Heart of Stone

People said it was remarkable that the O'Donnell family had managed to move to a new town at all. Anyone who had ever met Jim O'Donnell and his wife, Maisie, generally summed them up as having barely any brain cells between them to rub together. Most of their offspring didn't, either, but there were a couple of exceptions.

Young Maisie, the eldest daughter, hadn't got off to a promising start in life, finding herself pregnant at fourteen with the father of her child nowhere to be seen. Becoming a mother had, in Young Maisie's case, awoken in her a modicum of intelligence and determination. She didn't want her daughter, Keeley, to grow up the same way she had, in an overcrowded, tatty house on a run-down, drab housing estate in Lewisham.

Ironically, it was Jim O'Donnell's stupidity that ultimately made the move possible. One day, he'd enjoyed an extremely rare streak of good fortune. Studying form, when it came to betting on horses, was beyond him, so his method of choosing which horse to bet on was to run his pudgy finger down the list, looking for names which meant something to him. His lips moved as he struggled to read the lists, but he came across Daisy Chain, in the 1.30 at Aintree. Daisy was the name of his youngest daughter, so he'd bet his last tenner on it at fifty to one. By some miracle, Daisy Chain had romped home in first place and Jim found himself with twenty-five crisp twenties in his hand.

While most sensible people would quit while ahead, Jim didn't. He ran his finger down the list for the 2.30, and found Jimmy Riddle, a horse with similarly long odds and the name of his eldest son. Jim bet his entire winnings on Jimmy Riddle. That netted him a princely sum, but he wasn't finished yet. The 3.30 had a runner named Adam and Eve It, and since his youngest son was named Adam, the lot went on that horse. The odds were better - two to one, and Jim's luck was holding. By four o'clock, he had won fifty thousand pounds. The final race at four fifteen had no runners that shared names with any of Jim's family, so he went home to get drunk instead.

Not a bad day's earnings, he thought, as he put his feet up and took a swig of premium lager. He laid the money out on the coffee table to admire it, and after a few cans of lager, fell asleep.

Enter Young Maisie, home from Keeley's quarterly medical check-up. She saw the piles of banknotes on the table and stared.

'Dad!' She shrieked. 'Where'd all that dosh come from?'

'Wha...?' Jim spluttered.

'That money. Where did it come from? Who nicked it?'

'Nobody. I won it on the horses.'

'Liar.'

'Nope. Take a butcher's at this!' Jim thrust the betting slips under his daughter's nose. She took them and inspected them. It seemed that Jim had indeed come into the money in a perfectly legitimate way.

'You know what this means!' she cried.

'We're rich?' Jim said.

'We can use this to get out of this hell hole! Buy a house in the country!'

'House in the country?' Jim stared at her dumbly.

Young Maisie had an argument up her sleeve that she knew her father would not be able to resist. 'If we move, those pesky social workers won't be able to come round sticking their noses in our business any more,' she said.

"You mean we'd be rid of those interfering busybodies?" Jim was convinced. The most recent visitor, a fresh-faced young woman just out of college, had given him a stern lecture about cutting back on his drinking, and he could do without that sort of thing. He'd had a worse headache after she'd left than he ever had after a night down the pub.

So the family left London and installed themselves in two adjacent terraced houses in Canterbury, much to the relief of Lewisham Social Services Department, for whom the O'Donnell family had been a twenty-three year headache.

It didn't occur to the O'Donnell's that bureaucracy would follow them; but follow them it did, in the form of a very fat and very tatty folder with their name on it. It landed on Rosemary Ellis's desk one Monday morning with a dull thud, along with a covering letter from her counterpart in Lewisham, wishing her the very best of British luck.

Rosemary resisted any temptation to read anything in the folder before carrying out an assessment visit to the family. She believed people were too often labelled by the things that were written in their folders. Reports always seemed to regurgitate phrases like, 'disturbed young man,' or 'cantankerous old woman', lazily lifted from documents in the folders, without giving the person in question any chance to put it right; so Miss Ellis never read case-files before meeting the people. She wanted to create her own impressions. She opened the file for just long enough to make a note of the address.

Had she read the folder first, she would have learned the O'Donnell family history, summarised thus.

Jim O'Donnell had taken advantage of the vapid Maisie Malone 22 years earlier. She had not had the intelligence or the will-power to resist; Jim O'Donnell had got himself laid without much effort. Unfortunately, Maisie had not been intelligent enough to know about contraception either. Three months later, Jim had been forced to marry her, under threat from her gangster brothers that if he didn't make an honest woman of her and give her child a name, very painful things would happen to Jim's kneecaps.

