Godchild: The Dream Catcher Diaries, #3

Dream Catcher Diaries III

Godchild

It is 2053, six years after the Final Reckoning, six years since the ‘death’ of the Dream Catcher. The world is changing. The revolution has failed and the substrata are once again under attack. The Madison elite believe they have destroyed Matrix and the Brotherhood. They thought they had won.

Yet unexpectedly, progressive has been slow. Harrison is sure he knows why. Madison failed to destroy Cyclops. Cyclops is holding back the Balanced Society.

Therefore Cyclops must die.

Harrison sets out to infiltrate the Brotherhood and bring down Cyclops, unaware that against all the odds, the Dream Catcher is alive, he is returning, and he is stronger than before.

In this new world, Alexander will meet old enemies and friends, and face some of his greatest personal challenges yet.

The story so far

The Dream Catcher Diaries opens up in a deserted warehouse in Bristol. It is June 2047, and Alexander has just murdered five men.

He is wounded and sick, and so his family and friends attempt to hide him from the police in the house of Samantha Colman, the ex-wife of Davey Patrick. There, he is discovered by DCI Edward Morgan. Morgan now begins his own journey – to find out the truth about Matrix.

Alexander appears to be dying; his body is poisoned and paralysed. As Morgan watches over him, he is given a copy of Alexander’s book, The Matrix Solution. He starts to read it.

The Matrix Solution opens in 2036 in the Highlands of Scotland and introduces a desperate Matrix, an alcoholic and drug addict, on the run from both the police and an extreme right wing, violent organisation known as New Fabian.

His book takes us through his rehab, love affairs and a realisation that the kind of abuse he has suffered at the hands of New Fabian is widespread. He has been a victim of a state-sponsored cleansing programme, involving the police and a judicial system heavily infiltrated by members of New Fabian. The programme was designed to curb the demands of the wasteful ‘underclass’ and was legitimised by an Act of Parliament that had the popular support of the masses. Matrix can think of only one solution to save ‘his people’ from continued abuse: a revolution.

He founds an organisation known as Bràithreachas or Brotherhood and, on the 1 April 2040, he launches his revolution. Matrix is a skilled chess player and constantly compares his reality with a game of chess. As he pits his wits against his superior enemy, he knows that some pieces on his chessboard must be sacrificed. To minimise the loss, he sets out to sacrifice his most important piece: his king – Matrix.

Alexander’s book The Matrix Solution concludes with the revolution won and Matrix in prison awaiting trial. He is offered a deal: immunity and anonymity for his family, in exchange for his incarceration and silence for life.

He is sent to a detention centre called Finley House and Belmont Prison where he is tortured. However, Alexander is a Dream Catcher and when he is finally released from prison he has been made stronger.

He returns home but finds he cannot relinquish Matrix. He has won the revolution but the ideas of New Fabian have found a new and more powerful voice. The state renews its attack on the underclass but this time links its justification to the global green agenda. ‘To save the planet you must earn your place. Those who cannot or will not contribute should not take from the planet.’ It is a powerful and compelling argument in a world alarmed by massive over population, global warming and dwindling resources; it is an argument Matrix chooses to fight but knows he cannot win.

In June 2047 the state releases all the New Fabian leaders early and soon three of Alexander’s key tormentors are looking for him. He knows it is only a matter of time before they find him and his family. He sets out to meet them.

The story brings us full circle to where Matrix is captured and tortured in a deserted warehouse in Bristol. The opening paragraphs from Part One conclude the book. Matrix survives but is almost completely paralysed. He is brought home.

Chapter one of Godchild takes up the story six years after the Bristol warehouse.

Principal Characters from The Dream Catcher Diaries...

The Patrick Clan...

Alexander Patrick - (Dream Catcher, Matrix, Jamie Cameron)

Alexander is partially sighted. They call him the Dream Catcher because of his ability to read other people’s hearts. He was twenty-two when taken into care, where he was sexually and physically abused. He survives the night of the Final Reckoning and is brought home, completely paralysed.

Davey Patrick (Cyclops)

Alexander’s greatest friend, a man he calls his brother, is his brother’s son. Davey is deafblind yet proves to be his greatest help and ally in the revolution. He is married to Sam. They have one son James. Sam leaves Davey and then comes to regret it, too late, Lydia becomes pregnant with Adam and Davey has to marry her. He never forgives Lydia or Adam.

Robert Patrick (Alastor - Aa-laa-stawr)

Robert is Alexander’s brother and a vet. He is passionate and loyal, dedicated to caring for Davey and married to Dianne. After the night of the Final Reckoning, Robert gives up his job to look after Alexander.

Steve Carter (Phaedo - Fee-doh)

Sectioned as a sex offender, Steve is a man walking alone until he meets Alexander on a beach in Devon. Alexander reads his heart and befriends him. After the Final Reckoning he looks after Alexander.

Adam (Booth) Patrick

Adopted son of Robert and Dianne, Adam becomes Steve’s lover, but dies at twenty-five.

Simeon St Clair

Simeon comes into Adam’s life because of a friendship between Steve and arts student, Tarrant.  After Adam’s death he and Steve become lovers.

Mycroft Rogers (Iron Man) and Crompton (Crusoe)

Mycroft is a Chief in the bikers’ gang, Satan’s Children. He and his son Crompton have pledged their loyalty to the Patricks. Crompton is married to Petra and they have two children, a son, Jack and a daughter, Sienna.

Ian Richardson and Daniel Cohen

Ian is a landscape gardener. His partner Daniel is a vet and Robert’s best friend.

