Finding Stevie, page 23
‘Yes?’ I said, sitting upright and switching on the bedside lamp.
‘Mrs Cathy Glass?’ a male voice asked.
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘I’m the duty sergeant at —.’ He named a police station in an area over 100 miles away. ‘I have Stevie Jones with me.’
‘What’s he doing there?’ I gasped. ‘Is he all right?’
‘Yes, he’s come to no harm. He’s been with us since nine o’clock yesterday evening when we brought him in, but he’s only just given us his real name and your telephone number.’
‘But what’s he doing there?’ I asked again.
‘He was caught on a train without a ticket, which is an offence. When the inspector asked for his name and address he refused to give them, so the police were called.’
‘Oh. But it’s miles from where we live. You know I reported him missing earlier?’
‘Yes, we do now, and I’ve taken him off the system. Once he’d given us his real name and contact details he came up on the police computer.’ It crossed my mind that the officer would probably have also seen Stevie was being investigated for sexting and taking and sending indecent images of minors. I wondered what he thought of Stevie.
‘Where was Stevie going?’ I asked.
‘He says he was lost. I will need you to come to the police station to collect him.’
I sighed. ‘All right, but it will take me at least two hours to get there.’ Foster carers are expected to collect – or make suitable arrangements to have collected – the young person they are fostering, from the police station or anywhere they might be stranded or couldn’t reasonably be expected to make their own way home.
‘That’s fine,’ the officer said. ‘He’ll be safe here until you arrive.’ I wondered if he was in a cell, but I didn’t ask. ‘Do you know where we are or do you need the postcode?’ the officer asked.
‘Postcode, please. Just a moment.’ I reached for the pad and pen on my bedside cabinet, then wrote the postcode he gave me. ‘Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
As I got out of bed I felt sick and dizzy, I assumed from worry and lack of sleep. I took a deep breath and began to dress. Had Stevie really got lost as he’d told the police? I doubted it. But where had he been going on the train without a ticket? I couldn’t begin to imagine. It was 4.20 a.m. as I went quietly downstairs. In the kitchen Sammy looked at me from his bed but sensibly stayed put. I poured a glass of water, drank half of it, and with the queasiness subsiding I sent a group text on WhatsApp to Adrian, Lucy and Paula: Stevie’s been found. Going to collect him in the car. Should be back by midday xxx. They would read the message when they checked their phones in the morning.
I finished the glass of water and then slipped on my shoes and jacket and quietly left the house. It was 4.30 a.m. and in May the sky was already growing light and birdsong could be heard coming from the trees and shrubbery. In my car I switched on the satnav and entered the postcode of the police station. The route showed it was mainly motorway and I started the engine, hoping I wouldn’t wake my family or the neighbours. Tiredness had left me now and adrenaline had kicked in. I was greatly relieved that Stevie had been found safe and well; I wasn’t angry with him, but I was very concerned. I wouldn’t tell him off; however, I would make sure he understood the worry he’d caused all of us, including his grandparents, who would have been informed he was missing again and had possibly been visited by the police. Also, and importantly, I needed to try to find out why Stevie had been on that train to stop it happening again. The officer hadn’t said Stevie was drunk or under the influence of drugs, so I assumed he wasn’t, but Stevie was in enough trouble without all this. It was set to get much worse.
The traffic was light at this time on a Saturday morning, and with no hold-ups I arrived outside the police station at 6.45 a.m. It was a modern two-storey building with a flat roof and lots of tinted glass windows. I went up the steps and pressed the buzzer as the CCTV overhead watched. The doors released and I stepped into the waiting area where a woman I guessed to be in her early twenties was sitting on one of the chairs, texting. She glanced up as I came in and then returned to her phone. Dressed up for a night out, she looked worse for wear with a shoe missing, dishevelled hair and smudged black mascara around her eyes.
I crossed to the officer at the desk. ‘Good morning,’ she said brightly.
