The godsons inheritance, p.7
The Godsons Inheritance, page 7
With that the meeting broke up in a flurry of smiles and good intentions.
So in spite of Beth’s initial reluctance, Ben joined the local ‘Young Carers’ group and a few days later went, with great apprehension, to his first meeting.
At one stage he almost turned around and went back home but he felt if he did so he’d be letting his Mum and Andy down.
‘After all it was me that started this. If Mum can do it, so can I.’ he said under his breath opening the large glass entrance door.
The meeting was in a local church hall, so he didn’t have far to travel. The leader of the group was expecting him and went straight across as he entered and warmly welcomed him.
‘Hello, my name is Penny. Welcome to our group. Don’t be shy. You will find that all the young people here have challenges in their lives, so please feel free, if you wish, to share your own to whomever you want.
We offer you support, a voice and fellowship with other young people who share similar circumstances to yourself.’
She introduced him to several people including a skinny 14 year old girl called Janie.
‘Hi, so what goes on here then?’ Ben asked, looking around at the group
‘Hi, I’m Janie. Oh we do lots of things. We have people coming to see us and talk to us about various things. And we do games and stuff.
Last week we had somebody from the local Round Table who set up some Wiis and we played games all evening. It was great. He even brought his family along too and they joined in the games. I think the Round Table also make donations to ‘Young Carers’ because we are a charity, apparently.’
‘Oh, I see.’
During the evening Ben discovered that Janie was the principle carer for her Mother who was suffering from MS and who, like Ben, came from a single parent family.
‘The ‘Young Carers’ also organise weekends in April and October where people on camp are invited to tell everybody about their personal problems.’
‘I go camping with the Scouts.’ Ben said, dismissively.
‘This isn’t in tents. They got proper cabins that sleep four people.’
‘Different.’ Ben admitted.
‘You meet kids in similar circumstances. They talk about developing coping skills and stuff.’ Janie added.
‘I’ve had to develop my own,’ Ben informed her. ‘Sounds pretty dreary if you ask me.’
But Janie persisted. ‘They have experts from other organisations who come and chat about problems with drugs and alcohol, you know. Substance misuse...’
‘There’s nothing they can’t tell me about that, I’ve seen it all with my Mum. If that’s all, I think I’ll give it a miss, thanks.’
‘No that’s not it. They put on lots of fun activities.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, although it’s not really an activity weekend, they make sure it’s fun. There’s archery, raft building, games in the lake and kayaking of course, African drumming…’
‘Oh I’ve never done that before.’
‘Karaoke…’
‘I always fancied myself as a singer in a boy band,’ Ben admitted, a hint of enthusiasm creeping in to his voice.
‘And lots of team build stuff.’
‘Oh, we do that in our patrols at scouts too.’
‘Workshops in the morning and evening,’ Janie continued, reeling off the list.
‘What like carpentry and stuff?’
‘No! It’s talking about things,’ she amplified.
‘Anyway, I don’t think I’d like sharing my family problems with strangers,’ Ben reiterated.
‘Why not? Everybody knows what problems I have looking after my Mum. Anyway I bet within a couple of hours you’ll unwind and tell them everything. You don’t have to worry. Nobody judges you,’ she sought to reassure him.
‘Yeah but your problems different to mine and anyway you’re a girl and…’
‘And what do you mean by that?’ Janie’s hackles rose.
‘Well you girls talk about things that us ‘guys’ wouldn’t dream of sharing.’
‘Perhaps that’s why you ‘guys’ are so uptight and aggressive all the time. You need to get it off your chest. You’ll feel better for it I promise you,’ she argued.
‘No I don’t think so,’ Ben decided, he had learnt that the old adage- ‘least said, soonest mended’, was much better.
‘Please yourself, but if you want to just talk to me about them I promise not to tell anybody else,’ Janie offered.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know you,’ Ben said sceptically.
‘That’s OK, when you’re ready.’