Ricky, Mel and Rosie Thorn

Animal activists who run an animal sanctuary where Robert and Daniel are volunteer vets.

Tony Lawrence and his daughters, Kate and Lydia.

Professor Tony Lawrence is Davey’s employer and the leader of Pandora, an elite group of mathematicians. Lydia marries Davey after falling pregnant with Adam.

Megan (Caitlin)

Megan is the daughter of the prostitute Tanya and has always considered Alexander as her father. After the Final Reckoning, she leaves the family when they, in her eyes, try to murder him. She moves to Ireland and marries.

Thomas Young

Thomas was Alexander’s chief minder and torturer at Belmont Prison. But after reading The Matrix Solution he pledges his life to protecting Alexander and his family, becoming their bodyguard. He is despised by all of the Patricks and is a Brotherhood target. After the night of the Final Reckoning he goes into hiding. He has an estranged daughter and Dylan, a son.

Isaac Stein (Elijah)

Robert once visited Spider and Amos with the intention of killing them. He fails to do so, but he does rescue the amputee Isaac and brings him to Alexander. Isaac is married to Dianne’s niece Ami. They have two children, a son, Jacob and a daughter Danni.

The Lost Boys: Gabriel and Francis

The Lost Boys were imprisoned and sexually abused as children by a group of high-profile paedophiles. Francis and Tarrant are lovers and now own a run-down hotel on Dartmoor.

Logan Taylor

Logan Taylor was a DCI in Birmingham and responsible for releasing the Lost Boys. He was also a Matrix worm during the revolution. He has remained friends with the Patricks ever since.

Bràithreachas (Brawh-ruk-hus) or Brotherhood

Angus Mackay (The General)

Angus is a complex character who could easily have fought on the other side. He is a man of deep passion and conflicting motives. He has a son, Hamish whom he is preparing to be the next General.

Stewart Mackay (Cadros)

The youngest Mackay brother

Euan Mackay (Azrael)

Murdered on the night of the Final Reckoning, he leaves a son, Fergus, who at the age of ten, is taken into the Brotherhood as a soldier.

Hamish Mackay (Wallace)

The eldest Mackay brother, during the revolution, was instrumental in bringing the prisons under Brotherhood control. He now lives in the Highlands working on his farm.

Caliph and Meera

Both Caliph and Meera are discards saved by Matrix. They become Blood Brothers. They now live in the same town in Devon as Alexander.

William Cross (Fly)

Hamish recruited Fly in prison. Fly can climb walls and hack into freelancers. Since the revolution he has stayed close to the Patricks.

Samuel Goldmann

Samuel met Alexander at Oxford and later becomes the Brotherhood lawyer.

Alexander falls in love

Judith Maclea

A woman thirty years older than Alexander, he meets her at Lochcarrie. She dies of a stroke.

Sonia Patrick nee Gayre

Sonia reluctantly falls in love with Alexander and turns down two offers of marriage: from Duncan MacNeil and the Reverend Fraser Drummond. She marries Alexander, only to leave him when he is brought home by Robert, paralysed. They have a son, Robbie and when she leaves Alexander, she is pregnant.

Christine Hadley nee Macraith

Alexander was engaged to Christine when his father dies and he is taken by social care. She is his one chance of being brought back to the family, but Christine ends the engagement and marries a work colleague, Neil Hadley. She is now divorced and has a daughter Laurel.

Cathie Anderson nee Thomas

When Alexander is twenty-one he meets and falls in love with Cathie. She has nothing but contempt for him and tells him so. Shortly afterwards her parents emigrate to New Zealand and she marries Sebastian Anderson.

New Fabian and others

Martin Harrison

The Commander-in-Chief of New Fabian, Harrison is a man with a secret that only Matrix knows. He is now out of prison and is leading the progressive agenda towards his Balanced Society.

Henry Fuller

One of the richest men in Europe, a member of the Inner Circle, but not a member of Fabian and so escapes imprisonment. He is married to Susan and has two children, Mathew and Suzanne.

Matt Cooper

Matt Cooper dies on the night of the Final Reckoning, but he has a younger brother Gaius who takes up politics. Gaius has two sons, Peter and Landon.

Prologue

Sunday 13 January, 2064

They left the building with a giant leap, holding on to their precious burden, racing for their lives and for his life. With pounding feet, they came spinning round the corner, holding him tight, almost tripping in their haste, running through flaming shadows, towards the waiting van. His body felt heavy, his arms hung down between them, limp and lifeless. His head lolled to one side. He was heavy – heavy as death.

The world around them was collapsing. People were everywhere, running for their lives. And then suddenly, Angus and Stewart were there, beside them, reaching out to guide them, and still they ran. And as they ran, the house behind them began to throw up torrents of flames in loud explosive blasts of searing heat. They heard people cry out. There were screams and gunfire. They ducked, bending their bodies low to avoid a shower of a thousand tiny fire drops, descending on them from the house and surrounding buildings. More explosions and the flames rose higher.

They were across the lawns now; familiar faces loomed close, faces that cared. They could see the van. And still they ran, gulping in the night air as they did so, willing their bodies on, holding on to the slumped body, and all the while the thought pursued them, the dreaded thought, that they were too late and the man they carried was already dead. The unthinkable had happened. He was dead.

********************

The van loomed closer and figures leapt out, grabbing them, pulling them in. And as they fell, someone started the engine and they were off. They collapsed, panting. They could barely speak, they had so little breath; they could only point. They had no need; Angus was there and on his feet. ‘Simeon, get here now!’ he yelled.

