What Happened To The Baxter Boys - 5. Chapter 5

Charlie woke full of excitement. It was going to be a busy day, and he needed to be prepared. Unsure of what he should wear for his interview, he dressed in the same clothes he had worn the previous day. He needed coffee and a chat with Stacy before he showered and changed to get ready for his interview.

“Cuppa?” Stacy asked as Charlie entered the kitchen.

“Can I have a coffee, please?”

Stacy raised an eyebrow as he looked at Charlie. “Are you sure that's wise? You look wired enough as it is. Maybe a relaxing cup of tea would be better.”

“I'm not that bad, am I?” Charlie looked worried.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes. Here drink the tea and calm down.” Stacy slid a mug of tea across the table to Charlie.

“I'm not sure what to wear for the interview you arranged. What do you suggest? I want to give a good impression. I don't want to let you down.” Charlie's excitement amused Stacy.

“I know the man that owns the garage. It's where I take the Capri for the MOT, servicing and repairs. I suggest jeans and an old top. I would not put it past him to get you under the bonnet of a car while you're there.” Stacy did not let on that the owner was his brother. He did not want Charlie to feel more nervous, or obligated to take a job that he did not like. Charlie would find out when the time was right. “Don't forget to call the college. Your records could prove useful.”

Charlie finished his cup of tea and had a light breakfast of cereal. It was all his jittery stomach could take. Charlie then showered and got ready for his interview before calling the college. After a short wait that felt longer, he was connected to his former course advisor.

Jason was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when Charlie returned, grinning from ear to ear. “Oo ook hafy.”

“I wish you wouldn't talk when you're eating!” Stacy admonished. His disgusted look said as much as his words.

Jason swallowed before speaking again. “Sorry Pop.” He turned back to Charlie. “You look happy. What did your college say?”

Charlie was beaming. “They still have all of my records, including my certificates. My old advisor said he can email me copies of them and post the originals to me when I have a permanent address. I need access to a printer and computer to download and print the copies.”

“Get back on the phone now! You have an address. Get them posted here.” Stacy was adamant and sounded slightly annoyed.

“And you can use my computer and printer,” Jason added. “So, what did they say?”

“I'll tell you in a bit. Are you sure, Stacy? You've done so much already, and I don't know your address anyway.”

“I’m sure, and do not argue.” Stacy opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out an old council tax bill. “There, the address is on this. Now call them back.”

Feeling like he was floating, Charlie went and called his advisor again. He returned full of excitement. “They are posting them this afternoon, special delivery. They should arrive tomorrow morning.”

“Good, now what did they say?” Jason impatiently asked.

“I've already qualified as a vehicle technician. With everything that has happened in the last eighteen months, I'd forgotten the part that I was doing was an add-on, learning accident repair. I can redo that anytime at another college or a garage if I can find a job.”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Stacy queried.

“What?”

“You have an interview, and at this rate, you will be late.” Stacy reminded.

Charlie jumped up. “Shit! Oh, sorry.”

“Forgiven. Jason, get your computer fired up and turn on your printer.” Stacy was in take-charge mode. “Charlie, stop panicking. You can borrow my car to go to the interview. If you take Jason to direct you, then you will have plenty of time. If you don't fancy driving the Capri, you can take Max's old Focus. He still hasn't sold it since buying the BMW.”

“Would it be okay if I use the Focus? I think I'd be too nervous driving your Capri.” Charlie was surprised by the amount of trust being placed in him.

“I'll dig out the keys for you and the documents, just in case. Now go get your certificates printed.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Charlie parked in the cramped yard of Chorlton Service Centre. Jason wished him luck as Charlie picked up a folder from the back seat. It contained copies of his certificates and a written reference from his advisor. Nervously, Charlie got out of the car and entered the customer reception area.

The man behind the counter looked up as Charlie closed the door behind him. “Good morning. What can we do for you?”

“Erm, um, my name is Charlie, Charlie Baxter. I'm here to see Spencer. I have an appointment with him.”

"I'll go get him for you," said the man, smiling. Charlie couldn't help but feel like he had seen him before. "Don't worry, he's a good guy." With that, the man, who looked to be in his fifties, stood up and made his way to the garage workshop.