Jim had not taken kindly to marriage. He was violent towards Maisie, resentful that she had deprived him of his freedom, but neither of them had the brains to leave the other. Thereafter, Maisie had a child each year for nine years, except for one year, when she had twins. Jim drank heavily, refused to work and occasionally had violent outbursts. Maisie lived on valium. She didn't feed her growing family properly, partly because there was never enough money and partly because working out a balanced diet was too complicated for her. She let her brood run wild.

They were kept alive by a generation of health visitors and social workers, who, as the family grew up and seemed to become more and more problematic, often wondered why they'd bothered.

The eldest child, Jimmy, took after his father. At twenty-two, he had never worked, preferring to spend his time drinking and gambling alongside his father.

The twins, John and Joe, had never worked either, not in the conventional sense. They went into petty crime, channelling their limited intelligence into stealing car radios and selling them, and convincing their probation officers they were not doing so.

Jack had followed his father by getting a girl pregnant at a young age. He'd married her, but she, unlike Jack's mother, was not going to lie down and take the O'Donnell laziness and abuse, and after a few months, she filed for divorce. There was a messy row over custody of the child, which Jack lost. There had followed several appearances in court for attempted kidnapping, failure to obey court injunctions to keep away, and for defaulting on maintenance payments. Jack did work, but his labourer's pay hardly covered the maintenance payments.

Billy had a career - in the pharmaceutical industry. He was a full-time sampler of their products, and a part time salesman. In other words, he was a drug addict who engaged in casual dealing to support his habit. Strange as it may seem, his day was more structured than that of any other member of the family. He was always the first to get up in the morning, because he needed a fix, and the rest of the day was spent organising his supply for the evening and following morning; getting the money somehow, seeking out his dealer, or finding a new dealer if the usual one had been busted. He had to be resourceful and cunning, to keep out of the way of the police. Sometimes, if supplies dried up, he'd sign on at the local drug dependency clinic, which required acting skills, too. ('I really mean it this time. I want to come off.')

Sometimes, he would buy some dope along with the heroin, and sell it to his younger brother Gerald. Gerald suffered from mild schizophrenia. Using cannabis was not a good idea for him, but nobody in the family connected this with his occasional paranoid episodes. When he had one of his "turns", John and Joe would bundle him into their car and take him to the psychiatric hospital and leave him there for a couple of weeks.

Young Maisie, the long awaited daughter, was seventeen and already had a three year old daughter. She was the one the family looked to to fight all their battles these days, for having Keeley had made her grow up rapidly. She actually had a few brains and a modest amount of common sense.

There was another girl, Daisy. Daisy was as thin as piece of string and suffered badly from eczema. She was away from school twice as often as she was there, due to her numerous illnesses and family crises. There were a couple of facts about Daisy that hadn't found their way into the file yet. One was that she was addicted to cough medicine, the other was that she was pregnant. Not even her mother or sister knew about the pregnancy, although Young Maisie was on the verge of guessing. It had taken Daisy four months to realise that she was pregnant in the first place, and thereafter had been afraid to tell. Her father would want to know who was responsible; she didn't want to tell him it was Brady Stone. Brady was black, her baby would be black, and Jim O'Donnell wouldn't like that one tiny bit. So Daisy didn't tell anyone.

Donald, fifteen, was a juvenile delinquent. He shaved his head, wore Dr. Martens, sniffed glue and smashed up telephone boxes.

The file said very little about Adam, the youngest. He suffered from severe eczema, which had never responded to treatment. He'd never been in any trouble, never taken any drugs, other than those doctors had prescribed for his eczema. He had not, however, been to school for some time, although there were medical notes covering most of his absences. Before the eczema had taken hold, he'd gone to school regularly and even appeared to be reasonably bright. The O'Donnells were extremely cagey about Adam. For the last couple of years, no-one had even seen him.

Rosemary Ellis stood on the doorstep of the O'Donnells' new home. The houses had not been the most salubrious in town, even before the family moved in. The paintwork was peeling, the garden overgrown. The O'Donnells had made the situation even worse by bringing with them a battered, rusty old car, two bicycle frames and three dogs, as delinquent as some of the human members of the family. Rosemary couldn't help feeling out of place in her smart working clothes.

The dogs barked, and after some time, a tired-looking woman only slightly older than Rosemary herself, opened the door. 'Mrs O'Donnell?'

'Yes,' the woman replied.

'I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you. My name is Rosemary Ellis, from Kent Social Services. There's nothing to worry about, I just wanted to introduce myself. I understand you were in contact with the department in Lewisham, so I wanted you to know who I am if you need anything.'

