Date: Tue, 29 Apr 2003 23:22:41 +0100
From: Angela Mynah <angela_mynah@msn.com>
Subject: The Martyr to Ignorance

The Martyr to Ignorance.

A short story by Angela Mynah

Angela_mynah@msn.com

This story is dedicated to JustinCase 1956 - 2003.  It was an honour and a
privilege to have known him.

This story refers to cross generational sex of a homosexual nature.
If this story is illegal in your area or you are offended by such material,
leave now.

Whilst this story can be free standing, you will get far more of an
understanding from it if you read `For the love of a Bigot' first.


http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/for-the-love-of-a-bigot


This story is fictional, however the issue that is raised in it, is not.
This story deals with a very disturbing subject.  However, it is meant to
educate, enlighten and entertain rather than frighten the reader.  Although
descriptions are based on case history, care should be taken to remember
that this is a fictional story.  Take the time to read and reflect, for you
could save a life."

Finally I would also like to thank Charlie, the author of `Donny' for his
assistance and support in the writing of this story. His research into this
subject has saved me a great deal of time and effort. Without his help this
story would never have been completed.

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/donny/


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                         The Martyr to Ignorance.


     When you go to a funeral, the priest normally points out that it is not
a time for sorrow, but a time for joy, and that the service is a celebration
of a life lived, not the commiseration of a life ended. Technically that is
true, However, when the coffin in front of you contains a child, it is so
difficult to keep that theological point in mind. All you want to do is
scream out "WHY?"

     Derek's Funeral had been a very sad affair. It had been attended by his
grandmother and his sister. Also present were Andrew and his parents. Nobody
else bothered to turn up to say goodbye to an eleven year old boy, who died,
saving his friends life by pushing him out of the way of a drunken driver.

     Andrew had cried throughout the service, mourning the boy whom he had
tormented because the child was homosexual. Mourning the boy who had said he
loved him. Mourning the child who had saved his life.

     Yes. A child's funeral is the final chapter in a tragedy, but this
child's funeral was a tragedy of the worst kind, it could have been avoided
if the signs had been seen. It would never have happened if people had not
just listened, but had heard. This was not Derek's funeral. Oh no, that had
taken place five months ago. This was Andrew's funeral.

     The funeral of a boy so destroyed by the weight of guilt that he bore,
that he took a razor to his bedroom, and wasn't found till the following
morning, lying in a blood soaked bed, the arteries in both his wrist
severed.

     The letter he had left was long and detailed. It was obvious to his
parents and the police that not only had he been writing it over a number of
days, but he had decided on this action about two weeks beforehand possibly
much longer.

     The priest at the crematorium looked at the assembled company. He too
was screaming out the question "Why?" but only to himself.  His standing
within the local community put him in an insidious position. He knew too
much. He knew why Andrew had done it, He was asking himself "Why did he fail
to stop it". He knew who had not done what, and how people had felt. That is
often the way with those who hear confessions. And he had heard many
recently, regarding both Andrew and Derek.

     There was nobody to blame and there was nobody dishing blame out. It
was a list of errors and omissions which lead to this service, and the
priest was wondering if lessons could be learned. He was also doubting his
ability to be the teacher, he too had missed signs. He was also doubting his
church. Not his faith in God, no, that was as rock solid as it had ever
been. It was his faith in the people who say they do Gods willing that he
was having trouble with. His bosses and the powers that be. The church
authorities.

     They had taken a stance against homosexuality and little Derek had
rather come out of the closet. The priest had so wanted the funeral to take
place in the church, after all the boy had made the ultimate sacrifice, just
as the priests beliefs told him another had done, some two thousand years
before, but the authorities had blocked a church service so the local
crematorium had to be the venue.

     When Andrew's funeral was organised, again the priest wanted a church
service, but again no. `Thou shalt not kill' included ones self. Andrew was
dead as a direct result of his having broken the sixth commandment. He too
was therefore barred from having a church service. Such intolerance towards
these two children was, in the priests eyes, an affront to the very God
these people claimed to represent. Where was this `Forgiveness' they always
spoke out about.

     The Priest stood at the pulpit looking down on the tearful
congregation.  He looked at the sermon he had written. It was all about how
the evils of drink had taken the life of first boy, and now indirectly, the
second. He looked back at the people. They all looked to him for
explanations, answers, anything that they could cling to. He took his sermon
and, in front of the mourners, slowly tore it up into little pieces.

     "Andrew deserves better than this. Andrew deserves a sermon from the
heart, not one from notes rattled off in the comfort of my office. So I am
going to `Wing it' here, as they say. Please bear with me should I falter.

     "This is a time to think. A time for reflection. Now is the time for
each of us here to find out how we failed. Yes, we FAILED. Now I can hear
you all asking ,`Surely with failure comes blame. We are responsible for our
failures.' No my friends that is not so.

     "King Canute of England, Failed to stop the tide from turning. Was he
to blame? Was he responsible for the tide. No my friends he was not. If a
man sees a boulder falling towards him and puts his hand up to stop it, he
will fail. Is that his fault? Is he to blame? No my friends he is not."

     He paused trying to see if his words were being heard rather than just
echoing round the packed crematorium. He certainly seemed to have
everybody's attention.

     "We, as a caring society, failed to see the torment of one of our own
members. You all failed to see it and I failed to see it. I was reading
recently that the signs are often there but one needs expert training to
read them. We are not experts in that field. Please, ladies and gentlemen,
no, brothers and sisters, do not hold yourselves responsible for that
failure, but learn from it"

     The priest looked again at the faces and in particular he noticed Anton
Schreider, the headmaster from Andrews's school. He was looking at the floor
and gently shaking. He had seen the signs. He had listened to Andrew not
four days after Derek's ashes had been scattered in the local garden of
remembrance. He had been cross with Andrew and his display of self pity.

     "I don't know why you are crying boy" he had said, "everybody heard you
shout at poor Derek, what was it now?, Oh yes I remember now, it was `Now
fuck off out of my life Faggot, fuck off and die' I believe, yes that was
it. Well son, your friend has done what you told him too, yet again, as he
always did, so what are you complaining about?"

     Such harsh words to a sixteen year old. The headmaster sat in the
crematorium pew and wished for all the world he could take those words back,
but there it was. There was the coffin at the head of the chapel of rest,
inside it was the body of a boy who had not been suffering a short dose of
self pity, He had been racked with guilt, and the belief that everyone who
knew him, hated him.

     The headmaster went over those words time and time again, knowing now
that the lad had gone to him for help, and did he get it? No. Did he receive
the support that he so desperately needed? No he did not. The establishment
turned its back on him. The man who had represented the establishment that
day, had cold shouldered Andrew totally. And it was he, Anton Schreider, who
had been that representative. Mr. Schreider, permitted himself the luxury of
some more tears.

     The priest continued with his impromptu sermon. "So for the basis of
this sermon I will use a joke, Yes ladies and gentlemen, a joke. It was one
that Andrew told me and just for the moment I think it rather relevant."
"...So the lord said unto the crowd, `Let he who is without sin cast the
first stone...Oh Mother! YOU had to be here didn't you?"

     "We all carry a lot of responsibility for the tragedy here before us,
but that is not necessarily reason enough to carry the guilt of the outcome.
Collectively we may have been able to avert this disaster, but then again
possibly not. We do not have the learning. None of us here is qualified to
throw that first stone, nor to have that stone cast toward us."

     It was odd that Ralph Leatherhood was crying. He was one who's
intervention was the nearest to finding the truth, but cry he did. Although
one of his more recent meetings with Andrew had been fiery to say the least,
his last meeting with the boy was entirely different. He was the teacher who
Andrew had caught taking sexual advantage of young Derek in the classroom
when the boy was at his most vulnerable. He was the teacher who Andrew had
tried to kick in the face. Then again he was also probably the last human to
give Andrew a cuddle. Ralph was a boylover and he missed both Andrew and
Derek terribly.