There was frantic movement in the van, everyone moving at once. Hands reached out to the still body lying on the floor. Hands reached out and hauled him up onto a stretcher. Hands reached out to check for life signs.

Angus was feeling for a pulse, eyes wide and disbelieving. The van swung erratically along a twisting road, away from the flaming buildings, away to safety. Simeon was helped across. Angus turned to him. ‘I can’t find a pulse!’ he cried. ‘I can’t find anything! He’s dead!’

Simeon pushed him away and knelt down. Anxiously he began to probe for life.

‘I’ve failed!’ Dylan sobbed. Tears were streaming down his face. ‘I’ve failed Matrix and the Godchild is dead.’

Simeon continued to examine the still body, clearly puzzled. He touched the face, the neck and the raw wounds, still bleeding. ‘They put the lock on him,’ he said.

‘We bathed his mouth,’ said Dylan. ‘We tried to stop the bleeding, but there was so much blood.’

Simeon stared at the face, the Matrix scar across the right cheek and the gash on the neck, a clumsy inverted cross. ‘They’ve marked him,’ he whispered.

‘The bastards! The sick bastards put the lock on him and the breaking irons, and they cut his face and neck!’

‘Just like Alexander,’ said Simeon.

‘The bastards!’

Simeon pulled the head to one side to inspect the neck more closely. ‘He’s not dead,’ he announced.

Angus glanced across at him in disbelief. ‘What?’

‘He’s not dead.’ He pointed to a small puncture mark in the neck, below the gash. ‘They’ve injected him with poison, and I think I know what poison they’ve used.’

‘How can you know?’

Simeon was searching the body for more puncture wounds and finding them. He stopped and began pulling out syringes and bottles. ‘Alexander told me, but I didn’t understand; now I do. I understand, and I know what they’ve done.’ He began to fill a syringe with golden liquid.

Angus placed a restraining hand on his arm. ‘What’re you going to do?’

Simeon didn’t look at him, but his voice was full of suppressed excitement. ‘When Alexander came to me all those years ago full of poison, I had no idea what it was they’d pumped into him or what to do, but I do now and I can save him.’

‘Are you seriously telling me they’ve given him the same poison they gave Matrix back then?’

‘Yes.’ Simeon leant over the body, syringe in hand.

‘No.’ Angus kept his hand tight on Simeon’s arm. ‘How can you be so sure?’

‘They’ve marked him the same as Alexander,’ cried Simeon. ‘They put the lock on him and the breaking irons. Of course they’ve used the same poison!’

‘Of course! There’s no of course about it.’

Simeon’s face hardened. ‘I have no choice.’

‘You have every choice. If you’re wrong, you’ll kill him.’

‘And, if I’m right, I’ll save him.’

‘It’s too risky. He’s too precious.’

‘If I do nothing, he’ll die anyway.’

‘No, I won’t let you second-guess his life. This is the Godchild, a man he calls son.’

‘Which is why they’ve chosen his fate.’

‘No, I won’t let you!’

‘You defy me, then you defy Matrix.’

‘What?’

‘Alexander told me this could happen. Why do you think I have this antidote with me?’

Angus opened his mouth to speak, but Simeon forestalled him. ‘Angus, I have no idea whether I’m right, but I do know one thing: for some reason – for some incomprehensible reason – Alexander understands how Harrison’s sick mind works.’ He glanced down at the body. ‘They both do. For the last few months we’ve being playing some lethal game of chess, and now we’ve come to this. Alexander told me that Harrison would choose to use the same poison given to him by Spider and Amos. Well, I don’t know about you, but I believe in the Dream Catcher. I trust his instinct and this is not the time for his General to have doubts.’

Angus continued to stare, eyes wide with fear. Then slowly he released his grip on Simeon’s arm and nodded.

Simeon bent down and placed the needle against the pale skin. As he injected the liquid in, he prayed that he had understood Alexander correctly: that this really was what he intended him to do. Then he straightened up and watched ... and waited.

Everyone did.

Part One ...

Eleven years earlier (six years after the Final Reckoning) September 2053 ...

Cause and Effect

Chapter 1

September 2053

Gornstone, Scottish Highlands

Robert walked up to the house. The chill wind blew straight down the glen and made him shiver, but it wasn’t just the wind that made him feel the chill. The house itself was not a friendly house. Its aspect was grey and grim. It was square and solid, and what struck him particularly was that there was no sign that children lived there. He thought of his own childhood home and our home when we were children; both had that unmistakable look: discarded toys in the garden, bright curtains at the windows, unmistakable signs that a child or children lived in that house. But here there was nothing, just a grim forbidding house that sent a chill down his spine.

He approached the front door and lifted his hand to knock, only to find the door flung open before him. He was faced with a tall, broad-shouldered man with sparse ginger hair. He may have been handsome once, but not anymore. Now he was haggard, a man who drank, that was obvious. Robert could see it in his face and smell it on his breath, the distinctive sour smell of whisky, the Scottish curse – or blessing, depending on your point of view. Robert had always considered it a curse, but he was biased. He had spent a childhood with this smell and it was one he loathed, one that still had the power to instil fear in him.

The man was scrutinising him carefully. Robert could see the look of contempt cross his face. ‘Mr Fraser Drummond?’ asked Robert.

‘Reverend Drummond,’ corrected the man. His voice was harsh with a thick Highland accent.

‘Aye, of course,’ murmured Robert.

