Wednesday's Child (29 page)

The result was not instantaneous. I thought that the dogs would yelp and fall to the ground, trying to get their paws over their ears to block out the terrible noise, but they didn’t. To my great distress, they continued to run until they came to within a few feet of me, and then stopped, shaking their heads as if an insect were buzzing around them. Then, whining and sinking low to the ground, they slunk down to the far corner of the garden. I heaved a sigh of relief and took my finger off the button. They looked pretty cowed, and I didn’t want to cause them any more discomfort than I had to. I ran down to the house and peered through the window.

The pane of glass was thick with grime on both sides. I took a tissue from my pocket, spat to moisten it and made an island of transparency in the muck.
I heard a growl as one of the dogs regained some composure and began to crawl towards me. I gave them another burst.

The inside of the house had never been tidy or clean, but it was now a chaotic jumble, with tables and chairs overturned, cupboards hanging open and flies buzzing here and there in great clouds. I moved to another window and repeated the exercise of creating some visibility. There appeared to be no signs of human life at all, and there seemed to be faeces in clumps on the floor. Then I spotted Rex curled up on one of the armchairs. It seemed that Libby had given him free roam of the house and he had taken full advantage of it. I climbed over the boards and got around the back, which was really only a narrow passage between the rear wall of the house and a tall hedge of brambles and blackthorn. There was no evidence that Libby or Gillian had been there in weeks through these windows either. I made my way to the car and sat in. They weren’t home. They hadn’t been in a long time.

‘Shane?’

‘Gillian? Yes, yes, this is me. Where are you? I’ve been worried sick about you!’

‘I’m on the road back from Dublin. Shane, I’ve had enough of this. I don’t want to live this way any more. I’m sick of it. I want you to help me. I’ll … I’ll go back into care. Just come and get me. I’ll go wherever you say.’

I couldn’t believe it. I had not even started having conversations about care with Gillian. We had never got that far. It seemed that whatever had happened in the couple of months she and Libby had been on the road had prompted Gillian to make the leap all by herself. I silently raised my fist in the air. This was the call I had been waiting for. This was what all the work had been about.

‘Gillian, I am really, really pleased. Stay exactly where you are. What’s your number there?’

‘It’s a pay-phone. I can’t see any number on it.’

‘They’re usually on the wall behind the phone, where all the writing and information is. Can you see it?’

‘Yeah. Have you a pen?’

When I got off the phone, I just sat back at my desk, grinning from ear to ear. Finally, something had gone right. Josephine came into the office, a sheaf of paper in her hand.

‘That review for the Kellys … God, what’s up with you? You’re looking happy for a change. Are you sick or something?’

‘Just got a call from Gillian O’Gorman. She’s
asked
to be taken into care. I’m about to give Gráinne a ring to organise the bed. Isn’t that fucking great?’

Josephine smiled and sat down on the desk opposite me.

‘That’s really excellent news, Shane. I’m dead chuffed for you. It was a hard case to crack.’

‘It was, but now we can put her into a properly
equipped unit and get her the kind of help she really needs. I’m going to make that call.’

‘Fair enough. Talk to you later.’

I rang Gráinne Hartigan, who was as pleased as me, and told me to sit tight while she made the necessary arrangements. I got some coffee and was just back at my desk when the phone rang again.

‘Shane, bad news I’m afraid. There isn’t a single bed available just at the moment. We had a couple of emergency placements last night, and we’ve actually got children on camp beds in some of the units. She’ll have to wait for a bit.’

‘She can’t wait, Gráinne. You know what this means. This is the opportunity to help this child. I can’t ring her back and tell her we’ve nothing for her! That would be the end of my relationship with her. There would be no coming back. Gráinne, you told me that you could fix this!’

‘Well, in all fairness, Shane, it was
supposed to be a planned thing, with a little bit of notice. I’m not a magician, as much as everyone would like to think I am. I can’t just click my fingers and create a space. I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t believe it! This is so fucked up.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘At a pay-phone somewhere between here and Dublin. What am I supposed to tell her, Gráinne?’

‘You must tell her to go back to her mother.’

A great chasm opened up inside me, an emptiness that I thought would swallow me whole. I was supposed to be the good guy, the one that showed another path. Now I was pushing her right back into the unhappiness she was trying to flee. How much courage had it taken for her to run from her mother and call me? And I was sending her away.

‘Okay, Gráinne. I understand.’

I hung up.

My finger felt like it weighed one hundred pounds as I dialled the number Gillian had given me. Each ring before she answered cut a furrow through my head.

‘Shane, it’s me.’

‘Hey, Gillian.’ I heard the lightness in my voice and loathed myself for it. ‘Gill, I’m sorry, but there aren’t any places available in residential care this evening. Maybe in a day or two. Listen, you need to go back to your mum now, and give me a buzz tomorrow. I swear to you, I will turn the county upside down until I find something for you. I promise you that, and you know I don’t break my promises.’

Silence came down the line in a cascade.

‘Gillian, please talk to me.’

‘Yeah.’ Her voice was tiny and young and beaten. ‘Yeah, that’s okay, Shane. I’ll be in touch. I’m sure Mammy will come home soon. She misses the dogs, of course. Bye now.’

