A Stolen Childhood (21 page)

I let it go.

I had to send Kiara haring off to track down Kelly so she could cover me, but within ten minutes I was bowing out of a rather incredulous Gary’s office, leaving him and Tommy and his mum to thrash out some kind of plan; a plan I hoped and prayed didn’t necessitate them doing another runner, because they could, after all, keep running for ever. At some point they had to stop. I hoped that point was now.

My only frustration – and it was a big one – was that I was once again on the periphery. Having delivered them to Gary’s door I had to turn around and leave them, when every fibre of my being wanted to be in there in the thick of it, helping sort everything out. I’d seen enough of that scar to incense me and make me want to forget the language – help get that bastard what he deserved.

But if I’d thought I’d had to step away and let the professionals step in instead, to deal with the fall-out (in my job, it was ever thus), I was about to get something of a rude awakening. And if I’d thought that my day so far had been a little out of the ordinary, it was just about to get a whole lot stranger. As I hurried back to class, Kelly was waiting for me just outside the door, holding it almost closed.

‘About turn,’ she commanded, making a little circle with her index finger.

‘What?’ I asked her. ‘Why?’

‘You need to head back to the secretaries’ office,’ she explained. ‘I’ve just had Barbara on the phone.’ She lowered her voice further. ‘Says you need to call Kiara’s mum. She’s apparently been on the phone wanting to speak to you urgently.’

‘Kiara’s mum? What on earth does
she
want?’ I asked. ‘And why the rush? I should probably find out whether I should speak to her at all – I don’t know the protocol, but given the ongoing investigation … Anyway, I can do that at lunchtime.’

‘Casey, you’ve already lost your break twice this week, catching up with paperwork, and that’s on top of losing it every Wednesday when you go over to the Reach for Success centre – I know all these things for a
fact
. Go and do it
now
– Kiara and Jonathan are absolutely fine here – probably busy gossiping, truth be known. Go and sort it now, then it’s done.’ She grinned at me. ‘And don’t hurry back. And that’s an
order
!’

I did as I was told. Kelly was right. No time like the present, and as I hurried back to the admin block I wondered just what Kiara’s mum
had
called about. Wondered what was happening with her, period – as far as I knew there was an ongoing investigation into her lifestyle, wasn’t there? I thought back to the catalogue of pictures – part of her ‘brochure’? – and wondered what sort of involvement the police currently had. At the very least, she was in big trouble for neglect and abuse, and probably a whole list of other things too. Was she calling to try and get me on side? Explain herself? What?

Gary was obviously otherwise engaged with the Robinsons, and when I fetched up at Donald’s office, he wasn’t there either. Off-site at an education authority meeting all day, it turned out. So that kind of put the lid on it anyway. No matter, I thought. If and when I returned Mrs Bentley’s call, it would be in my own good time. I probably did need to speak to Gary first, and he had enough on his plate. So instead, I just put my head round the door of the secretaries’ office to let them know I’d got the message and was on the case.

‘Take this, then,’ Barbara said, passing me a post-it note bearing a phone number. And good luck with her – what a rude, aggressive woman!’

You don’t know the
half
of it, I thought as I took it from her, because obviously almost no one in school did. In fact, I was just reflecting on how much might lie beneath the surface of so many of our hundreds of families when the office phone rang again.

Jane, one of the other secretaries, answered it just as I was about to return to my classroom, when the frantic flapping of her hand stopped me. Barbara turned as well.

‘Is that her again?’ she said.

Jane nodded. Then she beckoned to me. ‘Might as well, while you’re here,’ Barbara suggested. So I took the phone from Jane, more to spare her – I could hear Mrs Bentley’s voice screeching at her even from a distance of a few feet away – than from any desire to communicate with her myself.

I held the receiver to my ear, intent on letting her know that I wasn’t in a position to tell her anything about Kiara, but as soon as I said hello, off she went.

‘Ah, you’re there, are you?’ she said straight away. Had she been drinking? It certainly sounded like it. ‘You fucking nosey bitch!’ she railed. ‘You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?’

