Three pebbles and a broken stone

Man 'O' War Bay, wonderful place next to Durdle Door in Dorset, England.

Alexander was four years old and exploring the point where the small grey stones give way to the real water-worn pebbles that have been there since forever.

You have to watch small children carefully here. The water shelves off quite deeply at one point and an ankle deep paddle can turn to wet hair very quickly.

But Alex was not interested in the water that day. He was searching for something with that intensity only a four-year-old can know. I watched him, bemused and wondering what he was searching for. He was searching, no error. He was looking hard at the ground as though counting the pebbles. He could count to five. He would not go any further. Five was enough for him so it was 1, 2, 3, 4 ,5 ,1,2,3,4,5. We had ‘two-fives and two’ stairs in the house.

He eventually found what he was looking for. A pebble, what else? He examined the perfectly smooth stone minutely and when satisfied, brought it over to me.

'Daddy pebble’ and smiled.

Id seen his efforts so hugged him, (as though I needed an excuse.)

'For the fish?' I asked him, meaning : did he want me to put it in the aquarium back home.

'No, daddy pebble.'

I don't know why I wrote his name and date on that tiny piece of Dorset but I did. I kept it.

A year later Samuel does the same. Sam is a very different character. More like me than I am in fact. More impatient than Alex but equally determined and much more physical. He was picking the pebbles up and dropping the ones that didn't qualify with a very vocal 'Naaaaa!'

He walked a straight line up the beach as Alex had done and realised his impatience caused him to miss visual contact with all the stones. He knew this from the start. I could see it in his body attitude. He was beaten. Get to the top of the beach and almost screamed at himself for being impatient. Well, at least he could see his own faults. He walked back down muttering to himself almost demanding the right pebble to expose itself. This was Sam in a black mood. If I had been that stone then Id have stayed hidden.

He found it! Picked it up and given his mood, expected him to scold it. No, Sam being Sam greeted it like a long lost friend. His face lit up and the black cloud was gone. He stared at it, admiring it, soaking up the moment and forgetting his earlier frustration.

He brought it over to me and said 'Ewers dad' (yours dad) and ran off. He hated to waste time on things like 'thankyou', especially those for him. He hasn’t changed much.

Benjamin was one of those children that the gods smile on from the start. He never had to try. Everything worked for him first time, every time and perfectly. If he fell down as a child, he would find money where he landed.....I swear it was like that for him. I took him to Pisa in Italy as an 18th birthday visit.

'Pity we can’t get to the top of the leaning tower' says I en route.

It had been closed for nearly 20 years.

I have a photograph of him atop the leaning tower. It had been opened again for visitors. This is true. I can’t make this up.

Ben looked for the pebble as well. Well not exactly looked. He walked to the middle of an expanse of stones, did a single turn and picked it up. Only he could have seen the big sign that said 'THIS ONE BEN' because he knew, he knew from the start where it was. No effort save in bringing it back to me.

And of course it was perfectly round, perfectly smooth and fitted perfectly in my hand.

Those three stones sat in a drawer for the next 14 years. I still have them.

Louis Cadfael

Louis (French/German) = famous warrior. Cadfael (Welsh) = Battle Prince.

The 'Cadfael' was for my grandfather and great grandfather, professional soldiers.

I had no idea the 'battle' would be mine in a war of attrition. I will not discuss what happened to my partner. Suffice to say she spends most of her days in a clinic. Alcoholism, manic depression and frequently violent. Her ex-husband was attracted to children you see, his own. Enough said I think. Such people bring destruction beyond anything you can imagine.

I saw the autism start in Louis. I was looking in to that beautiful face of his as he described something with the usual animation of a three-year-old. His eyes, bright, blue and alive!

Then he was gone. Right in front of me but he was gone. That subtle change in the focus of his eyes. I was not there anymore for him. I was ‘someone else’. It was as though someone had switched on another little boy in his head and for a moment a look of confusion as he picked up on the part memory of the Louis I knew.

It frightened me more than anything I have seen in my life and God knows there have been times when I have had reason to be afraid.

He ‘came back’ about an hour later but I could not forget. Something deep was very wrong.

And of course it happened again and again until his ‘being there’ was down to maybe an hour over a weekend.

In short it was autism. Social Services confirmed it. Social Service (read ‘Power of God’) decided that since his mum was ‘unstable’ (read ‘completely off the rails’. I was already hiding the car keys and sharp objects at this point) and my presence insufficient to ‘give the level of stability required for his condition’, they placed him with a Foster family.

Then the meetings. Social Services with their ‘professional’ psychologists on one side with a Louis screaming to get at me and his mum (who needed restraint) on the other. Psychology? It struck me that most of their source material came from books written in the early 1900s by men that only ever saw children though the lounge window.

And of course it was costing plenty.

Partner finally committed after finding her asleep on the lawn in the rain and then to find myself searching the city in the early hours (she found the car keys). I got beaten up for my efforts that night.

The other children were then taken of course. Against the rules to have a non-biological adult caring for three girls so they give them to another ‘non-biological’ parent pair. That was the right thing to do, as anyone that has had to deal with a teenage girl with a chip on her shoulder will know.

Louis was all that mattered despite my friend’s advice to ‘walk away’. Despite my father’s advice to ‘walk away’. Despite that voice that kept telling me ‘you are going to lose’. I knew I would lose.

I did lose. I also lost all of my pension fund trying. I could have retired five years ago. Easy. Regret? Not a bit of it.

The stability he now enjoys is reflected in his condition. I would prefer things otherwise though.


Louis’ Pebble

Yes, he did. Before the autism. Different beach though. This one was in Normandy where my grandfather was holed up at the end of the First World War.

Louis wore what can only be described as a Victorian Swimsuit. Shorts and Short sleeved shirt with blue and white stripes. I have a photograph of him wearing it and carrying a sun-umbrella because his mum told him he had to protect his skin. He wandered up and down the sandy beach holding the shade aloft (but his head in the sun) looking at the sand. He liked the feeling when the water washed over his feet and the sand gave way underneath, not quite upsetting balance, just suggesting it.

I was surprised that he managed to find a pebble at all but he did. It was broken. ‘papa, caillou cassé!’


Footnote

A lot of stuff happened in those few years. We all like to think we know what we will do when some monster touches our family. Please remember that the ‘monsters’ act quickly and without mercy. If you have a little voice that tells you ‘I don’t like this person with my kids’…….listen and obey. I heard that voice and I acted. No one believed me. They should have. Get the Internet under control. Get that box where YOU can see what they are looking at and whom they chat to. Check their chat contacts and get so YOU meet them ALL on cam. (Thats important. I am an 8 year old girl and your daughter's best friend......right?) We are more attached to our kids than we can possibly know. Don’t ever underestimate how the things that can happen to them will affect you.

Louis was not actually touched by ‘the monster’. But what the monster did destroyed everything I relied on. And it was quick, so damned quick.