A few minutes later another man, dressed in blue overalls and with a mess of black hair came in from the workshop. Charlie thought he also looked very familiar. He soon let that thought drop as the man stretched out a grubby, greasy hand, offering a handshake. Being polite, Charlie ignored the oil covering the hand and accepted the gesture.

“I'm Spencer. You must be the lad Stacy spoke about. Come through to the office, let's have a chat.”

For the next thirty minutes, Charlie gave Spencer a brief run-through of his life and details of his previous apprenticeship. Spencer asked detailed questions which Charlie answered knowledgeably and honestly. Charlie also asked intelligent questions, which Spencer answered.

Spencer was nodding as he stood. “Come on, I'll show you the workshop.”

Charlie was given a tour of the workshop. He was shown the pit, the hydraulic ramps and lifts, and the facilities provided for staff. As they crossed the workshop to return to the office, Spencer stopped next to a Vauxhall Astra.

“This one is in for an interim service and oil change. Can you change the oil for me, please.?” Charlie looked stunned. “Don't worry about your clothes. I'll get you some overalls.”

While Charlie waited, he looked under the bonnet and down to the oil filter. It looked clean. When he stepped back, he saw the full oil pan under the engine. It looked as if the oil change had been done or at least partially completed. Picking up one of the readily available rags in one hand, he withdrew the dipstick with the other. After wiping the dipstick clean, he replaced it, and after about thirty seconds, he withdrew it again. He noticed that there was no oil in the engine.

Spencer returned with a set of overalls and handed them to Charlie. “There you go, these should fit.”

“Umm, it looks like someone has started the job. The oil filter is clean, so it's probably new. There's no oil in the engine so, I just need to check that the oil plug has been refitted properly and do that, if it needs doing, then top up with oil.”

Spencer smiled. “Well spotted. That's what I was doing when you arrived, and the oil plug is properly refitted. What oil would you recommend?”

Charlie thought for a moment. “If I remember right, about four and a half litres of 5w40 synthetic should do it. Most car manufacturers recommend specific brands, but if it's a good quality oil like Castrol or Mobil, it won't make any difference.”

Spencer was happy as he put his hand on Charlie's shoulder. He was impressed by the young man’s initiative. “Let's go back to the office and talk about starting pay.” Charlie didn't budge, he was rooted to the spot. “You do want a job, don't you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Good, office now. We need to set your start date and pay.” Spencer was confident and happy with his decision to hire the young man.

Stacy was talking on the phone when Charlie and Jason arrived home. “That's great news, Michael. As soon as they get home we will come and get you.” Stacy heard the front door slam shut. “Speak of the devil. I think this is them now. Bye, see you soon.”

Stacy heard some muttering in the hallway followed by hurried footsteps on the stairs as Jason entered the lounge.

“Hiya Hun, where's Charlie? Is he okay?”

“He needed to get cleaned up. He's a bit of a mess. As for okay or not, well… he's something.”

“What? What do you mean? How did the interview go?” Stacy was concerned with Jason’s evasive reply.

“I'm not sure. You will have to ask him when he comes down in a bit.” Jason sat down on the couch; his deadpan expression hid his thoughts as he suppressed his inner giggles.

After scrubbing the oil off his hands, Charlie came downstairs. Charlie entered the room dejectedly, his head hanging low and his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He took a seat beside Jason and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands and letting out a heavy sigh.

“Charlie, is everything okay? What did Spencer say?” Stacy was very concerned.

Charlie's hitched, muffled voice came through his fingers as he spoke. “He said. He said I wasn't what he was expecting.” Stacy looked on, shocked as Charlie continued. “He said I need to do more training.”

“What?” Stacy could not believe what he was hearing.

“He said, I've got to finish the accident repair course and get my qualification, and I have to get my license to do MOTs.”

“Well, I suppose he knows what he's talking about.” Stacy was disappointed, but put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder to comfort him.

“Until then, he can only pay me £7.50 an hour, but I get a raise when I finish the extra training.” Charlie looked up and laughed as Jason laughed, too.

“You...you...pair of buggers. You really had me going. I'll get you both for this and make sure you regret it.” Seeing the humour of their prank, Stacy was relieved and happy, though he gave both a rap on the back of their heads.

“Ouch! Sorry Pop, we couldn't resist. Uncle Spencer said he should speak to Dad about the Focus too. What do you think?”

