I pulled a face at him. ‘Kieron, honestly. You are how old, exactly? C’mon Mike, love, take him away so he can play with the big boys!’
With more ribbing and a touch more teasing from Justin, they were finally out of the front door and the house was still. Justin went back to the PlayStation and I decided to leave him for a short while, mostly so I could gather my own thoughts before confronting the unpalatable task I had in store.
Fifteen minutes later, it being lunchtime, I decided to call him to the kitchen. I’d made us both sandwiches and put the plates on the table. He pulled out a chair, sat down and picked up his.
‘I was only messing about, Casey,’ he said to me, without prompting. ‘I won’t really mess up Kieron’s game.’
I was touched at this. ‘I never thought you would, love. And nor did Kieron. Just a bit of fun, eh? Do you want a glass of milk?’
He nodded, and remembered to swallow before replying. ‘Yes, please,’ he said. ‘And can I have some crisps, too? I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving!’ I answered, going to the cupboard to get a packet. ‘I’d think something was seriously up if you weren’t!’ I came to the table then, sensing my moment. ‘By the way, love,’ I said lightly. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you. You know the chat we had Thursday? You know, about your mum and stuff?’
Silence. He just sat and stared at the sandwich, which he had just put back down on his plate. Shit, I thought. Shit. I should have left this till later. Give him a couple of days to regain his equilibrium. But I’d started now, so I’d have to see it through. ‘Well, the thing is,’ I went on, ‘you remember me telling you I’d have to speak to Harrison and John about some of it? Well, I’ve had a chat with them, because … well, because some of it’s kind of worrying, isn’t it, love? And they need to understand about some of the things that have happened to you so that they can help you too. As well as me …’ I stopped then. In fact, I was literally stopped in my tracks, because Justin was staring at me and his face had completely changed. Even though I knew that at any moment there’d be a huge eruption, I just couldn’t help but be mesmerised by his expression. I’d never seen anything quite like it – before or since. It was honestly like looking at one of those horror films, in which a human morphed into a werewolf in slow motion. His eyebrows lowered and seemed to merge into one long angry line, while his eyes darkened – really darkened; almost to black. His cheekbones became prominent and his mouth curled into a kind of sneer. I had to keep telling myself he’s just a child, he’s just eleven, that’s all – because it really was that chilling to observe.
He slowly raised his head – here it comes, I thought, here it comes – placed both hands on the table, rose, and pushed his chair back.
‘Don’t worry, Justin,’ I tried. ‘They won’t tell anyone. It’s confidential. They won’t do anything to get you into trouble. You’re not in trouble. They just want to help you. We all do!’
‘You fucking bitch,’ he said quietly. In fact, his voice was astonishingly level. Even so, I knew this could very soon get ugly.
‘Justin,’ I said firmly. ‘Please don’t speak to me like that. You’ll lose points now, and that’s such a shame. You’ve done so well so far today.’ I was clutching at straws and I knew it.
‘Fuck the points,’ he growled at me. ‘And fuck you too. You said I could trust you!’
‘But you can!’
‘No I can’t! You’re a liar. A fucking liar! Why did you have to tell them? Why? I’m not staying here.’ He kicked the chair out of his way. ‘I’m not staying! You’re just like my mother!’
He then grabbed his plate – smash. It hit the kitchen wall, hard, and I ducked out of the way simultaneously, instinctively, even though I could see that, thank God, he hadn’t actually aimed it at me. That sort of aggression, I reflected, even in the midst of what was happening, might have proved a step way too far to get back from. But then, I’d yet to know what was still to come.
He started punching the table now, with clenched fists, making the rest of the things on it dance and clatter across the surface, like flotsam and jetsam on a stormy sea.
I snatched up my own plate, before it too was smashed into pieces. ‘Justin!’ I had raised my voice now. I had to stay calm but in charge. ‘Go to your room until you’re calm! I will not speak to you while you’re reacting like this.’ I picked up his milk glass, as well. ‘I know you’re angry,’ I went on. ‘I understand that. And I’m sorry you feel that way, I really am. But I will not have you speaking or behaving in this manner. Go on!’ I finished, trying to inject my voice with maximum authority. ‘Move it, okay. Move it now!’
Please, I thought, watching him decide whether to obey me. Please, I thought, don’t make this any worse. Just go. But I could sense his indecision so I rammed my point home again. ‘Justin, I am not going to talk to myself here! Room!’ I jabbed a finger towards the door. ‘Room, now!’
That did it. He stormed to his room, slamming every door he walked through, screaming obscenities as he went.
I touched my chest. My heart was pumping like a train. It was as if the whole fabric of the house was shuddering.
After I’d cleared up the broken crockery and re-established some sort of order, I sat in the kitchen for some time, feeling terrible. I had had to tell – it was my job to pass on things like this – but I felt I’d gone about things all wrong. Surely I could have prepared Justin more, or found a better way to tell him what had had to happen. It really brought it home to me how much I still had to learn about this new career I’d chosen – Mike and I had both chosen – not to mention having a very stark and physical reminder of what an incredibly big and demanding job it was.
I took a deep breath and stooped to collect a small piece of broken plate under the table, which I’d missed, surprised to see that I was physically shaking. In all my time in the school unit, I’d never felt quite so vulnerable and shaken up. How the hell had an eleven-year-old reduced me to this? I reached for my cigarettes on autopilot and went outside to light one. But I couldn’t because my hands wouldn’t stay still long enough to make the lighter work.
How could this be? I had worked with some of the most difficult children for years, and I tried hard to look back and think of a comparable event. I was angry with myself, and with the situation too. It seemed that the one time, in fact, the first time, that I had an ‘in’ to Justin, I’d had to – through no fault of my own – then destroy it. Yes, it was the protocol, but it was bloody hard to swallow, and I wasn’t sure I trusted the protocol any more.
It took me a long time to calm down, and once I had, I tried to call Mike, but he obviously had no signal at the football ground because his phone was going straight to voicemail. I knew he wouldn’t be back till teatime either, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought about asking Riley to come over but I was worried that might just make Justin worse.
I spent some time feeling completely undecided, just standing in the conservatory, smoking, staring out into the garden. Should I go up to him and see if he’d calmed down, or should I not? In the end, I opted not to because I thought it might just exacerbate the situation and ignite a further confrontation. I was also nervous and wary about facing him again, alone. He’d scared me quite a bit and I had knots in my stomach just thinking about going up there. Best to just leave him and hope he stayed put and had calmed down by the time Mike got home.
In the meantime, I needed to get on with something, so after I’d cleared the last of the mess up and binned the remains of Justin’s sandwich, I set about preparing that evening’s tea. I’d planned home-made chicken korma with rice – one of Kieron’s favourites, and now methodically pulled the ingredients from the fridge. Chicken breasts, peppers, onions and garlic, all of which I assembled and started chopping and crushing. It was strangely therapeutic, doing this rhythmic,