Too late for Toby
A little boy of seven drenched to the skin sat
Cross-legged peeping through a slit in an old
Weather-beaten back garden gate. The gate at
The end of a long path doubled as the terminus
Of the number 81 bus. Not a real bus mark you,
More a little blue wheelbarrow in which sat a
Variety of passengers two old teddies, three tin
Soldiers, a broken humming top and a play worn
Jack-in-the-box.
Tragedy had struck early in this little boys life
With the loss of his mother and father. Lost in
A moment of madness when a car being persued
By the police collided with their people carrier
In a head-on collision from which no one could
Hope to escape alive. The courts gave custody
Of an only child to the closest relative they could
Find, a couple of distant ‘aunties’ eagar to get their
Hands, not so much on the child, as on the money
That came with him.
Toby was crying, he'd been beaten with a hard
Wooden coat hanger again and he didn't know
Why. Tears ran down his cheeks as he peered
Through the gap in the ill-fitting gate hoping his
Imaginary friend Tony might hear him and whisk
Him off to a happier place. His arms stung and
His back hurt he told Tony in a whisper. He knew
There were eyes and ears everywhere; angry eyes
And ears that liked nothing better than to punish
Little boys.
Toby sat his eyes fixed to the gap until night fell
When he knew the house would be empty and
He could make his way to bed in safety without
Being struck. His aunties liked their drink and
That's where they spent most nights drinking in
A pub with two of his many uncles. A few scraps
From the fridge served as a meal and a half
Glass of milk was the most he ever took at one
Time. Hard to see that anything has been taken
From a big bottle at half a glass.
He was still wet from being dunked in the bath
Earlier. He couldn't think what he'd done but
Somehow he seemed to annoy his aunties and
Uncles and even when he hid out of sight they
Beat him when he got hungry and came to the
Table for food. Whatever he did he couldn't
Please anyone and he didn't know who to turn
To or how to make things better. His bedroom a
Freezing cell and his his bed no more than a
Mattress and a course woven blanket.
The scraps weren't very nice and the cold milk
Made him shiver. As the night wore on he heard
His aunties and uncles down stairs laughing and
Joking. They banged on his bedroom door as they
Made their way to noisy beds - 'Better be asleep,
Toby'.
Little teeth chattered and his little body shook
With pain. Dried blood on the inside fibres of his
Jumper tore at his flesh when he coughed, but
He couldn't get undressed it was too cold for that.
Presently, Toby fell asleep. A deep sleep, a very
Different kind of sleep. A sleep from which all
Pain and suffering is expunged and joy of joys
The sun was out and there was Tony waiting for
Him by the back gate, which for some strange
Reason was now a happy yellow and shining like
A new pin. With smiles all round they hugged each
Other and off they went to play with a little blue
Wheelbarrow, two teddies, three tin soldiers,
A humming top and a Jack-in-the-box.
Next morning the house was filled with police
And welfare officials. On lunchtime TV the local
Politician waded in with his penn’orth and as
Ever, 'Lessons would be learn't and suffering like
This would never again be allowed to visit a child’.
‘Aunties and uncles would be locked up for a long
Time to come’. Help had finally arrived. Sadly, it
Was too late for Toby.
© Joseph G Dawson
19/11/2018 and earlier
