Blood Family by Anne Fine Read Free Book Online Page A

begun to call ‘The Wit and Wisdom of Mr P’.
    After a couple of weeks, I dared take Eddie swimming. He’d never been, and one of my jobs is to ease these children into normal life. They have to know the things the others know, or there’s no hope of ever making and keeping friends. So I did what I usually do – borrowed a smaller child to give us an excuse for keeping to the toddler pool.
    We took Marie, from next door. She’s only two years old, but she is sturdy. And watching Marie gave him confidence. Again, you could see Eddie thinking, ‘If she’s OK . . .’ And after he had sat for a while scrunched in a ball on the side, getting used to the echoing noise and the splashing, and the sheer height of the glassed roof, he dared to slide his feet into the water and stand up. I think he was astonished it only came halfway up to his knees. He paddled further down the slope, survived his first splashed drops from two more toddlers having a water fight, and made it over to me.
    Marie reached out for him, but it turned out to be more of a push than a clutch. He staggered backwards, losing his balance in the shallow water enough to have tosit down. But once he realized that the water still came up no deeper than a bath, he was away. Before we left, even on that first day, Eddie was spending most of his time on his stomach, ferrying himself across the baby pool with his hands, pretending to swim.
    I didn’t know how long we’d have him. Sometimes that can depend on when the child sees a psychologist. And if there’s any possibility of giving evidence in court, that often gets delayed in case the defence starts arguing that ideas have been put in the child’s mind. So I was really waiting for Rob to let me know. I’d used the standard grant to take him shopping for clothes. He was entranced. Usually we encourage them to make their own choices, but that didn’t work with Eddie. He only wanted things like Thomas the Tank Engine shirts, and other baby stuff that would have had him shredded at the local primary school. He hadn’t learned that pink is social death for boys. I had to be quite firm.
    So in the end we compromised with suitable stuff for daytime, but Thomas pyjamas. He loved the things so much that I went back the following week to get another pair. But even in the largest size, they were too short. ‘You’re soft, you are,’ said Alan, when he saw me sewing extra strips onto the legs and sleeves to lengthen them.
    But I’d have sold my soul for Eddie. I had fallen in love.
    (They warn you about that when you sign on.)
Eddie
    The first time Linda mentioned it, we were sitting at the table, the way we did every day. Her hand had closed round mine to make sure I was holding the pencil the way she said was best – ‘No, Eddie. Like that . And now make me a capital S, just like a lovely curled snake. Yes, that’s right! Perfect!’
    I was so happy. And then she suddenly made her voice go all casual, and out it came. ‘By the way, I was thinking about your mum last night. The bruises on her leg must have gone now. Maybe she’s feeling better. Would you like me to talk to Rob about fixing up a visit?’
    I didn’t trust myself to answer so I shook my head.
    She kept on, trying to persuade me. ‘She’d probably be really pleased to see how well your writing’s coming on.’
    I knew that Linda didn’t really think that. I knew what they all thought because I listened all the time. Up on the landing. At doors. I acted good. I was good. But I still had two ears that worked, and wasn’t stupid. From the day of that first hammering on the door, I’d overheard all sorts of things that people said about my mum, whispering in corridors or talking quietly on phones – ‘in no fit state to defend the child’, ‘probably too scared to testify’, ‘under that bastard’s thumb’ – until I knew full well that everyone thought that she was useless. Useless .
    But I could remember back when we played the