They Thought I Was Dead: Sandy’s Story

70 Autumn 2011

I left the lecture theatre, to my surprise reflecting on some of what I’d heard this afternoon that really resonated with me. I was looking forward to discussing some of the things I’d heard with Hans-Jürgen over dinner tonight. I hoped he’d be less distracted than he seemed before.

When I arrived back at the suite, Bruno came over and hugged my legs. He was hunched almost furtively, as if hiding behind me, and looking unusually self-conscious. I was about to ask him why he was being so clingy when I heard the doorbell and he ran off to his room.

Julia Schmitt stood there and she was not looking a happy bunny. ‘May I come in, please?’ she asked. ‘I need to speak to you.’

We sat down opposite each other on the two facing sofas in the living room, the glass coffee table between us. ‘Is there some problem?’ I asked, expecting her to say something about Hans-Jürgen and me having dinner tonight.

Instead she said, ‘I’m afraid the behaviour of your son is not acceptable.’

‘Bruno?’ I replied and instantly realized I must have sounded like an idiot. How many sons did I have here?

‘He has been very disruptive in kindergarten today. He has behaved, I am informed, very contrary to the philosophy of the International Association of Free Spirits.’

‘In what way?’ I asked lamely.

‘For a start, he took a chocolate bar from another child — a girl. These are free from the canteen, but this was the last one and she was very upset. But worse than this is he has taken the watch of another boy.’

‘What?’

‘Another boy in his class was showing his friends the new digital watch he got for his birthday. Your son asked to see it and this boy gave it to him. Bruno then put it on his own wrist and refused to return it.’

‘Refused?’

‘Yes.’

I was shocked, but... I had a horrible feeling she was telling me the truth. ‘What happened then?’

‘The teacher asked him to hand it back. Bruno had a tantrum, standing there screaming and crying and saying it was his watch now.’

God. I felt a cold, hollow feeling deep inside me. ‘Where — where is it now?’

‘Still on your son’s wrist,’ she said calmly, but with the demeanour more of a schoolteacher than the mentor she had been to me — us — yesterday.

‘I will get it right away,’ I said. Jumping up, I stormed through into Bruno’s room. And sure enough I saw a purple, plastic strap on his wrist and a shouty watch. That was what he had been trying to hide from me.

I grabbed his left wrist. ‘Where did you get this watch from?’ I asked.

‘Hey, Mama, let go,’ he protested. ‘A boy in my class gave it to me.’

‘That’s not what I heard.’

He burst — or rather exploded — into tears and began stamping his foot on the floor. ‘He did, Mama! He did, he gave it to me!’

‘He gave it to you to look at, Bruno, not to keep.’

‘He gave it to me, he gave it to me, he gave it to me,’ he repeated over and over, his face red, tears streaming down. ‘He gave it to me, he did, I promise!’

I suddenly found myself wondering how Roy would have coped with him in this situation.

I looked up and saw Julia Schmitt, with her stern face and stern hair, looking at me and I could see in her expression she was saying, silently, What are you going to do about this? About your little monster?

I did, after several more embarrassing minutes of tantrum in front of a stranger, finally get the watch back off him and I handed it to Julia Schmitt.

She didn’t thank me. Instead she said, ‘I think your son needs to see a specialist doctor. He is not right to be here. You should not have brought him here, he is too disruptive.’

Then she was gone.

I thought we’d hit rock bottom with Nicos. Clearly we hadn’t.