'You better come in,' Maisie said, listlessly.

Rosemary followed her down the dingy corridor, littered with baby paraphernalia that Keeley had long grown out of, but that no-one had never bothered to dispose of. The house smelled strongly of dogs and whisky. Maisie showed Rosemary into a drab living room. Jim O'Donnell was sitting in his stained vest and shabby old sweat pants, a glass in his hand, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. He looked up briefly as Rosemary entered, then turned back to the programme without a word. A little girl in a grubby dress was sitting on the floor by his chair, playing with empty beer cans. A pale teenage girl in a faded dressing gown lay on the sofa, apparently asleep.

'Tea?' Maisie asked. 'There's some in the pot.'

'Thank you.'

'Please, sit down. Daisy, move over, let the lady sit down. What's the matter with you?' The pale girl sat up slowly. 

'I feel sick,' she said, and curled up in a corner of the sofa and closed her eyes again.

'Dunno what's wrong with her. She feels sick all the time these days.' Maisie commented as Rosemary seated herself at the opposite end of the sofa.

'Have you seen a doctor?' Rosemary asked the girl.

'No,' Daisy said, opening one eye.

'You probably should. He could give you something for the nausea.'

'Who are you, anyway?' Jim growled.

Rosemary introduced herself again. Jim grunted. Maisie reappeared with the tea. Jim turned away and staggered over to the television set, and thumped it hard. 'Telly's on the blink, too.'

Maisie ignored him and sat down. 'Don't take any notice of him,' she told Rosemary. Secretly, she actually liked some of the social workers - they were usually kind to her. Not having any friends in Canterbury, she was happy to have someone to talk to; and over the next few minutes, Rosemary proved most helpful in recommending doctors, good places to shop and other practical things about the area. Every so often as they talked, the picture on Jim's TV would flicker; he would swear, get up and slam his fist on the set, then sit down in front of it again.

It was not until Rosemary asked innocently, 'How many children do you have, Mrs O'Donnell?' that things began to get ugly. 

'Ten,' Maisie said.

'Nine,' Jim growled.

'Jimmy, John, Joe, Jack, Bill, Gerald, Maisie, Daisy, Donald and...'

'Nine,' Jim growled, more loudly. Maisie fell silent. It was obvious to Rosemary that she'd inadvertently touched a nerve. 'Now, I think you'd better go, Miss Ellis,' Jim hauled himself to his feet and lumbered towards her. She could smell the beer on his breath. He wagged his finger at her. 'We had enough of your sort in London, always sticking their noses in. We don't need you here as well. So push off, or I'll set the dog on you!'

Rosemary stood her ground. 'I'm here to help,' she said.

'That's it.' Jim said. 'Conan!'

The Rottweiller lurched to its feet, a menacing growl beginning in its throat. Rosemary knew it was even more important that she keep her cool now. Dogs are far more sensitive to human fear than other humans. Not that she was afraid. As usual, she knew just what to do.

Rosemary Ellis the social worker had a few secrets of her own. She was a slim, elegant woman in her late thirties. Her hair was light brown with a few, barely visible streaks of grey. She wore her hair in a professional tight bun; and was dressed in a crisp white blouse, grey slacks and a navy-blue jacket. She wore a single pearl on a chain around her neck, and was never seen without a chunky copper bracelet on each wrist. Her colleagues and the families assigned to her had never seen her let her professional persona slip. None of them, including the O'Donnells, had any idea about Rosemary Ellis's other life, or the things that made her unique.

She had talents, super-powers, you could say, which included the ability to defend herself using the power of thought. She faced the dog squarely as it braced itself to leap at her. Without taking her eyes off it, she projected a mild psionic attack at the animal. It yelped in pain and crawled under the table. Jim's mouth fell open. Even Daisy roused herself to stare. 

'Good day, Mr O'Donnell,' Rosemary said, and left, smiling to herself. The dog would he fine. It would feel like it had been at one of Jim's whisky bottles, but it would survive.

Back at her office, she took out the file, and verified that there were indeed ten children. So why hadn't Jim wanted his wife to mention Adam? There was nothing in the folder to suggest why that should be. 

Rosemary Ellis couldn't resist a mystery. She would have to meet the daughter, Young Maisie, at some stage to make sure Keeley was being looked after - but the child had looked healthy and happy enough, so there was no immediate reason to go back. At this stage, another visit would only confirm Jim's opinion that she was a busybody; but Rosemary's curiosity was sufficiently piqued that she didn't want to wait until the next routine visit. Someone who didn't represent officialdom would have to look in on them and make a few discrete enquiries. 

