Silent Child(19)

“What? Different? Yes, it was, because you had lost a son and he abandoned you when you were at your most vulnerable. You know, sometimes I think you have a short memory because you’ve forgotten how bad it got.”

“I haven’t forgotten, trust me.” I couldn’t help it; my eyes dropped from his gaze and I tried not to think about that time. I stared hopelessly at my tea, wishing the memories away, wishing they’d slip into a black hole.

“I picked up those pieces, Emma.”

“I know.”

“It’s not something I regret. Having you in my life has been the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I mean it. I really do.”

“But it’s not just me anymore,” I said. “I come with baggage. I come with a son who is back from the dead. That’s just how my life is.” I felt a manic giggle rise up, threatening to spill out, but I managed to keep myself under control. I glanced across at two elderly women stirring their tea. This wasn’t the time or the place to lose it.

He sighed and reached across the table to take my hands. “I love you, more than anything. You, the baby, and now Aiden, are my family, and no one hurts my family.”





10


Aiden stepped out of the x-ray unit with the same blank expression as before. I don’t know what I’d been hoping for. Tears? A big, silly grin? Giggles? I glanced from him to Rob and saw his grim expression.

“How’s my brave boy?” I asked, hating the way my voice sounded far too cheerful, far too forced. Far too patronising. I rubbed one hand with the other, alternating between the two: a nervous habit I picked up after Aiden disappeared.

“He did very well,” answered Dr Schaffer.

But when Rob wouldn’t meet my eyes, my stomach flipped over with nerves. There was a moment of silence as we stood in a crowd in the sterile hospital corridor. I hated this silence. I just wanted to hear my son speak, and though I was trying my best to remain patient, I could already feel the frustration bubbling up inside me, like a pan simmering away.

“We’re taking him back to his room to get comfy and then we’ll have another chat,” said the doctor, his tone inciting a creeping sense of dread to spread over my skin.

After Aiden was settled into his room, Dr Schaffer took us back into the corridor and explained the results of the x-ray in his matter-of-fact and professional doctor’s voice.

“The results confirmed what I expected. There’s an old fracture line in the ankle, at the lateral malleolus. But that break has healed well. I think he may have received treatment for it, in fact.”

“He was taken to a hospital?” I asked.

“It’s difficult to tell without seeing the original injury. Aiden may have been treated privately by the person who took him. I wouldn’t like to say for sure.”

“What does that mean for him, in terms of the future?” I asked.

“He may experience some stiffness in his ankle. He might have a slight limp.”

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying not to think of Aiden trapped in some cage, chained like a dog, in pain from the break in his ankle. Did he do it trying to escape? Did his kidnapper hurt him? Did the kidnapper give him any painkillers? I wanted to disconnect the traumatised boy in the hospital room from the little baby I gave birth to and nurtured, but I couldn’t.

“Was there anything else?” I asked. “Are there any more breaks?” Did he beat him? Was my little boy raped and beaten over and over again?

“No,” Dr Schaffer said. “I know that doesn’t sound like good news given the circumstances but I really think it is. The ankle break seems to be the most significant evidence of injury.”

So he wasn’t beaten, at least not to the point of broken bones. That didn’t rule out bruises. His kidnapper still could have pushed his thumbs into my son’s tender flesh, hurting him until he screamed. That could still have happened, let’s not forget that. I was living in a reality where news that my son only suffered one broken bone at the mercy of a sadistic kidnapper was good news.

Dr Schaffer informed us that the child psychologist would be meeting with us after Aiden had a rest before leaving us waiting outside the room in the corridor.

“What happened in there, Rob?” I asked as soon as the doctor was out of hearing range.

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Absolutely nothing. Aiden didn’t say a word. He didn’t react. He sort of flinched a bit when they touched him but there was nothing—no tears, no screams.” He clenched his jaw and pressed his fist against the wall of the corridor. “I can’t fucking believe all this. Someone chained up my son and left him there with his ankle busted. Fucking…”

A nurse walked past and raised her eyebrow at Rob, who was still pushing his knuckles against the wall. I flashed her a quick smile and placed my hand on Rob’s shoulder.

“Hey,” I said. “You can’t lose it. Not here. We’re all dealing with this. Stay strong for Aiden.”

Rob sighed and rested his forehead against the wall. He was always someone who reacted in big, dramatic ways, though this time it didn’t feel over-dramatic. There wasn’t an over-dramatic way to deal with the events of the last two days.

“Sorry, I…”

“I know.” I rubbed his shoulder a little, trying to ignore the way Jake was watching me. “Small steps. We’re here for Aiden. He’ll come round, Rob, I know he will. He won’t stay like this forever.” But after saying those words I tried to swallow and my throat was bone dry. My eyes stung and I was tired all over. I was too exhausted to believe it.