I stood and watched the huge vehicle turn around and drive away, letting the shocking things he’d said to me sink in. They had just seemed so at odds with the way Connor looked and had behaved – well, so far – that my instincts were all over the place; I really didn’t know what to think.
I’d yet to hear from the care-home manager, so I still felt somewhat ill-informed; I’d have liked to know the circumstances around the incident that had brought him here, but right now all I had to go on were the email I’d already studied and the envelope I had in my hand. I ripped it open and had a flick through while Mike and the boys were still out of the way, but there wasn’t much more than I’d been told earlier. Well, apart from some further info on how he’d got hold of an iron bar. It seemed he’d acquired it from the grounds of the home, where some repairs were being done to some of the outbuildings. Apparently left behind by a workman, it had found its way into Connor’s hands a few days earlier – he’d admitted to having it hidden under his bed.
‘For protection’ had been his answer when he’d been asked why he’d taken it, but it had certainly not been used in defence. No, it seemed the social worker – a Mr Gordon – had wound him up in the dining room, so he’d gone to his room, retrieved the bar, which was apparently some part of an old window, and then duly caused mayhem over breakfast.
This morning’s breakfast. All that trouble caused, and on this very morning, by the little dot of a kid upstairs. Hearing the stairs creak, I stuffed the papers back into the envelope.
It was Mike. ‘Told them I’d call them when there’s some food ready. Ty’s helping him settle in. Anything juicy in there?’ he added, nodding towards the paperwork. I paused, wondering whether to try and sugar it. I decided not.
‘He does appear to be a bit worse than we first thought,’ I said, keeping an eye on the door. ‘It certainly doesn’t make nice reading. I think we’re going to have to keep a close eye on him.’
He held his hand out for the envelope. ‘Let’s have a nose, then. Don’t worry. He’s busy unpacking and Ty’s promised him they can play on his Xbox.’
I handed it over. ‘Well, I guess all we can do is treat him as we find him and play it by ear. Julie did say these outbursts invariably follow a pattern. That once he’s messed up his placements he goes through a period of remorse. Let’s hope he’s in reflective mood today, eh?’
‘Placements plural?’ Mike said. ‘How many has he been through?’
‘More than are commensurate with peace, love and harmony,’ I told him. ‘So let’s make sure he sees some while he’s with us. I’ll leave them for a bit, then how about we take them both out? Maybe even stay out for tea. We’ll just keep him busy,’ I added, as Mike finished scanning the notes.
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Be the other way around, I reckon.’
He wasn’t wrong. After he went into the lounge to watch his Saturday sports programme I quickly made both boys a sandwich, then took them up; if they were settled with the Xbox, I was happy enough. They could get on and get to know each other over some mutual game they liked while I dealt with the laundry, and we could head off on our outing a little later.
I reached the top of the stairs and smiled as I heard boyish laughter coming from Tyler’s room. Tyler was routinely great around younger kids, not just because he had his own little brother (whom he still saw pretty regularly, even though he had no contact with his dad or stepmother) but because he spent so much time around my own grandchildren.
I hovered a moment, listening – you could glean lots by listening to what kids chatted about when out of earshot – and, as a result, my smile didn’t stay in place long.
‘Mate, you’re almost a man at your age,’ Connor was saying. ‘Don’t tell me you never look at tits.’
I swallowed a gasp and edged closer to the very slightly open door. ‘Casey’ll go mad, Connor, trust me,’ Tyler answered, sounding uncomfortable. ‘Seriously. I didn’t even know my Xbox could do that.’
I heard Connor giggle – such an innocent sound when made by an eight-year-old – and I could picture his angelic face as he answered. ‘Aw, mate, you got a lot to learn. You can get pornos on ’em and all sorts!’
I almost dropped the sandwiches in my haste to transfer both plates to one hand so I could knock loudly on the door before opening it. Tyler stared at me, red faced, while Connor smiled sweetly. ‘Hi, Mrs Watson,’ he said politely. ‘I think I’m going to love it here. Thanks for letting me stay, an’ that. I really appreciate it.’
I knew at that moment that I could simply pretend I hadn’t heard. Get the boys out of the room and then speak to Tyler later. We were only taking care of this pint-sized porn-fancier for the weekend, after all. Or I could make my life a bit more difficult. I chose the latter.
‘You’re welcome, Connor,’ I said, fairly sharply, as I put the plates down on the chest of drawers. ‘But I just heard the conversation you boys were having and I’m telling you right from the off, Connor, that I won’t tolerate that kind of thing.’
I then looked at Tyler, trying to transmit that we were in this together, while at the same time saying, ‘Tyler, I know you were trying to be nice to Connor, but I’m afraid there’ll be no more Xbox this weekend. Connor, go to your own room and get your shoes on. You can have your lunch with me downstairs. And then we’re going out.’
Tyler nodded, looking embarrassed, then got to his feet and started winding the leads round the Xbox handsets. Connor stood up, too, but his expression had morphed into something like a sneer. ‘So I’m not allowed to play anything now, then? What kind of fucking house is this?’
I picked up the plate that contained his sandwich and held the door wide open. I then pointed towards the bedroom he’d just unpacked his things in. ‘You, Connor,’ I told him, ‘are the same age as my grandson. I would not tolerate that kind of language from him and, trust me, I won’t tolerate it from you either. Do you hear me? And if I hear it again, I’m sure Mike will have something to say about it, too,’ I added, sensing what I might be dealing with here, given Connor’s early years. I wasn’t generally one for the ‘wait till your father gets home’ variety of disciplining generally, but I knew this boy was used to being disciplined by his father, so might well be more fearful of his wrath than mine. As it would turn out, I was right on the money about that, but for now I was just pleased to see him respond. ‘Now go on,’ I said. ‘Let’s not ruin today before we’ve even started. Grab your shoes, then downstairs to eat.’
