“Are you all set?” I asked, again with the bright, cheery voice that sounded forced. I kept reminding myself of annoying TV presenters on the kids’ channel, bright-eyed and blonde with a permanent grin fixed to their faces.
Aiden moved away from the window and towards me, but again he didn’t say a word. He didn’t really look at me either, but at least he was walking towards me. That was a start. It was an acknowledgement of my presence. It was better than nothing.
“Right then, pal,” Rob said. “You’d better say your goodbyes to Dr Schaffer and the others. We’re taking you home, mate. Mum’s got Walnut the Dragon all ready for you.”
I’d almost forgotten that bit. Aiden insisted on calling his dragon Walnut because my mum loved her Walnut Whips, and I was always teasing her about the walnut addiction. Somehow, Aiden latched onto the association between his Nana and the walnuts. Hearing the familiar name hit me in the gut with a bomb of emotion. It erupted through me, fireworks extending to my fingers and toes. That was what I used to have. That was my perfect, happy time.
Aiden followed us silently as we made our way back through the hospital to the carpark. His footsteps were quiet, though he still moved with a stiff gait. The jeans and jumper I’d bought for him were for a much younger child, yet they still hung loosely on his hips. Dr Schaffer had told me to cook plenty of protein-rich foods, like chicken and fish, to help build up his muscles.
I longed to take his hand but I refrained, aware of how much he disliked being touched. Instead, I matched his stride, stepping along with him, and facing the rest of the hospital with him as we walked him out of the building together. All eyes were on him. Every nurse stopped what they were doing to stare at the boy who had come back from the dead. Every room we passed, the patients and visitors peeked out through the doors. And the closer we got to the front of the hospital, the more a seeping sense of dread worked its way through my system. I glanced at Denise, and saw the tension running along her jaw. She felt it too.
Word had got out.
If the hospital staff and patients knew who Aiden was, that meant gossip of Aiden’s strange arrival had started to spread. But how far had it gone?
We were only two or three paces out of the glass doors when a wiry man with a hooked nose stepped into our path.
“Matthew Grey from the Yorkshire Post. Is this Aiden Price?”
Marcus stepped forward, shielding Aiden from the intrusive man, while Denise whispered to me, “Don’t say anything.”
Rob and I put our heads down and walked on, guiding Aiden gently away, but the man sidestepped Marcus and approached Aiden directly.
“Are you Aiden Price?”
“Get away from him,” I said between my teeth. This time I did take Aiden’s hand. I pulled him away from the reporter and hurried to the car with my heart beating hard and my chest tight.
This time it was only one. Next time, we wouldn’t be so lucky.
12
PC Denise Ellis put the kettle on as soon as we made it into the house.
“They’ll find out where you live soon,” she warned. “They can’t come onto the property but they’ll hang around the boundaries with cameras. We’ll do what we can to keep them away. It might be time to get a lawyer and maybe someone in public relations to help.”
I didn’t want to deal with all this. Aiden had only just taken his shoes off. I’d bought him Velcro trainers: I didn’t even know if he could tie his own shoelaces, and I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed by not knowing how. We were all crowded awkwardly in the kitchen. All I could think about was how PC Ellis had just left the teabag on the very expensive ash kitchen side and how it might stain, and how PC Hawthorne still had his boots on.
“Is that really necessary?” I asked. My hands were at it again, one rubbing over the other. “Won’t it be expensive?”
Denise stirred milk into the tea. “Yes, but you can potentially make quite a lot of money, you know. There are newspaper interviews, TV interviews, the lot. They pay well and you get to tell your story.” The stirring stopped and she looked up at me. “But don’t speak to anyone until the investigation is over. When we put the kidnapper behind bars, that’s when you can start talking to the press.”
“No one is telling this story except Aiden.”
“I know, but the press are going to hound you. What we can do, if you want, is release a statement asking for privacy at this difficult time. It never works, but then if they cross the line, you’ve warned them not to.”
She handed me a hot cup of tea and I blew on the liquid to cool it.