on around them. It had been obvious that they had attended Derek's funeral as a matter of duty. Failure to do so would certainly have had them shunned by the neighbours, and that was never to be allowed. What they had not bargained on was that Andrew himself, would go round to their house to apologise for the boys death, for which he now held himself fully responsible. This was outside their thinking. He was offering himself to do any of the chores that Derek had done in the past, without any pay of course. This had amused Sarah, Derek's sister, who immediately told Andrew a list of jobs that Derek would have had to do after school and at the weekends, cutting the grass, washing up and vacuuming the house to name but three. One look at the lawn, which was well tended, followed by a far from close inspection of the mower, which was rusted up, showed Andrew that Derek never did that duty, no, but Andrew remembered seeing a gardener who used his own equipment working there. It was obvious to Andrew that these two females who had shown no love of Derek were just using this offer to `cut their bills' as much as their grass. This overt lack of affection from the only ones from whom Derek should have had a right to expect love, just caused Andrew to sink deeper into his depression and to within himself. He still decided to do as they bid as if to pay penance for his actions. Several of the congregation noticed the two women weeping for Andrew, and it was muttered about the room that this was too little, too late, and for the wrong boy. The priest heard this comment too and he was sure that the two women had heard it also. He was finding it difficult to disagree with their opinion. Of all the people there, it was certain that these two were the only ones whose own selfishness could be accredited with any of the blame. They had not listened let alone heard. They may have seen all the signs that existed but were too wrapped up within their own little world to worry about other people. They had tried to use Andrew's feelings of guilt unmercifully until Mr Davis found out what his son was doing for them and put a stop to it. He had been tempted to throw them out of the service but decided against that course of action, as the scene it would cause would take away from the dignity of the occasion. He saw them weep but only saw the real self pity that Andrew had been accused of wallowing in. That was the opinion held by all the people there of the two women, and the women knew it, and that's why they wept. The priest continued, "So what can we learn from this tragedy? Well we know that it is not sufficient just to love a person, sometimes that person needs reminding of that affection, and as in this case those reminders must be solid and sustained. When a person believes the world is against him, he needs proof positive that he is wrong and that he is loved" Andrew's father, Arthur Davis, had been trying so hard to maintain his composure, mainly to try to give Alice, his wife, the strength she needed to get through this day. Listening to the priest suggesting that Andrew had believed that he was not loved by anybody, including them, was too much. As with the breaking of any dam, it's not long after the cracks show that the walls break and the water flows. He remembered saying to Andrew the day that the lads venom had been liberally served to young Derek, "You be proud of this days work son, because I cannot be." Was that enough to make Andrew think he was no longer loved by his father? It couldn't be so, he remembered telling his son that he would always be loved. Just how much proof had Andrew wanted? Why had the boy not said anything? Pangs of guilt were starting and Arthur started to blame himself for the death of his only son. He had been told by several people, including the doctor, that it would be inevitable. Arthur would blame himself. He should not do so, but nobody had told him why. He thought back over the final days of his boy's life. How did he not see that something was so terribly wrong? Everything Andrew had been doing was different from his normal behaviour. Why had Arthur not seen this? Why had he not talked to his son? Where had he been when his son had needed him most? He knew that Alice was watching him, and now he was going to fail her too. As he looked at the casket so very close to them, that dam finally broke and so did Arthur. He shook with tears and grief as he openly wept. Arthur had been unaware that Alice too was blaming herself for this tragedy. She too had thought that she should have heard alarm bells at Andrew's behaviour. She too held herself responsible for piling on the agony to him. "For every tear Derek sheds, Andrew will shed ten" She remembered saying it as she and Arthur had tried to clean Derek's head of the word `Bigot'. It must have sounded to Andrew that Derek was the only loved one in that house. She thought of when she forced her own son to strip off in front of Derek, Arthur and herself, then ordered him to offer himself unreservedly to the homosexual boy. It was something that Andrew so obviously hated, she wondered if it really was the action of a loving parent. Was that the straw that broke the camels back? She had to keep telling herself that she did love her son. All these memories were on the negative side because of the nature of Andrew's death. She turned to look at her husband just as he broke down. Of course they love him. They both loved him like mad. They really should have told him more often whilst he was in his teens, that difficult age where everything is all or nothing. Through her tears she found herself confused. It had been three days before Andrew took his own life that, for no reason whatsoever, he walked through the kitchen, kissed her on the cheek and said "Love you" on his way to see some friend. She had called after him "Love you back" as he went. He had been carrying a package, she had no idea of its contents and had never asked. She wondered if it was important, but it was all rather too late now. Alice knew that Arthur had been trying to hold up for her sake, now she tried to hold up for his. Placed between them was a box of paper tissues, she passed Arthur some while he recomposed himself. The sermon was continuing but it had got to the stage where the congregation was unable to hear it. This was not owing to any background noise but the way in which each person there was remembering Andrew, wondering how it had all gone so painfully wrong. The priest halted for a moment. He had just heard another outburst of sorrow but could not place its originator for a moment. Yes there it was again, it was from the middle of the congregation this time. Several times he had paused his sermon, sometimes to think how it was going to run and a couple of times to let someone recover from an outburst of grief that this room was so full of. He heard it a third time, the stifled sob of somebody trying to control themselves, but this was different. He peered into the congregation and saw a boy not yet ten years old at a glance, at a funeral yet strangely, he was unaccompanied. He was sitting at the centre of the congregation hoping to go un-noticed but his emotions had got the better of him and his sobbing was heard by all. What was confusing everybody was that nobody else in the room had any idea who on earth he was. The priest paused for longer as Arthur went to the boy and knelt in front of him. "What's your name son?" Arthur asked "Peter" the lad replied "Where's your mum or your dad Peter, aren't they