Chapter 5
Small Pitchers Have Wide Ears
When Nigel arrived home, he was sweaty and out of breath and
completely bewildered. It was unthinkable. He had run away from
Harry. Grownups would have said he'd done the right thing, the boy
told himself, if what Mr. Patel had said was true, and why would Mr.
"Hello, dear," Mummy said, looking up from the kitchen table as her
son unlatched the door and crept in, "Another bad day? Haven't you
and Evan made up yet?"
Nigel shook his head.
"I'm so sorry dear. Go up stairs and play with your toys and you'll
feel better. You'll see."
But Nigel didn't want to go upstairs and play. Instead, he went into
the parlour and sank down into the divan there in silent despair,
absent-mindedly turning the pages of his Curious George book, not
reached the end, he started again.
Presently, he was aware of a knocking and of Mummy opening the front
door.
"Oh, Angela. Would you mind? Do you suppose we could talk for a bit?"
It was Mrs. Ethridge, and she sounded upset.
"Certainly, Phyllis. Come in."
Nigel sunk further down into the divan. Clearly she'd come to
complain about him knocking them up. He continued turning Curious
George pages, his eyes not reading the words nor seeing the pictures,
but his ears acutely tuned to the voices in the kitchen.
"What's wrong, Phyllis?" Nigel heard Mummy ask, "Sit down. Would you
like a cup?"
"Oh, thank you, yes," Nigel heard Mrs. Ethridge reply, and then there
was the sound of a chair being moved.
There was a clinking of saucers as Mummy poured the tea.
"What's bothering you?" he heard Mummy ask, and Nigel braced for the
worst.
"Surely you've read about that horrible therapist in the papers," Mrs.
Mrs. Ethridge could only hold a napkin to her nose and nod.
"I'm so sorry, Phyllis!"
And to Nigel their tone sounded as if Evan had died.
problem, so they said," Mrs. Ethridge began haltingly, and then
managed to joke, "Though I've never seen him have a problem..."
And she gave a weak laugh.
"Of course, when Bill and I saw the article in the paper," she went
talked and finally decided to ask Evan about it. So on Monday, we
took Evan out of class. We asked him there at the headmaster's
office. He didn't want to tell us. After all, can you blame him? But
he finally did."
"Well," Angela said breathlessly, "Then what happened?"
"I'd never seen Bill so angry! I dare say he would have beaten the man
senseless if he'd had a chance. He kept threatening to drive into
intend to storm the precinct for Christ's sake? And all through it
Evan was crying and crying."
"It must have been horrible."
"But that's not the worst, Angela," the distraught woman continued,
"Bill called the authorities. The Child Welfare and the police
and he's so upset he keeps changing his story. Now he doesn't want to
go to school. He thinks the other kids treat him differently. He
nightmares. I just don't know what to do anymore! That monster
ruined him! I just want my little boy back again."
The two women sat at the table in silence for a time, Angela rubbing
Phyllis' arm as she composed herself.
that bastard!"
"Are you certain that he actually molested Evan?" Angela suggested
hopefully, "You said he kept changing his story."
"Oh, Angela," Phyllis replied, shaking her head, "There's no doubt.
I've never seen him so distressed."
"Well," Angela sighed, "Nigel had gone to see that same therapist once
Evening News, we asked Nigel if Ian had molested him, and Nigel told
"Nigel told you nothing happened?"
off the table and went into the lavvie."
"I don't know," Mrs. Ethridge replied dubiously, "Was he upset when
you talked to him?"
praised him for telling us."
"I hate to say it, but perhaps you should ask him again."
"Well," Angela protested, "Why wouldn't Nigel want to tell the truth?"
"That's what we wondered about Evan."
HMSVV Christmas 2011
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
|
|