With the ongoingsupport my foster parents showed me and with George’s help too (as I continuedto work with him), my grades started to improve. So much so, at the end of highschool I was being encouraged to apply for university. So, I have much to bethankful for. My education has allowed me to pursue a successful career in thefinancial sector and, more importantly, I met the love of my life atuniversity.
I am still in contact with Paul andRachael, and we meet up occasionally. They continue to foster kids and, as far asI am concerned, they deserve recognition in this life and the next for theydon’t take on the babies and the cute little kids everyone wants; they ask forthe problem teenagers (exactly like I had been). They are determined to make adifference in that teenager’s life and set them on a new trajectory. It is acalling with them to want to help and I will be eternally grateful to them.
Janey has just glanced over in mydirection and has given me a reassuring smile, but I find it impossible toreciprocate, managing only a half-hearted smile in return. This is because weare traversing roads which are all too familiar to me and our destination needsno explanation, for I know where we are headed – Neist Point.
I am puzzled. Why is he bringing me outhere? What good could it possibly do and what is he hoping to achieve by this?
“Stop the car!” It’s out before I eventhink about it. George clocks me in the rear-view mirror but continues to driveon. “Stop the car I said!” I emphasise the words and this time they have thedesired effect – he slows the car down and pulls over when it’s safe to do so.
“Are you OK?” he asks.
“Am I OK? Hmm let’s think about that for amoment. What do you think, George? You are clearly headed towards Neist Pointand I can’t for the life of me think why! What good could it possibly do, goingout there?”
“Remember when I told you to put yourtrust in me? Well, this is one of those occasions. Please, trust me, Thomas.”
Janey gives my hand a squeeze. With herother hand, she places it on my chest and gently pushes and it registers withme that I am sat on the edge of the seat, so I shift backwards.
“Thomas,” Juliet whispers in my direction,“it’s OK, we are all here for you.” I release my hand from Janey’s grip as ithas gone decidedly clammy. I ignore both Janey and Juliet’s advances.
“George, you are seriously wastingeveryone’s time here.”
“Thomas really, just calm down, please. Wehave both agreed you have to face up to your past. Neist Point is the locationwhere you experienced a very traumatic event, so it seems as good a place asany to start your journey. It’s time, Thomas.” ‘It’s time.’ There are those twolittle words again. He appears to take my silence for an unspoken agreement andthe car revs up once more.
‘I can do this,’ I silently tell myself.There’s no need to get panicked. We are only going to a local beauty spot; aninnocuous landmark, nothing to get worked up about. Yes, it was the site whereI lost my beautiful Caroline and where father struck me with that ferociousblow, but it is just a place, nothing more, nothing less. Then why do I feel soon edge? I feel Janey’s hand guiding me back once more and I realise that Ihave been sitting stiff as a board on the edge of my seat once again.
This is silly! I am a grown man now and Ihave the support of everyone around me. Come on, Thomas, I will myself, digdeep. The car slows as we become snarled in the queue of traffic looking forparking spaces. In the distance I can see Neist Point Lighthouse and the seabeyond. My stomach lurches.
I feel as though I have shifted intoautopilot mode. There is no synchronicity between my mind and body. I have leftmy seat and joined the others as they exit the car, having now found a parkingspace. It feels as though my body is going through the motions. But I fear if Iover-think it, there is no way I would have left the car. My legs and feet feellike they are made of lead, but I lift them anyway, ignoring the resistance. Iam vaguely aware of George giving me a pat on the back. It seems oddlyridiculous given the circumstances. As though a pat on the back from my oldtherapist is going to somehow lift the years of pain and anguish. I refrainfrom telling him so and trudge on anyway.
The last time I was here was as afourteen-year-old boy, but I know the route and the landscape well. As I walkon this well-trodden path, I find myself switching back and forth betweenfourteen-year-old Thomas and present-day Thomas. It comes flooding back to me,the wild snowstorm and menacing winds. And then the feeling of being chasedwashes over me. All at once I am almost convinced father is behind me, hot onmy tail. My consciousness switches and I am back to present day and I take inmy surroundings and my companions. No need to panic, I tell myself. This isbound to happen. I haven’t been back here since that day. Of course painfulemotions will rise to the surface, it’s to be expected.
Iam quietly amused as I notice I am being monitored. George is the most brazenof the three, not even trying to hide the backwards glances. We cover moreground, and I can’t help but keep on switching back and forth, back and forth.Today we have cool, crisp weather with very little wind (in stark contrast to12th February 1998); the kind of weather which draws people out and,as I look around, I see this is very much the case. It is nothing like thehordes of tourists which descend in the summer months but there are quite anumber of people out today. They all appear connected in a fashion –