Click.

She was gone. I put my head in my hands and clenched my eyes tight shut against bleak reality. I had lost her. There was no use trying to pretend it wasn’t so. This was nobody’s fault. Gráinne was right
– I hadn’t been fair on her – the move
was
supposed to be planned, and it was ridiculous of me to expect that I could just make a call and have Gillian placed within a few hours. But how do you explain economics and cut-backs and management of resources to a frightened child with nowhere to go?

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit,’ I said, to no one in particular.

I had a cup of tea in my hand, but no stomach for it. Tea, tea, tea. Everywhere I went, people expected me to drink tea. I wrapped my coat more tightly around myself. It wasn’t my leather one, but a long, grey overcoat, not unlike a trenchoat. It was comforting. I hadn’t taken it off in a few days, and found that it made me feel a lot better to have it on. Kind of cocooned.

Cocoon. Wasn’t that a movie? That guy from the
Police Academy
films had been in it. Steve Guttenburgh, that was him. His career had sunk without a trace, hadn’t it? That movie had been about old people. You don’t see too many movies about old people, at least none that don’t have Walter Matthau in them. Walter Matthau was a good actor. Was. Had he died? I couldn’t remember.

‘Shane, wouldn’t you think that the McCoys would love it here?’

‘What?’

I was sitting in the kitchen of an old farmhouse in the early afternoon. Zara, a fostering social worker, was with me. She thought that she had identified a
family for the McCoys. A couple in late middle age sat before us, looking at me with a mix of concern and impatience. Having been built up as the main worker on the case, someone with a deep insight into these children, I had proceeded to contribute absolutely nothing to the conversation and to very obviously drift. I was finding it difficult to sustain my concentration for any length of time.

‘I’m sorry. Yes, yes I think they could be very happy here. You have a lovely home.’ I addressed the couple, Jim and Harriet Kenneally. ‘Are you quite certain that you don’t mind taking
three
children? It’s a huge undertaking, and they’ve been through an extremely traumatic time. It won’t all be plain sailing. There will be resistance, from all of them.’

‘We had four of our own, Mr Dunphy,’ Harriet said. ‘They’ve grown up and moved on. They come home of course, to visit, but they’re dispersed across the globe and we’re knocking around in this big house. I miss the sound of children. I think that we can give a good home to these kids.’

Zara nodded and scribbled something down in her notebook.

‘There will be a fostering course. You’ll be able to facilitate me in doing that with you?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ said Jim.

‘Then the Fostering Panel will have to meet to agree the placement. This is by no means definite.’

‘We understand. Every precaution must be taken to ensure they’re right for us, and we for them.’

‘I’ll arrange for a visit next week,’ Zara continued. ‘Let’s see how you all get along together.’

‘We’ll look forward to it.’

I stood with Zara at the cars in the broad cobbled yard. A verdant field spread before us as far as either of us could see. Four beautiful horses gambolled there. I knew that there were more behind the great house in stables and other pastures the family owned.

‘What d’you think?’

‘I think they’re a gift. But they’ve got their work cut out for them. The children have all fallen back on old patterns of behaviour. Cordelia is playing the mother and I’m damned if I can get through to her. Victor’s just turned right in on himself again, and Ibar might as well be on some other planet. It’s a hell of a lot to put on those two old dears.’

‘Don’t underestimate them, Shane. They’ve hidden depths, I think. And look at this place. I wish they’d foster me!’

‘All we can do is hope it works out. How long will the course take?’

‘Well, I’m pulling out the stops here. I should have it done in six weeks. They’re prepared to work quickly.’

‘Let me know how it goes. God knows, the McCoys are due a break.’

‘Aren’t we all!’

‘Yes. We certainly are.’

‘And will either of them make official statements? Will this Mrs Jones speak to the police?’

‘No.’

‘Do you have any new evidence at all beyond this interview and disclosure?’

‘No.’

‘No addresses of places the children were taken to? Dates? Names of alleged abusers?’

‘No.’

Josephine had her back to me, looking out the window of her office. When she spoke it was in muted tones. She didn’t like what she had to tell me any more than I did.

‘Connie was put into care before because of confirmed evidence of sexual abuse.
Physical evidence
. She did not wish to remain there. After this two-week absence you’ve latched on to, another medical examination
was
performed. There was no sign of her having had sexual intercourse, no bruising, no traces of semen. It doesn’t add up. And there are small inconsistencies in the stories. Little things, but they’re there nonetheless. I’m not sure what you want us to do with this.’

‘I’m not sure either. She’s telling the truth. I know she’s telling the truth.’

‘She may well be. But there’s a Supervision Order on the child. The parents and Mick are subject to a good deal of psychiatric intervention. Beyond that, I don’t see that I can do much more. I wish I could be more positive.’

‘So do I.’

‘Shane, everyone who has ever worked on the case has known that there was unbelievable deprivation and abuse going on in that family. It has been an accepted fact for decades. But you’re a professional – you know the score. We
cannot
plough in there with accusations and presumptions and half-arsed stories from an old woman, no matter how sensational and frightening they are. I’m sorry, Shane. We just can’t.’

‘I know.’

She turned and there was concern on her face.