Chapter Sixteen
Stevie couldn’t find anything to occupy himself, and so he didn’t spend all day moping around I found him some jobs to do: oiling a squeaky door hinge – I showed him what to do – and vacuuming his bedroom carpet and round the landing. He went about the tasks apathetic and in silence, but at least he was occupied. At midday Verity telephoned and said the police would interview him at 2.30 that afternoon. She would be present but asked that I take him to the police station – the same one I’d collected him from when he’d gone missing – and she would drop him off after.
Stevie had come down and was trying to wind up the vacuum-cleaner flex as I took the call. I told him what Verity had said, at the same time showing him which button to press on the cleaner to make the flex retract automatically. ‘Will I get my phone back?’ he asked as I finished.
‘I don’t know.’
I stowed the cleaner in the cupboard under the stairs, and then made us a sandwich lunch. We sat either side of the table in the kitchen-diner, awkward and mainly silent as we ate unenthusiastically. Stevie clearly didn’t want to talk and I didn’t feel like making conversation; I was too worried by what was unfolding. When I looked at his pale, dispirited face I felt sorry for him. He’d had enough to cope with before all this, yet at the same time what he’d done to Liam and Kiri couldn’t be minimised. He should have refused to take the photos. The only thing Stevie said during lunch was, ‘Do you think Verity has told my gran yet?’
‘I would think so,’ I said. It seemed Stevie was more worried about letting her down than his grandfather, which was understandable given the friction between him and Fred, and that Peggy had been his and Liam and Kiri’s main care-giver. I wondered where her sympathy would lie.
After lunch I suggested to Stevie that he change from his joggers into something smarter for the police interview. ‘Do you have some dark trousers? Black or navy?’ I asked. He shook his head. ‘OK. Wear your school uniform then.’ As far as I knew, it was the only conservative outfit he possessed.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Am I going to school later?’
‘No, there won’t be time, but I want you to look smart for the police interview. I think something dark rather than yellow or pink is more appropriate, and don’t wear any make-up or nail varnish.’ I doubted in his present mood he would consider getting dressed up, but I thought I should say it to make sure. Appearances are important, and looking smart would give the impression he was taking the matter seriously, which is why lawyers always advise their clients to wear a suit for court.
Stevie did as I said and went upstairs to change and then stayed in his bedroom until I called him at two o’clock to say it was time to leave. He came down looking smart in his school uniform and younger – less sophisticated and streetwise.
‘Thanks for your help this morning,’ I said as we left the house.
He shrugged despondently. ‘I used to help my gran with the housework. There’s a lot with the three of us, and Fred thinks it’s women’s work.’
‘Fred has a lot to learn,’ I said lightly as we got into the car. ‘Although I expect he helps your gran in other ways.’
‘He cuts the grass and clears out the gutters,’ Stevie said. I nodded. Now we were on our way he was more talkative, probably from nerves. ‘Verity said the police will want to see Kiri and Liam,’ he said as I drove. ‘But I don’t understand why. They didn’t do anything wrong. It was me.’
‘I know, but it’s usual practice to interview all those involved,’ I said. ‘What reason did Verity give?’
‘She said the police would need to hear their version of events, but I’ve told the truth. They shouldn’t be involved.’
‘The police will handle it sensitively,’ I said. Of course the police would need to speak to Liam and Kiri to make sure that Stevie’s account was true and that he hadn’t assaulted them in any other way. Thankfully, I wouldn’t be present at that interview when Kiri and Liam were asked the details of what happened, as I had been before when I’d fostered children who’d been abused.
As we approached the police station Stevie became very anxious and fell quiet again. He began tapping his foot and nervously smoothing his hair. The road outside the police station was a lot busier than when I’d collected Stevie the night he’d run away, and I had to go down a side road to find a place to park. ‘I’ll see you in,’ I said, ‘then I’ll go home.’
He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and got out of the car. We walked without speaking round to the front of the building where we saw Verity crossing the road. She waited for us. ‘Hello, Stevie,’ she said, then to me, ‘I’ll drop him off once we’ve finished.’ I said goodbye and retraced my footsteps to my car. It didn’t seem appropriate to wish Stevie good luck. I just hoped he told the truth.
An afternoon of conjecture and worry loomed ahead of me. Once home, I couldn’t settle to anything and with one eye on the clock I continuously thought of Stevie and how he was faring at the police station. During my years of fostering I’d taken a number of children to various police stations to be interviewed, and the officers had treated them sensitively when questioning them. However, they’d been the victims; Stevie was older and the perpetrator – not a welcome thought. I assumed that Verity, there in the capacity of Stevie’s social worker and what’s known as an appropriate adult, would support him as necessary.
I opened the freezer door to see what I could take out for dinner later, rummaged inside for a while and then closed the door again without making a decision. In the front room I logged on to my computer and tried to do some work but made so many mistakes that I logged off again. Going into the living room, I stared through the patio windows; the garden was in need of a good tidy-up after the winter, but I couldn’t raise the enthusiasm to do it now.
