Free Sleepwalkers by Tom Grieves Page A

drives me mad, never being able to be sure about anything. I’m always told thingsand I believe it if they say it, but there’s stuff in me as well, you know? Stuff that’s not stupid, but I can’t prove it. I mean, how do I get proof? All the things they say …’
    And then the frustration ran out. A wound-down toy.
    ‘Just drives me mad,’ he repeated. He ran a hand through his short hair. It was the act of a much older boy. Anna stared at Toby and remembered the way Michael led him away from school. A hand on the back of his neck.
    ‘Toby. If you’re saying … what I think … then you need to talk to someone professional.’
    ‘Done that. They just move me to another city, another school.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’ve been to four schools in five years. Didn’t you check my report?’
    ‘Well, no, I—’
    ‘Never bothered.’ It was said matter-of-factly, without accusation; an acceptance of the rules. ‘No one checks. No one believes me.’
    ‘I believe you.’
    ‘No, you don’t. Sorry, Miss, no offence, but …’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘You’re nice, a bit concerned, just like the others, and I think you’re a really good teacher too.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘No worries. But you won’t actually do anything.’
    ‘Yes, I will.’
    Something prickled within Anna. She had a thing for the underdog.
    ‘What are you going to do?’ Toby continued. ‘Talk to the Head? Social services?’
    From his mouth, the suggestions seemed specious.
    ‘Well,’ said Anna, bristling, ‘what would you want me to do?’
    Toby’s sad eyes stared at her with doubt, but he was looking at her properly for the first time that either could remember. Maybe the first time since he walked into her class six months ago.
    ‘Find me proof,’ he said.
    ‘Of what your father did to you?’
    ‘Well, if it was him.’
    ‘Okay …’ she said warily, not sure where all this was leading. Toby seemed brighter-eyed all of a sudden and Anna was disquieted by this enthusiasm.
    ‘You know how to get proof?’ she asked.
    ‘I guess. If you can take me there, so we can see it for real.’
    ‘See what?’
    ‘The place where it happened, of course!’
    He stood up, overexcited, and Anna’s stomach lurched.
    *
    Toby sat politely next to his teacher as her car squealed out of the gates. The further they got from the school the more he relaxed, and the quieter Anna became.
    He pointed to the old railway bridge near the edge of town and Anna parked the car nearby as requested. He walked quickly along the narrow footpath that crossed the bridge next to the railway lines, his teacher following. The bridge was tatty, with crumbling paint and puddles in the corroding concrete potholes. He looked down at the river, twenty feet below. Its dark water swelled, choked with mud. The wind picked up and the dark clouds above threatened rain. He could feel the moisture in the air.
    Toby stopped when he reached the middle of the bridge, looking around. Yes, he thought, this is the place. He closed his eyes.
    And there he was. Stood in the exact same spot. Laughing as a train hurtled past behind him. The lights from the carriages illuminated him like a strobing disco.
    ‘Toby,’ Anna called, pulling him back.
    ‘I’ve been here before.’
    ‘But we’re miles from your house.’
    ‘Yeah.’ He looked around him. The footpath was deserted. He closed his eyes again.
    And he was laughing on the empty footpath too, but then he noticed a large camouflaged backpack that leant against the railings. And somehow he knew that it was for him. He peeked inside; it was filled to the top with rocks. He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks and then hoiked the heavy bag onto his shoulders. Then he tightened the straps around his arms.
    Toby took a step towards the edge of bridge.
    Although he was swaying under the weight of the backpack, he still was able to pull himself up and stand on the edge of the railings. He teetered slightly, staring up at the sky. It