with you?" "No sir, Dad wanted Mum and me to come `cos he couldn't and my Mum wanted to, but she said she couldn't come either but she sent me to come instead" Taking a few moments to work out what he was being told Arthur asked, "You are more than welcome here but I don't understand. Who are your Mother and Father? Do we know them? Did they know Andrew?" The boy was at an awkward age. He was too young to be in control of his emotions, yet wanting to look older than his years. He wanted to appear too old to climb on Arthur's lap yet in reality that was exactly what he so wanted to do. "Andrew went to see my dad in prison three times since Dad ran over the other little boy. Andrew told him that it wasn't his fault and that it wasn't fair that my dad was in prison when it should have been him in prison and Dad said to Mum and me that we should be nice to him because he was frightened that Andrew would make himself into a tomato." There was confusion for a moment then a voice from somewhere in the congregation softly called out, almost chuckling "He means a `Martyr'. The boy's dad was worried that Andrew would make himself into a Martyr." For the first time that day there was a chuckle that rippled round the crematorium, the mood had lightened very slightly. It was a much needed release. The realisation was sinking in that this was the son of the driver who had been drinking in the bar on the beach The son of the man who killed poor Derek. A fact that Derek's Grandmother and sister latched on to. They approached the boy and Mr Davis in a flurry of righteous indignation. "Is the murderers son welcome here then? Because if he is, we shall leave" There was a stunned silence as a response at this new depth the grandmother had sunk to. Peter looked up at them. Not really comprehending the viciousness of the comment. Mr Davis however understood exactly what they were doing, trying to move the burden of guilt off their shoulders and onto the boys. His answer to them was wonderful in its understatement. "Goodbye" The congregation stared at the two women as they left, defeated by their own rouse. Attention was redirected to the boy Peter as Arthur Davis took him by the hand and led him to the front pew where his wife Alice was sitting. Peter, unable to carry his act of adulthood any more, climbed onto Arthur's lap and inserting his thumb firmly in his mouth watched as the priest approached him. Your father was frightened that Andrew would make a martyr of himself, Why? How did he know? "I don't know sir. He just said that he thought that he would" The priest, shaking his head, returned to the pulpit to continue with the service. He paused for seconds only, then looked at the young child on Arthur's lap. The priest nodded at the congregation. He knew where he was going now. "A Martyr. That is an excellent epitaph for Andrew, but a martyr to what. I will tell you what Andrew was a martyr to. He was a martyr to bigotry and he was a martyr to love. Most of all he was a martyr to our blindness, our stupidity and our lack of understanding and knowledge where it really mattered. Our inability to see the torment within this soul. Our helplessness when it came to really supporting such a desperately sad boy. "So let this be the lesson to us all. We must listen and we must hear. We must learn and we must know. We must sympathise and we must understand. Please, friends I beg of you, let there only ever be one `Andrew Davis. The Martyr to Ignorance.' Arthur looked about at all the nodding heads. `Yes, that would work' he thought. As he looked at Alice, his wife, he could see a level of relaxation in her demeanour. Yes it was working for her too. He unconsciously gave little Peter a hug. He had been the catalyst in all this, turning the funeral from a service of unmitigating gloom and despondency to one of hope and thoughts for the future. There was the slightest buzz in the air, with people wondering what they could do to stop a reoccurrence of this tragedy. He did not understand yet why but he knew He was going to have to find Peter's father and talk to him. This was a man who had met Andrew and had both listened and heard. But why had he not done anything about it? There had to be a reason, else why would he have sent his son there. These were questions to be answered later. As they sang the last hymn of the service the curtain was drawn across in front of Andrew's coffin and the guests said their final goodbye to the boy. Although tears were being shed freely, there was this new positive attitude. Never must this happen again. There was much to learn and they were determined to learn it. Somehow all this positive attitude had its epicentre on the young boy nestling in the arms of the bereaved parents, Arthur and Alice Davis. It was nearly a week before Arthur turned thoughts to actions and started to make enquiries about Peter's father. He had given the boy a lift home after the funeral but had let him out of the car some short walk from his house at Peter's request. It had not been hard to find the name of his father, or the results of his court case. Mr Gerald (Gerry) Rhodes had been found guilty of causing death by dangerous driving and of driving whilst unfit through drink or drugs. He was sentenced to two years for each offence, the sentences to run concurrently. He was being held at Greythorne low security open prison. His remorse was open and obvious and the knowledge of what he had done was a heavy burden that he would carry to his grave. He had not been entirely surprised to receive a letter from Arthur Davis, as he was aware that his young son had attended Andrew's funeral. It was still however going to be an awkward meeting. He sat in the waiting room wondering how punctual Mr Davis would be. Punctuality was one of those things that the inmates of a prison value, there not being much else to think about while they waited for their visitors. He was led to the table where a gaunt greying figure sat. Loosing his only son had prematurely aged Arthur leaving him looking drained, a look pretty well mirrored by Gerry Rhodes. Prison life was not suiting him at all. "How do you do. You must be Arthur Davis. I cannot say how sorry I was to hear about Andrew. I lost my other son the same way twelve years ago now. He was 16 as well." "You have lost a son through suicide too? I knew that there was something about you I had to find out. Young Peter's a credit to you and your wife, I look forward to meeting her. I have so many questions to ask you both" "Sadly I'm afraid that may be a little difficult. We are both alcoholics and have been since Steve took himself away from us. That's why Angie didn't make it to Andrew's funeral, I'm afraid she was very drunk. Peter is about the only thing holding us together, or at least he was the only thing until I met Andrew. It straightened me out just listening to him talk about the boy I killed. I had reckoned that there would be a few people out there who wanted to see me dead. All those who loved the kid. Then Andrew told me that he was the only person who had loved the boy and that had only been for a short while." Arthur wanted to know more about Steve's suicide but was not sure how to open the questioning. He decided to start by trying to be supportive of Gerry and if possible his wife and child. The important information he wanted was more likely to flow a little later but more freely he thought. "Yes Gerald, it was a tragic story. Look, is there anything I can do to help you or your wife while you are in here? If she is in that