Simon Lelic - The Child Who

‘So he was excluded?’

‘He was excluded.’

‘Permanently?’

‘Permanently.’

‘But after a term, you say? A single term. Is that, I don’t know. Is that not unusual?’

‘Ordinarily perhaps but not given the boy’s history. And we were warned about him, as I say. We expected trouble. We were prepared, all along, to take extreme measures should they be called for.’

‘Well,’ said Leo, ‘clearly. But expulsion, I’d always assumed, is a last resort. Isn’t there a process? A gradual escalation in sanctions?’

‘Sanctions escalate in line with the behaviour that warrants them. It was not his first offence, by any means, and the boy, after all, attacked a teacher. How could we do anything thereafter but exclude him?’

‘I understand but would not a suspension have sufficed? Or, I don’t know…’

Ms Bridgwater did not wait for Leo to finish. ‘I have staff to protect, Mr Curtice. I have children under my ward. In view of the reason for your visit, I must say I struggle to comprehend your disapproval.’

‘Disapproval? No, I…’ Leo moved in his seat. Ms Bridgwater was watching him and he looked towards the window to avoid her eye. The head teacher’s office was on the first floor at the front of the main building – a squat Sixties structure assembled from shades of grey – and pupils were beginning to appear in the playground below them. There was a boy, alone, rummaging in his rucksack and weaving towards the entrance. In his wake whirled a gossip of girls.

‘You’ve met Daniel, Mr Curtice. You know the kind of boy he is. You know, more to the point, what he is capable of. We acted with alacrity and I can only be thankful, for the sake of our school, our pupils, that we did.’

Leo turned to face her. His nod started slowly and gathered pace.

‘As much as it pains me to say it, Mr Curtice, some children are beyond help. They are born bad, plain and simple. I have seen many, in my time, though few quite so wicked as Daniel Blake.’

Leo, again, gave a nod. He looked towards the clock on the office wall. He reached for his briefcase and stood. ‘I should get along.’ He gestured towards the window, to the trickle of children that was becoming a torrent. ‘I expect you must too. Thank you for your time, Ms Bridgwater.’

The head teacher pressed the desk until she was standing. ‘Please send Eleanor my very best wishes. She should of course take all the time she needs to recover from her ordeal.’

‘Thank you. I will.’ Leo shifted his briefcase and accepted the woman’s grip. He nodded, turned and pushed at the door until he realised he needed to pull. In the corridor he walked slowly, and was slowed further on the stairs by the tide of children. It was only when he reached the car park that he realised what Ms Bridgwater had achieved. Confirmation. A name to toss to her peers and renown, no doubt, for having won it. All she had really hoped to, then.

Some children are born bad. Isn’t that what the head teacher had said? They are born bad and there is nothing that anyone can do. The teachers: they tried their best. The parents: they did too. It is not as though the boy was denied opportunities. It is not as though he was not shown right from wrong. So how else can you explain it? He was born bad, Mr Curtice: bottom line, end of story, case closed.

‘Case closed. Right?’

Leo looked up from his open briefcase. Daniel’s stepfather was the only one standing. He had his feet hip-width apart and his arms across his pectorals. Stephanie, his wife, was seated to Leo’s right, her chair as far from the table as the wall behind her would allow, her chin offset and her bloodshot eyes on the floor. Daniel, across from her, faced his knees. His hands were pinned between them, his shoulders drawn inwards. He seemed a slight, feeble thing – though so, Leo reminded himself, might any wild creature that had been caged.

‘Right?’ Blake repeated. ‘Sounds to me like a no-brainer.’

Leo took out his files and set his briefcase beside his feet. ‘It’s not quite that simple, Mr Blake. As with any of the options open to us, there are risks.’

Blake showed his incomprehension through a sneer.

‘The sentence,’ said Leo. He glanced at the boy. ‘The sentence, if the argument is rejected, might still be… harsh.’

‘Harsh? How harsh?’

Again Leo looked towards Daniel.

‘Never mind,’ said Blake, flicking a hand. ‘It’s his best bet, that’s the point. That’s what you’re saying. Right?’

‘Not necessarily. All I’m doing, at this stage, is laying out some of the—’

‘I’m not mental.’

They turned to the boy. His voice had been a whisper. His face, like his manner, was downcast.

‘No one’s saying that you are, Daniel. We would simply argue that you were not responsible for your actions, on the grounds that—’

‘What would you call it then?’ interrupted Daniel’s stepfather. ‘Why the hell else would you have done what you did?’

Daniel’s mother gave a whimper.

‘Mr Blake,’ said Leo. ‘Please.’

‘Well?’ the man persisted. He was leaning towards his stepson but not, Leo would have said, as close as he might have. When Daniel raised his eyes – full of misery; fear, too, though checked by his obvious resentment – Blake backed slightly away. He disguised his retreat with a grunt. ‘Not mental, he says. Like that makes everything all right. Like anyone’s gonna think less of him if he ends up in a loony bin instead of in prison.’

‘Mr Blake—’

‘Talk to your son, Steph, for Christ’s sake. Don’t just bloody sit there.’

Daniel’s mother did precisely that.

‘You saw what happened outside the court,’ Blake persisted. ‘They’ll tear him apart if he goes to prison. Ask your ex, Daniel’s father: ask him. He’s inside, he knows what it’s like. Daniel won’t last five minutes. They’ll rip him to pieces, even before they find out what he’s done.’

Stephanie, this time, choked back a sob.

‘Oh Christ. Here we go.’ Blake looked at Leo, as though expecting him to mirror his rolling eyes. ‘Power up the sprinklers: that’ll help. Sit there feeling sorry for yourself when it’s your son – your bloody son – who’s just confessed to murder, who’s gonna spend rest of his worthless life, probably, in some stinking, piss-stained—’

‘Mr Blake! That’s enough!’

At the sound of Leo’s raised voice, the guard outside the door framed his face in the security glass. When Leo raised a hand, he returned a frown – then reluctantly, it seemed, revolved away. Blake, meanwhile, had settled his snarl on Leo. He made a gun shape with his fingers and spoke down the barrel.

‘You listen to me, Curtice. This is my family, my business. You’re just the hired help. Do you get me?’

Twerp. Obnoxious, poisonous, vicious little twerp.

But: ‘I get you, Mr Blake.’ There was a hint of a challenge in Leo’s tone but he let it fade. ‘And I apologise for raising my voice. The purpose of this discussion is to lay down some options. That’s all. We do not need to make any decisions right away.’

With a snort, Daniel’s stepfather made plain what he thought of Leo’s options.

‘Also,’ Leo said, ‘I had hoped to clarify where things stand. From a procedural perspective, I mean.’ He turned to Stephanie. ‘A lot’s happened in the past few days and I thought… Well. I thought you would probably have some questions.’

Daniel’s mother, after a pause, gave a nod. She did not look up, however. She did not speak.

‘The remand hearing, for instance. The court visit. Did you understand the implications?’