Little Prisoners (20 page)

‘Got your list?’ Mike asked, as we parked the car in the school car park. He’d booked a half-day’s leave from work to attend with me. I didn’t know then what a big thing this would be – he didn’t always – I was just glad to have him with me so we could present a united front. And I was feeling pretty positive about things anyway.

‘Sure have,’ I said, waving it across the roof of the car as I climbed out. I had made a point of dressing smartly (as had Mike) – power dressing, if you like – as I wanted to impress upon the people that were present that we were professionals, and that our views needed hearing. ‘And you know what?’ I continued. ‘Now I’ve written it all down, it’s really made me focus on how much progress they’ve made. I really feel quite proud of them, to be honest.’

‘And so you should be,’ Mike said, squeezing my shoulder as we set off across the car park and into school. ‘I mean, I know we’re still battling with some pee and poo problems, but when you compare how they are now to how they were when they first came to us … I almost wish we’d taken photos – you know – before and after. Easy to forget that they were practically feral! So you have every right to be proud, love.’

‘And you too,’ I reminded him, as we entered.

I don’t know if it was a case of pride coming before a fall, but I did go into that meeting feeling we’d been doing a
good job. The fact that there was so much still to do didn’t matter. I had a spring in my step and I expected it to stay there. And now we had Dr Shackleton and Julia Styles on board too, I even thought it might get a little springier.

But that was before the meeting started.

Barbara, the school receptionist, who I’d known a long time, was the one to greet us. ‘Coffee and biscuits right there,’ she said, pointing. ‘Then just head on in. Everyone’s in there.’

We did as requested and entered a room full of people. I’d been to lots of LAC reviews and this one was a biggie, and as we took the seats John Fulshaw had reserved for the two of us, I scanned the room, seeing some unfamiliar faces. There were the expected ones, John and Anna, of course, and a quartet of school officers I recognised – the head of school, the school nurse, the family support worker and nurture room teacher – but also three people that I didn’t. It was the first of these, Emma, the reviewing officer, who introduced the others, who turned out to be the head of the children’s previous primary school, and a young woman who, we were told, was a teaching assistant there. They’d been asked along, Emma told us, because as the children’s previous teachers, it was felt that their input and insights might be valuable.

Introductions over, Emma then went around the group, soliciting input, which Mike and I kicked off, outlining where the children had made improvements, but also reiterating how important we continued to feel it was that they get some sort of counselling as a matter of urgency.
I also added that, having spoken to Julia the previous week, I was pleased to see that the school were like-minded in this regard, in terms of urgent assessment of their special educational needs, probable statementing (the process of formally giving children a statement of special educational needs) and resultant extra support, so they could be placed within the right learning environment.

So far, I thought, once I’d said my piece, so good. With Julia behind me – she had nodded and murmured approval throughout – I felt we might finally see a bit more action. And so far the rest of the attendees had listened passively. It was only when the staff at the current school began relating their update that I felt the first stirrings of an atmosphere developing.

It seemed there was a theme developing, too, as, one by one, all the staff had their say, all expressing concern about the hindrance to progress as a result of the fact that the kids’ ‘very obvious’ difficulties had not been picked up on before.

‘Olivia’s use of language and slightly strange ways, for example,’ Julia said.

‘Can you elaborate?’ Emma wanted to know.

Julia could. ‘She uses some strange language,’ she said. ‘And has a slightly odd manner and general demeanour. Then there are the bouts of hyperactivity, and the bouts of arm flapping that often accompany it. These are clearly longstanding behaviours that have become reinforced over time and need addressing as a priority. I also wonder if she
needs her medication reassessed, as the ADHD is clearly still a factor.’

Next up was the school nurse, who expressed her agreement, but was able to add a positive about both children’s weight gain, which had, since they’d been with us, come along nicely, with both of them being now within the correct boundaries for their age.