sort of state as an alcoholic there must be something I can do, and what about you, how do you go about being an alcoholic in here" "Well firstly Please call me Gerry, and yes, there are things you can do. One of the other guys in here is a psychiatrist. He will be getting out at about the same time as I will. He is working on a book about teen suicides and I am helping him. One of the things he intends to do is to go round to places where such a suicide has taken place, and lecture the people who live there about what to look for. He says where there has been one, more could follow, it's like the idea has been planted in other teenagers heads and they are hearing all the nice things being said about the one who has died." "Is there a risk that others in Andrew's school may be thinking that way then? Surely not, it's unthinkable." "That's why it's so dangerous, because people like yourself think such ideas are `unthinkable' just at a time when you should all be thinking of little else and looking for the signs." "I see what you mean, yes but what are the signs to look for? Our local priest was talking all about reading the signs but we don't know them" "I can give you a few that my friend has told me about, but you will have to remember that early warning signs are also the classic signs of clinical depression, a common fore-runner to a suicide attempt. "Difficulties in school and drug or alcohol abuse for a start, also tell your friends to look for sleep disturbance and eating disorders. Those are quite common too. Disinterest in usual activities, sports hobbies, that sort of thing. "Restlessness and agitation are also frequently missed changes in the boy's habits. He may well be suffering from feelings of failure, hopelessness and helplessness plus a tendency towards pessimistic moodiness. "He will very likely be overly self critical, have persistent physical complaints along with difficulty in concentrating. Lastly, and this is the one so many have said `why didn't I see that?' is that he will almost certainly have a preoccupation with death." Arthur was reeling from these points as one by one they described Andrew's character for the last weeks of his life. Gerry went on. "There are late warning signs that require immediate intervention in order to prevent the attempt. Some are obvious such as talk of suicide and neglect of appearance. Dropping out of activities and self isolation plus the feeling that life is meaningless and giving away favourite personal possessions should be watched out for as well, the lad will develop an attitude of `Well I won't need that where I am going'. "Probably the most dangerous and meaningful, and most ignored or unnoticed, is a sudden unexplained improvement in attitude and behaviour because it signals that the person has come to a decision to end the pain finally. Sadly only too often, this is thought to be the start of the `healing process' and is therefore handled most inappropriately. " Arthur sat there with his head in his hands. How on earth did he miss all of those? Everything Gerry had said was there, Arthur had been surprised to find that Andrew had given his play station away to some boy, but just thought it was part of the depression and that the boy would kick out of it if left alone. Now all the odd little things that Andrew had done were spelling out his morbid intention with neon lights. "Don't beat yourself up Arthur, you didn't know. I used to read stories on a web site called Nifty when I was at home. There was one called `Donny' that a gay friend pointed me to. I suggest you read it too, it covers this problem delicately and with great feeling." "Why, are you gay?" "Well I have my moments but I keep it very quiet in here. You don't have to be gay or bisexual to read the nifty stories, just open minded. Do you have any inclinations in that direction?" "To use your own words back, I have my moments, but I too am firmly closeted in that subject" It was the first time Arthur had told a living soul that he occasionally had bisexual feelings and it rather unnerved him. Looking at Gerry sitting there he tried for a temporary change of subject. "I asked you about your being an alcoholic, how does that work in here, surely there's no drink in here is there?" "No, well there is a bit if you talk to the right people but I am using this time to dry out and get some help. Its Angie who worries me, she is not a strong woman and although she said she would dry out too, there is always just one reason for a drink today and that she will give it up tomorrow. You know the sort of thing" Arthur nodded, he had been there with cigarettes many years ago so he knew well the difficulties of breaking an addiction. Although he said nothing to Gerry, Arthur decided he would visit Angie Rhodes and see if there was anything he could do to help her. He thought she may be struggling, having the problems of alcoholism along with a nine year old boy and her husband confined to prison, a little support would be, he hoped, gratefully received. As he drove away from the open prison his mind was overloaded with so many different questions. How was Mrs Rhodes coping? How did a nine year old boy weasel his way so deeply into Arthur's affections so quickly? As Gerry had been indirectly involved with Andrew's death, why did Arthur have this overwhelming desire to help the man and his family? He had answered none of those questions by the time he drove into his driveway and locked the car. After kissing his wife and giving her the detailed account of his meeting with Gerry, he settled down in front of his computer and logged on to the Nifty site. It took him a while to see the layout and to find the story `Donny' but having found it he found himself so absorbed in the story that it was two in the morning when he finally read the latest chapter, logged off and went to bed. A positive attitude is a wonderful thing to wake up to. Arthur had no idea why he felt as he did other than the tale he had read the previous night alongside the information he had been given from Gerry. Slowly in his mind he was sorting through the facts and the possibilities. Alice had noticed that he had woken up with a smile on his face, the first time in a long while, but knew him well enough not to ask why. She could see that he was thinking something through and knew that he would tell all when he had sorted it out in her mind. "Alice my sweets, I am going to visit Mrs Rhodes today, see how Peter is and see if there is anything we can do to help." "Who are you trying to help Darling, Peter, Gerry, Mrs Rhodes or yourself?" Alice always did have the knack of saying in a few words, something that Arthur would take hours over thinking about and still not know the answer. "I think perhaps I may be helping all of us. Add yourself into that list. Gerry is beside himself with worry about how Angie is coping. He is equally worried about Peter. We have lost our own boy but we seem to have found somebody else's who needs help. I don't know how this is all going to work and I am not sure we have the time for the luxury of sorting all the answers out. All I can offer as a fact is that for the first time since Andrew's death, I have been able to focus on something. I cannot believe that you will not benefit you in a similar way." "Ok ok, you go and see Mrs Rhodes. I have no problem with that. The only worry I have is that you may be jumping into a minefield which could be beyond your ability to get out of. You could bite off a lot more than you can chew here. What do you think