Simon Beckett - Owning Jacob - SA

The social worker shifted uneasily in his seat. “I spoke to them yesterday. They—” He broke off as the door opened.

The solicitor who had represented Kale before bustled in. He was red-faced and flustered. “Sorry we’re late,” he apologised. “There was, ah, a bit of a hold-up.”

He didn’t explain further and no one asked as first Sandra and then Kale himself entered.

Sandra didn’t look at anyone as she took her seat by the solicitor. She was, for her, conservatively dressed in a long-sleeved sweater and a skirt that came down to her knees. Kale wore the same creased suit Ben had seen him in before. He gazed unblinkingly around the room as he walked in.

When he saw Ben he stopped dead.

“Er, Mr Kale...” his solicitor said. Sandra was looking down at her lap. Kale stayed where he was for a moment longer, then went and sat down. He didn’t take his eyes from Ben.

The grey-haired woman cleared her throat. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming. My name’s Andrea Rogers and I’ll be chairing this conference. Rather than have separate meetings, both Mr and Mrs Kale and Mr Murray have agreed to attend together and to share information.” She turned to the Kales. “Ordinarily, I’d take a few minutes to have a word with you in private before we started, but as we’re running late I’m afraid we’ll have to move straight on.”

Sandra didn’t lift her head at the implied censure. Kale continued to stare at Ben as the co-ordinator introduced the various welfare officers and professionals in the room. The last person she came to was a social worker from the local authority where Sandra Kale used to live.

Ben saw Sandra stiffen when he was introduced.

“Before we begin I’d like to stress that this isn’t a legal hearing of any kind,” Rogers said. “No one’s on trial here. The aim of this case conference is to consider various concerns which have been raised about Jacob’s welfare, and to decide whether or not they provide grounds to put him on the Child Protection Register.”

Kale swivelled his head towards her. “You’re not taking him away.”

“No one’s suggesting that, Mr Kale. But a complaint has been made, and we have a duty to examine it.” She held his gaze calmly before turning back to her notes. “The basis of complaint is with regards to Jacob’s schooling and special needs. Also that some of your actions may have put him at physical risk, and may continue to do so. In addition we have to consider new information which has come to light about your wife that was overlooked by the local authority.”

Sandra seemed to shrink into herself. Ben felt the weight of Kale’s stare shift back to him.

“Where is Jacob today?” Rogers asked.

“He’s actually at school,” Kale’s solicitor answered, throwing it up for approval. “My client is now aware of the importance of his son’s education, and has given me an undertaking that he will attend as normal in future.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But I’m afraid we still need to satisfy ourselves that the undertaking will be adhered to. And we also have to consider any additional action that may have to be taken to make up for such a long period of deprivation.”

“My client realises that, and—”

“He’s not deprived of anything,” Kale said.

“I was speaking in an educational sense,” Rogers said. “Jacob’s autistic. He needs—”

“He’s my son. I’m all he needs.”

“I know the background to this case, Mr Kale, and I do appreciate how difficult this must be for you, but allowances can only be made so far. We’re here to try and decide—”

“There’s nothing to decide.”

Rogers glanced at Kale’s solicitor. “Perhaps you can explain to your client that it’s in his own interests to co-operate, Mr Barclay. He’ll have a chance to give his views later, but right now there’s nothing to be gained by obstruction.”

The solicitor anxiously leaned towards Kale and began whispering to him. There was a general shuffling of papers as everyone else pretended not to take any notice. Kale didn’t speak but his jaw muscles were bunched tightly.

Ben felt the policewoman looking at him. She gave him a cold stare when he smiled at her.

Finally Kale’s solicitor sat back, but with the cautious air of a man willing a precarious structure to hold. He smiled unconvincingly at Rogers.

“Okay,” he said.

The professionals all had their say. An education welfare officer spoke first. He was a short, plump man with a stubbly beard.

He described the excuses made by Sandra for Jacob’s absence from school; that he was ill, he had a cold, a temperature, then told how he had recently visited the scrapyard and found Jacob sitting in a derelict car while his father used a cutting torch near by.

“He didn’t appear to be ill, and there was certainly no reason I could see why he shouldn’t be at school. When I asked Mr Kale why he wasn’t, he refused to answer.” He glanced at Kale. “In fact he didn’t say anything at all. He continued working as if I wasn’t there.”

Ben imagined Kale with a cutting torch in his hand and thought the man had got off lightly.

A child psychologist spoke next. She was a specialist in autism, and stressed the importance of special schooling and mixing with other children. Depriving an autistic child of these was ‘irresponsible’, she said, and the way she avoided looking at Kale as she spoke was eloquence itself. Kale sat through it all as if it were nothing to do with him.

The social worker from Sandra’s old authority had a boyish face that was falling in on itself. Speaking with a faint stammer, he told them that she had been drunk on the night when her daughter was taken into care. Police had raided the council flat where she lived with her husband, intending to arrest him on drug charges, and found the baby girl dehydrated and half starved, and lying in her own urine and faeces.

Sandra kept her head down as he described the injuries that had been discovered when the child had been admitted to hospital, the evidence of broken bones partially healed, internal bruising, a fractured skull.

“The father admitted hitting her,” the social worker said. “He said it was to shut her up. He blamed his wife, but only because she couldn’t keep the child quiet. He didn’t appear to think he’d done anything wrong. The little girl died in hospital three days later, from pneumonia. Wayne Carter was sentenced to three years for manslaughter, and another two for drug-related charges. Mrs Carter—” he inclined his head at Sandra, who had her hand shielding her eyes “—was found guilty of neglect, but it was felt she’d been dominated and frightened by her husband. She was put on a year’s probation. After that she moved out of the authority’s jurisdiction.” He closed his file. “That’s all.”

There was a choked noise from Sandra. Her shoulders heaved as she covered her face. Ben saw that her nails were raw. He stamped on the involuntary stirring of pity.

“Are you all right, Mrs Kale?” Rogers asked.

She nodded without lifting her head. Her hair bounced up and down. The dark roots looked sad and vulnerable against the bleached yellow.

“Would you like to take a break? We can—”

“Just get it over with.” Sandra wiped her eyes and lowered her hands. Her face was red and blotchy. The solicitor handed her a tissue, which she took silently.

Kale watched her, impassive, then looked away. She might have been something he had never seen before.

Rogers turned to Carlisle. “I think it’s time we heard the social services” views, Mr Carlisle.”

The social worker drew a deep breath. “Ah, well, to start with I think I should point out that although Mrs Kale — or Mrs Carter as she was then — failed to protect the child from its father, she had no direct involvement in her daughter’s death. So while the, uh, breakdown in communication was unfortunate—”