Free Men of London 04 - Feat of Clay by Susan Mac Nicol Page A

of workshop sessions every
month so it gets him out of the house.”
    Randy’s eyes shadowed. “He used to be a
promising young artist, but he hasn’t picked up a paintbrush since.
He was also involved in music and played piano; he has a real
creative streak. Now he doesn’t go out much and has no real friends
his own age. It does worry me. He insists he’s fine, but I wonder.
Sometimes he gets this look…” His voice tailed off and Tate waited
to see what look this might be. When Randy
didn’t continue he simply nodded.
    “It’s a damn tragic tale for one so young.
Makes mine seem paltry in comparison…” Tate hesitated at the wicked
glint in Randy’s eyes and the sudden knowledge that he’d had been
played. That was exactly the reaction he
knew that Dr. Natalie Jakes had been looking for.
    He raised his cup of tea to Randy. “Touché,”
he acknowledged. “Therapists are manipulative bastards, aren’t
they?”
    The other man chuckled loudly. “Tell me your
story then.”
    And Tate did. Not all of it, admittedly.
There were aspects of his torture at Armerian’s hands that he’d
never revealed, to either his therapist or Clay. It was too
intimate, too shaming and he’d probably go to his grave with his
secret. When’d he finally finished his story, and Randy had eaten
half of the packet of biscuits and drunk most of the pot of tea,
Tate felt…purged. It had felt good sharing it with someone who
wasn’t close to him like Clay or someone who was trying to heal
him. Randy simply listened.
    “Shit, that’s some pretty heavy stuff,” Randy
said, drawing a breath between his teeth. “Thanks for telling me.
I’m sorry you went through that.” He leaned back in his chair and
gave a soft burp, then smiled apologetically. “You can certainly
empathise with some of our kids here, even though your story is
vastly different. Damian—he was sexually abused by his uncle for
years. Lucy—,” his voice grew quiet. “She was kept in a basement
for close to three years by her folks. They thought she was evil
because she burnt her backside on an open electric fire and they
said the burn looked like the mark of the devil. Her father tried
to strangle her and damaged her vocal chords. They were religious
nutters. Luckily for her, one of the kids of the new next-door
neighbours was a little thief. He climbed into the basement window,
came out pretty quickly and told his folks about the ‘weird kid’
living in the basement. They told the authorities.”
    Tate shook his head in disbelief at the
stupidity and ignorance of the human race. “What the hell is wrong
with people?”
    Randy shrugged. “Human beings can be the
worst sort of cruel. Krispin was physically abused by his father
from an early age; Cathy is six and was abandoned when she was
three when her folks found out she was deaf…they wanted a perfect
child and she didn’t fit the bill. So they left her with a sister
who was a drug addict and who didn’t treat her well.” He cleared
his throat. “The only good thing is that they all found their way
here, and are relatively stable and happy. Jax contributes to that.
They love him.”
    “I’ve only just met him and even I can see
how special he is.” Tate agreed. “He has this calming effect, this
light about him.”
    “That’s our Jax.” Randy said proudly. “I know
one day he’ll have to leave us and that will be a sad day when he
does, but until then we’re fortunate to have him.” He grimaced.
“Don’t get me wrong, he has his bad days. Then he hides in his room
and won’t talk to anyone. Not even the kids can get him out of his
funk. But those episodes are few.”
    Tate spent another half an hour talking to
Randy. When he finally left that afternoon, he called Clay. He
planned to let him know he was on his way to his house and he’d
pick up dinner and wait for him there.
    Clay answered. He sounded a little
preoccupied. “Mortimer.”
    “Wow, that’s a bit brusque, isn’t it?