you can do for her?" "Think of it this way Sweets, What can't we do? If she asks us to do something, to help, apart from large amounts of financial support, I can think of little we cannot do to assist" "I know you better than that Arthur. I know that you have something in mind. Are you going to tell me what it is?" "No, sorry I won't tell you what it is, because it is not quite clear in my own mind yet. When it is, if it ever is, I will tell you but till then I think I will just have to ask you to take me on trust." She looked into Arthur's eyes and allowed a small smile to cross her face. "Of course I will trust you darling, not just because I always do, but also I know what you are thinking of doing. Are there any small points in your mind you would like me to clarify for you?" Arthur grinned sheepishly, If Alice said she knew what he was thinking, then she not only did but was probably way ahead of him. They sat down and talked various ideas over. They made a few plans as seemed appropriate and worked out the preparations involved. Arthur was so relieved that his wonderful wife was fully behind him on this. Well both behind him and it would seem, in front of him. The front of the Rhodes' house was in need of a little care and attention but not too bad. The front garden was unexciting but it was reasonably maintained. He had been afraid that signs of neglect would be apparent but he was content that there were none. Mrs Rhodes answered the doorbell. It was ten thirty in the morning and Peter was at school. She looked into this strangers face trying to focus on it, or on anything else. She was slightly steadying herself against the door frame but was still swaying gently. The smell of gin was overpowering. "Sorry, who did you say you were? I didn't quite catch the name. I am a little hard of hearing these days." "My name is Arthur Davis. I am a friend of your husband. I went to visit him yesterday. I am, no sorry was, Andrew's father. Peter came to Andrew's funeral a while back. I wondered if you and I could have a little chat." Arthur gave Angie all these details slowly and clearly hoping that one or two might penetrate this shield of alcohol that she had built. "Oh you know Gerry, wonderful. Please do come in. Would you like a drink? Gin? Whiskey? Anything?" Arthur managed to stop himself saying that he wouldn't as it was a bit early for him, and managed a refusal on the grounds that he was driving. It was only when he saw Angie's eyes fill with tears that he realised that his excuse had been equally insensitive. It was drink driving that had removed her husband from her, albeit temporally. He watched as she swayed towards the sideboard and getting a highball glass put one ice cube in it and filled it up with gin. He decided to bite the bullet and go in a bit hard, maybe this was not the time for the gentle approach, he thought. "Gerry tells me you are thinking of giving up the drink, Are you?" "Oh its easy for him. Where he is there is no choice. If I try to stop its different. People keep coming round here and ... Well I have to be sociable don't I?" She sat heavily on the couch and looked around at the selection of empty glasses that surrounded her. "You wouldn't believe it but Peter cleared all these up yesterday. He is a treasure, I must... I really must... I have to try to..." She got no further before tears trickled down her face. "We, that is Gerry and I, have been living like this for twelve years now, and its not fair on Peter. Now Gerry isn't here I don't know what to do. I'm getting worse. Look at me. It's not yet eleven in the morning and I have just drunk a whole bottle of gin already. Yes a whole bottle and I am not even slurring my words yet. I won't even feel drunk till I finish my second bottle. I have Peter to look after but really it's he who is looking after me "I know I am an alcoholic but I don't want to sit in some church hall and tell everyone, and have them clap, anyway I doubt I could stay sober long enough to do that. I can't go out anyway because of Peter." "Suppose somebody looked after Peter for you for a while, while you went to a professional place for help. Would that make a difference? Suppose you could concentrate on just getting yourself out of this vicious circle you feel trapped in, do you think you could dry out then, if you went into a clinic?" She didn't answer that for a moment but looked at him eye to eye. Arthur could see immediately that she was looking to see if there was an ulterior motive for this offer. He had to admit to himself that he would have been even more worried had she not done so. As she drained her glass, still looking at him suspiciously she was actually sobering up, that perceived threat to her son was pumping adrenalin into her and waking her up to the predicament." "I have just worked out who the hell you are. You are the man whose son committed suicide because my husband killed his friend. Now you are trying to take my boy away from me." "I can understand your thinking like that, in a way I am glad you do. It shows me that you haven't totally addled your brain with gin, however you are wrong about why I am trying to do this and you are wrong about why my son took his own life. You should know that there is more to these things than meet the eye. You of all people. You may not realise this but I know why you started drinking twelve years ago. "If it had been my intention to take your son from you I would have done so. One letter to the social services would have led to a visit and you wouldn't have seen Peter for dust. That would have been quicker and easier for me. Yes, my wife and I are offering to take care of Peter for you, but when you have sorted yourself out, he can come back to you, no forms to fill, no bureaucratic red tape, just a simple arrangement between the five of us. At least think about it and discuss it with Gerry." As the two of them settled into an uneasy truce, they chatted for a while about the details of how such an arrangement might work with neither party making any major concessions or promises. They had not realised how long they had been talking when the front door opened and in walked Peter. The embarrassment on his face was obvious first looking at Arthur then his mother, trying to judge how drunk she was and how much Arthur had found out about her drinking. He went to his mother and sat on her lap. "Hello Peter, I have come round to see if your mummy needs any help while your daddy is away." Angie hugged her son, sitting him on her lap in such a way that gave Arthur the view up the inside of the leg of the boy's shorts. She warmed to a Arthur as soon as she saw that not only had he not looked in that direction , but he hadn't looked away either. It was plain that the man hadn't even noticed the aspect. That, she concluded, was certainly a good sign that Arthur was not after Peters body, the main cause of her concern. "Mr Davis is being very kind to us Peter, we are thinking of all sorts of things to make things easier here. Why don't you go and sit on his lap and say thank you to him" Peter kissed his mother and walked over to Arthur, climbing up on his lap and snuggled into it. He looked up and kissed Arthur on the cheek. "Thank you Uncle Arthur" Looking down, Arthur couldn't help but smile as he kissed the top of Peter's head. All this Angie was watching like a hawk. Arthur was passing all the tests she was putting him through with flying colours. She had reckoned that if Arthur was attracted to boys, he would try to hide it, and would not have