I felt like replying, ‘Is it?’ But I managed a weak smile. ‘Cathy Glass. I’ve come to collect Stevie Jones. The duty sergeant telephoned a couple of hours ago.’
‘Yes, that would be my colleague,’ she said, tapping the keyboard and checking the screen. ‘You’re his foster carer?’
‘Yes.’
‘Take a seat and I’ll have someone fetch him.’
As I sat down opposite the woman her phone rang with a loud rap ringtone. ‘Where were you?’ she demanded as she answered. ‘I’ve been here ages.’ She fell silent as the caller spoke, then she said, ‘No, of course I can’t come on the bus, Mum, get real. I’ve lost me shoe.’ Another pause, then, ‘I haven’t got any money for a cab,’ she snapped rudely. She listened again and said, ‘OK,’ and cut the call. I then heard her ordering a cab, so I guessed her mum was picking up the bill.
Stevie appeared with a police officer, still in his school uniform and with his school bag over his shoulder. He looked pale and tired and there was a haunted look in his eyes. I went to them. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked, touching his arm. He managed a small nod.
‘Cathy Glass?’ the officer asked me.
‘Yes.’
‘Stevie is free to go now. The railway company will write in respect of him travelling without a valid ticket.’
Naively I asked, ‘Can we pay the fare and any fine now?’
‘No. We don’t deal with it,’ she said. ‘It’s a matter for the railway company. And I should warn you that this railway company have a policy of prosecuting fare evaders.’
‘Prosecuting!’ I said, horrified. ‘For not having a ticket?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ She nodded solemnly. ‘It’s theft.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lost
‘Whatever were you doing on that train without a ticket?’ I asked Stevie once we were outside the police station, unable to hide my annoyance.
He shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’
I opened the car doors and we got in. I looked at him sitting in the passenger seat. He turned on his phone.
‘Stevie, I’m talking to you,’ I said.
‘I know,’ he replied moodily.
‘Well, can you please answer me? I’ve been up all night worried sick. Then I have to drive over a hundred miles to collect you from a police station to be told you are likely to be prosecuted for fare evasion. Whatever made you do that?’
‘If you have a go at me, I’m off and this time for good,’ he threatened. He put his hand on the door as if about to get out.
‘OK, calm down. I’m worried that’s all. Fasten your seatbelt and we’ll go home.’ I started the engine, pressed Home on the satnav and pulled away. After a few minutes I said evenly, ‘Stevie, we need to find a way for you to deal with your feelings so you don’t have to run away.’
He shrugged and looked at his phone. As I drove all I could think about was that Stevie could be facing an additional prosecution – for not having a ticket. It would be another blot on his character, and one that could so easily have been avoided. Whatever had made him risk travelling on a train without a ticket? Where had he been going? Neither of us spoke for about ten minutes as I concentrated on driving and Stevie fiddled with his phone. Then, in an unthreatening manner, I asked, ‘Stevie, why were you on that train?’
He shrugged.
‘You must know, love. You’re not daft.’
‘I must be daft,’ he snapped, ‘getting into all this mess!’
‘No, you’re not, but we do need to talk about it. Where did you go after you left school yesterday? You couldn’t have been on the train all that time.’
‘I wandered around for a bit,’ he said, his voice flat, and still looking at his phone.
‘Have you been drinking?’ I couldn’t smell alcohol.
‘No.’
‘And you haven’t taken any drugs?’ Although Stevie had said he’d never take drugs because he’d seen what they’d done to his mother, he’d also said the same about alcohol, but had come home drunk.
‘No.’
‘So why did you get on that train?’ I asked.
‘Dunno.’
‘Stevie, I’m trying to understand so I can help you, but you’re not making it easy for me.’
‘So don’t try,’ he said bad-temperedly.
I glanced at him; head down, he was looking at his phone, although he didn’t appear to be doing anything with it – a distraction rather than talking to me. The police officer had said that the railway company would write, I assumed to Stevie. Verity would need to know, and probably so too would his grandparents.