Drummond was dressed in clerical black; the front of his black shirt was stained with previous meals. He wore his uniform with a mixture of pride and carelessness. ‘And you must be Robert Patrick – the brother.’

‘Yes.’

‘Come in,’ said Drummond abruptly, and he opened the door wider for Robert to enter. ‘You don’t look like him,’ he complained, as Robert passed into the musty, claustrophobic hallway.

‘No.’ He could think of nothing more original to say.

If the exterior of the house was unprepossessing then the interior was, if anything, worse. It was filthy yet sparsely furnished, and it was cold: cold from lack of heating and cold from neglect. Robert looked around again, desperately trying to see signs of the existence of the children. Yet still he saw nothing. No toys, no books, no children’s pictures on the walls, nothing to say that a child lived in this house. Puzzled, he turned round to face Drummond. But Drummond wasn’t looking at him. With slippery, dirty fingers he had reached out to a grimy shelf and was tracing patterns in the dirt. He spoke to the shelf. ‘I don’t know how it stands,’ he said, ‘in England, I mean.’ He pulled his hand from the shelf and wiped it clean on his shirtfront. ‘Do you have the right to take them, with your brother being dead?’

‘I’ve sorted it,’ said Robert smoothly. ‘I have the right. My brother made sure of that before he died.’

Drummond nodded morosely. ‘I’ll go fetch them,’ he said. ‘They’re in their bedroom.’ He slouched out.

Robert wandered across to the window and gazed out onto a rough patch of land that the more charitable would call a garden. But a garden implied some degree of care. This patch of sorry turf showed nothing but neglect, like everything else he saw. Rubbish lay strewn about: empty bottles, old cans of paint, torn newspapers blowing in the chill breeze. At the bottom of the garden next to the wall stood a shed, newly painted, the only sign of any effort being made to create a pleasing effect, and still he saw nothing to confirm the existence of children.

He was beginning to have doubts and was starting to think he had been called here on some cruel hoax, when he heard Drummond shuffle back into the room. Robert turned round and held his breath. Standing before him were two little replicas of me. One from when I was eleven, the other from when I was five. He breathed a huge sigh of relief, gave a big smile and said, ‘Hello, boys, I’m your Uncle Robert, and I’ve come to take you home.’

Chapter 2

Glasgow

Robert sat with the two boys at Glasgow airport waiting for their flight to Exeter. The boys sat slouched on one of the chairs. The eleven-year-old Robbie had his arms wrapped round the five-year-old Angus. Neither of them spoke. They had hardly said a word throughout the entire journey from the remote Highland village of Gornstone to the bustling city of Glasgow. Robert had tried hard to make them talk, but Angus had said nothing and Robbie had merely grunted. Instead, they had sat in sullen silence all the way, staring out at the passing scenery, not appearing to see anything, totally immersed in their own worlds. He decided not to push it. He could wait. After all, he had waited six years for this. He could afford to be patient a little longer – even though he was not known for his patience.

As the city of Glasgow swallowed them up, Angus sat up straight and appeared to notice things for the first time. His eyes opened wide, and he stared in undisguised astonishment at the sights that flew by. ‘Robbie!’ he cried. ‘Look!  Have you ever seen such things?’

Robbie scowled and said nothing, but Angus was sitting up alert, fascinated by the sights. ‘This is Glasgow, Angus,’ said Robert, ‘a big city.’

‘Aye, a really big city!’ enthused Angus with delight. Robert grinned at him through the mirror. Angus glanced up and caught the grin and gave a shy smile in return. Robbie dug his elbow into him. ‘No, Angus, I told you to be careful,’ he said softly. He spoke in Gaelic, assuming Robert, whom he had put down as a Sassenach, would not understand. Robert said nothing. Unfortunately, Angus said nothing either. His brother had silenced him again, and he ceased to watch the city any more.

********************

Robert had checked in the boys’ large trunk, and they were waiting for their meal to arrive. He had ordered a good Scottish standby of pizza. Neither of the boys had shown any great excitement when he told them, which was disappointing, but once again he reminded himself that he had to be patient. The pizza arrived, and he carved up the slices and placed them in front of Robbie and Angus. ‘Eat up!’ he said with a broad smile.

They stared at the pizza as if he were giving them poison. ‘Don’t you like pizza?’ he asked.

Robbie scowled. Angus shook his head and turned to Robbie, seeming to seek permission. ‘It’s okay, Angus, it’s just pizza,’ said Robert. He took a large bite of his own. The cheese stretched out and fell from his hands in long yellow streams. Angus gave a little gasp, not sure what to say or do. Robert laughed. ‘Sign of a good pizza when it does that,’ he said, scooping up the strands of cheese and ramming them in. Angus put his hands to his mouth, still unsure how to respond. Robbie remained still; he sat bolt upright and glared at the table.

Robert put his mangled slice of pizza back on his plate. ‘Come on, Angus, have some. You do like pizza, don’t you?’

Angus could bear it no longer and burst out. ‘What’s pizza?’

Robert decided not to show his astonishment. He looked Angus in the eye and said, ‘It’s one of the most delicious foods to come out of Scotland.’

Angus hesitated only a second longer before picking up his slice and ramming it into his mouth, just as Robert had done.

‘No, Angus!’ shouted Robbie.

‘But, Robbie, I’m hungry!’ cried Angus.

Robbie scowled and slumped back in the chair whilst his brother tucked in. He sat like that for five minutes more before he, too, picked up a slice and began to eat. But this time more carefully and slowly than either Robert or his brother. He ate awkwardly, keeping his hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket, which was too big for him, as if the cold still bothered him.

