Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. (22 page)

‘Nice to see you, too, Evelyn.’ Mark looked on, bemused, as the salsa music died.

‘Sorry.’ Evelyn looked apologetic. ‘Your father’s being a bit of a handful, I’m afraid. Do come in.’

Mark glanced behind him, wondering whether it might be wiser to make a sharp exit. ‘Very kind of you,’ he said instead, and turned back to Starbuck and Karl.

‘Come, Starbuck,’ he commanded. The dog obeyed, bringing Karl along with him. ‘Sit and stay. Good boy.’

‘My son, Karl,’ Mark introduced him. ‘I think you’ve met.’

‘Not met, no. I’ve seen you come and go with him, obviously. I, um… Hello, Karl.’ It was Evelyn’s turn to stare now. Karl was bordering on hyperkinetic, rocking to and fro, visibly communicating his stress, until Starbuck intervened, thank God.

Mark drew in a relieved breath as Evelyn glanced from Karl to the dog, then to Mark, from which Mark gathered she hadn’t realised Karl was autistic.

‘But he’s…’ Evelyn trailed off.

‘Easily spooked,’ Mark finished. ‘Say, hello, Karl.’

‘Hello,’ Karl said, staring at Evelyn as he did, which Mark knew some people found unnerving.

‘I had no idea,’ Evelyn looked again from Karl to Mark. ‘Dot said he was a special needs child, but…’ She trailed off again, then seemed to pull herself together, shoulders up. Like daughter like mother, Mark couldn’t help noticing.

‘Nice to meet you, Karl,’ she said, taking a step towards him, then reaching tentatively out to stroke Starbuck. ‘Is this your dog?’

‘This is Starbuck. He’s Karl’s friend,’ Karl said, repeating how Sally had introduced Starbuck to Karl, Mark knew, but getting a thrill from it still. It was dialogue, of sorts. It was progress.

‘Is he now?’ Evelyn smiled. ‘He’s a very fine friend.’

‘He has fur,’ Karl said, and reached to stroke Evelyn’s hair, to Mark’s utter astonishment.

‘Bloody hell!’ He gasped, disbelieving. Where had that come from? Sally? Jody?

Evelyn glanced curiously at him.

‘Sorry.’ Mark shook himself out of his stupor. ‘He doesn’t normally, er… communicate, quite so, er…’

‘I’ll put kettle on,’ his dad said gruffly, placing a steadying hand on Mark’s shoulder.

Mark smiled, grateful for the timely interruption. He crouched down, stroked Starbuck, hesitated, then ruffled Karl’s hair. Karl didn’t react, but that was okay. Mark felt blessed enough for one day.

‘Come on, Karl,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Let’s get Starbuck a drink and then take him into the garden… to play.’ He glanced meaningfully at Evelyn.

Evelyn nodded, offered him a conciliatory smile, then shook her head as Dot piped up. ‘I’ll come and lend a hand, Robert.’

‘No. No need. I’m sure I can find the teapot on my own,’ his dad’s slightly panicky reply came back.

‘He’ll be back in his bunker if she bustles in.’ Evelyn rolled her eyes.

Mark laughed, and bent to unhook the tether from Karl. ‘Join us, if you like,’ he offered.

‘No, I won’t, thank you. I’d quite like some fresh air, but I need to soak my feet more. Don’t we, Dot?’

‘Do we?’ Dot wandered over.

‘Yes, they’re killing us,’ Evelyn assured her. ‘And I think Mark and Karl might need a little less distraction.’ She arched a questioning eyebrow at Mark.

‘Yes, thanks.’ Mark nodded his appreciation. She wasn’t so bad, he decided, despite her propensity to hit first and ask questions later.

Chapter Fourteen

Donna cursed her stupidity. She shouldn’t have been so impetuous, so full of herself she thought she could do what the professionals couldn’t. She wasn’t qualified.

She wasn’t anything.

Just a volunteer, who’d been here two minutes and taken into her naïve head that she was special enough to make a difference. She forced back hot tears of frustration and looked uselessly on, as the little boy kicked and screamed, a key worker on her knees behind him, desperately trying to hold onto him.

What
had
she been thinking? Trying to get the little boy to wear his shoes, as if it were as easy as helping him on with them?

‘Make way for the cavalry,’ Peter Lewis said behind her. ‘Whoops, sorry, Donna, excuse us,’ he said, smiling as he walked past with the boy’s dog, who Dr Lewis had taken out for walkies, which was when the little boy had decided to follow, and Donna had foolishly decided he shouldn’t with only his socks on.

‘Come on, Starbuck,’ Dr Lewis said jovially. ‘Show us what you’re made of, old stick.’

