Wednesday's Child (14 page)

‘I see what they mean by “distress”,’ I said. ‘It’s six siblings we’re dealing with, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah. It’s been building all week. This will be their first weekend in the refuge. They were all in temporary foster placements, but those broke down. We thought that they’d do better together, but they just seem to be setting each other off.’

‘It’s another change. They’ve only just been taken into care. No matter how bad home was, that’s going to be stressful. They were separated, so they act up and cause a stink. That breaks down and they all get moved here, which is stressful again. They’re testing you, Melanie. How do they know you won’t move them back home or start beating up on them or abusing them, just like whatever happened to them at home? You need to be watching out for the triggers. What are the things that set them off?’

‘Everything seems to set them off at the moment! It’s just been a tough week for everyone here.’

‘I know how they feel. What ages have we got?’

‘Three years up to fourteen.’

‘Okay. Good broad range there. Let’s go to it.’

We walked up a narrow set of stairs to a door with a key-pad outside it. Melanie punched in a code and we were inside the refuge proper. There was a hallway before us with doors leading off on each side, four in all. A flight of stairs led off to our left. Shouts and screams came from every direction. Out of the door at the very end of the hallway stormed a girl who looked to be around fourteen. She stopped dead in
her tracks when she saw Melanie and me. This pause did not last for long, because in a second she turned on her heel and stomped back the way she had come, shouting: ‘There’s a fucking man in here! There’s not supposed to be men allowed in here!’

‘Why is it that I always seem to get that reaction?’ I asked Melanie as we headed down the hall.

‘Oh, it’s your charisma. You’re such a charmer.’

‘You say the nicest things.’

The fourteen-year-old was standing in the centre of the room, screaming a torrent of abuse at a middleaged woman with short dark hair, who was doing her best to reason with her in a gentle tone that was being drowned out by the adolescent’s tirade. A little girl of about three was sitting on the floor among a scattered array of toys, sobbing and rocking.

‘And look now. She’s brought him in here! You told me that there’d be no men!’

I heaved a deep sigh, and clapped my hands hard. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the room and silenced the girl immediately. Even the child on the floor stopped rocking and looked at me open-mouthed.

‘Could we stop shouting, please,’ I said pleasantly. ‘My name is Shane and I am a childcare worker. Whether I am a man or a woman is not important. Look at your sister, how upset she is. Let’s all calm down and try to —’

The sound of thundering footsteps was heard as the other children realised that something was
happening downstairs. Before I could get another word out, four children, three girls and a boy, exploded through the door in a barrage of noise and bluster.

‘What’s he doin’ here?’

‘Who the fuck is he? Babs, what’s he doin’ here?’

‘I don’t believe this shit!’

‘Let’s fuckin’ kill’em!’

Like a tidal wave, the volume erupted again and I saw that shock tactics and diversion would not work here. We had a long afternoon of work ahead of us if we were to settle these children.

‘Any suggestions?’ I asked Melanie as another woman came in, looking flushed and befuddled.

‘Mary Jeffries,’ she said, smiling meekly and offering me her hand. ‘Thanks for coming.’

‘Well, when my friend and colleague Melanie asked me so nicely, how could I refuse?’

The fourteen-year-old aimed a slap at my ear, and I raised my hand and deflected it. The boy, who looked to be about eight, tried to kick me. I side-stepped.

‘I think we should try and separate them. They’re totally unmanageable when they’re like this and all together,’ Melanie said, scooping up the three-year-old and handing her to me. ‘Take Tina and Josh (she motioned at the eight-year-old boy, who was trying to pull a cupboard door off its hinges, probably to use as a weapon) and bring them upstairs. There’s a worker up there, so you won’t be on your own.’

I nodded and took Josh gently by the arm.

‘C’mon. We’re going to have a look upstairs.’

He turned and sank his teeth into my arm. My leather jacket took the brunt of it. I left him that way and half-steered, half-carried him out the door. Getting him upstairs was a struggle, because he went limp on the steps, lying there and refusing to move. Tina started to cry again and to struggle in my arms. I stopped trying to pull him up the stairwell and thought about what would be the most sensible approach to the problem. I left him there and ran up the stairs with Tina, finding the staff member and handing the child to her. Tina began to wail with gusto, but I figured that the staff member could handle it for a few minutes, and I went back to where I had left the boy. He was, of course, gone. I found him in a room near the entry door, where Mary was trying to comfort a little girl who looked to be five years old. The child was screeching inconsolably and flatly refusing to entertain any of Mary’s overtures.

‘C’mon, Lindsay. We’ll sit down and have some tea and bickies and a wee chat, eh?’

‘
No!
’

This negative exclamation was accompanied by a scream of such ferocity that I even saw Josh jump. He laughed to himself then, though, and launched himself right at Mary’s leg, grasping her around the thigh and knocking her sideways. Lindsay turned and fled from the room, wailing profusely. Mary and Josh were a bundle of arms and legs on the floor. I covered the distance to them in a couple of steps and grabbed the boy around the waist, heaving him off the social
worker and carrying him bodily from the room, his legs kicking, his arms lashing at my sides and a litany of invective pouring from him.

