Chapter 26
Adam
It feels a little bit like I’m a snow globe, sitting on a shelf with all the other snow globes, and a child has just come along and shaken me.
Hugh is distressed; his arms flailing and mouth wide. I give him Hei Hei, once, twice, three times, but he lasts five seconds before he’s flung across the room. My head is full of thoughts: Katie, Becky, Chloe, Old Sausage, Eve, Okie, Hugh, the house, Dublin... three weeks ago, my life was still, and now there are things falling everywhere, and I can’t decide which parts are beautiful and which are a mess.
I try to soothe Hugh, fast-forwarding Moana to his favourite part, but he is appeased for only a minute before he begins shrieking again. While he’s quiet, I quickly roll up his sleeves. No bruises, nothing. So why is he behaving like this?
I shovel all of my other thoughts into a box in my head, focusing only on this. Is something happening? Is he OK? If only he could tell me — if only I could see...
My experience with Hugh’s last home is making me paranoid; understaffing and lack of training meant that I pulled him out of there underweight and clinically unhappy, but since being here he’s been better than I’ve ever seen him. The doctor came to see me as soon as I arrived this morning, telling me that Hugh’s bruise was likely the result of him catching his arm as he moved it, and nothing more sinister. But if something were to happen again... I stop my imagination in its tracks. It won’t. But I need to be prepared.
I cycle from Hugh’s to my first student’s house — a struggling and highly-pressured girl whose parents want her to be a doctor — and then on to three more before I reach Okie’s as my last call of the day. I use most of our session to show Okie the exam times I’ve found; we write them in his planner and make a flow chart of actions before they occur. As we wrap up, Mr Adayemi hands me my envelope and wishes me a good afternoon.
My sessions finished for the day, I cycle in the opposite direction of home. I stop in a shop and find what I need, before continuing on, back to Hugh’s.
He’s no better when I return, sullen and downcast, which to me is worse than the screeching. At least when he’s loud he’s fighting, trying to tell me something.
‘Right, we’re going to get to the bottom of this,’ I tell him. ‘Let’s see what’s going on.’
I sit on the bed and unwrap the box I bought at the shop, quickly scanning the instruction manual and connecting the device to my phone. Then I stand on my tiptoes and place the tiny camera on top of the wardrobe, feeling a thin layer of dust that tells me it’s unlikely to be disturbed for a while.
I check my phone and make some adjustments, until I can see Hugh’s chair and the bed clearly. The battery icon in the corner of my screen tells me the camera is on 100%, but I’ll bring spare batteries with me next time just in case.
‘Hi.’ A voice from the doorway startles me, and I lock my phone quickly, spinning around. It’s Becky.
‘Oh, hi!’ I say, unnecessarily enthusiastically.
‘How are we?’ she asks, avoiding my gaze and focusing on Hugh.
‘Not good, actually,’ I reply, my words tripping over each other, caught between the awkwardness and the need to protect my brother. ‘He’s not been great today, which is really unusual for him.’
Becky crouches down next to Hugh. ‘Hugh?’ She touches his arm lightly. She studies his face for a second, and then stands back up. ‘He’s not himself, is he?’ she says, a crease forming between her eyebrows.
‘No. Can we — I don’t know, I’m not accusing anyone of anything, but he isn’t usually like this, and I found a bruise on his arm the other day, and—’
If looks could kill, Becky would be murdering me again and again. ‘We all love Hugh. There’s no way anything like that’s going on.’ She glares at me a second longer, and then turns away.
‘Of course, no, but you understand that I have to be vigilant. I’m the only person he has—’
‘What about your parents?’ she says, almost accusatorially. ‘Where are they?’
I falter. ‘Becky, I’m sorry. If you’re still angry with me...’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ Her face goes red and she runs a hand through her fringe. ‘That was too far. It’s none of my business.’
‘No,’ I agree. ‘But our parents aren’t around, so it really is just us. Us and the guys, when they pop in.’
She nods. ‘I’ll see if I can get therapy to come to him first thing in the morning.’
She leaves, closing the door behind her, but I stay where I am, staring at the space where she stood. I feel deeply unsettled; something is nudging against the edge of my mind — the way she snapped at me, the look she gave me. The tiny tattoo on her wrist. Was it Becky I didn’t like... or was it who she reminded me of?
I sink onto Hugh’s bed, resting the back of my head against the windowsill. Holidays: Katie’s sunbathing, the beginning of our end. Becky’s sunbathing, a sign of irreparable differences. Does Becky just remind me of the person Katie has turned into?
My thoughts are interrupted by the beeping of my phone. A stream of new WhatsApp messages, from ‘Eve Cat Neighbour’.
Eve: Hi, it’s Eve, from down the road
Eve: I don’t think I got your name
Eve: I’ve put Old Sausage on Animal Search UK
Eve: Can you do Facebook — not really my remit
Eve: Thanks
Me: Hi Eve, I’m Adam. Should I trust you or are you going to get me kicked out of the garden?
I delete it all and start again.
Me: Hi Eve, I’m Adam. Trying to think of a joke about our names that doesn’t sound weird and I’m failing. Yeah, I’ll put it on Facebook — didn’t realise there was a remit for these kinds of things if you were under 50, but what do I know?
I check on Hugh, handing him Hei Hei again, before another message comes through.
Eve: Ha. Careful, I might get you kicked out of the garden.
I mentally slap myself for not getting the joke in there first.
Eve: Great, let me know if you hear anything
Eve: Have you seen her recently?
Me: Not since he appeared in my hallway while you were there. Have you?
Eve: Nope
Eve: Hope she’s gone home
Eve: It’s a girl BTW
Me: I sort of hope HE sticks around — I like it when he comes and disrupts my day
Eve: Keep *HER* then!
Eve: Let me know when you’ve put the ad up
Me: Will do — speak soon
My phone stays silent, and I turn it over in my hands. I take one last look at the camera, plant a kiss on Hugh’s head, and then leave, to go home to my empty house.