The Guardian's Protector: The Chamber of Souls (17 page)

‘Look, man, it’s not as much as I’d pay someone else but we
all
get paid!’ Winston ruffled Tom’s thick locks. With the pay packet still held in the air, Tom looked at Amy.

‘Go on, Tom,’ she said. ‘You’ve earned it!’ Tom smiled and took the money.

The week after, Tom created his own routine. He worked all morning then took his lunch break in the café with the customers. He’d work again until late afternoon then go upstairs to the lads’ flat and listen to Ladysmith Black Mambazo. He liked to have his midday break as relaxed as possible; he claimed their voices did the trick. Tom was also excited this week because it was the end of the month, when Mark brought him a new book.

Amy loved the bond Tom and Mark had created. Even though her crush was ever increasing and her flirting never more obvious—which yielded no response, making her wonder if he was married or gay—Amy loved Mark’s visits too.

Tom ran to the back door when he heard Mark’s knock and, after a minute of them not walking through, Amy followed.

‘How’s division?’ Mark asked Tom from outside.

‘Great!’ Tom said. ‘I’ve learnt all my basic maths now.’

‘Brilliant,’ Mark said, handing Tom a set of poetry books. ‘I hope you enjoy these.’

‘Oh, I will. Thank you, Mark.’

‘Why aren’t you coming in?’ Amy asked.

‘I can’t,’ Mark said, pulling the door wide open to reveal a scraggy beige mongrel lying haplessly on the floor outside. Tom ran out to stroke it.

‘Don’t touch it!’ Amy shouted.

Tom looked confused for a moment. ‘He won’t bite,’ Tom said as if reading her thoughts. ‘He’s nice.’ The dog rolled over for Tom to scratch his belly, revealing all the bones in his chest.

‘He’s got no home,’ Mark informed with a mischievous smile.

‘Can
we
take him home?’ Tom asked excitedly. ‘We can feed him and give him a bath!’

‘We can’t afford a dog, Tom.’

‘I’ll pay for him,’ Tom said. ‘I have my money from my spends and my wages! He needs us!’ He cuddled up to the dog and smiled at Amy. ‘He’s my
friend
!’ With the word ‘friend’, her heart gave a pang.

Amy grimaced at the dog and, as if putting on his best I’m-a-good-dog-please-take-me-home look, the dog sat up straight, his big, brown eyes fixed on hers, as if trying to judge his fate from her expression.

‘Pleeeeeease,’ Tom whined, his eyes as puppy-looking as the dog’s. ‘I’ll call him David!’

Amy turned to Mark. ‘Do you always pick up strays?’

‘I help the homeless,’ he said, the slight curl of his soft lips sending shivers down her. ‘I work in a soup kitchen at weekends.’

‘I want to help with soup!’ Tom said, not knowing what it entailed. ‘Can I work with Mark in the soup, Mum?’ Amy found this funny and laughed.

‘We could always use a helping hand…’ Mark admitted, flashing his green eyes at Amy, ‘…or
two
!’ he added, knowing full well she’d agree to that pearly smile and handsome face. ‘Think about it. I’ll call in next week.’

There was nothing to think about; Amy now had an excuse to see Mark more than once a month. Willing to fall deeper into his lure, the prospect excited her as much as it did Tom.

Wagging his fluffy tail, having found a new owner, David the dog followed them all the way home. David let Amy and Tom bathe and blow dry his long golden coat and, after frying him some minced steak, they let him out in the back garden to show him his new toilet. David was then, after Tom’s begging, allowed to sleep in Tom’s room.

As she closed his door and saw the happiness on Tom’s face, Amy couldn’t believe she’d never thought of getting him a dog. Always a complete loner, ostracised by most, the dog was the best thing that could’ve happened to him.

‘David is my very best friend! On me and you he does depend,’ Tom said as the pair of them bounded in her room Sunday morning.

‘You love your poetry book, I see!’ Amy laughed.

