Chapter Fourteen

Disclosure

When a young person has been missing, or ‘absent’ or ‘away from placement’ as it’s also known, the local authority – usually the child’s social worker – has to interview them on their return to establish why they ran away, where they were while absent and what can be done to resolve the issues that led to them running away. Stevie was sitting at the table in our kitchen-diner finishing off his homework when Verity arrived, and she was suitably impressed.

‘I wish my kids did their school work on a day off,’ she said.

‘It’s a school day, really,’ I pointed out, and offered her a drink.

‘I’m fine, thanks. I won’t stay for long, but I did need to see Stevie today.’ She sat beside him at the table.

‘Shall I leave you to it?’ I asked.

‘Yes, please. I’ll see you before I leave.’

I went out, closing the door behind me to give them some privacy, and went into the front room where I logged on to my PC. I continued working on the Excel spreadsheet I was updating for work. Fifteen minutes or so later I heard the door to the kitchen-diner open, and then Stevie came into the front room. ‘She wants to see you now,’ he said.

I clicked the mouse to save the spreadsheet and followed him into the kitchen-diner. He returned to sit next to Verity and I sat opposite.

‘We’ve had a good chat,’ Verity said, closing the diary she’d had open in front of her. ‘It seems Stevie ran away because of the incident at school involving him using his mobile phone. Stevie says the reason he didn’t want to return to you or go to his grandparents was because he knew he’d be in trouble.’

‘We were obviously worried,’ I said, for it sounded as though I was an ogre. ‘And before then? Have you talked about what was worrying Stevie in the week before the incident?’ I glanced at him.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s doesn’t matter.’ Which Verity accepted.

‘Stevie feels he can remain in placement with you.’

‘Good. I’m pleased you feel you can stay with us,’ I said to him, ‘but I don’t want a repeat of last night.’ Then, looking at Verity, I said, ‘Not only did Stevie put himself in danger by running away, but he caused his grandparents, my family and me a lot of unnecessary worry. My son, Adrian, came with me to the police station and didn’t get to bed until four-thirty. He had to be up at six o’clock to go to work. If Stevie has a problem, he needs to discuss it like the young adult he is, not run off.’

‘I think he knows that,’ Verity said a little curtly.

‘Excellent.’ But it needed to be said with his social worker present.

‘He’ll be in school tomorrow,’ Verity said, winding up. ‘I’ll phone Mr and Mrs Jones and let them know he’s staying here. OK, Stevie, I’ll leave you to finish your homework.’ She stood and I saw her to the front door.

‘Carry on as you were before,’ she said to me. ‘Don’t hold a post-mortem.’

‘I don’t intend to,’ I replied, which I would have hoped she’d know. We said goodbye and she left.

It would have been helpful if she’d lectured Stevie a bit more, as I had, but I’d seen far worse behaviour in a child or young person go unchecked by their social worker for fear of jeopardising their relationship. I appreciated it must be difficult to get the balance right, but then it is for parents and foster carers too. Of course I wouldn’t dwell on Stevie running away; we would carry on as normal and hope there wasn’t a repetition.

Adrian was home at four o’clock, having worked an early shift, and went up to his room for a sleep before dinner. We all ate together, the subject of Stevie’s absence forgotten. Stevie joined in the conversation more like his old self. The following day he went to school, had the meeting with the Head, apologised to the teacher he’d sworn at and rejoined his class. The weekend arrived, and not a moment too soon. Stevie visited his grandparents on Sunday while Adrian and Paula went out with their father for lunch, and Lucy went ice-skating with a friend. The few hours I had alone gave me a chance to finish the spreadsheets I’d been working on and then sit quietly and do nothing. But while it was relaxing to have the house to myself for a while, I was pleased when everyone returned and the house was again filled with the sounds of my family.

I hadn’t given Stevie a front door key yet and he hadn’t asked for one. Giving a young person their own key can be a matter of contention. Some young people ask for a key as soon as they arrive, but I’d learnt from experience to wait and let them prove themselves first. Once I knew I could trust them to act responsibly with a front door key and not party, steal or truant from school if I wasn’t in – as had happened to me before – then I gave them a key. I was planning on waiting another couple of weeks and then, if everything settled down, I’d give Stevie his own key as a sign I trusted him to act responsibly.

A few days passed when Stevie seemed perfectly normal, then abruptly his behaviour deteriorated again. He became silent, withdrawn and spent a lot of time in his room, snapping at anyone if they asked if he was all right. It could simply be teenage angst, and had I raised Stevie from a baby or young child I would have felt more confident in just giving him the space and time he needed to work through it. But as similar behaviour from him previously had been symptomatic that something was brewing, I kept asking him if he was OK. Finally he exploded. It was at the end of dinner. Just he, the girls and I were in and he’d sat sullen and silent throughout the meal, head down, hunched over his plate and hardly eating a thing. As we cleared away I asked him if he was feeling all right.

