Chapter 13
13
ISAAC
I spend all week learning how this school works and doing whatever its headmaster tells me. Not that Luke gives orders like some kind of drill sergeant. He starts conversations, then starts walking.
First he tours the library bookshelves with me, then he takes me through school hallways until I know each classroom. Next, we walk and talk through library design ideas while in the woods, discussing book selections all the way along the stream trickling through its middle. He walks me uphill to a pool bordered with boulders and downhill to a woodland clearing where he sits on a log throne while I sit on a tree stump listening to the story of his son and daughter’s refugee journey. Then he joins me in the back of my van where I find titles that he tells me they loved the next time we walk and talk together.
He only ever seems to ask questions I can answer.
I wish I could do the same for Len.
I can’t give him a straight answer about whether Joe will be back soon. “I don’t know” is more honest, so that’s what I tell him over the din of a whole school eating breakfast together.
Seven days into my trial role, I’m still not used to this communal living and eating, to sharing food family-style on mixed age-group tables that Ruth says will help Lenny settle.
He doesn’t need help, which he proves after I ask, “You want to decorate your new bedroom with me tonight?”
“I already got a bedroom.” It’s cool that he’s relaxed enough not to whisper and cute that he’s this indignant. “With Tor.”
I’d be offended that he isn’t in a hurry to share the new rooms Luke has allocated to us if it weren’t so good to see Len invested in starting and ending each day with one of his new besties. Even if he’s still silent around most of the other students, this shared table has become one of his safe places, so I take my time eating before the rest of the school can overwhelm him.
It’s like…
Old times.
If I squint, Ruth could be Mum at the head of the table joking with Teo, who helps her wrangle her houseful of boarding students and who must be around the same age I was when Mum had Lenny. It’s a noisy but friendly start to the morning. Familiar, which is helped by tablemates who I can’t help thinking have been hand-picked to help my brother feel at home here. Several speak the same south London language, each morning starting with wagwans of greeting and fist bumps that include my little brother, which means he comes close to speaking up more often, like now.
“When is Silver—” Len corrects himself. “When is Joe coming back?”
Teo can’t have crossed paths with Joe. He has no idea who Lenny mentions. “Silver who, bruv?”
Noah fills him in, using a term for the police that doesn’t belong in Cornwall. “That fed I told you about.”
I shake my head just as Lenny spots someone across the dining hall and asks to leave the table.
That’s new.
“Go ahead,” I tell him, keeping one eye on him as I address Noah. “I know you heard me explain how come I knew Joe.” Noah flushes, but if Joe stands a chance of helping him, he needs to believe this. Both Ruth and Luke have mentioned that being factual helps, no beating around the bush with Noah, so that’s what I aim for. “I wasn’t lying. Joe isn’t on the police force. He was Lenny’s support worker at school.”
“Supporting him with what?” Teo asks around a mouthful of toast.
I’d usually censor myself. I know I’m not alone in that since meeting other kids and carers with loved ones behind bars. Shame shuts mouths. Even ones belonging to the littlest of children.
They’re quick to soak up that prison is a dirty word. Learn fast how it stains everyone it touches. Time around this breakfast table means I guess these kids will know that. I still check Lenny is far away enough not to overhear me hanging out our family’s dirty laundry.
“Joe supported Lenny at school after our mum was arrested. It was rough when she didn’t get bailed. Even rougher with her still on remand. Not sure how Lenny would have got through those early days without Joe to talk to. He helped him from the day our front door got kicked in by the actual police.” I can’t help growling, “She didn’t have anything to do with what they found hidden under the cabinets in our kitchen.”
Noah mouths a single word as if Lenny isn’t the only one who can be voiceless.
Drugs?
I nod, and he gets verbal. “But she knew who brought them into your place?”
I nod again, and he fires back another question.
“She tell the feds who?”
I shake my head about the silence she won’t break. And yeah, Noah understands how things work where we’re from. I hear it in him quietly stating, “Whoever it was threatened her into keeping her mouth shut.” That isn’t a question. Neither is this. “No. She’s scared something will happen to you two if she talks.”
That’s what Mum won’t tell me.
These kids are a reminder of why she keeps her lips zipped. Teo sucks his teeth sharply, and Noah sighs a single word that confirms he needs Joe even if he doesn’t know it. “Same.”
