The Girl From Yesterday (19 page)

‘And I believe that Bad Daddy shows up in your story too,’ Josephine invited the staff from the primary school to take the floor.

Nathalie and Kyla took turns in recounting their experiences with Emma and Dom, complete with a full recounting of the younger children’s disclosures. There were many winces and looks of extreme discomfort from those hearing these for the first time.

‘The children have continued to assert that all this is real and did happen,’ Kyla concluded, ‘and new stories are emerging every day – usually variations on what you have heard, but I believe they indicate a long-term, regular and concerted campaign of terror and abuse, from
both
parents, although I believe Dora’s role seems to be centred around her relationship with Jim. Emma and Dom do not see her as abusive – they describe her as something of a nonentity in fact.’

When everyone had spoken, Josephine looked around at the group.

‘It seems clear to me that there is only one course of action left open to us,’ she said. ‘However, I’d like the consensus of the group.’

‘Tom and Dora are not fit to care for those children,’ Doctor Sounding said firmly. ‘I cannot stand by and allow those babies to be abused on a continual basis any longer. I say we seek a care order. Today if possible.’

‘I agree,’ Kyla said.

‘In my experience a voluntary care order is always more desirable,’ I said. ‘But yes, I think it clear that home is not safe for the Blaney kids.’

‘Are we being a bit drastic?’ Nathalie asked.

All heads in the room turned to her. This was an unexpected turn of events.

‘You have driven this enquiry,’ Josephine said. ‘Are you changing your mind?’

‘No, no,’ Nathalie said. ‘I just wonder if the kids need to be taken into care. They’re so close, and in care they would be separated.’

‘We have thought about that,’ Sid said evenly. ‘We are seeking a placement that would accommodate all four children.’

‘Are we adding pain to the suffering they’ve already experienced?’ Nathalie asked again.

‘There is no way to do this that is easy and painless,’ Sid said. ‘We are trying to perform emergency surgery without the benefit of anaesthetic. It will hurt like hell while being done, but the long-term benefits should make it worthwhile.’

‘I don’t know,’ Nathalie said. ‘I’m not happy about all of this. I think we’re playing God with this family’s life.’

I watched her. Something wasn’t right. This woman had been adamant about interceding. Why was she now so against it? She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and she ran to her car when the meeting broke with no firm decision made.

The girl paddled just on the waterline, delicately dipping her big toe into the water. I noticed that she never went any further than that, as if it was an unspoken rule.

‘Do you ever go swimming?’ I asked her.

‘No. We don’ never get in de water.’

‘Why not?’

‘My daddy say it bad for us to get in. Him can’t swim. None of us swim neider.’

‘It’s fun, being able to,’ I said. ‘You have this beautiful beach. It’s a pity not to get the most out of it.’

‘Dad don’t never come down here. Mam don’t. They scared, I think.’

‘But you’re not,’ I said.

‘No. I not scared.’

‘You should never get in when you’re on your own,’ I said, ‘But maybe we could arrange to get you some lessons.’

She tiptoed along some more.

‘Dad says they monsters in the sea. He says they getcha if you go too deep.’

‘You wouldn’t be going deep,’ I said. ‘Up to your waist, maybe.’

‘You ever see a sea monster?’ I laughed.

‘No.’

‘I not see a
sea
monster,’ she said. ‘I seen a monster though.’

‘You did?’

‘Yeah,’ the girl said, ‘Monsters is real, all right.’

I had a feeling she was being totally truthful.

I awoke from a dream I could not remember that night. The moon was shining through a crack in my bedroom window, casting a beam of white light across the room like a laser, settling in a spot in the door. I felt uneasy, anxious, and sat up, looking for Millie, who I saw was standing staring at the door as if there was something beyond it. I got up and pulled on a T-shirt. She looked back at me, whined, and then returned her attention to the door.

The hallway was lit up like it was day, the moon’s radiance unimpeded by curtains. Millie walked rapidly ahead of me and stopped in the entrance to the living room. I came up behind her, and saw what had aroused her attention.

