Читать книгу Mummy’s Little Soldier: A troubled child. An absent mum. A shocking secret. - Casey Watson, Casey Watson - Страница 12

There appeared to be a bit of a kerfuffle going on in the corridor outside Gary’s office, and I slowed down my pace as I approached. I was hoping that whatever the problem was would be quickly sorted out so I could get to the important business of my new pet project – Gary and the developments in his love life. Well, a little bit of idle gossip never harmed anyone, and it certainly helped break up the day.

As, in my experience, did kerfuffles in corridors. Though generally not in a good way. Not wishing to interrupt what was clearly a tense situation, I held back a bit, a good few yards from Gary’s room, and pretended to search through my satchel. No point me wellying in unless required to, after all, but I was there, at least, if called upon.

But it seemed Gary was on top of things. ‘Calm down, Leo,’ he was saying calmly to the angry-looking blond boy who was at that moment struggling to get away from the grip of the male teacher who had him pretty firmly by the shoulder. I recognised the boy sufficiently to pull up his whole name. Leo Fenton. I remembered him because he was a striking, cherubic-faced, good-looking lad. The sort of lad who’d soon have girls giggling in his wake. Not that I really knew him; I more ‘knew of’ him than was properly acquainted, our paths having only ever obliquely crossed.

It certainly looked as if he’d upset someone now. ‘We can’t get anywhere while you’re in this mood,’ Gary continued. ‘How about you stop wriggling and give me your version of what happened.’

‘What’s the point, sir?’ Leo asked, spluttering indignantly as he did so. ‘You’ll only believe him, anyway!’ He jerked his head backwards to indicate the ‘him’ in question – the teacher – and once again attempted to shrug the hand off. ‘Just exclude me, or give me detention or whatever, and let me get on.’

There was something about the boy’s face, and his tone of exasperation, that made me decide to wade in after all. That and the expression on the accompanying teacher’s face. I didn’t know him, though I’d seen him around the school from time to time, and to my mind he looked a little bit too much like the cat who’d got the cream. As if he felt proud to be taking this errant child to the school’s CPO; almost as if he were waiting for some recognition for doing so.

It was that expression, more than anything, that decided it for me. I stopped pretending to fiddle in my satchel and approached them. ‘Anything I can do, Mr Clark?’ I asked, only now noticing that there was blood on the boy’s brow and a smear of it on his cheek. I leaned in automatically to take a closer look. ‘Perhaps I should take Leo to the medical room and clean this up while you two have a chat?’

Gary smiled at me gratefully. ‘Thanks, Mrs Watson,’ he said. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’ He then looked at the boy, his expression long-suffering enough for me to acknowledge there might be some history there. ‘Leo, go get that cut checked out, and me and Mr Kennedy will be waiting in my office for you.’

Close up, Leo was pale and had the sort of slightly unkempt look that immediately made me take notice. Might just be one of those kids who’d manage to look scruffy in their birthday suit – he certainly had the sort of hair for it – or, on the other hand, there might be a lack of care at home. Either way, he seemed only too happy to get away from his captor, tucking in his shirt bottom irritably. He glanced across at me as we walked. ‘You’re that lady in the Unit, aren’t you?’

I nodded. ‘That I am.’

‘My mate used to be in with you,’ he continued, almost conversationally. Almost as if whatever had happened had been relegated to a minor irritation, along with the cut under his eyebrow. ‘He’s called Tommy. Tommy Robinson. Do you remember him, miss? He lives near me. We walk to school together some days.’

I smiled. I did indeed know Tommy. Another tousle-haired lad. And the cheeky-chappy Londoner I’d had with me the previous term. ‘Of course I remember him,’ I said. ‘Tommy’s lovely – one of my favourite pupils. I’ve not had a proper chat with him for a while though. How’s he doing?’

‘Yeah, he’s alright, miss,’ he said, nodding. ‘He’s good.’