“Wait, did you say Uncle Spencer?” Jason nodded. Charlie glared at Stacy. “You never said. Did you fix it for me to get a job?”

“No. I fixed it for you to get an interview. You got you the job. Spencer may be my brother, but he would never give anyone a job on my say-so. I don't know the difference between a spark plug and a carburettor, so there is no way he would listen to me, even though I can beat his ass in a fight.” Stacy looked smug with his last comment.

“You can beat his...but he's nearly as big as Max.” Charlie was surprised.

“Yes, Spencer dropped out of training to play rugby, but I stuck it out and achieved Godan rank, or fifth-degree black belt, in Aiki Ryu Ju-jutsu. As a licensed teacher I am a Menkyo Kaiden, to use the correct terminology. My belt is actually red and black on one side and solid black on the other. I taught Max. He has achieved Sandan rank or third-degree black belt. So do not fuck with me.” Stacy smiled in a friendly way while trying, unsuccessfully, to give Charlie 'the evil eye'.

“Wow. Michael and I only achieved fifth Kyu, green belt with blue stripe, before we had to drop out.”

“I've never done it,” Jason added.

“You should,” Charlie encouraged.

“Tell you what, when Michael has recovered enough, I'll train you. You too, Jason, if you want. It's good exercise. But you must all promise you will only use it in self-defence and say nothing to anyone. It's serious business.”

Charlie stood straight. He positioned his right fist against the palm of his straight left hand in front of his waist and bowed. “Yes, Sensei. I will agree to any and all of your terms.”

Jason was in awe of Charlie's actions.

Stacy was touched by Charlie's gesture. He stood and placed his hand on Charlie's shoulder. “I am your friend, not your Sensei. Before I can start any training with you, I may need to re-establish my training certificate and we will need to find somewhere suitable to train. I haven't properly practised since adopting Jason. Now before I completely forget, we need to get to the hospital. Michael is waiting for us to pick him up.”

Charlie took the car keys out of his pocket to hand them to Stacy who refused to take them. “Hang on to them for now. We're going in the Focus. You can drive there, and I'll drive us home.”

Michael woke up after a fitful sleep and looked across the ward to the empty bed where Harry had been. He felt a bit downcast, but hopeful that Harry was recovering. He very much wanted to see him later in the day.

When Donna came to do the early morning checks, Michael asked if he could speak with the Ward Sister. Donna finished the checks and said she would pass on the request.

During breakfast, Sister Judy Evans went to see her favourite patient. “Good morning, Michael. Donna tells me that you want to talk to me.”

“I was wondering if you know how Mr Willets is this morning?”

“Yes, I do. I thought you would ask that. He's had a settled night since being transferred and is recovering nicely. He should be back on his feet in a day or two. Now, how are you feeling?” Approaching the end of her eventful and long shift, Judy hid how tired she felt.

“I'm feeling a lot better, thanks. I'm worried about Gramps, I mean Mr Willets. Is there any chance I can see him later? He doesn't have any family to visit him,” Michael said hopefully.

“They usually only allow family in ICU, but I will see what I can do. If you are allowed, and I am not saying you will be, you will have to wear a mask as you are still recovering from pneumonia. I'll speak to the doctor for you.” Judy had her fingers crossed as she returned to the ward office leaving Michael to finish his breakfast.

Judy entered the office to find Gary talking with Doctor Bowers who had tended to Harry during the night. Their conversation appeared to be professional and very amiable.

“Good morning Dr Bowers and Dr Evans. It is good to see you both.” Judy maintained professionalism with her son in front of other hospital staff.

“Dr Bowers, I was hoping to see you. I would like to ask something on behalf of another patient. It is regarding Mr Willets, your patient from last night.” Judy was apprehensive after hearing some disturbing rumours about the locum who was filling in on the cardiology team.

“What can I help you with Sister?”

“You may or may not know that Mr Willets has no family. Therefore he has no visitors. He has formed a friendship with one of our young patients and the friendship appears to be good for his morale. Michael wants to know if he could be allowed to visit him in ICU. That will also depend on you and Michael’s own doctor agreeing to it.” Judy's fingers were crossed so tight behind her back that they were almost white.

“Which patient would that be?” inquired Dr Bowers. Gary's interest was also piqued on hearing Michael's name.

“Michael Baxter, the young man in the bed opposite of Mr Willets,” she answered.

