Alex watched that man make a hasty retreat after his rant, but he'd gone off on one just to get the obsequious bastard to fuck off. The man just saw a sick kid and for appearances sake was saying those sympathetic words not meaning any of them, not understanding Alex's situation at all. Alex remembered the man watching the last couple of games he'd played for Brookland in 2001, after Point Blanc and before the incident at Wimbledon. Then Mr. Big Shot Football Scout had not re-offered Alex a life line to Football Academy. He'd had worn the same hard face as the teachers. All of them having made theirs minds up that Alex Rider was a bad lot. Alex could understand their point of view as at that point he had been on thin ice at school especially after the science block got torched. He was not even invited to football practice when he returned to school for Year 11 in November after the death of that bastard, Ash. It did not change the fact he was the same person and was he just supposed to forget getting the cold shoulder and being ignored. "Sorry about that, Mrs Harris. It just gets my goat when people act all sympathetic and caring when the fact is, before I got ill, they would not even give me the time of day."
Brenda Harris looked a bit shocked, an expression shared by quite a few of the other parents that had overheard Alex's quite personal confession. In a soft whisper she asked the question she did not want answered "Is it true then, about the abuse?"
Alex then looked a bit sheepish, as the bright edge of his indignant anger bled away. He had not said anything too shocking or graphic, but the truth was in the open. There had been no gory details. He scanned the other witnesses to his outburst, but they were all pretending they had not heard anything, even though they would all be gossiping about it when he left. After all his talking over everything with Jake he was not ashamed of all the crap he had survived. In fact it mostly made him angry, which was an improvement on the passive acceptance he had to it all last year. "Yeah, I was getting hurt. I acted out because of it, Jake says its quite normal to do things, bad things to get 'adults' to notice something's up; when you've been threatened to keep your mouth shut or else. They threatened Jack, always an easy lever to get me to comply. Then, because they've got you in their mitts, you can't get out. I think of my illness as my reprieve, my ticket back to normal. Only, I've changed, I find it hard to fit in. I'm not the same Alex I was before." Alex let out a calming breath and ran through his mental katas for a return to peace and clarity.
The forty year old mother saw the emotionless mask grace Alex's face once again. It scared her that he could go from upset and righteously angry to completely calm like flicking a switch. It was his way of signaling, subject over, discussion at an end. She wondered if this was how all abused children coped with the horrors in their past. She worried about how much this lovely child had suffered, one she had gotten to know as a charming, bright and fun loving eleven year old. The main telling revelation was the subject of every parent's nightmare of sexual abuse. That was like a piece of the puzzle fitting into place. She had observed Alex and his supposed girlfriend Denise. She was a girl and a friend but there was no physical interaction between the pair. Tom and Cary were very touchy feely, open and happy with each other. She suspected they were sexually active, but never broached that topic with Tom, as the pair were over sixteen and it frankly wasn't her business. She'd told Tom to be careful, that sixteen was too young for fatherhood. Denise was a bright one, maybe she could invite the woman, as that sixteen year old was no girl, over for coffee. All the easier as she and her baby boy Liam lived two tower blocks over, within sight of Brenda's maisonette.
Alex looked at Tom's mother, whose face was pale and drawn with worry. He frowned wondering what the matter was and then it hit him like a train. He had thrown the "sexual abuse" card into the open. How to back track from that when she was probably thinking he'd been a rent boy or something. "It wasn't the full monty, the sexual abuse stuff, I was only humiliated, made to strip, people made comments, suggestions, no actual errr ... rapes." Alex face burned red as it felt like he was digging himself into a hole. "I need some space, say sorry to Tom about me missing the second half."
He made himself walk at a steady pace to the playing field gates and then he ran at full pelt all the way to the Albert Bridge, only stopping to catch his breath when he reached the junction at Royal Hospital Road
He entered the front hall with a sense that he was finally somewhere safe. He stood stock still by the glass front door familiarising himself with the layout, positive all was well as he could see Jen's back as she was working in the garden room, with the door open.
"You're back early, I thought the game was on until 11:30?" His foster mother broke the silence, Alex felt a bit shitty as Jen liked her time alone to get her freelance illustration work done.
He decided to unload just how embarrassing his morning had been. "I made a complete tit of myself at half time. The football scout was there and he made some bland sympathetic general assumptions and I kind of let him have the whole spiel that leukemia was the least of my problems. I was very vocal and let the cat out of the bag on the abuse thing, as in the sexual stuff. I had to back track a bit, as Tom's mum assumed the worst. I had to reassure her it wasn't rape, just well, it was pretty awful even if they didn't actually fuck me." Awful such a small word to reduce being scared to death and completely humiliated, first by Yassen and then by Nile.
There was another shocked gasp. It seemed Jen was not alone. Alex crept forward and got to the doorway of the studio space used by both Jen and Peter, there sat against the back wall was a white haired sixty something handsome lady in a neat twin set and tweed skirt, with tan tights and plain brown court shoes with matching handbag large enough for all the necessities including several bricks or a sub-machine gun. "Alex meet my mother, Beryl Cavendish."
