Too Hurt to Stay: The True Story of a Troubled Boy’s Desperate Search for a Loving Home

I shook my head. ‘You mean Artful Dodger, don’t you? I already thought that.’

‘Well, whatever,’ said Lauren. ‘But not for much longer.’

I laughed with them, of course, but I wasn’t sure I shared Lauren’s confidence. I mentally rolled my sleeves up. I’d just have to hope she was right.

Chapter 7 (#uc607c84b-48cb-547b-851d-0adaddac6dea)

I continued fretting about Kieron all the way to school. I knew I shouldn’t over-dramatise, but his reaction had unsettled me. His upset on hearing about Spencer’s latest antics had been a bit over the top, even for him. Much as I didn’t want to interfere or put him off, I sensed he had too much on his plate. What with managing his part-time job, and the youth-worker training, not to mention his determination to run this football team of his, I wondered if he was in danger of becoming overloaded. I really must, I told myself, as I waited for the school’s electronic gates to open, make some space to spend a little bit more time with him and Lauren. And that went for Riley and David as well, up to their eyes in work and looking after their little family. I’d been much too preoccupied since Spencer had arrived, and needed to focus my energies a little more on my own family.

Mr Gorman and his little charge were walking down the corridor, coincidentally, just as I arrived in reception. ‘Ah,’ said Mr Gorman, ‘I gather your son’s told you about our, erm, news?’

I nodded and looked at Spencer. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘what’s all this about, then?’

Spencer’s expression was defiant. ‘I never took ’em, Casey,’ he said. ‘I just found ’em in my bag when I looked in it. But they won’t believe me. They never do, this lot.’

‘Excuse me, young man, less of that talk,’ Mr Gorman said. He handed me an envelope. ‘It’s all in there,’ he said. ‘The necklace, plus the seven pounds in cash. What can I say? I suppose it’s best if I leave things with you now?’

‘Yeah,’ Spencer moaned. ‘So that means I get kept in again. Like I’m a pet, or something. I’m sick of this. No one ever believes me!’

He was still raging to himself as I steered him to the car, though once strapped into it he evidently decided it was pointless. His only words in response to my questioning were to insist again that he’d done nothing wrong.

Which was fine. It left my mind free to wander back to my own son. By the time I was home I had made up my mind. Sending Spencer to his room to get changed out of his uniform, I took my phone into the conservatory, along with one of my herbal cigarettes, and dialled John Fulshaw’s number.

‘Hi, Casey,’ he answered cheerfully. ‘How are things going, or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ I answered, ‘but since you have, I shall tell you.’ I then spent ten minutes recounting all Spencer’s latest misdemeanours, up to and including the latest pilfering. ‘Anyway,’ I concluded, ‘what I was ringing to ask was if it would be possible to arrange some respite care for the coming weekend. Just Friday, after school, round to the Monday would be great. I know we haven’t had him long yet, but …’

‘Casey, slow down, and stop worrying. There’s no need to justify yourself, you know that. I know he’s been extremely challenging. God, it might not have been long, but he’s certainly kept you busy. It’s no wonder at all that you feel you need a break.’

‘It’s not so much me,’ I said. God knew, I’d dealt with challenging children and then some over the years. ‘It’s the family, really. I feel they need more of a piece of me right now. Kieron’s got this new job, which is really stressing him out, and, well, as you know, Riley’s got a new baby and everything. It’s all just been a bit full on, really, just recently …’ I was rambling on a bit, but I sensed that was no bad thing anyway. It was necessary for John to know how much I needed this. And he clearly did.

‘Consider it done,’ he reassured me. ‘Well, as good as. I’ll have to speak to Spencer’s social worker, but I do have a couple who might do it. They’re at a loose end right now, so if they don’t have any plans …’

I uttered a silent thank you as I hung up the phone. I was confident John would come through with his promise. And if it couldn’t be this weekend, I was sure it would be the next one, which would be fine. It was just really important that Mike and I spend time with our children and grandchildren without Spencer – not to mention various belongings’ whereabouts – being the number one topic of conversation.

I’d just gone back into the kitchen when the boy himself trotted down, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and asked if it was okay to watch TV. It irked me slightly to say yes, given his latest misdemeanour, but this was using up points he’d already earned yesterday, so I had no choice: the system was the system. Initially it had felt like a flaw in the programme, but actually it wasn’t. It was one of its strengths. The whole point was that it put the child in control. Instead of heat-of-the-moment punishments, quickly administered, soon forgotten, the system of earning points allowed space to reflect. When a punishment came later – as would be the case with today’s pilfering – the child had the result of their actions better reinforced. As they sat bored without their privileges, as Spencer would do tomorrow, they could better appreciate the wisdom of thinking before acting, before potentially spoiling yet another day.

Having installed him in the living room I got on with pulling out the ingredients for tea, but it was only minutes later when the phone rang. It was John again.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Sorted. Pack him a bag for this weekend. It’s a Mr and Mrs Pemberton and they’re happy to take him straight after school. Glenn will collect him and deposit him, and all you have to do is go to pick him up late on Sunday, if that’ll work for you?’