Читать книгу A Boy Without Hope - Casey Watson, Casey Watson - Страница 10

‘How on earth …?’ Libby Moran said, getting up and joining Tyler at the front window. She was still rummaging in her bag, seemingly unable to accept the evidence of her own eyes.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ I said, pulling Tyler away. If it was attention Miller was after, then perhaps best if we didn’t give him any.

‘Did you leave them in the ignition?’ Mike asked, unable to hide his astonishment.

She shook her head. ‘No, it’s a wireless ignition. ‘But I put them in my bag … God, he must have got them out again while I was getting his stuff from the back seat.’ She clapped a hand to her forehead. ‘God, I’m so stupid!’

Miller was still gurning at us, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against the car window, so I suggested we all come away. He clearly wanted us out there so he could taunt us a little further. ‘Why don’t we leave him to it and get started on the paperwork?’

‘Good idea,’ she said, visibly trying to regain a sense of order. She took her seat again. I felt a bit sorry for her.

‘Have you been his social worker for a long time?’ I asked as we joined her.

She pulled out a bunch of papers from the large canvas bag. ‘I’m afraid not.’ She sounded apologetic, as if that was a personal failing. ‘In fact, I don’t know Miller very well at all. His previous social worker left two months ago – she’s gone on maternity leave – and she’d only been with him for a year. I’ve only had two visits since I got assigned to him, to be honest. I don’t think he likes me very much,’ she finished.

Looking at her doleful expression, I wondered if the feeling might be mutual. ‘Well, I imagine he’s gone through social workers as regularly as he’s gone through carers, so I expect he finds it difficult to build up meaningful relationships with any of them. I wouldn’t take it personally,’ I added reassuringly. ‘It just is what it is.’

‘I suppose,’ she said, gesturing towards the paperwork she’d got out. ‘And I’m afraid I’ve not had time to get everything together at such short notice, but what I do have is his last care plan, his last risk assessment and a minuscule paragraph about his education, such as it is. I should be able to pull some more bits together for you over the next few days, but in the meantime I’m afraid what I’ve got on him is all a bit sketchy.’

Plus the small matter of us not actually having the ‘him’ in question inside the house yet. ‘That’s absolutely fine,’ I said. ‘We’ll just take him as we find him. On which note, do you think it might be worth Mike going out to try and entice him in?’

Libby looked at Mike with such hope in her eyes that I wondered what sort of stand-offs they’d already had. Forget forging a ‘relationship’. I suspected she’d yet to even exert basic control. ‘It could be worth a shot,’ she said. ‘Thank you. If you don’t mind, that is.’

‘Of course not,’ Mike said. ‘But let’s give it another five minutes first, eh? I don’t want to antagonise him on his first day with us if I don’t have to. The kid might just decide to join us on his own accord.’

He was probably right. I leaned in to pick up the risk assessment document. ‘Well, we may as well use the time to take a look through some of this,’ I said, scanning the main points.

It was a document that I was very familiar with, though at first glance they can seem very confusing. They are all different, obviously, because every child in care is, but, structurally, they were all pretty much the same: a grid of rows and columns, each of which represents an area of risk that a child might either pose or be exposed to. It covers areas such as risk of absconding, of self-harming, of exploitation and so on. There are many different areas, too, so it can be quite a long list, and for each there is a column that goes on to explain the potential risk, and how it might play out in reality. This is then followed by a third column that explains how the risk is currently being managed – what is being done, and by whom, in order to minimise that risk. Then, finally, there’s a column that is all about suggestions; ideas about what further actions could be taken.

Miller’s risk assessment document was detailed, to say the least, and I noticed immediately that there was something about monitoring his medication, and checking that he actually swallowed his nightly tablets as he apparently had a tendency not to take them. I recognised them too. They were a brand of melatonin. ‘So he’s on medication to help him sleep then?’ I asked Libby.

