Please Protect Us, page 9
It was my leg that let me down. It just didn’t have the strength to stop when I reached the end of the pavement. Instead, the bike swerved as it hit the road and I felt myself being tossed over the handlebars and my face connecting with the gritty tarmac of the road. All the air went out of me, I could hardly make a sound. And I just lay there, my face and body hurting so much but I was unable even to cry.
Then I heard the sound of running feet as one of our neighbours came rushing out of her house. Her voice was calm and reassuring as she told me to keep still for a moment.
‘Just want to make sure nothing’s broken,’ she explained as her hands went gently over my body before she helped me sit up. But I couldn’t see her face until I was sitting on the edge of the pavement and I could hear my twin’s worried voice above me.
‘He’s alright, isn’t he? He’s going to be OK?’
‘Yes, Ryan. Now if you want to help, ride back to your house. Carefully, mind. Tell your mum Phil’s had a bit of an accident and I’m bringing him back, alright? His face will need a bit of attention, but faces heal quickly.’
She smiled at me. ‘You’re going to have rather a big bruise, Phil. Now let’s get you standing.’ And her arms went under mine as she helped me up.
Once I was on my feet, I could feel how much my face was smarting and I felt blood trickling down it. I almost welcomed that pain – it took my mind off everything else.
‘No more cycling for you today,’ our neighbour said. ‘I’ll wheel it back and you just grab my other arm.’ And slowly, one step at a time, we made our way back to our house.
After Mum had thanked the neighbour profusely and I was seated in the kitchen, she took my face in her hand. ‘Better get it cleaned up. You’ve taken a layer of skin off that side,’ she said as she bathed it in a mix of warm water and Dettol, which really stung. When she was satisfied that she had removed all the dirt, she gently patted some antiseptic cream on my grazes, which made my face burn again. ‘Best you rest now,’ she told me. ‘At least you’re brave,’ she added gently. ‘No tears.’
There were, she just couldn’t see them: they were trapped inside me.
21
Ryan
The ringing of the doorbell was a sound I had grown to hate. Except for Clive and Maureen, most of our visitors came straight in through the back door and into the kitchen.
All night, I had tossed and turned. I had dreamt of something that had imprisoned me. I couldn’t move and all around me was darkness. My hands grasped the sheets that were twisted around my body. I tried to smooth them a little and then I felt my stomach surge as I remembered that Clive was coming. I could hear Phil muttering in his sleep and wondered if he too was a captive in his dream or whether it was because his face was hurting.
From the moment I got out of bed my nerves had been jangling at the thought of seeing Clive again. And when the bell rang, I knew he was just outside our front door, waiting to be let in. I could hear them chattering away as soon as Mum opened the door to them.
And then they were in the room.
‘So, how are my little men?’ were the first words that he spoke as he entered the room before doing his usual hair ruffling. Both Phil and I had to force ourselves not to duck out of his reach. I had noticed the word ‘my’ even if no one else had – maybe he felt he owned us now.
‘And goodness, what’s this one been up to?’ he asked, pointing at Phil. ‘Been in a fight, have you? Well, what’s the other one look like then?’ he said with a laugh.
‘He fell off his bike, he was going too fast,’ Mum explained. ‘They’ve been looking forward to seeing you, haven’t you, boys?’ she told him brightly, glancing in our direction.
I wonder even then if she guessed that for some reason we weren’t.
‘Yes,’ I managed to say, feeling a tide of red creeping up my neck.
His hands gave each of our shoulders a squeeze, ‘And it’s good to see both of you too.’
What Mum and Dad would have seen was a benevolent uncle, what I saw was a certain level of complacency in his face. We obviously hadn’t talked. But then, he had been pretty sure we wouldn’t.
Mum disappeared into the kitchen, with Maureen following her, saying, ‘I’ll give you a hand.’
‘Got some good photos of our trip,’ said Clive, placing them on the table. ‘Look, boys, there’s a couple of you at the farm.’ And he passed them over to us. In them, we actually appeared happy. But then we had enjoyed seeing the animals up close.
When Mum came back in, carrying a tray, she placed it down and picked a couple of photos up and smiled. For most of that afternoon remarks like, ‘Oh, I remember that and what a lovely day it was,’ rang in my ears.
I just wished we could make an excuse and disappear.
Later, we all ate together. The spare room was made up and I just prayed he would stay in it.
He didn’t.
In he came, a finger to his lips, telling us to be quiet as he woke each of us up. I had my sheet pulled up to my chin as I waited to see what he was going to do this time.
‘Is your face still sore then, Phil?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I heard my brother say.
Not that Clive needed to ask that. Phil’s bruise, which covered most of one side of his face, had turned a dull yellow and his eye still hadn’t fully opened with all the swelling.
‘Well, we’d better wait for it to heal, hadn’t we?’ he said gently as he tucked Phil’s bedding in.
At this, I gulped. Was that really it? Had he only come into our room to say goodnight?
A question that was answered the moment he straightened up. The expression on his face when he glanced in my direction told me it wasn’t.