Lonnie was standing with his back to me, looking out the window at the street beyond. Except I somehow knew he was not really looking at the night-time thoroughfare – he was seeing things far beyond it. Things I could not, maybe never would, perceive.

Millie trotted over to him and he held out his hand for her to sniff, then rested it on her head.

‘I did what you wanted,’ I said.

‘Did you?’ he asked, not looking at me.

‘I went to social services. I made the referral. The kids are going into care . . . probably.’

Lonnie turned his focus back on the street.

‘Right over there, where the drapery shop is now. That building used to be the county home,’ he said.

‘I didn’t know that,’ I said.

‘You know what the county home was, don’t you?’

‘It was similar to a poor house,’ I said. ‘An institution for people in trouble. Residential care for the community.’

‘You make it sound very pleasant,’ he said.

‘I doubt that it was,’ I said. ‘I haven’t researched it much.’

‘The point about the county home was that it had little to do with the needs of the people who ended up living there. It was mostly about putting them somewhere where the general population didn’t have to look at them.’

‘I think a lot of care is like that,’ I said.

‘Make sure that is not what happens to the Blaneys,’ he said, and his voice was hard and commanding.

‘Hey,’ I said, annoyed. ‘You tell me to go to social services or else. Now you’re telling me to make sure the kids
aren’t
put in care if that isn’t the best thing – I mean, their parents are starving them and abusing them and not sending them to school.’

I threw my hands up in exasperation. ‘I tell you what, Lonnie –
you
tell me what’s best for them, ’cause I’m getting pissed off being shoved around from Billy to Jack!’

‘What’s best for them is that which will make them happiest and cause them the least pain,’ Lonnie said, and then I was standing looking at the window, and he was not there. Millie sniffed about the carpet and whined at me for a moment, but I had no idea if I had dreamed the whole thing.

Sid Doran dropped by the office to tell me the Blaney children would be coming in to the local health centre for some more tests, so I thought I might call over and see how they were coping.

There was no sign of Tom when I got there, just Dora looking piqued and worried. The children didn’t look great either. Jim was pale as a ghost, deep rings under his eyes as if he had not been sleeping. Winnie had a deep gash across her forehead as if she had been hit with something sharp. Dom was sitting on the floor in the corner rocking, his arms about his knees. And little Emma was wandering about the room crying, darting at unseen things in corners and starting at shadows.

‘They’re trying to take my babies away from me,’ Dora said, the electric buzz of hysteria very plain in her voice. ‘I can’t believe this is happening. They can’t take the children! They just can’t!’

‘Has anyone told you the kids are going to be taken?’ I asked her, making a grab for Emma, catching her and putting her on my knee.

‘They don’t need to,’ she said. ‘Social workers – that’s all they ever want. I know. I know how these things work.’

Emma made a hiccoughing sound and I hugged her tight. She was so little, so tiny, yet had experienced so much. I wanted to take her away and read her a story, or sing her some songs. The unhappiness and depression were heavy in that room. It was no place for a child.

I wondered how often I had caused families to sit in rooms just like this, heaping more blackness on their already stooped shoulders.

‘Doctor Sounding has organized for the children to have some tests done, that’s all,’ I said, trying to soothe her. ‘No one is getting taken away today.’

‘Maybe not today.’ she said. ‘But soon. Could be any time, now. They’ll come and we won’t be able to stop them.’

I stayed while each child went in and came out looking shocked and even more upset. I thought of what Lonnie had said the previous night: was this really making things better? What had I set loose on these children? Was the cure, in this case, worse than the disease itself? There had been a time when I was resolute about such things. Not now. Watching all this happen from the sidelines, I was coming to believe that everything I had stood for was wrong.

The tests that were being carried out that day were to establish whether or not the children had – in theory – engaged in inappropriate sexual behaviour. This involved checking if the girls’ hymens had been broken and if there had been any overt stretching of the rectal opening in the boys. Swabs would be taken to see if there were any residual traces of semen. No matter what way you looked at it, the tests were undignified and invasive.

