If
you would like to read the earlier episodes of this story, click
here. James is telling his wife Jane about his early life
for the first time – a conversation triggered by her suggestion
that it was time for his koala bear, Sydney, to be thrown away.
When
did things start to go wrong for him at the Browns’? Was
it always going to be too hard for them all to meet each others’
expectations, they of a loving younger son, who would follow the
paths of their older children and be a credit to them, and his
of totally accepting, uncritical substitute parents? Certainly
it became obvious that he was finding it hard to make up lost
ground at school and in the ‘good’ school where they
had placed him he was not in his accustomed place of top of the
class and undisputed ‘brains’ of the class. He got
dispirited and started to play truant, which made things worse.
Somehow, it was told to me later, he didn’t seem to be able
to stick at anything when the going got tough. I think he had
exhausted himself in all those years of looking after us.
Certainly
the Browns were far from uncritical, especially when they found
out he was dodging school, as well as doing badly when he was
there. They thought he was a bright boy and wanted him to succeed.
But maybe they also wanted to succeed in getting him through as
well as their own children, so they could not relax and settle
for what he could manage at that time. Probably he would have
gone back into education later and had a worthy career.
Instead
he ran away and went to London like so many before him. We used
to get the odd postcard from him, but we did not know where he
was, so we could not write back. Of course Sydney knew all about
this, but he couldn’t do anything. Not even the staff who
found me crying could do anything while nobody knew where he was.
I
began to worry about what would happen when we moved on. There
were plans for the three of us now, but after what had happened
to Simon our prospects were not great. We now expected people
to want to get rid of children who were not the best, or somehow
displeased them, so we were not very friendly to or trusting of
our new ‘family’.
I
think Sydney was the only ‘person’ I trusted completely.
How tragic was that. A second-hand bear with a funny name was
my most trusted friend. Even more tragic perhaps was that it stayed
like that until I married Jane. In fact probably up to now, because
this is the first time I am trusting anyone enough to tell them
the whole story of the Jones family.
What
would happen when Simon got a job and a flat and came back for
us like he promised? Would they even let him in at the assessment
centre since he was banned? Would anyone tell him where we had
gone? Would the Jacksons want him to know where they lived? Would
they let him visit us? All these questions I discussed with Sydney,
but all he could do was peck my cheek with his shiny little nose,
or scratch my ear with his scratchy little paws.
One
thing I did find out from Mrs Jackson was why Sydney had such
a funny name for a bear. She asked the member of staff whose son
gave him to me. It seems that when she was in hospital giving
birth to him she had been looked after by a young Australian doctor,
who came from Sydney. He had told her all about what a wonderful
place it was. He had been so attentive that when somebody gave
her new son a toy koala bear she had called him Sydney, as a way
of remembering a kind young man a long way from home. I don’t
imagine that the doctor ever knew what adventures his namesake
would have.
Of
course we went through all the stuff about learning what the habits
and expectations of a new lot of people wanted, but at least they
were only one set of people. At the assessment centre the staff
kept changing as they went on and off shift and all the kids had
to get used to changing their behaviour to suit each group of
staff. You might think there would be rules and everyone kept
to them, but even the staff could be delinquent.
Some
would let us stay up if we were quiet. Some sent us to bed early,
so that they could watch TV. Some checked up to see if we had
washed and cleaned our teeth. Some took time to see that we were
settled and nobody was upset at bedtime. Some of them just said,
“Bedtime”, and left us to it.
But
it was not only a matter of routine. Some of the staff would have
a laugh and a joke with the kids. A lot of them seemed to really
care about what happened to us and spent their own time and money
to make sure we had good times. But some of them were so grumpy,
even spiteful, that we used to wonder why they worked with kids
in care. It must have been terrible to have to come to work every
day if you really hated it.
Anyway,
once we found out where the Jacksons wanted us to hang our coats,
where to put our shoes when we came in, how to behave at the table,
what to do with our dirty clothes it stayed the same. They were
there all the time and so expectations didn’t change from
shift to shift. But also if they were mad with us we all had to
tough it out. There was no cooling off. No coming back on duty
after an eight hour break. Just there all the time.
The
Jacksons and Richard found this particularly difficult, mostly
because he never stopped telling them about our perfect mother
and what she would think about how they lived and the things they
expected us to do. According to Richard we would never have been
expected to do household chores. Actually this was true, but it
was because mother seldom saw the need to keep the place neat
and tidy, not because she cared for us so much she never asked
us to help out.
Like
Simon, Richard also found it hard to settle and achieve at school,
which disgusted him. The Jacksons were quite relaxed about it
and tried hard to be supportive, giving him other options and
trying to find things he could feel good about. But he was not
doing what mother would have expected and so nothing was good
enough. Richard would storm about the bad teachers and the tumbledown
school. He would throw his homework books around and push the
Jacksons away if they offered to help – sometimes literally
and Mr Jackson used to get very angry when Richard hurt his wife.
He was quite patient when Richard got physically aggressive with
him, but Paul and I knew this could not go on for long. We didn’t
know if we would all have to move on, or if we would be split
up from Richard as well as Simon.
