A Boy Without Hope: Part 3 of 3. Casey Watson

for your arrival, without success. I even told him you’d march up there and do the work right there on his bed, but he still won’t come down, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Well if you don’t mind, that’s exactly what I will do,’ he said. ‘When I’m right there in front of them, most boys tend to listen to what I have to say. Would that be okay with you?’

      I had no doubt at all that most boys would listen to this imposing fellow, but would Miller? Though he was in the habit of listening more to males rather than females, he wasn’t ‘most boys’ – far from it. Still, after the fraught, defeated expressions of my earlier visitors, this young man’s demeanour was like a breath of fresh air. ‘That would be great,’ I said. ‘Though you’ll probably have to open his curtains, and please ignore the state of his room, but, yes, please, be my guest. Top of the stairs, turn right, second room. ’

      He patted his laptop. ‘Leave it to me,’ he said with a grin. ‘All I need is this and my charming banter, and he’ll be putty in my hands.’

      Bolstered and inspired by his confidence, I left him to it, but still crossed my fingers for good measure. Perhaps a stranger of this kind coming in would flip some switch and get him to communicate properly, in a two-way conversation. But I wasn’t holding my breath.

      I’d been right not to, as well. Because half an hour later, David Helm was back downstairs, looking decidedly more frazzled than when he went up. ‘Wow,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘That was a career first. What an odd experience.’