At the end of the meal, Robert suggested milkshakes and was not surprised to note the look of puzzlement on both faces. ‘Trust me, you’ll like them,’ he said. He was once again rewarded with a shy smile from Angus and a scowl from Robbie.

As the boys sucked through their straws, drinking in the delights of a milkshake, Robert thought it was time for some truth. ‘You’ve not asked me where I’m taking you,’ he said.

Both boys shrugged their shoulders.

‘I’m taking you home,’ he said. ‘I’m taking you home to your father.’

No sooner were the words out, than Robbie leapt to his feet. ‘Liar!’ he shouted. ‘My daddy’s dead! You’re a liar!’

‘He’s not dead. He’s waiting for you,’ said Robert quietly.

‘Liar!’ repeated Robbie. He bounded forward, knocking plates and glasses off the table. The little table shook slightly. Hands and legs flew everywhere and, in a desperate effort to get out, he rammed his body against the side of the table. It wobbled and tipped over with a loud crash.

Robert jumped to his feet, cursing loudly. Trying to avert chaos, he began reaching out ineffectively to catch falling plates and cutlery. Robbie bounded past him over the table and ran. Robert, still clutching bits of debris, swung round in confusion. Briefly he caught sight of a small figure in an oversized jacket running at full speed through the crowds. He threw the rubbish down and shouted out. But even as he did so, Robbie had disappeared and, as he disappeared, the announcement was made that it was time to board the flight for Exeter.

Chapter 3

‘He’s locked himself in the toilet,’ Robert was saying to Dianne. ‘Tell Alexander we’ve missed our flight and we’re going to be a wee bit late.’

‘When will you be here?’ came Dianne’s voice from Devon.

‘When I get the wee bastard out of the toilet!’ Robert shouted back.

Chapter 4

The Red House, Devon

Robert pulled up outside our house and breathed a sigh of relief. Home at last! He turned round to Robbie and Angus. ‘We’re home,’ he said. He was greeted with the usual scowl and shy smile.

The only way Robert had been able to coax Robbie out of the toilet was by saying he had lied about me still being alive. Now he was faced with the prospect of a little boy about to meet his dead father, and he was not looking forward to it. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘Let’s go and have something to eat.’

‘Will it be pizza and milkshake?’ asked Angus hopefully.

‘No, but I’m sure it will be something just as nice,’ he said. He got out of the car and opened the doors for them. Angus jumped out and held out his hand. Robert felt a sense of triumph and hoped he didn’t show it. He took the small proffered hand, but not for long. Robbie had come round the car. He snatched it back and held it in his own, a look of disdain on his face. Angus held on to his brother and followed dutifully inside.

They entered the wide hallway of the Red House, their new home. Angus gazed around him, clearly astonished. The house would have appeared unusually vast, comfortable and warm to him. Robbie scowled at the floor. He dragged his feet as he followed Robert down the hallway to the double doors at the end, and he clung on to his younger brother as if to fight off any attack. Robert opened the doors and stood back, watching the boys carefully.

********************

They walked into a room full of light: a conservatory, large and oval in shape. It had colourful blinds hanging halfway down the windows, enough to mute but not cut out the early autumn light.

I sat in the middle of the room, leaning against a long dining table of pale wood. I was sitting in my wheelchair and, as they entered the room, I turned the chair round to face them.

Robbie cried out. His hand flew to his mouth. He fell to the floor with a heavy thud as he recognised me, his father. A man he truly believed to be dead.

Chapter 5

Robbie was five years old when his mother took him away, but he would never forget. He had been at school, in the playground with Adam and Jacob, playing pirates. He still remembered the game and how it had been a brown September day, with a wind blowing leaves across a wet playground, and the air had smelt of bonfires. He remembered the day. The day was full of children shouting, screaming and laughing. He remembered it all.

She had come for him. She was crying. She took him away. He was confused and afraid.

‘What about Adam?’ he had asked. ‘Is he coming too?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘just you. We need to go on a trip; now come on!’

She had taken him away, and that’s when she told him – in the car on the way to Scotland. She had told him that his daddy was dead.

He cried. He cried all the way to Scotland. He cried every night in his loneliness as he remembered the man he called Daddy, until at last he had stopped crying.

********************

He fainted when he saw me, but not for long. He was soon brought round and found himself in my arms. He looked into my face, the face he had once loved, the face he had been told to hate and to forget, the face that his mother had told him was no more. He had believed her; it never occurred to him to doubt her. Why should it? But I was not dead. I was alive and he knew one thing: he would never forgive her for that lie, never forgive her for that betrayal, because in that lie had lain five years of hell, and she was responsible.

Chapter 6

Robbie and Angus came home to me on that cold September day. I undressed them that night for bed and saw for the first time what he had done to them. Robbie had not wanted me to undress them. I took that as the natural pride of an eleven-year-old boy, but Angus was keen to have some help.

‘I’ll undress you, Angus,’ said Robbie. ‘I always do.’

Angus looked up at me, ‘Daddy?’ He said it as if he were experimenting with the word.

‘I tell you what, Angus,’ I said. ‘I’ll undress you, help you wash and brush your teeth, and I’ll read you a story. Would you like that?’

‘Can I have the one about the big bear?’ he asked.

‘Any one you like,’ I said.

Robbie glared at me.