Paula arrived home at four o’clock and I asked her about her day, then I told her what had happened since she’d left for college that morning: that Verity had come to see Stevie and he was now being interviewed at the police station.
‘Hope he’s all right,’ Paula said, concerned.
‘Yes, so do I,’ I replied.
She poured herself a glass of water and went up to her room. I opened the freezer door and tried again. I’d no idea how long the interview would take – until the police were satisfied, I supposed. When would they see Kiri and Liam? I wondered. I assumed quite soon, or perhaps they’d already seen them.
Shortly after five o’clock, as I was preparing dinner – lasagne – I heard the front doorbell ring. I immediately went to answer it. Stevie stood before me, and behind him I could see Verity in her car with the engine running. Seeing me, she gave a little wave of acknowledgement and pulled away. Some feedback would have been useful, I thought, but she’d be busy, and having spent most of the afternoon at the police station would have a lot of catching up to do.
‘How did it go?’ I asked Stevie as he slipped off his shoes.
‘They’re keeping my phone,’ he grumbled. ‘And they want my laptop.’
‘Do we take it to the police station?’ I asked.
‘Not sure. I think the copper said they’d collect it.’
‘From here?’ It was in his bedroom.
‘Dunno,’ he said moodily. He looked exhausted.
‘OK. But everything seemed to go all right?’
‘Suppose,’ he said, and went upstairs to his room.
With no idea what had been said during the interview, I didn’t know what, if anything, I could say to reassure Stevie, so I gave him some time alone and returned to the kitchen. As I finished making the lasagne I wondered what Stevie had told the police. Was it the same as he’d told me? Or had he – heaven forbid – admitted to something worse? I shuddered at the prospect. Not knowing how worried I should be was a horrible situation to be in and I hoped Verity would phone before long – if not this evening then tomorrow – to update me. I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to press Stevie for details.
Lucy and Adrian arrived home within ten minutes of each other just before six o’clock, and I told them briefly that Verity had taken Stevie to the police station to be interviewed that afternoon, but I didn’t know the outcome. We all ate together shortly after six, but dinner wasn’t the usual chatty occasion. The atmosphere was leaden with the unspoken, and Stevie kept his eyes down as he ate. Eventually Lucy said to him, ‘So how did it go?’
He shrugged dejectedly, and the gloom continued.
‘I have some good news,’ Adrian said after a moment.
I looked at him hopefully. ‘Yes?’
‘That letter that arrived for me today, it’s a job interview.’
‘Fantastic, well done,’ I said.
‘It’s a large firm of accountants in town. They’re looking for a graduate trainee, but they advertised in the national press, so they’ll be a lot of competition.’
‘You did well to get shortlisted,’ I said.
‘Yes, well done you,’ Paula added.
‘You’ll get offered it,’ Lucy said.
‘We’ll see,’ Adrian said with a smile. ‘It would be nice if I did. The interview is next Wednesday. I’ll ask work tomorrow for the time off.’
‘And don’t forget to tell the firm that you will be attending the interview,’ I reminded him.
‘Already done, Mum,’ he said with an indulgent smile. ‘I emailed them straight away.’
‘Good.’ I was so pleased for Adrian; competition in the job market is very fierce, especially for young people just starting their career. I glanced at Stevie, who was still looking morose and hadn’t joined in congratulating Adrian. I hadn’t expected him to with everything that was going on in his life, but on the other hand, neither was I going to marginalise the achievements of other members of my family because of Stevie’s problems. ‘Well done,’ I said again to Adrian. I could see it had given his confidence a real boost.
We’d just finished eating when the doorbell rang. ‘I wonder who that is,’ I said, standing.
‘You won’t know until you answer it,’ Lucy joked. It was our standard repartee for when the doorbell or telephone rang.
Two police officers stood on my doorstep, one male and one female. ‘Cathy Glass?’ the female officer asked as they both flashed their ID cards.
‘Yes.’
‘Stevie Jones lives here?’
‘Yes.’
‘He should have told you we’d be calling to collect his laptop.’
‘Oh, I see,’ I said. ‘He wasn’t sure. Come in.’ Although I wondered why it took two officers to collect a laptop. ‘We’re through here,’ I said, leading the way down the hall and into the kitchen-diner where Paula, Stevie, Lucy and Adrian were clearing the dinner dishes from the table.
‘Sorry for interrupting your meal,’ the female officer said.
‘It’s OK, we’d finished,’ I said.
‘Stevie,’ the male officer said, nodding to him. Stevie flushed, embarrassed.
‘Are these all foster kids?’ the male officer asked me.
‘No, this is my son, Adrian, and my daughters, Lucy and Paula,’ I said, introducing them. Adrian said hello, Paula looked worried, while Lucy’s eyes had lit up with excitement. It’s not every dinnertime that ends with the arrival of two police officers – thank goodness.
‘You’re not going to arrest anyone and drag them off in handcuffs, are you?’ Lucy asked dramatically.