‘Oops – glad you spotted that,’ she said, delving once again into her capacious bag, and pulling out a plastic bag with a tablet box inside it. ‘Don’t want to land you with another load of problems, do I? Though there’s only a few days’ supply in there, I’m afraid. You’ll need to get in touch with your GP to get some more organised. He takes the maximum adult dose.’ She consulted her notes. ‘Three per night, 7 p.m.’

Before I had the chance to point out that it was already a lot later than that, Tyler, who’d been keeping a discreet eye-out anyway, called us once again to the window.

‘Well, that’s … interesting,’ he said, as we all went to join him. ‘Is it a boy? Is it a T-Rex? You decide …’, he added, laughing.

It appeared to be the latter. Some sort of dinosaur, at any rate. Miller, who was dark-haired, and slighter than I’d expected, was currently striding up and down on the grass outside the window, with his neck craned forward, his shoulders hunched, and his arms close to his chest with his hands bent and hooked to look like claws. ‘What the hell is that about?’ Tyler observed, transfixed.

‘Language!’ I reminded him, trying not to smile myself. It was really quite an impressive impersonation. ‘Perhaps time to go out and rein him in?’ I said to Mike.

‘Literally, by the look of it,’ he said, chuckling and shaking his head. ‘I’ll just go and dig out my patented dinosaur net, shall I?’

Libby, however, looked far from amused. And something else struck me – was she actually afraid of this child? ‘I think you’d better,’ she said. ‘Before he gets even worse. The thing is with Miller is that he’s all about control. Likes to think he’s in charge. Pulling everyone’s strings, you know? Definitely something to bear in mind.’

‘Oh, we will,’ I said, watching him strut back and forth, completely focused on his performance.

Or perhaps she was just embarrassed about having left her car keys in the car, with Miller – clearly a challenging child – still in there. Whatever the reason, she was certainly uncomfortable. ‘Would you like a top-up?’ I asked, nodding towards her empty mug.

‘No thank you,’ she said. ‘I need to rush off as soon as I can, actually. I have to get across the county to pick my husband up, and I’m already late.’

I heard the front door go. ‘Okay, well let’s hope Mike can manage to get your car keys off Miller, then. And we’re happy to settle him in ourselves if you need to get off. I’ll have a read-through of what you’ve brought and hopefully you can dig up some more information for us tomorrow. I understand he’s excluded from mainstream education. Any news on an alternative yet?’

Again, the poor woman shook her head. ‘As far as I know, they’ve exhausted all the usual routes and there’s nothing on the horizon at the moment. However, I do know the ELAC team are on the case.’ (ELAC was education of looked-after children.) She turned back to the window. ‘I do hope Mike can get him inside. Maybe I should go out, too, and just try to get my car keys? I could jump in and drive off then, couldn’t I? I’m just thinking you’d have more of a chance of settling him if I weren’t here. Like I said, I don’t think he likes me.’

I had no answer to that, and I really didn’t know what to think. But she was right about one thing: I did think she was better off hopping into her car the first chance she got and just leaving us to it. If control and attention were the driving forces behind Miller, then the fewer people there were around to witness his provocative behaviour, the better.

After telling Tyler to stay put, I followed Libby out of the front door. Miller was continuing his bizarre behaviour and was also making squealing noises, presumably for added effect. I raised my eyebrows at Mike, who’d as yet to make a move, though he’d obviously been talking to him. ‘Come on, just chuck us those car keys, will you, mate,’ he said, ‘so that Libby can get her other bag out of her boot. It’s stuff she’s brought over for Casey and we need it. Our Tyler is waiting to show you his new PlayStation games as well. I think he’s got a dinosaur one, come to think of it.’

Miller stopped his pacing and regarded us all suspiciously. Then, bizarrely, like something out of a comedy movie, he stomped up and roared at me. Right at my face. I could almost taste the warm sweetness of his breath. He then placed the car keys on the window ledge by the front door, and returned to making exaggerated steps across the lawn.

Libby had clearly spotted her moment. Quick as a flash, she snatched up her keys and darted to the car – there really was no other word for it. Not until she was inside it, and had locked it, did she lower the window. And then, I noted, by no more than an inch.