Ben thought about the things he would love to offload. His wish list included his uneasy relationship with the Police; his Mothers unpredictable behaviour and drinking problem; the strange men she brought into their house, the hunt for his Dad; the fear of being taken in to Care; the death of his friend Geoffery Foster and the desecration of his grave and finally the threats from Rupert’s missus, Sue. She really was a scary lady. At least she was now locked up in prison.
The more he thought about it the better it sounded to talk to somebody about it all and get it off his chest.
‘I ride a bike too,’ Janie said, breaking into Ben’s thoughts.’
‘Do you? What, a pink one with painted flowers on the frame?’ he teased.
‘No, cheeky sod,’ she screeched indignantly. ‘I’ve done Mountain Bike races,’ she elaborated.
Ben’s ears pricked up. Here was a girl after his own heart. A bike racer. Perhaps things were going to be alright after all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘Quick, get down Tim,’ Carrie instructed, urgently pulling him to the ground.
‘What?’
‘Over there, behind the trees.’ She said pointing.
‘What?’ Tim asked, peering in the direction of her gaze.
‘Sniper.’ Carrie whispered, continuing to stare.
‘Carrie. Effing hell! A sniper? For Chrissake there’s no bleeding sniper.’ He ranted, pushing himself up. ‘We’re in the Cotswolds not Afghanistan.’
‘Get down you fool,’ Carrie shouted, grabbing his sleeve.
Tim shrugged her hand off aggressively. ‘Will you stop this crap?’
Carrie looked up at him frantically, ‘Get down before he gets a bead on you,’ she implored, expecting any moment to see his head explode as the sniper found his mark.
‘Carrie. You’re in England now,’ he ranted, reaching down and pulling her up.
‘England? Carrie repeated, puzzled, looking around vacantly.
‘That’s it. I’ve had enough. Either you get yourself sorted or I’m off.’
Carrie looked around her and suddenly recognised her surroundings.
‘Oh God’, she said eyes brimming. ‘I saw a flash from over by the trees. I thought it was a trap. Oh Tim, I’m sorry,’ she sobbed, falling into his arms.
‘You…we can’t go on like this Carrie. You need to see somebody. Get it sorted for good,’ he begged her.
‘No, I can do this myself…with your help.’ She said, sobbing.
‘You keep saying that but you’re getting worse, not better.’ He pulled her tight to his chest. Frightened at what she would do next.
‘I mustn’t give in…who dares…’
‘Not in this case. Forget the bleeding SAS motto. You need professional help. Get help or I’m off,’ he threatened.
‘Tim…’
‘I tell you I’ve had enough. What with your violent nightmares. You’re bleeding well kicking me black and blue.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help it,’ she wailed.
‘I know,’ he said holding her. ‘You can’t see it, but you’ve changed. Your demeanour…it’s frigging scary.’
‘If I do, what will happen about the walking company? We’ve worked so hard to create it,’ she whimpered. ‘All our hard work…will be for nothing.’
‘Don’t worry about that. You get yourself sorted and I’ll do what I can to keep things ticking over until you’re fit again,’ Tim reassured.
‘It might take a long time,’ Carrie predicted.
‘That’s OK. I’ll be here for you,’ he reassured, hugging her tighter.
‘What about the conditions of the will?’ she asked, suddenly realising, the future of the walking company depended on fulfilling certain criteria before Tim’s legacy would be released.
‘I’ll worry about that. You concentrate on getting better.’
The next day, after several aborted attempts, Carrie contacted the veteran’s organisation ‘Combat Stress’. She was greeted with kindly understanding as she explained her problem.
‘I can fit you in tomorrow for an appointment, if you can make it?’ The receptionist informed her.
‘Yes I’ll be there,’ Carrie confirmed, looking at Tim for reassurance.
‘See, that wasn’t difficult, was it? he said, giving her a light kiss.
‘No. But that’s just the start.’
