Screams of Thy Neighbour Read online

  The man rapped his knuckles on the office door and announced Edward’s appearance. A sheen of perspiration clung to his face and hairy, exposed arms. Damp patches darkened his pale-yellow shirt, as the odour of a pungent cologne wafted around Edward’s sinuses. Inside the cramped office, a woman greeted Edward and showed him to a seat in front of her desk, overflowing with files and computer hardware. She thanked her colleague and shut the door, returning to her side of the desk.

  “Please Edward, take a seat and this won’t take a minute.”

  “Yes it will,” Edward protested.

  “I want to have a chat about what you got up to on the weekend.”

  “What do you mean?” Edward asked, feigning ignorance.

  “You had a tantrum at your new foster parents’ house.”

  “They started it by not letting me watch TV,” he retorted.

  “You poured salt into their fishbowl.”

  “That’s a lie! I checked online, and the fish belong in the ocean, so I wanted to—”

  The woman – Rosie – implored him to use his indoor voice. “We believe you when you say it wasn’t intentional. But obviously you were unhappy there.”

  Edward did not refute this. He looked around the office, stuffy from a lack of ventilation. Bookshelves crammed with folders and reams of paperwork blocked the only window. Restless, he plucked at the fabric on his cushioned seat. He pierced a hole with his fingernails, waiting for his care worker to move on.

  “You’ve been with five foster families in as many months.”

  “I didn’t like any of them.”

  “You seem unhappy here as well though, Edward.”

  “You put me on the top floor even though my legs and arms always hurt.” He grimaced as the numb, aching feeling took hold of his limbs yet again. He cursed his forgetting to take painkillers before coming downstairs.

  “It’s not ideal, Edward,” Rosie acknowledged.

  “My window doesn’t open more than a few centimetres.”

  “That’s a safety feat—”

  “My bed’s lumpy and the toilet keeps getting blocked.”

  “These are things you’ve mentioned before and we are looking at—”

  “The TV only has five channels and the other kids here keep making fun of me.” He was interrupted by the din of dishes falling on the floor, and a torrent of rowdiness breaking out in the dining area.

  Rosie rubbed behind her ear. A long, awkward silence ensued.

  “We can look into those issues for you. Remember, you can tell me anything Edward.”

  The boy flicked back his fringe of black hair and scoffed.

  “How’s it going with your ‘talking time’?” she asked.

  “Huh?” Edward’s reply was instinctive, but realising what Rosie meant caused him to backtrack. “Oh, sorry, yeah it’s going fine. Really well.” He forced himself to smile, flashing his gleaming white teeth unconvincingly.

  His social worker stifled a chuckle and fixed him with eyes that expressed concern and exasperation. “You don’t think your therapist would tell me if you didn’t make it to sessions?”

  “I do. I mean…” he tried to find the right words, “there was that one time I forgot to go and see him because I was ill. And that other time when I had homework to finish, but I didn’t know how to cancel the appointment with him.”

  “You’re given time off school to meet her.”

  Edward’s stomach growled and he gave up the fight to prove his innocence. “I just don’t want to talk to anyone about it,” he muttered, eyes fixed on a dossier that had fallen off the desk.

  Rosie slowly reclined in her seat. She stared through Edward, with fingers interlocked beneath her chin, as though praying. She could have taken the form of any number of villains in cartoons he’d watched time and again in recent months.

  “With no close family able to look after you Edward, our job to find somewhere for you to live is difficult. But we have one more hope. One last shot at finding you a ‘forever home’.” She broke off, expecting Edward to interject.

  Nothing.

  “We know the kind of things that haven’t worked so well in other families, so this might now be our best chance to help you.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  Rosie separated her hands and threw a dismissive shrug. “If this doesn’t work, we really will have to get you a new TV.”

  “Don’t forget a new toilet,” Edward added. His stomach quaked again.