‘Stevie, when the letter from the railway company arrives, make sure you show it to me. Don’t just ignore it, tempting though that might be. It won’t go away. We will need to deal with it.’
He didn’t reply for some time, then suddenly said, ‘I was lost. I didn’t know where I was.’
‘How did you get lost?’ I asked.
There was another long pause, then he looked up and, staring straight ahead, began to tell me. ‘I was really pissed off when I came out of school yesterday. It was Friday and I always used to play with Kiri and Liam on a Friday after school, and take them out over the weekend. It hurt, remembering. I wandered around the town, then caught a bus to the city train station. It was busy and I sat there watching people – some of them were families going away. The trains kept leaving and I thought how good it would be to just get on a train and keep going and never stop. Leave the mess I’d made of my life behind. It was easy getting on the train without a ticket, but then the inspector got on at one of the stations we stopped at and asked to see tickets, and of course I didn’t have one.’
I nodded.
‘I was lost, Cathy. I didn’t know where I was and wanted to stay lost. Away from everything for ever.’
‘I think I understand,’ I said.
‘The ticket inspector was really nasty. Everyone was looking. He took me off the train and because I refused to give him my name and address, he called the police. I gave them a name but not my real one.’
‘Surely you must have known they’d check the details you gave them on their computer and see they were false?’
‘I didn’t really think about it. I knew I was in trouble, so giving them a false name delayed it.’
‘Delayed me finding out?’
‘Yes, and Gran and Grandpa, and everyone else I’ve let down. Kiri and Liam used to look up to me. What a shit brother I turned out to be!’
‘Stevie, I’m sure they don’t think like that,’ I said gently.
‘What else can they think? I’m the reason they’re in care.’
I glanced at him. He looked close to tears. Despite everything I’d said, he was still blaming himself. I needed to stay constructive to try to help. ‘Stevie, I know you’ve made some mistakes, but it’s not all your fault and it’s not the end of the world. This dark time will pass, I promise you. But there are some things we can do to help.’
‘Like what?’ he asked gloomily.
‘Verity has talked to you about seeing a counsellor at CAMHS and I think that would be useful now. Also, I’m going to ask her if she can speak to the police to find out when their investigation will be complete. It’s dreadful having it hanging over you all this time at your age.’
‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘But supposing the police decide to prosecute me? I could be found guilty and go to prison.’
‘That is the worst that could happen, but it’s not inevitable. If the police do prosecute, you will have a good lawyer to speak up for you. And Stevie, whatever happens, I will still support you.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, his voice trembling.
When we were halfway home I stopped at a service station for something to eat and drink. Neither of us had eaten since yesterday and I needed a coffee to help me concentrate. Stevie said very little as we ate and he looked shattered. It was 8.30 a.m. as we finished our breakfasts and a WhatsApp message arrived on my phone from Paula, first awake. Are you OK, Mum?
I messaged back: Yes. Stevie is with me. Stopped off for something to eat. Will be home in an hour or so. Love you xxx.
Love you too xxx.
In the car again, Stevie soon fell asleep and I continued the journey with only my thoughts for company. They weren’t good. I found myself thinking back to when Stevie had first arrived and had settled in so well. How long ago and far away that time seemed. Now we appeared be on a downward spiral, going from bad to worse. I had formed the impression in talking to Stevie that he felt he had nothing left to lose, which is a dangerous place to be. Having lost everything he valued and held dear, he had no reason to behave, conform, cooperate, do his school work, socialise or see a future. He’d be at the mercy of dark, impulsive and irrational behaviour. I’m a glass-half-full type of person, but I needed to know what we were facing so I could meet the challenge and help him. I thought that even if the worst-case scenario happened and Stevie was sent to a young offenders’ institution, it wouldn’t be forever. With support he would come through it, but we needed to know what we were dealing with. The uncertainty was crippling me, as I was sure it was him.