As I undressed Angus, I glanced across at Robbie as he undressed. I said nothing at first. Instead, I did what I said I would do and read the bedtime story. Afterwards, I went across to Robbie and pulled his hands out from under the duvet. I gazed at them for some time, turning them over in my own hands.

He had old man’s hands. They were creased and gnarled and covered in scars. They had been thrashed and beaten and bruised beyond his years.

‘Who did this to you, Robbie?’ I asked gently.

‘I did,’ he said defiantly.

‘And your shoulders and legs – who did that?’

Robbie scowled, flung the duvet over his thin shoulders and turned his back to me.

But I had seen them; he could not deny me that. The scars across his shoulders and the top of his legs and on his hands.

As the days progressed, I checked his body all over, and Angus’s too. Angus had marks on his hands – but not as bad as Robbie’s. Robbie had those scars in three places on his body: shoulders, legs and hands.

Fraser Drummond had beaten my boy in just those three places, nowhere else.

Chapter 7

The journey with my two sons was by no means an easy one. I soon came to realise that they had passed through scenes that had marked them permanently. They bore scars – both physical and mental – and Robbie, I knew, carried dark demons.

The trouble was I had no clear idea what those dark demons might be. All I knew for sure was that the man who hated me, the man who had called me the Devil’s Child, the man who had loved Sonia and then had had her taken from him, was the man who had been in charge of the welfare of my two boys for five years. I soon realised one other thing: my greatest enemy in finding out what had happened to them was Robbie himself. He seemed full of a secret dread that prevented him from opening up, even to me, and he was passionately protective of Angus to the point of hysteria. During those first few weeks, we all watched my two boys and quickly came to despair.

Robbie was old enough, under the new rules, to qualify for senior school. Adam had already started at the local private school, St Anthony’s. It was my old school; actually, it was one from where I had once been expelled. It was also the school to which we had sent Davey’s son, James. The headmaster was a personal friend of both the family and Matrix. He had been one of many who had supported me during the revolution. His name was Julian Cartwright. 

It soon became apparent that Robbie was not yet academically able to move onto senior school, and so a deal was struck. We sent him to Mary Street Primary with Angus, and Julian agreed to assess him again in the New Year.

Reports soon began to filter through about both my boys: aggressive behaviour towards staff and other pupils from Robbie and inattentiveness and constant falling asleep from Angus. We believed the reports because we had witnessed this conduct at home.

Robbie was an angry and belligerent child. He rarely smiled, and he never relaxed, and he had nothing but contempt and hatred for everyone he met – everyone, that is, except Angus and me. At home, he reserved special vitriol for Adam, who had welcomed him as a lost brother only to receive a passionate and violent rejection.

Within days, the family was split. Most of my family not only disliked Robbie intensely but they feared him as well. His unruly and unpredictable behaviour created tension that had previously not existed, and to see Adam hurt and bruised by the newcomer was painful to all of us – especially me, who loved Adam as a son.

And that was part of the problem. Robbie soon saw the special place Adam had in my affections, and so he set about trying to destroy him. He succeeded in alienating everyone.

The problem with Angus was quite different. He soon charmed the whole family with his humour and innocence. He burbled constantly. At first, none of us could understand him. He spoke a type of Gaelic, mixing the occasional English word and some words that were a combination of both, but his English was so heavily accented that, at first, we all struggled to comprehend him. It took several weeks before we were able to catch on to his rhythm of speech.

But his behaviour was also puzzling. He had the peculiar habit of falling asleep unexpectedly and completely. His sleep was so deep that it was almost impossible to wake him. He could sleep for anywhere between half-an-hour to two hours, and afterwards, when he woke up, he denied ever having been asleep. He had no memory of it at all.

As well as this, he had difficulty remembering the simplest of instructions. In fact, he struggled to remember even normal events and conversations. He would ask me a question and, an hour later, ask me it again, as if it were for the first time. His burbling reflected this complete absence of recall, repeating the same phrase again and again.

This seemed to put Robbie in a permanent state of panic. He would stand by anxiously watching Angus, as he sat repeating his questions, until Robbie could bear it no longer. He would then interrupt Angus, ordering him to be quiet. It took many weeks for him to calm down, as he came to realise that no harm would come to Angus and, in fact, that everyone was growing intensely fond of his little brother.

The truth was Angus won all our hearts very quickly. He was a loving child, he gave and demanded love in equal measure and he particularly loved Adam. Once, when he heard Adam call Robert Granddad, he asked whether he could call him Granddad as well. We explained to him that Robert was his uncle. He smiled at us and called Robert Granddad anyway. He did so because Adam did, and he loved Adam, and he did so because he loved Robert as well

Falling asleep and not remembering the simplest instruction proved difficult for Mary Street Primary. It also caused Angus grief – and, we guessed, bullying. In fact, I suspected that the reason Robbie found himself in difficulties sometimes may well have been because of bullying of some kind. I remembered my own experiences at school too well and understood how the simple fact of looking different could lead to trouble.

We were at a loss over what to do about my sons and their problems, when those problems were unexpectedly and summarily taken away from us.

The school called in social care.

Chapter 8

In the November of the year that saw Robbie and Angus returned to me, social care was threatening to take them away again.

It came in the form of a man named Malcolm Talbot.

Twice a week, Robert had to take Robbie down to the social care office for counselling and, once again, Robbie proved to be my greatest enemy. He wouldn’t co-operate; he refused to talk or behave better. 