The engine sprang to life. ‘I’ll give you a call in the morning, Casey,’ she shouted through the gap. ‘And, Miller, you be good, okay? I’ll see you soon.’

If we were aghast – which we were – Miller was galvanised. ‘Noooooo!’ he yelled, running full pelt towards the car, even kicking it as it moved out into the road. ‘Get back here, you lying bitch!’ he yelled. ‘You fucking liar! Get back here!’ He then bent down and snatched up a handful of gravel, and threw it hard at the car as it drove away. ‘Get back here! I’m not staying!’ he screamed up the street.

Everything became clear in an instant. I didn’t know what had been said between them, but between Miller’s fury, and the social worker’s hasty escape, I suspected no firm agreement had been reached about him actually staying with us tonight. If so, why on earth hadn’t she warned us?

Mike walked up to Miller’s side, making the most of the disparity in their sizes. Mike was a big man – six foot three – and Miller was short and skinny. ‘Come on, lad,’ he said, standing close but being careful not to touch him. ‘Forget social workers for tonight, hey? Let’s go in and meet Tyler. Then you can have a look at your room before settling in for the night. How does that sound?’

Some kind of switch must have flipped because Miller then turned to look up at Mike. For a moment, I thought he was going to kick him as well, for good measure, but he didn’t. He just inspected him, looking him up and down, calmly and minutely. Then he nodded, as if decided. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Can I have a drink?’

Then he swivelled and trotted back down the front path towards me.

Miller was definitely on the small side for twelve. He looked more like ten, in fact, an impression already heightened by his strange, child-like antics and apparent lack of self-consciousness. And he had strange darting eyes that never quite looked directly into mine. His hair was dirty and matted, and in need of a good trim, and his clothes were far too small for him. Not for the first time – and I’d seen a lot of kids, from all sorts of backgrounds – I wondered how a child who had been in care for so many years could look so urchin-like and dishevelled.

‘So, do I come in?’ he asked me. There was a note of challenge in his voice.

‘Of course,’ I said, smiling, but still wary. I stood aside to let him pass.

‘Up here, then?’ he asked. Then headed straight up the stairs as if he owned the place. And was now, at least, in it. Mike shut the door firmly behind him.

***

The bedroom we had hastily prepared for Miller was the one opposite Tyler’s. There was a double bed, the usual furniture of wardrobe, drawers and bedside table, and, as I’d promised, we had added a new television and a borrowed PlayStation, as well as a selection of books, and a bright green rug and matching cushions. I’d normally have chosen and bought a new duvet cover in a theme I thought the new child would like, as well as posters and a matching lightshade, but having had no time, I’d had to plump for something plain and pastel from the pile in the airing cupboard, and just hope it suited. Apparently it did.

‘Yeah, I really like it,’ Miller said, surprisingly brightly, once we’d trooped up the stairs after him, so he could make his inspection. I wondered how many homes he’d done this exact same thing in. ‘So is it okay if I set up the PlayStation?’ he asked me. ‘And can I please have the code for the internet, too? I usually play online.’

I noted the ‘please’. But looked quizzically at Tyler. Play online? I had no idea what that meant.

‘It’s just so he can join other players, Mum,’ Tyler explained. ‘Then you’re not just playing alone, and you can get into tournaments and stuff.’

‘Ah, I see,’ I said. ‘Fine. But first, love, find yourself some pyjamas out of your suitcase, then, once you’re ready for bed, come down for your tablets and a drink, and I’ll give you the password. You can’t be on it for too long, though. It’s already late. So just an hour then it goes off until tomorrow. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Miller said, smiling up at me. ‘Deal.’ Then he sank down to his knees and began unzipping his case, humming to himself as if he didn’t have a care in the world. A very different child to the one who’d screamed abuse and thrown gravel. Different too, to the Shakespearean-level dinosaur impersonator.

I wondered what other characters would emerge from beneath his shell.