Little Boy Lost

by Shane Dunphy

  ‘The community home, where you are now?’

  ‘Yeah. We looks out for each other there.’

  ‘We’re friends,’ Terrence said.

  ‘Best buds,’ Ross said.

  ‘I’m glad you like it,’ I said. ‘But why is Drumlin such a cool place to work?’

  Ricki’s brow furrowed and she shifted in her seat. ‘’Cause we do fun stuff, and that…’

  ‘And you didn’t do fun stuff in the last place?’

  Ricki shook her head so hard I thought it might topple off. ‘No. No way. In the institution, we didn’t do nothin’. Every day was just the same as every other day. No one talked to you, no one asked if you were all right, no one laughed or smiled or cried or sang. All we ever done was pray. I didn’t used to feel like prayin’ much, ’cause I didn’t think I had a lot to say thanks to God for. Used to get in trouble for not sayin’ me prayers.’

  ‘So Drumlin is better than that?’

  ‘Of course it is!’ Ricki said, laughing at the suggestion that it might not be. ‘Now, there are things we have to do, all right, but I know that even the things I don’t like are there ’cause I need ’em. I finds readin’ hard, ’cause I never really been to school much, but I’m gettin’ lots and lots better. I can read most of what’s in the paper, now. In the institution, I used to feel like I wasn’t worth much. I thought I was there ’cause I was a bad sort of person. I thinked that I had to be to be locked in a place like that ’cause I done somethin’ wrong. I used try really hard to remember what it was I done to deserve to be there, but I never could. But when I goes into Drumlin, I knows everyone is happy to see me and I’m glad to see them. When I says somethin’, people listen. Tristan asks me what I think about things, and when he asks, he really wants to know. Them nuns, they never hit me or did bad things… they just did… nothin’.’

  ‘So being in Drumlin has made your life better,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ Ricki said simply. ‘I would never, ever want to go back to the way things was before.’

  We talked some more, about other, lighter things, but what she had said about Tristan, and the work being done in Drumlin returned to me later, as I drove home along the dark, tree-lined country roads. Maybe, I thought, maybe it would be worth getting involved with these people. The question was: to what degree?

  9

  ‘Speak.’

  ‘Devereux, it’s Shane.’

  Karl Devereux is a colleague of mine who works on a voluntary basis as a youth worker in the city. He grew up in a slum area, and served time in prison as a result of many years spent involved in organized crime. While some involved in social care find him difficult to deal with – and a little frightening – the many young people he helps every day see only a man who knows exactly what they are going through, and who wants to extend a hand of friendship. I had, over the years, found his advice and assistance invaluable.

  ‘It’s late. Call tomorrow.’

  I looked at the clock over the fireplace. It was one thirty in the morning.

  ‘It is tomorrow, Karl. Anyway, you weren’t asleep.’

  ‘And you know this how?’

  ‘You don’t sound as if you’ve just woken up.’

  ‘And how would you know what I sound like when I’ve just woken up?’

  I had no answer for that. ‘Look, I need to run something by you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘You work as a volunteer.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Even though you’ve been offered paid work countless times.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I want to retain my independence. My freedom. If I choose to work on a case, or to help a particular child or family, then I do. If I prefer not to work with a group or an individual, then I don’t. I make my own hours, come and go as I please, and am answerable to nobody.’

  I considered this. ‘And do you feel you’re given access to all the information and support you need?’

  ‘I have my own methods for accessing information and support.’

  I had sometimes had need to use some of Devereux’s sources in the past.

  ‘Do you get the same respect as the paid staff for what you do?’

  ‘From those who count.’

  ‘But not from everyone?’

  ‘I don’t know any worker who is respected universally. My clients appreciate what I do. I know when I go to bed at night – when I’m not disturbed by ridiculous phone calls, that is – that I have done the best I can within parameters I believe in. How many people can say that?’

  ‘Fair enough, Karl. Sorry to have bothered you.’