‘You’ll be OK. I’m sure,’ he encouraged, more in hope than judgement.
The initial appointment led on to a five day assessment, where Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was confirmed by a psychiatrist.
‘Well what happens next?’ Carrie asked.
‘We have a place available on a course which will help to start the healing process.
It consists of another ten day assessment – group therapy and one to one sessions with a lead nurse worker.
After that we usually find that it is beneficial to attend a PTSD Intensive Treatment programme along with six other veterans.’
At first Carrie was sceptical that anyone could help her but slowly things started to improve.
The sessions were full on. Supervised by a psychologist, she found herself working with a group of others who had similar flashbacks and experienced bizarre incidents.
Most importantly the sessions helped her understand that the guilt she suffered as a survivor was perfectly normal. Survivor’s syndrome often caused nightmares and mood swings.
The staff reinforced the reality that fate had played a hand in the fortunes of her less fortunate colleagues who didn’t come home. And nothing that she could have done would have changed that.
They told her, what she already knew, but didn’t believe that in spite of ‘beating herself up’; she could have done nothing to have saved them.
It was a teary and very emotionally painful period. But slowly she felt herself getting better each day. Her mood swings reduced considerably.
She had also been advised of a technique to help her to control her terrible memories. It entailed imagining that she was putting her nightmarish dreams and bad recollections into a box and locking them away.
‘You just post all your nightmares and bad thoughts in there,’ the psychologist explained.
‘How? Do you need an actual box?’ she queried.
‘Some people find seeing a physical box is easier than imagining one. It’s up to you what you feel will work for you.’
‘You mean you don’t physically write something and post it in?’
‘You can do that as well if you want. Or you can psychologically post your nightmares in there. Whatever you decide, believe in your choice.’
‘But how do you keep them in there?’
‘Imagine there’s a flap in the top, like a letterbox.’
‘But how do you stop the bad thoughts escaping when you open the flap to put another in?’
‘You mentally put a one way valve in it. What’s in - stays in.’
‘Do people really feel better after they’ve posted their bad thoughts?’
‘Yes. Most people who try it find it works. But it takes some time to learn the technique.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You’ve got to be strong and really want to get rid of your bad thoughts. Otherwise you’ll find that you can’t put them in there. They will just continue to haunt you.’
‘What’s to stop the bad thoughts reoccurring?’
‘You.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have to be convinced that you really want to get rid of them from messing with your head.’
‘Oh! But surely that’s difficult to control.’
‘Yes, it is. But unless you do your nightmares will probably continue.’
‘I can see that. But…what if they all escape at the same time?’
‘Conceivably you could be overwhelmed by all your bad thoughts and you could be in serious trouble…It might lead to a breakdown.’
‘Bloody hell!’
‘But don’t think of the bad things. Think of the good things, it’s a positive way forward. And once you start, you will feel better. Keeping the bad thoughts in the box becomes easier and easier as you regain your confidence.’
Although sceptical at first, she gave it a go. Without really noticing any major step change, she, however, found that her flashbacks had reduced considerably.
Tim noticed the difference in her and he too felt a lot happier, more relaxed.
As a bonus, the course also enabled Carrie to ‘sell’ the services of the ‘Just Do It Walking’ company to the clinic.
The task was made easier because the doctors were already strong believers that regular contact with the natural environment was a good medicine for people recovering from PTSD and other ailments. Medically proven research showed that endorphins released during the exercise created a ‘feel good’ factor thus improving people’s general demeanour.
It was a ‘win- win’ situation Carrie was getting to grips with controlling her PTSD episodes and felt good that she’d made up for her short absence by bringing business in to the Walking Company. And the other Service people suffering from depression got a special tailored deal too.
Tim was happy that their relationship was back on track.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Beth had been deeply hurt by Ben’s accusation that she did nothing for him. True, they didn’t go anywhere together, but she felt that they had a good relationship. Not so much Mother and Son but more akin to being good friends.
