“And there’s the staring.”
“What do you mean?”
“He stares at you as though he could see right through you. Just stares on and on. It’s unnerving.”
“Does he have any friends?”
“Not anymore. He made some at school, I think, but since he became a thief—”
“Don’t call him a thief,” Melanie said quickly.
“What else do you call a kid who steals? You do know he steals, don’t you?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to hang labels around a child’s neck,” Melanie said firmly.
Brenda shrugged. “Please yourself. But be sure to hide your things away.”
A shadow darkened the door. Melanie looked up to see Giles. “When you’ve finished settling in, Miss Haynes, perhaps you’d come down to my office.”
He departed without waiting for an answer. Melanie went down a few moments later and found him regarding her dispassionately. “Perhaps I should make it plain at the outset that your duties will not include listening to Brenda slandering my son,” he snapped.
“I think my duties include anything that will help David,” she said calmly. “And first of all that means learning all I can about his problems.”
“I can tell you everything you need to know.”
“Can you? There’s probably a lot about him you don’t know. Why not let me approach him my own way?”
He considered her thoughtfully. “Very well,” he said at last in a dismissive voice. “But I don’t want to overhear any more conversations like that.”
She was turning away, confirmed in her poor opinion of him, when he stopped her. “Miss Haynes…” There was an uncertain note in his voice that took her by surprise.
“Yes?”
“Those dusters—it was just childish mischief, wasn’t it? The sort of thing any boy of his age might do.” He was almost pleading.
“Exactly the sort of thing I did when I was a child. I told you I was the black sheep. Can you tell me where to find David?”
“In the garden.”
The garden was huge and could have been an enchanted place for a crowd of children, but it dwarfed one solitary little boy. David was sitting on a log, absently tossing sticks. Melanie was sure he detected her approach, but he refused to raise his head as she crossed the grass toward him.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully.
He continued tossing twigs, ignoring her presence.
“Do you remember me?” she persisted.
At last he raised his head to look at her silently, and she understood what Brenda had meant about his staring. “My name’s Melanie,” she said. “And I know you’re David. It’s nice to meet you properly at last.” A sudden impulse made her put out her hand, and she said, “How do you do?” as she would have done with an adult.
After watching her carefully for a moment, he took her hand. “How do you do?” he said politely.
“Has your father told you very much about me?” she asked, feeling her way by inches.
“Yes. He says it’ll be like having Mommy back, but it won’t.”
On the last words his voice rose to a sudden shout that made her flinch. She stared at him, appalled. For a moment the mask had cracked, giving her a glimpse of the rage and misery that boiled beneath. “Of course it won’t,” she said quickly. “Daddy didn’t mean that I could take Mommy’s place.” It hurt to speak of Zena as his mother but she had no time for her own feelings now. “He just meant that I’d be here if you ever needed me.”
“I don’t need you,” he said coldly. “I don’t need anyone. I don’t need Mommy or Daddy, or you or anyone.” Again there was that unnerving shout, coming out of nowhere.
“Well, perhaps you don’t,” she said, as if giving the matter serious consideration. “But maybe Daddy needs you. Have you thought of that?”
He shook his head. “Daddy doesn’t need me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m bad.”
The bald statement brought tears to her eyes. She fought them back. “Don’t call yourself bad. It isn’t true.”
“Yes, it is. Everyone says so.”
Mercifully memory came to her rescue. “I was bad, too,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “One of my teachers told my parents I was on my way to becoming a juvenile delinquent.”
“What’s a ju…ju…?”
“Juvenile delinquent? Someone who causes chaos. I did things that made that duster trick look like nothing.”
“Brenda was really mad,” he said with satisfaction.
“Yes, it’s no fun if they don’t get mad,” she agreed.
A glimmer of appreciation appeared in his eyes. “What sort of things did you used to do?”
“There was a boy in my class who used to bully anyone smaller than himself,” she recalled. “He made people’s lives a misery. I sat behind him one day and painted his hair with glue.” She chuckled. “It wouldn’t wash out. He had to cut the hair off. Of course his parents complained to mine, and I was in trouble. But it was worth it. There’s a lot of fun to be had with sticky stuff.”
He didn’t answer this, but she was pleased to notice that he was looking more cheerful. When she asked him to show her around the garden he got up at once. He was knowledgeable for a boy of his age, and talked to her about his surroundings in a way that made her start to feel hopeful.
But her mood was short-lived. After lunch she had to return to her old flat to collect a bag she’d overlooked. Brenda agreed to look after David and take him shopping with her. David too seemed happy to go shopping, which puzzled Melanie slightly, as it seemed odd for this activity to appeal to a small boy.
But she returned to find a message that she was to see Giles immediately. In his study he turned exasperated eyes on her. “You’ve only been here a day,” he snapped, “and already you’ve shown David new ways to make life hideous for the rest of us.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said blankly.
“It was you who told him how much ‘fun’ could be had with ‘sticky stuff,’ wasn’t it?”
“Oh, heavens! What’s he done?”
“Ask Brenda.”
“He