Emma duly noted all this down, together with Anna’s testimony that the council were doing all they could to find permanent placements, as well as outlining their decision to split Ashton from Olivia, and why. This still upset me, of course, even though I understood the reasoning, and I had by now come to accept, however sadly, that the truth was that we didn’t live in a utopia.

But the sadness was suppressed by a warm glow of positivity as John rounded up that part of the meeting.

‘I think we can all agree,’ he said, smiling in Mike and my direction, ‘that the Watsons – who, I might add, were only supposed to have these two very short term – have been doing an exemplary job. And that’s
without
the support they could have done with,’ he added. ‘As you all know, as temporary carers, they have no input from CAMHS, so apart from the support of the school, which has been excellent, they really have been going it alone.’

Was it that, I wondered afterwards, that so rankled with the other teachers? All I knew was that from that point on things became unpleasant. We moved straight on, then, to looking at an action plan for the immediate future, and it was at this point that the two of them were asked to
contribute, to add their insight into the root of the children’s problems. But we were all in for something of a shock.

I’d spoken briefly to Julia, of course, about the lack of documentation she’d been sent, but it seemed that was the tip of the iceberg.

The children’s previous headmaster, Mr Moore, cleared his throat noisily, and proceeded to make something of a speech. ‘I’m very pleased we’ve been asked to come here today,’ he began. ‘Because the extended family have been known to our school for a long time, and this latest pair did and do mean a lot to us. We taught both of them, right from reception class on and, as I say, knew the family extremely well. Educationally,’ and here he paused and scanned the faces around the table, ‘I must say I am surprised by what I’ve heard here today. According to
our
records, and from what I remember of the children personally, both children were perfectly capable at school. We never had problems with them.’

You could have heard a pin drop at that point, which I felt sure was what he intended, such was the tone of his words. I glanced at Julia, whose expression of shock mirrored mine. ‘Really?’ she said, her professional hackles up now. ‘I have to say, I am somewhat surprised at that. We have conducted a lot of tests and are a hundred per cent certain that both children have a degree of learning disability. We will, of course, bring in the educational psychologist to re-affirm this, but they definitely require learning support.’

Had a pin dropped now, it would still make a clatter in the ensuing silence, as Mr Moore turned to his assistant. ‘Well, Ann here,’ he said, gesturing to the now nervous-looking woman sitting beside him, ‘is the teaching assistant attached to the classes of both Ashton and Olivia and she assures me –’ he smiled and she bobbed her head slightly – ‘that there was never a problem with the children. They were always hard-working, quiet and friendly. There was nothing to suggest they needed extra support. The only worry we
did
have, was for Olivia and her rather “quaint” ways.’

‘Which wasn’t documented,’ Julia shot back immediately.

‘If you’ll let me
finish
,’ Mr Moore said. ‘I was going to say that we were about to bring in a therapist when the children were removed from the school. But apart from that, we saw no evidence to concern us.’

‘That’s right,’ added Ann, who appeared to have found her voice now. ‘They were always adequately presented, and –’

It was at this point that perhaps she wished she hadn’t.

‘Adequately
presented
?!’ This was Mike, who, up to now, had been silent, but his voice was as explosive as it was sudden. I could see he was aghast. ‘
Adequately presented
? Are we talking about the same family here? These are kids that were brought to us without any clothing to speak of, filthy dirty, heads ridden with lice! They the ones? Oh, and covered in scabies, too. The same kids, right?’

I placed my hand over Mike’s on the table. He was livid – that was clear – and I could understand why. These people
who professed to know these children so well didn’t seem to know them at
all
. Could they even bring them to mind now? I seriously doubted it. I decided to speak before my husband blew a gasket.

‘Mike’s right,’ I said, trying to keep my voice level. ‘And, actually, our records indicate that the school –
your
school –’ I looked pointedly at Mr Moore here – ‘had sent a report to social services, saying pretty much the same. That they were unkempt most of the time, and hungry as well. And that they’d been caught stealing food from other children’s lunch boxes, and the school rubbish bins, too, as I recall. Also, as far as their learning capacity goes, we all believe –’ I glanced at Julia here, and she nodded – ‘that they are at least a couple of years behind their peers. At
least
.’

