Too Hurt to Stay: The True Story of a Troubled Boy’s Desperate Search for a Loving Home. Casey Watson

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      ‘He was in a wheelie bin,’ the policeman said, ‘two doors up from here, hiding out. Till he got too cold. Been sitting there for, what, half an hour?’

      Spencer mumbled confirmation.

      ‘But why didn’t you just come home, lad?’ Mike asked. Spencer simply hung his head.

      ‘A hot drink,’ I said. ‘That’s what you need. Constable? Spencer?’

      Now Spencer did look up, though he couldn’t quite look me in the eye. ‘Yes, please,’ he said meekly. ‘An’ I’m sorry,’ he proffered also.

      I nodded, but stopped myself from saying ‘That’s okay’, because it wasn’t. He needed to know that actions had consequences, that they couldn’t be cancelled out just by trotting out apologies. They had their place, of course, but they needed to be accompanied by actions. This child must not see me and Mike as soft touches.

      The policeman declined a drink, saying that things wouldn’t take too long now, and by the time I’d made Spencer’s, Mike was showing him out. No need for lengthy statements when the incident’s already over, after all.

      ‘Come on, you,’ I said to Spencer, after I’d been into the hall and thanked the constable. ‘Into the kitchen for this hot chocolate. I’ve made you some toast as well.’

      He followed me in and sat up at the table where I directed, then wound his fingers around his special mug.

      ‘Can I still go out on Saturday?’ he asked quietly, after taking a sip from it.

      I looked at him, amazed. Boy, did we have a way to go. ‘I’m sorry, love, but no. Of course you can’t, not after this. What you’ve done tonight will add at least a few more days to your grounding.’ He looked as if I’d just told him the sky had fallen in. ‘Spencer, love, you can’t just do as you please, you know. The adults make the rules and you – as the child – have to accept that.’

      ‘Casey’s right, lad,’ Mike agreed, coming into the kitchen to join us. ‘Rules are there for a reason. Most of the time they are there to keep you safe.’ He turned to me. ‘Grab Spencer’s points sheet, will you, Casey? Then we can look at how he stands as far as today goes.’

      I reached for the sheet and joined the two of them at the table, while Mike quietly went through the points and rewards with Spencer, urging him to work out how they balanced by himself.

      ‘So I won’t get any polite and respect points today, then?’ he asked.

      I shook my head. ‘Obviously not.’

      ‘An’ I don’t suppose I’ll be getting my “bed on time” points either?’ We all looked at the clock then. It was way past 9 p.m.

      ‘Obviously not,’ I said again. I pointed to the chart. ‘So you see, you couldn’t afford to buy “peer time” in any case. Even without being grounded. You won’t have earned sufficient points.’

      For some reason, this seemed to make Spencer a little happier. He smiled. ‘So I can’t afford it,’ he said.

      Mike nodded. ‘Exactly.’

      I watched Spencer’s expression changing and suddenly got a sense of what was happening here. He didn’t mind because he felt this was something he controlled. He couldn’t go out, not because we’d grounded him, but because he hadn’t earned sufficient points. This obviously made it feel acceptable. I smiled to myself. At last I had an inkling of what made this little boy tick.

      He picked his toast up. ‘Okay,’ he said cheerfully.

      The weekend came and went without further drama or abscondings, and Spencer spent much of it engaged in productive endeavours like painting pictures and building Lego models. And he was delightful to have around, being both polite and helpful. He helped Mike to wash his car, and also really seemed to enjoy gardening. He spent three hours with us out in the back garden on the Sunday, ‘shutting it down’ for the coming winter. And he seemed to delight, like any little boy, in getting plastered in mud, as he enthusiastically unearthed an assortment of bugs and spiders, as he helped pull up the last of the straggly weeds.

      But the kids who came to us didn’t do so because they were impeccable little angels, so it was perhaps silly of me to have been lulled into a false sense of security. But I clearly had, as I found out the following Tuesday. In fact, I was brought down to earth with quite a bang.

      It was an ordinary sort of Tuesday, so after dropping Spencer off at school I’d decided that once I’d done a bit of housework I’d pop into town. I had to go to the bank, and I also thought I’d take the opportunity to nip into my favourite children’s shop, which was nearby. I was just setting off there when a car pulled up outside. It was Kieron and Lauren, wanting to come and use my internet.

      ‘We’ll come back later,’ they said, seeing as I was obviously going out.

      ‘No, it’s fine,’ I said. It was good to see them any time, of course, and, what with Spencer coming, it felt like we’d not seen enough of them lately, so I didn’t want to send them packing the very minute they arrived. Far from it. ‘Come in,’ I said. ‘You can do what you want to do, and then make us all some lunch for when I’m back. And then we can all have a proper catch-up.’

      Happily they agreed to my cheeky request, and I trotted off, my day already lifted.

      It was Levi’s third birthday in November, just a few weeks away now, and my main aim while I was out was to pick him up some presents, so after I’d done my banking I had a lovely half hour choosing the sort of gorgeous little clothes for him – funky jeans and tiny chinos – that Riley wouldn’t dream of splurging so extravagantly on herself. I wouldn’t myself normally, but I was actually feeling a bit flush at the moment, having recently kicked my longstanding smoking habit, with the little ones being my main motivation.

      With that in mind, I also popped into the chemist’s and picked up some more herbal cigarettes; they were pretty foul but so far I’d managed to stay on board the wagon, so it was in a jaunty mood that I finally arrived home.

      But it seemed Kieron and Lauren’s was less so.

      ‘Get the kettle on!’ I shouted as I came in through the front door, only to have Lauren pop her head out from around the kitchen door frame, her index finger held against her lips.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

      ‘Kieron’s on the phone to school,’ she whispered.

      ‘To what school?’ I asked, confused.

      ‘To Spencer’s school,’ she explained, as I followed her into the living room, where Kieron was just now hanging up. His face was a picture of anguish.

      ‘What’s wrong, love?’ I asked, fearing something dreadful had happened. Had Spencer run away again? Had some harm come to him? What?

      Kieron shook his head sadly. ‘You know your chain?’ he started. ‘Your one with the gold musical note, that Dad bought you?’ I nodded. ‘Well, they called to say Spencer’s teacher has just found it in his tray – his tray at school. And seven pounds, as well.’ He looked vexed now. ‘Mum, where would he get seven pounds from?’

      ‘My СКАЧАТЬ