Listening to Justin now – hearing exactly what did happen, and how the fire had been deliberate, not the result of any playing with lighters or matches – it seemed clear to me that something had snapped in him that day, taken him past the end of his tether. And no wonder. He was five and had been living in hell, and not a single adult had done anything to help him. The sexual abuse, the crying babies, the bullying – it didn’t matter which. What most mattered, from what Justin was saying to me now, was that in that instant of returning home, wet, cold, miserable and needing his mum, he just knew it would never get better, never change, and that this was one way to get something done. He couldn’t have known what – he was far too young to make such rational decisions. Cliché or otherwise, it had been a cry for help.
Justin had no explanation, and I didn’t press for one, for what made him do what he did. And how could he? He’d been five. Not this sad, damaged, self-harming eleven-year-old, that no-one had ever seemed to love, who was cradled in my arms now. But just five. Would he even have had an explanation? I doubted it. He just knew, seeing the dog licking the shit from his brother’s cot bars, that this was it. This was life. And he simply couldn’t cope with it any more.
‘I wanted Dylan to die,’ he told me, though I hadn’t actually asked him about it; I had only wondered, as I assume other people had before me, why he’d got his little brothers out of the house but not the family pet. But then, clearly, this was no sort of ‘family’ pet.
‘I hated him,’ Justin said. ‘I hated him because she loved him. He was her dog and she loved him better than us. She used to cuddle him and pet him. Do you know, she even had a photo of him on the front-room wall. Not of us kids. Oh no, just the dog. And he got food – she always seemed to be able to get food for him. An’ I wanted to pay her back. Teach her a lesson. And I did.’
I felt a new tightness in my throat as I thought about just how high a price that five-year-old boy paid for exacting that revenge. ‘I know, love,’ I said soothingly. ‘I know.’
It had taken some time for social services to track down Justin’s mother on the day of the fire. She’d been with her ‘boyfriend’, somewhere else on the estate, far enough away not to hear either the commotion or the sirens. It had been the next-door neighbours who’d called the fire brigade to alert them about the house fire, and they’d arrived to find both Justin and his little brothers all huddled beneath the duvet, in the garden, the little ones terrified, but Justin himself seemingly mute.
‘She didn’t want them to take me,’ he said, as I finally gathered my wits about me and began dealing with cleaning and dressing the cuts and gouges on his feet. He seemed so much calmer now he’d told me his story. ‘She didn’t want them to at all,’ he repeated. ‘She did love me an’ my brothers really …’ he paused here. ‘She did. But she had to, they told her she did. They said if she didn’t let them take me away she’d have to go to prison. So I had to go with them. Or else she’d have gone to prison.’
I bit my tongue, remembering John’s words when he’d first told us about Justin. Voluntary care order. That much was crystal clear. ‘I know, love,’ I said again. ‘It must have been horrible. Horrible for all of you. There,’ I finished, beckoning him to inspect his cleaned wounds. ‘It’s important we keep them clean now, so they’ll heal.’ I looked closely at him, realising just how much time had passed now. We’d been up here for hours. ‘You must be hungry,’ I said. ‘It’s way past your normal breakfast time. Shall we go down and I’ll get you something nice to eat?’
But he wasn’t hungry – a first – and also, for the first time since his arrival, he wasn’t bothered about the clock or the schedule either. He told me he just wanted to lie on his bed for a bit. Chill out and watch some cartoons.
‘You sure?’ I said, making to rise from the bed now. ‘I could make you some toast and bring it up.’
Justin shook his head, and then did something that shocked me to the core. He spread his arms and leaned in towards me for a hug. ‘I love you, Casey,’ he said, as I encircled him in my arms. ‘I do. I really love you, you know.’
Unable to speak now, for fear of breaking down completely, I simply nodded and hugged him tightly till he released me, then left the room.
By the time I was downstairs, my brain was whirring with it all. This was incredible progress. Progress, and also a real insight into more of Justin’s past. I must speak to John Fulshaw as soon as I could, I realised, while everything was really clear in my mind. At last I really felt we could do something to help Justin. But I got no further – my emotions were just too overwhelming to be tucked into a pocket in my mind, labelled ‘work’. So instead I just sat down and cried.
Chapter 8
It was the following Saturday morning and I was on pins.
I’d had long conversations with both John Fulshaw and Harrison Green, filling them in about what Justin had told me, and even though I understood completely that this was my fundamental responsibility as a foster carer (and one I would never consider running away from), I still felt terribly anxious about the consequences when I explained to Justin that both of them would now want to talk to him too. It had to be done, of course: quite apart from the importance of this to Justin’s psychological progress, there were larger issues, too, not the least of which was the fact that Janice still had Justin’s two brothers with her, and was expecting another. Was she still a user? Was she still fraternising with abusers, come to that? And, crucially, would these revelations involve further investigation of her by social services? If that happened, she would know where the revelations had come from, further jeopardising their already fractured relationship. That, above all, made me feel terrible about it. For I felt sure what her response to him would be.
So I felt bad. I had a powerful sense of just how big a thing it was for Justin – so private, so unable to get close to anyone, so mistrustful of the adult world – to open up to me, in many ways a stranger still myself, and to share his darkest, most painful memories. I had a strong hunch, despite my having pointed out that I’d have to share them, that he would see this as a major betrayal. And why wouldn’t he? He was eleven; how could he properly understand such things?
And it would turn out that I was right to be so fearful.
I’d elected to forgo a Saturday shopping trip with Riley (reluctantly, as quality ‘girly’ time with my daughter was, and is, one of my favourite things of all) so that I could be sure of having a period of time when Justin and I would be alone in the house. Mike always gave Kieron a lift to play football on Saturdays, and would stay to cheer him on from the sidelines.
And now that time had come and I was as antsy as hell. ‘Come on you two,’ I nagged Kieron and Mike. All three of them were playing Football Manager on the Playstation – ‘boys’ together. As happy and relaxed a family scene as you could wish for. Justin had been in a good mood all morning, in fact, which made me feel more nervous still. ‘You’re going to be late for kick-off if you don’t hurry up. And that game –’ I pointed towards the TV and console – ‘will still be here when the two of you get back.’
I was keen – we all were – that Justin get out and get more exercise, not only because he was carrying a few extra pounds, but also because we knew the emotional value of exercise; something which, for a stressed child with so many problems, such as Justin, could make a real difference to his mental state. And if he could find a sport or activity that he liked and had a flair for, it could provide a place in which he could channel his anger and aggression, and, who knew, if he worked at it, develop his self-esteem.
But despite much encouragement from both Mike and Kieron, we’d yet to persuade Justin of the pleasures of the great outdoors. Mike joked that he was afraid to even go and watch a game, just in case somebody accidentally kicked a ball in his direction. Maybe we would convince him eventually, but right now the PlayStation and TV held much more attraction, as it often did for children with difficult backgrounds and