No Place for Nathan Read Online Free PDF Page A

though, in walking Nathan home, I’d given him the opportunity to voice something that he might not have found the courage to in school. And when the end of the day came around, I was even more dismayed to take a call from the social worker who’d apparently seen my report.
    His name was Martin and he’d had dealings with the family for some time, and was keen, it seemed, to reassure me that all was well.
    â€˜I need to explain a couple of things,’ he said, having introduced both himself and his credentials. ‘And they are that, first of all, I don’t believe that Nathan has any psychological problems really. In fact, we believe that he is attention seeking, as does his stepfather.’
    I took this on board, resisting the urge to ask him if he’d had sight of the overdue psychologist’s report. My guess was not, since I hadn’t seen it yet myself and it had been the primary school rather than social services that had ordered it.
    â€˜Secondly,’ he went on, ‘we don’t believe Nathan’s telling the truth about his dad hurting him. He’s a clumsy child – I’ve witnessed this myself when I’ve visited the family. You might well have noticed that yourself.’
    I told him I hadn’t, but, in fairness, I’d not known Nathan long. It wasn’t my place to presume I knew more than he did, after all. ‘So what are your thoughts?’ I asked, braced for the sort of response that what he’d told me already seemed to be hinting at.
    â€˜We think the family have poor social skills, basically,’ he said, ‘and that because neither parent works, they do live very poorly. They’re not the brightest of people, clearly, but we feel they’re essentially coping – doing their best in unfortunate circumstances. So, as I’m sure you’d agree, we really don’t want to go wellying in, guns blazing, though if you feel strongly that we need to have some continued input in this situation, then we’ll obviously do so,’ he finished.
    Which left me at something of a loss. Of course no one wanted social services ‘wellying in’, as he put it, making pariahs of poor, innocent parents. But something stuck in my craw. If they weren’t earning then why weren’t they ever at home? And another thing – weren’t there grounds for accepting Nathan’s words as truth? It was hardly as if he’d been eager to broadcast it to the world, was it? He hadn’t told me it at all – that had been Jenny.
    But perhaps that would be lost on the man I was currently speaking to. He clearly had his own views on the subject. I took a deep breath.
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, ‘I
would
like social services to take some action, because though I obviously respect your views, I don’t share them. I have a strong gut instinct that something isn’t right here. I’ll obviously continue to work with Nathan and support him while in school, but yes, I’d be grateful,’ I said again, ‘if you could as well.’
    He promised he would, but his tone seemed to suggest differently, and when I put down the phone I realised my hands were shaking.
    By the time I reached the staff room, in search of caffeine and solace, my dismay had worked itself up into anger. Fortunately, Julia Styles, the special needs co-ordinator, was one of my soulmates at work and as she was already in there I cornered her and offloaded all my angst.
    When I finished she was smiling sympathetically. ‘You remind me of a little pit bull,’ she observed. ‘You get your teeth into something and you won’t let go, come hell or high water.’ Her expression changed then. ‘But, you know, Casey, all you can really do is
your
job. Be there for Nathan, report any single thing that makes you uneasy and trust that, ultimately, social services will also do theirs.’
    â€˜But what if they don’t?’