Rosemary's closest friend, Peter Mayfield, as headmaster of a local school, wouldn't do, especially since the word "truant" had been applied several times to each of the children over the years.

Who might be allowed in for long enough to ask a few pointed questions and be able to have a look around without being suspected of prying? Ideally someone who could provide the family with help they actually thought they needed. Remembering the visit and various things that had been said, Rosemary had an idea.

Young Maisie answered the door, holding Keeley tightly by the hand. 'Who are you?' she addressed her sullen question to the woman who stood on the step. 'You're not a social worker, are you, 'cos if you are...'

'No,' Judith Brent said hastily. 'Nothing like that.' She could see the shadowy figure of Jim, looking on suspiciously from the doorway to the kitchen. 'The reason I'm calling is that I'm setting up an electrical repairs business in the area. I wanted to leave you my card.'

'Oh really?' Jim said, as Young Maisie studied the card, 'what does a woman like you know about fixing things?'

Rosemary's associate, Judith Brent, was indeed setting up such a business. She, too, had a secret life and secret talents, including genius level intelligence and a particular gift for anything to do with electronics. It was the obvious cover and a way to make some spending money.

'You might be surprised,' Judith said. 'Let me make you an introductory offer. If you have any faulty appliances just now, I'll mend them for you, free of charge.'

Young Maisie heard the words 'free of charge' and cut in. 'You keep saying the telly's on the blink, Dad. Let her have a look at it. Can't do any harm.'

'All right. Show her where it is, I'm going down the pub. Where's your mother?'

'Dunno,' Maisie said. 'Gone to the doctor's, I expect. Here's the telly.' There was the sound of someone throwing up coming from the bathroom above. 'Oh God,' Maisie cried. 'Daisy. I'll be back.'

Judith shrugged. So much for asking questions. The little girl was hardly likely to tell her anything. 'What are you doing?' the little girl asked, as Judith removed the casing from the back of the TV.

'Mending your granddad's telly,' Judith replied. She looked at the workings inside, and spotted the loose connection immediately. 'Stay over there, sweetheart,' Judith told the girl. 'I have to use a tool that gets very hot.' She took out a soldering iron, and after a few moments, said, 'There. That should fix it.'

'Adam's telly doesn't work either.'

Adam. Judith recognised the name. That was the one Rosemary wanted her to find out about. 'No? Perhaps Adam would like me to mend his telly, too?' The girl nodded. 'Where is it? Show me?'

She followed the child up the stairs. Keeley stopped in front of a closed door. 'It's in there,' she said.

Judith knocked on the door. 'W-Who is it?' a gruff and frightened voice answered.

'I hear you're having bother with your television set.'

'No. It's fine.'

'That's not what your niece said. I'm setting up a business around here, and I'm doing a few repairs free of charge. Let me look at it for you.'

'No. No thanks.'

Judith was about ready to give up when Keeley reached up and pushed the door open. The room was dark - heavy curtains were drawn over the windows, so that the only light came from the flickering screen. Adam was hunched on the bed, with his back to the door. He was surrounded by empty crisp wrappers, mugs and plates. Judith couldn't stop herself from letting out a little gasp when she saw him. He was much too large for his years; his head and hands and feet were grossly out of proportion to the rest of him. Worst of all, his skin was rough and craggy, just like rock. Why, she thought, he's like another Elephant Man...

'I told you not to come in,' he said, thickly.

'I'm sorry. I had no idea...'

'I know. You had no idea I was so ugly. Please. Leave me alone.'

'I said I'd fix your television, and I intend to do just that, no matter what you look like,' Judith said, briskly. Again, it was a common fault, easy to find and rectify. 'There. I think you'll find that's much better. You can call me again if there are any more problems. Here's my card...'

'Don't touch me,' he said, as she reached out to hand him the card.

She drew back. 'Does it hurt?' she asked.

'Of course it hurts. You'd hurt too if you had to go through life looking like this!'

She looked into his eyes. There was a sad, trapped creature behind them. A sensitive soul imprisoned in this body, in this room, in this house. Her heart went out to him. She laid her hand on his arm. The skin was rough and hard, but warm.

'What are you doing in here?' Young Maisie snapped, from the doorway.

Judith started. 'Your little girl told me there was another dodgy TV set in here. I've seen to it. It's not flickering now. Here.' She dropped one of her business cards on Adam's bed. 'If it starts playing up again, just call me, okay?' She smiled at Adam, and left the room.

'Oh. Good,' Young Maisie said, awkwardly, 'but she shouldn't have. Don't tell anyone about him, though. We don't want a fuss.'

'No. Of course you don't,' Judith said, and took her leave, but she made no promises not to say anything to anyone.