Ann, the teaching assistant, smiled at me sweetly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Watson,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t realise you were a teacher.’

I hated that it happened, but I felt my cheeks redden, as the sarcasm in her voice reached my ears.

‘Actually, Ms Phelps,’ I said, glancing at her name on the agenda, my heart beginning to thump against my ribcage, ‘I
do
have a teaching degree, if that’s any of your business. But that’s irrelevant to what I’m telling you about these children. You don’t need a teaching qualification to back up what I’m saying, which is that these children clearly have problems which have been manifest for
years
.’

I was fuming. I had no idea why this woman so had it in for me. I’d never met her, never slighted her. What was
going
on
here? Was it just because the children had been removed from their school? Was
that
it?

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mr Moore again, filling the space his assistant’s shocked silence had created. ‘But I, um, we, have to disagree with your evaluation. And I’d like it to be noted that, as a school, we feel that if the children have now deteriorated, then maybe … well, maybe the current carers have let that side of things slide somewhat.’

Mike slammed his hands down on the table so hard that I almost jumped out of my skin. ‘How DARE you!’ he railed at the head teacher. ‘How dare you! How dare you insinuate that we don’t know our job! I tell you what, mate, if
you
had done your job properly, these kids might have been spared one hell of a lot of suffering and grief! In my opinion,
you
have contributed to that, you hear me?’ He turned to me then. ‘Are you okay, love?’ His face was grey.

I was on the verge of tears now. So stunned by what had happened that I couldn’t speak. Had the man actually said that? That
we
had made the children deteriorate? It was as ridiculous a suggestion as I’d heard in my life, but, even so, I felt cornered. Judged. In the headlights. How could he even suggest such a thing?

John stood up. He looked every bit as shocked as I felt. ‘Emma,’ he said. ‘Would you mind if we called a halt? Ten minutes, okay? I’d like to have a word with Mike and Casey.’

She nodded, looking relieved, and the three of us trooped out.

Out in the corridor, Mike was as angry as ever. ‘Honestly, Case, I could go right back in there and … God! I can’t believe what they’re trying to insinuate!’

John nodded his agreement. ‘Mike, I’m as gobsmacked as you are. But you know how these things can get – emotions run high. Everyone’s under pressure. Things get heated … You okay, Casey?’

I nodded. ‘I’m fine. I’m just furious! How could he? And that
woman
! And after everything we’ve done for the kids! What the hell is her agenda? She sat right through the bloody meeting! She heard what was said. How can she come out with that? Honestly, John, I felt like slapping her one!’

‘I could see that,’ said Mike, making a concerted effort to calm down. He managed a thin smile. ‘Which is why I thought I’d better step in for you.’

Seeing Mike regaining his temper reminded me I should do likewise. There was nothing to be gained by getting so het up. I took a deep breath and let it stream out through my nostrils.

‘I’m okay now,’ I said. ‘I’m just fine.’

‘Well, I’m not!’ said John. ‘Look, you just say the word, Casey, and I’ll go right on back in there, this very minute, and tell them that’s that. Placement over. I won’t have any member of my team spoken to in that fashion! Just say the word and I’ll go back and tell the whole bloody lot of them that that’s it. That you’ve had enough. That you won’t be spoken to like that. That they’ll have to find an emergency placement elsewhere.
Today
!’

‘John, come on. It wasn’t really Anna’s fault –’ I began.

He shook his head. ‘Makes no difference. She should have spoken up for you.
I
should have spoken up for you.’

Mike put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on. You hardly had a chance, John.’

‘Even so, I should have. Honestly, both of you, just say the word. If you’ve had enough, just say. I’ll go and tell them.”

I looked at Mike. Mike looked back. We didn’t need to say anything. I had no idea how such a bizarre conversation had come about. But one thing was for sure. On the strength of what had clearly come before, these kids needed people like us in their corner. ‘No way,’ I said firmly. ‘No
way
.’