He looks away, and my gaze follows the same direction to find my brother sitting with someone I once found scary. Luke butters toast while Len supervises. That’s what I watch for the next few minutes—them not talking but having a whole conversation.
Luke raises his eyebrows while tapping the tops of jam pots as if asking which is his favourite, and that’s a lot to deal with. So is him tilting his head at cartons until Len points to the one holding apple juice instead of orange. And when Lenny clinks his full glass with Luke’s and I get to hear him say, “Cheers” aloud, it’s as if I dreamed his silence.
Luke’s eyes meet mine across the dining hall. He winks while saying cheers back to Lenny, then gets on with drinking minus any fanfare, helping Len to get verbal with zero pressure, so I try my best to return the favour by turning back to Noah.
“Worrying about keeping other people safe is hard to handle alone. Not saying Joe can solve anything.” I’m increasingly convinced my mother is gonna bite her tongue straight into a life sentence. “But he’s been there. Understands and listens.”
Noah asks a quiet question. “You know how risky it is for you to hang around a drug squad fed, yeah?” He leans forward. “Even an undercover one.”
“Joe isn’t undercover. He really is a support worker. Was. You know what he does now?” Noah’s eyes narrow again, but he nods. His flush clashes brightly with his hair, and I’m glad then that I pressed Send on photos of Lenny enjoying what has felt like a first week of freedom. It means Joe has sent me ones of his own.
My phone is full of his day-to-day life. I scroll past photos of him petting a cat outside a Tube station and of him wearing a cappuccino milky moustache that Lenny laughed over. My screen fills with the view from his living room window with Wintergreen’s distant tower blocks visible between tall, thin trees, then I stop on a shot featuring two people.
“Look. Yes, his brother works alongside law enforcement in some kind of computer role. But he does back-office stuff, not front-line policing. He’s a civilian like Joe. They both grew up in Wintergreen though. If you think you’ve seen him around, maybe that’s why.” I take a guess. “Did you have to give a statement at a station?”
Noah nods, paling again.
“He could have been there, I dunno, working on a computer. Look.” I show him the latest photo Joe has sent complete with the note underneath it.
Joe: Hey, Lenny. Guess which one of us is two minutes older!
I don’t have to guess. Neither does Noah. “Ah.” He almost touches the side of the screen showing a version of Joe who might as well be years older instead of only minutes. It’s the frown, I think, and fuck holding back, I let this spill across our shared breakfast table.
“Joe’s a good guy.” He always was. “If Lenny trusts him, you can too.” It’s so hard to remember the rage I told myself to feel whenever I thought about Joe and missed him. Now all I remember is him helping me to do so much more than catch my breath in a bathroom. That makes it easy to return this favour after Joe vouched for me without question. “If you do decide to speak with him but want someone there with you who isn’t family, I got you.”
“You’d do that?”
I offer a fist, and across this dining hall, my new boss, who has encouraged my brother to find his voice, watches Noah make his own inchworm progress.
Noah avoids meeting my eyes, but he bumps my fist.
“I’ll think about it.”
Noah must think fast.
It isn’t long until I get a message that I retreat to a hidden corner of the library to read in private.
Joe: Looks like I’ll be heading back down to Cornwall sooner than I thought.
Joe: Seeing Noah at his brother’s place tomorrow. Just a flying visit, but would that be good news for you or bad?
I don’t like that he has to wonder. It’s the best news, in my opinion. Another message arrives before I can say so.
Joe: Because if it is good news, I could leave early and be on the 7pm train tonight.
Joe: That is, if you wanted to meet this evening?
Do I ever.
There’s no way my new boss doesn’t notice my grin. I jump when Luke speaks.
“I thought I’d pop down to run an idea past you, but that smile makes me wonder if the news has already reached you.” He nods at the phone in my hand as the bell rings for the lunch break. I lip-read him asking, “Joe?” but I don’t quite know how to read his expression. That shouldn’t be this hard after a week of walking and talking with him. Now Luke stands still and silent beside some new artwork I’ve added, and I can’t read him.
He has his back to a drawing I know is labelled with the word happy because I watched Lenny print each letter. My new boss isn’t quite that. Worry fits him better, which his careful tone confirms. “How do you feel about Joe coming back so soon?”
“How do I feel about Joe?” That seems like a loaded question. And yes, worry was a good guess—Luke doesn’t hide his from me.