Dr Lewis let the dog off its leash, and Donna watched worriedly, then incredulously, as the dog walked across to the little boy, sat down beside him and placed a paw lightly on the boy’s legs.

In a flash, the little boy stopped thrashing, the key worker relaxed her grip, the boy sat up, stood up, and walked across to his dog. ‘Good Starbuck,’ he said, calmly patting the dog’s head.

‘That’s right,’ Dr Lewis said, producing a dog biscuit from his pocket and taking it to the dog.

He crouched down to the boy’s level. ‘And good Karl, too,’ he said, producing a biscuit for human consumption from his other pocket, ‘for listening to Starbuck.’

‘Starbuck wants to play,’ the boy said unblinkingly, taking the biscuit with one hand, the dog’s collar with the other, and walking off to play with the alphabet blocks.

‘Sit and stay, Starbuck,’ he said, plonking himself down next to the dog, so obviously unperturbed by events, a tear escaped Donna’s eye.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Dr Lewis said, coming over to her. ‘We all get things wrong here, as often as we get them right, until we learn what the children’s particular concerns or phobias are, and even then… take Thomas over there,’ Dr Lewis pointed to another little boy, who was painting away at the desk, and extremely accomplished Donna thought. ‘He loves his painting. Give him a paintbrush, he’s as happy as Larry. Try to put an apron on him, and we’re talking major meltdown. Doesn’t like the feel of the cloth on the back of his neck.’

Dr Lewis indicated the back of his own neck, shrugged and gave Donna a good-humoured smile. ‘Karl’s shoes need more scuffing,’ he confided, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking with her to the outside play area.

‘The world can seem a very unpredictable and confusing place to children with autism, Donna,’ Dr Lewis explained, as they watched children with varying degrees of autism playing, some together, some in isolation, a key worker gently trying to encourage social interaction.

‘That’s why routine is so important to them,’ he went on. ‘They prefer to have a fixed daily agenda so they know what’s going to happen next. Change can be very uncomfortable, and anything unfamiliar represents change. Karl will be less troubled by his new shoes when they’re muddied up a bit.’

Donna nodded, understanding. ‘Made to look old, as in familiar, you mean.’

‘Precisely. But even then, Karl might not be convinced. There’s a lot to learn, Donna, but I can see you’re keen.’ Dr Lewis nodded appreciatively.

‘Yes, I am,’ Donna assured him, hoping…
knowing
that she could rise to the challenge and maybe, in time, really make a difference, however small.

‘Excellent. I’ll dig out some study material for you.’ Dr Lewis led the way back inside.

‘People with autism often find it difficult to engage in social imaginative play,’ he chatted on, this time pointing to Karl, who was busy in his own little world with the alphabet blocks. ‘Often they prefer to act out the same scene over and over, which brings us back to routine, repetitive behaviours, obsessions, special interests. Here at Blossom Tree, we try to challenge the autism, Donna. Use those obsessions and interests as tools, if you like, with which to help the child develop.

‘Do any of the children ever go on to live independently?’ Donna asked, somewhat in awe of the man’s dedication and obvious enthusiasm.

‘Good question,’ Dr Lewis nodded thoughtfully. ‘And the answer is yes. Depending on the degree of learning disability, some will be able to live fairly independently, although they may need a degree of support to achieve independence. Others require lifelong, specialist support. The overriding factor though, is that people with autism can, and do, learn and develop with the right kind of support. That’s where we come in. We could certainly use someone with a bit of artistic skill.’

‘I’m your gal,’ Donna assured him, and set about proving it by helping the more able children finger-paint for the next hour.

Jean hadn’t been that pleased she’d taken the afternoon’s annual leave with Simon away, but Donna had already booked it, she’d pointed out, and left Jean to develop her typing skills.

When she wandered over, Karl had moved from the alphabet blocks to the wooden bricks, which he was stacking up in neat columns. ‘Hello, Karl,’ she said, kneeling down beside him.

Karl didn’t answer, but Donna was learning. He wasn’t recalling she was the scary woman who’d tried to force his familiar feet into his unfamiliar shoes. He just wasn’t relating.

She reached to stroke the black Labrador, thinking about Mark as she did so, her heart flopping loose in her chest. How he’d been walking a similar assistance dog with silken-haired Sally. How ironic would that be? If silken-Sally turned out to be the trainer of this dog, too?

‘I like your dog, Karl,’ Donna ventured. ‘Does he have a name?’

‘This is Starbuck,’ Karl said, his brow knitted as he concentrated his attention on his bricks. ‘He’s Karl’s friend.’

‘Dogs make good friends.’ Donna smiled. ‘I bet he thinks Karl’s a good friend, too.’

‘Yes,’ Karl said, his gaze still unwavering on his endeavours.

