Trouble at the Little Village School (26 page)

‘Well, as my grandmother would say, “If that’s the law then the law is an ass”.’

The doctor smiled. ‘I think that was Charles Dickens actually,’ he told her, raising a small smile.

‘Well, this Dickens must have got it off her,’ said the housekeeper.

‘The social worker has a job to do. It’s difficult and challenging and I guess sometimes heartbreaking, but they have to do what they think is right and what the law demands.’

‘And they think this is right, uprooting the lad? I thought social workers had to have the child’s best interests at heart. Doesn’t sound like that to me.’

‘To be fair, Mrs O’Connor, I think Miss Parsons was on my side. I am sure she would have preferred Danny staying where he is. Her hands are tied. It was suggested that for a trial period Danny should go and stay with his grandmother for a few weekends. Miss Parsons will see how he is getting on and make some visits. You never know, Danny may like it in Clayton and when he’s got to know his grandmother he could be happy there.’

‘He’ll feel about as much at home with that woman as the Pope would in a lap-dancing club,’ observed the housekeeper. ‘Does it sound as if Danny will like it there, stuck in a flat?’ she asked bluntly. ‘I know Maisie Proctor of old, Dr Stirling, and she’s only bothered about one person – herself. She led poor Les Stainthorpe a merry old dance, so she did. Made eyes at him, courted him, married him, robbed him and then ran off with another man. It’s the oldest game in the book, is that. She was a nasty piece of work when she served behind the bar in the Blacksmith’s Arms, making eyes at all the men customers until she was sacked for putting her hand in the till. There’s nothing you can tell me about Maisie Proctor.’

‘She might have changed,’ said the doctor.

‘Can a crab be taught to walk straight?’ said Mrs O’Connor.

Dr Stirling knew that the housekeeper was probably right.

‘And I’ll tell you something else,’ said Mrs O’Connor, her face red with anger, ‘she’s only in it for the money, so she is. Wants to get her greedy hands on the family allowance and any other benefits she can squeeze out of the system.’

‘I really don’t think that is the case,’ replied Dr Stirling. ‘I’d like to think that now she is by herself—’

‘By herself?’

‘Yes, the man she was living with has died.’

‘The brush salesman from Rotherham, the one she ran off with to marry?’

‘She never remarried,’ the doctor told her.

‘Typical.’

‘I guess now she is on her own she would like her grandson with her,’ said the doctor.

‘Well, as I’ve said, I think it’s a crying shame, so I do,’ said Mrs O’Connor. She turned, headed for the door and shaking her head, said as a parting shot, ‘And you mark my words Dr Stirling, it will end in tears.’

‘May I come in?’ Dr Stirling stood in the porch at Wisteria Cottage that evening.

‘Of course,’ said Elisabeth. ‘Come through.’

‘You’ve got the place looking lovely,’ he said, walking into the snug sitting-room with its heavy burgundy drapes, old oak dresser and cream-coloured sofa and chairs. A fire of logs blazed and crackled in the hearth. ‘It’s so warm and cosy in here.’

Elisabeth slipped her arm through his and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘You look just about done in,’ she said. ‘Sit down and I’ll get you a drink. Something a bit stronger than tea, I think.’

‘It’s my turn now to burden you with my problems,’ he told her, flopping on to the sofa and sighing.

Elisabeth poured a whisky from the decanter on the dresser and placed the glass in his hand, then sat down beside him. She brushed another kiss against his cheek and interlaced her fingers through his. ‘So, what is the problem?’ she asked.

‘Danny,’ he told her. He took a sip from the glass.

‘Danny?’ she repeated. ‘I thought you went with him to the Social Services today to sort out the adoption?’

‘That’s what I thought,’ he replied, ‘but I am afraid it wasn’t to be.’

‘Why, what happened?’

‘Danny’s grandmother was there.’

‘His grandmother? She hasn’t seen him since he was a baby.’

‘Well, she’s turned up like the wicked witch at the christening.’

