Over the next two weeks our website will feature the Creative Writing Competition's shortlisted finalists. The first to feature is:
Short Story Finalist
UNTO US A SON IS GIVEN
By Henrietta Edwards
‘Wheeee!’. The motorised wheelchair flashed past the window with Brett grinning and waving manically. Sophie watched it’s disappearance for a second then went back to tidying the sitting room. She was exhausted, as always. How many times had she got up last night to turn Brett over? No more or less than any other night during his whole life. She straightened her back, blanked her mind and got on with it.
Three minutes later. ‘Wheeeee!’ Brett shot past again in the other direction. Sophie tidied. Sophie hoovered. Sophie cleaned. She resisted the urge to make a cup of tea and sit down. The trouble was if she sat down, she might just never get up again. She might just close her eyes and...the telephone rang.
“Hello Sophie. It’s Jane here”. Sophie’s heart sank. Jane lived a few doors down from her and her big mistake had been to chat to Brett and be kind to him. Although Brett was nineteen, he had the mental age of an eight year old and really couldn’t tell the difference between when someone wanted to speak to him and when they didn’t. He liked Jane. He liked Jane a lot and thought that if he sat outside her house in his wheelchair, staring in her windows, then she would be happy to come out and tell him a joke or give him a biscuit, maybe both. He didn’t know that Jane was more than a little disturbed by his wheelchair vigil because she thought he was stalking her.
“Hello Jane,” said Sophie. “Brett has only been out for fifteen minutes. I’m sorry if he’s been upsetting you again but he has to have some fresh air. I’ll catch him on his way past and remind him to leave you alone”
“No, no it’s not that. He actually hasn’t been a bother today. I wondered if you had seen the people who are moving into number twenty? I don’t know who they are but they look quite rough. They have an old van heaped with stuff, dogs and kids and at least four adults. I wanted to warn you that it probably isn’t a good idea for Brett to get involved with them”.
“Oh. No I wasn’t aware that anyone was moving into that house. OK, thanks for letting me know. I’ll go and round up Brett and give him the lecture. Again.” Sophie put the phone down. She made her way outside and looked up and down the pavement but there was no sign of Brett. They were lucky to live in a reasonably quiet neighbourhood where nearly everyone knew Brett, at least by sight and most were tolerant of him. He knew that he was supposed to check in by waving through the window every so often but sometimes he got sidetracked and forgot. It wasn’t easy having a body that didn’t do what you wanted, especially when your mind was as sharp as an eight year old’s. Sophie sighed. Brett was probably at the other end of the crescent by now. Oh well, he would turn up when he was ready. She went back into the house.
She went out for another look when Brett didn’t reappear. This time she could see him in his wheelchair, sitting on the pavement. Outside number twenty. There seemed to be something going on, people shouting at each other, then the van roared off at speed. She started to walk down but suddenly Brett took off, fairly hurtling along the pavement towards her.
“Mum! Mum! You’llnever guesswhat happened! Firstthe mandragged the ladyout of the house...”
“Slow down Brett and stop shouting in the street.”
Brett’s face was alive with excitement. “Mum! The man dragged the lady out of the house”, he said more slowly. “Then he tried to make her get into the van. He put the two children in the van and then he told her to get in”.
The lady said “Get lost, you bastard, I’m not going any bloody where with you!”. Sophie wished for the umpteenth time that Brett did not have perfect recall for what people said. He could recite whole complicated exchanges verbatim, which had got him into trouble on more than one occasion. Not only did he remember all the words but Brett could also perfectly replicate voices and accents. What was an amusing party piece in company could rapidly become embarrassing when he repeated conversations that others had forgotten he had overheard.
“OK, come inside and tell me all about it”. Sophie knew that when he got this excited she was going to have to listen to him tell the story over and over, for the rest of the day.
Inside Brett recounted the whole story from start to finish, complete with what everyone said and did. The gist of it was that the man had grabbed the woman and tried to force her into the van but she broke away and ran to a neighbouring house. She screamed at the woman who answered the door to phone the police. The woman raced back to the van and wrenched open the door, shouting at the kids to get out. The man grabbed her again and threw her off before jumping into the van and racing away. The woman then flagged down a car coming down the street and told the driver to “Follow the bastard. He’s got my kids!” The drive acted like a character from an American cop show and hardly had the woman jumped into the passenger seat than he hit the accelerator and sped off.
While Sophie was making sense of all this information the distinctive noise of a police siren was heard, coming closer.
“Got to go, Mum. That’s the police” and Brett shot back out and away down the pavement to number twenty.
“Brett, come back. It’s none of your business” Sophie shouted after him in vain. She ran out after him. By the time she reached the scene, several neighbours were standing around, caught up in the unexpected drama of an otherwise mundane day. The police were trying to make a coherent story from what was being shouted at them by the remaining two adults from number twenty. Lots of threats were being made about the outcome for the kidnapper when they got their hands on him.
“Come on, Brett. This is nothing to do with you. Let the police do their job” said Sophie patting Brett on the arm.
“No, I saw it all. I can tell the police what I saw” Brett was still very animated. Another police car had drawn up behind the first and two officers got out. After a brief chat with the original officers, they approached the little audience of interested bystanders.
“Did any of you witness what happened here?” asked an officer.
“Yes, I did. I did!” said Brett, “Themandraggedtheladyoutofthehouse...”
The police officer looked around. “Anyone see what happened?” he asked.
“I did” said Brett.
The police officer barely glanced his way and moved to question a woman who though that perhaps drugs and pit bull terriers had been involved.
Sophie looked at Brett’s crestfallen face, all the excitement rapidly draining away. Her heart turned over. Maybe her son didn’t look like other nineteen year olds, maybe didn’t speak like other nineteen year olds but he was her son and he was truthful, in fact painfully truthful to the point of being unable to lie about anything. He looked at her with such pain in his eyes. He was her son and she loved him. For a second she held her breath, then...
“Excuse me”, she touched the police officer lightly on the arm. “My son witnessed everything. I think you should take a statement from him if you want to hear the truth about this incident”. She noted the scepticism in the officer’s eyes. She almost heard the voice in his head saying “What does looney tunes know”.
“He has cerebal palsy, not the plague. Don’t worry it’s not catching. He may not be able to do lots of things but one thing he can do is repeat what he sees and hears with great accuracy.” Sophie lowered her voice “Don’t look now but your prejudices are showing”.
The officer had the grace to look uncomfortable and reluctantly moved over to Brett.
He noted Brett’s name, address and age.
“Now, then Brett, in your own time, tell me what you saw”
“Themandraggedtheladyoutofthehouse...”
“As soon as I heard about the ‘see me’ creative writing competition I was really keen to be involved. For the theme ‘support’ I was inspired by the dedication and selflessness shown by a close friend in looking after her disabled son and I’m thrilled to have made it through to the final stage of the competition. I’m really looking forward to meeting the judges at the winners’ day and finding out who the overall prize winners are.”
Henrietta Edwards