     Obviously the fact that he was a boylover was unknown to everybody. The
only two who had ever found out were now both dead. It had been two weeks
before Andrew finally took his own life that Ralph had seen the lad, sitting
alone on the bench, apparently shunned by his peers, quietly sobbing to
himself. He sat next to him and put his arm on the boys shoulder, pulling
the lad to him.

     "It's ok to cry son, It was a great shock to us all and I can imagine
how you must have felt when it happened"

     "I called him some horrible things. I did some horrible things to him
too. He kept telling me he loved me. He even said it when his face was
covered in my spit. He still said he loved me, even then, after all that. He
didn't think I had heard it but I had."

     Andrew looked at the arm over his shoulder then looked at Ralph
quizzically. Ralph responded instantly to the look.

     "There are times when two males can be touching without there being any
sexual intention. Please believe that I feel for you as a lad with a lot on
his mind that won't go away. My intentions towards you are purely as someone
you can talk to, someone who's shoulder you can cry on. You mustn't hold
your feelings in, it will do you no good at all"

     "Thanks Mr Leatherhood, I really don't mind about your arm now, not
like I used to. I don't feel much about anything like I used to. I have made
up my mind about one thing though, I will stop crying for Derek very soon
now. May I ask you a personal question please sir?"

     "Of course you may Andrew, you may ask me anything you want and I will
do my best to give as full an answer as I can. I will certainly be honest
with you. What do you want to know?"

     "Do you believe in life after death? You know all those religious
things. What do you believe has happened to Derek? Do you think I will ever
see him again? If being homosexual is wicked and there a hell, yet love is
good and there is a heaven, which one will win?"

     Ralph was stunned into silence for a moment. Was this a question or
what! He looked into Andrew's hazel eyes, trying to read the thoughts behind
them. There was no emotion left in them, all that had been drained out of
the lad over the last few weeks. The soft crying that had been noticed by
most people from time to time was the only time now that Andrew let any
feelings show, and he was even hiding that as much as he could. All Ralph
could see in those eyes, was that they were waiting for an answer.

     "I believe in the existence of an all powerful deity. Christians call
it `God' other religions have other names for it. Buddha, Allah and there
are many others. Small tribes who had not till recent years been in contact
with other civilisations have all had these beliefs. That is why I consider
it inevitable that some such a deity exists. I don't know what it likes to
be called, and as far as the details about who should do what for it, well,
they are the inventions of the men who tell us how to worship it.

     "There are some things that seem to run true with all or at least most
forms of religion. Those include the existence of an after life and that
good will triumph over evil. Lastly I believe that this deity is a forgiving
one, as that theme also seems to run within all these different sects."

     Ralph looked at Andrew once more to see if his words were helping in
any way. Much to his surprise Andrew was highly attentive, this was a great
step forward as since Derek's funeral, Andrew seemed to have rather lost the
ability to concentrate, such was the depth of his depression. Ralph went on,

     "It is my fundamental belief that if you are as good as you can be, and
you are true to yourself, you are on the right tracks to please that deity.
Also if you do `go wrong' and manage to put it right then that too pleases
it. Lastly if you go wrong but there is no way of putting that wrong right,
then prayer to the deity admitting your error and doing your best never to
repeat it will lead that deity to forgive you. It is a simplistic view of
religion but it has always worked for me"

     Ralph thought Andrew seemed satisfied with the answer as although it
told him little about his meeting with Derek again, it gave him a route to
salvation. Ralph was sure that this was all that the lad needed for now, the
rest of the discussion could take place later when he was feeling a bit
brighter.

     Only now, sitting in the crematorium did Ralph realise what Andrew was
asking, even then, two weeks ago, sitting next to him the boy was planning
to go to meet Derek. He had tried to tell his teacher and although his
teacher had listened, he had not heard. What was it the boy said? "I will
stop crying for Derek very soon now" Ralph could not believe he let that
comment slip passed him. He did not know that the lad's long period of
inattentiveness and his sudden change of attitude were things to watch for.
Teacher training had never mentioned how a sudden interest in death and its
consequences should have set him on his guard. He knew all that now, but it
was all too late for the cold contents of the box in front of him. He prayed
to that deity of his, promising to try to do better in future. He too
permitted himself the luxury of shedding some more tears.

     The priest looked over the congregation. Almost nobody was looking at
him now, most were looking at the floor with handkerchiefs to their eyes as
he spoke softly about love and what goes wrong when it seems to be missing.
This, the second young persons funeral in less than a year was about love
every bit as much as the first, though this one was of a lad who felt
unloved by all. Even though that was not the case, it was how the lad
perceived it and that was enough.

     His eyes then fell upon Derek's sister and her grandmother. That they
too seemed to be weeping slightly, was a pleasant surprise to the priest. It
was more than they did at Derek's funeral. They had chatted throughout that
one, paying no attention to his sermon and  scant regard to the feelings of
Andrew and his parents. It had been then that Andrew had realised that not
only had Derek loved him but there had been nobody in the world who had
loved Derek till the last few seconds of his pathetically short life. It was
that realisation that had started the thinking process that would eventually
seal Andrew's fate.

     No, those two were not chuckling and chatting now. It was as if for the
first time, they were waking up to what was going on around them. It had
been obvious that they had attended Derek's funeral as a matter of duty.
Failure to do so would certainly have had them shunned by the neighbours,
and that was never to be allowed. What they had not bargained on was that
Andrew himself, would go round to their house to apologise for the boys
death, for which he now held himself fully responsible. This was outside
their thinking. He was offering himself to do any of the chores that Derek
had done in the past, without any pay of course.

     This had amused Sarah, Derek's sister, who immediately told Andrew a
list of jobs that Derek would have had to do after school and at the
weekends, cutting the grass, washing up and vacuuming the house to name but
three. One look at the lawn, which was well tended, followed by a far from
close inspection of the mower, which was rusted up, showed Andrew that Derek
never did that duty, no, but Andrew remembered seeing a gardener who used
his own equipment working there.

     It was obvious to Andrew that these two females who had shown no love
of Derek were just using this offer to `cut their bills' as much as their
grass. This overt lack of affection from the only ones from whom Derek
should have had a right to expect love, just caused Andrew to sink deeper
into his depression and to within himself. He still decided to do as they
bid as if to pay penance for his actions.

     Several of the congregation noticed the two women weeping for Andrew,
and it was muttered about the room that this was too little, too late, and
for the wrong boy. The priest heard this comment too and he was sure that
the two women had heard it also. He was finding it difficult to disagree
with their opinion.

     Of all the people there, it was certain that these two were the only
ones whose own selfishness could be accredited with any of the blame. They
had not listened let alone heard. They may have seen all the signs that
existed but were too wrapped up within their own little world to worry about
other people. They had tried to use Andrew's feelings of guilt unmercifully
until Mr Davis found out what his son was doing for them and put a stop to
it.

     He had been tempted to throw them out of the service but decided
against that course of action, as the scene it would cause would take away
from the dignity of the occasion. He saw them weep but only saw the real
self pity that Andrew had been accused of wallowing in.

     That was the opinion held by all the people there of the two women, and
the women knew it, and that's why they wept. The priest continued,

     "So what can we learn from this tragedy? Well we know that it is not
sufficient just to love a person, sometimes that person needs reminding of
that affection, and as in this case those reminders must be solid and
sustained. When a person believes the world is against him, he needs proof
positive that he is wrong and that he is loved"

     Andrew's father, Arthur Davis, had been trying so hard to maintain his
composure, mainly to try to give Alice, his wife, the strength she needed to
get through this day. Listening to the priest suggesting that Andrew had
believed that he was not loved by anybody, including them, was too much.

     As with the breaking of any dam, it's not long after the cracks show
that the walls break and the water flows.

     He remembered saying to Andrew the day that the lads venom had been
liberally served to young Derek,

      "You be proud of this days work son, because I cannot be."

