5.46 p.m.
‘Will you get us fish and chips then?’ Lloyd asks. ‘Joey. Get off!’
Joey is hanging onto Lloyd’s leg, giggling helplessly.
I’m in the Neilsons’ kitchen and have just found animal droppings in the cereal cupboard, plus a chewed hole in a box of Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes.
Pauly’s little face appears in the doorway, looking hopeful. ‘Fish and chips?’
‘Well, we can’t have cereal,’ says Lloyd. ‘There was vermin. That is unsuitable.’
Vermin. Unsuitable. It’s astonishing how Lloyd has picked up the social services language, aged eleven.
‘Are you getting us fish and chips, Kate?’ Joey asks from Lloyd’s leg.
‘I can’t leave you alone.’
‘But Mum does it all the time.’
‘Well, she shouldn’t.’
‘You’re shit, Kate,’ says Joey simply.
‘You have to give us something,’ says Lloyd, volume rising. ‘Joey, get off!’ He shakes his little brother onto the carpeted kitchen floor.
I’ve never seen carpet in a kitchen before. I now understand the hygienic power of lino like never before.
‘I can’t leave three young boys unsupervised.’
‘But we’re starving!’ Lloyd bellows.
‘You’ll have to wait until your mum gets home.’
‘And when will that be? She won’t be back today. I couldn’t get any meds for her.’
My head flicks around. ‘What?’
Lloyd, clearly realising he’s said the wrong thing, heads into the living room and throws himself onto a leather sofa.
I follow him, finding Pauly with his nose inches from the giant flat-screen, watching zombies kill each other.
‘I’m glad you brought that up, Lloyd,’ I say. ‘That’s something we need to talk about. The tablets.’
Lloyd feigns innocence. ‘What tablets? I was just joking.’
‘The tablets the caretaker said you had. Those tablets. The tablets the police couldn’t find. The ones your headmaster says you’ve stolen from the school before.’
Lloyd’s expression contorts with rage. ‘Fucking Cockface. Lying fucking Cockface.’
‘Lloyd, just tell me the truth.’
‘I already told you. I never got those tablets from the medicine cabinet.’
‘So you did have tablets?’
‘I got given them by a kid in Pauly’s class.’
‘Lloyd!’ Pauly yells. ‘That’s my best mate.’ He hurls himself at his brother, all elbows and fists.
Lloyd calmly picks Pauly up and throws him onto the sofa.
‘Are you saying …’ I pause, choosing my words carefully. ‘You’re saying a child in Pauly’s class gives you his medicine? Prescription medicine?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And do you, by any chance, throw the empty bottles at the back of the school field?’
‘Have you been spying on me?’
‘Social workers know everything,’ I say.
Lloyd snorts with laughter. ‘No they don’t. Half the time, they don’t even spell my name right.’
‘And that child,’ I say, knowing I’m on dangerous ground, professionally speaking. ‘Would that child in Pauly’s class be Tom Kinnock?’
‘She’s Tom’s social worker too, Lloyd,’ whispers Pauly. ‘He must have grassed you up.’
Lloyd balls his fists. ‘I’ll kill him, the little shit.’
‘He didn’t say a word to me,’ I say. ‘I worked it out. Why would Tom Kinnock give his medicine to you?’
‘Because I ask him to.’
‘Ask? Do you mean threaten?’
‘I ask. It’s not my fault if kids are scared of me.’
‘So, what would happen if he didn’t give you this medicine?’
‘I’d … well, we’d have to have a talk, wouldn’t we?’
I’m wide awake now, despite being extremely tired, and it’s hard not to rush out questions. ‘Have you ever met Tom Kinnock’s father? His name is Olly.’
‘No,’ says Lloyd.
‘You’re sure? He’s never come into the school or anything like that?’
‘Tom wants to see his dad,’ says Pauly. ‘He told me. But his mum won’t let him.’