‘I hope not,’ the male officer replied with a polite smile. Yet I saw his gaze and that of the female officer sweep the room. I supposed they were trained to be observant.
‘My laptop is in my room,’ Stevie offered self-consciously.
‘OK, we’ll come up with you to get it,’ the male officer replied.
Lucy’s eyes widened theatrically as Stevie went out of the room. The two officers followed him and I went too. As we passed the living room both officers looked in, giving the room the same scrutinising gaze as they had the kitchen-diner.
‘Have you been fostering long?’ the female officer asked as we went upstairs.
‘Yes, for many years.’
‘My aunt used to foster,’ she said. ‘I played with the kids when I was a child.’
‘That was nice.’
Stevie led the way round the landing and into his room. I remained by the door as the officers went in. His laptop was on his table and, closing the lid, he handed it to the male officer. ‘Thanks, we’ll send you a receipt,’ he said. They didn’t immediately leave the room but continued to look around and out of the window. ‘You’ll have the laptop back once forensics has finished with it,’ the male officer confirmed to Stevie, and he nodded.
They left his room and began along the landing. ‘Whose is this room?’ the male officer asked, pausing outside Adrian’s open bedroom door.
‘My son’s,’ I said. He pushed the door further open and looked in, before continuing round. ‘That’s Paula’s room,’ I said as the female officer paused outside her room.
‘Is that her laptop?’ she asked. It was open on her bed.
‘Yes.’
‘I told you, I never used anyone else’s laptop,’ Stevie said.
‘He didn’t,’ I confirmed. Had Stevie used our laptops, I guessed they would have wanted to take them as well, which would have been very disruptive for us all.
I thought I may as well show them Lucy’s room, where we had a similar conversation about her laptop, then I showed them my bedroom. It didn’t escape my notice that this was the second time the police were searching my house in under a month. ‘I don’t have a laptop,’ I said. ‘I use the desktop computer in the front room.’
Downstairs we went into the front room. ‘That one?’ the male officer asked, going over to the computer. It was in sleep-mode, the screen blank, with some of my printed spreadsheets beside it.
‘I use it for work,’ I said. ‘Stevie hasn’t been on it at all.’ He stood beside me awkwardly.
‘Not even when you were out, maybe?’ the female officer asked us both.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Stevie has never been alone in the house.’
‘That’s right,’ Stevie said.
They glanced around the front room and, apparently satisfied, returned to the hall. ‘I assume your adult children all have their own smartphones?’ the male officer now asked. I knew what was coming.
‘Yes, and so have I, but Stevie has never had access to any of them.’
‘I told you that at the police station,’ he said.
They hesitated, exchanged a glance and then thanked me for my time, apologised for disrupting my evening and left. Relieved, I closed the front door.
‘What am I supposed to do without any phone or laptop?’ Stevie bemoaned.
I could have snapped at him and told him it was the least of his worries, and his own fault for being so stupid, but I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.
‘Did they tell you how long they’d keep them for?’ I asked.
‘Weeks,’ he said despondently.
I knew it was asking too much for a lad of his age to be without means of personal communication in this day and age for weeks on end, despite what he’d done, so I said, ‘I’ve got an old phone you can borrow for now.’
‘Is it a smart phone?’ he asked.
‘No, you can text and make calls on it. It will connect to the internet but very slowly. You won’t be able to use WhatsApp or similar websites.’ He pulled a face. ‘It’s up to you, Stevie. I’d have thought it was better than nothing.’ I began to walk away. He was really testing my patience.
‘Yes, please,’ he called after me.
‘OK, I’ll find it later.’
Stevie went up to his room as I returned to the kitchen-diner where Adrian, Lucy and Paula were still gathered. I wasn’t sure that even now Stevie fully appreciated the seriousness of what he’d got himself into. ‘They had a good snoop around,’ Lucy said, referring to the police. ‘Are they allowed to do that without a search warrant?’
‘It doesn’t hurt to cooperate with the police,’ I said, filling the kettle.
‘Why were they asking about the computer and our phones?’ Paula asked innocently.
‘Because if Stevie had used any of them, they’d have to check them for illegal activity. I am right in saying that he hasn’t ever used your laptops or phones?’
‘No, he hasn’t,’ Adrian said. Paula and Lucy nodded in agreement.
‘Even if he had, I wouldn’t let the police take my phone or laptop,’ Lucy said defiantly.
‘You wouldn’t have any choice if they came back with a search warrant,’ I said, filling the kettle to make tea. ‘They could take the lot, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.’
‘Can you imagine no phones or laptops?’ Lucy asked, horrified.
‘Yes, I can actually,’ I replied. ‘I remember when there was just the landline and no internet.’
They looked at me with great pity.
‘And Nana remembers when they had their first television, and central heating installed,’ I added.
‘Yes, but she’s old,’ Lucy said.
‘Which by inference suggests I’m not. Thank you, Lucy. Anyone want a cup of tea?’