Gloves off, then. Still, at least it was good to know where we stood. And it seemed Connor was keen for that, too. ‘Tell “Big Mike” if you like,’ he said, sauntering past me through the open doorway. ‘He’s just another one I’ll add to the list of men for me dad to sort out.’ He left the bedroom actually whistling.
‘Oh my God!’ Tyler said, his jaw dropping. ‘What kind of kid is that?’
I groaned. ‘The kind that is going to make this a very long weekend, I imagine, don’t you? Hmm. I think we’ll go to the Jungle Pit. Have tea there as well. Yup, that’s a plan. Try and help him burn off some energy.’
‘Oh great,’ Tyler said, rolling his eyes. ‘He trash talks you and gets a reward?’ He then grinned at me. ‘I’m only kidding, Casey. Don’t look so worried. I know what you’re trying to do.’
Bless him, I thought, marvelling at his perceptiveness. Tyler was no angel – he was a thirteen-year-old boy, so could still get up to mischief and give us some attitude from time to time – but it was reassuring that he understood that there were ways and ways of playing things.
I followed Connor back downstairs and while he ate his sandwich – and there wasn’t a peep out of him now – I went to tell Mike both a watered-down version of what had happened (leaving out the ‘Big Mike’ bit) and the plan I had for keeping our charming young visitor occupied for the afternoon.
Despite my telling him he could stay behind and watch telly – he’d had a long and busy week, after all – Mike felt the same as Tyler. ‘So, let me get this straight. You’re taking him to a play centre to thank him for being rude to you? Good plan, Case.’
I was pretty sure I’d get the same response from Riley if I told her as well, so as soon as it popped into my head that I could ask her to join me instead of Mike, I dismissed it again. No, better if the ‘containment’ part of the weekend involved only myself.
‘I’ll come as well,’ Tyler said, bringing his own plate back down to the kitchen. ‘Keep you company while Connor here goes and plays.’
If Connor noticed the slightly patronizing tone in Tyler’s voice, he didn’t show it. In fact, I reckoned he was now on a different track with us. Having been denied his ‘pornos’ and made his feelings known, it was almost as if, having realized he was stuck with us for a couple of days, he’d now made a conscious decision to keep us on side. In any event, I reasoned, he would enjoy playing there; I’d never met a kid who didn’t enjoy having free rein in a giant warehouse full of ball pits and climbing frames, ropes, slides and trampolines. If he didn’t find something to amuse himself he’d be a very strange boy indeed.
Though, by any standards, he was a strange boy. Given his early abandonment by his mother, and the frequent absences of his father, it would have been a miracle if he wasn’t. I wasn’t silly. He was damaged by his upbringing, and I knew all about that because I saw it all the time. But there was more to it than that. And as Tyler went to get himself ready, and Connor meekly offered to wash up his plate and mug, I’d pretty much decided I knew exactly what I was dealing with. My guess was that he was on the road to becoming a sociopath.
It’s a word that gets bandied about a lot, ‘sociopath’, but it’s important that the condition is correctly diagnosed, because a child with sociopathic tendencies is a damaged and potentially very dangerous child; one who needs a great deal of specialist help and a supportive and firm environment if they aren’t to grow up to become a damaged and dangerous adult as well.
I knew a little of what I spoke. We’d fostered a child a few years back, a boy almost exactly the same as Connor in some of his background and ways, and the professional view, given his behaviour, which was often extreme and very entrenched, was that he was a sociopath, too. Thankfully, in that case it turned out he wasn’t; he was simply reacting to a situation nobody had known about, much less understood. It had been his father – his charming, personable and apparently bewildered father – who’d been the wolf in sheep’s clothing that had so damaged the poor kid.
Along the way, however, I’d read up a lot on the subject and my hunch was that Connor might just be the real deal. His notes certainly seemed to point to it and his behaviour before going into care seemed to as well. It’s accepted in many quarters now that there are features of brain chemistry linked to sociopathy and psychopathy; that it’s a combination of this, coupled with terrible circumstances as a trigger, that brings about the lack of empathy that characterises such people. Sadly, though, once it’s part of someone’s personality it’s extremely hard to treat.
Which made several things clear. That a weekend with us would probably make no difference to what became of him, and that he needed help that the likes of us weren’t qualified to provide. So, despite it going against everything I believed in, I knew then that this mini-placement was to be purely about containment. There was simply no other way to approach it.
With that in mind, I knew I should stop floundering about, trying to think of ways in which I could try to help him. I just needed to put lots of things in place to keep him out of trouble and occupied. A sad thought to accept, but obviously necessary.
I wondered if he could read minds as well as he knew his way around an Xbox. Because by the time he’d climbed into the car he had completely lost his attitude. Indeed, as I got into the front seat I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Connor, with the angelic smile once again in place. ‘Sorry about swearing, Mrs Watson,’ he said meekly.
‘You know, Connor,’ I said, swivelling to face him, ‘it’s fine to call me Casey.’
‘Casey, then,’ he said, as if finding the familiarity uncomfortable on his tongue. ‘I was only having a bit of fun with Tyler, honest.’ He glanced at Tyler, who was looking at him as if he really wasn’t sure what to make of him. ‘We should never have been looking at boobs,’ he went on. And I was about to agree that he certainly shouldn’t have been, when he finished off with ‘not with a woman around the house’.
I swivelled back and switched the ignition on, speechless. I caught Tyler’s gaze in the mirror, but decided we’d best ignore what Connor had just said. ‘Right, fasten up then, boys. Let’s go and let off some steam, shall we?’
Though, in Connor’s case – Connor who was only eight years old – a cold shower might have been a better choice.