  ‘How are things out in the sticks?’

  ‘Good so far.’

  ‘I was never a fan of country living. All that clear air tends to clog up my lungs.’

  ‘You’ll have to come out and visit.’

  ‘I’ll consider it.’

  ‘G’night, Karl.’

  ‘Look after yourself.’

  I hung up and poured myself a drink. A plan was beginning to form in my head, a way that I could get involved in what was happening in Drumlin, and still keep that little bit of distance I needed. I just hoped Tristan would go for it.

  10

  ‘You want to volunteer?’ Tristan asked me for the second time.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Work for me for no wage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I just offered you a job – a paid job – and you turned me down. Now you arrive in my office, and ask me if you can come and work here for nothing. Pardon me if I’m a bit confused.’

  I sat forward and leant my elbows on Tristan’s desk. ‘I don’t want to get caught up in contracts and conditions of employment and dental plans and all that stuff. I want to be able to come in here a couple of days a week, help out, get involved in the programme, get a feel for what you do, and be free to go home at the end of the day without all the stuff I’d have buzzing around in my head if I were a member of staff.’

  ‘You want the nice stuff without the responsibility, you mean,’ Tristan said.

  ‘I suppose you could put it that way.’

  ‘I just did.’

  Neither of us said anything.

  ‘Well?’ I prompted. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘I don’t know. Even though you’re not asking for any money, why do I feel as if you’re pulling a fast one on me?’

  ‘Maybe because you have an overly suspicious nature?’ I suggested.

  Tristan shook his head. ‘There’d have to be some limits placed on it,’ he said at last. ‘You could do that music module I suggested.’

  ‘I’d be happy to do that, but I’d want to do other things, too. Look, you’ve come a long way towards winning me over. I want to get a taste of what Drumlin is all about. I want to see why you’ve managed to change the lives of the people who come here. Maybe I want a part of that healing, too.’

  ‘Physician, heal thyself?’

  ‘Maybe I think I can’t sort my personal crap out on my own. Which is why I want to come here.’

  ‘It’s not all fun and games, Shane,’ Tristan said. ‘There’s a tough side to Drumlin, too. Part of what you say you want to run away from is here. The world doesn’t stop at the door.’

  ‘I’m not completely naive,’ I said. ‘I know that, and I accept it. I’m not talking about coming here every day, or even every other day, from nine until five. But I would like to give it a go, and see what I make of it. Think of it like this: if we do it my way, you get me at no cost, and if I can’t hack it and head for the hills, you’ve lost nothing.’

  ‘Well, that’s true.’

  ‘This is the fairest, most honest way of doing business with you that I could find.’

  Tristan nodded, and extended his hand across the table. ‘Okay, let’s give it a go. When do you want to start?’

  ‘How about next Monday?’

  ‘Next Monday it is.’

  And that was how I came to D
rumlin (Therapeutic) Training Unit.

  PART 3

  False Starts and Broken Hearts

  When all the world is old, lad,

  And all the trees are brown;

  When all the sport is stale, lad,

  And all the wheels run down;

  Creep home, and take your place there,

  The spent and maimed among:

  God grant you find one face there,

  You loved when all was young.

  From ‘Young and Old’ by

  Charles Kingsley

  11

  Drumlin’s day usually began with what was referred to as ‘news’ but was in fact more a loose chat, in which the group brought one another up to date with what was going on in their lives. The chairs were set in a circle, everyone brought their cups of tea or coffee with them (I soon discovered that tea and coffee were viewed as being vitally important at Drumlin), and Tristan or Beth would kick off proceedings with whatever titbit of information they felt like sharing. It didn’t seem to matter how apparently trivial such disclosures were (anything from a new pair of shoes to what was happening on Eastenders was discussed), what mattered was that everyone shared something. As Millie put it to me as we sat down: ‘It’s about making sure all our lads feel they have a voice and a safe place to air it. Don’t think this is all just an excuse to talk shite for half an hour. Lots of fairly important stuff gets an airing here.’

