Simon Lelic - The Child Who

‘No. I mean, I wouldn’t have been. But the pills: that’s one thing. You’re saying he was sexually abused too?’

‘I’m saying it’s likely. More than likely. For a start, eighty per cent of abusers have themselves suffered abuse. Daniel was moulded, Leo – he wasn’t manufactured.’

‘But the report.’ Leo lifted the pages, knocking his coffee cup. ‘What did it say. It said…’

‘It said they found no evidence. But it only dug as deep as it needed to, remember – mainly into the past few years. As far as I’m concerned, it skirted the most interesting period of Daniel’s life.’

Leo looked again at the pages, searching for what Karen meant.

‘There’s nothing to see,’ she told him. ‘And that’s why it’s interesting. Apart from when he was a toddler and the two years just passed, there isn’t any detail at all. Except here,’ she said, pointing to a paragraph barely three lines long. ‘There was a sustained phase of truancy, noted but never explained. It coincides with Daniel’s father leaving home, with his mother…’

‘“Coping”. Whatever that means.’

‘Exactly. So in the most traumatic period of his life – not counting the actual physical trauma he seems to have suffered – Daniel barely gets noticed. He was sexually abused, probably. His father hit him, then left him. His mother – his only carer – was clinically depressed. But through all of that Daniel was… well…’

‘He was alone.’

Karen nodded. ‘He was alone.’

The coffee in Leo’s cup had spilled onto the saucer. There were puddles, too, on the wooden tabletop and Leo dabbed at them distractedly with a napkin.

‘Can we use this, do you think?’ He was talking to himself as much as Karen but she answered anyway.

‘You’re the lawyer, Leo. It’s a narrative but there’s very little in the way of evidence.’

Leo frowned and raised his head. ‘Why now, though? Why, if Daniel was so damaged, did it take so long for the damage to show?’

‘A seed has to grow. Throw on enough manure, sprinkle a few hormones – sooner or later you reap what you sow. And probably the signs were there all along. Someone has to be watching for them, however.’

Leo pondered. ‘The abuse,’ he said, not wanting to consider it. ‘You don’t think… I mean, his stepfather. Vincent Blake. You don’t think…’

‘He seems the type, doesn’t he? But Daniel was, what? Ten when Blake came on the scene? I don’t know. There’s no love lost between them, clearly, but…’ Karen tugged her lips sideways. ‘There’s something interesting, though. Don’t you think? About Vincent’s relationship with Stephanie.’

‘Hm?’ Leo was thinking, churning.

‘Vincent and Stephanie. He bullies her and she lets him but… I don’t know. There’s something else at work there too. He’s insecure, clearly. Bitter, too, about something.’

‘I thought all bullies were insecure,’ said Leo idly. ‘I thought that’s why they ended up being bullies.’

‘I suppose.’ Karen looked at Leo and smiled. ‘You should be sitting where I am.’

Leo did not smile back. ‘I’d be glad to,’ he said. ‘ To be honest, I’d take any chair right now that wasn’t my own.’

‘You should have called me.’

‘We did call you, Mr Curtice.’

‘I mean right away. You should have called me as soon as it happened.’

‘It was late. Gone nine. Most solicitors, in my experience, don’t like to be bothered by things they think can wait until morning. Most parents, come to that.’

Bobby held open the door and Leo passed through.

‘That’s up to them. I, on the other hand, would have appreciated being told immediately. You have my home number, don’t you? Do you need me to give it to you again?’

‘No, that’s fine, we have it. I apologise, Mr Curtice. These things happen unfortunately, much as we try to prevent them. They’re boys, after all. If there’s a way to make trouble, they’ll find it. But we’ll know for next time to inform you straight away.’

Leo broke step. ‘Next time?’

Bobby made a gesture, conceding the poor choice of words.

The bruises, it turned out, were not as bad as Leo had feared. A black eye, Bobby had told him; a cut lip. Admirably restrained terminology and yet Leo had envisaged Daniel’s eyelids swollen shut, his teeth gapped and veined with blood. In reality it was difficult, but for the discoloration, to distinguish the swelling that had been caused by a knuckle from the puffiness attributable to Daniel’s tears. Not that this made the sight of the boy any more bearable. It was not, after all, the degree of physical harm Daniel had suffered that governed how wretched the assault would have left him feeling.

And wretched, from the look of him, was the term. He was a bundle of limbs on the bed, his spine to the wall at the pillow end, his knees drawn to his chin and his arms wrapped protectively around his shins. The curtains in the room were shut but the material was pale and the day bright. Even tucked in the room’s dimmest corner, Daniel was exposed.

Leo closed the door behind him. Garrie, the security guard, had not followed him inside but recently he had tended not to. The door, however, would invariably remain open and it occurred to Leo as he entered the room that this was the first time he and Daniel had ever been properly alone: unaccompanied, unguarded, unobserved. It did not alarm him, as once it might have done. Rather, it saddened him; made him feel ashamed somehow, too.

Daniel did not speak. Leo felt the boy tracking him as he crossed from the doorway to the chair. He set down his briefcase, easing it to the floor so that it made no sound. He stood, until standing felt wrong, and then he sat. Daniel looked away, tucking his puffy eyes below the peak of his knees.

‘What kind of names?’

Daniel did not reply.

‘Pay no attention. Do you hear? It doesn’t matter what they say. It doesn’t matter what they think.’

Daniel dragged a hand across his cheek. ‘S’easy for you to say.’

The boy was on the edge of the bed, legs dangling from the mattress, bare feet protruding from his tracksuit bottoms and just about brushing the linoleum. His head hung and when he spoke he spoke to the floor.

Leo was seated but barely. He had his elbows on his knees and was leaning forwards of the edge of the chair. ‘How’s the eye?’ he said. ‘Do you want some ice or something?’

Daniel just frowned.

‘For the swelling. It’ll make it hurt less.’

‘It doesn’t hurt that much. My tummy hurts more.’

His tummy. They had hit him there too, Daniel had told Leo. The oldest boy had, while the other two had held him by the arms.

The boy shifted, winced. He wiped again at his eyes.

‘Did you speak to your parents?’ Leo asked him. ‘ To your mother? Are they coming to see you?’ He checked his watch. If they were coming then surely they would have been here by now.

‘Bobby did,’ said Daniel. ‘He said… Mum said she wasn’t feeling well. She… Sometimes she doesn’t.’

‘No. Of course. Well. She’ll come by soon, I’m sure.’

Daniel raised his head. His features were wrinkled, his cheeks streaked. ‘How much longer am I going to have to be in here?’

‘Here? What, in your room?’ Leo checked the door. ‘We can go out, if you like. I’m sure we can. Do you fancy a walk? Or we could go to the games room, see if the PlayStation’s free?’

‘Not in here. In here . This place.’

Leo felt his lips part. He sighed. ‘A while, Daniel.’

‘Until the rain-thingummy?’

‘The arraignment? Yes. At least until then.’