'He can't go on living like that!' Judith's words echoed around Peter Mayfield's head as he strode up to the O'Donnell residence. He agreed heartily. When Rosemary and Judith had told him about Adam, he knew he'd have to do something to help the boy. There was no medical condition which would leave him so disfigured; he had to be a genetic variant of some kind, and as such could not be ignored. The problem was going to be getting past his family.

Headmasters usually left problems of truancy to other officials, and didn't carry out home visits themselves. As it was, the officials hadn't yet picked up the fact that Adam had failed to register at a school in the area. Peter knew the officials wouldn't be able to help Adam as he could - anything that was in their power to do for Adam would be woefully inappropriate, however well-meaning. He had to get to Adam before they did. His position of Head of the nearest secondary school was the most plausible way of gaining access to the boy and assessing what could be done.

'Peter Mayfield, head of St. Kilda's school,' he announced to Jim when he opened the door. 

'I'm here about your youngest son. I notice he hasn't been put down for any of the schools in the area, and I'm rather concerned.'

'That's 'cos he's an invalid,' Jim snapped. 'He can't go to school.'

'I understand, but it is a legal requirement that children are educated up to the age of sixteen. If he's ill, then you will need to organise a special school or home tuition. I can help you with that. Perhaps I could have a word with your son?'

Jim stood solidly in the door frame. 'That isn't possible.' Peter suspected that any minute Jim would set Conan on him. He knew Jim hadn't hesitated to set the dog on Rosemary. He couldn't disable the dog with psionics like Rosemary had; but he had other talents, and he wanted to speak to Adam.

Jim hit the floor as if a twenty-stone wrestler had leapt on him from the landing and was sitting on him. He hadn't the strength to lift himself up from the floor. He growled with impotent fury as the headmaster stepped calmly over him and went up the stairs. The fury quickly gave way to fear. He recalled all the warnings he'd ever heard about sensible drinking. What had he done to himself? For the first time in his life, he was afraid he might have damaged his health.

Peter knocked on Adam's door and went right in. Adam was still hunched on the bed. It looked as if he hadn't moved since Judith had seen him. When he saw Peter, he buried his head in his hands and rocked back and forth. 'No. No.' he groaned.

Peter sat down beside him. 'I'm Peter, Adam. I just want to talk to you. Look at me. Please?'

Slowly, Adam raised his head. 'What do you want with me?' he asked, dully.

'I want to help you.'

'What can you do? Are you a doctor? Can you make me look like everyone else?'

He looked so hopeful. It hurt Peter to have to say, 'I'm not a doctor. I'm afraid I can't change how you look. I'm afraid a doctor couldn't, either; but I believe I know why you look that way.'

'So why? Let me guess. I'm cursed by God. That's what my dad says.'

'No,' Peter said, 'it's not that. You're a genetic variant.'

'A mutant, you mean. A monster.'

'Well, it's true that genetic variation is another word for a mutant, but I prefer to use genetic variant because it doesn't have the same negative connotations. Whatever you are, you are not a monster. A monster would have attacked me by now. You're just a lad with an unfortunate genetic variation.'

'How do you know that?'

'You see this device?' Peter held out his hand. He held out a small black box with a dial on it. 'It's called a G.V.D. Genetic Variation Detector. It's a small laboratory and computer in a box. It is continuously sampling the air, which contains skin and hair cells from both of us. It can detect any variation from a so-called normal genotype. It's telling me you are a variant.'

'I suppose it's nice to know why I look like this, but if you can't make it go away and make me look normal, you can't help. I might as well be dead.'

'I wouldn't say that,' Peter said. 'Variants usually have abilities - often the kinds of things people would call super-powers. In fact, I'm a variant myself, which is why I believe I can help you.'

'How can you help? I can't go out. I'm stuck in this room...'

'You don't have to be. I don't think you should live like this, all shut away with the curtains drawn. It isn't healthy. I'm suggesting you come and live with me. I have a big house, with grounds, surrounded by a high wall. If you live there, you'll be able to go outside in the fresh air without anyone seeing you. Not only that, you can meet some other variants. They know genetic variants can come in all shapes, sizes and colours, so you don't have to worry about frightening them. I'm a teacher, too, and I could arrange for you to be home-schooled so you can get some qualifications. Think about it. Give me a call.' He handed Adam his telephone number.

Adam stared at it, long after the man had gone. It sounded like a dream; he wanted it more than anything, but it had to be too good to be true. His dad would never let him go, for a start. How could he get to Peter's house, anyway? Even if he'd known where it was, he couldn't catch a bus or call a taxi or even walk there. He would terrify anyone who laid eyes on him. That was why he'd stopped going to school, even though, unlike his siblings, he'd enjoyed learning. He put the number aside with a gigantic sigh, and turned on the TV.

