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No! Not my little hero

Fun-loving James thought he was indestructable just like Spider-Man...


Published by: Jean Jollands and Kevin Donald
Published on: 28 February 2013

A s he dangled from the top of the living room door frame, my heart was in my mouth. Dressed in a Spider-Man mask and pyjama bottoms, he'd shimmied to the top and was clinging on for dear life.
‘Come on, Spider-Man,' I scolded, gently. ‘I think you'd better come down now...'
Suddenly, my three-year-old son James launched himself off the door frame and landed in a heap on the carpet. ‘Wow, Mummy!' he grinned, proudly. ‘Did you see my
big jump?'
Spider-Man was James' nickname because he was obsessed with the action hero. He was constantly jumping off furniture or shimmying up doors. My stomach would be in knots as he fearlessly flung himself around, but somehow he always landed safe and sound.
Though small for his age, James had double the energy of most kids. But I wouldn't have had him any other way.
Ever since me and his daddy Mark, 37, had split the year before, it was just the two of us at home. We did everything together - walks in the park, trips to the local play centre, snuggles on the sofa watching back-to-back cartoons. James was the only man I needed.
‘Where's your little shadow then?' my mate Julie Ford, 31, winked when we popped round to hers later that afternoon.
‘Here I am!' James whooped, jumping out from behind me to give her a hug.
Julie lived just around the corner, and we dropped in every day. She'd been at school with my older sister Kelly and had even babysat me as a kid.
‘So have you sorted out his birthday yet?' Julie asked once James was off playing with her kids. ‘I certainly have,' I smiled. ‘I can't wait to see his face when he opens his presents.'
James was turning four the following week and we were having a big bash on the green in the middle of our estate for him and another local girl. For weeks, he'd been talking about it non-stop.
‘Will there be lots of sweets?' he asked the next day as I walked him to nursery.
‘Loads,' I laughed. ‘More than even you could possibly eat.'
On the morning of his birthday, James shook me awake and dragged me downstairs to the pile of parcels waiting on the sofa.
‘Wow!' he gasped, pulling off paper to reveal a Transformers toy and then a Spider-Man figure. ‘Thanks Mummy!' he said, hugging me.
When I collected him from nursery that afternoon, he was still on a high.
‘I got to wear the birthday hat today and everyone sang Happy Birthday,' he beamed. ‘Is it time for my party now?'
‘Nearly,' I smiled. As we rounded the corner on to the green, James hopped up and down excitedly when he clocked the huge bouncy castle and dashed off to join his little pals.
Later, when he blew out the candle on his Spider-Man cake, I'd never seen him happier.
‘That was brill, Mummy,' he declared that night as I tucked him into bed.
In the early hours, I heard familiar tiny footsteps enter my bedroom and felt James snuggle up against me. He came into my room most nights and I never had the heart to send him back to his own bed. ‘Love you, Mummy,' he murmured. ‘Love you, too,' I whispered.
A few weeks after his birthday, it was a lovely evening so I popped over to the green with James.
Soon, I was chatting to one of my mates while he joined the other kids chasing each other.
Suddenly, I heard the tinkling tune of the ice-cream van and I knew what was coming next. James always asked for the same thing - a blue bubble-gum flavoured ice-lolly and a bag of jelly sweets.
Then I spotted one of my friends giving James and another little boy some money. He dashed off towards the van, which was parked just across the road, and I kept my eye on his bright yellow t-shirt, making sure he got across safely.
I turned back to my friend... then, seconds later, I heard a sickening thud. My stomach lurched as instinct told me something wasn't right. I started running across the green towards the road.
That's when I saw him. His yellow Transformers t-shirt was unmistakable.
James was lying in the road behind a car, blood seeping from his head.
‘James! James!' someone screamed. Then I realised it was me. I felt as if I was very far away.
My legs failed me, turning to trembling jelly as I dropped to the ground in shock.
And now someone was coming out of the passenger seat of the car that had knocked over my boy... Julie?
After that, it felt like everything happened very quickly - someone's hands helping me up, paramedics arriving, a policeman leading me to his car and speeding to hospital behind the ambulance. ‘He's going to be okay,' I chanted as I was ushered into A&E. I'd already called my parents and Mark, James' daddy. They looked absolutely shell-shocked.
A nurse led me to a room where doctors were working on James. I gasped in horror as they frantically pumped his chest.
But then I heard a solitary voice.
‘Shall we agree the time of death?' a doctor said, quietly.
It can't be... Not my boy.
One of the doctors turned to me.
‘I'm sorry, we just couldn't save him,' he said, gently.
James looked as if he was sleeping.
I cuddled him, trying to pretend it was a normal night at home with him snuggled up beside me.
But he was never coming back. ‘I love you,' I wept, kissing his cheek. ‘I'll always love you.'
