3.47 p.m.
‘Leanne Neilson’s boyfriend has just been done for assault,’ says Tessa. It’s casual, as if she’s telling me it’s going to rain later.
I look up over rectangular glasses, fingers tightening around my biro. ‘Oh no. What? When?’
‘It was in the newspapers. Didn’t you see?’
‘No. I don’t read the news. I have enough drama at work.’
Tessa snorts. ‘Too right! You’ll need to speak to the Child Protection Unit. John Simmons is the one you want.’
‘I’ve already spoken to him. After Lloyd put Pauly in hospital. We’re still working out next steps. I’ll call him again.’
‘How did the Tom Kinnock visit go?’
‘I haven’t had time to make the visit yet.’
‘I suppose he isn’t in any immediate danger.’
‘Actually, there’s been a report from the Radley Road dropin centre—’
‘It shouldn’t have even been transferred over to us.’ Tessa raises her voice to drown me out. ‘They should have shut it down at the London end. The father has supervised visits. It’s done and dusted. Get it off the books and you’ll be down to thirty cases.’
‘No, listen,’ I say. ‘There’s been new information. From a nurse at the Radford Road drop-in centre. The information came late, just like everything else around here. The drop-in centre is overworked too. Anyway, the nurse found marks on Tom’s arm a few days ago – the sort you get from an injection needle. The mother thinks it happened at Steelfield School.’
‘Surely not.’ Tessa narrows her eyes. ‘Are you certain you’re not getting the records mixed up? You said yourself they were a mess.’
‘I’ve spoken to the nurse.’
‘Well, if you don’t tackle the Neilsons today, you’ll be on a disciplinary, I’m telling you. It’s got statutory obligation written all over it.’
‘But Tom Kinnock has suspected needle marks,’ I say. ‘If I have to work late, I’ll work late. He needs a section forty-seven—’
‘Risk of significant harm?’ Tessa snorts. ‘Over a few pin pricks? What if he did them himself with a biro? Listen, Kate. You’re young. New here. But you need to prioritise. Or you’ll burn out, just like Dawn and Kirsty. They worked late every night too, you know.’
‘All the children in my caseload are important,’ I say. ‘I can’t choose one over another.’
‘You’ll learn.’ Tessa slots a tablet into her Nespresso machine and waits while hot water steams and bubbles.
She has never once offered me a cup of tea or coffee, despite me making her countless cappuccinos.
‘I should talk to Tom’s teacher,’ I say.
‘I wouldn’t bother,’ says Tessa. ‘Parents always blame the school, the doctor, the child minder – anyone they can think of. But look at the facts.’
‘I can’t totally rule out the school,’ I say. ‘I’ve heard odd things about Steelfield from Pauly and Lloyd Neilson. The headmaster doesn’t sound quite right.’
‘Those Neilson boys are trying to blame the school too. I told you, they all do it.’
‘So how could Tom Kinnock have got needle marks?’
‘Maybe he’s a self-harmer,’ Tessa suggests. ‘He’s come out of a messy divorce, hasn’t he? Angry father. Lots of stress. Listen – the Neilsons are your priority. I’m telling you, if that mother overdoses with the boys in the house, there’ll be national press coverage. We’ll be shaken upside down for it. Disciplinary hearings, left, right and centre. The new government even want prison sentences.’
‘I can’t ignore this drop-in centre report either. We’ll be shaken up and down for that too. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.’
‘Welcome to the public sector. You can’t do it all, Kate. You just can’t. Take it from someone who knows. Any minute now, your phone will ring and you’ll have to deal with some emergency or other.’
Tessa stalks off towards the doughnuts. She grabs two, taking a big bite of one as she walks away. Tessa is on a diet today, but she seems to think food eaten with her back to people doesn’t count.
A sad part of me knows Tessa is right about prioritising. If I keep working like this, I’ll end up with chronic fatigue like Kirsty.
I’m about to book the Tom Kinnock visit into the computer diary when the phone rings.
It’s Lloyd Neilson, calling from Leanne’s mobile. Leanne has locked herself in the bathroom. Lloyd is worried she might have taken another overdose. He’s distraught, crying and hysterical.
‘Please … help us, Kate. Please.’
This is a side of Lloyd most people don’t see. He loves his mum, despite the fact she couldn’t care less about him. And he loves his brothers too, even though he occasionally beats the living daylights out of them.
I listen to Lloyd, while simultaneously attempting to book the Tom Kinnock appointment into the diary.
Then my screen goes black.
The system has gone down again.
‘Bloody buggering hell!’ Tessa shouts from her office. ‘When are they going to upgrade this software? That’s just what we need. A lost day of work.’
I stare at the blank screen, resisting the urge to pick up the computer and throw it out the window.
Calm down, Kate. You can’t damage office equipment. We don’t have enough resources as it is.