Dr Bowers's expression immediately darkened. “No, I don't think so. I've seen who his visitors are. They are a bunch of queers. No doubt he is a faggot too. I do not want him anywhere near my patient. I do not want him at risk of contracting anything that young pervert has. If that faggot wants a Sugar Daddy, he can go to hell! If you are telling me that Willets is a pervert too, then maybe I should have let him go last night. I won’t waste my time resuscitating scum like him.”

Gary's anger increased with every spoken comment. He was about to rip into Dr Bowers and give him a tongue-lashing when Judy signalled him to back off. Gary stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound of the door slamming attracted the attention of everyone on the ward.

Gary went to the nursing station. “Donna, can you urgently page Dr Grayson, the cardiology consultant, please. It's a matter of life and death. I'll be cooling off in the corridor.”

Donna had overheard the conversation in the office and immediately sent out the page. She was shocked by both Dr Bower’s diatribe and the rage in Dr Evan’s voice. Gary was always professional and caring, rarely showing more than irritation when he got angry. The rage was justified, but extremely rare for Gary. Donna had never seen him this outraged.

In the office, Judy was livid. “I remind you that you are a doctor, and are bound by the Hippocratic oath to treat all patients equally. While you are in this hospital that is exactly what you will do, or I will see to it that you are struck off. I am reporting you to hospital management and your supervising consultant. NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE AND OFF MY WARD. WITH AN ATTITUDE LIKE THAT, I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU NEAR ANY OF MY PATIENTS!”

Judy was serious in her threat to have Dr Bowers 'struck off'. She intended to report him to The General Medical Council. Any complaint could mean immediate suspension of a doctor's license to practice medicine. Serious complaints, if upheld after investigation, could mean permanent withdrawal of a doctor's license. This would mean they would be 'struck off' the register of doctors and unable to work as a doctor or practice medicine in the UK.

The daytime staff were reporting for duty as Dr Bowers was being escorted from the ward by a red-faced and angry Ward Sister.

Some of the patients and all of the staff wondered what the drama was about. The staff knew to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. At the staff handover meeting, held behind closed doors, they learned of the heated events. The Charge Nurse taking over from Judy was told it would be his decision if Dr Bowers was allowed on the ward during his shift. Judy was clear that she would not allow him access during her shift. She was waiting to speak to Dr Grayson before seeing the hospital management to make an official complaint.

Michael was unaware of the drama that had occurred in the ward office, or of the part he had, unknowingly, played in it. But he was aware of a change in the atmosphere on the ward. The hushed conversations between staff, and the occasional glances, made Michael feel uncomfortable as the morning progressed. Making himself as comfortable as possible on the chair by his bed, he did the only thing he could do and waited patiently for his doctor.

It was mid-morning when a calmer Gary returned to the ward to see his patients. Just before lunch, Gary approached Michael.

“Good morning, Michael. I'm sorry that you have been kept waiting. I had a couple of meetings that I needed to attend.” Gary apologized.

“That's okay, but what's been going on? The staff are whispering among themselves, and I keep getting funny looks from them. I am ready to get out of here.”

“Don't worry about them, I'm sure it's nothing. You will be pleased to know you can get out of here. I'm guessing you're not registered with a local doctor, are you?”

Professionalism meant that Gary had to be careful who he spoke to about Dr Bowers and the earlier events. Due to the complaint raised by Sister Judy Evans, and supporting statements, Dr Bowers’ locum contract had been suspended by the hospital and the agency that employed him. This would be until an investigation was completed, which could take many months.

“No. I'm not. I know what Max and Stacy have said, but I don't really have anywhere to call home.”

“Trust me, you do have a home and things will work out. I've written a prescription for two weeks of antibiotics which you must take until you finish the course. I don't know how long it will take for the tablets to come up from the pharmacy, but you will need to wait for them. Do you want to call Stacy to come and pick you up, or do you want me to call him?” Gary was exercising his best bedside manner.

“Can you call him? I don't know his number, and I don't have a phone anyway.”

Gary took out his mobile phone and scrolled through his contacts until he got to Stacy's number. Handing it to Michael, he said. “Here you call Stacy. I'll be back in a few minutes. I need to speak to the Charge Nurse.”