      Was that enough to make Andrew think he was no longer loved by his
father? It couldn't be so, he remembered telling his son that he would
always be loved. Just how much proof had Andrew wanted? Why had the boy not
said anything? Pangs of guilt were starting and Arthur started to blame
himself for the death of his only son.

     He had been told by several people, including the doctor, that it would
be inevitable. Arthur would blame himself. He should not do so, but nobody
had told him why.

     He thought back over the final days of his boy's life. How did he not
see that something was so terribly wrong? Everything Andrew had been doing
was different from his normal behaviour. Why had Arthur not seen this? Why
had he not talked to his son? Where had he been when his son had needed him
most?

     He knew that Alice was watching him, and now he was going to fail her
too. As he looked at the casket so very close to them, that dam finally
broke and so did Arthur. He shook with tears and grief as he openly wept.

     Arthur had been unaware that Alice too was blaming herself for this
tragedy. She too had thought that she should have heard alarm bells at
Andrew's behaviour. She too held herself responsible for piling on the agony
to him.

      "For every tear Derek sheds, Andrew will shed ten"

     She remembered saying it as she and Arthur had tried to clean Derek's
head of the word `Bigot'. It must have sounded to Andrew that Derek was the
only loved one in that house.

     She thought of when she forced her own son to strip off in front of
Derek, Arthur and herself, then ordered him to offer himself unreservedly to
the homosexual boy. It was something that Andrew so obviously hated, she
wondered if it really was the action of a loving parent. Was that the straw
that broke the camels back?

     She had to keep telling herself that she did love her son. All these
memories were on the negative side because of the nature of Andrew's death.
She turned to look at her husband just as he broke down. Of course they love
him. They both loved him like mad. They really should have told him more
often whilst he was in his teens, that difficult age where everything is all
or nothing.

     Through her tears she found herself confused. It had been three days
before Andrew took his own life that, for no reason whatsoever, he walked
through the kitchen, kissed her on the cheek and said "Love you" on his way
to see some friend. She had called after him "Love you back" as he went. He
had been carrying a package, she had no idea of its contents and had never
asked. She wondered if it was important, but it was all rather too late now.

     Alice knew that Arthur had been trying to hold up for her sake, now she
tried to hold up for his. Placed between them was a box of paper tissues,
she passed Arthur some while he recomposed himself.

      The sermon was continuing but it had got to the stage where the
congregation was unable to hear it. This was not owing to any background
noise but the way in which each person there was remembering Andrew,
wondering how it had all gone so painfully wrong.

      The priest halted for a moment. He had just heard another outburst of
sorrow but could not place its originator for a moment. Yes there it was
again, it was from the middle of the congregation this time. Several times
he had paused his sermon, sometimes to think how it was going to run and a
couple of times to let someone recover from an outburst of grief that this
room was so full of. He heard it a third time, the stifled sob of somebody
trying to control themselves, but this was different. He peered into the
congregation and saw a boy not yet ten years old at a glance, at a funeral
yet strangely, he was unaccompanied.

     He was sitting at the centre of the congregation hoping to go
un-noticed but his emotions had got the better of him and his sobbing was
heard by all. What was confusing everybody was that nobody else in the room
had any idea who on earth he was.

     The priest paused for longer as Arthur went to the boy and knelt in
front of him.  "What's your name son?" Arthur asked

     "Peter" the lad replied

     "Where's your mum or your dad Peter, aren't they with you?"

     "No sir, Dad wanted Mum and me to come `cos he couldn't and my Mum
wanted to, but she said she couldn't come either but she sent me to come
instead"

     Taking a few moments to work out what he was being told Arthur asked,

     "You are more than welcome here but I don't understand. Who are your
Mother and Father? Do we know them? Did they know Andrew?"

     The boy was at an awkward age. He was too young to be in control of his
emotions, yet wanting to look older than his years. He wanted to appear too
old to climb on Arthur's lap yet in reality that was exactly what he so
wanted to do.

     "Andrew went to see my dad in prison three times since Dad ran over the
other little boy. Andrew told him that it wasn't his fault and that it
wasn't fair that my dad was in prison when it should have been him in prison
and Dad said to Mum and me that we should be nice to him  because he was
frightened that Andrew would make himself into a tomato."

     There was confusion for a moment then a voice from somewhere in the
congregation softly called out, almost chuckling

     "He means a `Martyr'. The boy's dad was worried that Andrew would make
himself into a Martyr."

     For the first time that day there was a chuckle that rippled round the
crematorium, the mood had lightened very slightly. It was a much needed
release. The realisation was sinking in that this was the son of the driver
who had been drinking in the bar on the beach The son of the man who killed
poor Derek. A fact that Derek's Grandmother and sister latched on to. They
approached the boy and Mr Davis in a flurry of righteous indignation.


     "Is the murderers son welcome here then? Because if he is, we shall
leave"

     There was a stunned silence as a response at this new depth the
grandmother had sunk to. Peter looked up at them. Not really comprehending
the viciousness of the comment. Mr Davis however understood exactly what
they were doing, trying to move the burden of guilt  off their shoulders and
onto the boys. His answer to them was wonderful in its understatement.

     "Goodbye"

     The congregation stared at the two women as they left, defeated by
their own rouse. Attention was redirected to the boy Peter as Arthur Davis
took him by the hand and led him to the front pew where his wife Alice was
sitting. Peter, unable to carry his act of adulthood any more, climbed onto
Arthur's lap and inserting his thumb firmly in his mouth watched as the
priest approached him.

     Your father was frightened that Andrew would make a martyr of himself,
Why? How did he know?

     "I don't know sir. He just said that he thought that he would"

     The priest, shaking his head, returned to the pulpit to continue with
the service. He paused for seconds only, then looked at the young child on
Arthur's lap. The priest nodded at the congregation. He knew where he was
going now.

     "A Martyr. That is an excellent epitaph for Andrew, but a martyr to
what. I will tell you what Andrew was a martyr to. He was a martyr to
bigotry and he was a martyr to love. Most of all he was a martyr to our
blindness, our stupidity and our lack of understanding and knowledge where
it really mattered. Our inability to see the torment within this soul. Our
helplessness when it came to really supporting such a desperately sad boy.

     "So let this be the lesson to us all. We must listen and we must hear.
We must learn and we must know. We must sympathise and we must understand.
Please, friends I beg of you,  let there only ever be one `Andrew Davis.
The Martyr to Ignorance.'


     Arthur looked about at all the nodding heads. `Yes, that would work' he
thought. As he looked at Alice, his wife, he could see a level of relaxation
in her demeanour. Yes it was working for her too. He unconsciously gave
little Peter a hug. He had been the catalyst in all this, turning the
funeral from a service of unmitigating gloom and despondency to one of hope
and thoughts for the future. There was the slightest buzz in the air, with
people wondering what they could do to stop a reoccurrence of this tragedy.

     He did not understand yet why but he knew He was going to have to find
Peter's father and talk to him. This was a man who had met Andrew and had
both listened and heard. But why had he not done anything about it?  There
had to be a reason, else why would he have sent his son there. These were
questions to be answered later.

     As they sang the last hymn of the service the curtain was drawn across
in front of Andrew's coffin and the guests said their final goodbye to the
boy. Although tears were being shed freely, there was this new positive
attitude. Never must this happen again. There was much to learn and they
were determined to learn it. Somehow all this positive attitude had its
epicentre on the young boy nestling in the arms of the bereaved parents,
Arthur and Alice Davis.

     It was nearly a week before Arthur turned thoughts to actions and
started to make enquiries about Peter's father. He had given the boy a lift
home after the funeral but had let him out of the car some short walk from
his house at Peter's request. It had not been hard to find the name of his
father, or the results of his court case.