I must have looked like a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights. One that was too scared to move when he sat on the edge of my bed and smiled. Still I said nothing, not even when he took hold of one corner of the sheet and pulled it down to my chest.
‘Lie down now, Ryan.’
I could feel my teeth rattling with fear and I felt I had no other choice but to obey him. I knew Phil was not going to sleep but was lying stiffly in his bed, only too aware of what was happening. He would have seen that hand darting under the bedclothes and heard him whispering in my ear of what he wanted to do. Like me, he would have heard the sound of Clive’s breathing as it grew heavier while he worked on my body. And I’m sure he must have noticed what I saw next: Clive’s other hand stroking the front of his trousers.
But I didn’t hear a sound coming from Phil – I guess fear was making him hold his breath. He no doubt did not believe that Clive was going to keep his word and leave him alone.
For once he did, though.
He straightened up and patted me on my shoulder.
‘Sleep tight, Ryan.’
And then with that mocking smile on his face, he left our room.
I heard my brother climbing out of his bed as soon as he was sure that Clive had gone.
‘Are you alright?’ he whispered.
I couldn’t bring myself to speak, not even when I felt his small hand take hold of mine. And I knew he wanted to comfort me as he sat on the floor, his head leaning against my bed. I felt a sob coming up from my chest.
‘Go back to bed,’ were the only words I could manage then.
That was the first time since I was a baby that I wet my bed.
* * *
When I realised in the morning that I was lying in a wet patch, I felt even more shame – if that were possible. Phil helped me wash and turn my mattress before we managed to make up the bed again.
‘Don’t want Mum to see it,’ I told him just before the tears I could not stop began spilling out of my eyes. ‘I mean, what would she think? She’d be angry. It’s not as though we’re little boys now.’
But we were, weren’t we?
22
Ryan
To mine and Phil’s relief, Warren had offered to babysit so that Clive could take our parents out for dinner.
‘You two OK?’ he asked us later that evening when he had watched us pushing our food around our plates. ‘You both seem a little down.’
And all I can ask myself now is why did we not tell him then what our problem was? He was our big brother, wasn’t he? The one who had always looked out for us.
Looking back, I suppose it was that dirty secret as we both saw it, one locked away so tightly, we were incapable of unlocking it.
Clive did not come near either of us that night. Just wished us ‘Goodnight and see you in the morning’ before Mum whisked us both up the stairs to bed.
After breakfast, which we all sat down to eat at the table, he and Maureen left.
‘Long drive, need to complete some paperwork,’ was his excuse.
Phil and I had to put up with hugs and the kisses on top of our heads before picking up their small suitcase to carry it out to the car. Then Clive uttered the words that made me quake: ‘Be good to have you over when the boys have their next break from school. Only a few weeks away now, isn’t it? God, teachers have it easy, alright! Not like hardworking guys like you, John. Thought we could hire a boat and go out on the river.’
The next words I heard came from Mum: ‘Oh, that would be so lovely, Clive.’
More laughter and then I heard a welcome sound – the click of the front door closing behind them.
23
Ryan
I could not rid my mind of that invitation hanging over our heads. Inside, I felt such shame. Shame I could not see a way out of what we were enduring and shame that I was unable to protect Phil.
At school, my mind would drift off as images of Clive came into my head. Often, I would not even hear the teacher’s question until it was repeated, along with stern remarks about daydreaming. I also felt my temper rise at the least little thing, something else I knew I had to try and control.
Even though Clive had not made any arrangements to visit again, I knew he was just waiting for us to walk back into his lair. As the days grew warmer, Mum asked me to encourage Phil to ride his bike, because over the weeks since his accident, he still appeared reluctant to do so.
‘Come on, Phil,’ I said more than once. ‘It’s sunny outside, let’s get our bikes out.’
I hated seeing the doleful expression on his face when he just shook his head. Phil, who until then always had a cheerful disposition and picked himself up nearly every time something had upset him, appeared incapable of it now.
Mum still seemed to think that it was only his fall that had affected him and finally put her foot down.
‘Phil, stop this nonsense right now! You know the bike helps strengthen your leg and makes you walk better, doesn’t it?’ Not that she waited for a reply before she said very firmly, ‘You go with Ryan now, just don’t go too fast and you’ll be fine.’
What Mum didn’t say was that she had noticed his leg dragging more again and his left arm was also weaker. I had also noticed him stumbling more. The difference was I understood what his problem was: the same one that was mine. His mind was just as full of the images of Clive coming into our room. I heard him crying out in the night and I knew he was being tormented in his sleep as well as his waking hours.
I had dreams too; I dreamt that a dark figure was crouching over me. In my dreams, I could even feel his hands weighing heavily on my stomach. My eyes would fly open as I sat up and then I felt the relief when I realised it was only a dream and that there was no one in our room except for Phil’s small body huddled up in his bed.
Mum did show some concern and she asked me if anything had upset him at school.
The truthful answer to that was, ‘No, I don’t think so.’