returned Peters kiss. His reaction was as it should have been. She decided that she would, after all discuss the possibilities with her husband. "I have given you quite enough to think about for one day, but I do recommend you speak to your husband as soon as possible, for your sake as much as for anyone else's." Arthur picked up Peter and kissing him once more on the top of his head, he laid the boy gently back on his mothers lap. As he let himself out he called back saying that he was leaving his business card on the hall table, should she wish to contact him. As he drove home, thoughts were playing about in his mind. He started to recognise that it was natural for Angie to have considerable reservations about sending her son to a virtual stranger's house. He had rather acted the fool, and rushed in where angels would have feared to tread. At home, one look at Arthur's face told Alice that the day had not really gone as her husband would have liked and the conversation that evening confirmed what she had worried about, there was a lot of tact going to be needed here, more than her dear husband had ever been blessed with. The couple agreed that it would be a good idea if Arthur went to see Gerry and Alice would visit Angie. It was the first day of the school summer holidays and Alice, being a teacher, was now available to help. Sadly it also meant that Peter would be at home. This was unfortunate but unavoidable. They both knew that this was going to be a stressful time for the boy. How stressful? Well that was rather in the hands of Mr and Mrs Rhodes. Arthur was finding it difficult to drive, his concentration was failing him. All the way to Greythorne Prison he kept hearing Alice's words echoing around in his head "You will be tactful won't you dear" "Do be careful how you speak to him dear" "Don't sound condescending dear, now you do understand what I mean by condescending, don't you dear?" Arthur chuckled at that, it was one of Alice's favourite little jokes. Eventually the prison came into view, as prisons went it didn't look too bad. It was at least in a pleasant area and the building looked reasonable, The radio in Arthur's car was playing Tom Jones and The Green Green Grass of Home, It was little ironies like that which made his day, and as an author, he stored the incident for later use. He was escorted into the visiting area by one of the guards who was intent on striking up a conversation. "Rhodes told my colleague that you are the father of the nice young lad who used to visit him. He doesn't seem to come here any more, got tired of it I suppose. He was always a pleasure to bring through to the visiting room. Thoughtful boy I always thought. Good manners too. Rare things these days in a youngster, good manners and thoughtfulness. You must be very proud of him. He's certainly a credit to the way you've brought him up. I said to my mate, we will only see that one on this side of the table. There is no way that boy will serve time, too well behaved. Well I will get Rhodes, lovely talking with you, see you again some day" As Arthur sat down he decided not to embarrass the man by telling him what had happened or why, but then he realised that there was somebody else who had liked Andrew. It sent a warm feeling inside him, but with a tang of pain that Andrew would never know about the respect and liking others had for him, but that warm feeling... Maybe Andrew did know... now. He closed his eyes for a moment and said under his breath "It's my turn to try and help a youngun now Andrew, please help me say the right thing" He opened his eyes Gerry Rhodes was crossing the room towards him and he was not looking a happy man. "Praying were you Arthur? Praying that I had not had a phone call from Angie were you? Praying that she may forget to mention that you went round and tried to take Peter away from us, perhaps that was what you were praying for, well was it?" because if so, your prayers have not been answered. Such immediate venom took Arthur a bit by surprise, and he was silent, looking into Gerry's eyes and feeling the anger coming from them, when a voice from within said to him, `Fight fire with fire. He may be angry but you are there to help the boy foremost, then Angie and last on the list is this man who's raising his voice at you. Tell him straight' "Hmmm, well I was praying yes. Praying that you would listen to what I have to say. Praying that you had the sense to know we are trying to help you all, but most of all I was Praying that you were not so pig ignorant to see that your boy Peter is in quite some danger here. And you may well be right, it looks as though my prayers have indeed gone unanswered. "Shall I go now or shall we argue for a little longer, I have all the time in the world and so have you. But does Peter?" That voice had been right, the sharp return did unbalance Gerry who, on hearing Arthur throw Peters name back at him, cooled down quickly. He spoke to Arthur much more calmly now. "So what danger are you trying to tell me Peter's in. If you mean Angie's drinking, she would never lay a finger on the lad. Was that the problem?" "Yes and no. It is Angie's drinking that is the problem but I agree with you she would never hurt him. No the problem is worse that that. Have you any idea how much your wife is drinking at the moment?" "Well before I came in here and we were drinking together, I suppose we were getting through... I don't know, half a bottle, maybe up to three quarters of a bottle of spirit a day each, I know it was too much but now I am not drinking with her, she is probably on a bit less, just a little bit less maybe" "Oh shit. I hate to have to tell you this but your wife's drinking has spiralled up not down. She had completed her first bottle by eleven o'clock in the morning, and would have started her second had I not been there talking to her, she may be on as much as two or two and a half bottles a day now. This will kill her, then Peter will be without his mother permanently and his dad will be in prison. Do you think that this constitutes Peter being in danger?" "Sorry but I don't believe you. Simple as that. Angie phoned up yesterday, after you left, and told me about your visit. She sounded pretty good then, not sober but not slurring at all. Why should I believe what you are saying?" "No reason what so ever. You can insist I leave and then you will remain in total ignorance till you are released, or she dies, which ever happens first. I will go away out of your lives blameless having done my best for you all. There is another way though, I will leave here and report what I know to the social services. They will visit one day and make their own decision based on what they think, you will have no choice nor will your wife, the only thing there that would satisfy anybody is that I can come back here and gloat saying `I told you so' is that what you want? It's the easiest way for me to go." "You lousy bastard. You know I can't check on what you say without it being me who calls in the social services, and if you are right, then Peter gets taken into care, even if they think you may be right they might do that anyway. OK I will listen to what you have to say and I will think about it, but I warn you I do not give up without a fight, and even if I lose, I will not be in here for ever, you just remember that." Arthur leaned back in the chair closing his eyes in relief "At last" he muttered. He sat forwards to Gerry and explained that there were no plans made or anything like that. What he wanted to get across to