Something snapped inside Mrs. O'Donnell as she struggled home from the supermarket. Elation at finding the very reasonably priced one that the social worker had told her about gave way to frustration; now she had heavy bags to carry and no idea of the way home. She'd taken a wrong turning somewhere, and was hopelessly lost. She sat down heavily on a bench and started to cry.

Her inability to find her way home was the final straw in a string of catastrophes thrown at her by her family; new burdens she was somehow going to have to cope with. She looked at the smart suburban apartments across the street from where she sat, and wished she could live in one of those, instead of a dilapidated house that constantly smelled of dogs. She buried her head in her arms and sobbed.

'Mrs. O'Donnell? Are you all right?' Maisie stopped crying to wonder who could possibly be here who knew her. She looked up. 'You're not, are you? How about a nice cup of tea?' Rosemary Ellis said. 'My flat's just over there.'

Maisie gratefully followed Rosemary across the road and into the building. There was nothing she wanted more than a nice cup of tea, except perhaps someone to unload her problems onto, and Rosemary Ellis seemed perfectly able to provide both. 'Okay,' Miss Ellis said, handing her a steaming mug, 'feel like telling me what's wrong?'

'What's right? Jim's really sick. He fell down the other day and couldn't get up again for half an hour. He's drinking himself to death, I'm sure he is. He might not be a good husband, but I don't know what I'd do without him...'

Rosemary smiled to herself. She knew very well what had caused that, and it wasn't the drink. Nevertheless, it would do Jim O'Donnell no harm to worry about his drinking. 'I'm sure it's not too late, if he goes and sees a doctor right away.' Rosemary guessed that paralysis or no paralysis, any doctor would have sharp words about the amount Jim drank, and that could only be a good thing.

'And Daisy. She's pregnant. She told me this morning. She must be about six months gone. She was scared to say anything because the father's black. It doesn't bother me, but Jim will go crazy. He might even throw her out on the street.'

'If it comes to that, tell her to call me. I can find her a place to stay - that's what I'm here for. She told me, though, she hasn't seen a doctor. It's very important that she does, for her sake and the child's. Promise me you'll take her to the doctor.' Mrs O'Donnell nodded. 'Now, is there anything else?'

'Adam is more depressed than usual. I don't know what to do with him.'

'Who's Adam?' Rosemary knew she wasn't supposed to know about him, and kept to the pretence. 

'My youngest son. The one Jim didn't want me to tell you about. He's deformed, you see. Something wrong with his skin. He can't go out or anything. The doctors can't do nothing.'

'I'm sorry. So tell me, where is he now?'

'In the back bedroom. That's where he always is. It's such a shame. He was always the best of my bunch. He might have made something of himself. Given the chance.' Rosemary nodded. From what she'd heard, that was probably true.

'Perhaps he still can. I know someone who could help him. A friend of mine owns a big house, big enough for someone like Adam to get totally lost in; most of his visitors would understand about Adam's condition, and any who didn't could be easily avoided. He's a teacher, too - so Adam could catch up on his education.'

'Jim would never allow it.'

'What we're talking about is what's best for your son, not what Jim wants. You need to talk to Adam. Find out what he wants to do. I'll give you a lift home, if you like, we can speak to him together.'

'I'd like that,' Maisie said.

Daisy awoke in agony. Surely the baby wasn't coming already? She struggled out of bed, and down the stairs. She had to get someone to call for help. It wasn't time for the baby, not yet, but what else could all this pain be? Daisy stumbled from room to room - no-one was there. The house was empty. Jim and Jimmy were at the betting shop. Her mother wasn't back from the shops yet. John and Joe were out on one of their dubious errands; Billy was never around at this time of day - he'd be sorting out his fix. Jack was at work, Donald was at school, officially, anyway. Young Maisie had taken Keeley to the park, and Gerald was having one of his stays at the hospital, not that Gerald would have been any help even if he'd been there.

That left Adam. She hammered on his door. 'Adam, it's Daisy. Please, let me in!'

Adam lumbered over to the door, just in time to catch her as the pain got too much for her and she passed out. It was a few weeks since Adam had seen Daisy. She avoided him, as a rule. When he'd last seen her, her pregnancy had hardly been showing. Now it was obvious. It hurt that his own sister hadn't even told him she was pregnant. He lifted her effortlessly but gently onto his bed. He knew no-one else was home. He'd watched them all leave, from behind his net curtains, one by one. It was down to him to help her. How? He thought of Peter Mayfield. He still had the number. He'd know what to do. He could come over and drive Daisy to hospital.