     Mr Gerald (Gerry) Rhodes had been found guilty of causing death by
dangerous driving and of driving whilst unfit through drink or drugs. He was
sentenced to two years for each offence, the sentences to run concurrently.
He was being held at Greythorne low security open prison. His remorse was
open and obvious and the knowledge of what he had done was a heavy burden
that he would carry to his grave. He had not been entirely surprised to
receive a letter from Arthur Davis, as he was aware that his young son had
attended Andrew's funeral. It was still however going to be an awkward
meeting. He sat in the waiting room wondering how punctual Mr Davis would
be. Punctuality was one of those things that the inmates of a prison value,
there not being much else to think about while they waited for their
visitors.

     He was led to the table where a gaunt greying figure sat. Loosing his
only son had prematurely aged Arthur leaving him looking drained, a look
pretty well mirrored by Gerry Rhodes. Prison life was not suiting him at
all.

     "How do you do. You must be Arthur Davis. I cannot say how sorry I was
to hear about Andrew. I lost my other son the same way twelve years ago now.
He was 16 as well."

     "You have lost a son through suicide too? I knew that there was
something about you I had to find out. Young Peter's a credit to you and
your wife, I look forward to meeting her. I have so many questions to ask
you both"

     "Sadly I'm afraid that may be a little difficult. We are both
alcoholics and have been since Steve took himself away from us. That's why
Angie didn't make it to Andrew's funeral, I'm afraid she was very drunk.
Peter is about the only thing holding us together, or at least he was the
only thing until I met Andrew. It straightened me out just listening to him
talk about the boy I killed. I had reckoned that there would be a few people
out there who wanted to see me dead. All those who loved the kid. Then
Andrew told me that he was the only person who had loved the boy and that
had only been for a short while."

     Arthur wanted to know more about Steve's suicide but was not sure how
to open the questioning. He decided to start by trying to be supportive of
Gerry and if possible his wife and child. The important information he
wanted was more likely to flow a little later but more freely he thought.

     "Yes Gerald, it was a tragic story. Look, is there anything I can do to
help you or your wife while you are in here? If she is in that sort of state
as an alcoholic there must be something I can do, and what about you, how do
you go about being an alcoholic in here"

     "Well firstly Please call me Gerry, and yes, there are things you can
do. One of the other guys in here is a psychiatrist. He will be getting out
at about the same time as I will. He is working on a book about teen
suicides and I am helping him. One of the things he intends to do is to go
round to places where such a suicide has taken place, and lecture the people
who live there about what to look for. He says where there has been one,
more could follow, it's like the idea has been planted in other teenagers
heads and they are hearing all the nice things being said about the one who
has died."

     "Is there a risk that others in Andrew's school may be thinking that
way then? Surely not, it's unthinkable."

     "That's why it's so dangerous, because people like yourself think such
ideas are `unthinkable' just at a time when you should all be thinking of
little else and looking for the signs."

     "I see what you mean, yes but what are the signs to look for? Our local
priest was talking all about reading the signs but we don't know them"

     "I can give you a few that my friend has told me about, but you will
have to remember that early warning signs are also the classic signs of
clinical depression, a common fore-runner to a suicide attempt.

      "Difficulties in school and drug or alcohol abuse for a start, also
tell your friends to look for sleep disturbance and eating disorders. Those
are quite common too. Disinterest in usual activities, sports hobbies, that
sort of thing.

     "Restlessness and agitation are also frequently missed changes in the
boy's habits. He may well be suffering from feelings of failure,
hopelessness and helplessness plus a tendency towards pessimistic moodiness.

      "He will very likely be overly self critical, have persistent physical
complaints along with difficulty in concentrating. Lastly, and this is the
one so many have said `why didn't I see that?' is that he will almost
certainly have a preoccupation with death."

     Arthur was reeling from these points as one by one they described
Andrew's character for the last weeks of his life. Gerry went on.

     "There are late warning signs that require immediate intervention in
order to prevent the attempt.  Some are obvious such as talk of suicide and
neglect of appearance. Dropping out of activities and self isolation plus
the feeling that life is meaningless and giving away favourite personal
possessions should be watched out for as well, the lad will develop an
attitude of `Well I won't need that where I am going'.

     "Probably the most dangerous and meaningful, and most ignored or
unnoticed, is a sudden unexplained improvement in attitude and behaviour
because it signals that the person has come to a decision to end the pain
finally. Sadly only too often, this is thought to be the start of the
`healing process' and is therefore handled most inappropriately. "

     Arthur sat there with his head in his hands. How on earth did he miss
all of those? Everything Gerry had said was there, Arthur had been surprised
to find that Andrew had given his play station away to some boy, but just
thought it was part of the depression and that the boy would kick out of it
if left alone. Now all the odd little things that Andrew had done were
spelling out his morbid intention with neon lights.

     "Don't beat yourself up Arthur, you didn't know. I used to read stories
on a web site called Nifty when I was at home. There was one called `Donny'
that a gay friend pointed me to. I suggest you read it too, it covers this
problem delicately and with great feeling."

     "Why, are you gay?"

     "Well I have my moments but I keep it very quiet in here. You don't
have to be gay or bisexual to read the nifty stories, just open minded. Do
you have any inclinations in that direction?"

     "To use your own words back, I have my moments, but I too am firmly
closeted in that subject"

     It was the first time Arthur had told a living soul that he
occasionally had bisexual feelings and it rather unnerved him. Looking at
Gerry sitting there he tried for a temporary change of subject.

     "I asked you about your being an alcoholic, how does that work in here,
surely there's no drink in here is there?"

     "No, well there is a bit if you talk to the right people but I am using
this time to dry out and get some help. Its Angie who worries me, she is not
a strong woman and although she said she would dry out too, there is always
just one reason for a drink today and that she will give it up tomorrow. You
know the sort of thing"

     Arthur nodded, he had been there with cigarettes many years ago so he
knew well the difficulties of breaking an addiction.

     Although he said nothing to Gerry, Arthur decided he would visit Angie
Rhodes and see if there was anything he could do to help her. He thought she
may be struggling, having the problems of alcoholism along with a nine year
old boy and her husband confined to prison, a little support would be, he
hoped, gratefully received.

     As he drove away from the open prison his mind was overloaded with so
many different questions. How was Mrs Rhodes coping? How did a nine year old
boy weasel his way so deeply into Arthur's affections so quickly? As Gerry
had been indirectly involved with Andrew's death, why did Arthur have this
overwhelming desire to help the man and his family?

     He had answered none of those questions by the time he drove into his
driveway and locked the car. After kissing his wife and giving her the
detailed account of his meeting with Gerry, he settled down in front of his
computer and logged on to the Nifty site. It took him a while to see the
layout and to find the story `Donny' but having found it he found himself so
absorbed in the story that it was two in the morning when he finally read
the latest chapter, logged off and went to bed.

     A positive attitude is a wonderful thing to wake up to. Arthur had no
idea why he felt as he did other than the tale he had read the previous
night alongside the information he had been given from Gerry. Slowly in his
mind he was sorting through the facts and the possibilities.

     Alice had noticed that he had woken up with a smile on his face, the
first time in a long while, but knew him well enough not to ask why. She
could see that he was thinking something through and knew that he would tell
all when he had sorted it out in her mind.

     "Alice my sweets, I am going to visit Mrs Rhodes today, see how Peter
is and see if there is anything we can do to help."

     "Who are you trying to help Darling, Peter, Gerry, Mrs Rhodes or
yourself?"

     Alice always did have the knack of saying in a few words, something
that Arthur would take hours over thinking about and still not know the
answer.

     "I think perhaps I may be helping all of us. Add yourself into that
list. Gerry is beside himself with worry about how Angie is coping. He is
equally worried about Peter. We have lost our own boy but we seem to have
found somebody else's who needs help. I don't know how this is all going to
work and I am not sure we have the time for the luxury of sorting all the
answers out. All I can offer as a fact is that for the first time since
Andrew's death, I have been able to focus on something. I cannot believe
that you will not benefit you in a similar way."



     "Ok ok, you go and see Mrs Rhodes. I have no problem with that. The
only worry I have is that you may be jumping into a minefield which could be
beyond your ability to get out of. You could bite off a lot more than you
can chew here. What do you think you can do for her?"