Michael was relieved when he made the call and learned that Charlie, Jason, and Stacy would be arriving soon to pick him up. After hanging up, he drew the curtains around the bed and changed into the clothes that Charlie had brought over the day before. It felt amazing to put on new underwear and clean clothes, the first ones he had worn in nearly twelve months. After packing his pyjamas and slippers, Michael opened the curtains and sat back in the chair beside the bed, dozing off.

Fifteen minutes later, Gary woke Michael to collect his phone and give Michael a sealed sterile mask. "This is for you," Gary said, placing the mask on the bed. "You will need it later when you go to see Mr. Willets. His consultant has agreed to waive the family-only rule and let you see him. He thinks it would be a good idea and cheer him up.”

“Thank you, Dr Evans.”

“You're about to be discharged, so please, call me Gary.”

“Okay, thank you, Gary. When can I see Gramps?”

“Oh, Gramps is it?” Gary chortled.

“Yeah, well, he said I'm not to call him Mr Willets. It's too formal and makes him feel old. He told me to call him Harry, but I can't do that. It feels disrespectful somehow. So he told me to figure out something else, and ‘Gramps’ just feels right. So when am I allowed to see him?”

“Well, it looks like your lift has arrived. Your meds should be here any moment. Maybe it would be best if you leave it till after lunch. That gives you a chance to talk with everyone first.” Gary picked up the mask and waved it. “Don't forget this. They will not let you in without it.”

“Visiting time in ICU is flexible, so any time after lunch.” Gary looked up at the approaching group. “Hi Stacy, lads. Michael is ready to go as soon as his meds arrive.”

“I've got them. The nurse gave them to me on the way in.” Charlie held up a small box of tablets.

“What happened to the old guy? Pop brought some soup in for him.” Jason pointed to the empty bed.

While Gary listened, Michael told them about his conversation with Harry, then explained what happened through the night and told them he intended to visit him before leaving the hospital.

Charlie listened knowing how determined his brother could be. With Jason's help, Charlie convinced Gary and Stacy that an immediate visit would be better. Their reasoning? Homemade broccoli and stilton soup and a freshly baked baguette stuffed with ham would be tastier than a hospital lunch. After their convincing argument, which left Gary smiling as he left the room, Stacy set off for the ICU with 'his' boys in tow.

When they arrived at the ICU, they were asked to wait as police were with Harry. Michael was concerned for his friend and ignored the nurse's request. Putting on the mask that Gary gave him, he went to Harry's bedside.

“Hey, Gramps, how are you feeling? Is everything alright?” Michael held Harry's hand as he spoke.

Harry raised his eyebrows a little and tried to smile, but he could not hide the sadness in his eyes. “I'm feeling a bit better than last night thank you, Michael. This officer was sent to tell me that someone tried to break into my house last night. It seems they damaged the lock on my front door, but I can't do anything right now being stuck in here.”

The police officer turned to Michael. “Your Grandfather's house isn't very secure at the moment. The neighbours who reported it have been watching the house, but it needs some attention.”

“Thank you, officer I'll do what I can.” Michael squeezed Harry's hand. “I'll be back in a sec. I'm just going to get Charlie. He'll help me.”

Michael left Harry's bedside to speak to Charlie. When Charlie and the others heard what had happened, Charlie immediately agreed to help. Michael returned to Harry's bedside with Charlie, Jason and Stacy following him in as the police officer left.

As they approached, Harry spoke with humour in his voice. “So, it looks like I've gained a grandson? What was it you called me? Gramps?”

“Sorry.” Michael squeaked.

“Nope. Got it all wrong.” Jason was not going to be left out of a bit of fun. “You have not gained 'A' grandson. Charlie is Michael's older brother, so that makes two.” Harry looked on, raising an eyebrow. “And, as I claimed them for my older Bro's, you get me thrown in as well.”

Stacy looked upwards in silent prayer.

“You're a cheeky bugger, aren't you?” Harry queried. “You must be Jason.”

“Yep, that's me! When Danny hears about this, he might want to be in on this deal too, sooo, that's three and could be four grandsons. Wha'd'ya think Gramps?” Jason tried his innocent look, a big cheesy grin as he fluttered his eyelashes.

“What do I think? I'm hoping I don't regret this. But, it's a deal.” Harry laughed until it caused him to cough, trying to catch his breath. The ruckus brought a nurse to check on Harry.