  Soon afterwards, Rosie allowed him to leave. He made for the kitchen and rummaged for what few scraps remained, to satiate himself before bed.

  III

  Edward sunk his hands deep into his pockets as he waited next to Rosie for the door to open. Boredom began to take hold of him.

  “Remember what we told you before coming over here,” she whispered to him.

  Edward’s impatience nearly got the better of him. He’d already been briefed to death by his case workers and he just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

  “Yes,” he responded with an exaggerated sigh. Who knows, maybe I’ll put up with this family for a whole week.

  He stood with Rosie and her large male colleague outside a respectable suburban bungalow. His pensive expression told a story of hope – that things should work out for him here – but of limited expectations too, based on recent, flawed attempts at foster family matchmaking.

  “Their names are Helen and Michael, and you are to be on your best behaviour with them. No interrupting, no running wild, and keep your fingers out of your—hello there!” The door had opened to reveal an older couple standing together, grinning broadly.

  “Good morning, you must be…? Yes, Rosie, lovely to meet you.” The woman then turned to the boy standing in front of her. “And you must be Edward then. Well aren’t you a handsome young man! Would you like to come in?”

  Edward did not reply. He stepped into the house cautiously, letting his entourage from social services toil away with holding a conversation. He remembered the sage advice from an older kid at his care home before coming over to visit. How first impressions are formed within seven seconds of seeing a new person or place.

  One. Two. Helen and Michael seemed nice. Their inviting smiles and complementary soft-knitted clothing charmed Edward. Beyond which, it was hard for him to muster any further compliment.

  Three. Four. Five. As he trod through the porch into the hallway, an enticing aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen ahead. He peered into the living room and saw a TV from the present century, playing a movie in high definition.

  Six. Seven. He opened another door leading off the hallway and was immediately drawn inside.

  “Edward, come on now. We have perfectly good toilet paper back home,” Rosie insisted. “Stop playing with Helen and Michael’s loo roll, please.”

  “But it’s so soft!”

  “Our little secret: three-ply paper. Nothing but the best for our household,” Helen said.

  “Keep your trousers hitched up and get off that toilet,” Rosie demanded.

  Even though Edward had been coaxed out of the bathroom at last, he remained distracted. “Can I see my room?” he pleaded.

  Before anyone could argue, he dashed towards a closed door leading away from the hall. Opening it and setting foot inside revealed a spacious, clean room that he could call his own. He scrutinised all details great and small: from the double bed and three-tiered bookshelf, to the games console and fully adjustable window.

  “We thought that you might like to not have to climb up stairs to get to your room, eh?” Rosie suggested.

  “There’s got to be a catch,” Edward said, to himself more than anyone else.

  “We all think you’ve just been unlucky with finding a perfect home recently.”

  Overwhelmed by this new experience, Edward heaved his shoulders up and down to encourage tears to build. The dams burst and he fell back against the door frame. Rosie and her colleague comfor
ted him, while Helen and Michael crouched down by his side.

  “We need something to put on those walls,” said Michael. “Perhaps you could choose what posters you hang up.” He was short and rotund in stature, like his wife. His pudgy cheeks and receding hairline contrasted with the more youthful figure visible in photographs dotted around the house.

  “Why don’t you come into the lounge with us,” added Helen. “I think we all need a mug of hot chocolate.”

  A little while later, Edward accompanied the adults into the lounge. He’d composed himself and already finished his drink and biscuits. As the older couple engaged him in small talk, he sat on his hands until he became struck by pins and needles. He continued to fidget, deflecting their questions without thinking.

  “When do I get to move in?” he asked, unprompted.

  “We want you to be happy living here, and living with Helen and Michael. Let’s get to know each other a little bit first, shall we?” Rosie’s colleague explained.

  “I like them, they’ve got nice jumpers,” Edward replied.

  “We can go shopping for new clothes if you need more,” Michael offered.