both Angie and Gerry was the concept that there was help there if needed. There was no way that Angie could fight the alcohol at home, so the best arrangement would be for her to go to a clinic, sure in the knowledge that Peter was safe and sound. It would make sense also if when she left the clinic having dried out, that she lived with Arthur and Alice, till Gerry was back in circulation. "After that has happened then you move back in your house and back to normal. This would be the least worrying way of sorting this out for Peter" "Angie never said anything about her moving in with you to be with Peter." "Ahhh, that's rather my fault, I only just had that idea, but it sounds good to me." "Ok well as I said I will think about it, and will chat to Angie about the idea. I really am very sorry I was such an arsehole to you first thing." "I would have thought much less of you if you had not jumped in to protect your family. I just hope we can do something quickly, for everybody's sake. I had better tell you that while I have been talking to you here, my wife has been to see Angie. You will probably get another phone call tonight. I hope it will be less fraught than the last one" It was the same guard who escorted Arthur in, who led him out, but he was much much quieter. He hardly said a word as he tried to hide his red face, leading Arthur to the gate. As they got there he looked at Arthur, "I am so sorry, I had no idea, he was a wonderful boy" "Thanks, and yes, he was a wonderful boy." That warm glow was back with Arthur all the way home and was still with him when he opened the front door. OOOOOPH. Something pinkish with a blue pullover and short grey trousers had hurled itself at him, taking to the air no less than ten feet from him. As it made contact with him all four arms and six legs seemed to cling to him in the hug of death. Arthur knew that he had been attacked by one of two things, either a Martian warrior, or an Intercontinental Ballistic Peter. "Hello Uncle Arthur. Guess where we live now." That sorted it in Arthur's mind. No self respecting Martian would call him `Uncle'. Still being gripped by more arms and legs than any one child had a right to possess, Arthur struggled to his chair. Alice was sitting in hers pretending to read a book and trying to suppress a laugh. In the straightest voice she could muster she asked, "Nice day out dear? Did you do anything interesting and did you see your little friend in the camp?" "Very pleasant thank you love, yes I saw him and don't you think you may have something you may like to mention, perhaps about your day?" Peter had by now wriggled into Arthur's lap and with thumb in mouth was looking lovingly at the two grownups as they spoke to each other. Arthur was, almost as a reflex, cuddling the lad to him giving his head the occasional kiss. His nostrils full of that smell he never thought to smell again. Boy. "Things moved rather quickly today as I think you can tell. Somebody has reported Mrs Rhodes to the social services. I had been round there for nearly an hour and had talked Angie round to thinking more or less in our way when there was a knock at the door and in they came. Ready to take Peter with them if necessary" "What did you say to stop them, I thought that if they came to take then take they did" "Normally yes but not this time, there was a little doubt as to the validity of the complaint so they were prepared, but not obliged to do so. I had to think quickly so I said that I was round there to collect them both as they were moving into our house for some months. When they asked who the hell I was I said I was Angie's lesbian lover, that's the one thing they cannot check up on, and its so damned politically correct they will be frightened to do anything other than approve the situation." "Where is Angie now?" "She is having a little sleep. She has been chatting to the bottle for a lot of the morning. She has made an effort though. We didn't pack any bottles and I have made an appointment, at her request, to see a doctor tomorrow. Meanwhile she is in the spare room and Peter will be in Andrew's room. We pick up more of their things tomorrow and so forth. She phoned the prison but you had just left. Gerry seems happy about everything and that's about it really. Oh and Gerry wants to see you again tomorrow, I have been in touch with the prison and they have said its ok for you to take Peter. I think its better that he sees his dad than stays with his mother tomorrow, Angie agrees. Any questions?" "Errr, no I don't think so, errr what's for dinner?" "Well that is a T.R.E.A.T for S.O.M.E.B.O.D.Y. so we are having P.I.Z.Z.A." "YESSSSS Pizza I love pizza, I love pizza, we're having pizza" The blue eyed meteorite woke up and ran round the room in delight at hearing his favourite dish being spelled out, leaving Alice and Arthur remembering that codes got broken and had to be changed. Arthur winked at Alice and looked at young Peter, "Darf ich etwas fragen? Wie alt bist du?" (( may I ask you something, how old are you? )) "Ich bin neun Jahre alt" (( I am nine years old )) It looked as if Alice was about to wet herself she was laughing so much. It wasn't just that it sounded like Peter's German was better than Arthur's, the other flaw in Arthur's bright idea for a secret code was that Alice didn't speak a word of the language . "Don't even go there" Angie was standing in the doorway. "Gerry and I have given up with that, the damned Kid could spell Pizza by the time he was six, Ice cream earlier than that and all of the major burger outlets by eight years old. His German, Spanish and French are excellent for his age and the only way we ever manage to say things so he cannot understand is to talk in cryptic ways. He even cracks some of those. Don't you Button ! ! ?" No sooner had Angie sat down than `Button' was in her lap. Alice looked at her. Angie was too gaunt looking, her eyes were starting to sink into her scull and had the slightest yellow hue to them. All in all Alice thought the sooner the doctor saw her, the better. Alice was worried already. "Have you got a hangover Angie?" Alice asked. "No dear, sorry I am not there yet, I won't have one of those for a while. I am still rather under the influence and will be for a day or so. Alice dear, may I ask you a favour?" Angie indicated that she would rather Peter didn't hear what she was going to ask, so Arthur suggested to the boy that they unpacked his things in Andrew's bedroom. First they were going to have to pack Andrew's things away. This was a job that they had put off, but now it had to be done. They went into Andrew's room and for the first time Arthur realised what a massive debt he owed to his next door neighbours. They had been into the house and had taken out the old blood soaked bed. The carpet had been cleaned and all traces of blood had been removed. Andrew's personal belongings had been tidied but not removed, the same for his clothes. It was a short job to put everything in a case and store the case on top of the wardrobe. Peter had not been told the details of Andrew's death and was unaware of the history of the room. It seemed better that way, no possibility of nightmares or ghostly feelings. With Andrew's things packed and Peter's unpacked, the pair went down stairs, just as the Pizzas were delivered. Peter started to demolish the food in the way only a young boy can. Later Angie took the lad upstairs to give him a bath and get him into bed. It had been a long day for him, and tomorrow was going to be another. She was sure of