     "Think of it this way Sweets, What can't we do? If she asks us to do
something, to help, apart from large amounts of financial support, I can
think of little we cannot do to assist"

     "I know you better than that Arthur. I know that you have something in
mind. Are you going to tell me what it is?"

     "No, sorry I won't tell you what it is, because it is not quite clear
in my own mind yet. When it is, if it ever is, I will tell you but till then
I think I will just have to ask you to take me on trust."

     She looked into Arthur's eyes and allowed a small smile to cross her
face.

     "Of course I will trust you darling, not just because I always do, but
also I know what you are thinking of doing. Are there any small points in
your mind you would like me to clarify for you?"

     Arthur grinned sheepishly, If Alice said she knew what he was thinking,
then she not only did but was probably way ahead of him. They sat down and
talked various ideas over. They made a few plans as seemed appropriate and
worked out the preparations involved. Arthur was so relieved that his
wonderful wife was fully behind him on this. Well both behind him and it
would seem, in front of him.

     The front of the Rhodes' house was in need of a little care and
attention but not too bad. The front garden was unexciting but it was
reasonably maintained. He had been afraid that signs of neglect would be
apparent but he was content that there were none.

     Mrs Rhodes answered the doorbell. It was ten thirty in the morning and
Peter was at school. She looked into this strangers face trying to focus on
it, or on anything else. She was slightly steadying herself against the door
frame but was still swaying gently. The smell of gin was overpowering.

     "Sorry, who did you say you were? I didn't quite catch the name. I am a
little hard of hearing these days."

     "My name is Arthur Davis. I am a friend of your husband. I went to
visit him yesterday. I am, no sorry was, Andrew's father. Peter came to
Andrew's funeral a while back. I wondered if you and I could have a little
chat."

     Arthur gave Angie all these details slowly and clearly hoping that one
or two might penetrate this shield of alcohol that she had built.

     "Oh you know Gerry, wonderful. Please do come in. Would you like a
drink? Gin? Whiskey? Anything?"

     Arthur managed to stop himself saying that he wouldn't as it was a bit
early for him, and managed a refusal on the grounds that he was driving. It
was only when he saw Angie's eyes fill with tears that he realised that his
excuse had been equally insensitive. It was drink driving that had removed
her husband from her, albeit temporally.

     He watched as she swayed towards the sideboard  and getting a highball
glass put one ice cube in it and filled it up with gin. He decided to bite
the bullet and go in a bit hard, maybe this was not the time for the gentle
approach, he thought.

     "Gerry tells me you are thinking of giving up the drink, Are you?"

     "Oh its easy for him. Where he is there is no choice. If I try to stop
its different. People keep coming round here and ... Well I have to be
sociable don't I?"

     She sat heavily on the couch and looked around at the selection of
empty glasses that surrounded her.

     "You wouldn't believe it but Peter cleared all these up yesterday. He
is a treasure, I must... I really must... I have to try to..."

     She got no further before tears trickled down her face.

     "We, that is Gerry and I, have been living like this for twelve years
now, and its not fair on Peter. Now Gerry isn't here I don't know what to
do. I'm getting worse. Look at me. It's not yet eleven in the morning and I
have just drunk a whole bottle of gin already. Yes a whole bottle and I am
not even slurring my words yet. I won't even feel drunk till I finish my
second bottle. I have Peter to look after but really it's he who is looking
after me

     "I know I am an alcoholic but I don't want to sit in some church hall
and tell everyone, and have them clap, anyway I doubt I could stay sober
long enough to do that. I can't go out anyway because of Peter."

     "Suppose somebody looked after Peter for you for a while, while you
went to a professional place for help. Would that make a difference? Suppose
you could concentrate on just getting yourself out of this vicious circle
you feel trapped in, do you think you could dry out then, if you went into a
clinic?"

     She didn't answer that for a moment but looked at him eye to eye.
Arthur could see immediately that she was looking to see if there was an
ulterior motive for this offer. He had to admit to himself that he would
have been even more worried had she not done so. As she drained her glass,
still looking at him suspiciously she was actually sobering up, that
perceived threat to her son was pumping adrenalin into her and waking her up
to the predicament."

     "I have just worked out who the hell you are. You are the man whose son
committed suicide because my husband killed his friend. Now you are trying
to take my boy away from me."

     "I can understand your thinking like that, in a way I am glad you do.
It shows me that you haven't totally addled your brain with gin, however you
are wrong about why I am trying to do this and you are wrong about why my
son took his own life. You should know that there is more to these things
than meet the eye. You of all people. You may not realise this but I know
why you started drinking twelve years ago.

     "If it had been my intention to take your son from you I would have
done so. One letter to the social services would have led to a visit and you
wouldn't have seen Peter for dust. That would have been quicker and easier
for me. Yes, my wife and I are offering to take care of Peter for you, but
when you have sorted yourself out, he can come back to you, no forms to
fill, no bureaucratic red tape, just a simple arrangement between the five
of us.  At least think about it and discuss it with Gerry."

     As the two of them settled into an uneasy truce, they chatted for a
while about the details of how such an arrangement might work with neither
party making any major concessions or promises. They had not realised how
long they had been talking when the front door opened and in walked Peter.

     The embarrassment on his face was obvious first looking at Arthur then
his mother, trying to judge how drunk she was and how much Arthur had found
out about her drinking. He went to his mother and sat on her lap.

     "Hello Peter, I have come round to see if your mummy needs any help
while your daddy is away."

     Angie hugged her son, sitting him on her lap in such a way that gave
Arthur the view up the inside of the leg of the boy's shorts. She warmed to
a Arthur as soon as she saw that not only had he not looked in that
direction , but he hadn't looked away either. It was plain that the man
hadn't even noticed the aspect. That, she concluded, was certainly a good
sign that Arthur was not after Peters body, the main cause of her concern.

     "Mr Davis is being very kind to us Peter, we are thinking of all sorts
of things to make things easier here. Why don't you go and sit on his lap
and say thank you to him"

     Peter kissed his mother and walked over to Arthur, climbing up on his
lap and snuggled into it. He looked up and kissed Arthur on the cheek.

     "Thank you Uncle Arthur"

     Looking down, Arthur couldn't help but smile as he kissed the top of
Peter's head. All this Angie was watching like a hawk. Arthur was passing
all the tests she was putting him through with flying colours. She had
reckoned that if Arthur was attracted to boys, he would try to hide it, and
would not have returned Peters kiss. His reaction was as it should have
been. She decided that she would, after all discuss the possibilities with
her husband.

     "I have given you quite enough to think about for one day, but I do
recommend you speak to your husband as soon as possible, for your sake as
much as for anyone else's."

     Arthur picked up Peter and kissing him once more on the top of his
head, he laid the boy gently back on his mothers lap. As he let himself out
he called back saying that he was leaving his business card on the hall
table, should she wish to contact him.

     As he drove home, thoughts were playing about in his mind. He started
to recognise that it was natural for Angie to have considerable reservations
about sending her son to a virtual stranger's house. He had rather acted the
fool, and rushed in where angels would have feared to tread.

     At home, one look at Arthur's face told Alice that the day had not
really gone as her husband would have liked and the conversation that
evening confirmed what she had worried about, there was a lot of tact going
to be needed here, more than her dear husband had ever been blessed with.

     The couple agreed that it would be a good idea if Arthur went to see
Gerry and Alice would visit Angie. It was the first day of the school summer
holidays and Alice, being a teacher, was now available to help. Sadly it
also meant that Peter would be at home. This was unfortunate but
unavoidable. They both knew that this was going to be a stressful time for
the boy. How stressful? Well that was rather in the hands of Mr and Mrs
Rhodes.

     Arthur was finding it difficult to drive, his concentration was failing
him. All the way to Greythorne Prison he kept hearing Alice's words echoing
around in his head "You will be tactful won't you dear" "Do be careful how
you speak to him dear" "Don't sound condescending dear, now you do
understand what I mean by condescending, don't you dear?" Arthur chuckled at
that, it was one of Alice's favourite little jokes.