‘I have a dog-friend,’ Donna confided. ‘Her name is Sadie. She’s my best friend.’

Karl turned his gaze away from his bricks and reached out to stroke Starbuck. ‘Best friend,’ he said.

‘That’s a breakthrough, Donna. Well done.’ Dr Lewis smiled, sweeping by.

****

‘Donna, are you in?’ Evelyn’s tones reached her ears before Donna was through her front door.

‘Whoops, sorry, babe.’ Donna plucked up the phone, almost falling over Sadie in the process.

‘Yes, Mum, I’m in,’ she said, shrugging out of her coat and making a kissy face at her ‘best friend.’

‘I’ve been talking to Mark,’ Evelyn said, without further ado.

‘Oh.’

‘Oh, dear, do I sense a
not-open-for-discussion
note in that
oh
?’

‘I don’t want to talk about him, Mum. There’s nothing to talk about. He’s been fine in his professional capacity, but otherwise…’

Donna’s heart drooped as her mind conjured up an image of Mark, every inch a girl’s fantasy, folding Jody-kiss-kiss into his arms.

‘But I think there is, Donna,’ Evelyn hazarded. ‘I saw him with his little…’

‘No, Mum,’ Donna cut her short, ‘it’s
not
open for discussion. Sorry.’

‘But there are some things you need to know about him, Donna. I…’

‘Mum, I don’t want to know anything about him. I know enough already.’

‘But that’s just it, my lovely. You don’t. Or at least, I don’t think you do. I think I might have misjudged him. You need to speak to him, Donna. I…’

‘I don’t need to speak to him, Mum. You speak to him, if you want to, but…’

‘Give him a chance, Donna,’ Evelyn persisted. ‘Just meet up with him and have a chat, why don’t you? You’ve nothing to…’

‘Ooh, Mum!’ Donna barked. ‘He’s pregnant!

‘Jody… thingy,’ Donna explained in the stunned silence that followed, ‘and Mark, they’re, um, having a happy event.’

‘Oh,’ Evelyn said, eventually.

****

Mark snatched up the telephone. ‘Hello,’ he answered shortly. ‘Mark Ev… Karl, slow down!’

Mark sighed, despairing, as Karl backed around the coffee table for the umpteenth time, the tug-of-war with Starbuck in full swing. ‘Karl. Starbuck, Stop and… Sit and stay, Starbu…
Jesus
! Hold on.’

Mark dropped the phone and almost leapt the coffee table. Dammit, he knew this would happen. He winced as Karl lurched backwards, his head hitting the TV table with a sickening crack.

‘Okay, Karl. Okay.’ Mark dropped to his knees, gathering Karl to him, who, stunned for a second, started in on a tantrum that would probably be the mother of all tantrums.

Mark locked his arm around Karl’s upper torso, trying to assess the damage to the back of his head, which was nigh on impossible with Karl as rigid as a board, his had slamming backwards into Mark’s chest.

‘Hold still, Karl,’ Mark dropped his own head to his son’s. Please hold still, he prayed, seeing blood on his shirt and feeling the kind of panic only a parent can.

Karl bellowed. Of course he would. Mark knew he would, but when he did Mark’s heart hammered like a train. It wasn’t the raucous roar, the endless screaming that seemed to go on until Karl had got things out of his system.

He called for Starbuck.

Starbuck was there. Sitting right next to them, his tongue hanging out and a paw placed on Karl’s leg.

‘Starbuck.’ Karl cried, but whether from fright or pain, Mark couldn’t be sure. Sensory sensitivity meant Karl just didn’t feel pain the same way other people did.

‘Starbuck,’ Karl repeated. ‘Best friend.’ He held out a hand, Starbuck nuzzled it, and that’s when Mark knew — there had been a major breakthrough. He’d wondered whether Karl might be benefiting from the tactile stimulation offered by the dog. Now, he was sure.

His son was gaining comfort from the dog. Expressing emotion.

‘Best friend.’ Mark swallowed back his own overwhelming emotion and agreed wholeheartedly. ‘Come on, Starbuck,’ he said, easing Karl into his arms. ‘Let’s sit on the sofa where it’s more comfy, shall we?’

‘Yes,’ said Karl in a small voice.

Mark hadn’t thought it possible to love his son more.

But he did, right then.

****

‘Ahem,’ Matt gazed upstairs as Donna emerged from the bathroom, ‘the steak’s a bit… er, cremated. He blinked beguilingly and hugged his defenceless wrath-deflecting bunny closer to his chest.

‘Salad’s good, though,’ he offered hopefully, ‘apart from the cheese. It’s sort of… eaten. Sadie prefers Wensleydale though, for future reference.’

Donna groaned. ‘Oh, Matt, I said not to leave food near the edge of the table…’