Chapter 3: back on track

I hung around the hospital, for some reason figuring she would need me to be there when they were done with her. Fenshaw had indicated she would be taking Kirsty to the social services offices afterwards, hoping to get her to open up a bit more and then take action against the father if appropriate.

I was nervously looking at my watch, as I knew I had classes to teach still. Having other teachers cover your lessons gets old quick. They resent the extra duties and often you have to spend the next lessons unpicking all the bad habits they had passed on. I had a healthy Scottish Presbyterian work ethic and right now it was urging me to get back to the 'chalk face'.

Eventually they were finished looking her over, with the verdict that nothing was broken, there were no serious internal injuries and no permanent damage had been done. Kirsty told me they had taken pictures of her injuries and I guessed these would be used as evidence if any charges were forthcoming. I didn't have long with her before Mrs Fenshaw whisked her away, just long enough to encourage her to be strong, to stand up for herself and then she was off.

I had to take a taxi back to the school and arrived with barely enough time to prepare for my next lesson. Focussing on the learning outcomes was difficult as the vivid image of her battered and bruised young body returned in my head over and over. That level of violence was just alien to me, abhorrent. I somehow managed to get through the rest of the day and drove home almost on autopilot.

My glass of wine that evening left a sour taste in my mouth. I looked round my comfortable sitting room, modern, every gadget a young single male might want and most of all - secure. I realised how lucky I was to have had a stable upbringing, loving parents and relative affluence.

Kirsty had none of those advantages yet she had shown she was capable of pulling herself up, of rising to the huge challenges and making a better future for herself. Now her fucking asshole of an alcoholic father was in danger of undermining all of that. Months and months of her hard work was seemingly seeping away almost as her strength seeped away with each blow he gave her. I realised I was squeezing my wineglass with significant force as my anger welled up and I had to make a conscious effort to relax.

The Head sent a note to ask to meet with him in his office around mid-morning the next day. When I entered the room it was to find Brenda Fenshaw already seated, a cup of coffee on the desk in front of her. Henderson told me to take a seat and he poured me a coffee too.

"Ken, Mrs Fenshaw and her colleagues spent most of the afternoon with Kirsty but couldn't get her to implicate her father in relation to her injuries. Kirsty remained adamant that she had been attacked by one of the girls from this school. As a result, social services had to return Kirsty to her home last night."

"That's appalling!" I cut him off, "she as much as admitted it to me, is my word not good enough?"

"I'm afraid a court would rule it inadmissible. You only heard it second hand. What did Kirsty actually tell you?"

I tried to replay my conversation with Kirsty back in my head. I realised that at no point had she actually confirmed her father had been to blame for her condition.

"Look, she didn't actually say he did it, but the look on her face after I asked the question was answer enough. You've been there Headmaster; you know when you've hit the nail on the head. And afterwards, all her talk was about being scared of losing her father too, it was obvious she has been trying to cover up for him."

"That might well be the case," said Fenshaw, "but unless she actually comes out and confirms he has assaulted her there is little we can do."

"This is ridiculous! Now I know why we keep seeing these stories in the news about abuse, you've knowingly put that young girl back into a situation where she is being severely beaten. How can you look at yourself in the mirror? What will it take to get you to take action? More broken bones?" I raged.

"Don't try and tell me how to do my job young man! Look at you, one abused teenager and you're on your moral high horse. You don't know the half of it. Every day I have to deal with kids from broken homes, kids with parents that are out of their minds on heroin most of the time, kids who barely see their parents from one day to the next and don't know where the next meal is coming from. I see ten; twenty Kirsty's everyday and I do the best I can for every one of them. I see kids as young as five or six looking after their baby brothers or sisters - going out to steal baby food and nappies and not a parent in sight. I find it's easy to look at myself in the mirror because I do the best job I can. What I do find it difficult to do is sleep at night."

I was rocked back by the strength of feeling in her outburst; by the way the air almost became heavier around me due to the weight of her words and the despair they described. The pictures she conjured up in just a few sentences painted a world that I was thankful I didn't have more experience of, more contact with. I realised that she was right and I had become so personally involved in the situation with Kirsty that I wasn't being objective anymore. I also realised my comments were completely unfair given what she had to deal with and I apologised.