As they walked to her parents’ house that mild August afternoon, Tom took in the world around him with his strange fascination to flowers and birds. ‘Do you know,’ he began, caught in wonder, ‘this is a lovely world? Not like the world I visit in my dreams, though. That’s wondrous.’

As they walked up the familiar cobbled drive, Francesca ran out to greet them.

Amy picked her up. ‘Hello, Francesca.’

‘My name does be
Frankie
!’ she said.

‘Oh sorry,
Frankie
!’ Amy laughed. As Amy placed her back down, Francesca smacked Tom in the neck, the highest point she could reach.

‘Hello, Frankie!’ Tom said and laughed as she ran back inside.

As they entered, Frank was in the middle of a rant: ‘The French are all idiots!’

‘Do you know
all
the French people, Uncle Frank?’ Tom asked in amazement.

Frank turned. ‘Well, no, Tom, I’m not being literal!’

‘What does literal mean?’ Tom asked, now interested in nothing more than learning a new word.

‘Well, exact or accurate.’

‘So you’re not being exact or accurate then?’

‘Well, I am, because I go off the majority.’

‘The majority meaning most?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you know
most
of them, then?’

‘Don’t be cheeky.’

Tom looked confused. ‘I’m just being literal.’ Alicia looked at Amy like she should scold him for his cheek.

‘Can you imagine this smart Aleck at school?’ Frank said. ‘No one likes a smart Aleck you know, lad.’

‘He’s not a smart Aleck,’ Amy retorted. ‘He’s right. And anyway, I’m not enrolling him at school.’

Thomas sat up straight. ‘Now look here, young lady,’ he began. ‘You may have ruined your education by having Tom, but I won’t allow you not let him have one at all! He’s not so clever he doesn’t need to go to school.’

‘I’m working, though,’ Tom brought up. ‘You know, for Winston and now Mark,’ he added with a wide smile.

‘Working?’ Thomas asked. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, my laddo.’

‘What could nursery possibly teach him, Dad? He’d be bored.’

Thomas stared at her for a moment as if considering her words. ‘Then get him into one of those genius schools or something.’

‘He doesn’t need it. He’s sort of got his own tutor in a way because of Mark.’

‘But he’s
got
to go to school!’

‘If someone from the authorities came to question me, I’d be able to prove he’s educated!’ Amy retorted, hoping that would be enough. Otherwise she’d have to send him to the teacher Adaizi mentioned. ‘He’s learnt more than the year sixes at that school.’

Alicia growled to show her angst for the subject, stopping the conversation.

‘Anyway,’ Joan said, ‘who is this
Mark
?’

‘Mark Smith,’ Amy answered, and felt the butterflies in her stomach.

‘I mean, who is he to you—you know, are you…
involved
?’ Joan hushed the last word.

‘No!’ Amy blushed.

Frank laughed. ‘Amy and Mark up a tree…’

‘
How
old are you?’ Amy snapped.

‘Mark
who
?’ Alicia interrupted.

‘Smith,’ Frank answered in a childish tone.

‘Mark
Smith
? Is he about my age?’

‘Probably,’ Amy said.

‘I wonder if it’s Edward and Cathleen Smith’s son,’ she said to Frank, then looked back to Amy. ‘Is he tall?’

‘Yes,’ Amy answered, wondering what gossip was imminent.

‘I bet it’s him. I knew he lived in Manchester but he’s not been seen for years. His parents were killed in a freak fire. He had to go into care for a year or two but…they left him a fortune!’ Alicia stared blankly at Amy before saying, ‘How do
you
know
him
?’

‘It’s not the same person,’ Amy said, remembering his dress sense and the fact that he hasn’t got a car. ‘I
know
he hasn’t got money! Even the books he brings Tom are second-hand.’

‘Of course it isn’t him.’ Alicia snickered. ‘You’re in a dead-end, minimum wage job and…well…look at you. Have you
ever
had your hair cut? You don’t even wear makeup. In fact, you make no effort,’ she said definitively, looking in disgust at Amy’s worn jeans. ‘You haven’t had interest from
anyone
since Luke, let alone him!’