‘I gather from that that you were not impressed with her?’

‘No, I wasn’t.’

‘What’s she like?’ asked Elisabeth.

‘Loud, belligerent, bad-tempered. I found her a most unpleasant woman and I could see Danny didn’t take to her either. She wants him to go and live with her.’

‘Surely she can’t just appear out of the blue and whisk him away, can she?’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Dr Stirling, ‘but she’s a determined woman and looks as if she’s spoiling for a fight over custody.’

‘What did they say at the Social Services?’

He breathed out noisily. ‘Just that Danny ought to get to know her. I guess they’ll decide what they think should happen, in due course.’

‘Does that mean you won’t be adopting Danny?’ asked Elisabeth.

‘It’s been put on hold until things are sorted out,’ he told her. He finished the whisky.

‘Poor Michael,’ she said, squeezing his hand.

‘Poor Danny,’ he said quietly.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Following the meeting with the social worker and Danny’s grandmother, I made a few enquiries and spoke to a solicitor friend of mine. Stephen Smith works in the family court and is one of the best lawyers around. It seems that a court of law might very well grant his grandmother custody, if it was taken that far. She can provide a good stable home for the boy and, of course, she is his closest relative. I just feel so low and helpless.’

‘And how is Danny taking all this?’ asked Elisabeth.

‘He’s devastated, poor lad,’ replied the doctor. ‘He’s gone quiet, just like he did when his grandfather died. He went up to his room and wouldn’t come down for his tea. James couldn’t get a word out of him either and he rarely spoke to Mrs O’Connor. I think he feels I have let him down.’

‘No, Michael, he can’t think that,’ she said. ‘You were so good to take him in.’ She snuggled up to him and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘You’re the most caring person I know. Danny doesn’t think you let him down.’

‘I’m afraid he does,’ said Dr Stirling. ‘You see, I promised the boy only this morning that he had nothing to worry about and that he would be staying with us at Clumber Lodge. I could see he was troubled about something. I just thought it was nerves but now I know why he was worried. I think he sensed things might not work out. He’d met his grandmother in the graveyard. I didn’t know anything about this, he never told me. I think Danny had an idea she might cause trouble for him. You should have seen the look in his eyes, wide and frightened like a caged animal. As I said, the boy is devastated and I am afraid there is nothing I can do.’

Elisabeth stroked his hair and touched the curl at the back of his neck.

‘A few more grey hairs in there,’ he said, raising a smile.

‘It makes you look very distinguished,’ she replied.

There was a comfortable quiet between them. They sat holding hands, staring at the fire and thinking.

‘James will be upset too,’ said Elisabeth finally.

‘Yes, he is. He just doesn’t know what to say or do.’

‘You never know,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Danny might be able to stay with you, and if he does go to live with his grandmother he might settle.’

‘You haven’t met her.’

‘I do hope that things work out for Danny,’ said Elisabeth. ‘I promised his grandfather that I would look out for him. I guess he may feel that if anyone has let him down it’s me.’

‘Not at all. Anyway, I thought you ought to know the situation.’

‘Thank you for letting me know,’ said Elisabeth.

‘How are things at school?’ asked Dr Stirling, changing the subject.

‘We had a short inspection today that went off very well, thank goodness,’ Elisabeth told him. ‘It was the inspector who visited before, the one who looks like an undertaker. One of the pupils said he looked as he had walked out of a horror film. She wasn’t far wrong. Looks of course can be deceptive and he turned out to be really positive and supportive.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ said the doctor. ‘His report should go very much in your favour when they come to decide on the headship of the new set-up. Any news on the proposed amalgamation, by the way?’

‘Yes. I received a letter from the Education Office yesterday,’ said Elisabeth. ‘They are going to convene further meetings for the staff of Barton and Urebank, to explain their plans for the merger of the two schools.’

‘So they are definitely going ahead with it then?’ asked the doctor.