  Rosie chipped in before Edward could respond. “Once we’ve done our paperwork, you can spend a weekend with Helen and Michael. If everything works out brilliantly, you can move in time for the summer holidays. For good.”

  She smiled at the twelve-year old sitting on the armchair next to her. Automatically, Edward’s peachy face beamed, exposing dimples either side of his mouth.

  “Would you like to check out the garden, Edward?” asked Michael. “It's not much, but we have a shed that needs exploring if you’re up for it.”

  Edward did not need a second invitation to venture into the back garden. As the grown-ups sorted out the bureaucracy, he whiled away the afternoon constructing a makeshift den out of old camping gear. When it came time to leave, he had grown certain of one thing.

  I could get used to it here.

  IV

  A groggy head emerged from the undulating folds of its coveted duvet. Its ears adjusted to the familiar reverie of doors slamming and feet thudding on floorboards. It had become accustomed to this dawn chorus as children serenaded the neighbourhood with their unintelligible barking downstairs.

  Two arms then extended from beneath the sheets and flailed at the empty air. In trying to fully awaken himself, this boy wondered whether he’d rested enough. Somehow, he crunched his head on the bed frame, which went a long way to answering that question.

  Aromas of bacon and pancake batter drifted out of the kitchen to greet him, once he made it to the ground floor. A posse of expectant youngsters had stationed themselves strategically about the table.

  “Morning Edward. Sleep well?” asked the stocky support worker, without looking up from the hob. “Help yourself to some brekkie. Today’s a big day isn’t it?”

  Edward set foot into the dining area and noted the empty serving dishes already strewn across the table top. He rolled his eyes, able to savour the smells and nothing more.

  “Anyone for second helpings?” the man called out to the assembled young residents. He turned on the spot, lording the frying pan above the children who had gathered around. Like a desperate litter of piglets eager to suckle on the prized teats of their exhausted mother, their wild eyes fixated on the hallowed rashers as they landed on the tray.

  In one fell swoop, the dextrous digits of a half-dozen pairs of hands clutched at the strips of meat and withdrew with their winnings. That girl – who Edward assumed was smitten with him – picked up a piece, ran her tongue over its streaky surface, left it on the table and dashed off laughing. A taller boy barged past Edward with his ample share, flung a fist into his face and left the room too.

  Helpless, the runt of the litter looked on. Resigning himself to the contents of a half-opened cereal packet, he advanced but was stopped by Rosie storming in to address him.

  “Are you packed and ready Edward? Helen and Michael will be here any minute,” she squawked. “Why aren’t you changed?”

  Edward could not reply in time, for the girl had skipped back into the dining room.

  “Are ya ready Eddy, ready Eddy, ready Eddy? Eh, eh?” she teased, wiping her greasy mouth and succeeding only in smearing a thick oily residue over her face and arm.

  “Can’t I just—” Edward began. The cereal box was within reach.

  “I’ll tidy the cereal up Edward, you’ve already had enough breakfast. Go on and get dressed ready for Mr and Mrs Regis,” the ignorant male support worker interrupted.

  “Actually, I haven’t—” The doorbell chimed to quell Edward’s half-hearted complaint. A flustered Rosie hurried Edward to the stairs and waited for him to shuffle to his room.

  Even the benefit of several minutes’ head-start was not enough for Edward to complete his preparations. A knock on his bedroom door preceded Rosie announcing Michael’s presence on the landing.

  “Wait, hang on,” he exclaimed. He couldn’t help blushing at the dense cobwebs, dated carpet and grubby window. Not a picture of pride he could boast about to his potential new family.

  Michael poked his head into the room moments later, catching him off-guard. “Are you ready boy-o? Do you have all the things you need?” he asked.

  “I think so.” Voice croaking and eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep, he glanced at the small bags he’d spent so long trying to pack.