Alex was sure he was now bright red with embarrassment. "Morning, sorry for disturbing you. I'll leave you in peace." In a swift move Alex made back out of the front door in four paces and then legged it down St. Loo Avenue and up Chelsea Manor Drive and onto King's Road. Shit it was not quite 11am on a Saturday morning, way too early on Californian time, Sabina would be fast asleep. James was in the middle of exams and didn't need Sicknote Rider unloading his personal grief at him. He knew one insomniac from the Point Blanc Alumni, who always stated he did his best work between one and five in the morning. Alex noted the phone number in the phone box opposite Habitat, and texted Paul to see if he could phone him back. Alex was sure these long distant phone calls were never an issue with Paul's cousin, probably paid for by Roscoe Industries which owned at least two telecommunication giants.
The phone rang after five minutes of Alex pretending to be using the phone, not that any of the crowds shopping on this bright and sunny Saturday wanted to use the telephone box as most had mobiles these days.
"What's up Alex?"
"I... well... have I told you about France, when Edward got blown up?" Alex asked cagily, to open up the conversation.
"No, not personally. I have read his book as you feature in it, not by name but as Sabina's close friend. You made it into three chapters. So, what's the deal?"
"Yassen Gregorovich... he's... he was Cossack the assassin. He kind of scared the shit out of me, after I confronted him after the bombing. He kind of kidnapped me, strip searched me as in full cavity search, then gave me the chance to get away. He... well, I've discussed it with Jake, my shrink, it was more complicated than that as when we next met up, he as in the assassin stated he loved me."
"And your feelings about this? I know he was killed by Cray." Paul stated in his best imitation of his own therapist, hoping to get Alex to open up about why he needed to talk so urgently.
"Well, in the game of what if; if Yassen had survived and offered for me to go with him to get away from MI6, I would have. I ... would have accepted a sexual relationship with him, even though I know I was not mentally or emotionally ready for that. If he wanted me, loved me, I would have accepted that even though I didn't love him. I find it kind of scary that I would have done that. Then again I went off to Venice and ended up in a quagmire with his employers. Nile did a similar thing to me there, as in the full strip search thing, all with the commentary that he understood why Yassen had fallen for my charms and that he'd be happy to accept me in his bed."
"Thats a heavy load of shit to deal with Alex, but I guess you have talked it over with your shrink. So, I guess you told someone else."
"I was at a Brookland soccer game this morning and one of the coaches fucked me off. I was pissed that he was all smiles and sympathy regarding my baldness and malfunctioning blood cells, when last year the bastard would not even be bothered to say hello. I let him have the full monty and I kind of told him in a very basic way that being abused was way more of a big deal than cancer. Well, Tom's mum was stood right next to me and I guess it kind of shocked her that all that crap about me running away and getting into trouble with the police two years ago was because I was being forced to do stuff. Anyway, you had the same shit stuff done to you at Point Blank Academy to create their doppelgängers."
"Yeah, well I was a bit creeped out when it came to light we'd all be drugged stripped and photographed in minute detail. Thats not the worst of it for me. I had a hard time with my bitch of a step sister, she was completely psycho, tried to seduce me and stuff, then I was told off for lying when I told my dad. I got some balls coming back after Grenoble. I told security to install cameras in my bedroom, so they caught that bitch in the act. That was the main reason I was able to get away from the evil step mother. I heard Greta got a deal for darling Mimi, who got away with some court appointed therapy. I hope both those bitches burn in hell. They made a mistake not tying me into a non-disclosure clause cause when I'm eighteen I'm giving a warts and all interview about their part in getting Dad to send me to that fucking school. So I know where your coming from and talking to the shrink helps, so does being open with those you can trust and Tom's mum strikes me as someone you can count on."
Alex relaxed, he really did not care about the other parents gossiping about him. The hard part was explaining all this to Jen's ever so posh mother. Alex was not looking forward to that particular talk when he got home. It could have been worse, if Ben or Dan had been there. They seemed to throw each others embarrassing moments as weapons against each other in their constant bickering. It was funny Tom and Jerry did not bicker, but Jerry was seven years older than his little brother.
...
Lunch was half eaten when Alex arrived back, after a lengthy stroll around Chelsea to think things through. Paul always sounded so level headed, it was quite comforting to hear him sound so angry about his own personal problems. The young entrepreneur was in contact with Joe, Cassian and Canadian Tom. He had revealed their fundraising plan. A fifty fifty split of anything raised between local charities and ones Alex supported. James' dad was handling all the funds through the Bank of Geneva. In six months, a series amount of cash had been accumulated. Now, Alex understood Cary and Tom's series of cake sales over the past few months. They too were in on this 'fundraising drive'. The next one was the following Saturday, maybe it was time for Alex to get his finger out and bake something. He hadn't really cooked anything since Food Tech in Years Seven and Eight. He remembered his one attempt at scones had been alright as he and Tom had eaten them all before getting home.