     Eventually the prison came into view, as prisons went it didn't look
too bad. It was at least in a pleasant area and the building looked
reasonable, The radio in Arthur's car was playing Tom Jones and The Green
Green Grass of Home, It was little ironies like that which made his day, and
as an author, he stored the incident for later use.

      He was escorted into the visiting area by one of the guards who was
intent on striking up a conversation.

     "Rhodes told my colleague that you are the father of the nice young lad
who used to visit him. He doesn't seem to come here any more, got tired of
it I suppose.  He was always a pleasure to bring through to the visiting
room. Thoughtful boy I always thought. Good manners too. Rare things these
days in a youngster, good manners and thoughtfulness. You must be very proud
of him. He's certainly a credit to the way you've brought him up. I said to
my mate, we will only see that one on this side of the table. There is no
way that boy will serve time, too well behaved. Well I will get Rhodes,
lovely talking with you, see you again some day"

     As Arthur sat down he decided not to embarrass the man by telling him
what had happened or why, but then he realised that there was somebody else
who had liked Andrew. It sent a warm feeling inside him, but with a tang of
pain that Andrew would never know about the respect and liking others had
for him, but that warm feeling... Maybe Andrew did know... now.

     He closed his eyes for a moment and said under his breath "It's my turn
to try and help a youngun now Andrew, please help me say the right thing" He
opened his eyes Gerry Rhodes was crossing the room towards him and he was
not looking a happy man.

     "Praying were you Arthur? Praying that I had not had a phone call from
Angie were you? Praying that she may forget to mention that you went round
and tried to take Peter away from us, perhaps that was what you were praying
for, well was it?" because if so, your prayers have not been answered.

     Such immediate venom took Arthur a bit by surprise, and he was silent,
looking into Gerry's eyes and feeling the anger coming from them, when a
voice from within said to him, `Fight fire with fire. He may be angry but
you are there to help the boy foremost, then Angie and last on the list is
this man who's raising his voice at you. Tell him straight'

    "Hmmm, well I was praying yes. Praying that you would listen to what I
have to say. Praying that you had the sense to know we are trying to help
you all, but most of all I was Praying that you were not so pig ignorant to
see that your boy Peter is in quite some danger here. And you may well be
right, it looks as though my prayers have indeed gone unanswered.

     "Shall I go now or shall we argue for a little longer, I have all the
time in the world and so have you. But does Peter?"

     That voice had been right, the sharp return did unbalance Gerry who, on
hearing Arthur throw Peters name back at him, cooled down quickly.

     He spoke to Arthur much more calmly now. "So what danger are you trying
to tell me Peter's in. If you mean Angie's drinking, she would never lay a
finger on the lad. Was that the problem?"

     "Yes and no. It is Angie's drinking that is the problem but I agree
with you she would never hurt him. No the problem is worse that that. Have
you any idea how much your wife is drinking at the moment?"

    "Well before I came in here and we were drinking together, I suppose we
were getting through... I don't know, half a bottle, maybe up to three
quarters of a bottle of spirit a day each, I know it was too much but now I
am not drinking with her, she is probably on a bit less, just a little bit
less maybe"

     "Oh shit. I hate to have to tell you this but your wife's drinking has
spiralled up not down. She had completed her first bottle by eleven o'clock
in the morning, and would have started her second had I not been there
talking to her, she may be on as much as two or two and a half bottles a day
now. This will kill her, then Peter will be without his mother permanently
and his dad will be in prison. Do you think that this constitutes Peter
being in danger?"

     "Sorry but I don't believe you. Simple as that. Angie phoned up
yesterday, after you left, and told me about your visit. She sounded pretty
good then, not sober but not slurring at all. Why should I believe what you
are saying?"

     "No reason what so ever. You can insist I leave and then you will
remain in total ignorance till you are released, or she dies, which ever
happens first. I will go away out of your lives blameless having done my
best for you all.

      There is another way though, I will leave here and report what I know
to the social services. They will visit one day and make their own decision
based on what they think, you will have no choice nor will your wife, the
only thing there that would satisfy anybody is that I can come back here and
gloat saying `I told you so' is that what you want? It's the easiest way for
me to go."

     "You lousy bastard. You know I can't check on what you say without it
being me who calls in the social services, and if you are right, then Peter
gets taken into care, even if they think you may be right they might do that
anyway.  OK I will listen to what you have to say and I will think about it,
but I warn you I do not give up without a fight, and even if I lose, I will
not be in here for ever, you just remember that."

     Arthur leaned back in the chair closing his eyes in relief "At last" he
muttered. He sat forwards to Gerry and explained that there were no plans
made or anything like that. What he wanted to get across to both Angie and
Gerry was the concept that there was help there if needed. There was no way
that Angie could fight the alcohol at home, so the best arrangement would be
for her to go to a clinic, sure in the knowledge that Peter was safe and
sound. It would make sense also if when she left the clinic having dried
out, that she lived with Arthur and Alice, till Gerry was back in
circulation.

     "After that has happened then you move back in your house and back to
normal. This would be the least worrying way of sorting this out for Peter"

     "Angie never said anything about her moving in with you to be with
Peter."

     "Ahhh, that's rather my fault, I only just had that idea, but it sounds
good to me."

     "Ok well as I said I will think about it, and will chat to Angie about
the idea. I really am very sorry I was such an arsehole to you first thing."

     "I would have thought much less of you if you had not jumped in to
protect your family. I just hope we can do something quickly, for
everybody's sake. I had better tell you that while I have been talking to
you here, my wife has been to see Angie. You will probably get another phone
call tonight. I hope it will be less fraught than the last one"

     It was the same guard who escorted Arthur in, who led him out, but he
was much much quieter. He hardly said a word as he tried to hide his red
face, leading Arthur to the gate. As they got there he looked at Arthur,

     "I am so sorry, I had no idea, he was a wonderful boy"

     "Thanks, and yes, he was a wonderful boy."

      That warm glow was back with Arthur all the way home and was still
with him when he opened the front door. OOOOOPH. Something pinkish with a
blue pullover and short grey trousers had hurled itself at him, taking to
the air no less than ten feet from him. As it made contact with him all four
arms and six legs seemed to cling to him in the hug of death. Arthur knew
that he had been attacked by one of two things, either a Martian warrior, or
an Intercontinental Ballistic Peter.

     "Hello Uncle Arthur. Guess where we live now."

That sorted it in Arthur's mind. No self respecting Martian would call him
`Uncle'. Still being gripped by more arms and legs than any one child had a
right to possess, Arthur struggled to his chair. Alice was sitting in hers
pretending to read a book and trying to suppress a laugh. In the straightest
voice she could muster she asked,

     "Nice day out dear? Did you do anything interesting and did you see
your little friend in the camp?"

     "Very pleasant thank you love, yes I saw him and don't you think you
may have something you may like to mention, perhaps about your day?"

     Peter had by now wriggled into Arthur's lap and with thumb in mouth was
looking lovingly at the two grownups as they spoke to each other. Arthur
was, almost as a reflex, cuddling the lad to him giving his head the
occasional kiss. His nostrils full of that smell he never thought to smell
again. Boy.

     "Things moved rather quickly today as I think you can tell. Somebody
has reported Mrs Rhodes to the social services. I had been round there for
nearly an hour and had talked Angie round to thinking more or less in our
way when there was a knock at the door and in they came. Ready to take Peter
with them if necessary"

     "What did you say to stop them, I thought that if they came to take
then take they did"

     "Normally yes but not this time, there was a little doubt as to the
validity of the complaint so they were prepared, but not obliged to do so. I
had to think quickly so I said that I was round there to collect them both
as they were moving into our house for some months. When they asked who the
hell I was I said I was Angie's lesbian lover, that's the one thing they
cannot check up on, and its so damned politically correct they will be
frightened to do anything other than approve the situation."