  Michael chuckled and the colour in the boy’s face grew a shade darker. “Last weekend it was like you’d brought everything with you for a two-day visit. Looks like you’ve under-packed a bit this time round!” He picked up a small holdall and led the way out of the bedroom. Edward’s stomach gargled in defiant protest. “You must be hungry there, Ed. Want to help me and Helen cook up some pancakes when we get back? Your choice of topping.”

  “Ah that’s kind of you but he’s just had pancakes and bacon downstairs. Isn’t that right Edward?” Rosie answered.

  Edward’s cheeks inflated with pent-up frustration. Before summoning a response, he halted on the staircase.

  “Hang on, I forgot something,” he remarked. He scrambled back and retrieved a dog-eared book from the floor next to his bed. Loose pages half fell out and the cover was so creased as to render it barely legible. He said nothing as he clasped his diary, hobbling behind his sympathetic new guardian.

  Outside, Helen rummaged in the boot of the idling car to allow for his belongings to fit.

  “Remember Edward, you’re going away for a whole week this time. Are you sure you have everything?” Rosie enquired.

  Edward shifted and bowed his head, reluctant to make eye contact.

  “Come now Rosie, don’t patronise the lad. He was a superstar last weekend. Besides, he knows what he’s getting himself into. Isn’t that right, Ed my man?”

  Edward raised his head to fix Michael’s gaze and they smiled.

  Rosie leaned in to address Edward and set the record straight. “Edward sweetie, you’ll be spending seven nights with Michael and Helen this time. If you like it and get along well together, we can work towards you moving in for good. How does all that sound?”

  Edward kept grinning and she went on. “Enjoy yourself but behave. Respect Mr and Mrs Regis and do what they tell you. If there’s any problems, you’ll be marched right back here. Do you understand?”

  She winked in Michael’s direction. He and the child – who had both overheard this – rolled their eyes in unison.

  “I’ll be checking in regularly to make sure everything is going well,” she continued. “If anything comes up, you both know how to get in touch. OK?”

  Edward nodded, waved briefly and jumped in the car. Michael had held the rear driver’s side door open, a gesture that Edward declined as he made his way to the left-hand side. It was the little things that brought back the most profound memories.

  Strapped in, he peered down at the scar running along much of his right arm. It trembled of its own volition, and Edward quiver
ed with it.

  “Are you alright Edward?” Helen stared at him anxiously. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “What’s the matter kiddo? You’re sweating buckets,” added her husband.

  Edward gulped with difficulty and struggled to rein in his runaway thoughts. They led him on a vicious cycle into despair.

  “Nothing is the matter. I juth’d bid my tongue,” he said, adding the lisp as an after-thought. Eager to move on, he gestured for them to drive off.

  “Would you like your painkillers, honey? Or your anti-nausea tablets? Michael, grab his meds from the boot.”

  “I didn’t put them there, you took them off Rosie.”

  “Never mind, never mind! Look at me, see? I’m fine now, let’s go,” insisted Edward, rocking back and forth in his seat – mainly to relieve the tension and the discomfort; in part, out of genuine anticipation of another exciting few days ahead.

  The so-called “care” facility, where Edward had called home for many months, vanished from view as they turned a corner. Good riddance sprang to Edward’s mind.

  Settling in for the journey, his nihilistic thoughts floated away, as he set his sights on the new sanctuary that he could call his own. For a short while, at any rate.

  ◆◆◆

  Seven days and nights sped by in an instant for Edward. His new guardians treated him to bike rides in the park, movie afternoons with access to their popcorn machine, a trip to watch the football and a visit to the town’s amusement arcade. Together, they fitted in an entire year’s worth of fun into less than a week. By the end, Edward lamented his stay drawing to a close.

  A calm mood prevailed over the three on the final evening of their week together. It would be tricky to imagine a more civilised picture of peaceful family life, than which played out in the Regis’ living room.

  “And that’s how you audit a year’s worth of tax receipts Ed.”

  Helen scoffed without diverting her attention from the soap opera on TV. “I said he doesn’t want to hear you talk about your work on a Saturday night.”