The Eye of the Sheep (25 page)

I lay on the sand, my throat and nose burning as Uncle Rodney kneeled beside me, the still clouds behind him, hiding the sun. I saw its bright rays around the edges.

Uncle Rodney was pressing on my chest. ‘Oh God, Jimmy, oh God . . . Jimmy! Jimmy!’ he said and in his voice was the voice of all Flick brothers – Rodney, Gavin, Steve and Ray – four brothers calling for me – willing me, willing me.

I coughed and out came hot salty vomit, the same as I’d seen in the rabbit. I opened my mouth and the air rushed in.

Uncle Rodney gripped me against him, saying my name,
Jim Jim
, as Ned watched over his shoulder, waiting without movement, the light in his eyes at the back the same light.

I lay in the double bed on cool sheets and Uncle Rodney sat beside me.

‘Jimmy, I shouldn’t have left you by yourself,’ he said when I opened my eyes. ‘What was I thinking? I should never have . . .’

Another man who was with Uncle Rodney took my temperature with his glass tube of mercury, waiting for my reading to enter the liquid. He felt under my arms and under my throat, his fingertips dry and cold.

Uncle Rodney said, ‘What do you think, Brian?’

The man nodded. ‘A bit out of your depth here, aren’t you, Rod?’ he said.

‘The boy’s alright, isn’t he?’

‘The boy is fine, but you can’t afford to have something like this happen again. I don’t know how you made it in time.’

‘Nance in twenty-two was in her garden when she saw bloody Ned howling on the shore. She called me and I got straight in the car. Thank god for Ned, hey?’ Uncle Rodney shook his head. There was blood and shadow all through his eyes and the skin of his face. He patted Ned’s head but his sensors were trained on me.

‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I’m not sure that you are going to be able to provide him with what he needs . . .’

‘He’s got nowhere else.’ Uncle Rodney ran his hand through his hair.

Brian packed up his case. ‘Let me talk to a couple of people and see if I can help.’ Before he left the room he turned to me. ‘You’re lucky your uncle found you in time,’ he said, as if it was a warning.

Later Uncle Rodney brought me hot chocolate and chicken chips. He sat beside the bed with electricity shooting from his pores, draining his battery.

‘Jim, I know you don’t want to talk . . . I was a lot older than you when my mother died, but . . .’

Water dripped from Uncle Rodney’s eye pipes. I looked into the round water of his tears and saw Mother Beloved wearing a scarf around her head. In her hands was a basket of sultana cakes.
Sorry. Sorry, boys
, she said.

‘I didn’t feel much like talking either,’ said Uncle Rodney. ‘It will get better, Jim.’

I watched as he rubbed more tears away from his nose and cheek and chin.

Three days later I sat with Ned in the backyard while Uncle Rodney spoke on the telephone. For most of the three days he had been trying to find a place for me to live. I put my arms around Ned’s chest and listened to his heart beating blood to his vitals. I rested against him, my only living source. Like me, he couldn’t cry.

Amanda came to the house. She didn’t knock – she just opened the door and called, ‘Rod?’

‘In the yard!’ Uncle Rodney called back. She came outside where Uncle Rodney drank coffee and watched me throw the ball for Ned. I only threw it a step. Ned caught it in his jaws and dropped it between my feet. I threw it again and again.

‘How are you doing?’ Amanda asked Uncle Rodney.

‘I don’t know.’ Uncle Rodney shook his head. ‘I just don’t know.’

Amanda smiled at me. ‘Good to see you up and about, Jim.’

I threw the ball again and Ned caught it.

‘I have to get back to the shop, Amanda. I’ve had to close for three days. Missed a load of tourists from Tokyo. Ian bloody Webb couldn’t resist telling me. I can’t afford it.’

I saw Amanda nod her head. She looked at me and her face was sad. ‘But he’s family.’

‘I know he’s family! But he nearly fucking drowned! I nearly fucking lost him! I don’t know what I’m doing.’

‘Take it easy, Rod. Dave will take a couple of days off to watch over the shop while you sort this out.’

‘Sorry, Amanda.’

‘You’ve got nothing to say sorry for.
I’m
sorry. I brought you potatoes with bacon.’ She came to me and she took me hard and quick against her and kissed the top of my head. ‘Hang in there, Jim,’ she said.

That night I was lying on the bed when Uncle Rodney came in. ‘You alright, Jim? You need a glass of water or anything?’

I shook my head.

