“I’m not here to judge. Your family has been put in an extremely stressful situation over the last week. Arguments are to be expected.”
“Aiden was in the other room. It was the day we met at the woods. I was… not in a good place. I tried to go home and the reporters were there, so I went to my best friend’s house. Rob came to meet us. He was agitated. Some reporter had taken his picture and he was obsessed with the idea that they’d accuse him of the kidnap. They always go after the dads, he said. I told him about the thing with the police and he lost his temper.”
“In a violent way?”
“No. Just raised voices. Then there was a slight pause, and I heard this high-pitched singing coming from the living room. I think it was Aiden. We’d left him in there watching Disney films.”
“You’re sure it was Aiden? It couldn’t have been the film?”
I shrugged. “It didn’t sound like anything from the film. He had the sound muted when I walked in.”
“Did you recognise the words or the tune from what Aiden was singing?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t hear words, just a small voice. It was… kind of haunting. You know those creepy songs they use in horror films when a child is possessed by a ghost or a doll comes to life?”
A half-smile spread across her lips. “My husband watches those films, so yes.”
“It was a little bit like that. Like a nursery rhyme.” I shivered. I hadn’t thought much about the song since we’d come back from Josie’s. I’d had the reporters to deal with, and then I had tried to block out the world. Maybe I tried too hard. Maybe Jake was right.
“And since that moment?” she prompted.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Barely a whimper.”
“On the day you heard the singing, did anyone else hear his voice?”
“No, actually. It was just me. Do you think I imagined it?”
“No,” she said, with a voice that suggested that perhaps she did. “Not necessarily, but we can’t rule it out as an explanation. Now, tell me about how Aiden is sleeping since he came home from the hospital.”
“He goes to bed at 8pm every night and I check on him at 9pm. He’s always laid with his eyes shut, but I’m not sure if he’s asleep or not. Sometimes I think he’s pretending.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Just the way he lies on his back with his arms on either side. It doesn’t look comfortable. Sometimes, when I check on him later in the night, he’ll have rolled onto his side, and that seems more normal.”
“Any night terrors?”
“He sleeps with the door open. Always. I’ve never closed the door to a room he’s in. I think that might help him, because he’s been sleeping well since he came home. There was one time I saw him tossing and turning. I didn’t want to wake him, because I know he doesn’t like to be touched too much. After about thirty seconds he drifted into a deeper sleep and seemed fine.”
Dr Foster tapped her pen on top of her open notebook. “That’s a very good sign. He’s getting rest. He’s clearly putting on some weight. These are all good things, Mrs. Price-Hewitt. You’re doing just fine.”
“You’d say that even after what you saw the other day in the woods?” I let out a hollow laugh.
“Yes. I would. You’re only human, Emma. Try not to beat yourself up about the incident in the forest. Everyone was under intense stress. It was a little too soon for Aiden, that’s all.” She leaned back in her chair. “Now, tell me how you’re doing. Would you like me to refer you to a therapist? You’ve been through an extraordinary event. Talking about it might help.”
“No, thank you. I had some therapy after I thought Aiden had drowned. It helped in some ways, but not in others. I’m okay. I thought Aiden had died. I’ve already been through the worst pain a human being can deal with. Everything that comes after that pales in significance. I’m going to be fine.”
“There’s a big difference between being fine and being well, Emma.” Dr Foster leaned her chin on her fist and spoke softly. “Everyone wants you to be well, happy, and healthy, just remember that. Especially Aiden.” She got to her feet with a deep groan, rubbing her knees. “These old bones. The cold sets in these days. Just you wait.” She winked at me. “And how are we getting on over here, Aiden? What have you drawn for me?”
Aiden lifted his picture and I broke out into a smile. Just the fact that my son had held up his own artwork was enough to make me feel joy. But Dr Foster wasn’t smiling at all. I got up from my seat, cradling my belly, and made my way over to the other side of the room. It was there that I saw what Aiden had drawn.
Like his first piece of art, there was no shape, only chaos. This time he’d chosen two red crayons to complete his piece. The red crayon lines spread from one side of the page to the other, like his first drawing in the hospital. But there was one difference to this piece. In the centre of the picture, Aiden had drawn a set of white, sharp teeth. They were open wide, ready to chomp down on its prey. My first instinct was to snatch the drawing out of his hands, screw it up and throw it away. But I didn’t. I nodded and I smiled, but all the time I felt as though ants were crawling over my skin.
ChapterEighteen
Ileft Aiden’s distressing art with Dr Foster, uneasy about letting anything that sinister into my home. But, as she’d informed me on the way out of her office, Aiden needed some way to express himself. While he was unable to do so verbally, he needed another outlet. Drawing would be excellent therapy for him. Back in the car, before we set off, I leaned against the steering wheel to compose myself. I knew what I had to do, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it.
“Okay, Aiden. Let’s get you home.”
