“This is Alfie,” Oliver said, reaching around to pat the boy’s head. “He’s a little shy.”
If his reluctance perturbed the woman, she did not show it. “Hi Alfie! Wow, what handsome Daddies you have!” She said, winking at Oliver. He knew it was meant as a kind gesture, but the comment made him want to vomit, as did the way Patrick’s eyes bored into the side of his skull as he handed over the money.
“They’re not my Daddies,” Alfie said abruptly. “Paddy told me my Mummy and Daddy are dead.”
Because kids just loved to correct adults.
The cashier went very pale as she stared at the two of them. Oliver could see her hand drifting towards a red button beneath the till, so he lurched forward, whipped out his badge and pressed it to the desk. “I’m a police officer, he’s a social worker,” he said, jabbing his thumb towards Patrick. “Just before you get the wrong idea. I can leave you my office details if you’d like to double check.”
Because it really wasveryclear from her expression that she thought they’d kidnapped a child and killed his parents. “O-Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” she said, face visibly relaxing. “Here you go Alfie.” She tried to hand him a balloon, but he shrunk even further behind Oliver’s legs.
“It’s okay, I can carry it for you,” Oliver said, taking the massive blue dolphin from the woman.
As they walked towards the main entrance, Patrick went uncharacteristically quiet. Chancing a look at the alpha, Oliver noticed that his ginger brows were furrowed as though deep in thought.
“Why do you think he hates females so much?” Patrick eventually asked. Oliver scowled and pressed a finger to his own lips, telling Patrick to keep his voice down. Frowning, Patrick continued, “If only males abused him, then why women?
Eyes flitting to the brightly coloured banners overhead, Oliver whispered, “Because it was the betrayal of his mother that damaged him the most. By facilitating the abuse, she shattered the only secure attachment he had. Kids’ brains have a way of dissociating from trauma, but the betrayal of a parent will stay with them for life.”
Didn’t they teach him anything at social worker school?
As they passed under the huge awning, Alfie’s eyes went wide and the wonder radiated off his pale little face. Patrick was about to say something further, but Oliver shushed him, wanting Alfie to enjoy the moment. Patrick huffed and pulled out his phone, clearly perturbed by the dismissal. Oliver took advantage of the distraction as he clutched Alfie’s hand, leading him towards a huge spherical tank containing bright pink jellyfish. The boy leant up on his tip-toes, eyebrows pulling together as he strained to see.
“Here.” Oliver held open his arms. Hesitantly, Alfie stepped towards him and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Heave-Ho!” Oliver said, lifting the boy onto his hip. “Pretty cool, huh? Look at that one over there!” He pointed as a huge jellyfish floated towards them, the pinky-white colour reflecting in Alfie’s eyes.
“Mummy’s friend had jellyfish underpants,” Alfie said, still gazing at the fish.
Oliver chuckled, “Jellyfish pants? That’s one way to sting your bum.”
Alfie laughed and rested his head on Oliver’s shoulder. “No! Not a real jellyfish. A picture.”
“Ah I see. Did you say it was Mummy’s friend?”
“Yeah. He sometimes made it snow.”
Oliver blinked as he looked down at Alfie and then glanced back at Patrick who was still engrossed in his phone. “A-And what was it like? When the jellyfish man made it snow?”
Alfie hummed as he wrapped his arms a little tighter around Oliver’s neck. “Loud. Mummy and Daddy always had a dance party. The jellyfish man tucked me into bed when I couldn’t sleep.”
Oliver swallowed, mind racing as he thought of what to say next. “That was nice of him. Did he read you a bedtime story?”
“No.”
“No? But you can’t go to sleep without a good bedtime story!”
Alfie giggled, pressing his cheek to Oliver’s. “Foster mummy Sarah reads me stories. I like the one about the monster and the mouse.”
“The Gruffalo?”
“Yeah! Jellyfish man sounded a bit like the Gruffalo.”
“How so?”
“When he lay in bed with me. He made the same growling noise.”
Fuck.
The truth was, Oliver hated the Gruffalo. Something about the green pimple on the end of the monster’s nose made him feel deeply uncomfortable. But he’d read that story a hundred times if it made Alfie smile.
