Little Prisoners: A tragic story of siblings trapped in a world of abuse and suffering. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ backtracked just a little on his original grim announcement; having found out more, he now assured me they didn’t have too many serious behavioural problems. They were just two frightened kids, who, for no fault of their own, were going to have to be taken away from their parents. I couldn’t begin to imagine the circumstances – and there were just too many potential reasons for me to try – but what John had told me (well, as far as he’d been made aware, anyway) was that they simply couldn’t cope with taking care of them.

      So sad, yet, tragically, so common. I breathed deeply, my eyes taking in all the violets, pinks and yellows – and, as I made an impromptu shopping list for Mike to take to the supermarket for me, I could only wonder, and hope, that things would be addressed sufficiently that at some point those parents could have them back.

      This was central to what we did – we tried to provide hope for the future. Hope that either families would be reunited or, if that wasn’t possible, that the children concerned could at least be equipped with some life skills to get them through, and then hopefully placed permanently, with carers who’d give them a fighting chance of happiness.

      Bob was bounding around the lawn as I sat and philosophised, and seeing him brought a smile to my face. They’d love our dog; no-one could fail to, because he had such a lovely temperament. Kieron had sprung him on us all, out of the blue, almost two years back. He’d been languishing in a rescue centre, abandoned and unwanted. I grinned to myself. Rescuing waifs and strays seemed to be a Watson family trait.

      ‘You done yet?’ It was Mike, come to join me in the garden. ‘Only, if I’m going to get there and back before these little ones arrive, I’d better scoot.’ He surveyed the list I passed him with growing consternation. ‘Bloody hell, love! You sure we need all this lot? We don’t even know the kinds of foods they like yet. Wouldn’t it be better to hold off on some of this until they’ve got here?’

      ‘Mike, all kids like that stuff,’ I answered. ‘And don’t stress me, not today.’

      He gave a mock salute. ‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’

      ‘And hurry,’ I chided, grinning. ‘We haven’t got all day!’

      As it turned out, we had barely an hour before the car drew up outside, only moments after Mike had returned, laden with bulging supermarket carrier bags. The cupboards had been pretty bare, what with us being away, so it had been a mad rush to get everything put away. Mindful of how scared the children would be, I shooed both Kieron and Bob back out into the garden, so they could meet the whole clan in less intimidating stages – Riley and her partner David wouldn’t stop by with Levi till tomorrow, so the kids would have a chance to settle in and get to know their new temporary home first.

      Mike went outside to greet them and to help them with their stuff – our last child had had about half a dozen cases – while I finished pulling cups out of the kitchen cupboards. By the time I’d returned to the hall, he was already back, however, clutching just the one small suitcase and a bin liner. The children themselves were following along behind him, with a man and a woman, the latter being Anna, I imagined.

      Finally they were all gathered on the doorstep in a huddle.

      At which point, I should have ushered them all immediately in, but even I – and I have seen a lot in my time – had to take a second, just to process the sight of them.

      John had been wrong. The word ‘neglect’ didn’t cover it. These poor little ones looked feral. I took in filth – so much filth that it almost looked tattooed on their scraggy limbs – matted hair, almost in dreadlocks, and rags, in the main, for clothes. Their expressions were wide-eyed and terrified and hollow, and they clung to their carers like baby monkeys to a mother; even as I watched the man try to disentangle himself from the boy, I could see just how tightly the gnarled brown hands gripped on.

      The smell hit me next. It was so fetid as to be indescribable, and it was all I could do not to cover my mouth with my hand. You can read Dickens, watch Dickens and visualise his descriptions, but these children, looking every inch like kids from a Dickensian orphanage, smelled bad in a way I’d never before imagined.

      But the thing that most struck me, as I smiled my best smile and welcomed them inside, was the head lice they had in their hair. I’d seen lots of head lice, at the school where I used to work. And like most mums, I’d deloused my own from time to time. But these were lice like I’d never seen them before. As I leaned down to give the little girl a welcoming cuddle, it hit me. There were so many, and they were so active, that her hair looked alive. The more you gazed on it, the more you saw what a seething mass it was. A virtual lice-metropolis had established there.

      No, I thought, again. The word neglect really didn’t cover it. I glanced at Mike and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. What else were we about to uncover?

      Chapter 2

      Fighting the need to gag, I ushered everyone inside, pasting a smile on my face, leaning down towards the children, and starting with the usual introductions.

      ‘Now, you must be Olivia,’ I gushed, smiling warmly at the frightened little girl. Like her brother, she had dirty-greyish, straggly blonde hair, and such sad, sunken eyes – two huge blue pools in her pale face. ‘And you’ll be Ashton …’ I went on, smiling at the tousle-headed boy. His hair, I noticed, for all that it was matted around his head, was almost as long as his sister’s. He nodded nervously, as he stepped past me into the hall, his whole demeanour suddenly reminding me of a little boy in a Second World War film who’s just stepped off a train full of frightened evacuees and is determined to maintain a stiff upper lip. ‘You’re very welcome,’ I finished, grinning broadly at them both. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Come in. It’s lovely to meet you.’

      I straightened again, shocked at how tiny they seemed. So much smaller and younger than the ages ascribed to them. I then turned my attention to the two adults. ‘Nice to meet you both,’ I said, proffering a hand, which, after disentangling themselves from the children, who were still clutching on to them, the man and the woman shook in turn. ‘And this is my husband, Mike,’ I finished. Mike duly did likewise, before saying his own cheerful hellos to the little ones, who visibly shrank back at the sound of his voice.

      ‘Great to meet you too,’ the female social worker said. ‘I wonder … could the children perhaps go and sit down somewhere? Watch some telly or something? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ she added, turning to her two charges. Ashton nodded.

      ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘Come this way, kids.’ I led them both into the living room and switched on the television, flicking through to find a cartoon channel for them to watch. Mike, meanwhile, I could hear, had led the two adults into the dining room, so we could all have a proper briefing over coffee before they left.

      The children sat, huddled close to one another on the edge of the sofa, meekly and silently accepting the drinks of squash and biscuits that I’d already prepared in anticipation of their arrival. They looked I thought, a little like extras from Les Misérables. I tried not to think about their proximity to my soft furnishings. Head lice can’t jump, I reminded myself firmly, as I left them to it and went to join the adults.

      Mike was pouring coffees when I walked into the dining room. ‘Here we are, love,’ he said, handing me my one.

      The female social worker smiled across as I took my place at the table. ‘I’m Anna,’ she said. ‘We spoke on the phone. And this is Robert,’ she finished. ‘Robert Foster.’ He raised a hand. ‘He’s the family support worker attached to the children.’

      Mike, СКАЧАТЬ