‘Will you please shut the fuck up and just leave me alone!’ he snapped. Throwing his plate on the floor, he stormed off upstairs, into his bedroom, and slammed the door. I was shocked, Paula looked close to tears and Lucy was angry.

‘He’s not talking to you like that!’ she said and went up after him.

‘Lucy!’ I called. ‘Come here! Let him cool off first, then I’ll talk to him.’

I went after her. As I arrived on the landing she was at his bedroom door. Giving it a good thud, she didn’t wait for a reply but flung it open. Then she stopped. ‘Oh,’ she said. I joined her. Stevie was sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands and sobbing.

‘What is the matter, love?’ I said, going into his room. Lucy returned downstairs.

I sat beside him on the bed and waited for him to calm down enough to talk. His anger had been replaced by tears, and seeing him cry so openly broke my heart. ‘What is it?’ I asked gently. I slipped my arm around his waist and waited some more. His tears kept falling. He was so distraught he was beyond speaking. I passed him tissues from the box and, keeping his head down, he dabbed at his eyes. I could hear Lucy and Paula downstairs in the kitchen beneath and I guessed they were clearing up the mess Stevie had made, which was kind of them.

‘It can’t be that bad,’ I said presently.

‘It is,’ he sobbed.

‘Is it to do with school?’ I asked. He shook his head. Then I wondered if perhaps it wasn’t a specific problem, but he was generally feeling low, even depressed, and should see a doctor. ‘Are you feeling very sad and maybe missing your family?’ I asked.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Can you talk to me about how you are feeling?’ I tried.

He shook his head and fresh tears fell. I passed him another tissue. He wiped his eyes again and then the sobbing gradually eased, and we sat quietly side by side for some time. Just as I thought he was starting to recover, his face clouded and silent tears fell. I was really worried. I was unable to reach him. ‘Stevie, you need to tell me what’s wrong,’ I tried again.

He shook his head in despair. ‘I’ve been so stupid,’ he said at last. ‘If I tell you, you’ll hate me forever.’ So I knew it was something specific that was upsetting him rather than generally feeling low. I didn’t believe it could be anything so bad that I would hate him. I needed to try to coax it out of him.

‘Of course I won’t hate you,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to help you.’

‘My grandparents will hate me.’

‘They might be annoyed with you, but they won’t hate you, they love you.’

‘Not after this they won’t. They’ll never forgive me.’ I was now feeling uneasy at the enormity of whatever it was Stevie perceived he’d done.

I looked at him as he sat with his head in his hands in complete despair. I couldn’t begin to guess what the problem was, although part of me still felt he was probably overreacting and had blown it out of proportion, but of course I couldn’t be sure. ‘Stevie,’ I said after a while, ‘you are going to have to share this with someone sooner or later, otherwise it’s going to eat away at you just like when you had the problem with Joey and the photographs you sent him of yourself.’ I saw him flinch.

‘It’s worse than that,’ he said. I felt another stab of unease.

‘Go on,’ I prompted.

He raised his head slightly and stared at a place on the floor a little way in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘You know my gran asked you about a secret Liam and Kiri had?’

‘Yes, I remember. It wasn’t long after you moved in.’

‘It’s about that secret,’ he said.

‘OK.’ I felt another stab of unease. I hadn’t got a clue where this was leading. Peggy hadn’t mentioned it again.

‘I didn’t tell you the whole truth. There were more photos.’

‘You mean the photos you sent to Joey of you naked?’

He shook his head. ‘No, there were some others. Of Kiri and Liam.’

I stared at him, hoping I’d misunderstood. ‘Not like the ones you sent of yourself?’ He nodded. ‘Without their clothes on?’

He nodded again, and I felt physically sick.

‘You took photos of Kiri and Liam naked?’ I asked, unable to believe what I’d heard. ‘Oh Stevie. Why? Whatever made you do that? Are they still on your phone?’

‘No, I deleted them after I sent them.’

‘Sent them where?’ I asked, my stomach contracting with fear.

‘To Joey.’

‘Oh no.’ His eyes filled again. I continued to stare at him. This had taken a new and horrifying turn, as Stevie knew. ‘Why?’

‘Joey told me to. He said if I didn’t he would send the pictures of me to my grandparents, all my friends, the school and post them online. What else could I do?’ There was plenty Stevie could and should have done, but he’d panicked. ‘So I took the photos and told Kiri and Liam not to tell anyone – that was our secret.’