     "Where is Angie now?"

     "She is having a little sleep. She has been chatting to the bottle for
a lot of the morning. She has made an effort though. We didn't pack any
bottles and I have made an appointment, at her request, to see a doctor
tomorrow. Meanwhile she is in the spare room and Peter will be in Andrew's
room. We pick up more of their things tomorrow and so forth. She phoned the
prison but you had just left. Gerry seems happy about everything and that's
about it really. Oh and Gerry wants to see you again tomorrow, I have been
in touch with the prison and they have said its ok for you to take Peter. I
think its better that he sees his dad than stays with his mother tomorrow,
Angie agrees. Any questions?"

     "Errr, no I don't think so, errr what's for dinner?"

     "Well that is a T.R.E.A.T for S.O.M.E.B.O.D.Y. so we are having
P.I.Z.Z.A."

      "YESSSSS Pizza I love pizza, I love pizza, we're having pizza"

     The blue eyed meteorite woke up and ran round the room in delight at
hearing his favourite dish being spelled out, leaving Alice and Arthur
remembering that codes got broken and had to be changed.

     Arthur winked at Alice and looked at young Peter,

     "Darf ich etwas fragen? Wie alt bist du?"  (( may I ask you something,
how old are you? ))

     "Ich bin neun Jahre alt"   (( I am nine years old ))

     It looked as if Alice was about to wet herself she was laughing so
much. It wasn't just that it sounded like Peter's German was better than
Arthur's, the other flaw in Arthur's bright idea for a secret code was that
Alice didn't speak a word of the language
.
    "Don't even go there"

     Angie was standing in the doorway.

    "Gerry and I have given up with that, the damned Kid could spell Pizza
by the time he was six, Ice cream earlier than that and all of the major
burger outlets by eight years old. His German, Spanish and French are
excellent for his age and the only way we ever manage to say things so he
cannot understand is to talk in cryptic ways. He even cracks some of those.
Don't you Button ! ! ?"

     No sooner had Angie sat down than `Button' was in her lap. Alice looked
at her. Angie was too gaunt looking, her eyes were starting to sink into her
scull and had the slightest yellow hue to them. All in all Alice thought the
sooner the doctor saw her, the better. Alice was worried already.

     "Have you got a hangover Angie?"  Alice asked.

     "No dear, sorry I am not there yet, I won't have one of those for a
while. I am still rather under the influence and will be for a day or so.
Alice dear, may I ask you a favour?"

     Angie indicated that she would rather Peter didn't hear what she was
going to ask, so Arthur suggested to the boy that they unpacked his things
in Andrew's bedroom. First they were going to have to pack Andrew's things
away. This was a job that they had put off, but now it had to be done.

     They went into Andrew's room and for the first time Arthur realised
what a massive debt he owed to his next door neighbours. They had been into
the house and had taken out the old blood soaked bed. The carpet had been
cleaned and all traces of blood had been removed. Andrew's personal
belongings had been tidied but not removed, the same for his clothes. It was
a short job to put everything in a case and store the case on top of the
wardrobe.

     Peter had not been told the details of Andrew's death and was unaware
of the history of the room. It seemed better that way, no possibility of
nightmares or ghostly feelings.

     With Andrew's things packed and Peter's unpacked, the pair went down
stairs, just as the Pizzas were delivered. Peter started to demolish the
food in the way only a young boy can. Later Angie took the lad upstairs to
give him a bath and get him into bed. It had been a long day for him, and
tomorrow was going to be another. She was sure of that.

     "Arthur. You will be taking Peter to see his dad tomorrow. I will be
with Angie at the doctors. She has asked me to be with her at all times
tomorrow. She wants me to hear what the doctor says to her, partly because
she is frightened that she will forget what she is told, and partly because
she knows that if she gets desperate for a drink she will deny what he has
said and will cheat and lie to get herself to a gin bottle.

     " She really is making an effort, and I know its already much harder on
her than she is letting on. She feels terrible right now but knows that
there isn't a bottle in the house. She helped me get rid of them when she
first came round today."

     Arthur had no concerns about taking Peter to Greythorne Prison, it was
a nice building and not overbearing at all. Alice had called the prison
authorities and checked that young children were allowed to visit. She had
been told that it was acceptable as long as it was done by prior
arrangement.

     She had explained the situation as best she could and was told that
under the circumstances, that would be alright. A room would be put aside
for the visit.

     The prison visit went far better than the visit to the doctor. At the
prison, both Arthur and Peter were thoroughly searched and were only let in
the room after certain rules were explained to them, It was to be expected
that Peter would want to cuddle his father, the lad was intimately searched
for drugs, and was dressed in some overalls.

     Arthur had been present at the searching and whilst he felt
uncomfortable with the discomfort and embarrassment that Peter had had to
endure, understood the reasoning behind it. He also was checked out for
drugs, something he also found to be rather uncomfortable and embarrassing.
He too had to wear overalls instead of his clothes. The payoff for all this
was that they would be allowed to be in the room with Gerry, unsupervised.
The room was however wired for sound and he was warned that the conversation
would be monitored. All these precautions were to let Gerry's son be as free
to relate to his father as possible.

     In the end Arthur felt it was a small price to pay as for the entire
visit, Peter was sitting in his dads lap, thumb installed in mouth and head
cuddled up to his dads chest. Of the actual discussion in there, well a few
things were sorted out but generally speaking Gerry was content with the
arrangements, and was grateful for the part Arthur and Alice were playing.
The trip to the doctor was going to change everything. That was a far from
happy experience.

     Dr. Michael Denton was a very experienced doctor. He knew an alcoholic
when he saw one and he knew he was looking at one now. Worse he knew what
the results of the tests would show as soon as he saw the patient.

     "I am going to refer you to the Alexander Fleming hospital in town
here, You need to stay in the Rossini ward. It's the de-tox ward and I am
afraid I think you are going to be in there quite some time. I am glad you
brought a friend with you. That has tended to make you keep your answers
reasonably accurate. I have to say that drinking over two, nearly three
bottles of Gin a day, for the last four months may well have taken a heavy
toll. You will certainly never be able to drink alcohol again, without doing
irreparable damage, I just hope that the damage has not already happened. I
should get the results of the tests within a day or so, and I will see you
again then."

     "When do I go in the clinic, the de-tox ward then?"

     "Now, straight from here. Its very simple Mrs Rhodes, either you go in
now and give us a chance to help you or you do not go in and we can do
nothing for you. We need to start working on you now. Mrs Davis can go home
and collect all the things that you need. An ambulance will take you to the
hospital from here. The receptionist has already called one for you."

     "Will you come with me Alice? I am not sure I can hang on to this on my
own."

     "Of course I will. I will get your things from home, ours as well as
yours, and will see you again soon, or do you want me to ride with you in
the ambulance? I will if you like."

     "No I will be alright, I was just having a panic attack. Please get to
me as soon as you can though, I feel rather, I don't know, frightened."

     The ambulance driver knocked on the consulting room door and as meek as
any lamb, Angie walked with him to the vehicle and they drove off to the
hospital.

     "You admitted her rather quickly, is it that bad?" Alice asked the
doctor,

     "Mrs Davis, I hate telling people this but I'm afraid Mrs Rhodes has
left it far too late. Unless I am very much mistaken she has done so much
liver damage that I think it is already in the process of failing."

     "You mean she is dying? She cant be, she has nine year old boy to look
after, he is staying with us, so is she."

     Alice quietened down and stared at the doctor realising that she was
panicking at just the time she shouldn't. The question was in her mind. She
knew she had to ask it but was scared to. She neither wanted to seem nosey
nor did she want to appear without feelings. The doctor was looking at her,
he had done this many times and knew what she was going through. He answered
the as yet un-asked question.

