She shows him to Millicent who has appeared in the hallway and is asking about the boy. They are both the same age but she is told not to touch him yet - he is clearly far too nervous for that. Millicent therefore encourages him to come forward with words that stroke. The boy first flattens himself as tightly as he can in the wedge between the brown-painted skirting-board and the linoleum, turning his head sideways and upwards and howling. He will not be moved from the hallway. Millicent who had been squatting on her haunches and offering him her finger, thinks him better able to conquer his fear if left alone; and with this in mind she straightens herself and walks into the kitchen leaving the boy half way down the hall. Much later, when she comes back, he is not there. After searching the house in a desultory way - opening each door in turn, poking her head into each room then closing each door again - she meets with her own eyes the eyes of the boy staring at her from beneath the sideboard, and she utters an involuntary cry.
During the succeeding few days Millicent tries to entice the boy out with pretend kissing noises, all the while stretching her hand out before her, palm upwards. She quickly discovers that he will break cover only when she is out of the room and the house completely silent. When she returns from school he is found behind pieces of furniture in various rooms. He seems to find particular comfort from a vantage point on top of a wardrobe in one of the quieter, smaller bedrooms.
The boy, during these early weeks of his adoption, sleeps a lot. Millicent sometimes eases the door open just a couple of inches and stands erect, one hand on the door-knob, waiting for the crack to widen enough for her to see the wardrobe-top. She never can catch him unawares. There! Once again! As the gap is eased slowly open, his eyes meet hers, his head is raised and alert. The girl chuckles and wags her finger playfully at him.
Of all the family members, it is Millicent's father whom the boy is most loath to approach unbidden. Not until Millicent has simultaneously clicked her tongue and snapped her fingers several times and then (her eye carefully on the boy's responses) repeatedly slapped her thighs with both palms, can she entice him to come forward and approach her father - a pantomime which soon tires the man, as well as any visitors to the household who express slight annoyance and turn their gaze elsewhere.
After a time, Millicent's small interest in the boy seems to bear a little fruit, for the boy will slide towards her on his flank, hesitant, pressing his shoulder to the floor, craning his neck upwards and watching her askance. Before he will cover the last few inches however, she must look away and hold out her hand for attention there. He grows more familiar. After a time he is in the habit, especially during the cold winter evenings, of watching for Millicent's extended arm, then almost before she has finished patting her lap, of jumping up and curling around her waist. The girl sometimes teases him and waits until he is in the furthest corner of the room, then beats her lap furiously, laughing at the ceiling, as the boy scuttles across the carpet fearful lest her lap becomes unwelcome as soon as the patting stops.
Of these adoption days, the boy enjoys most those when he is allowed to cuddle up close to the girl. Or not quite the most (he thinks) for perhaps the best times of day, and certainly more frequent, are his mealtimes. All the time the stew pot is simmering on the stove, the boy sits not far away, slavering. He utters occasional irrepressible whimpers (he knows he shouldn't) when Millicent's mother lifts from the pot, a measure of stew in her wooden spoon and lets it drop to test the thickness. He trembles with anticipation.
Shortly after the boy seems to have settled into these new surroundings, he suffers an odd shock. Left alone in the house for an afternoon, he is sitting in his room when the front window shatters. Instinctively he brings his knees up to his chin and covers his head. He screams until the glass stops tinkling. When he looks from beneath his arm, his gaze meets the frightened eyes of a gull. The two sit in opposite corners of the room, the boy hugging his knees and looking askance, the bird breathing quickly for its body is lacerated with straight dark red cuts. As the hours press by, its eyes gradually glaze over. By the time Millicent arrives home and discovers the boy, the bird is quite dead. She picks it up by the feet and drops it out of the window into the garden.
Sometimes when family visitors call, the boy chooses to ignore them. Greetings go unacknowledged. He sits in silent rudeness, turning cards. Then when the visitors begin to forget about his presence, he grins at them quite openly. They ask him to explain himself - "Have you thought of something amusing?" they ask. "Please. Do tell us. We would like to think of something amusing ourselves. Tell us before you forget it." The boy grins more broadly than ever. The visitors smile. He stretches his arms upwards and yawns cavernously before resuming his grin. And all the while Millicent giggles at their discomfort. Her mother at first talks away the unsoftened effrontery of the boy. "Come now," says she "don't you be so melodramatic. Don't you be so quick to jump to conclusions about the boy. He has been tired recently. He might even be off his food sooner or later, I wouldn't be surprised." Later she might utter on these occasions, half-stifled cries, leap from her chair and haul the visitors by the arm, one after the other, from their own chairs and push them through the front door. That done, she might shout at the boy (in a prying forceless voice) shout at his turned back until he himself cries "Ha! Ha!" and runs to his room.
Millicent is sometimes visited by her girlfriends. Whenever the girls ring the doorbell, the boy races upstairs and peers round the edge of the banisters while Millicent frees the latch. It's never long however before these girls can expect to see him come through the living-room door, grinning and seeking attention. They sometimes stroke his head. They tell him to sing for them. The girls then loudly applaud and wanting to encourage the successes of a new-found friend, eagerly urge him on to make them laugh as best he can.
Sprawled about the furniture, these girls one day congratulate Millicent who had split from her boyfriend shortly before the boy's arrival, on her good fortune in having such a good-looking love interest on her very own doorstep so to speak. However, with his quick eyes darting from one face to another, the boy can see through these sugary compliments. He knows. They should not be mistaken about that. Of course, they all find him slightly dull. The girls, ignoring his gaze, lean towards Millicent curled up and laughing, nudge her arm and ask her about . . . well, you know . . . about how good he is in the (silently mouthed) bedroom? Surely she must have? He watches the behaviour of the conclave of young women, watches their grins, and grins when they grin. When they catch sight of him listening to them, he of course laughs far louder than the peal of laughter they send up.
Shortly after they have gone, Millicent makes a play of singing merrily to herself and taking a shower. After which she lies naked on her bed, reading a magazine, and for the first time since the boy's arrival in the house, leaves her door wide open. After a while she is forced to call him upstairs. She feels his hands take hold of her ankles while she lies back in bed, but does not look down. He has entered her room as quietly as he can. She lays the magazine by her side, sits up, takes the boy by the armpits, then lies back again positioning him flat on top of her. The boy whimpers only once. She obligingly holds him there, in place, until he has done, lifts him out, looks down to see that he has finished, then retakes her magazine which she holds up in the air to read. The boy, still trembling, slides sideways off her flank.
For days after, he rushes home from school (quicker than her slow meanderings) and watches at her window for her return. He lifts the corner of the curtain and lowers it again repeatedly and when she comes into view, he starts forward scarcely able to keep his haunches still.
Then one day he finds that his key won't fit in the front door any longer. He's locked out. Sometimes he can see between the curtains, but usually not. Millicent's parents go on about their separate ways - he in his office, she tending the house. Millicent herself gambols about the sofa with her girlfriends, all of them tickling one another and yelping. For three days the boy hides in the front hedge of the house, watching from the shadows of the twigs. Then he is seen no more.
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