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Authors: Joseph D'Lacey
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shotgun and placed it on the garden table. As he bent to retrieve the jackdaws, Sophie said:
“Should we call the police?”
“What can they do? Anyway, I don’t want the police up here. They’re more like government spies than peace officers. Let’s not…” Louis allowed time for Sophie to meet his eyes, “draw attention to ourselves.”
Gordon handed the dead jackdaw to his father before Sophie urged him inside and down the hall.
“Go on, birthday boy, I think you’d better wash your hands.”
When she heard the water running, she looked at Louis, tears welling.
“What can we do?”
“Nothing. Just keep on loving him and keeping him safe.”
Sophie gestured towards the dead jackdaw in Louis’s hand.
“You call this safe? We have to tell him.”
Louis stepped close, leaned forwards until their noses were almost touching.
“Put that idea out of your mind,” he whispered. “Forever. Gordon must never know.”
8
August 2009
Gordon’s bedroom light flicked on, banishing the dark and its skulking army of terrors. It also blinded him.
“You all right, son?”
It was his father’s voice.
“I think so.”
“You were… screaming. Really screaming.”
“Sorry, Dad.” Gordon could hear whispering in the hallway outside his door – Judith and mum. He spoke loud enough that they could all hear him. “I’m all right now. Just a nightmare.”
In the doorway, Louis turned to the others.
“He’s OK. You can go back to bed.”
After a few moments, two pairs of footsteps padded back along the upstairs passageway. Gordon heard the creak of bedsprings. Louis slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. He switched on the less glaring bedside lamp and turned out the main light before sitting on Gordon’s bed. He placed his palm on Gordon’s chest through the duvet.
“Getting a bit old for these bad dreams, aren’t you? You’ll be in double figures in a couple of months.”
“I can’t help it. I would if I could.”
“I know, son. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” Louis sighed. “But we worry about you, you know. Mum especially.”
“Mum worries about everything.”
Louis chuckled.
“True.”
He was silent long enough for Gordon’s eyes to adjust to the brightness. His father looked tired, eroded. Gordon ground his teeth.
“How’s everything at school?”
“It’s OK.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“No one’s… making your life difficult?”
“No, Dad. It’s fine.”
“You never bring any of your friends home. You don’t get invited to any parties.”
“I’ve got a couple of friends. They’re not like best mates or anything but they’re OK. I’m just not into the stuff the other boys are into. Football. Cars. Fighting. I’d rather be outside. At the Faraway Tree or in Covey Wood. Doing stuff in the garden with you and Mum.”
Louis was quiet for such a time that Gordon started to drift back into sleep. He came to with a start when his father spoke again.
“What, Dad?”
Louis looked over at him.
“I said, your happiness is very important to us.”
Gordon put his hand out from under the duvet and placed it over his father’s.
“I am happy, Dad. Honest.”
Louis’s face changed then, the care lines deepening, crushed closer together. He looked like he was about to say something; something adult. A secret, perhaps. Late at night and sometimes on very still days when he was in the woods or watching the crows wheel and dance in the sky above the fields, Gordon felt there was such a secret, locked away in his parents’ hearts, locked away in his own.
The moment passed and Louis’s face cleared and opened.
“You know, I had some troubles when I was your age.”
“What kind of troubles?”
“Oh… it doesn’t matter what they were. Just my concerns about life, I suppose. About growing up. I used to write all my worries down in a diary. I found it helped me. I always felt better afterwards. Would you try doing that? If you
“Should we call the police?”
“What can they do? Anyway, I don’t want the police up here. They’re more like government spies than peace officers. Let’s not…” Louis allowed time for Sophie to meet his eyes, “draw attention to ourselves.”
Gordon handed the dead jackdaw to his father before Sophie urged him inside and down the hall.
“Go on, birthday boy, I think you’d better wash your hands.”
When she heard the water running, she looked at Louis, tears welling.
“What can we do?”
“Nothing. Just keep on loving him and keeping him safe.”
Sophie gestured towards the dead jackdaw in Louis’s hand.
“You call this safe? We have to tell him.”
Louis stepped close, leaned forwards until their noses were almost touching.
“Put that idea out of your mind,” he whispered. “Forever. Gordon must never know.”
8
August 2009
Gordon’s bedroom light flicked on, banishing the dark and its skulking army of terrors. It also blinded him.
“You all right, son?”
It was his father’s voice.
“I think so.”
“You were… screaming. Really screaming.”
“Sorry, Dad.” Gordon could hear whispering in the hallway outside his door – Judith and mum. He spoke loud enough that they could all hear him. “I’m all right now. Just a nightmare.”
In the doorway, Louis turned to the others.
“He’s OK. You can go back to bed.”
After a few moments, two pairs of footsteps padded back along the upstairs passageway. Gordon heard the creak of bedsprings. Louis slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. He switched on the less glaring bedside lamp and turned out the main light before sitting on Gordon’s bed. He placed his palm on Gordon’s chest through the duvet.
“Getting a bit old for these bad dreams, aren’t you? You’ll be in double figures in a couple of months.”
“I can’t help it. I would if I could.”
“I know, son. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” Louis sighed. “But we worry about you, you know. Mum especially.”
“Mum worries about everything.”
Louis chuckled.
“True.”
He was silent long enough for Gordon’s eyes to adjust to the brightness. His father looked tired, eroded. Gordon ground his teeth.
“How’s everything at school?”
“It’s OK.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“No one’s… making your life difficult?”
“No, Dad. It’s fine.”
“You never bring any of your friends home. You don’t get invited to any parties.”
“I’ve got a couple of friends. They’re not like best mates or anything but they’re OK. I’m just not into the stuff the other boys are into. Football. Cars. Fighting. I’d rather be outside. At the Faraway Tree or in Covey Wood. Doing stuff in the garden with you and Mum.”
Louis was quiet for such a time that Gordon started to drift back into sleep. He came to with a start when his father spoke again.
“What, Dad?”
Louis looked over at him.
“I said, your happiness is very important to us.”
Gordon put his hand out from under the duvet and placed it over his father’s.
“I am happy, Dad. Honest.”
Louis’s face changed then, the care lines deepening, crushed closer together. He looked like he was about to say something; something adult. A secret, perhaps. Late at night and sometimes on very still days when he was in the woods or watching the crows wheel and dance in the sky above the fields, Gordon felt there was such a secret, locked away in his parents’ hearts, locked away in his own.
The moment passed and Louis’s face cleared and opened.
“You know, I had some troubles when I was your age.”
“What kind of troubles?”
“Oh… it doesn’t matter what they were. Just my concerns about life, I suppose. About growing up. I used to write all my worries down in a diary. I found it helped me. I always felt better afterwards. Would you try doing that? If you
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