Dear William

Chapter Thirteen: Never To Be

When Hannah was six months old we moved to a bigger house to rent in the centre of the village.

It was an old detached house dating back to the early 1900's. I later found out that one of Gran's aunt's had lived in it in the 1920's and 30's.

Right from the start I knew Hannah would be fine.

As William was my first baby I hadn't been so clued up on the stages of development.

Hannah was much more placid. She didn't scream when I took her walks in her pram. She was so much more alert and focused too.

I would take her shopping to the city on the bus.

Buses now had spaces for prams which made it a whole lot easier than it had been when William was little.

We would head to the big Next store in the shopping centre. I was like a kid in a sweet shop. There were so many pretty clothes to choose from for little girls.

I would carefully co-ordinate each little outfit. A top and tights to match the pinafore, little pram shoes, denim dresses, stripy tights and an array of pink and lilac.

In the Summer she had a rail of beautiful floral dresses and frilly ankle socks.

Hannah's hair was slow to grow, but at ten months old I bought some soft little bobbles and she had tiny half inch bunches! Now, twelve years later she has hair right down below her waist.

Early Learning Centre was another of my favourite shops. I bought for Hannah a soft doll and a Fisher Price princess castle.

William had a huge rubbery spider with long dangly legs. It was a freaky looking thing but William loved to dangle it. He would focus his full attention on the spider as he dangled the array of legs while making a loud humming noise.

It is a Saturday afternoon in Autumn 2004.

Hannah has just had her first Birthday.

William is five years old.

I am setting out Hannah's plastic dolls teaset, one of her Birthday presents. Her teddies and dolls are seated in a semi circle.

I watch in amazement as Hannah takes a small plastic cup and puts it on her doll's mouth as though giving her a drink.

Sadly William has never been able to understand imaginative play.

This is something new to me. It is possibly something that most mum's would take for granted, as I am sure I would have done too if William had not had Autism.

This simple act is nothing short of a miracle.

I am so caught up in the moment, that I realise with a start that William has scaled the stair gate and gone upstairs. Just a minute ago he had been right here with me in the play room.

Hannah is engrossed with her teaset and dolls.

I race upstairs thinking he will be in his bedroom. His room is empty. Our bedroom is empty, as is Hannah's room. He must be in the bathroom.

My stomach suddenly lurches as I realise I have left the top window open just a fraction to air the room.

"William?", I call anxiously as I race into the bathroom.

I am now faced with the most terrifying moment of my life.

William is leaning right out of the bathroom window which is a good fifteen foot drop with sheer concrete below.