There was no reply, just an answering machine. Adam realised he would have to take Daisy to hospital himself. There was no other way.

'I have to call in at my office first,' Rosemary said. 'I need to let them know where I'm going.'

Maisie nodded. The car swung into the hospital grounds. Rosemary's office was based in a pre-fabricated building at the far end. Rosemary took in the commotion that seemed to be taking place around the casualty department. A couple of police cars, blue lights flashing, were parked outside. A hysterical woman was being calmed by a young police officer. It was a hospital. Things like this occurred all the time. Rosemary drove past and turned into the staff car park.

Maisie followed Rosemary to her office, deciding that she really admired the woman. She lived and worked in such luxury, yet she was so kind and capable.

'Oh, Miss Ellis, there are a couple of quite urgent messages for you,' the receptionist said as they walked in. 'I left them on your desk.'

'Thanks, Emily,' Rosemary said, picking up the scraps of paper. She scanned them, quickly. There was a young girl in the maternity ward, giving birth prematurely, a single parent. She was going to need social work support. The bizarre aspect of the girl's confinement would be discussed with her by Sister when she got to the ward.

The second message was from Robert Keating, her boss, and today's duty social worker. Call urgently, it said. There was no other information. 'Maisie, I have a couple of calls to make, I'm afraid. I hope I won't be too long. Make yourself comfortable.'

She decided to deal with Robert first. She paged him, and he returned the call immediately. 'I'm in security,' he said. 'It's an incredible story. I'll tell you all about it later, but what I really need to know is where I can find Peter Mayfield. He's not at the school. I thought you might know where to find him.' Of all the people Robert Keating might want, Peter Mayfield was the least likely. The two of them had hardly spoken for years. It must be an emergency. 

Rosemary thought hard. 'What is it, Tuesday? Yes, I believe he's at a school board committee meeting. He'll be impossible to get hold of before four. Is there anything I can do?'

'I don't know. Maybe. Security are holding a - a person - who is asking for Peter Mayfield to be called. I can't really explain on the phone, you'll have to see for yourself. You won't believe it otherwise.'

'Okay. I have another call to make, then I'll drop in on my way out. Tell security that. Tell this person I'm a friend of Peter's and I'll help if I can.'

Maternity sister confirmed that, although the girl was well advanced in labour, it would be some hours yet before she was in a fit state to see a social worker. 'Make your calls, Miss Ellis, and call me again afterwards.'

'Can I have a name, so I can get my files ready?'

'Sure, her name is Daisy O'Donnell...'

Rosemary flashed a glance at Maisie, who was drinking her tea, blissfully unaware of the crisis. 'Right. How is she?'

'As well as can be expected. Wants her mother, but no-one seems to know where she is.'

'I do. She'll be there shortly.' She put the telephone down and turned to Maisie. 'Maisie, Daisy's on the ward. She's in labour. I think I'd better take you there instead of taking you home.' Maisie turned pale.

Maisie may not have been bright, but one thing she knew a lot about was childbirth. Daisy knew that, and visibly relaxed when she saw her mother. Rosemary left them and went to find Sister. 'What was this 'bizarre aspect' you were telling me about?'

'The way she got here,' Sister said. 'You'd have to see it to believe it. I think it must have been what started her off. You've seen the Incredible Hulk and all of those things, well, the Police picked up this - this thing, carrying her off down the street - they brought them both here. Security have got the monster. It was quite hideous.'

Sister's assumptions angered Rosemary. Especially when she knew that the 'thing' was Daisy's brother, not a monster at all, and that he would have been trying to help her, not harm her. 'I see you have everything under control here, as far as is possible, so if you'll excuse me, I have other calls to make,' she said, shortly, and walked out of the ward.

Sister watched her go, rankled by her tone. She had come to expect that of Rosemary Ellis, though. Sister had nothing but respect for the work Rosemary did; there was no doubt that she knew what she was doing, the majority of the time, but some of the stands she took were inconvenient to the point of irritation where the work of the ward was concerned.

When she was on the ward, Rosemary Ellis was officious and curt, almost rude. Yet Sister knew that in a day or two, she'd meet Rosemary Ellis in the canteen, and she'd apologise for her bad temper, and explain over coffee why she'd demanded certain things for a particular patient. That was what usually happened, which was how Sister had developed such respect for the social worker, in spite of her manner. Sister was not sure if that was a tactic for getting things done her way, the way Rosemary Ellis reacted under pressure, or if she was ill-at-ease on the ward for some reason. Sister suspected the latter.

