The Secret Child (DI Amy Winter #2)(58)

Sitting up in his bed, Luka blinked away the remnants of his tears. ‘I want to go h-home . . .’ His words were engulfed by a sob.

‘Hey, come here.’ Sliding a hand around his shoulders, Deborah pulled him in for a hug. Luka liked this side of her, the kind side, the side that wanted to make everything all right. ‘I know you’re not happy, but I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe.’

Luka’s breath locked in his throat. It was the first time Deborah had admitted he was in danger. The so-called scholarship which had lured his mama in had come to an end. There were no more workshops, no music lessons, just the tests the doctor set and some contact with the orderlies. It was as if everyone was distancing themselves from him, one by one.

‘You’re such a good boy.’ Deborah rocked him gently. ‘So sweet and kind.’ Pausing, she kissed the top of his head. ‘I’ll look after you, I promise. I’ll take care of everything.’

But the words sounded ghostly on her lips, instilling fear instead of comfort. For a long while, they sat in silence, and he realised that Deborah was crying too.

He had no words to comfort her. It seemed Deborah was as unhappy as him. Was she a prisoner too? Shutting his eyes, he allowed her to hold him close. She smelled of fresh linen, like clothes drying beneath a warm summer sun. Little by little, his world felt brighter. Deborah was on his side.

Wiping her tears, she released him, her face flushed as she kept her voice low. ‘It’s only natural to feel scared, but I won’t let anyone hurt you.’ Her eyes searched his face for understanding. ‘You trust me, don’t you?’

Luka nodded. But there was something he needed to know. He asked her about the number inked on his skin, and why the markings were reserved for the very few. He had not seen Sam since their last meeting. Had he left the institution? Had something bad happened to him?

A shadow passed over Deborah’s face at the mention of the name. She exhaled a long, drawn-out breath.

‘These tablets you’re taking. They make it easier for you to study, yes?’

Sullenly, Luka nodded.

‘The more tablets you take, the better your concentration. But then the side effects increase. You understand what I mean by side effects, don’t you?’

‘The nightmares,’ Luka said, referring to the hallucinations that plagued his nights and days.

‘Amongst other things,’ Deborah said. ‘The only way we can find out what dosages are safe is by testing them.’

‘Doh-sages?’ Luka elongated the word as he memorised it. He’d heard the doctor use it but wasn’t entirely sure what it meant.

‘How many tablets you take,’ Deborah explained. But . . .’ She raised a finger. ‘There aren’t enough children in the study and that’s why the doctor pushes you too far.’

‘I hate the tablets. They’re sucky.’ Luka pouted. He hated everything these days.

‘But they’re helping so many children, especially in America. Some kids get distracted, can’t focus. Some can barely sit still. The pills help them to learn.’ She paused, cocked her head to one side as she waited until footsteps in the corridor had passed. It was Stuart, whistling some obscure tune, as he always did on his night patrols.

Deborah softened her voice, leaned in. ‘You, Sam and the other three children, you were earmarked . . .’

Confusion was etched on Luka’s face. He had an excellent knowledge of English, but he did not always understand the descriptives people used. Like the other night, when Stuart described the electrics in the institute as ‘fried’.

Deborah pursed her lips as she tried to come up with a better choice of word. ‘Not earmarked . . . you were chosen for these tests because you’re the strongest children we have. We’re doing so much good here. Think of all the children we’ve helped.’

But the words seemed like half-truths. The concern in her eyes told Luka she was holding back.

‘But Sam . . .’

‘Sam’s in hospital. He has a heart condition. He won’t be coming back.’

Luka remembered the blue tinge to his lips, the way he kept rubbing his chest.

‘Don’t worry, this will be over soon.’ Deborah glanced at him furtively. ‘I’ve got plans.’

‘For Mama too?’

Her smile warmed her face as she laid out a bright future for them both. ‘One day you’ll be living with your mother in a lovely house, and you’ll never need to worry about money again.’

Luka followed her gaze as she stared up at the ceiling and described his future life. ‘Life is hard in Russia. It’s going to be a while before it gets back on its feet. England is the best place for you now.’

‘But how?’ Luka stared, open-mouthed. His emotions were too big for him to process and he was unable to take it all in.

‘I’m working on it. Just give me a little more time. Can you do that?’

Luka nodded, absorbing her words. As she clicked off his lamp, Deborah paused to kiss him on the top of his head. ‘Feel better now?’ she said when she was standing at the door.

‘Yes,’ Luka said, giving in to the yawn that rose up in his throat. Tiredness had overcome him, now his fears and worries had been taken away. Better bread with water than cake with trouble. The old Russian proverb floated in his mind. It was easier to wait and allow Deborah to take care of things than kick up a stink and cause problems for them both. He thought of the promised phone call from his father, but the door had clicked shut. Tomorrow. He would ask her then. As he nestled under his covers, he thought who was really to blame. The doctor was an evil man. Even Deborah agreed. Perhaps she was scared of him too. Papa had once told him about karma, how people reaped what they sowed.