"Look, we talked to Kirsty's father last night, gave him a rough time. He knows we suspect him and if past performance is anything to go by, her trouble will stop for a while. We've never been able to pin anything on him but I think she really will be safe for now. Okay? You seem to have gained her trust. When I spoke with her yesterday it's clear that she sees you as the first person in a very long time, possibly ever, who has shown an interest in helping her. In many ways she has supplanted her real father with you as a father figure. You need to be understanding and support her if you can. I can't over emphasise how key your relationship with Kirsty might be. I also have to warn you that she is a young girl and her emotions are very mixed up right now. She might start to come on to you sexually and you will need to be able to let her down gently or risk her feeling rejected all over again. Do you think you can handle that?"

It was a lot to consider. I had started out on this as simply thinking I was doing what I would do for any pupil. I now seemed to be a part time social worker and I wasn't sure that I was comfortable about getting more central to Kirsty's issues. I looked at the Head and he simply shrugged his shoulders. I reluctantly agreed, but still expressed concerns over Kirsty remaining at home. I had to make do with Fenshaw's promise that they would be dropping in to pay Mr MacLeod a visit every now and then over the next few months to continue to make the point he was under suspicion.

Kirsty dropped by my classroom at the end of the day. Her eyes were still red-rimmed from all the crying she had been doing and even now she seemed close to tears once more.

"I'm sorry sir, I couldn't do it. I just know they'll take dad away and I'm not strong enough to deal with that. I've let you down I know but please try to understand?" She got out in a rush.

"Kirsty the most important thing is that you're safe. I want you to promise me that you'll leave the house if he seems to be getting violent again, don't wait until it's too late, just get out. I know it's tough with everything that's been going on, but you also need to try and hit the books again if you feel up to it. You've only got three weeks before your exams and you've some ground to make up."

She rushed forward and hugged me close.

"I promise sir, honest!"

I absently stroked her hair, holding her head to my chest; just trying to give her some comfort and support. She looked up at me and there was the beginning of a smile on her face again.

"Okay, off with you, and work hard okay?"

It was surprising just how easy it seemed for her to drop back into her previous way of working. It was almost like she could flip a switch and turn off her memories of the abuse somehow and get back into the study habits she had begun to develop. I checked in with her teachers over the next few weeks and they all gave her the thumbs up, indicating they thought she would do well in the forthcoming exams.

I saw Kirsty several times during the exams as I had invigilator duty on a number of the papers she sat. Although she beamed me her usual big smile she was clearly focussed and very businesslike. I secretly hoped she would get good marks to help re-inforce the changes she was making in her life.

Mrs Fenshaw dropped by the school once more to confirm that social services were calling on Mr MacLeod and that everything seemed as well as could be expected at home, as well as could be expected with a man who was drinking a litre of cheap vodka every day. She was a little worried at my description of Kirsty being able to switch off the abuse, worried that she might somehow be bottling things up and going into denial. She suggested I let Kirsty get her exams out of the way and then try to get her to open up a little more on how she was really handling things. I wasn't sure that was a great idea, but decided Fenshaw was the expert and said I would give it a go.

Over the course of the next week I had a procession of Kirsty's teachers come to see me to share her results from the exams. They were all delighted, as she had scored well and in the standard grade exam itself would have received credits in all her subjects. The count over the six main subjects was four twos and two ones - a great set of results for anybody to achieve, but given the level she had come from they were truly remarkable.

There's nothing like an 'under-performing pupil turns things round and achieves great results' story to get teachers excited. It's what we live for and now Kirsty had brought huge smiles and a fair degree of pride in their work for each of her teachers. I had to admit to feeling a great deal of personal pride at the part I had played too. God that girl was good!

I knew the school was going to share the third year exam results on the Friday of the following week. After that the classes would change timetables to those that would apply for their fourth year. I knew that I was taking the fourth year standard grade class and therefore it looked like I would have Kirsty to teach on the lead up to these important milestones in her life. I admitted to myself that I was looking forward to having her around more.

The day the results were given out I fully expected to see her and she didn't disappoint me. She did leave me hanging for a bit by waiting until the end of the day before she once more burst into my classroom and threw herself into my arms in another full-body hug. As before my hands went automatically to her little butt cheeks to take her weight and she reached up and planted one soft kiss on my lips.

I dropped her as if I had been scalded and she laughed loudly at my panic.

"Oh sir, you are just so easy! Did you hear about my results? Two ones and four twos - isn't that fantastic?"

From her response I realised she had been deliberately teasing me to see if she could get a reaction and I had obviously satisfied her on that score. I recovered myself with some difficulty and congratulated her on her results.

"Well done Kirsty, exactly what you deserve for all the work you've put in. I was particularly pleased to see your highest mark was in business management."