Cage of Bones

Dr Ubha went straight up to the boy. On seeing her approach, he forgot the drip and, eyes brimming with panic and fear, grabbed her arms to fight her off. Anni had been at her side in an instant, ready to assist, but the doctor, sensing that the boy’s reaction was born of terror rather than aggression, had pulled away from him and stepped back. Once she did that, his hands had dropped.

Seeing he had no means of escape through the door with the three women there, he had backed himself up against the headboard of the bed, tried to push himself through it. Gasping and sobbing as he did so. But, Anni had noticed, there was no violence. And he hadn’t spoken. Just the staring. And silence.

Realising he wasn’t going to attack again, Anni exchanged a glance with Marina and moved forward, making to sit in the chair beside the bed. The child pushed himself even further back, whimpering once more, trembling now in fear. Eyes moving from staring at nothing to being directly on Anni. She stopped, chilled when they met hers. She had come across people in distress through her work, on an almost daily basis. But she had never encountered such depths of terror in anyone. She flinched inwardly, not wanting to think about what the boy had seen, experienced.

‘OK… ’ Eyes averted from his, she backed off. Took a chair from behind her and slowly brought it up to the bottom of the bed. The boy didn’t take his eyes off her all the time she was moving. She sat. Looked at him. Managed to smile.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m Anni. What’s your name?’

Nothing.

‘You do have a name, don’t you?’

Nothing. Just those eyes, that stare…

Anni could cope with traumatised women, rape victims, abused wives, but children were a blind spot. She had been trained to deal with them and always followed her training, but it wasn’t something that came naturally to her. Usually she found something she could relate to, some shared commonality on which to start a dialogue, build a relationship. It could be anything from difficulties with siblings or school to football or even Doctor Who. Anything. But it was all book-learned, not natural. And he kept staring at her. Those eyes… Maybe if she had children of her own. That might be different. But she didn’t, and although her sister had a couple, she lived in Wales and they weren’t close.

She felt another chair being pulled up next to her. Marina sat down. Anni immediately felt more relaxed.

Marina smiled at the boy. ‘Hello.’

Anni didn’t know how she had managed it, but something in Marina’s smile connected with the boy. He didn’t reply, but neither did he look as scared as he had done.

‘I’m Marina.’ She gave another smile. If she had seen the depths of fear in his eyes, thought Anni, she wasn’t letting it show. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t have to remember all these names. How are you feeling? Do you hurt anywhere?’

The boy forgot his need to escape and shifted slightly as if testing his body in response to the question. He held up his bandaged hand.

‘Yes, you’ve broken your fingers. But they’ll mend.’

He still didn’t speak, but he didn’t express any great discomfort either. He looked at the tube going into the back of his hand. Frowned. Moved his other hand towards it.

‘I think it’s better if you leave that where it is,’ Marina said, her voice calm and warm yet authoritative. ‘It’s feeding you. Making you big and strong.’

The boy’s hand fell back.

‘It’s a little bit uncomfortable. But it’ll make you feel a lot better, I promise you.’ Another smile. Reassuring. ‘That’s better.’ Marina leaned forward towards the boy, not threatening his space, just showing she was interested in him. ‘Now, I’ve told you my name, Marina, why don’t you tell me yours?’

The boy’s eyes darted between the three women.

‘We’re not going to hurt you. But it would be nice if I knew what to call you, don’t you think?’

Again the boy’s eyes darted. But this time the fear seemed to be lessening. Like he was deciding whether he could trust them or not. He began moving his mouth. At first Anni took it for another unconscious fear response, but she quickly realised that he was trying to form sounds, words.

She waited, hardly daring to move, while the boy’s mouth twisted.

‘Fff… ’ His front teeth looked rotten, painful as he placed them on his lower lip, tried to make a sound. ‘Fff… Ffinnn… ’

They waited. He offered nothing more.

‘Finn?’ said Marina. ‘You’re called Finn?’

Another glance between the three of them. Then a small nod of the head.

Anni let out a breath she was unaware of holding. She stole a glance at Marina, saw a glint of joy, triumph in her eye.

‘Well hello, Finn,’ said Marina, still smiling. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

The boy seemed to relax slightly. His mouth kept twisting, trying to form more words, or just repeat the same one.

‘Ffinn… Finn… ’

‘Very good,’ said Marina, an encouraging teacher. ‘So where are you from, Finn?’

More tortuous mouth-twisting. ‘Thhh… Gahh… denn… ’

Anni and Marina stole a glance at each other. ‘The… Garden?’ said Marina. ‘Is that where you’re from?’

Another nervous look between the pair of them, then a nod.

The Garden, thought Anni. Her mind was immediately working. Checking through a mental Rolodex for a match. Children’s homes, care homes, residential, secure units, YOIs, anything that would match… The Garden… She came up with nothing.

Marina was about to ask another question, but Finn’s mouth was twisting again. She kept silent, waited.

‘Mmm… mmoth… eh… moth… er… ’

‘Mother?’ said Marina. ‘Your mother?’

Another nod.

‘What about her? Is she… is she looking for you?’

Finn frowned. A dark shadow covered his face. His mouth twisted once more. ‘Thh… thhuh… god… thuh god… nerrr… ’

‘The gardener?’ said Marina. ‘Your mother is the gardener?’

Finn shook his head viciously. ‘Nnnuh… nnnuh… ’ The darkness was seeping back into his eyes. The terror.

‘Your mother,’ Marina persisted, trying to head off those dark thoughts. ‘Tell me about your mother, Finn. Is she… is she in the Garden? Would we find her in the Garden?’

Finn’s eyes snapped open wide once more. The terror dissipating. He nodded.

‘Right. Where is the Garden, Finn?’

He twisted his mouth, searched for words.

They waited.

And Marina’s phone went.

Finn jumped, screamed, pushed himself back into the headboard.

‘It’s all right,’ said Marina. ‘All right… ’ Although inwardly she was cursing. She stood up, walked into the corridor to take the call.

Anni remained with Finn. She tried the smile Marina had used. Hoped it would work. ‘Hey, it’s OK, Finn. It’s just a phone. Just a phone call.’

The boy was calming down. Anni was stunned – had he never seen a mobile phone before? Or any phone? ‘It’s OK,’ she said once more, hoping her words would soothe.

Marina pocketed her phone, motioned to Anni from the doorway. ‘That was Phil. He wants me at the crime scene.’

‘Didn’t you tell him what was happening here?’

‘I did, but… ’ She shrugged.

‘You’re doing great. He was just about to tell us where he was from.’

‘Perhaps. If he knows, which I doubt. Anni, he can barely speak. I mean, I’m doing the best I can, but I’m limited. This isn’t my area. They really need a professional child psychologist to come in and work with him. It’ll