After the nurse left, lunch was brought to the ward for the patients. Harry lifted the cover from the plate and was sorely disappointed. What was intended as his lunch looked lost on the large plate. On the plate was the smallest block of cheese that he had ever seen. It was smaller than his thumb! There was also a small portion of limp salad that would have barely filled a saucer, thinly sliced bread which was starting to dry out, no butter for the bread and a small sachet of mayonnaise. It was a most unappetising meal, and Harry was shaking his head in disgust.

Stacy pushed the meal to one side, produced an insulated bowl, set it down before removing the lid and presented it to Harry. “Would you prefer this, Mr Willets? It's homemade soup.”

Harry took in the aroma, and his mouth watered. “It smells delicious. What flavour soup is it?”

“It's broccoli and stilton. Pop makes the best soup ever. Where's the rest of Gramp’s food Pop?” Jason was his usual excitable self.

“Give me a chance.” Stacy unwrapped the ham-filled baguette and passed it to Harry.

“I've never had this before. It smells great.” Harry swallowed a spoonful of the soup. “And it tastes fantastic, thank you. You have made this old man feel very happy. But why?”

Michael glanced at his brother and friends, then looked Harry in the eye. “Because you're my, sorry, our friend Gramps and you are not an old man.”

Harry ate his soup and baguette with misty eyes. This was the happiest he had felt for a long time. “Thank you, Stacy, thank you, boys. Stacy, there is something we need to clear up. I am not Mr Willets. It's Harry or Gramps. Take your pick.”

“Okay.” Stacy thought for a moment. “Gramps is the boy's domain, so I'll take Harry.”

Harry and Stacy happily chatted away, getting to know each other. When Harry spoke about his dead son, it was with pride and sadness. He was proud of his son. Michael had secured a university placement at Manchester Metropolitan University to qualify as a Social Worker. He was sad because before he had a chance to start his studies, he collapsed while at work and later died of a previously unknown heart condition. The owner of Churchills Bar had called him after calling an ambulance for Michael. The more Stacy heard, the more intently he listened.

As soon as Harry mentioned Churchills, Stacy's eyes widened. “Did Michael have bleached blonde hair?”

“Yes, someone called, Daisy, I think, used to do it for him.”

“Did, did he go by the name of...Mikey?” Stacy's voice croaked as he said the name.

“Yes, that's what his mother called him. Stacey? Are you alright?” Harry grew concerned, Stacy had gone pale, and tears were flowing.

“Blonde Mikey, that's what we used to call him in Churchills. He was a great kid, everybody loved him, he was everyone's friend. I know he loved his parents. He was looking forward to attending MMU. He said he'd left it long enough before enrolling. I used to bleach his hair about every six weeks.”

“But you're Stacy, not Daisy.”

Jason had been listening to the conversation and spoke up. “Gramps, meet Miss Daisy Chain, Drag Artiste Extraordinaire.” Jason gestured towards his Pop.

The two men hugged with tears in their eyes. “I was working elsewhere that night. I had a gig in Birmingham. The rest of the bar staff at Chruchills told me what they knew, but Mark, the owner, wouldn't give us any of Mikey's contact details. He would only say that Mikey wasn't coming back. Mark was an asshole and sold up when all of the staff walked out. He had to hire agency staff until he sold up. Nobody on Canal Street would work for him, even the agency staff hated him. When we tried contacting the hospital, the hospital staff wouldn't tell us either. The new owner of Churchills, John, is a good guy. But he didn't have any contact details of previous staff, Mark had destroyed them.”

“I'm sorry, Stacy, we never thought about his friends. His mother and me were too absorbed in our own grief to think of anyone else. When I get out of here, I'll take you to where he is buried. You can let his friends know, then if they want to, they can visit him too.”

Stacy wiped away the tears and blew his nose. “Thank you, Harry, I'd like that and so would Mikey’s friends. Pausing, Stacy changed the subject, “Now we need to get your house sorted, so what are we doing?”

Thirty minutes later, Stacy and 'his' boys left armed with Harry's address and keys. They were on a mission. They were going to secure Harry's home and make sure it was looked after until he returned home.

The nurses watched over Harry as he relaxed and dozed off. He had sadly lost his biological family. He had yet to discover how many friends and new family he now had.