Ruby and Sam

It’s the second to last day of the school summer holidays and Sam, who is now thirteen but still looks ten, is spending the afternoon with his friend Ruby. Ruby also has autism, but only mildly compared to Sam. They’re running around the garden together, playing tag, watched over by Ruby’s grandmother Sue, and Liam and Jen, Sam’s mum and dad. I’m sitting out having my lunch when Liam comes over to say hello.

“We thought we’d descend on you en masse,” he says. “Do you know, it’s the end of the summer and this is the only time Sam’s spent with someone his own age?”

“Really?”

“He has ‘friends’ but they’re all people our age. They’re my friends or Jen’s. They’re grown-ups, they’re people who understand him, who get what he needs.

“Do you remember when me and you were young and we’d spend the summer holidays hanging around with our mates? We were bored but at least we were bored together.”

“Do they know each other from school?” I ask. I know Sam goes to a mainstream school but he doesn’t take part in mainstream classes anymore. The teachers couldn’t cope with him.

“Yeah, she’s his only friend there. They were in the same class together.”

“Were?”

“They split them apart because they’d wind each other up, not in a bad way, you know, just being silly. But they split them apart in the playground too.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s school rules, you know? It’s all about what the school can manage to deal with.”

“But they’re friends.”

“Right. And actually, most of the time, Ruby’s behaviour is better when she’s with kids who are younger than her. She acts more grown up because she looks out for them. I know Sam’s the same age as her but he doesn’t act it, he’s more like a little kid isn’t he?”

We watch how they are together. Ruby follows Sam’s lead and doesn’t get frustrated with him when he gets bored of doing one thing and wants to do something else. She just goes with the flow. Which in this instance involves following him in to the community centre so he can stomp up and down the stairs.

“I’d better go and keep an eye on them,” says Liam.

Inside the centre Sam is marching from one floor to another, the acoustics of the building amplifying the sound of the racket he’s making. There’s no one else in the centre, he’s not disturbing anyone, so I’m not bothered about the noise, but he’s getting over excited and even Ruby is having trouble keeping up with him. Liam tries to get Sam to calm down and Sam apologises but keeps at it. Sometimes he can’t help himself. Eventually we manage to steer him back out into the garden.

It’s the end of the afternoon and there are no groups using the building, so I lock the doors from the outside. Sam bangs on the glass in frustration a few times but soon gives up. Ruby persuades him to go and sit on the garden wall with her. Jen and Sue sit close by, talking together but at the same time listening in to the children’s conversation. Jen looks worried and takes Liam aside.

“They’re thinking of ways to get back into the centre,” she tells him a terse whisper.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so stressed,” he says to her. “You’re all tensed up.”

“I am,” she says. Her nerves are shredded. You can see it. They’ve had six weeks of keeping Sam occupied from morning to night. They take it in shifts sitting with him by the side of the road watching the wheels on the cars turning; sitting in the shopping centre watching people going up and down the escalator; sitting on the seafront watching games of football on the lawns; sitting on busses with him; sitting on trains; doing whatever keeps Sam happy. This is their life. It’s impossible to imagine Sam being left alone for even a second.

Liam tries to persuade Sam and Ruby to play badminton, he’s brought a couple of rackets and a shuttlecock with him, but Sam refuses so Ruby does too and Liam gets me to play with him instead. Neither of us has played badminton in years but we’ve soon got a good volley going between us.

“Hey,” says Liam, drawing my attention to Sam who has fallen silent as he sits transfixed, watching the fluorescent yellow shuttlecock arcing through the air between us. “It’s done the trick. Who knew badminton was the answer?”

We’re on the side of the garden beside the main road. It’s just after five o’clock so the street is starting to get busy with traffic and people heading home after work. More than a few wave hello to Sam as they pass.

“Sam knows everybody!” Ruby says, amazed.

“I’m going to have to go and open the doors,” I tell Liam, noticing people starting to turn up for the first of the evening’s yoga and pilates classes.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll try and keep him out but I don’t know how successful I’ll be.”

As soon as Sam sees me opening the centre again he makes a dash for the doors and he’s straight back inside. Badminton abandoned, Liam chases after him and manages to cut in ahead to block the stairs while I put myself infront of the lift.

“Come on, geez,” Liam tells Sam, “let’s play outside.”

“N-no,” Sam says and squeezes himself into a tight corner by the storeroom so he can’t be pried out while Ruby, who has followed us inside, keeps reaching past me to press the lift call button.

“Just to see the doors open,” she says, mesmerised. While Sam’s hypnotic attention grabber is watching objects turning slowly in the air, Ruby apparently has a thing for lift doors opening and closing.

People coming in for yoga and pilates classes look completely perplexed by what’s going on.

“Just up the stairs,” I tell them, casually directing them to their classes as if stand-offs in the lobby between me and autistic children were a common occurence at the centre. Which they kind of are.

Sue and Jen have also now got involved with trying to get Ruby and Sam back into the garden. Finding themselves outnumbered, Ruby and Sam finally give up the fight and allow themselves to be steered outside once more. Liam tells Sam that they’re going to have to go home if Sam doesn’t start behaving himself.

“No,” Sam says, defiantly sitting down on the garden wall and crossing his arms. “I’m s-s-staying.”

Sue tactfully suggests to Ruby that perhaps they should be getting home too.

“I’m not leaving Sam,” Ruby says, adamantly. She’s not being difficult. She just doesn’t want to leave him and especially doesn’t want to leave him upset. You can see how much she enjoys his company and cares about him. Which makes it all the more heartbreaking to think that when they return to school next week, they’ll be kept apart from one another.

Hayley, one of our volunteers, arrives to take over from me in the office until closing. I fill her in on what’s been going on.

“Oh, I know Sam,” she says. Of course she does. Everbody knows Sam.

“P-Paul!” he says, pushing his way into the office. “K-kickabout?”

“Paul’s got to go home,” Jen says behind him after apologising to us for letting him out of her sight for a moment. Sam ignores her.

“P-pleeease?” Sam begs. “Pleeease?”

“Alright,” I tell him. “Ten kicks. Ok? Just ten. Then I’ve got to go home.”

I finish handing over to Hayley and then I join Liam, Jen, Sam, Sue and Ruby out on the lawn.

“He wouldn’t let you get away, eh?” says Liam, passing me the ball.

“H-High kicks!” Sam says, sitting down cross-legged in his usual spot. I kick the ball up into the air and Sam tilts his head back, watching it slowly turn. When it lands Ruby runs to retrieve it and we all kick it around us in a circle with Jen counting the passes between us down from ten. On my last turn I give the ball one final high kick and Liam catches it in his arms on the return.

“Now Paul has to go,” Jen tells Sam.

“Bye Paul!” Sam waves cheerfully.

“Bye, Sam. See you soon,” I tell him. “But not too soon,” I joke to Liam.

“Yeah, right,” he laughs. “Gotcha.”

Jen runs over and gives me a hug.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Good luck,” I tell her, knowing full well it’s not luck that enables Jen and Liam to deal with the situation I’m leaving them with. It’s got nothing to do with luck at all.