We entered the medical room, and he then seemed to remember why he was with me. ‘You reckon this will take long?’ he wanted to know, glancing up at the wall clock. ‘Only I’m going to be late home, you know, after all this. I always go home at dinner time and now my mum’ll be worried.’

There was no one in attendance in the medical room, so I got some cotton wool and ran it under the tap. ‘I have no idea,’ I told him honestly. ‘I hope not.’

He glanced at the clock again. ‘You reckon I’ll get excluded, miss?’

Excluded? That seemed a bit drastic. ‘Again, I have no idea,’ I said carefully, pointing to the seat I wanted him to sit on. ‘I imagine that’ll depend on what you’ve done, Leo. In the meantime, let me take a look at that cut of yours. Looks like you’ve been on the receiving end of quite a whack. I take it you were fighting?’

He confirmed that he had been and then explained – again, quite conversationally – that he’d been going to an art class once a week down at the local youth centre, as part of a project I had helped set up a year or so back. Called Reach for Success, it was designed as a rolling programme of activities and lessons that were aimed at the more disengaged students in school, and those not deemed likely to pass many GCSEs. The idea was very much grounded in the practical. It offered an opportunity for those pupils to gain recognised qualifications in subjects such as cookery, woodwork, mechanics and so on, and, in doing so, enabled them to finish their time at school feeling as though they had achieved something worthwhile, while serving them well in the transition to college or workplace.

‘I’ve been doing art till the next mechanics course starts,’ Leo continued. ‘I go straight after break. An’ if I come back to school after it finishes, it takes me halfway into dinner time, which means I miss going home.’

‘And?’ I asked, brushing a flop of fringe back to inspect the still oozing brow.

‘And I decided I’d wait in the bus shelter for ten minutes, and then walk to the chippy and then go home. But anyways, this big older kid comes up, starts calling me tramp and that, and, I dunno –’ He looked up. ‘You know what it’s like, miss – I just flew at him.’

I tried not to smile. ‘You weren’t scared of him?’

Leo shook his head as best he could, seeing as I was still maintaining pressure on the injury. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘My brother says the bigger they are, the harder they fall. He just chucked a lucky punch, that’s all. I could easily have seen him off, miss. Except next thing I know, I’m being dragged around the bus shelter by stupid Mr Kennedy – accusing me of twagging school – which I wasn’t, by the way – and the other kid ran off. An’ that’s it.’

I was inclined to believe him. I might not have known him well, but I’d seen him around school many times, and he just seemed to be a bit like Tommy, really. A bit of mischief about him – certainly the kind of boy you’d need to keep an eye on – but not really the type that caused any serious trouble. The fact that I didn’t know him that well only endorsed that. I tended to know the real rascals by default.

‘Come on then, kiddo,’ I said, patting him on the back, ‘let’s go get the verdict, shall we?’ Now it was my turn to glance at the clock. ‘Though it looks like you’ve missed the chippy for today, sunshine, doesn’t it? No time for going home for lunch now.’

He sighed, but at the same time seemed to accept that, on some days, that was life. In reality he was lucky the teacher had shown up when he had, because I wasn’t sure I agreed with his ‘harder they fall’ line. He could have been badly hurt.

It was with that thought in my mind that I took him the few yards back to Gary’s office, hoping that my day wouldn’t be similarly derailed by a run on the sandwich selection.

But Gary seemed to have other ideas. I was just turning to leave them to it – I’d catch up with Gary in the staff room later – when he flapped a hand beckoning me back. ‘Oh no, come and join us, Mrs Watson,’ he said. ‘If you can spare us a few minutes? As behaviour manager, it wouldn’t harm for you to sit in – maybe you could help us to formulate some kind of plan.’

‘Plan?’ I asked, confused at being unexpectedly included.

‘Yes, for Leo’s future here in school.’

My uninformed first opinion of Leo had, it seemed, been a tad rose-coloured. Perhaps more than a tad, I decided, as I listened to the list of misdemeanours Gary now helpfully read out to me. Skipping school, constantly arriving back late from lunch – and occasionally not returning at all – not listening in class, fighting, swearing and being generally disruptive; as lists went it was pretty comprehensive.