‘Mrs Bentley,’ I began. ‘Look, I’m sorry but I can’t really speak to you, I –’

‘’Ooh, you can’t really speak to me,’ she parroted back. ‘Well, that’s fine, because I’m not interested in anything you have to say! No, let me tell
you
something, shall I? You clever-arsed bitch. You’re not half as fucking clever as you think you are.’

‘Mrs Bentley –’ I tried again, more firmly this time. ‘I’d be grateful if –’

‘Just shut up and listen for a minute, will you? She was fucking fine while she was with me and you fucking know it! No matter what I do for my fucking living. But
no
, you had to interfere.’
Fine
? I thought.
FINE?
In what warped, parallel universal might that be? ‘And now she’s straight out of the fucking frying pan and into the fire!’

‘Mrs Bentley!’ I barked at her. ‘
Please
try and calm down. I have no idea what you are talking about, and I won’t do if you continue to scream at me like this, will I? I’m not sure you should even be calling the school.’

‘I’ll call who I fucking like!’ she snapped. ‘And you don’t have any fucking idea, do you? Why? Because you’re fucking thick, that’s why. You’re fucking thick! Take her from me, and put her with him – like, I go down and he’s the avenging fucking angel? Give me strength! He’s a piece of fucking shit is what he is, and you are seriously going to regret this, you mark my fucking words. I hope you’re hap –’

And, then, a single click. The line went dead.

I stared into the receiver like the idiot I’d just been called, and wondered what the hell that had all been about. Then at the hand that held it, which I realised was shaking.

‘Well,’ Barbara said. ‘Gave you both barrels as well, did she? What is that woman
on
?’

‘A bottle of something 40 per cent proof, would be my guess,’ Jane observed, taking the phone from me and putting it back on its cradle. ‘You alright, Casey?’

‘I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘Just shell-shocked.’ I dragged up a weak grin from somewhere. ‘I think my ear’s still ringing.’

‘She’s always been a funny woman, that one,’ Barbara said, sniffing. ‘I hope she gets everything she’s got coming to her, frankly. How dare she! You sure you’re alright, Casey? Nasty, having someone yell at you like that.’

Though only sticks and stones would break my bones, I thought, remembering Tommy’s mum. ‘It’s just adrenaline,’ I said. ‘Natural reaction. Fight or flight and all that. I’d better get back, I suppose …’

‘Yes, but what did she say?’ Barbara asked. ‘What was all that
about
, exactly? Sour grapes?’

I tried to think on my feet. There would have been gossip around the school, among both pupils
and
staff – that was all quite natural. Though no one outside the immediate circle of personnel involved would have been told more than it was necessary for them to know. Hence they’d know about the social workers, about the removal, about the return of the pupil, and, in the case of the office staff, the logistics of the case, i.e. that Kiara’s ‘next of kin to be contacted in an emergency’ had changed a couple of times over the past few weeks. And now this. Tongues would be wagging, and that was natural as well.

‘Sour grapes for sure,’ I said. ‘Goes with the territory. I’m the resident busy-body, poking my nose in, for – God forbid – the good of the children. Anyway, she’s said her piece and hopefully that will be the end of it.’

‘You wish!’ Barbara said, her words accompanied by the sort of knowing grin that only a long-serving school secretary who’s seen it
all
before and more can pull off with an air of complete authority.

And I knew she was probably right.

It was the end of the day before I managed to catch up with Gary again, by which time the precise meaning behind those of Mrs Bentley’s words that didn’t begin with ‘F’ had been very much occupying a corner of my mind. That and the sheer force with which a whimsical expectation about how a school term might end can be blown right out of the water.

But that was school for you. Anything could, and often did, happen, and as I’d gathered up my paperwork and filled my satchel for home, I reflected that it was perhaps all that production of adrenaline that contributed to that sense of ‘burning out’. One thing was for sure – that now I worked in a school, I would never again make any kind of throwaway comment about teachers with their apparently enviably ‘short days and long holidays’. In fact I felt like slinking away right there and then, and hibernating till the autumn.