‘But you must have known it was wrong?’ I said, struggling to take it in.

He nodded and his tears fell again. ‘I did, but I hoped it would put a stop to it and Joey would go away. I couldn’t tell my grandparents, they would have killed me.’

‘So it’s been on your conscience all this time,’ I said, though I’m afraid to say that my sympathy was waning. Kiri and Liam were six and eight years old, and Stevie had taken indecent images of them and sent them to a stranger. Where were those photos now? What pervert was drooling over them? This was no longer two teenagers making an error of judgement and sexting, but paedophile activity in which Stevie had been complicit. For a moment I wished he’d never set foot in my house. Then I knew I had to pull myself together and act professionally. Thankfully my own children were older, otherwise I would have asked for Stevie to be moved. Harsh though that may seem, I would never have put my own family at risk. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about those photos when you told me about the ones you’d taken of yourself?’ I asked after a moment.

‘I knew it was bad and I hoped that once I’d sent the photos to Joey he would just go away and leave me alone. He did for a while. Then he contacted me again and said he wanted more photos or he would send the photos of Liam and Kiri to my grandparents and post them online with my name on them.’

‘You didn’t take any more, did you?’ I asked, a cold chill running up my spine.

‘No.’

I sat for a moment, taking it all in. Never in my wildest imagination would I have guessed Stevie’s secret. It wasn’t for me to question him about the details of the photographs – where and when he’d taken them. That was for the police. The less I knew about them the better, for once something is seen or heard it cannot be undone. I knew that what I’d learnt so far would plague me for ever. I’d fostered enough abused children to know what paedophiles are capable of, and reluctantly I now had to admit I had one in my home – a fourteen-year-old boy. Yes, it might have been a grave error of judgement on Stevie’s part, but I was struggling to understand why, having been well brought up by his grandparents – who as far as I knew had sound moral principles – Stevie had actually done this. I hoped he was telling me the truth about the circumstances in which he’d taken the photographs of Liam and Kiri – that he’d been blackmailed. For the alternative – that he had taken them of his own free will through some perverse pleasure and then shared them with Joey online – was too awful to contemplate.

‘I’ll need to phone your social worker,’ I said, and left the room.

Shaking and with my stomach churning, I went into my bedroom and closed the door. I felt hot and queasy as I perched on the bed and picked up the phone. I tried Verity first, but it was after six o’clock and her work voicemail clicked in, inviting me to leave a message or, if it was urgent, to contact the emergency duty social worker. I did both. ‘Verity, it’s Cathy, Stevie’s carer,’ I said, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. ‘I’m afraid that Stevie has just disclosed. He has taken indecent photographs of his siblings, Kiri and Liam, and sent them to Joey – the same lad he sent the indecent images of himself to. I’ll phone the duty social worker now.’

I cut the call, phoned the social services’ out-of-hours number and explained to the call operator why I needed to speak to either Verity or the emergency duty social worker as soon as possible. She took my details, asked if Kiri and Liam were in any immediate danger, which as far as I knew they weren’t, and said the emergency duty social worker would call me back. I replaced the handset and continued sitting on my bed, my thoughts all over the place. A knock sounded on the door. ‘Mum, are you OK?’ It was Paula.

‘Yes, I’m waiting to speak to the duty social worker. I’ll be down shortly.’

‘We’ve cleared up,’ she said.

‘Thank you, love.’ She stayed outside my door. ‘I’ll be with you soon,’ I called. She’d be looking for an explanation and reassurance after Stevie’s outburst. Goodness knows what I was going to tell her, Lucy and Adrian. ‘I’ll see you when I’ve finished on the phone,’ I said. I heard her go round the landing to her bedroom.

The landline rang and it was the duty social worker, but not the one I’d spoken to before when Stevie had gone missing. I explained in more detail Stevie’s disclosure, gave him Stevie’s details again, how long he’d been with me and why he’d originally come into care. He asked where Stevie was now and I said in his bedroom at my house. ‘And the photos were taken when he lived with his grandparents and siblings last year?’ he confirmed.

‘Yes.’ The duty social worker said he’d try to speak to Verity, and in the meantime Stevie wasn’t to contact Liam and Kiri, which I knew. He or Verity would phone me back this evening. There would now be safeguarding issues around Stevie’s two younger siblings, and indeed any other young children he had been in contact with. The consequences of Stevie’s actions would be more far-reaching than Stevie could have ever imagined. Having ended the call, I sat for a moment and then went to Stevie’s room. His door was closed so I knocked on it. ‘Come in,’ he called, subdued.