One
day there was a huge row when the Jacksons found out that Richard
had been stealing their booze. It turned out that the bottle of
Coke he carried around was usually laced with vodka. Like mother
he had found out that alcohol blotted out the pain – for
a while.
Unfortunately
the school and social services decided he needed to see a psychologist,
who referred him for counselling. It wasn’t long before
Richard was playing the field and getting prescriptions for anti-depressants.
In the end Paul and I were quite relieved when Richard got moved
to an adolescent psychiatric unit, although at the time we had
no idea what that meant and I certainly could not pronounce it.
At least when he was gone we settled down to a quiet, happy time
with the Jacksons, for a while.
We
did all the things families do. We went for walks, we went on
holidays, we had friends home for tea. We got on with the kind
of lives the Jacksons lived. I suppose this was where we learned
most about how regular parents behaved. Now it wasn’t just
that I forgot about mother for days at a time, sometimes I realised
that I hadn’t thought about Simon either. I had even given
up looking out of the window, wondering if today would be the
day he came for us, to take us to live with him in his flat.
We
did once go to his bed-sit in some half-way house or hostel. Apparently
he had been in prison for a few months and this was something
called aftercare. It was small and horrid and smelly and he didn’t
seem to have much stuff. But at least we were in contact again.
Mr and Mrs Jackson were very kind and invited Simon home and gave
him things. They let him shower and do his laundry and they fed
him fairly frequently. If only they could have taken that extra
step and invited him to live with us. Perhaps they did. And perhaps
he knew that it was already too late for him and didn’t
want to wreck things for us.
He
was as kind and concerned about the three of us as ever and Mr
Jackson took him to visit Richard a few times. Paul and I were
never allowed to go because everybody thought it would be too
scary.
Then
a really bad thing happened. The social worker came one day and
after she had talked to the Jacksons, they all came and talked
to us. They said our mother had been found dead in our old house.
Nobody had seen her for ages and I expect the neighbours hoped
she had gone away. They certainly liked the quiet when she wasn’t
around. Nobody actually knew when she died, or what finally killed
her. When I was much older I found out that she had had so many
things wrong with her that any one could have been fatal.
The
Jacksons were very good to all of us at this time. They helped
the social workers to arrange the funeral and made sure that Simon
and Richard had decent clothes to wear and even arranged for flowers
from all four of us, as well as from the two of them so that it
looked like a lot in the funeral car. I didn’t have much
idea what was going on. I was not even sure what ‘dead’
meant. Mrs Jackson explained that it meant we would not see our
mother again, but I hadn’t seen her for so long I don’t
think I would have recognised her in the street anyway. And I
am sure she would not have recognised me by now.
At
the church there was a lot of talking done by a man at the
front. It seems that at some point mother had latched on
to a local Catholic Church. They must have had some sort of club,
or helping programme that she joined in with. It seems she got
some food and clothes there and the priest had the idea that she
was a lapsed church member, who intended to rejoin his flock.
None
of us recognised any of the things he said about her. Certainly
Simon and Richard got pretty mad about the things he said she
had told him about our family and how she had been deserted by
our father and how the terrible social workers plotted to keep
her away from us, while she was the devout innocent victim.
They
talked about it at the meal the Jacksons treated us to afterwards.
It was then and later that day when I was on my own with Simon
that I heard some of the family stories for the first time. It
was as if he thought I ought to know and felt as if he had to
tell me before it was too late.
After
a day or two we all got taken round to our old house to see if
there was anything we wanted left there. I couldn’t remember
much about it from before, except all the shouting when we had
been taken away. It was dark and dirty and very smelly. Simon
showed me which used to be my bedroom and there were a few old
books and some bits of games on a shelf. I think Simon found a
photograph album from the time when his parents had been young
and happy, and he was a baby but there was nothing in there about
any of the rest of us. In fact the younger three of us never seemed
to have had a photograph taken until we went to the assessment
centre. Simon also found our birth certificates in a box. He kept
his, but gave the rest to Mrs Jackson to look after.
Richard
went off to the bathroom and while he was there he cleared out
all mother’s medication from the medicine cabinet. He also
found some other stuff in the toilet cistern. Paul of course had
been watching round the edge of the door, but didn’t tell
anybody. He also didn’t tell anyone that Richard had taken
the spare front door key from the hook where it always hung at
the bottom of the stairs.
So
a few days later the social workers came again, and the Jacksons
called us in after they had talked for a bit. This time Richard
was missing from his psychiatric unit. Paul sat busily watching
a bird on a branch outside the window and saying nothing. If only
he had said, “Richard has the key to mother’s house
and all her medication”. But maybe it was already too late.
Certainly
if it had not been then he would have kept on until he succeeded.
He left a sad letter telling us how he felt it was all his fault.
He said how he had really liked the assessment centre and the
Jacksons, and had wanted to join in and enjoy it all, but was
so afraid of letting her down even more. All his life he had fought
for her love and approval, while all the time she played off the
three older boys one against the other. I wondered if anyone would
tell the priest what she had done to her own children.