“I wanted to check in with you because I have a couple of concerns.”
About me?
Shit. I thought this trial was going okay.
He holds open the library door. “Walk and talk with me?” We get as far as the front door, where mosaic tile makes a promise that Luke suggests might not apply to Joe. “He’s returning briefly on court business, but that isn’t what I’m in two minds about. I’m more concerned about a proposal he’s suggested that might benefit more of our students.”
I’m surprised into stopping.
Luke does too within sight of children letting off steam in the playground, and from the vantage point of these few steps above them, I can see the one person I do need to guarantee a prolonged welcome.
Lenny sits at a bench covered in upturned pots and pans, bashing away with a set of drumsticks, and him making plenty of noise is what Luke brings up next. “Your brother is finding ways to be heard, even without speaking.”
I nod. “I can’t believe how fast he’s coming out of his shell.”
“There’s no hurry when it comes to anxiety disorders like selective mutism.” Luke says that as if Len’s stay here isn’t dependent on my performance. “Recovery from adverse childhood events take time, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Because each recovery comes with high and low points.”
Lenny clinking his glass against Luke’s this morning was a heart-swelling high point.
Luke mentions another example that sends my heart sinking.
“Isaac, you’ve been everything for him since your mother’s arrest. Carried a load not many people could manage without folding or complaining.”
I would have done both if I hadn’t been too busy treading water.
Luke mentions Joe as if worried that he might actually sink me. “I’d hate to create another low point for you, so I have something for you to consider when Joe returns to see Noah.” Luke watches his students instead of me, doing the same, I realise, as he did with my brother over the breakfast table. Like then, he gives me space by not scrutinising my reactions. Even his prompt is gentle. “If you were planning on seeing him, that is.”
“He asked. I haven’t answered yet.”
I want to see Joe so much my phone burns a red-hot hole in my pocket, but I’m still wary of appearing to put anything but my work here first.
“I haven’t finished reorganising the library. That’s my number one priority.”
Luke still stares across the playground, still doesn’t look at me. “I hope you remember that it isn’t you on trial here. The concept of a librarian-storyteller is. We’re trialling that workload to decide if it should stay as two jobs or become one. That’s also why I wanted to check in. Because the email I got this morning could lead to Joe staying with us. Not tonight. He’ll visit Noah at home this weekend, so no need for him to come here.” He glances my way briefly. “I don’t have a problem with him returning here another time, per se. It’s the time span his email suggested that might be an issue, because he’d be with us for weeks. Maybe even longer.”
A drumbeat quickens even though Lenny has left his sticks behind to go play in a sandpit. “And he’d stay here?” Luke must see my surprise in the periphery of his vision.
“I won’t steal any more of Joe’s thunder but yes, potentially.” A frown flickers. “He’s come up with an offer that I would have agreed to like a shot if I hadn’t heard your story. That means I can’t discuss a full proposal with him until I consider that past trauma.”
I can’t focus on what might be in that proposal. A different word sticks in my throat, a hook that tugs me even closer. “Trauma?”
“Yes.” Luke must have spotted Lenny, who helps Maisie cross a plank bridge. His stern features soften. “That’s why I need you to think before I reply.” He faces me, no avoiding his question. “Think about this and take your time about answering. When it comes to healing, would more time around Joe help or hinder?” For a second time, he suggests I take my time. “There’s no hurry to answer.”
And for a second time today, I tell the truth. “Lenny loves him.”
My new boss just showed me worry. Now he shows surprising sweetness. “Yes. I saw that. But, no,” he says with a smile that doesn’t make me feel laughed at. It’s as supportive as his statement. “I meant your healing after everything you’ve been through and considering what you still have ahead.” He squares his shoulders in a move that I last saw Joe make to shield my brother from crowds in the courtyard. Luke seems to think I need the same protection.
From Joe.
“If him being here would be a sad reminder of when you felt helpless and hopeless about the future, or desperate, I’ll turn him down, no question.” He lands a hand on my shoulder. “Joe saw you at what sounds like a very low point. Your recovery from that matters, Isaac. You’re doing it for more than one person. That double duty means you’re allowed to take the time you need. Please let yourself have it.”
He jogs down the steps to join the children in the playground.
I follow, almost stumbling down the same steps in my hurry. “I don’t have anything to heal from. I’m fine.”