  Of course, it being my first day, I was destined to be the first item of news. Tristan called for hush, and opened proceedings.

  ‘I’d like to welcome Shane Dunphy to the unit. You all know him from when he came here to sing and play for us, but he has asked me if we would mind him being in the group a few days a week. Now, I said I didn’t mind, but this isn’t my group. How do you all feel about it?’

  That blind-sided me. I was under the impression I was in. Now, it seemed, I had another set of hurdles to get over.

  ‘I like Shane,’ Ricki said. I couldn’t help but feel a swell of warm feelings for her. ‘I think he would be good for our group.’

  ‘Me talk,’ Max said.

  ‘Okay, Max,’ Tristan said. ‘Please tell us what you think.’

  Max rubbed his knees, and surveyed me with a very serious expression. ‘I want to welcome Shane to the group,’ he said. He had a slightly halting manner of speaking, and the slurring that often accompanies Down’s Syndrome. ‘I think he will be a good man to have with us.’

  Tristan repeated what Max was saying, to ensure I could understand him.

  ‘And to start,’ Max continued, ‘he can make some more tea.’

  A huge grin spreading across his face, Max made a drama of showing everyone his empty cup. The group, of course, thought this a fine joke, and there were calls from all sides for more tea.

  ‘What about you, Dominic?’ Beth asked. She was seated in her perennial position beside Tristan. ‘Would you like to welcome Shane to Drumlin, or do you think we have enough in the group?’

  Dominic smiled and formed his words carefully. ‘I like Shane,’ he said. Then, happy with this statement, almost as if he liked the sound of it: ‘I like Shane!’

  ‘Well that’s another vote of confidence,’ Tristan said.

  Annie, when it came to her turn, said not a word, but walked over and threw her arms about my neck. ‘Sweet boy,’ she said into my ear, quietly. ‘Nice man.’

  I was beginning to think this was all just a formality, when the first voice of dissent was raised. Elaine, a pretty girl with Down’s Syndrome, simply shrugged when asked about my joining the group. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know him.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s fair comment,’ Tristan said. ‘I have a suggestion: why don’t you ask Shane some questions about himself. You’ll answer truthfully, won’t you, Shane?’

  I looked at Tristan, aghast. A public interview had certainly not been part of my plans for the day. ‘Within reason,’ I said.

  ‘There you go, Elaine,’ Valerie said. ‘Here’s your chance to get to know Shane better.’

  ‘All right,’ Elaine said. ‘Why he want to come here?’

  ‘Ask him,’ Valerie said.

  Elaine levelled her gaze in my direction. She was short and plump, and dressed in a plaid skirt, a pink blouse and light blue cardigan. Her hair was cut in that unfortunate bowl style many parents of children with Down’s Syndrome seem to feel is attractive.

  ‘Well?’ Elaine said.

  ‘I think what you do here is quite special,’ I said. ‘I want to learn more about it.’

  ‘What you mean “what we do here”?’ Elaine shot back.

  ‘I’m impressed by watching you all work together. How you show one another respect. The way everyone has a part to play that is important. No one is seen as less or in any way… I don’t know…’

  ‘Handicapped?’ Elaine said tersely. ‘You wanna work wit the handicapped? Do it make you feel good?’

  Max stood up like a shot at that comment.

  ‘Me not handicapped!’ he said. ‘Elaine, no like that word!’

  ‘In the group everyone has a right to speak their mind,’ Tristan said. ‘You’ve hurt Max’s feelings, though, Elaine. I think you need to acknowledge how you’ve made him feel.’

  ‘Sorry, Max,’ the girl said, much more gently. ‘I not sayin’ you handicapped. Maybe it’s what he think, though.’