Rosemary went straight to security. There she found Adam sitting hunched in a corner, head in hands, trying to make himself small and inconspicuous - not an easy task - with Robert Keating and a security guard watching him warily as if he was about to go berserk. 'I don't know why you're looking so worried,' Rosemary said. 'He's not going to hurt anyone.' She turned to Adam, and said, 'It's Adam, isn't it?' and held out her hand. Adam looked slowly up at her. For a long moment he just stared at her, then hesitantly shook it.

'You don't think I'm a monster, do you?'

'No. Of course I don't.'

'These people do. The police do. My family do. Sometimes I do.'

'That's because they don't know any better. You're special, Adam, and I'm going to make sure you realise it.'

'I wish I wasn't special. All I want to be is ordinary.'

'I'm going to take this boy home,' Rosemary announced, and would listen to no objections from Robert or the guard. 'He won't hurt me, and it's the best thing for him. Out of my way.'

She hoped Adam would be able to squeeze into her car. He didn't fit in the passenger seat, but if Rosemary put both front seats forward as far as possible, he could just about straddle the back seat, although he still had to hunker down with his head on his chest. Rosemary suspected he hadn't quite finished growing yet. He was going to get even bigger. 'I don't want to go home,' Adam announced, as she reached for the ignition key. 'I'd forgotten what outside was like, I don't want to go back into that room. I feel like a prisoner.'

'I bet you do. When I said 'home', I meant wherever you want to go. What about Peter Mayfield's? If you're interested in taking up the offer he made you, that is.'

'Yes, I am. You know, it was so easy, stuck in that room, to believe I'd always be there, shut away, that it was too hard to get out. Now that I've been out, I don't want to go back. Ever.'

From that day, Adam O'Donnell took up residence in Peter's mansion, and never looked back. Daisy O'Donnell stayed there too for a short while with her baby son, Luke - Maisie had been quite right - Jim had been furious when he'd learned the baby was black, and refused to let Daisy or her son into his house. Having a baby helped Daisy as it had her sister - she grew up rapidly. Her mother was a regular visitor, behind Jim's back, and taught Daisy all she needed to know about child care. Then, after a few months, Daisy got back together with Brady Stone, this time permanently. Rosemary was able to help move them to the top of the housing list.

Adam blossomed, and looked forward to visits from his mother and siblings. He enjoyed entertaining them, and showing them around the grounds. Most of all, Adam loved to sit outside, simply enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin and fresh air in his lungs. He could be found on the lawn most afternoons, his school books spread around him. He was catching up fast with the other kids his age, and was showing an aptitude for maths and science.

As Rosemary had suspected, Adam kept on growing. He grew taller, his hands and feet grew larger, and his skin became harder, and even more like granite. He grew stronger, too, and learned that with proper training, he could be quite formidable. Peter, Rosemary and Judith couldn't help but notice that, where they were concerned, at least, he'd gained confidence. He was bright, willing to learn, and had a wicked sense of humour, often at his own expense. He asked for a pet rock for Christmas, said his favourite music was rock music, and in particular, the Rolling Stones. He didn't even mind when Judith affectionately called him 'Boulder'.

One day, Peter Mayfield entertained a group of local head teachers at his home - he'd not been especially keen to do so, as they were a rather starchy bunch - but there were some important policy issues to discuss, and they'd agreed that they were all becoming stale sitting around the same table: the same old arguments going round and round, and no new ideas coming into play. A change of scene might help things along.

It was a pleasant day, so Peter invited them onto his patio for drinks, not realising that Adam was there, sunning himself. Before Peter could steer his guests back inside, Adam winked and took up a pose. Throughout the meeting, he stood perfectly still, until, just as the guests were leaving, one of them, a tartar of a woman, walked up to inspect the strange statue. 'An interesting piece of art, Peter,' she said.

Adam gave her a playful wink. She let out a most undignified shriek. 'Did you see that?'

'See what?' Peter replied, trying hard not to laugh.

'It winked at me!'

'Winked at you?' A pompous, obese gentleman boomed derisively. 'Really, Hortense, I think you've had too much sun. Or too much of Peter's sherry, har har!' Adam winked again. 'Good God! It does wink!'

'Nonsense, Edward, how could it? It's only a statue,' Peter replied, secretly relishing the joke. 'No sherry for you, next time, either, Ed!'

He saw them out, and returned, his sides shaking with laughter. 'You're wicked, you know that!' he said. Adam collapsed into hysterical giggles. They were still laughing when Rosemary arrived, and it was several minutes before they had stopped laughing sufficiently to explain the joke to her.