Wednesday's Child (24 page)

My other concern (and it was a concern because I knew I was going to be asked) was: what exactly did I want from the review? Connie was no more ready to be placed in care than Gillian was, and anyway I had promised her that I would not go down that road. I was seeing her twice a week at the health centre, and although I was extremely dissatisfied at how little progress I was making, I
was
meeting her regularly and without any interference. As I thought about the case, something suddenly occurred to me: I had visited Connie countless times. I had also been with her parents and the rest of her family on a number of occasions. But I had never encountered them all together.
I had never seen Connie with her parents!
Thinking back on my visits to the Kelly home, I realised that I almost always had to cut them short due to the levels of violence or insanity.
Which was, of course, why I had booked the room in the health centre for my homework sessions with Connie.

Perhaps, I thought, if I could get Connie at home, I would see something that I had missed. What was her body language like around her parents? How did they react to her? The Kellys had always made any visits so unpleasant that I rarely went to see them – but perhaps that was their intention. I decided that the most sensible course of action was to ask the review board to seek a Supervision Order for Connie. This meant that the court would issue a writ insisting that Connie’s parents allow health board staff to see her, in the family home if need be and on a regular basis, even if they visited every day.

The review went better than I had expected. The professionals met first, each delivering their reports on how the Kellys had been over the past twelve months. Josephine chaired the meeting. We heard from the family psychiatrist, from Connie’s principal (Ms Duff had decided not to attend), from Sinéad, who was still peripherally involved in the case, and finally I was asked to give my report. It had the desired effect. The group was amazed and slightly uncomfortable. Why had no one heard these details before? Eventually Dr Maloney, the psychiatrist, spoke up and voiced the question that was on everyone’s lips.

‘This is … this is very distressing. Can I ask you, Mr Dunphy, where did you get this information?’

‘It’s in some old files,’ Sinéad said, and I wondered if I heard a slight edge to her voice.

‘Old files?’

‘I wasn’t making any progress with Connie, wasn’t learning anything. So, since I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I looked back through the records on the family. It’s all there, Doctor. It hasn’t been hidden away.’

‘Well, we must do something, I think.’

‘What would you propose, Doctor?’ Josephine asked.

I could tell she wasn’t happy with the way the review was going, but I didn’t know why.

‘Well, this young man seems to have been the primary worker. Let’s hear what he has to say. What do you feel would be the best course of action, Mr Dunphy?’

‘I want us to apply for a Supervision Order.’

‘Could we ever stand over it?’ Josephine asked ‘The house is an extremely volatile environment.’

‘That’s what they want us to think, Jo. You’ve heard the reports here today. Mr and Mrs Kelly are more or less at equilibrium. Why is it that they always seem to have an episode when one of us is there? I think it’s because they’re hiding something, and don’t want us around.’

‘I’m not sure if that’s true, but they are most certainly not a serious risk at the moment,’ Dr Maloney said. ‘Why don’t we get them in here and see what they have to say?’

Mr and Mrs Kelly were scarcely recognisable. They were clean, well-groomed and smartly dressed. They were introduced to everyone, and each of us gave a summarised and de-jargonised account of what had been said. The Kellys said very little during this, except to explain that Connie had chosen not to attend and to ask Dr Maloney a few questions. They seemed to be very anxious to please him and he in turn was polite and pleasant with them. I sensed that there was a genuine fondness there, and I was glad. It was good that at least
one
of the professionals involved had some affection for them. They were a difficult and unloved couple, and perhaps that had contributed to the problems they had experienced.

When each of us had spoken, Josephine broached the issue of the Supervision Order. In fairness to her, she said that the request was coming from the group – it would have been easy to blame me, but she didn’t. The Kellys looked at her blankly. They didn’t know what a Supervision Order was.

‘This means that, if the Order is granted, the judge would say that a health board person, Shane there for example, would have to come and see Connie on a regular basis, and that when he came, you would have to let him into the house and not make life difficult for him when he got there.’

We all waited for their response. For a moment it seemed that they were still uncertain as to what we were talking about. Then Mrs Kelly started wailing. Her face did not crumple like other people’s do when
they start crying; she just opened her mouth and noise came out. She also began to rock. As she did so the table we were all sitting around thumped and thudded on the floor as her gut rebounded off its edge where she sat. Mr Kelly continued to sit next to her, smiling benignly at everyone. The review meeting was over. If anyone had been in doubt about the need for a Supervision Order, they were not any more. Despite themselves, the Kellys had made my point for me.

After the meeting, I decided to act on a hunch, one that I hoped would further enlighten me as to what was really going on with Connie.

I parked my car half a mile up the road from the estate, just inside a narrow laneway and out of sight from the road, and then walked the distance to the horseshoe of houses. But I didn’t go to the Kelly house. I went right across the road and knocked on the door of a little bungalow.

Mrs Jones was a tiny woman, stooped with age and almost bald. She leaned on her walking stick and squinted up at me in the waning evening light, and I saw that she had a wispy beard of white hair. I was reminded of Yoda, from the
Star Wars
movies.

‘What?’ she asked, peering at me, looking puzzled.

‘Mrs Jones, I’m a friend of Connie’s. Can I step in for a moment?’