However, she was determined to prove that she was a good Mother and asked Andy if they could hold a ‘surprise’ birthday party for Ben at the Scout Hut.
Andy gladly agreed and made an arrangement with Ben to come to the hut after school on the pretext that he wanted help to move some kit into the store.
As the time approached for Ben to arrive at the Scout hut Andy peeped out through a crack in the door and spotted Ben arriving on his bike.
He rushed back into the kitchen and got everyone except Beth to hide.
Ben walked into the kitchen where he was greeted by Beth holding a birthday cake with fifteen lighted candles.
‘Happy Birthday son,’ she said, smiling.
‘Mum!’ he said in surprise.
Beth was ‘dressed up to the nine’s’. Her hair and makeup perfect. However her night clubbing clothes of tight, sparkly sequined skirt, ruffled white blouse and high heels were totally out of place in the Scout hut. But at least she’d made the effort for Ben’s special day.
People emerged from their hiding places and sang a chorus of ‘happy birthday’ to him.
Ben was shocked. This sort of thing had never happened to him before. It was an even greater pleasure because when he’d left for school that morning Beth didn’t even wish him a happy birthday, let alone give him a card.
Consequently he’d spent the day bemoaning the fact that she had forgotten altogether.
‘You’ve got to blow the candles out all in one,’ she said smiling. ‘Don’t forget to make a wish.’
Ben took a huge breath and succeeded in his task, he wished that all his birthdays would be like this, surrounded by friends and family.
He was the centre of attraction and he beamed at the smiling crowd which, as well as his Mum and Andy, included Helen, Amy and baby Molly, James, Ben’s Grandad Harold and some of his Scouting mates.
‘Happy birthday Ben, we’ve bought you a little present,’ Andy said, giving Amy a small brightly coloured package to give to him.
‘Thank you Amy,’ Ben said, kneeling down to take it from the equally excited little girl.
‘I helped my Mummy with the wrapping paper,’ she informed him.
‘Did you? Well I think you did very well,’ he praised.
Unused to receiving birthday presents, he felt obliged to study the label it read. ‘Happy birthday from Helen, Andy, Amy, Molly and cousin Rose’.
‘Thank you folks.’
And then he hastily demolished the carefully crafted wrapping, paper flying everywhere as he excitedly ripped into it.
‘A mobile phone!’ he exclaimed in astonished amazement. ‘Mum, I’ve got a mobile. Wow! A Samsung Galaxy! Brilliant.’ Ben yelled, taking it out of the box.
‘I thought as you’d showed great dexterity using somebody else’s…’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Ben answered, guiltily.
‘…it was about time you had one of your own.’
‘Is it OK if I give you a hug?’ Ben asked, looking at Andy.
‘Of course,’ Andy confirmed.
Ben moved to him and they hugged.
‘Happy birthday Ben,’ Andy whispered. ‘Let’s hope you enjoy using it. I thought that at fifteen, you’re old enough to have one. By the way it’s PAYG and your Grandad has put thirty pounds on it. So it should last for a day or two.’
‘Thank you Grandad,’ Ben acknowledged, enthusiastically hugging him too.
‘My pleasure son.’
‘I’ve bought you a little something too,’ James added, handing over a large squidgy feeling parcel.
‘This is great. I’ve never had so many presents. Thanks. How exciting is this?’ Ben’s fingers eagerly ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a yellow cycling jersey and a pair of black cycling shorts.
‘Thank you, thank you very much,’ Ben said hugging James as well.
Ben spotted his Mother looking crestfallen and gave her a hug too.
‘Sorry Ben, I couldn’t afford much,’ she said, giving him a small package. ‘By the time I’d bought the nibbles…’
‘It’s OK Mum, don’t worry,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m sure it’ll be great. Anyway your main present to me is this party. And that you’re here and…sober. I know how difficult it is for you.’