He was sitting on his bed as I’d left him, but now had his phone in his hands. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Messaging the WhatsApp group from my class,’ he replied.

‘About what?’

‘School stuff.’

Would I ever trust him again? I had no idea. ‘I’m waiting to hear back from the duty social worker or Verity,’ I said.

He put his phone to one side. ‘What’s going to happen to me? Will she tell the police?’

‘Yes, she will have to. Joey needs to be caught and stopped,’ was all I said, not wanting to go into all the procedure that awaited Stevie. That was for Verity and the police to explain to him. He looked at me, naively surprised, still not grasping what he and Joey had done. ‘If Joey has done this to you, he will be doing it to others,’ I said. ‘Are you still in contact with him?’

‘He’s just messaged me again.’

‘Saying what? Show me, please.’ My heart was thumping wildly as I went over. Stevie turned the phone so I could see the screen. The message from Joey was threatening: Where are the photos, Stevie boy? Don’t keep me waiting. I felt sick at the thought of that pervert at the other end of this message, still out there and free to perpetrate more evil.

‘Don’t reply,’ I said. ‘And don’t tell him you’ve told me. Hopefully the police will be able to trace him, so don’t make him suspicious by deleting your account. Just leave everything as it is for now.’ As I continued to look at Joey’s profile picture my anger and disgust rose, but also I thought he looked slightly familiar, although I didn’t know where from.

‘Is that a recent photo of him, do you know?’ I asked, returning the phone to Stevie.

‘He said it was, but perhaps he was lying about that too.’

‘I want you to take a screenshot of his page and send it to my phone, please. Do you know how to do that?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘He looks familiar,’ I said. ‘I want to check something.’ Also, I thought, if Joey deleted his account I’d have something to show Verity and the police.

Stevie did as I asked and sent the screenshot to my mobile phone, which I would collect presently. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked him. It was a daft question and he shrugged despondently. ‘I’ll let you know when I hear from Verity or the duty social worker.’

I pulled his door to and was about to look in on Paula when the house phone rang. I continued round the landing to take the call in my bedroom, where I closed the door. It was Verity. I told her exactly what Stevie had told me about taking the indecent images of Kiri and Liam. I could hear the gravity in her voice as she replied, ‘I’ll contact the child protection officer [from the police] first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll see Stevie just after nine.’

‘I’ll keep him off school then?’

‘Yes. And he’s not to go to his grandparents’ house or have any contact with Liam or Kiri for now.’

‘I’ll keep him at home with me.’

‘How is he coping?’ she asked. For despite what Stevie had done, he was a minor and a looked-after child. Hopefully one who’d acted foolishly and had been taken advantage of, rather than the more sinister option that he’d willingly engaged in paedophile activity.

‘Shocked, worried and upset,’ I said.

‘Keep an eye on him and I’ll see him first thing tomorrow.’

I went round to Stevie’s room and told him that Verity had phoned and would be visiting us at nine o’clock the next morning. He was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll be downstairs if you want to talk.’

‘I don’t,’ he replied.

I stopped off at Paula’s room, but she was in the middle of a telephone conversation with a friend, so I went downstairs. Lucy was on her way up. Unaware of what Stevie had told me, she was still annoyed with him. ‘Did he apologise to you?’ she asked.

‘Not yet, but don’t push it, love. I’ll explain later.’

‘Well, he needs to,’ she said, and went into her room.

While I was touched by her support, Stevie apologising was the last thing on my mind. I took my mobile phone into the front room, logged on to my computer and then sent the screenshot of Joey’s profile page to it. The image was clearer and bigger. He still looked familiar and I now had a vague idea where I’d seen him before. Five minutes later I had the answer and had identified ‘Joey’. Only of course the photo wasn’t of ‘Joey’, but a little-known actor called Robin. I found the exact same photograph online, which is where ‘Joey’ would have stolen it from. Paedophiles often steal photos from online to disguise their true identity. It was pure chance I recognised it. Robin had had a few small parts in repertory theatre, but had toured with a company the year before in a show I’d gone to see. It was a fluke, and although it wouldn’t help identify who Joey really was it showed he was a fraud. I made a note of the website address where I’d found the photo in case Verity or the police wanted it, and then I went upstairs and told Stevie. He was obviously shocked.

‘Why did he do that?’ he asked naively. ‘I sent him my real photo.’

‘I know you did, love. You’re honest, but this person, whoever he is, is a liar, a pervert and a paedophile.’

‘So he’s not gender-fluid like me?’ Stevie asked innocently.

‘No, and I don’t suppose he’s fifteen, or has a younger brother or sister, or lives with his grandparents or any of the other things he told you. He’s lied to get what he wants – it’s too easy online.’