Stevie only woke when I drew up outside my house and cut the engine. It was 10 a.m. He yawned and stretched as he got out of the car. I let us in and he said he was going to bed and went straight upstairs to his room. Paula was up and dressed and eating toast in the living room. She was relieved to see me and wanted to know what had happened in the night. She was as surprised as I had been that the railway company prosecuted fare evaders rather than simply fining them. When Adrian and Lucy came downstairs, they too wanted to know what had been going on. ‘You should have woken me,’ Adrian said, ‘rather than drive all that way by yourself.’
‘I’m OK. At least Stevie is back safely.’
‘But for how long?’ Lucy sighed.
We talked for a while and then I made a coffee and phoned the social services to advise them that Stevie had been found and was now at home with me. The duty social worker took brief details of where and when, and I said the police had taken him off their missing persons’ register. Once we’d finished, and while it was still fresh in my mind, I went into the front room and emailed Verity with an update so she would have it first thing on Monday morning. I included that Stevie was now willing to see a counsellor at CAMHS, and also asked her if she could find out from the police the outcome of their investigation as I felt Stevie’s behaviour was in part due to all the uncertainty.
Stevie slept most of Saturday. I dozed on the sofa for about twenty minutes. Around five o’clock I heard him get up and shower, and he came down and joined Paula, Lucy and me for dinner. Adrian was having dinner with Kirsty. Stevie was quiet, sullen and withdrawn, despite the girls trying to include him in the conversation. Straight after dinner he returned to his room, and I checked on him periodically during the evening. He didn’t want to talk or join us downstairs but said he was OK. I told him I’d emailed Verity and I hoped he would be able to see a therapist before too long. The last time I checked on him was around 9.30 when I went up to bed. He had his earbuds in and was listening to music and said he’d be getting into bed soon too. I’d left Paula and Lucy downstairs watching a film. Exhausted, I quickly fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until just before eight the next morning.
I was the first one up, not unusual for a Sunday morning, so I went quietly downstairs and fed Sammy and made myself a coffee. About an hour later I heard Stevie moving around in his room and then he came down and had some breakfast. I asked him if he’d like to do something today, maybe go to the cinema, ice-skating or swimming at the leisure centre. I said I was sure that Lucy and Paula would join us. He said he wasn’t in the mood and, having finished his breakfast, he returned to his bedroom. Ten minutes later I heard him come downstairs again. I was in the kitchen and before I realised what he was doing he’d let himself out of the front door. I rushed out and onto the pavement in time to see him running up the street. I’d need my car to try to catch up with him and I returned indoors for my car keys. As I did my mobile sounded with a text message. I quickly checked it. It was from Stevie: Don’t try to find me, I need to be alone. After everything I’d said about talking about his feelings rather than running away!
I took my car to the top of the road and into the high street, then drove around the area, but Stevie was nowhere to be seen, so I returned home. Given how low Stevie was feeling, I was even more worried now than when he’d previously run away. I tried his phone but it went through to voicemail, so I left a message asking him to call me so we could talk. I doubted he would. I then sat in the living room and phoned the social services and explained I needed to speak to the duty social worker as a matter of urgency. There’d been another change of shift and a woman social worker unfamiliar with Stevie’s case was on duty and returned my call. I explained what had happened, and when I said I thought Stevie could harm himself, she told me to phone the police and report him missing straight away.
As I ended the call, Lucy, who’d been listening to music in her bedroom, came into the living room. ‘Stevie’s not in his room,’ she said.
‘I know. He’s gone again.’
‘Idiot!’ she snapped.
‘Lucy, that’s not helping.’
She flounced off. I took a deep breath and phoned the police. By the time I’d finished reporting Stevie missing, Lucy had calmed down and returned to the living room to apologise. ‘Sorry,’ she said, kissing my cheek. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you too. I know this is worrying for us all, especially Stevie.’
Adrian and Paula appeared and offered to go out to look for him. ‘We could try that park near his gran’s again,’ Paula suggested.
