with his homework. But I didn't mind that. I plied him with crisps and fizzy drinks and had endless patience and jokes; it was easy when I only had him for a few hours.
We would sit at the table, his head bent over his work, his face in an almost comical grimace as he tried to work out a maths problem, the curve of his cheek still so smooth and as round as a child's.
A child's.
Brian started to become concerned, of course. I knew he would.
"You're spending a rather lot of time with that boy," he commented one evening over dinner. "Don't you mind it?" He looked curious and just a bit suspicious.
"No, not really. I'm glad to help and the afternoons get a bit dull, you know."
"You could take on more work."
I looked up and met his stare levelly. "I'm fine," I said. "I'm fine."
One afternoon about a month after he started coming everyday Jamie asked me, "Do you have any children, Mrs. D?"
He called me Mrs. D. instead of Mrs. Dunning. I found I quite liked it.
For a moment I imagined what was going through his mind; blurred images of adult children who existed quite separately from the house he knew, the me he knew.
I imagined those children, as I had many times before.
"No, Jamie," I said quietly. "They never came along in the end."
He shifted uncomfortably, and I knew he'd never expected such an innocent question to reveal the complications and disappointments that seemed to have littered my life.
I'm not sure when it all started to change, to shift imperceptibly. Perhaps it had started the first day I asked him in; perhaps later, when I told Alix I'd mind him in the afternoons; perhaps even later than that.
I remember one afternoon when he complained that his mum didn't let him surf the internet on his own. "She's so unfair," he said, kicking at his chair legs, and I opened my mouth to defend her and then quite suddenly, didn't.
I remained silent, smiling slightly as I pointed to the next homework problem, and I felt his curiosity like a physical thing. I hadn't acted as he'd expected me to.
It happened again, of course. He told me of a program on telly he wasn't allowed to watch. I could tell he was testing me, and I failed--or passed, depending on how you looked at it--spectacularly.
"Then we just won't say anything, shall we?" I said with a finger pressed to my lips.
Confusion and delight passed over his face like sunshine half-covered by cloud.
The comments came more regularly then, and I would only smile or laugh a little when he said them. "I like it here," he might announce, stuffing his third biscuit into his mouth, or, "Your house is nicer than mine."
Innocent, childish comments, but I treasured them.
It was all made easier when Alix started to date someone at work... Darren? Derek? I'm not sure.
Two evenings a week Jamie had dinner with us, and soon it made sense for Brian to take an interest. He invited Jamie to come to the rugby on Saturday, and of course Alix was grateful, so grateful for our kindly, neighborly concern.
"You're both so wonderful," she said. "And he loves the rugby... things are quite... busy... at the moment."
"I'm sure they are," I soothed. "Really, it's no problem."
We fell into a comfortable routine; Jamie with me every weekday afternoon, and with Brian on Saturday for the rugby. One evening Alix tentatively asked if Jamie could spend the night.
"I'm... taking a little break," she confessed with a blush, and I smiled understandingly.
"Of course, we'd love to have him."
As she walked away I felt a sudden, scalding rage quite at odds with anything I'd felt before, and certainly something different than the preening satisfaction I'd felt at her suggestion. I watched her return to her dingy, darkened house, and felt a fury rush through me, a fury fueled by vindication.
I wasn't taking him, I thought then, she was giving him to me.
In a flurry I redid our spare bedroom, which had always been rather colorless. When he arrived, looking a bit forlorn and uncertain, I beamed
We would sit at the table, his head bent over his work, his face in an almost comical grimace as he tried to work out a maths problem, the curve of his cheek still so smooth and as round as a child's.
A child's.
Brian started to become concerned, of course. I knew he would.
"You're spending a rather lot of time with that boy," he commented one evening over dinner. "Don't you mind it?" He looked curious and just a bit suspicious.
"No, not really. I'm glad to help and the afternoons get a bit dull, you know."
"You could take on more work."
I looked up and met his stare levelly. "I'm fine," I said. "I'm fine."
One afternoon about a month after he started coming everyday Jamie asked me, "Do you have any children, Mrs. D?"
He called me Mrs. D. instead of Mrs. Dunning. I found I quite liked it.
For a moment I imagined what was going through his mind; blurred images of adult children who existed quite separately from the house he knew, the me he knew.
I imagined those children, as I had many times before.
"No, Jamie," I said quietly. "They never came along in the end."
He shifted uncomfortably, and I knew he'd never expected such an innocent question to reveal the complications and disappointments that seemed to have littered my life.
I'm not sure when it all started to change, to shift imperceptibly. Perhaps it had started the first day I asked him in; perhaps later, when I told Alix I'd mind him in the afternoons; perhaps even later than that.
I remember one afternoon when he complained that his mum didn't let him surf the internet on his own. "She's so unfair," he said, kicking at his chair legs, and I opened my mouth to defend her and then quite suddenly, didn't.
I remained silent, smiling slightly as I pointed to the next homework problem, and I felt his curiosity like a physical thing. I hadn't acted as he'd expected me to.
It happened again, of course. He told me of a program on telly he wasn't allowed to watch. I could tell he was testing me, and I failed--or passed, depending on how you looked at it--spectacularly.
"Then we just won't say anything, shall we?" I said with a finger pressed to my lips.
Confusion and delight passed over his face like sunshine half-covered by cloud.
The comments came more regularly then, and I would only smile or laugh a little when he said them. "I like it here," he might announce, stuffing his third biscuit into his mouth, or, "Your house is nicer than mine."
Innocent, childish comments, but I treasured them.
It was all made easier when Alix started to date someone at work... Darren? Derek? I'm not sure.
Two evenings a week Jamie had dinner with us, and soon it made sense for Brian to take an interest. He invited Jamie to come to the rugby on Saturday, and of course Alix was grateful, so grateful for our kindly, neighborly concern.
"You're both so wonderful," she said. "And he loves the rugby... things are quite... busy... at the moment."
"I'm sure they are," I soothed. "Really, it's no problem."
We fell into a comfortable routine; Jamie with me every weekday afternoon, and with Brian on Saturday for the rugby. One evening Alix tentatively asked if Jamie could spend the night.
"I'm... taking a little break," she confessed with a blush, and I smiled understandingly.
"Of course, we'd love to have him."
As she walked away I felt a sudden, scalding rage quite at odds with anything I'd felt before, and certainly something different than the preening satisfaction I'd felt at her suggestion. I watched her return to her dingy, darkened house, and felt a fury rush through me, a fury fueled by vindication.
I wasn't taking him, I thought then, she was giving him to me.
In a flurry I redid our spare bedroom, which had always been rather colorless. When he arrived, looking a bit forlorn and uncertain, I beamed
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