Getting him up the stairs without overbalancing was not an easy job. He was thrashing from side to side and when he realised that my falling was a possibility, he began to rock with even more ferocity, singing ‘rock the boat’ merrily to himself as he did so. I made it to the top and was about to relax when he went limp again, which meant I had to adjust my centre of gravity to keep my balance. When I did this, he grabbed the wall with both hands, and shoved backwards, attempting to push us both back down the stairs. I managed to just stop myself from falling by letting him go with one hand and catching hold of the bannister with the other. He giggled maniacally and began to use his head to thump me in the ribcage. I hefted him under my arm and moved up the corridor in a rush, dumping him on the couch in the room where the worker was cradling Tina. Thankfully Josh had worn himself out and stayed there, inert and panting. Tina seemed to have settled a bit, and was looking at me from huge blue eyes and sucking ferociously on a pacifier. Her pudgy face was tear-streaked and she was hicking from her recent crying session. My heart went out to her. She was far too young to have to experience misery like this.

The worker was a young woman who looked to be no more than twenty. She seemed to be shell-shocked by the week she had had.

‘I only started here two weeks ago. I’ve never seen anything like this before!’ she told me as I took Tina from her and we both eyed Josh warily. ‘I didn’t know that kids could be like this.’

‘They’ve had a tough few weeks. They’ll settle down. Don’t be put off. You’ve probably seen the worst of it.’

Tina nestled into my chest and began to doze. I sensed something and realised that Josh was looking at me with intense hatred.

‘Hurt her and I’ll fucking rip your guts out.’

‘I’m not going to hurt her, Josh. Did I hurt you?’

‘You’re too scared of me. They’re all scared of me. I’m fucking mad, I am. I’ll take’em all on.’

‘I’m not scared of you, Josh. You’re frightened and angry and hurting. I know you just want to protect your sisters, but you don’t have to here. No one will hurt any of you.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Shane.’

‘Shane the pain. Shane with no brain.’

‘Knock yourself out. I’ve heard them all. I could probably give you a few you couldn’t think of.’

‘I bet you love little kids. Want to ride us, do you?’

‘No. I’ve heard that before too. You’ve probably had some nasty experiences with other guys. I’m not like that. But you have to learn that for yourself. It’s okay to be mad at me right now. There isn’t anyone else to be mad at.’

‘Shut up!’ he screamed suddenly and stood up.
‘Just shut up! You’re not my daddy! He’d fucking kill you if he saw you now with Tina. Let her go!’

He lunged for me again but I turned and he bounced off my shoulder and grabbed a fistful of my hair. Countless times I’ve wondered why I keep my hair long in this line of work. I should have tied it back when I knew there would be violence, but I didn’t think of it. He pulled for all he was worth, and I felt my hair ripping at the roots. Then the worker was on him and he was fighting and swearing at her. She managed to dump him on the couch again and he sat there panting.

My mind was racing, looking for any way to defuse the situation. The refuge was not equipped for this. To properly restrain Josh would need at least two specially trained childcare workers. Melanie and I could do it, but she had her hands full downstairs. If I had a clear area and some mats, I could allow him to try and wrestle me and get it out of his system that way, once there was another worker present to see I was not hurting him or touching him inappropriately, but there was no such area. Some centres in which I had worked would simply have stuck Josh in a padded room until he had calmed down. I was desperately trying to think of something that the refuge might have that would help comfort this child. Suddenly, I had it.

‘Do you have a PlayStation here?’

Josh looked up sharply.

‘Why?’

‘Because I feel like kicking your arse on it, that’s why.’

There are certain things that are expected of the few males who go into childcare work. Most of us are expected to do the stereotypical things like taking kids to soccer and playing kick-about in the garden. We’re expected to do things like carpentry. We’re expected to love video games. As it so happens, I like none of the above, which has often proved a major disappointment to employers who have taken me on as the token male in the mistaken belief that I will fulfil these criteria.

In this instance, however, I thought that a bit of bravado would serve me well. Here was a way he could channel his aggression appropriately, and because I am absolutely appalling at these games, he would actually win convincingly without ever suspecting I was going easy on him. I am so spectacularly bad that no kid ever thinks I’m faking it.

Five minutes later we were seated in the TV and games room with a car-racing game playing. Josh seemed to have forgotten his anger and was explaining carefully the ins and outs of the game, giving a demonstration so I could see particular tricks and potential pitfalls to the track he had chosen for us. Tina was fast asleep on the worker’s knee, and the worker herself seemed to be entering into a catatonic state now that an island of peace and sanity had been established in the refuge. Sounds of distress still filtered through to us, but they seemed to be lessening.
Josh’s demo lasted a full twelve minutes (he was an expert on the game, having done little else when not wreaking havoc over the past week), and by the time I was given a joy-pad, he was in reasonably good humour.

He won the first couple of games, but I learned fast and gave him a run for his money in the third. He looked quite impressed and even patted me gently on the back by way of congratulation. As we began the fourth game, Melanie came in, trailed by Babs, the fourteen-year-old.

‘Well, I see you two are getting on fine.’

‘Yeah …’ Josh’s tone was defensive, and I flashed Melanie a look to impress on her the delicate balance of our new-found relationship.

‘Okay then. I’ll leave you to it.’

Lindsay wailed past the door, with Mary still trailing after her, imploring her to have some tea and biscuits. Seconds later, Mary stuck her head in the door, looking close to tears herself.

‘Mel, the lass doesn’t want to talk to me. I’ve been following her around for more than an hour. Give her some time to settle herself. She can’t keep it up much longer.’