that. "Arthur. You will be taking Peter to see his dad tomorrow. I will be with Angie at the doctors. She has asked me to be with her at all times tomorrow. She wants me to hear what the doctor says to her, partly because she is frightened that she will forget what she is told, and partly because she knows that if she gets desperate for a drink she will deny what he has said and will cheat and lie to get herself to a gin bottle. " She really is making an effort, and I know its already much harder on her than she is letting on. She feels terrible right now but knows that there isn't a bottle in the house. She helped me get rid of them when she first came round today." Arthur had no concerns about taking Peter to Greythorne Prison, it was a nice building and not overbearing at all. Alice had called the prison authorities and checked that young children were allowed to visit. She had been told that it was acceptable as long as it was done by prior arrangement. She had explained the situation as best she could and was told that under the circumstances, that would be alright. A room would be put aside for the visit. The prison visit went far better than the visit to the doctor. At the prison, both Arthur and Peter were thoroughly searched and were only let in the room after certain rules were explained to them, It was to be expected that Peter would want to cuddle his father, the lad was intimately searched for drugs, and was dressed in some overalls. Arthur had been present at the searching and whilst he felt uncomfortable with the discomfort and embarrassment that Peter had had to endure, understood the reasoning behind it. He also was checked out for drugs, something he also found to be rather uncomfortable and embarrassing. He too had to wear overalls instead of his clothes. The payoff for all this was that they would be allowed to be in the room with Gerry, unsupervised. The room was however wired for sound and he was warned that the conversation would be monitored. All these precautions were to let Gerry's son be as free to relate to his father as possible. In the end Arthur felt it was a small price to pay as for the entire visit, Peter was sitting in his dads lap, thumb installed in mouth and head cuddled up to his dads chest. Of the actual discussion in there, well a few things were sorted out but generally speaking Gerry was content with the arrangements, and was grateful for the part Arthur and Alice were playing. The trip to the doctor was going to change everything. That was a far from happy experience. Dr. Michael Denton was a very experienced doctor. He knew an alcoholic when he saw one and he knew he was looking at one now. Worse he knew what the results of the tests would show as soon as he saw the patient. "I am going to refer you to the Alexander Fleming hospital in town here, You need to stay in the Rossini ward. It's the de-tox ward and I am afraid I think you are going to be in there quite some time. I am glad you brought a friend with you. That has tended to make you keep your answers reasonably accurate. I have to say that drinking over two, nearly three bottles of Gin a day, for the last four months may well have taken a heavy toll. You will certainly never be able to drink alcohol again, without doing irreparable damage, I just hope that the damage has not already happened. I should get the results of the tests within a day or so, and I will see you again then." "When do I go in the clinic, the de-tox ward then?" "Now, straight from here. Its very simple Mrs Rhodes, either you go in now and give us a chance to help you or you do not go in and we can do nothing for you. We need to start working on you now. Mrs Davis can go home and collect all the things that you need. An ambulance will take you to the hospital from here. The receptionist has already called one for you." "Will you come with me Alice? I am not sure I can hang on to this on my own." "Of course I will. I will get your things from home, ours as well as yours, and will see you again soon, or do you want me to ride with you in the ambulance? I will if you like." "No I will be alright, I was just having a panic attack. Please get to me as soon as you can though, I feel rather, I don't know, frightened." The ambulance driver knocked on the consulting room door and as meek as any lamb, Angie walked with him to the vehicle and they drove off to the hospital. "You admitted her rather quickly, is it that bad?" Alice asked the doctor, "Mrs Davis, I hate telling people this but I'm afraid Mrs Rhodes has left it far too late. Unless I am very much mistaken she has done so much liver damage that I think it is already in the process of failing." "You mean she is dying? She cant be, she has nine year old boy to look after, he is staying with us, so is she." Alice quietened down and stared at the doctor realising that she was panicking at just the time she shouldn't. The question was in her mind. She knew she had to ask it but was scared to. She neither wanted to seem nosey nor did she want to appear without feelings. The doctor was looking at her, he had done this many times and knew what she was going through. He answered the as yet un-asked question. "She has about three weeks maybe two if she carries on drinking. She could carry on for four maybe five if she stops, but I doubt it. I would give three as my best guess. To be honest if I am right, and the tests confirm my suspicions, we shall send her home to be with her son and husband, he will almost certainly be released on compassionate grounds. I would expect the courts to impose a heavy fine to replace the custodial sentence under these circumstances." If Oscars could be given out for convincing performances, then Alice would have walked away from that hospital with arms full of them. When she dropped off all the things Angie was going to need, she was giving a performance of a lifetime. She had taken everything Angie would need for a six week stay. Lipsticks and other make-up. Several good books and a Sony walkman with some of Angie's favourite CDs. She was talking about what they would do for her in the future so fervently she almost convinced herself. The play remained being acted out right till Alice reached home. Although she had only known Angie for less than forty eight hours, Alice had to shed tears for the impending loss of her new friend. Further, she also knew that she was going to have to tell Arthur, worse somebody was going to have to tell Gerry. Peter could be protected from all this, he need be told nothing until it was absolutely necessary. When Arthur returned with Peter, from his trip to the prison he could tell at once that all was not well. When Peter started asking where `Mummy' was, Arthur could tell by Alice's replies that `not well' didn't cover the half of it. Just for once he read the situation and Alice's face and got it spot on. All he asked was one question. "How long?" Alice looked into his face and knew that he had worked it out. She said `three weeks' in such a way that Peter didn't latch on to what anybody was talking about. The conversation carried on in that way, a question and answer session that was so well disguised that Peter was totally unaware of the gravity of the situation. The boy had been fed at one of the propriety burger outlets and so was able to be taken, bathed and put to bed quite quickly. As Arthur was doing this he was thinking to himself that he may well have to get used to doing this, at least until Gerry was returned to the ranks of the free. With Peter asleep the two of