CHAPTER 25

The second floor of St Patrick’s children’s home consisted of four rooms, two of which were bedrooms, another bathroom and a games room at the end of the landing, the latter being his favourite place with a dartboard, games, and a Subbuteo pitch pinned by brass tacks to a large piece of plywood.

The red plastic cocktail sticks were missing from KerPlunk, as were half the plastic counters of Connect Four and Downfall, which regularly caused ructions between the new kids and those who'd resided there for over twelve months. Fights were frowned upon, and boys, or girls for that matter, all received severe punishment. He still felt the pain in the fingers of his right hand where the Shepherd had left his cruel marks from overly harsh caning after he'd fought with a younger boy who’d thrown a dart straight at him. Bloody idiot could have blinded him in his left eye; fortunately, the heavy plastic dart pierced the top of his left ear, the scar was still visible after thirty-three-years.

Davey Fleming wasn't so lucky. Father O’Malley decided to make an example of him, and unsurprisingly, the poor boy became very introverted after he'd been locked in the cellar for three days with only water and dry bread for comfort. Rumours amongst the kids scared the shit out of all of them. Davey later claimed O’Malley forced his cock into in his mouth and penetrated him anally. Heinous acts of paedophilia that were forced upon other boys during his seven tumultuous years at St Patrick's.

Looking at his phone it dawned on him that his digital life may not be as secure as he thought.