I waited to see if she would ask more questions and try to get to the root of his behaviour, but she left it at that. She turned to me instead for her next observation: ‘And you, Ryan, you can’t fool me. I know you’ve had a couple of little accidents. Had too much cocoa to drink before you went to bed, perhaps?’
I waited again for some more searching questions, but instead she provided her own answer after I had managed to say, ‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘These things happen,’ was all she said. And although they happened several more times over the weeks leading up to our summer holidays, all she did was put a plastic covering over the mattress. The only question she asked me then was did I have bad dreams and I wondered if she had heard me calling out in my sleep. When I replied somewhat vaguely, her only comment was to say maybe I should stop looking at Leighton’s comics if they were disturbing me.
Of course, I’ve wondered over the years why did she not put two and two together, or talk to the doctor. I like to believe now that it was just naivety. Abuse was not really a talked-about subject then whereas now nightmares and bedwetting would have rung more than one alarm.
24
Ryan
Since our holiday and Clive’s visits there was no getting away from the fact that there were some changes in Phil, and not for the better. Despite everything that went against him and his constant struggle to overcome his difficulties, he had always been a pretty happy-go-lucky boy. One who chattered away, not bothered that it was only me who could completely understand him. And that infectious laugh of his made us all smile. But within a couple of months he was becoming just the opposite. His chatter was drying up more and more each day and we seldom heard him laugh.
I knew my brother’s deterioration both in speech and movements was noticed, not just by our brothers, but our teachers as well. Not that they were aware of his restless sleep, the bad dreams he had and the whimpers I heard coming from him in the night. I never told anyone about the times I went over to his bed to waken him from his nightmare.
‘It’s just a nasty dream,’ I would say when he looked up at me with frightened eyes.
On those nights, I would tell him that everything was alright – that there was only us in the room. I might have tried to shrug off the thoughts of Clive molesting us, but I did not succeed for long. When I met up with my friends, I was able to push it to the back of my mind though.
Phil was unable to do that.
I noticed that his leg had started dragging more and his speech was almost as bad as when he first started speech therapy. If Mum noticed too, she said little. Warren was the first person to mention it to me. When he came round to see us, he caught my eye and jerked his head towards the garden, which was his way of saying he wanted to talk to me out of earshot. He asked if I knew what was bothering Phil for he was convinced there was something upsetting him.
‘Has there been more bullying at school?’ he asked.
‘No, I haven’t seen any. They’ve got used to him now.’
‘Anything else you can think of?’
I swallowed before saying, ‘I think his leg still bothers him.’
‘Well, it’s a nice day, so come on, I’ll take you both to the park. That will cheer him up.’
Patting my shoulder, he went into the house to tell Phil we were going out.
25
Phil
Warren was right: I loved going to the park, being put on the swings and having him push me until I felt I was flying right up to the sky. Or that’s what I was able to imagine when I leant back and gazed up at it.
I knew everyone was concerned about me, but there was nothing I could do about it. The thought of spending a week in Clive’s house was tormenting me almost every hour of the day. All I could think of was him. He would wait until Mum and Dad and, I suppose, Maureen were all tucked in bed and then come into our room to do things I couldn’t even put a name to. It wasn’t just his face I could see in my mind, but those long-fingered hands of his, so smooth, with such neatly trimmed wide nails, that I hated the thought of him touching my body. They were so different from Dad’s, which at weekends showed grime-rimmed nails after a day working on the engine of the van. And unlike Clive’s, they bore the roughness of hard manual work.
I understood why Ryan wanted to talk to me about what was happening between Clive and us. After all, it was only the two of us who knew the truth about him. But I couldn’t. If I did, I was frightened I would see him even more clearly, hear the sounds he made louder and smell his musty scent all over again. More than that, even letting him into my mind made me feel dirty and ashamed. I just knew that if I uttered a word about his visits to our room, I would feel even worse. And my body would ache even more. There were times when I wanted to explain those thoughts to Ryan. In my mind, I said to him, ‘I would feel even more miserable if I talked to you about it, wouldn’t you as well? Just thinking about it hurts me inside, it really hurts. Don’t you feel the same?’
Even that I could not manage to articulate.
But most of those anxieties slid away a little when I heard the word ‘park’. It was enough to make me smile up at my big brother. He would take me to the swings and while on them for just for a short while, I managed to feel like a normal little boy. Back on the ground though, I was aware of that dragging leg that people saw. I knew some pitied me and others thought my mind was as weak as my leg was. A fact that since I had begun school, I had managed to cope with.
Apart from the park, the only other place where I could forget Clive was when I went for my hydrotherapy. Water, I had found, since the first time I was immersed in it, had a really peaceful and calming effect. Ever since I had been going for that type of exercise, together with riding my bike, I had felt the muscles in my leg grow stronger. I can still remember the first time Mum left my buggy at home and I managed to walk the whole way to school. I felt such a glow of happiness then. My teacher looked almost as pleased as I was when he came to the gates and saw me standing there.
