Task 3

A bed time story: The story of a lost child
As I ate my breakfast I had a curious feeling that the day before would be a decisive day in my life... Something was going to change the way I looked at the world.
As I ran off to go to work, I realised that my old, monotonous neighbourhood had a different atmosphere that morning.
The detective in me was screaming that something wasn't right and that I had to figure out what it was.
On the other hand, a part of me said “Quit being paranoid! You're imagining things...you really should leave your work at the office!”. This internal monologue tranquillised me for a while. But then, all of a sudden, I heard a very loud cry, a cry of despair... I could tell it was a mother's cry because it was primal and urgent.
Therefore, I stopped the car and went to see what was going on. Mrs. Boyle, who was a devoted and careful nanny, was screaming in the middle of the street, with dark rings under her eyes:”They took my baby again! Once again I couldn't stop them! I want to die!”.
I assumed she was very disturbed because everybody knew that Muriel Boyle didn't have children of her own. I approached her gently and talked to her in a
soft, calm voice: “Muriel, what happened? Who took Lucy Sherman? Did you inform her parents?”.
She replied in a strange, robot-like, voice: “Rachel... they took Rachel...my baby!”.
At that point, I had millions of questions to ask... Who was Rachel? Who had taken her? Where was Lucy Sherman, the toddler Muriel was supposed to be taking care of?
I thought it would be better if I lead Muriel into her house, made her some tea and tried to reason with her.
“Now, Muriel, Before we call the police I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Who took Rachel?”.
The woman held her tea cup and replied in a shaky voice: “Two men...I did... I did not see their faces... They were tall and strong...I was here in the kitchen, they broke in and took Rachel...I couldn't protect her...I'm so sorry baby!”.
I walked around the house trying to make some sense out of what she had just told me. As I went into the living room in order to call the police,I noticed it was full of old pictures...pictures of a baby that held a striking resemblance to Lucy. “Rachel...”, I thought.
I called the police, Mrs. Sherman and the office and I told everyone what was going on. Mrs. Sherman was perplexed: “Lucy is at home...she's sick, we didn't drop her off at Mrs. Boyle's this morning...”. I felt kind of relieved after knowing this.
I quickly returned to the kitchen and sat next to Muriel, who was still completely in shock, with her eyes staring at the back door, her hands in her lap.
She seemed to be completely unaware of what was around her, but still I tried to make her talk. “Talk to me about Rachel, Muriel.”. “I didn't protect her...my husband left me because I was an unfit mother...She came back...I was so happy...my baby...but now she's gone again! Why?”. This last part was shouted and then she started sobbing.
I understood what was going on and explained the situation to the police officer that had arrived.
I couldn't even imagine the pain that Mrs. Boyle was going through...losing a child and living that emotion over and over again...Who would say that the cheerful Mrs. Boyle was indeed a tortured soul?
I left her house when the medical team arrived to make a psychiatric evaluation.
Today, I got a promotion at work for having dealt with the case with “remarkable sensibility” but I refused it. I was not going to get promoted for having been a decent human being.
Besides, I decided that I was a bit tired of dealing with the dark side of life everyday and I quit.
Now, I'm going to be a nanny. It's my way of honouring Mrs. Boyle...