He sat on the chair beside the bed. ‘Jim, you know I care . . . oh God . . .’ Rodney sighed loudly, and blew out a column of air. ‘You can’t stay here, Jim. You need better care. It’s not
on the island. You’re going to be placed with a family for a while who take care of special kids. Special kids like you, hey?’ He bent forward and he held me so tight the meat between my bones was crushed. ‘Oh Christ, what a mess. Jesus. I’m sorry, little fella,’ he said, and Ned climbed on the bed and laid his head on my knee.

Uncle Rodney took me on another plane ride back to the mainland. I closed my eyes and floated with the dust in the world where outer and inner space joined. The seat dug into the bones of my arms.

At the airport Uncle Rodney and me stood in a queue and soon a taxi came. Uncle Rodney put out his hand and the taxi drove close to the kerb and stopped. The boot popped open and the driver got out and put Mum’s red suitcase into it. We climbed into the back seat and Uncle Rodney said, ‘Thirty-five Cook Road,’ and the driver of the taxi knew where to go. Soon the car stopped outside a house with
35
on the letterbox. Uncle Rodney paid the driver and we climbed out.

A woman who’d been waiting in a white car crossed the road towards us. She was tucked into her black suit, the bottom matching the top, and she carried a leather briefcase. ‘I hope I’m not late,’ said Uncle Rodney, putting out his hand.

‘Not at all. I’m early,’ the woman said, shaking Uncle Rodney’s hand. ‘Jan Watts.’

‘Rodney Flick,’ said Uncle Rodney.

Jan Watts looked at me and smiled. ‘This must be Jim.’

‘This is Jim,’ said Uncle Rodney. Tears rose up in him; he could hardly breathe.

‘Hi, Jim. Today we’re going to get you settled into a new home. The Reeds live right in there. Pretty big house, isn’t it? What do you think?’

‘He hasn’t spoken since . . . much . . . since they found him,’ said Uncle Rodney.

‘Right . . . that’s right. That’s okay. Anne will have him talking again in no time. She’s had plenty of experience.’

Uncle Rodney took my hand in one of his and the red suitcase in the other, and we followed Jan Watts up the front path of 35. We knocked on the door and a boy opened it and he was big with freckles that came close to touching. He looked at me then up at Uncle Rodney and he said, ‘What the hell do you want?’

‘Liam! That’s no way to greet someone!’ a woman said, coming up behind him. ‘What do you say when someone comes to the door? What do you say?’

‘Fuck off?’ said Liam, looking at me.

The woman sighed. ‘Go to your room please, Liam. You can stay there until I come and get you.’ She turned the boy around and pushed him gently on the back. ‘Go on, off you go.’

Liam scuffed his shoe into the floor as he left.

‘Sorry about that,’ said the woman. She put out her hand for Uncle Rodney to shake. ‘I’m Anne White.’

Anne White’s eyes were pink and melting at the rims, as if she’d looked into too many fires. Inside the rims the balls were pale blue.

‘Hello, Jim,’ she said, leaning down to me. ‘I’m so glad you are coming to stay with us. I hope you’ll be happy here.’ She called over her shoulder, ‘Deirdre!’

A girl smaller than me came to the door. Her hair was in a long plait that hung over her shoulder, like rope.

‘Come and meet Jim.’

Deirdre took Anne White’s hand and looked at me. ‘I’m not nine yet,’ she said.

‘Jim, this is Deirdre,’ said Anne White. ‘She lives here too.’

‘And so does Liam,’ said Deirdre, rolling her eyes.

‘Yes, Liam lives here too,’ said Anne White. ‘Jim has already met him.’

‘Liam’s dad can’t walk,’ said Deirdre. ‘But his arms are double strength.’

‘Thank you, Deirdre.’ Anne White smiled at Uncle Rodney. ‘Let’s all go into the living room and have a talk. Deirdre, will you show Jim the play things in the big chest?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But he can’t touch my doll, Melanie. She won’t sing if he touches her.’

‘No, he won’t touch your doll. Show him the trains. And the car with the remote control.’

‘The remote control doesn’t work,’ said Deirdre.

‘Show it to him anyway, please. The two of you might be able to fix it.’

‘Okay,’ said Deirdre. She took my hand and led me to the toy chest in the corner of the room. She pulled me down to it, putting a black plastic car on the floor in front of me. Then she looked in the box again and found the control panel. Wires came out the top. She put it into my hands. I held onto it as I listened to Uncle Rodney, Jan Watts and Anne White discuss my cases.

‘Over the years I’ve worked with plenty of antisocial behaviour,’ said Anne White.

‘It’s not that he’s antisocial,’ said Uncle Rodney. ‘He’s a social kid. He’s just . . .’

‘Traumatised?’ said Jan Watts. ‘Since the loss?’