‘It appears so,’ Elisabeth replied. ‘The Director of Education says that a newly constituted governing body will be appointed, with representatives from the two schools. I hope you will agree to be on it.’

‘I don’t think I can,’ he replied.

‘But you must!’ exclaimed Elisabeth.

‘James will be at secondary school next September,’ Dr Stirling told her, ‘so as a parent governor I won’t be eligible and neither will Mrs Pocock.’

‘That’s a bit of a blow. I hope the Reverend Atticus – Archdeacon Atticus, I mean – will be on it. He has been a great ally.’

‘And then there’s the formidable Lady Wadsworth,’ added the doctor. ‘I wouldn’t like her as an adversary.’

‘I just hope the major comes up trumps this time,’ said Elisabeth.

‘I had better go,’ said Dr Stirling. ‘The boys will be wondering where I am. Mrs O’Connor’s looking after them and she’ll want to be away.’

‘Can’t you stay a while longer?’ asked Elisabeth.

‘Not really,’ he replied, ‘much as I would like to.’ He turned her face to his and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘Thank you for listening. What would I do without you, Elisabeth Devine?’

John, wrapped up in his thick coat, scarf and gloves and wearing wellington boots, held Elisabeth’s hand tightly as they walked slowly down the small gravel path that skirted Forest View. It had started to drizzle, and both mother and son were getting wet. Elisabeth had suggested to John’s teacher that she should use an umbrella, but he had advised against it. Her son, like many autistic people, was a person of strict routine and got upset if those routines were broken in any way. Umbrellas frightened the boy and anyway, he liked walking in the rain.

As they walked, Elisabeth kept up a stream of conversation, telling her son about the events of the week, the children at the school, her hopes and concerns. She told him about Danny and how upset the boy must feel with the prospect of going to live somewhere else.

‘He’s been through such a difficult time,’ she told her son, ‘losing his grandfather, not knowing what would happen to him, then getting settled only to be uprooted. He’s been so quiet and distant at school. It’s so sad to see him like this. He’s usually such a bubbly, friendly little boy.’

When she paused John looked down and cocked his head to one side as if waiting for her to continue. Clearly, she thought, he was listening. Occasionally he stopped to stare at a puddle before stamping in the water. He then stared in fascination at the effect, his face expressionless, his brow furrowed as if in deep thought.

The discussion Elisabeth had had with the head teacher that morning had been more reassuring than the last one. There had been no repeat of John’s outburst, and Mr Williams had reported some positive signs. The speech and language therapist, who had been working closely with John for the past few weeks, was very pleased with the boy’s progress. As she told the head teacher, for most children this improvement would be a minuscule step but for John, with his condition, it was a giant’s stride. The therapist had been working intensively at the boy’s pace and level, taking it slowly step by step in trying to encourage some communication, using what is called picture exchange, showing him images and representations. There had been an encouraging reaction.

That morning John was his usual calm self.

‘Mr Williams said I would find you here,’ said Dr Stirling, meeting Elisabeth on the path and giving her a peck on the lips. ‘You ought to be inside. You’re getting soaking wet.’

‘Oh, hello, Michael,’ she said happily. ‘We’re going for a walk, aren’t we, John, and we like the rain.’

‘May I join you?’ asked the doctor.

‘Of course, if you don’t mind getting wet, but don’t stand too close. John likes splashing in the puddles.’

The boy continued to stare at the ground but held out his hand in the doctor’s direction.

Dr Stirling took his hand.

‘You are very honoured,’ said Elisabeth. ‘It’s usually only me and John’s teacher who are allowed to hold his hand. So what brings you here this Saturday?’

‘To see a couple of the children,’ he told her. ‘I was called out this morning.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope,’ she said.

‘No, thank goodness,’ he replied. ‘One little rascal jumped off a table. I think he thought he could fly. No bones broken, just a few bruises and a sprained ankle. The other child reacted to some new medication. She seems all right now.’ He looked at John. ‘This young man appears to be doing well.’