A look of panic spread across her face and she peered around me at number 8.

‘No! You have to go! I know who you are, and you have to go. If they see you here, I’ll be in trouble. They won’t care that I’m an old woman. That won’t matter to
them
. Now go away. Shoo!’

‘Mrs Jones, no one knows I’m here. Mr and Mrs Kelly are in town, and I know that Mick is away having tests done. You are completely safe.’

She glanced about suspiciously and then beckoned me in, closing the door quickly and shuffling down the hall to the kitchen. She sat on a kitchen chair and looked at me expectantly.

‘What do you want with me?’

‘Connie tells me you’ve been very good to her.’

‘Yes. That’s not a crime, is it?’

‘I’m not a policeman, Mrs Jones.’

‘She is a sweet child who has suffered. My own children are long gone. I’m alone in this vale of tears. She is company for me – and she’s safe here.’

‘Safe from what? How has she suffered?’

‘You won’t get that from me. Enough to say she comes and sleeps here and she knows her rest will not be disturbed.’

‘She comes every night?’

‘She has not slept in that house for three years now.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Well, you do now. You must go. I have nothing further to tell you. You leave me alone now.’

‘What’s going on over there, Mrs Jones? I want to help her – I want to stop it, whatever it is. If you tell me, I can do something about it.’

‘You are a foolish young man. You will only make things worse, worse for all of us. We have ways of doing things, around here, that you would not understand. She’s safe with me.’

‘Not all the time. Where is she now?’

‘She’s all right.’

‘Is she here?’

Something flitted across her eyes. It was only a tiny movement, but I caught it. She had shown me straight into the kitchen. I didn’t know how many rooms were in these little houses, but there were at least three more than the one we were in. I figured that Connie was either in the living room or the bedroom. I decided not to push her on it.

‘Will you tell her something for me, Mrs Jones? Tell her I only want what’s best for her. I know that bad things have happened to her, and probably still are happening from time to time. If she’ll just talk to me … I want to help.’

Mrs Jones remained impassive on her chair. I had no idea whether or not I had made any impression on her.

‘I’ll see myself out.’

I moved as quickly as I could to the road so that none of the neighbours could get a good look at me. I stopped to light a cigarette, and as I did I glanced back at the bungalow. The edge of one of the curtains was pulled back for a second as someone looked out. I flicked the lid of my Zippo closed and put it back in my pocket, gazing at that window. Was it Connie?
If it was, she’d heard what I had said. Maybe it would make a difference. Maybe.

I started back towards my car. When I got there, one of my tyres was flat, with a long slash right through to the tube. Someone had spotted me, after all, and wanted to let me know. I looked around the hedges and ditches to see if I could spy anyone. If the culprit was there, that person silently watched me change the wheel, listening as I cursed loudly and colourfully.

I rang Father Dashiell, the McCoy’s parish priest.

‘No one has seen Max in several weeks’, he said.

‘Father, it’s imperative that I speak to him. I’ve managed to secure a place for him in the detox centre again. Their conditions are that he
must
make contact with them himself and convince them that he’s a willing participant. Do you have a key to his house?’

‘No. I don’t know anyone who has a spare. He is a very private man. I have no idea whether or not he is at his house, or has gone back to England. I would think that some delicate questioning at the local off-licence may bear some fruit. I believe – I believe that he is at his lowest ebb, at the moment. The loss of his children has been a sore trial.’

‘I understand that. It was necessary, Father. If there had been another way …’

‘Of course. I hope you find him. He needs all the help he can get.’

‘I’ll find him.’

I borrowed Francesca’s car. She had never worked with Max, and he wouldn’t know the car as a health board vehicle. At eleven o’clock on a Tuesday morning I did as the good Father had suggested and stopped off at the local off-licence. They saw Max almost daily. That meant, as I had suspected, that he was holed up in the house.

All the curtains were drawn. The window through which Victor had climbed had been repaired. I parked slightly up the road, turned off the engine, and waited. I had brought along some sandwiches, a flask of coffee and I had all the time in the world.

Two hours later the sandwiches were eaten, the coffee was drunk, I was bursting to go to the toilet and I was bored out of my mind. I had a book in the back, but I was afraid to read it in case I missed Max when he came out. For the same reason, I was unwilling to nip down the road to the nearest pub to use the toilet.

An hour and a half later, I decided To hell with it! and went into the pub, buying a box of cigarettes while I was there. I reasoned that he had to walk past the pub to get to the off-licence, so I would see him on the way back. Feeling somewhat relieved but somewhat ineffective, I returned to my post.

At eight o’clock that night, Max walked stiffly out of his front door. He looked utterly wretched, a scraggy, unkempt beard that was more neglect than design covering his chin, a filthy pair of jeans hanging off his arse and a jumper that looked like it had not
seen a washing machine in many months about his torso. He turned right at the gate and walked towards town. I let him get a good distance ahead, and then drove past him, keeping him in sight in the rear-view mirror. I parked across from the off-licence and waited. Max had to go this way, so if he was, in fact, shopping for bread or milk, I would see him going into the corner shop as opposed to the liquor store. Unfortunately, groceries were not his target this evening, and he turned into the off-licence as expected. I got out of the car and followed him in.