On Loving Josiah by Olivia Fane

Josiah.
    ‘You see, “Joe” is an ordinary sort of name.’
    ‘No it isn’t,’ said Josiah.
    ‘It’s more common than “Jozziah”,’ said Sylvia, gently.
    ‘My name is Josiah.’
    ‘Yes, dear,’ said Sylvia, and looked at her husband for moral support.
    ‘You call yourself how you will,’ said George. ‘We were just trying to help.’
    ‘Yes, that’s all we were trying to do,’ said his wife, patting the boy on his shoulder.

    Tracy arrived to drive Josiah to school. She had wanted to tell him he’d be going home that afternoon, but when she and June Briggs had gone to the Nelsons’ house early that morning they’d found the place empty and curiously, unlocked. So they’d taken the liberty of walking around. Yesterday’s toast was still on the table: interrupted, half-eaten.
    Tracy had sunk down onto a kitchen chair. ‘They did know, didn’t they, that we’d only taken a temporary measure? We did make that clear, didn’t we?’
    ‘You know what?’ June had said, smiling, ‘That kid’s finally going to get a life.’
    But that wasn’t how it seemed to Tracy when she saw Josiah. He kept staring at her, one moment furious, the next, desperate. And all the while Mrs Leatherpot kept chattering on, as happily as if she’d been given a puppy.
    ‘So how are you settling in, then?’ Tracy asked Josiah kindly (and thinking, did I really say ‘settling in?’ God help him.) And because she couldn’t bear to hear his answer, she quickly changed the subject. ‘So what did you think of your first day at school, then?’
    ‘School! School! Oh he had such a wondrous day, didn’t he, George? There was a slight leg-pulling at first I’m afraid, well that’s what the form-teacher observed, about his name, and George and I thought he might be better off to call himself “Joe” just to fit in, but apart from that it was glory all the way! He’s already at the top of his class, he is! He adds up faster than anyone, and takes away too! And he reads as well as a fish!’
    ‘Oh God,’ said Tracy. Josiah ran out of the room, and Tracy followed him.
    ‘I don’t know what’s got into him,’ said Mrs Leatherpot, ‘he’s been as good as gold, he honestly has.’
    For a good few minutes the boy was completely lost: the three of them scoured the house and not a trace. Then from an upstairs window Tracy noticed a small, crouching figure at the bottom of the garden. She stopped the couple from following her, and as she walked up to him she noticed he was eating earth.
    ‘Oh God!’ she sighed, ‘I can’t take this.’
    His back was towards her.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
    Josiah turned round: pale face, morose brown eyes and mud around his mouth.
    ‘What have you been eating?’ asked Tracy, gently.
    ‘Minerals,’ said Josiah. ‘Potassium, calcium, and a little zinc.’
    ‘Josiah!’ exclaimed Tracy, with feeling, ‘It seems you barely need to go to school! You’re a very, very bright little boy! And you’ll go home soon! I’ll see to it personally, I promise!’
    ‘Do you like children?’ asked Josiah.
    ‘Oh yes, I love children! I wouldn’t be in this line of work if I didn’t love children!’
    Then Tracy kissed him on his forehead, she just couldn’t help herself.
    ‘Because I don’t,’ said Josiah. ‘I don’t like children at all.’

    They never thought to phone the ports or the airports: after all, why would they run away? June Briggs said she’d eat her hat if they found Eve and Gibson together. They’d probably find Eve with Michael Fothering, who might finally claim his paternity. But when the police drew a blank with Fothering, Briggs got in contact with Eve’s mother: no, Mrs de Selincourt hadn’t seen her daughter for sevenyears, but she cared sufficiently about her to suggest places she might have gone. She even gave them the address of Gilbert Fitzpatrick’s cottage, and for weeks afterwards would ring to see whether Eve had turned up. In the end Eve became