them were able to make plans for the various options that would be open to them. It was another miserable night in the Davis household, and they knew it would get worse. The following day the test results had not come through but it was obvious to Alice that Angie had gone down hill, the yellow colouring was more pronounced. Treatment was started in earnest to try to stabilise Angie's condition and Dr Denton was called to attend. Even he was a little shaken by the speed with which Angie's body was failing, but failing it was and no longer were they talking in terms of weeks, it was days at best, possibly hours. A message was sent to Greythorne prison and Gerry was temporally released on compassionate grounds. He had only five hours with his wife before she left him. They did however achieve a lot in that time, Gerry's solicitor had attended and provision was made for Arthur and Alice to have custody of Peter until such time as Gerry was in a condition to take back those parental responsibilities. Various documents were signed and witnessed. Wills were re drawn and several other loose ends were tidied up. All in the space of five hours. That night he stayed with Arthur and Alice before being taken back to Greythorne the following morning. This left Arthur and Alice the job of comforting Peter. He had understood too much of the situation, he knew about death as he had befriended Andrew not long before he had died. He still didn't understand why his daddy had gone back to Greythorne, and it was a very tearful little boy who was being cuddled all day. He had it in his mind now that he had lost both his parents and it didn't matter how often Arthur and Alice told him that his dad would be back to stay soon, he was inconsolable. They had not long put Peter to bed when the telephone rang. Arthur answered it and was on the line for quite a while. When he returned to the living room he was pale. "To quote Shakespeare `When troubles come, they come not as single spies, but in battalions' I don't know whether to wake Peter or not." "What's the matter? What's happened now?" "Gerry is dead. He had a heart attack on the way home from here. From what the prison authorities have said, he was crying about Angie and suddenly he just went quiet. He complained about chest pains and the driver recognised the symptoms, he changed his route to get to the hospital but Gerry was pronounced dead on arrival. From his records it seems that this was his third heart attack in 2 years. Mostly put down to drinking of course and the fact he was over weight but Angie seems to have caused this one. Will you tell Peter or must I" "Oh no, the poor little mite, I will tell him but I will do it tomorrow. How much more is that poor lad going to have to take? Oh Arthur, what will happen to him now?" "Well I rather think that we are his legal guardians. We became that yesterday, until Gerry was fit to take to take care of him. Now that will be never, and I think you will find that we have young Peter here as our ward. I think I had better go and see our solicitor again. This needs sorting." Arthur went to the bureau and took out all the papers that Gerry had asked him to look after and sat down to have a long read. It didn't take quite as long as he thought it would, the paperwork was clear and simple. As the will had been written when Angie knew death was knocking at her door, it was taken that she was going to predecease him, the rest of the will was based on Peter being the only relative and that he would not die before Gerry. Gerry had kept his heart attacks in mind and was therefore fairly certain that Peter would out live him. There were certain allowances to be awarded to Peter's guardian should Gerry die before Peter was eighteen but these made no real impact on the Davis's finances. There was one other bequest. That was to the psychiatrist on completion of at least two seminars that he was to hold, on the subject of teen suicides. Arthur decided that he would have to visit this man, not just to tell him of the bequest but also to see if he could assist him in any way. All in all it was a simple set of documents and it meant that Peter would be looked after by Arthur and Alice indefinitely. It was a proposition that they already relished even though the circumstances that had lead up to it were so tragic. Arthur and Alice stood at the doorway to Peters bedroom, looking in at the angelic face of the sleeping child. Arthur pulled his wife to him "Four people have died to bring us our new son. Nothing more must ever hurt him again" They looked on at Peter, His hair and eyes were not that unlike Derek's had been, whilst the shape of his face was rather akin to Andrew's. Although they knew that nobody could ever replace Andrew, their love for this defenceless creature was growing stronger each passing second. Downstairs on the mantelpiece there were two photographs, one of course of Andrew, but also one of Derek. It seemed fitting that they should be there. Soon they would be joined by one of Peter. Epilogue. The Hubble telescope is a wonder of modern technology, seeing distant stars and galaxies for the first time. Not long ago two new stars were discovered, a binary pair. They are held together one orbiting the other held together by their own gravitational pull. The combination of burning gasses is such that the larger one glows with a soft green brown colour, a sort of Hazel, whilst the smaller has a distinctive blue colour to it, a fiery sapphire. The orbit of these stars seems a little erratic with as one scientist phrased it, the smaller star is apparently dancing round the larger more stable one. Behind them is an even larger one slowly following in the same orbit. That one emits a warm glow, a comforting light. Somewhere out in the depths of space a deity was looking at two souls in front of him. The first was rather smaller than the second, but its most notable feature was its fiery sapphire eyes, the other soul had the warmest of hazel eyes. "Do you know why you are before me small one? It is because you ask to stay with your friend. I have been told all about what you both did within your short stay on Earth, and it pleases me. Although you loved in a manner I had not intend man to love, you did so with all your heart so I will consider that. "And you, the larger one you are older and should have been wiser. The termination of your life was also in a manner I never intended man to do. But you did so out of remorse for your treatment of your young friend and sorrow for the love he never had. I will consider that also." The deity allowed itself a smile. The `punishment' for these two boys had been etched in the book of time from when time itself began. "The Universe is infinite. You two must look at every inch of it, travelling its length and breadth together, having each others love and company for eternity." Derek's excitement knew no bounds and he started dancing round his friend. Andrew smiled at him, knowing that Derek's eleven years of sadness were being paid for with an eternity of delighted happiness. The deity looked fondly at a new star, a star the deity knew well, asking him, Please, go with them and look after them. Just in case. ***************************************************************** That was `A Martyr to Ignorance' A short story by Angela Mynah angela_mynah@msn.com All comments welcome, even flamers. Its being ignored I can't stand. I answer all e-mails but will be unable to do so for the first two weeks of May. Please accept my apologies for this delay.