I watched the faces of each child as they emerged from the surgery and felt as if I had molested them myself. Emma would not look at anyone when she came out. She just curled into a ball on one of the chairs.

I told Dora I would call out to the house soon, and left.

When I got outside, Gerry Blaney was sitting on the bonnet of my Austin.

‘1981 Austin Allegro, Series 3 Saloon,’ he said, patting the bonnet. ‘Original fire orange finish – you have resisted the urge to paint go faster stripes on her – I commend your restraint. Hydraulic suspension, 1.31 engine capacity, has a round wheel rather than the square, quartic variety they tried to pilot. You take good care of her.’

‘I like her,’ I said. ‘She treats me well if I return the favour.’

‘How much do you want for her?’

‘She’s not for sale,’ I said.

‘Stop messing about. How much?’

‘You’re not listening,’ I said. ‘The car is not for sale. Not for any amount of money.’

‘Can I take her for a drive?’

‘No,’ I said, opening the door and getting behind the wheel.

Gerry came around and sort of leaned over (he didn’t need to bend down) to speak to me.

‘Those kids are in a right state, aren’t they?’

I didn’t answer. What he said was true, but I was not going to encourage him if I could help it. I didn’t like him or trust him.

‘You know Tom and me don’t see eye to eye, but I hate to see those little kids and their mother in such a mess. I know you have some experience in this area – sure hasn’t the school taken you on as some kind of consultant? Use your influence. Put this thing right.’

‘I couldn’t even if I wanted to, Gerry,’ I said. ‘As soon as social services came on board it was out of my hands, or anyone else’s. The kids are the state’s responsibility now.’

Gerry grinned and laughed. It was not a nice sound.

‘Eight hundred years ago, Garshaigh was part of a kingdom governed by Richard de Burgh. Henry III had given him the title of King of Connaught, but some of his lands were also in Munster, hence Garshaigh falling under his remit. So, he could have asserted his will over everyone in this town, and I’m sure at times he might even have done that. However, in the main, he left local decisions to be made by his local representatives.’

‘The Ponse de Blaneys,’ I guessed.

‘Precisely,’ he said. ‘Back then local problems were dealt with locally. Small towns have long memories. The old ways die hard, here. Maybe you should think about that before you go sticking your nose in where it isn’t needed or wanted.’

I leaned out so my face was very close to his.

‘I’m just a journalist for a local paper,’ I said. ‘Sending a few yokels out to frighten me is probably not going to get you in that much trouble. But, see, there are social workers involved now, and gardai. Taking a shot at them, now that will bring all kinds of hassle down on you. So if I were you, I’d keep
your
nose out. In case someone comes along and knocks it off.’

I started the engine and pressed the accelerator so he had to pull back quickly or get dragged beside the car. It was a childish move, but I enjoyed it tremendously.

The story was getting legs, and the legs were pumping furiously.

As the court date for the hearing on the will came closer, the national media got wind of the land war between the two powerful men: the eccentric farmer and his successful, entrepreneur brother. Robert Chaplin was asked to pen pieces for several national newspapers, and we received so many requests for radio interviews that we had to take turns fielding them. Robert even had to drive to Dublin to make some TV appearances, and the national station came to Garshaigh to do a report – Robert was asked to act as advisor on locations and to suggest some other local people for interviews.

My boss seemed to think all his Christmases had come at once. For a man who rarely smiled and generally looked as if he had just been given a stinging slap across the face, he strode about with a permanent smile plastered across his chops. He replaced his threadbare, shiny pinstripe with a new suit (still pinstripe, but cleaner) and even started talking to me again, which alleviated some of the tension about the office.

The child protection issues had been leaked by someone, but there was absolutely nothing any of us could say, for the simple reason that the children had not, as yet, been taken into care, and neither parent had been prosecuted or even charged with anything. Our line when asked about it was that we were unaware of any outstanding child protection issues in relation to the Blaney family, and could therefore not comment. Next question.

The fact was that the blend of big business, small-town politics and family drama, combined with a frisson of child abuse, created a story that was irresistible.