     "She has about three weeks maybe two if she carries on drinking. She
could carry on for four maybe five if she stops, but I doubt it. I would
give three as my best guess. To be honest if I am right, and the tests
confirm my suspicions, we shall send her home to be with her son and
husband, he will almost certainly be released on compassionate grounds. I
would expect the courts to impose a heavy fine to replace the custodial
sentence under these circumstances."

     If Oscars could be given out for convincing performances, then Alice
would have walked away from that hospital with arms full of them. When she
dropped off all the things Angie was going to need, she was giving a
performance of a lifetime. She had taken everything Angie would need for a
six week stay. Lipsticks and other make-up. Several good books and a Sony
walkman with some of Angie's favourite CDs. She was talking about what they
would do for her in the future so fervently she almost convinced herself.

     The play remained being acted out right till Alice reached home.
Although she had only known Angie for less than forty eight hours, Alice had
to shed tears for the impending loss of her new friend. Further, she also
knew that she was going to have to tell Arthur, worse somebody was going to
have to tell Gerry. Peter could be protected from all this, he need be told
nothing until it was absolutely necessary.

     When Arthur returned with Peter, from his trip to the prison he could
tell at once that all was not well. When Peter started asking where `Mummy'
was, Arthur could tell by Alice's replies that `not well' didn't cover the
half of it. Just for once he read the situation and Alice's face and got it
spot on. All he asked was one question. "How long?"

     Alice looked into his face and knew that he had worked it out. She said
`three weeks' in such a way that Peter didn't latch on to what anybody was
talking about. The conversation carried on in that way, a question and
answer session that was so well disguised that Peter was totally unaware of
the gravity of the situation.

     The boy had been fed at one of the propriety burger outlets and so was
able to be taken, bathed and put to bed quite quickly. As Arthur was  doing
this he was thinking to himself that he may well have to get used to doing
this, at least until Gerry was returned to the ranks of the free.

     With Peter asleep the two of them were able to make plans for the
various options that would be open to them. It was another miserable night
in the Davis household, and they knew it would get worse.

     The following day the test results had not come through but it was
obvious to Alice that Angie had gone down hill, the yellow colouring was
more pronounced. Treatment was started in earnest to try to stabilise
Angie's condition and Dr Denton was called to attend. Even he was a little
shaken by the speed with which Angie's body was failing, but failing it was
and no longer were they talking in terms of weeks, it was days at best,
possibly hours.

     A message was sent to Greythorne prison and Gerry was temporally
released on compassionate grounds. He had only five hours with his wife
before she left him. They did however achieve a lot in that time, Gerry's
solicitor had attended and provision was made for Arthur and Alice to have
custody of Peter until such time as Gerry was in a condition to take back
those parental responsibilities. Various documents were signed and
witnessed. Wills were re drawn and several other loose ends were tidied up.
All in the space of five hours.

     That night he stayed with Arthur and Alice before being taken back to
Greythorne the following morning. This left Arthur and Alice the job of
comforting Peter. He had understood too much of the situation, he knew about
death as he had befriended Andrew not long before he had died. He still
didn't understand why his daddy had gone back to Greythorne, and it was a
very tearful little boy who was being cuddled all day. He had it in his mind
now that he had lost both his parents and it didn't matter how often Arthur
and Alice told him that his dad would be back to stay soon, he was
inconsolable.

     They had not long put Peter to bed when the telephone rang.  Arthur
answered it and was on the line for quite a while. When he returned to the
living room he was pale.

     "To quote Shakespeare `When troubles come, they come not as single
spies, but in battalions' I don't know whether to wake Peter or not."

     "What's the matter? What's happened now?"

      "Gerry is dead. He had a heart attack on the way home from here. From
what the prison authorities have said, he was crying about Angie and
suddenly he just went quiet. He complained about chest pains and the driver
recognised the symptoms, he changed his route to get to the hospital but
Gerry was pronounced dead on arrival. From his records it seems that this
was his third heart attack in 2 years. Mostly put down to drinking of course
and the fact he was over weight but Angie seems to have caused this one.
Will you tell Peter or must I"

     "Oh no, the poor little mite, I will tell him but I will do it
tomorrow.  How much more is that poor lad going to have to take? Oh Arthur,
what will happen to him now?"

     "Well I rather think that we are his legal guardians. We became that
yesterday, until Gerry was fit to take to take care of him. Now that will be
never, and I think you will find that we have young Peter here as our ward.
I think I had better go and see our solicitor again. This needs sorting."

     Arthur went to the bureau and took out all the papers that Gerry had
asked him to look after and sat down to have a long read. It didn't take
quite as long as he thought it would, the paperwork was clear and simple.

     As the will had been written when Angie knew death was knocking at her
door, it was taken that she was going to predecease him, the rest of the
will was based on Peter being the only relative and that he would not die
before Gerry. Gerry had kept his heart attacks in mind and was therefore
fairly certain that Peter would out live him.

     There were certain allowances to be awarded to Peter's guardian should
Gerry die before Peter was eighteen but these made no real impact on the
Davis's finances. There was one other bequest. That was to the psychiatrist
on completion of at least two seminars that he was to hold, on the subject
of teen suicides. Arthur decided that he would have to visit this man, not
just to tell him of the bequest but also to see if he could assist him in
any way.

     All in all it was a simple set of documents and it meant that Peter
would be looked after by Arthur and Alice indefinitely. It was a proposition
that they already relished even though the circumstances that had lead up to
it were so tragic.

     Arthur and Alice stood at the doorway to Peters bedroom, looking in at
the angelic face of the sleeping child. Arthur pulled his wife to him

     "Four people have died to bring us our new son. Nothing more must ever
hurt him again"

      They looked on at Peter, His hair and eyes were not that unlike
Derek's had been, whilst the shape of his face was rather akin to Andrew's.
Although they knew that nobody could ever replace Andrew, their love for
this defenceless creature was growing stronger each passing second.

     Downstairs on the mantelpiece there were two photographs, one of course
of Andrew, but also one of Derek. It seemed fitting that they should be
there. Soon they would be joined by one of Peter.




Epilogue.
     The Hubble telescope is a wonder of modern technology, seeing distant
stars and galaxies for the first time. Not long ago two new stars were
discovered, a binary pair. They are held together one orbiting the other
held together by their own gravitational pull.

     The combination of burning gasses is such that the larger one glows
with a soft green brown colour, a sort of Hazel, whilst the smaller has a
distinctive blue colour to it, a fiery sapphire. The orbit of these stars
seems a little erratic with as one scientist phrased it, the smaller star is
apparently dancing round the larger more stable one.

     Behind them is an even larger one slowly following in the same orbit.
That one emits a warm glow, a comforting light.

     Somewhere out in the depths of space a deity was looking at two souls
in front of him. The first was rather smaller than the second, but its most
notable feature was its fiery sapphire eyes, the other soul had the warmest
of hazel eyes.

     "Do you know why you are before me small one? It is because you ask to
stay with your friend. I have been told all about what you both did within
your short stay on Earth, and it pleases me. Although you loved in a manner
I had not intend man to love, you did so with all your heart so I will
consider that.

      "And you, the larger one you are older and should have been wiser. The
termination of your life was also in a manner I never intended man to do.
But you did so out of remorse for your treatment of your young friend and
sorrow for the love he never had. I will consider that also."

     The deity allowed itself a smile. The `punishment' for these two boys
had been etched in the book of time from when time itself began.

     "The Universe is infinite. You two must look at every inch of it,
travelling its length and breadth together, having each others love and
company for eternity."

       Derek's excitement knew no bounds and he started dancing round his
friend. Andrew smiled at him, knowing that Derek's eleven years of sadness
were being paid for with an eternity of delighted happiness.

      The deity looked fondly at a new star, a star the deity knew well,
asking him,

      Please, go with them and look after them. Just in case.

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


That was   `A Martyr to Ignorance'   A short story by Angela Mynah

angela_mynah@msn.com

All comments welcome, even flamers. Its being ignored I can't stand.

I answer all e-mails but will be unable to do so for the first two weeks of
May. Please accept my apologies for this delay.