Luke opens his mouth as if he has more to say, only he shuts it instead, then heads off.
That should be that, right?
Discussion over.
I can’t help following him across the playground and into the woods, where I catch up with him outside the school chapel. I don’t know why hooking a hand around his elbow seems like a good plan. All I know is that I yank him around to face me.
My ears ring with a surprise blast from the past. Mrs. Obasi might as well be right beside me.
Don’t let anyone see you’re scared . Find your lion, Isaac.
Find it?
Out of nowhere, I roar, “I am fine.” I mean this so much my fists clench. “I am .” I take a breath and growl, “I’ve always been strong for Len. I don’t have any plans to stop anytime soon. It doesn’t matter that Joe saw…”
I blink away a flashback of me picking my way through the wreckage of a home Mum once filled with stories. Joe saw me at my worst that night. Had to guide me past police tape when I couldn’t even breathe, let alone think or function. He saw me when I was weak. Now I’m as grim as when I saw all of that fingerprint powder.
“He wasn’t anything to do with what happened.”
“Of course he wasn’t,” Luke says easily. He waves off the padre, who must have heard my roar from inside the chapel. His rapid approach is as surprising as realising how tightly my fists have curled.
Fuck.
I try to unclench them in a hurry and reel back a few steps. “Sorry, sorry. I?—”
“No need,” Luke promises as if I didn’t just front up to him like a boxer. He still doesn’t back off. If anything, he makes excuses for my fists refusing to loosen. “Fight is a typical trauma response.” He adds more as I quickly add some more stumbling distance between us. “So is flight.”
I don’t know why him holding a hand out to me stops me in my tracks. I’m drawn back almost to the same spot, only my feet refuse to take the last step between us. “And here comes freeze,” he says so gently that I have to close my eyes from what his face shows me.
I still hear his compassion.
“This is what I meant, Isaac.”
He tells me what I’ve read to Lenny so often that I don’t even need a book to see the words float on the air between us.
“Trauma responses aren’t a sign of weakness. They signpost old scars, that’s all. Ones that need light and air to heal instead of staying hidden to fester. Children play their way through that process, given the chance. Sometimes the process takes having someone to share with. Maybe Joe is that person for you like he once was for your brother. Perhaps he isn’t, but there is one more trauma response you might want to look into before you decide, and as soon as our school counsellor is back in a few weeks, you could talk it over with him. I’m in no rush for you to tell me. All I’m asking is that you put yourself first for once.”
I open my eyes at Luke’s next suggestion.
“Think of it this way. If a plane depressurises and the oxygen masks fall, what are the instructions?”
“For parents to help themselves instead of helping their kids first.”
“Yes.” He smiles as if I just made some kind of breakthrough. “To give themselves the breathing space they need to care for those more vulnerable than themselves. That’s all I want you to think about. Will having Joe here give you more oxygen or less? More air to help you through what is still coming for both you and Lenny?”
I nod. Joe’s already done that for me in a bathroom.
“Or will his presence suck up what you need to arm yourself with for the future? Because if you think Joe staying on-site will get in the way of any of that, I’ll decline to even hear his full proposal.”
Despite all this talk of air, I can barely wheeze out, “He won’t get in the way.”
Thank fuck Luke doesn’t ask me to explain what makes me so certain. I’d have no clue how to answer. All I know is that choking this out feels truthful. “He only ever helped us.”
“That was my first impression.” Luke’s hand lands on my shoulder again before he backs off to join the padre where he makes a last suggestion. “You’ll see him this evening?”
I nod.
“Well, if my first impression is right, I think Joe will ask you similar questions about him extending any future visit here. Maybe bear that in mind. Think about it overnight, then let me know. How about in the morning? Lenny is coming to Sealife School down in the village?”
“He wants to. Tor told him he goes every Saturday and invited him along.”
“I’ll be there with Hadi. I won’t reply to Joe until you and I have a chance to catch up. Talk to him, Isaac. Or play.” I’m not sure if he winks at me again, like he did across the dining hall at breakfast. He definitely says, “But do think.”
I nod again. Both Luke and the padre nod back.
As for me, I get busy texting, only to see that Joe’s added another message to the ones he already sent me
Joe: No pressure .
Breathing again then is easy. So is sending him two quick replies.
Isaac: None felt.
That’s almost my whole truth.
I complete it.
Isaac: Can’t wait to see you later.