Lloyd’s eyes narrow. ‘Should you be asking me about other social worker kids? Isn’t that un-pro-fession-al?’
He’s a much brighter boy than the teachers give him credit for.
‘Let’s talk about you, then,’ I say. ‘Why would you take medicine from this boy, Lloyd?’
‘The doctors won’t give our mum enough meds,’ Joey pipes up. ‘So Lloyd gets them for her. And sometimes he takes them too.’
‘Joey.’ Lloyd turns to him, fists clenched, then leaps on his younger brother.
Not one to miss a fight, Pauly jumps into the punches, trying to defend little Joey from Lloyd’s hard fists.
As tough as Pauly is, he’s no match for Lloyd, who easily throws him across the room, then sits on him and starts punching his face.
‘Stop!’ I try to grab Lloyd, but he’s strong.
I’m not really sure what happens next, but suddenly I’m on the floor and Lloyd is standing over me, fists clenched.
‘Fuck off. Just fuck off.’
Little Joey jumps on him, arms around his neck, screaming, ‘Lloyd, don’t. Don’t. She’ll put you in prison.’
I get to my feet. ‘Lloyd Neilson, sit down right now.’
My jaw stings – I think I caught a punch somewhere along the line.
Lloyd doesn’t sit down. Instead, he starts pacing the room like a caged dog.
Pauly watches him, looking worried.
Joey is crying.
In training, I was told to exit any situation that gets physical, for my own safety. I think that’s what the boys expect me to do. But I can’t leave them. They haven’t even had dinner.
‘Listen.’
Three faces turn to me.
‘What are you still doing here?’ Lloyd asks. ‘Leave. Go on. Grass me up to whoever.’
‘I’m going to get you some fish and chips,’ I say. ‘And when I come back, I want you all calm. Okay? Lloyd, you need to sit down.’
Pauly nods rapidly.
Joey says, ‘Yesss!’
Lloyd glares.
‘Okay, Lloyd?’ I say, my voice sterner.
‘Lloyd,’ Joey whispers. ‘She’s gonna get us fish and chips. Say yes or you’ll go to prison.’
Lloyd looks at his shoes. ‘All right then.’
‘All right, what?’
‘All right, sorry.’ Lloyd sits on the sofa.
‘Lloyd, forget Tom Kinnock for a moment. The headmaster says you’ve stolen medicine from the school before. I need to know if that’s true.’
‘Fucking Cockface. I don’t tell, he don’t tell. He promised. Adults are all liars.’
I turn to Joey and Pauly. ‘You two – upstairs. Right now.’
The boys exchange worried glances, then two little pairs of feet trot upstairs.
‘Lloyd, this is extremely important.’
Lloyd chews at the skin around his thumbnail. ‘I mean … yeah, I’ve taken medicine. But Mr Cockrun knows about it. He lets me.’
‘That doesn’t sound quite right, Lloyd.’
‘Forget it then. Don’t believe me. Adults are bullshit.’ He looks sullen.
‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’
‘Nothing. Just forget it. Are you gonna tell the police what I did?’
‘I’ll have to write it up. But I’m not going to tell the police. You’re hungry. You shouldn’t have been left without food so long. You’re only eleven. But listen – don’t ever do that again.’
‘Kate?’
‘Yes, Lloyd?’
‘I’m, like, sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have done it. You’re one of the good ones.’
I sigh. ‘Thank you, Lloyd. It’s very grown up of you to apologise. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, okay? Please don’t burn the house down. I really, really shouldn’t be leaving you, but you need to eat.’
‘Twenty minutes is nothing. Mum’s left us for the whole weekend before.’
‘I know.’ I head out the front door.
When I’m five paces from the house I burst into tears. No one’s ever punched me before.
Stop it, Kate. Stop crying. Get a hold of yourself – you’re an adult.
Anyway, this is a happy occasion. The Neilson boys are going to get their first proper dinner in months.