‘Too far!’ Frank snapped.

‘It’s fine!’ Amy said, tucking her waves behind her ears. Amy had never thought she was anything to look at, but she didn’t realise she was unattractive. She now realised why
her
Mark had never asked her out.

No one said a word during dinner.

After dinner, while everyone sat to watch TV in the living room, Tom turned to Thomas. ‘Granddad?’ he asked.

‘Yes, my laddo?’

‘Frank says it doesn’t matter about his hat!’

‘What hat?’ Frank asked.

‘Not you,
Uncle
Frank,’ Tom said. ‘The
Frank in my head. He says he’s my great granddad!’ The whole room stopped and a cold silence lingered. Tom, all eyes upon him, suddenly realised he’d done something wrong.

He looked hurt as his granddad, who he loved so much, stormed out of the room. He jumped back in shock as his uncle Frank shouted, ‘He’s dead!’ angrily at him. He looked confused by his Aunt Alicia, who had a smug smile on her face, and as his grandma walked away without looking at him, he turned back to Amy, who was staring at him in disbelief, looking heartbroken.

‘It’s okay,’ Amy offered, holding her arms out to him. Just an unkind look from a person would make Tom consider himself. It was a soul-destroying thing to watch when his picture of compassionate, trusting humans exploded in his face.

‘What did I do wrong?’ he asked, his bottom lip quivering.

Amy pulled him into the hall to speak to him separately and sat at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Tom, my granddad was called Frank, but he died many years ago,’ she said, trying to make him understand that he couldn’t have been speaking to him.

‘I know. He died
ten
years ago.’

Tears fell from Amy’s eyes. ‘
How
do you know?’

‘He told me!’

‘How could he tell you if he’s dead?’ Amy asked, trying to keep calm.

‘He talks to me!’ he answered, now tearful himself. ‘Don’t you believe me?’ As he searched her face she felt like she’d betrayed him.

‘I know you don’t lie,’ she said, wiping her eyes and pulling him close. ‘If your great granddad told you to tell your granddad something, then you are just being a good boy. It’s just…upsetting, that’s all. Stay here while I talk to your granddad.’ Tom nodded.

The room was stale. Her palms sweating, her heart beating rapidly, she received cold stares from everyone. Nervously, she walked into the kitchen where her dad stood, staring out of the window. His fists, clenched tightly, were placed firmly on the worktop.

‘Didn’t you once say you regretted not having a hat for…?’

‘Don’t say it!’ he snapped, still staring out of the window. ‘I don’t believe in any of that nonsense and I’d prefer it if Tom didn’t say anything like that again!’

Amy was taken aback by his anger. A lump swelled up in her throat. ‘Don’t you normally say you won’t believe in things unless you see them with your own eyes?’

‘All I can
see
…is a
clever
boy!’ he hissed with an undertone, still gazing out the window.

‘What’s
that
supposed to mean?’ Amy bellowed for all to hear. When he didn’t answer she stormed into the living room. As she did, Tom walked from the hall and took her hand. Joan was pretending her favourite show was on the TV. Frank shook his head at them and Alicia remained smug.

‘I didn’t mean to upset anyone,’ Tom cried, clearly devastated by the atmosphere he’d caused.

‘That first Christmas when he said that about Francesca, I’d told you he was weird,’ Alicia said to Amy.

‘You mean psychic?’ Amy shrieked, making Alicia jump.

‘Psychic?’ Alicia laughed.

‘What do you mean by weird, then?’ Feeling her blood start to boil, Amy held Tom’s hand and tried to remain composed.

‘
Not normal
!’ Alicia stood blatantly with her hands on her hips, her chin lifted defiantly, looking like a bigger version of her daughter.

‘Pack it in, Ali,’ Frank said under his breath.

‘Pack it in. Is that it?’ Amy screamed.

‘Don’t shout, Mum,’ Tom begged. ‘It’s okay.’ He tugged on her hand.

‘Tom weird!’ Francesca said, screwing up her face and putting her tongue out.