‘Yeah – yeah, he’s traumatised. I’d keep him, but I don’t think it’s the right thing,’ said Uncle Rodney. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want him to get into trouble. He still isn’t eating properly, and he hasn’t said a word. I can’t find his dad, or his brother. He’s always been a bit . . . different.’

‘I’ve been fostering children ever since I had kids of my own over twenty-five years ago,’ said Anne White, ‘and Jan’s report on Jim doesn’t scare me too much. When he’s more settled he can go to school here. We are part of an active community. I think the company of other kids who are in a similar position can be very helpful. And the island is only a plane ride away. You can visit whenever you want, Rodney. And when you track down the rest of his family we can talk again about what will happen to Jim.’

‘It’s been great to meet you, Anne. It’s a relief to know he’ll be living here.’

I heard a shout from upstairs.

‘Excuse me, Rodney,’ she said. She went to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Liam!’ she called. ‘I’m coming up there in a minute to see what you’re doing!’ She turned back to Uncle Rodney. ‘Do you know, my husband Jake and I have decided that Jim will be our last foster child. It’s been wonderful, but we just don’t have the energy we used to. I think that makes Jim a bit special, don’t you?’

Deirdre sang,
When you dance, sweet Melanie, When you do a dance for me I can see your knickers, Melanie,
and I couldn’t hear Uncle Rodney’s answer.

Uncle Rodney kneeled opposite me, looking into my eyes. I looked into his but there was glass between me and their light, as if he was a mirage.

‘You’re going to be okay here, Jim.’ He put his arms around me. A tear came out his pipe. I had never seen a single tear of Uncle Rodney’s before and now I was seeing too many to count. ‘Ned is going to miss you, mate.’ He wiped away the tear. ‘I’m sorry about all this. But you’re going to be alright here, aren’t you?’ He set me back. ‘You are, aren’t you, kid?’

I knew Uncle Rodney wanted words, but I didn’t have any for him.

Jan Watts and Uncle Rodney walked through the front door leaving me with Anne White. She took the red suitcase Uncle Rodney had left behind. ‘Let’s get you settled in, Jim.’

‘Liam wrote
fuck
on the wall,’ said Deirdre.

‘Deirdre!’ said Anne White. ‘Please don’t use that word. Liam has been spoken to about what he did. You are not to repeat that story anymore, do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ answered Deirdre as we walked upstairs.

‘And you are never to use that word.’

‘What word?’ asked Deirdre.

‘You know the word I am talking about. Don’t use it again or you’ll lose a star from the rewards board.’

‘Yes, Anne,’ said Deirdre. She turned around to me and said
fuck
without the sound.

Anne White opened the door to a small room where Liam sat at a desk in the corner tipping back and forth on his chair.

‘You’ll be on the bottom,’ said Anne White, pointing to a set of iron bunks. ‘Don’t do that please, Liam.’

Liam stopped tipping. He had his eyes on me.

‘I want you to make Jim feel welcome, Liam. You remember what it was like when you first came, don’t you? How you felt a bit lost without your Aunt Leanne?’ Anne White began making up the bottom bunk with the blankets and sheets. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s how Jim feels. So, Liam, maybe you could show him some of your games and show him the yard and where you’ve been helping Jake clear the ground for the vegetable patch. Okay?’ Anne White sounded tired, as though every word was one too many. She smoothed her hand down the blankets on the bed. ‘This is your bed, Jim.’ She pulled my red suitcase to the cupboard. ‘Do you mind if I unpack your things, or would you prefer to do it yourself?’

I looked at the red suitcase, then the window where I could see the single branch of a tree. Birds swooped up to the sky so I couldn’t see them, then down again so I could. I heard singing.
Won’t you tell me that you love me? Won’t you tell me that you do?
The sky was bright and grey. I didn’t know why I was in Cook Road. I closed my eyes and saw the world underwater. It was slower and cooler; there weren’t beds or fosters – everything drifted. Each shape could have been something else.

‘It’s almost six. You kids go outside and show Jim the yard,’ said Anne White, unpacking the clothes from my case and putting them into the cupboard. ‘I’ll call you for tea when it’s ready.’

I followed Liam and Deirdre down to the bottom of the yard to look at a patch of dirt inside a wooden square. ‘That’s for the vegetables, when Anne gets time,’ said Deirdre.

‘Why don’t you talk?’ Liam asked me.

‘Because he doesn’t want to,’ said Deirdre. She pointed at the square. ‘We can plant strawberries – wild ones that I can feed
to my doll because they’ll be the right size and they come with a daisy.’ Deirdre stuck her finger into the dirt and twirled it. ‘The daisy grows off the side.’