8.15 p.m.
I arrive at the children’s ward sweaty and stressed from roadwork traffic.
Some parents are pulling out folding beds, readying themselves for a night’s sleep. Others are helping their children eat, or sitting on beds with them, watching television.
I introduce myself to the duty nurse, telling her I’m from Child Services.
She doesn’t bother checking my ID. ‘Who are you here to see?’
‘Tom Kinnock. He asked to see me.’
‘Tom’s in bed eleven.’
‘Is his mother here?’
‘She just popped home. She’ll be back soon. Do you want to wait for her?’
‘The sooner I talk to Tom the better.’
‘He’s been drifting in and out of sleep.’ The nurse leads me to a blue curtain. It’s the only closed curtain on the ward.
A little girl with bright blonde hair lies in the next bed. ‘Hello,’ the girl says, all smiles and gaps in her milk teeth. ‘I’m not very well.’
‘Oh dear,’ I say. ‘That’s not fun, is it? But it looks like your teeth are doing brilliantly. Has the tooth fairy visited you in hospital?’
The little girl beams. ‘Yes! Daddy said she’d find me and she did. She left one whole pound under my pillow and a chocolate. But the chocolate melted—’
‘You should be trying to sleep, Charlotte,’ the nurse says. Then she pulls back Tom’s curtain and whispers, ‘Tom. Tom. Your social worker is here.’
‘He’ll be tired,’ the little girl muses, wiggling her remaining front tooth with her finger. ‘He’s been sleeping since he got here.’
But Tom is awake, propped up on three pillows.
My goodness. He looks so pale. Like he hasn’t seen daylight in months. This last seizure has really taken it out of him.
The nurse pulls the curtain around us, then leaves.
‘Hi Tom.’ I give something like a wave. ‘Do you remember me? I’m Kate Noble, your social worker. The doctor thought you might like a chat.’
Tom blinks, eyes darting around. ‘I wanted it to be you. You’re Pauly’s social worker too, aren’t you? You got him fish and chips.’
I smile. ‘I don’t make a habit of that. Just a one-off. How are you feeling?’
‘Not very well.’
‘Do you remember having a seizure?’
Tom shakes his head.
‘Where’s your mum?’
‘She went home to get clothes and stuff.’
‘Listen, the doctor says these seizures are a little unusual. They can’t quite get to the bottom of them. And then there are the injuries.’ I sit on the chair.
Tom fiddles with his blanket.
‘You can tell me anything, you know. Even things you can’t tell your mum. I’m here to keep you safe.’
Tom nods his head tightly.
‘Tell you what.’ I pull a notepad from my bag. ‘If you don’t want to say it out loud, is there anything you’d like to write down? Would that be easier? Who is hurting you, Tom?’
Tom takes the pad. For a moment, I think he’s just going to hold it. But then he scribbles something, rips the paper free and folds it immediately, then hands it to me.
‘Can I—’
‘Don’t read it now,’ Tom whispers.
‘Okay.’ I shift awkwardly in the chair. ‘Well, can I read it later? In my car?’
Tom nods.
The little girl, Charlotte, calls through the curtain: ‘Can’t you sleep, Tom? I can’t sleep.’
‘Just try and think of something happy,’ I call back. ‘Like riding a pony on the beach. Or walking in the woods.’
‘I’ll think of My Little Pony,’ the girl decides loudly. ‘I like Majesty best. Oh! Tom. I think I can hear your mummy. Lucky. Your mummy is so nice.’
Charlotte’s right – there are female voices. Lizzie, I think, talking to a nurse.
‘Mum’s coming,’ Tom whispers. ‘You can’t tell her.’
Closing my hand around the paper, I say, ‘I’ll read it later. Okay? Somewhere private.’
We hear footsteps and then the curtain slides back.
I see Lizzie, her short, platinum hair glowing white under the neon light. She is smiling and has books and toys under one arm.
‘Hey, Tommo. Oh, Kate.’ Lizzie notices me and jolts in shock.
‘I was just saying a quick hello,’ I explain. ‘Seeing how Tom was feeling.’
‘He’s tired,’ Lizzie says, stroking Tom’s hair. ‘But he’s awake – that’s the main thing. Kate, I’m glad you came. I wanted to thank you. For being so fair at the meeting. They were trying to paint a picture. I know that. And I know you were trying to be even-handed. To see both sides.’
‘It was hard on you.’
Lizzie gives a humourless laugh. ‘I was terrified. I still am. I know how things look. No one believes me … the school … no one believes me.’
I feel the paper in my hand.
Lizzie’s bottom lip wobbles. ‘It’s the not knowing, that’s the hardest thing. These seizures. Why are they happening? Those marks on his arm …’
‘Hopefully the doctors will find out more this time.’
Lizzie puts the toys and books on the bedside table.
‘Bedtime, okay, Tommo? Time to sleep.’
‘My teeth hurt,’ says Tom.
‘That’s because you were clenching them. They’ll feel better tomorrow.’
‘Well, I should be going,’ I say. ‘Bye now.’
‘Bye Kate.’ Lizzie gives me a warm smile. ‘It’s good to see you. Come on, Tom – let’s get you tucked in.’
The moment I’m through the beige double doors and out of the ward, I phone Tessa.
‘Hi,’ I say, without giving my usual introduction. ‘I won’t have time to do those reports tonight. Tom Kinnock just wrote something down.’
‘What did he write?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet. I’m about to, once I leave the hospital. But I think he might have disclosed who’s hurting him.’