Suddenly, it felt like I couldn't breathe and I fled into Mum's arms. ‘Why him?' I asked her.
But of course, there were no answers, only sorrow.
Mum and Dad insisted on me staying with them and drove me home to get some things. As we passed the green, I thought of James blowing out the candle on his cake just three weeks earlier. Now it was the scene of his death. I felt like I was in some terrible nightmare.
The next day, there was a knock on Mum's door.
‘It's Julie,' Mum said, showing her in. As soon as she saw me, Julie burst into tears. ‘I'm so sorry,' she wept. I listened numbly as she explained what had happened.
Julie had asked her cousin Jane Ford, 24, who also lived on our estate, to drive her to the local shop. ‘Jane reversed out of the drive and set off slowly,' Julie explained. ‘Suddenly, we hit something. Then I saw a child.'
She was trembling as she relived the horror.
‘As soon as I saw that little yellow t-shirt, I knew it was James,' she wept.
Despite my grief, I couldn't feel a shred of anger towards Julie. She was one of
my best mates and I knew this was eating her up, too. Besides, she hadn't even been the one driving. ‘You're not to blame,' I whispered.
But I couldn't help feeling angry with Jane. It was just impossible for me not to.
I needed to see James again, and flanked by my sister Kelly and Mark, I visited the hospital mortuary. His little body was covered in a sheet and his skin felt so, so cold. I fled in tears.
I'm not sure how me and Mark made it through the funeral. We buried our boy with a picture of all three of us together. ‘Mummy and Daddy will always be with you,' I promised.
Then, I felt a hand on my arm. Julie. Her heartbroken eyes
said it all. She was sharing my terrible grief. We had a headstone made with a Spider-Man figure engraved on it. I thought of how happy it would have made him. Weeks later, I insisted on returning home. ‘I can't stay here forever,' I told Mum. But the house where I'd been so happy was now deathly quiet.
Memories were everywhere - from James' little slippers to the pile of trucks at the end of his bed. At night, I cuddled his favourite teddy bear just like I used to cuddle James.
My family and Julie looked in on me every day and tried to coax me out. ‘We're having a memorial event on bonfire
night in honour of James,' she told me. ‘Why don't you come along?'
‘Okay,' I said, weakly. But when the evening came around a week later, I couldn't bear to leave the house. Instead, I just sat remembering bonfire night the year before. James had sat on my shoulders as we watched the fireworks from Mum's garden. He'd been so happy and excited.
It was three months since his death and I was drowning in grief. ‘I can't go on like this, son,' I wept, my body trembling. ‘I just need to be with you.'
The pain was unbearable and, all of a sudden, I knew exactly how to make it stop...
As if in a trance, my feet took me to my bedroom where
I stared up at the metal chain hanging from the middle of the ceiling. I'd once had a punchbag hanging from it.
But I'd taken it down months before and now only the chain remained - hanging down like a noose. I fetched a chair and, moments later, I was standing on it, twisting the chain around my neck.
Knowing exactly what I was doing, I felt strangely calm. All I cared about was escaping the agony. I kicked the chair away from underneath me. Then everything went black.
The next thing I knew, I was squinting under bright lights, my neck burning with pain. I realised I was in hospital.
So you're not ready to see me yet, James, I thought.
Soon, Mum and Dad were by my side. ‘Oh, love,' Mum wept. ‘We thought we'd lost you, too. Thank god Julie found you.'
‘Julie?' I croaked.
I listened as Mum explained that Julie had come looking for me when I didn't turn up at the bonfire event.
‘Your door was unlocked so she searched the house and found you unconscious,' Mum said, her voice shaking. ‘She couldn't loosen the chain so she fetched her dad and he gave you the kiss of life.' The woman who'd been in the car that had killed my son had saved my life. It seemed like such a strange coincidence. But as I took it in, it started to make sense and I felt like it was meant to be.
There was nothing Julie could have done to save James. But perhaps she was meant to save me instead.
‘I was so terrified when I saw you there,' Julie whispered at my bedside later that day. ‘I don't want to lose you.'
‘How can I ever thank you?' I said. ‘I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you.' I knew then that our friendship could never be broken.
Weeks later, an inquest at Teesside coroner's court recorded a verdict of accidental death. The court heard there was nothing Jane could have done to avoid hitting James, who died of internal and head injuries.
Now, she has moved away, which is a relief as I'd find it very difficult to see her. But me and Julie are closer than ever. My mum, dad and sisters Kelly and Julie have been my rock and with their support, I'm trying to stay strong and carry on with my life the best I can.
I miss my boy desperately. He was my soulmate and nothing will ever fill the hole in my heart. But I believe he was watching over me that day and that he wants me to carry on. I'll do my best to make him proud, the way he made me proud every single day.
Emma Oram, 26, Portrack, Stockton-on-Tees