Lorraine paused, and took a sip of her cold tea. For a moment it was unclear whether she would respond at all, but eventually she did.
‘Shannon,’ she asked, ‘do you believe the world is a beautiful place?’
Shannon paused.
‘No,’ she answered, honestly.
‘People get to know me and assume I’m the same. The truth is, I do believe the world is beautiful. And I thank God every day for what we do have.’
Shannon looked at her, confused.
‘Yes,’ Lorraine continued, ‘I’m a believer. I’m not a shout-it-from-the-rooftops believer like Raj was, although I used to be. These days though, it’s difficult for me to talk about religious faith when I see the world’s ugliness more than anything else.’
‘But you just said—’
‘That the world is beautiful. And it is. But I don’t see that beauty the way I used to.’
Shannon looked around the attic, and imagined the remains of Great Britain beyond it. When she thought about it, Lorraine’s words were unsurprising.
‘I was a teaching assistant once,’ Lorraine said, ‘before my twenty years as a nurse. Worked with eleven-year-olds, mostly. Towards the end, I worked one-to-one with a boy called Joey Shetland. He had the kind of childhood that involved social workers. And the police, once in a while. He didn’t have the best start to life, and worst of all he knew that he hadn’t. Even as a child, he hated himself.’
Shannon nodded. She understood.
‘But there was an extra layer of self-loathing, backed up by his parents. His mum told him he’d grow up to be useless like his dad, and his dad told him he’d grow up to be evil like his mum. So obediently, he believed them.’
Lorraine paused, either for dramatic effect or to prepare herself for the rest of the story. Shannon suspected the latter.
‘I did some great things for Joey. And yes, I was happy about it. I was even proud. But halfway through Year Six he started talking about killing himself. Imagine it, Shannon, wanting death at the age of eleven.’
I know, right? I was at least fourteen.
‘It wasn’t truly death that he wanted. He just wanted the bad thoughts gone from his head. Long story short, I helped him deal with his issues. He reached the end of the year in one piece, and when he finished juniors his family moved away.’
Shannon breathed a sigh of relief, but Lorraine interrupted her mid-smile.
‘Within three months Joey was dead. A week after his twelfth birthday. I won’t tell you how.’
Lorraine’s breathing pattern changed, as if fighting back tears.
‘He wrote… wrote two suicide notes. One to his family, telling them everything they had done wrong to him. The other was for me, of all people. My head teacher gave me the day off for his funeral, and that’s where Joey’s mother passed me the letter. It was still sealed, so she hadn’t peeked. Come to think about it, that was probably the only decent decision I remember her making. I read it at home… he didn’t even try to explain why. He only wrote two sentences. “I’m so sorry Mrs Shepherd. I just couldn’t do it”.’
A bunch of Shannon’s own memories resurfaced in her mind. Hearing Joey’s story whilst dealing with her own background was no easy task.
‘It taught me the hardest lesson I’ve ever had to learn,’ Lorraine continued. ‘You can move Heaven and Earth to help people, but some things are beyond your power. I couldn’t save Joey because I couldn’t change his decisions. The only way to help people is if they let you. And not everyone will.’
Lorraine let out a cough, and took a moment to steady her breathing. Shannon had no idea what to say, if anything at all, but it seemed like the hardest part of the story was over.
‘I couldn’t go back to the classroom after that,’ Lorraine continued. ‘Then I figured if I was in the lifesaving industry, I might as well go the whole hog and train as a nurse. A twelve-year-old’s death dragged me into a world where people died around me all the time, however hard I tried. The work was difficult, my husband and daughter had to suffer my moods when I came home at night, but I did a lot of good for a lot of people. So in my head, it was worth it.’
By the end of Lorraine’s monologue, most of Shannon’s words had vanished from her mind. Only one sentence remained, and she spoke it.
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because God may have created a beautiful world, but we’ve made it bloody ugly. The way we treat each other, the things we do to ourselves, the way we neglect the sick and needy – human actions make everything ugly. So to be honest, I don’t have high standards for happiness anymore. I’m not here to make the world a beautiful place, Shannon. It’s already beautiful when we stop hurting ourselves and each other. I’m here to reduce this world’s ugliness, not increase its beauty.’
Shannon had no words in response. Lorraine picked up her mug and drank the rest of her tea all in one.
‘And by allowing McCormick to go to New London,’ she finished, ‘I’m afraid that I might have added to the world’s ugliness.’
Chapter 15
Jack stood in the hallway of his new house – Spitfire’s Rise Mark 2, unless he could come up with a better name – and decided that, all things considered, it would be a suitable building. It didn’t have the fancy wallpaper or the nice furniture or the cleanliness that came from a year of being looked after, but there was a grandfather clock that looked nice and plenty of unexpired food in the cupboards.
It had taken them until midnight to choose an acceptable village, but by one in the morning Jack had already found a house there that would suit the Underdogs’ needs. He hadn’t expected success that quickly, or even by the end of the night.
Well,that was weird and unplanned, he thought as he nodded to himself in satisfaction. Just like me, I guess.
As predicted, Jack had done most of the work himself. Thomas had plenty of ideas but none that were practical, Gracie had shied away from contributing at all, and whereas Simon was not to be underestimated, he had seemed content to follow the group that night. Or more specifically, to follow Jack.
Jack marched back down the stairs and reopened the front door to the trio awaiting him in the front garden, their rucksacks and boxes of belongings rested on the driveway. Shannon, Lorraine and Mark would have more at comms, but even then it was a pitiful amount to have brought from home.
I just called Spitfire’s Rise ‘home’. Even now.
‘Guys,’ he said, ‘I think I just found us a new house.’
‘Are the beds comfy?’ asked Gracie.
‘Wasn’t testing them, oddly enough. Come on, let’s start unpacking.’
Gracie, Thomas and Simon in turn passed him, and walked into the building they were supposed to accept as their new hideout. But most of Jack’s brain was telling him to think of this as just another stop-off on the way to a mission, like Lemsford had been, and that after a night here they would be heading home tomorrow.
In fact, how the hell are we going to keep this place a secret like we did with Spitfire’s Rise ? I’ve already seen the name of this village. Even if I take down all the signs myself before anyone else sees them, the moment I get captured…