‘Anything to add, Leo?’ Gary said as he looked up from his computer screen. ‘Any explanations to offer for any of this?’

Leo had now retreated into sullen teenage boy mode. ‘No, sir,’ he answered in a monotone.

Gary sighed and turned his chair around to face him. ‘Leo, what do you think we should do with you? I’m interested, really. Do you think you should be allowed to continue to behave like this? If not, what do you reckon we should do about it?’

The room fell silent, bar a rustle as Mr Kennedy checked his watch, his lunch break ticking along every bit as fast as Leo’s. Indeed, he seemed bored now he’d done his heroic bit. Finally, after some time, Leo spoke.

‘Well, I suppose you should exclude me, shouldn’t you, sir? Or, if not, maybe give me another chance?’

It was hard to hide my smile. He really had thought it through, going from one end of the punishment scale to the other in a couple of sentences. And, really, what did Gary expect him to say?

‘I have an idea,’ I said, almost the very second I had it. ‘How about we do give Leo another chance? Incorporating a probationary period in the Unit. He could start on Monday – still do his classes at the youth centre, obviously, but the rest of the time – for say, a half term to begin with? – he can spend with me.’ I glanced at Leo, who looked cautiously pleased, if a little surprised, and then at both men in turn. ‘If that’s okay with everyone else, of course.’

In truth, I was a little surprised myself.

No, scrub that. A lot surprised. What was I thinking?

‘Well, that’s you and your big mouth,’ I muttered to myself half an hour later when, a sandwich grabbed and a coffee slurped, I was reflecting on the fact that my little trio had now become a quintet. And a quintet of different kids who’d have markedly different needs. I was nothing if not a glutton for punishment.

‘Leo Fenton? You’re telling me,’ commented Kelly, as we strolled back to the classroom and I told her about the news of our latest ‘recruit’. And she filled me in on what she’d heard about him already – which seemed to be more of the same. ‘But, more to the point, what’s the word up on Gary?’

I shook my head. ‘Nothing to tell. Yes, I caught up with him, yes, Paul’s parents seemed to like him, no, I don’t have anything more interesting to impart. And, to be honest, I was more engrossed in hearing about Leo Fenton. Still am, in fact – he seems to be something like the local Scarlet Pimpernel, doesn’t he? Sees school as an optional extra.’

Kelly nodded. ‘Oh, yes. From what I’ve heard, he’s a bit of a serial absconder, isn’t he?’

‘It would seem so. But you know when you speak to a kid and you just get a kind of inkling?’

Kelly grinned. ‘Depends on the kind of inkling.’

‘Oh, definitely the good kind. That he’s not a bad ’un. Just a bit of a not quite toe-the-line ’un. That kind.’

‘Well, it’s your call. Your hunch. And it can’t hurt, really, can it? Another year 9 boy might work out well with the younger boys, mightn’t he?’

Assuming he showed his face much, that was.

But that was for worrying about come Monday, in any case, and right now it was still Friday, and I still had two children lined up for their ‘get to know you’ session. But given that the children in question were Darryl and Cody, I wasn’t confident we’d make a great deal of headway.

Darryl, particularly, was never going to be easy to interview. On the evidence we had so far he appeared to be scared of absolutely everything, and I still hadn’t really worked out how I could possibly help him gain the social skills he would need to navigate a mainstream school.

But we had to make a start, and there was no time like the present; so, after speaking further to Kelly, whose side he barely left (well, unless she could enlist the support of one of the older mentors from the sixth form, that was), I decided that, even if it stressed him out, she would walk him across to me in the reading corner, sit him down and then leave him there, however difficult or unsettling he found the wrench. I had to try to connect with him, after all – try to get him to trust me – and at least he would still be able to see Kelly from his vantage point. Although, in reality, however simple it sounded in theory, putting it into practice could be anything but.