Truth Attempted: The London Book Fair

The London Book Fair, 2008 - a chance to meet the experts of the Writing Industry. A chance to get published, for all your dreams to come true!

I have been suspended for 3 weeks now.

I arrive at Maria's house in Newquay at 11 o'clock. I am carrying my letter from work: a full disciplinary hearing has been set up for the day I return.

I'm a bad man. I abused a kid in care - I swore at a 17 year old with Tourettes. Gross misconduct, violation of protocols, undue emotion. I should have withdrawn - left the kid in the supermarket after he'd threatened to smash my face in. But I didn't: I stood up to him: I called his bluff - I told him to hit me. The bluff worked - the kid backed down. But I got reported.

I'm a bad man. A carer with no boundaries. A loose canon with a heart of fire.

I steal Maria's toast as she gets me insured on her car. I then wait patiently in the hallway as she layers herself like a packhorse ready for the journey. Jumper, scarf, hat, jewellery, another scarf, a wrap, gloves, sunglasses, waterbottle, coat...

"We're going to Southampton first." she mumbles through the folds of her clothes, "It's my sister in law's birthday."

Kids...lots of kids... ginger kids. I remember the last time, when I became a surrogate climbing frame and punchbag. We'll be staying the night as well. I picture the questions: Are you and Auntie Maria getting married? Why did you steal our Auntie? Why aren't you working anymore? Why does Auntie Maria have bruises?

I'm a bad man.

We set off on the road. I talk about my suspension, my reasons for what I did. I remember when I left the army, when I walked out of the Marriott, when I wrote an irrelevant dissertation for my BA. For all my love of structures and frameworks, I have a history of rebellion.

"It's okay," I remark cheerfully to Maria, "We could be published by the end of this weekend. We won't have to worry about jobs ever again."

Maria looks at me through the thin slit between her scarf, hat and coat... the same look I got from the Head of Children's Services... one of total incomprehension and digust.

I'm a bad man.

At 9pm that evening, I am sitting in a nicely furnished lounge. A young girl is screaming at me.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

She was the casualty. I was set upon by seven children, four of them ginger, so I had to break through the blockade and throw the little clingy bastards onto a sofa. The girl in question was at the bottom of the pile. She is hurt and she is angry...

"I HATE YOUUUUUU!"

I'm a bad man.

I smile at Maria and try to continue conversation as a vengefulness of Hamlet-esque proportions brews on the other side of the room.

Later on, Beth, the daughter of Maria's sister-in-law, saunters in, her hyper-intelligent eyes fixing me.

I've always liked Beth. She's a smart one.

"I hate you." she says calmly.

"Oh... right...."

"But that could change."

"...okay..."

"You have to make me like you."

I fidget in my seat.

"You have to pick me up and hold me upside down."

"Right..."

I pick her up and hold her upside down.

"Now you have to walk over to the sofa and put me there. But you have to walk smoothly - no bouncy movements."

I follow her instructions precisely, and promptly slam her head against the cabinet near the sofa. She falls out of my grip and crashes into the fireplace.

"... sorry." I say.

She stands up and looks at me, "Carry on." she says quietly.

I pick her up and toss her onto the sofa.

"Okay, I like you now."

I'm a good man.