Whilst Robbie continued to be a concern, we did make some progress with Angus. We had come to the conclusion that something was wrong with him, and so, immediately before Christmas, we sent him to a specialist brain unit at the private hospital in Exeter and discovered that he had brain damage. We had no idea how this had happened. We asked Robbie, but he merely shook his head, and the records in the hospital in Scotland were ridiculously vague. All we could find out was that, when Angus was two, he had been taken into the hospital unconscious, having suffered an accident. He remained unconscious for two days. When he recovered consciousness, he was not the same child – how and in what way, the records did not specify.

The consequence for Angus was that we took him out of Mary Street Primary and placed him in a school for special needs called St Christopher’s, and Angus thrived.

Robbie was distraught at being left alone at Mary Street. I thought this might lead to better behaviour from him; it had occurred to me that some of Robbie’s poor performance was due to him wanting to stay close to Angus. From what I could see of Robbie, he was not a stupid boy, despite what the school might say.

I was wrong. In fact his behaviour deteriorated even more, resulting in him being suspended from school. I didn’t think it could get any worse – then it did. That Christmas, Robbie attempted to commit suicide. And that’s when I could no longer ignore the fact that my poor son was chasing demons he could no longer control.

********************

That Christmas should have been one of celebration; Davey was attending a prestigious event in London on behalf of the Pandora group. He was the key speaker in front of a large audience and media cameras. Everyone in the family except me planned to be there, including my daughter Megan who was coming over from Ireland.

Megan hardly ever came to visit me anymore. I was an unhappy reminder of happier days. She just wasn’t interested. Was I hurt? Of course I was, but she had chosen her way. She had a husband and work that satisfied her. She claimed happiness. I wasn’t so sure; sometimes, I thought she held a sorrow deep in her heart. Robbie was fascinated by her. I saw no harm in that. I may even have encouraged it.

The evening of the dinner, I prepared myself for a quiet time. Steve and Simeon came over to keep me company, and Simeon cooked. Late that evening, we were still sitting at the dinner table chatting idly. We had watched Davey deliver his speech on our media station, and we were relaxing in the unnatural quiet. That’s when the call came through. It was Robert. ‘He’s locked himself in the toilet again.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I’m trying to find out. He won’t talk to me or anyone. He’s in the bloody toilet; the place is empty except for the cleaners, and some bastard’s called the police.’

‘The police! Why?’

There was silence, followed by, ‘Oh, shit!’

‘What is it?’

‘Blood!’

The call ended.

We spent long anxious minutes waiting for Robert to call back. It seemed to last days. Robert finally called. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Now, Alexander, don’t panic, but we’re on our way to the hospital.’

I couldn’t think of a single reason for not panicking. ‘What happened?’ I tried to keep my voice calm.

‘Robbie’s tried to cut his wrist with a toilet seat.’

********************

It was both ludicrous and sad, but my son had locked himself in the toilet, despairing and full of anger. More than anything, he wanted to hurt the world; more than anything, he wanted to give back some of the pain given to him. He chose to hurt himself instead. He broke the toilet basin by dropping the lid onto it, picked up a small piece of porcelain and then hacked at his wrists. He was hauled out before any serious damage was done.

And what had caused this hysterical reaction?

My daughter, Megan.

She had taken Robbie to one side and told him a story of a family who had taken one of its members and tried to murder him, a family who all sat by and waited for him to die. She had gone on to explain how she had been the only one to try to save his life. The person she was talking about was me.

I can only guess at the sense of betrayal he must have felt from all of us – including me.

********************

Malcolm Talbot could now legitimately claim that the discard Alexander Patrick could not cope with his two children. The fact that we had found a solution for Angus made no difference. Early in the New Year, Malcolm Talbot put in his report, recommending that the Patrick boys be taken away from their father and placed in a more secure and normal environment.

Chapter 9

Wednesday 1 January, 2054

It was the day after Hogmanay; it was a cold dreary day and already past midday when Laurel came down to breakfast with a soppy smile on her face. Chris looked at her daughter indulgently. ‘Okay, so who is he?’ she asked, placing a mug of very strong coffee on the table.

‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Laurel. She still sounded sleepy.

‘Something to eat?’

Laurel groaned.

Chris sat down at the table. ‘So?’ she said. ‘Tell me; who is he?’

‘The most wonderful man ever!’

‘Naturally, what else?’

Laurel gave a secret smile. ‘He’s perfect!’

‘So, it was a good party then?’

‘Oh, Mum!’

Chris rose impatiently to her feet. ‘Well, if he’s that bad, I can understand why you want to keep him secret.’

‘Mum, he’s amazing!’

Chris pretended indifference and began stacking plates and cups away. Laurel sat pretending indifference as well, but she lacked her mother’s stamina. ‘He’s a doctor,’ she began.

Chris turned round. ‘What! How old is he?’

Laurel laughed. ‘A student doctor; he’s studying at Cambridge.’

Chris calmed down. ‘A good place,’ she said.

‘He’s amazingly good looking, witty, charming and fun.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he is.’

‘Come on, Mum, you’ll like him; his family’s Scottish.’

‘Scottish?’

‘Yes. When I told him about you, he perked up, said his grandfather was Scottish.’

‘And his father?’

‘Canadian.’

Chris felt her heart give a lurch. ‘And does this wonderful man have a name?’

Laurel was still smiling in a dreamy way. ‘Oh, yes!’

Chris waited as Laurel took a gulp of hot coffee. ‘It’s James,’ she said at last.

‘Second name?’

‘Patrick, James Patrick.’

There was a resounding crash as Chris dropped the large pot she had been holding.