Right now, however, I had to run through what Mrs Bentley had said to me, and try to figure out whether it was anything we should be worried about. After all, it had been odd – because what did she have to gain from it? From what I’d heard, she’d already made it pretty clear that if Kiara was taken away from her, then so be it – an unthinkable notion for the overwhelming majority of mothers, but, sadly, not unheard of. A tragic fact of life.

So why the call, then? What was her motivation in wanting to speak to me? Just sour grapes because she’d lost her ‘assistant’?

‘I think you’ve hit that nail on the head,’ Gary said. ‘I’ll pass the information on to social services, of course, but I think we can assume she was just drunk and ranting.’

‘She was certainly ranting,’ I agreed.

‘And I imagine she’s under stress over the forthcoming court case. It must be galling for her, however completely deplorable what she’s done, that her ex is being portrayed as the perfect father after years of not having anything to do with her. Or, I imagine, contributing a bean. But they’ll review it. They’re more conversant with all the facts than we are. We can let them decide what to do. And, on the plus side, it’s also looking better for the Robinsons, so, in fact, it’s been quite a positive day.’

He went on to explain that they were being installed in a local refuge even as we were talking, and that Mrs Robinson had been persuaded to report her ex to the police. ‘We’ve no way of making them stay there, of course,’ Gary cautioned, ‘but I think Tommy himself is key there. She’s obviously terrified, but now he’s an adolescent – bit bigger and stronger – perhaps, I don’t know, perhaps she’ll feel braver. They might still do a flit, but my instinct is that his feelings on the matter might just hold sway. Let’s see in the morning, eh? Keep your fingers crossed, okay? Oh, and Casey,’ he added, smiling, ‘go home and put
all
of it out of your mind. And that’s an order.’

Obviously my day for being given orders, then. Which I was only too happy to take – as my mum would say, what would be would be …

Chapter 17

‘There should be a law against this,’ I muttered to Mike as a steaming mug of coffee was nudged into place on my crowded bedside table, inches from my face and within welcome sniffing distance of my nose.

‘You’re such a lightweight,’ he scoffed, as I opened one eye. The world seemed stupidly, annoyingly bright for 5 a.m., and I regretted the second glass of wine I’d succumbed to the previous evening. That was the trouble with decking, I decided. It inclined you to eat outside. There were so few nights in the year when you could, after all, and it
was
a minor family celebration, because Kieron had already finished his first college year and had passed his course with flying colours. But the trouble with eating outside in the evening was that it lured you into thinking you were on holiday. I opened the other eye and hauled myself upright.

‘It’s alright for you,’ I said, to Mike’s retreating back as he went off to shower. ‘You’re used to being up at this crazy time in the morning. My body clock feels under attack here!’

‘Haha – and it’s only going to get worse, love!’ he quipped. I groaned. He was probably right.

Kelly was certain it was my idea. Absolutely certain. I maintained it had been Jim’s, and Jim maintained it had been Kelly’s, so, between us no-one was prepared to admit responsibility for our end-of-term outing taking place at a centre that was a good 20 miles away and where there was a very real risk of one of us pulling something we shouldn’t.

Well, Jim and I, at any rate – Kelly, being so young and lithe, would be just fine. So perhaps it was Kelly’s idea after all. It was three days before the end of the summer term now, and we were off to one of those huge outward bound centres, buried deep in some dark forest, with all sorts of outdoorsy, Duke-of-Edinburgh-awardy, scary-looking activities – all designed for maximum thrills, if not spills. No spills; they were clear on that at least, because safety was ‘paramount and completely guaranteed’.

Hmm. I felt only partly comforted by that, because most of what was on offer looked terrifying. There was a big outdoor climbing wall, a traditional-style army assault course, as well as high ropes and standing platforms and stepping ‘stone’ courses, way up in the air, and all sorts of other lofty, tree-based challenges, all of which were minutely detailed in the glossy brochures, showing lots of colour photographs of delighted-looking children, wearing hard hats and harnesses and beaming down from on high.

And at no point was it ever suggested that the three of us had to join in, but I knew – I just knew – we’d be coerced into doing something, because that was just the way these things happened.

But that was a while away yet – first I had to negotiate my mug of coffee, pack a lunch, grab a shower, then pick up Kiara before heading to school to meet the minibus.