  All heads were turned in my direction. Inwardly cursing for letting myself be led into an ambush, I forced a smile onto my face. ‘Elaine, I don’t like that word either. I would never, ever call anyone here “handicapped”. I know that can make people feel bad about themselves, and that’s never right. But let me answer your question with a question of my own: does coming here make you feel good about yourself?’

  Elaine didn’t have to think about that. ‘Yeah. So?’

  ‘Well, I think you all know that I’m not from around this part of the country. I moved here from the city a little while ago. I suppose I was running away from some bad things that had happened to me.’

  ‘What kind of things?’ Joan, a girl who suffered from a very mild form of autism, asked.

  I weighed this question for a moment. How honest should I be?

  ‘I used to work with kids who were in trouble.’

  ‘Trouble with the police?’ Ricki asked.

  ‘Yes, some of them. But some had parents who were mean to them, and some had no parents at all and had to live in institutions, like you did, Ricki, and some had been hurt by people –’

  ‘Hurted how?’ Elaine wanted to know.

  ‘Some of them had been beaten a lot, and some had been… um… touched in a bad way.’

  ‘Him’s talkin’ about sex now,’ Elaine said matter-of-factly. ‘Them kids was sexually ’bused.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a bad thing to happen to anyone,’ Ricki said. ‘I knew a girl when I was livin’ with the nuns, and that happened to her in one place she stayed, and she wasn’t never right after that.’

  ‘My daddy’s pickin’ me up at four o’clock,’ Dominic said very solemnly.

  ‘And you helped these kids?’ Elaine said.

  ‘I tried to, yes. But sometimes, I wasn’t able to.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘All sorts of reasons. Sometimes they’d just been hurt too much. It didn’t matter how much me and my friends tried to make them feel better, they’d seen too much pain and they couldn’t hear what we had to say any more. Sometimes they were just too scared, and didn’t believe we were going to help. They thought we were just waiting for a chance to hurt them, too. And then there were times when I didn’t know what to do. I tried everything I could think of, and none of it worked.’

  ‘So you stopped doin’ that job?’ Ricki said.

  ‘Yes. It got so I didn’t think I was much good at it any more. So I came here, and I started to play music for a living, and then I met all of you and you were nice and friendly, and you invited me to lunch. And I got to thinking that it might
be pleasant to come to a place where people have smiles on their faces when they come in to work in the morning.’

  The room went quiet. Glen, the boy with bright red hair, broke the silence. ‘I didn’t have a smile coming in here this morning,’ he said. ‘I most surely did not.’

  ‘And why is that, Glen?’ Beth asked.

  ‘I wanted to stay at home and watch television. The Love Boat is being shown on UK TV Gold, and I would much prefer to be at home enjoying that show. Did you know they made a follow-up with the actor Robert Urich in the role of the captain?’

  ‘I did not know that,’ Beth admitted. ‘But, Glen, we were discussing whether or not you’d like Shane to join the group.’

  ‘Can you sing the theme song for The Love Boat?’ Glen asked.

  ‘I suppose I could,’ I said, bewildered.

  ‘I can sing it,’ Glen said. ‘If there are any lyrics you’re unsure of, come and talk to me.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. I will.’

  ‘Did you ever see The A-Team?’ Ricki asked Glen.

  ‘I did. Did you know the actor Mr T, who plays the character of B. A. Baracus in The A-Team, plays the baddie in the film Rocky III?’

  ‘Did he?’ Ricki asked, fascinated.

  ‘He did. That character is called Clubber Lang. He actually kills Rocky’s trainer, Mickey, who is played by the great actor Burgess Meredith, who is best known for his role as the Penguin in the Batman series…’

  And I was forgotten. I had, it seemed, passed the interview.

  When Tristan finally declared that the group was closed, and we were to clear up for craft, I felt myself relax. I had not realized quite how tense I had been during the discussion, but as we put the chairs away, it occurred to me, like clouds parting and the sun coming out, that I wanted powerfully to become a part of this place and these people.

  Lost in my thoughts for a few moments, I had not noticed Annie drifting over to me.