Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Chapter Eighteen: Child Abuse

       Chapter Nineteen: Unwelcome News

       Chapter Twenty: Waiting In

       Chapter Twenty-One: Last Resort

       Chapter Twenty-Two: A Reprieve

       Chapter Twenty-Three: Going Home

       Epilogue

       Suggested topics for reading-group discussion

       Cathy Glass

       If you loved this book …

       Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

       About the Publisher

Chapter Eighteen

       Child Abuse

      It’s very sad, I think, that while many children enjoy regular birthday parties – going to them and holding them – other children do not. It doesn’t take much to give a child a little birthday party, an experience they’ll enjoy and remember to mark their special day. You don’t need an expensive professional entertainer, an elaborate dressing-up theme or a costly outing; just a few balloons, a sandwich tea and lots of enthusiasm from the organizer. I was determined that we’d make Samson’s party as authentic as possible, given the short notice and the fact that there’d just be the four of us and it wasn’t his birthday.

      Once home, I sent Samson and Adrian into the garden to run some laps, as Samson was now higher than ever at the thought of his party. While the boys ran off some energy I took Paula with me into the kitchen where I quickly made some jellies and put them in the fridge to set. I knew I had ice cream in the freezer. We’d have to pretend with the birthday cake, but I could put together a party tea with some sandwiches, crisps and biscuits. I called the boys in and made us all a drink and a snack, then with the children still seated at the table I produced some sheets of coloured card and crayons and showed them how to make party invitations, which I explained to Samson was the first step in having a party – inviting people to come. As it was going to be Samson’s birthday party, I said he would need to give Adrian, Paula and myself an invitation each. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen the kids at school give them out,’ he said cheerfully, and my heart went out to him.

      This activity kept everyone occupied for half an hour – I helped Paula make hers. I then gathered together the invitations and told Samson what he needed to write in each card and how to spell our names. To begin with he didn’t understand why he shouldn’t give himself an invitation, so I explained that as it was his party he would know the details – the date, time and place. This wasn’t obvious to him, as he’d never had a party before. Once the invites were written, he carefully slid them into the envelopes, printed our names on the outside and ceremoniously gave them out. We opened them with excited exclamations of ‘Wow!’ and said we’d love to go to his party, which was at two o’clock that afternoon.

      I then set up a board game at the table to keep Samson amused while I found a spare birthday card, which, out of sight of Samson, Adrian and I wrote in. I helped Paula write her name. I hung ‘Happy Birthday’ banners in the living room, which was to act as Samson’s house where the party would take place. Adrian helped me blow up balloons and I pinned a couple of them to the door of the living room to show where the party was being held. We then wrapped up some small gifts – I always had a few spare. After lunch I sent Samson for another run in the garden (he was getting hyper again) while I prepared some party food. At one-thirty he began counting off the minutes until two o’clock when he bellowed at the top of his voice: ‘It’s time for me party!’ He ran into the living room, slamming the door to ‘his house’ behind him so hard in his excitement that the building shook. Holding a present each, Adrian, Paula and I knocked on the door.

      ‘Who is it?’ he yelled