********************

Chris stood at her media station staring at the pictures. Laurel came up beside her. Chris was so preoccupied that she failed to hear her. ‘Oh, my God!’ whispered Laurel, ‘It’s James! At least ... no, it’s not. He looks different.’

‘This is his father, Laurel.’

Laurel gasped in realisation. ‘Did you ...?’

Chris shook her head. ‘No, not David – Alexander.’ She pointed at the screen.

Laurel screwed up her eyes as she gazed at the image. ‘It’s not a very good picture of him,’ she said. ‘His eyes look funny; the picture has made them that weird yellow colour.’

‘That’s not the fault of the camera,’ said Chris. ‘That’s how he looked, and I loved him very much.’

********************

Laurel sat down with her mother. ‘Why not tell me about it, Mum?’ she asked gently.

Chris sighed. ‘His name was Alexander Patrick, and I did a terrible thing to him.’

‘I can’t believe that.’

Chris sat nursing her cup of coffee. ‘I met him at Oxford,’ she began. ‘Your grandfather had finally been persuaded to leave St Andrew’s by Pandora, and it was all down to the young and brilliant David Patrick. I joined Granddad there in January 2034. I was twenty-four years old, a recent graduate and an aspiring architect, and I met and fell in love with Alexander.

‘David Patrick may have been a brilliant mathematician, but he was also deafblind, and his carer was his brother Alexander. David was always there, the constant companion. I had to accept that fact, and I did, partly because I believed there would come a time when David’s wife Sam would return and set up home with him – especially if children came along. I was sure circumstances would change and we would be free of David as the natural domestic duties and routine claimed us all. I made the assumption there would come a time when I would be the most important and crucially only person in Alexander’s life.

‘But what I failed to realise was that Alexander had lied to me.’

Laurel looked surprised.

‘Alexander was partially sighted. It could be so bad; there were days when he could see very little, if anything at all.’

‘And you didn’t notice?’ asked Laurel incredulously.

‘He was so good at disguising it! I don’t think even David knew how bad his carer’s eyesight could be. Alexander made sure of that. He hid his disability from nearly everyone.’ She took a sip from her coffee. ‘I only found out when I went out drinking with the Lawrence girls one night. Kate and Lydia were the daughters of the leading member of Pandora, Professor Tony Lawrence. In a drunken giggle, they both confessed their attraction to the blind Patrick boys. And that was when I finally understood; all those times he’d failed to comment on my appearance, all those occasions when I’d called him clumsy. I finally understood everything.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I was furious. I left him and returned to Glasgow.’

‘Is that what you meant when you said you did a terrible thing to him?’

‘I wish it were!’ cried Chris. ‘The fact is I couldn’t forget him. Everyone I met seemed dull compared to my clever, funny man with bright yellow eyes. Anything else felt just too ordinary, and so I went back to him.

‘In doing so, I had to accept that Alexander and David were united in a way that was unlikely to be broken. I thought I could live with that; I thought our love would be strong enough to accept that extra burden, but I was wrong. I was wrong because I saw too much.

‘Every day I witnessed examples of David’s selfish, even brutal attitude towards Alexander. I watched as David played games with Alexander’s feelings and emotions. David may have been blind and deaf, but he had an uncanny understanding of the man who cared and watched over him. He seemed to know exactly how to ensure that, at all times, he had what he wanted when he wanted it. He gave Alexander no freedom, and soon I found myself fighting for Alexander’s time, attention and sometimes even his love.

‘I began to resent it. I began to resent David, and I began to resent a relationship founded on guilt, time-served and love – a combination I could see no way of fighting.

‘All of which meant that, when the time came, that most important time, when my love for him was tested to its full, I failed.’

Laurel reached out and touched her mother’s hand. Chris was crying freely now.

‘We were engaged to be married when Alexander’s father died. He was twenty-two years old when social care came and took him away, and the only way he could be brought home again was by me agreeing to marry him. I knew that, and yet I gave my engagement ring back and walked out of their lives. I walked away and went on to accept the first man to ask me to marry him.

‘I escaped and left Alexander to the now notorious Section Twenty-six.’

‘But why?’ said Laurel.

‘I genuinely believed I was giving Alexander his freedom as well. Calling him back at that time would have served no one but David, and I had no intention of doing that.

‘How could I have known what was happening? How could I have known the hell I was consigning him to?’

‘What happened to him?’

‘He died – of course he died. Someone tortured him and then ...’

Laurel shuddered.

‘And you know what? It was all David Patrick’s fault. If it were not for him, everything could have been different. I would not have suffered a failed marriage, I would have married my wonderful unusual man, and I would have been happy.’

Laurel sat immersed in her thoughts. ‘So where does that leave me?’ she asked.

Chris wiped away her tears. ‘This has nothing to do with you and James, and, to prove it, I’ll visit the family and make my peace with them.’

‘Don’t you mean make your peace with yourself?’ asked Laurel.

‘That as well,’ replied Chris with a faint smile.

Chapter 10

Nightmares still pursue me, even now, after all these years. Dreams of pain and helpless endurance, dreams of long nights of humiliation, such dreams of terrible suffering and no one to take them away, no one to put gentle arms around me and tell the dreams to go away, just my own loneliness and despair.

When I thought they could punish me no more, when I thought that Matrix had served his sentence, they found another way; they found one more way they could make me suffer. They discovered my weakness, where I was most fragile, where I would hurt the most.

Sonia took my children from me; they were returned, and I was allowed to rejoice. Then they did the unthinkable; they threatened to take them away again, and they chose a beautiful woman to do