Page 150 of Don't Tell Teacher

‘And Tom Kinnock made a full statement? A video interview?’

‘Not yet, but he will,’ I say. ‘We don’t need it, anyway. The police found medication in the mother’s bag. Heart medication. Malaria tablets.’

‘There’ll be a court case, then. A lot of work.’

‘I know.’

‘Just make sure you don’t leave anything out,’ says Tessa. ‘I’ve known parents to walk away from a prison sentence before. And some of them even get custody of the child again.’

‘Yes. Yes, I know. I’ll make sure it’s locked up tight.’ I look up at her. ‘Thank you. For going above and beyond. We’d never have got Tom back if you hadn’t made that phone call.’

I feel Tessa’s heavy, slightly awkward hand on my shoulder. ‘You went above and beyond too. More than above and beyond. Listen, well done you. We see a lot in this job, but medical child abuse … well, I mean, it’s very unusual. I had two journalists on the phone this morning, wanting me to explain it. I told them I didn’t understand it myself. I’ve never come across real-life Munchausen syndrome by proxy.’

‘They call it Fabricated or Induced Illness these days.’

Tessa waves the comment away. ‘Makes no sense to me whatsoever.’

‘She liked being in control,’ I say. ‘The power and the attention. It’s a personality disorder. A type of psychopath. She probably had an awful childhood herself.’

‘Shocking that so many social workers missed this,’ says Tessa, fiddling with her Nespresso machine.

‘Not really. Who had time to look into it properly?’

‘You did. Ignored the paperwork and did your job properly. How many nights’ sleep have you missed now? Look, do you want another one of these Nespressos, then? I’m just making a cup.’

Tessa has never offered to make me a hot drink before, let alone from her precious Nespresso machine.

I see this as a breakthrough in our working relationship.

I manage a worn-out smile. ‘Yes, that would be great.’

‘Don’t worry about getting me some more – I’ve got an emergency stash under my desk.’ Tessa winks. ‘I imagine the newspapers will be mounting a furious attack on social services. Demanding to know how this could have been missed for so long. I mean, it was all there. The constant hospital visits. Unexplained seizures. Physical injuries.’

‘Lizzie was a very good liar. She sold a better, more believable story – that she was the angelic mother, obsessed with Tom’s health and wellbeing. And she manipulated a confession out of Tom – don’t forget that.’

‘But surely someone should have noticed something fishy about her.’

‘I don’t blame the other social workers,’ I say. ‘We barely have time for a cup of tea. Not enough funding. Not enough staff. If Tom hadn’t had a moment of courage—’

‘You did a decent job.’ Tessa gives me another clumsy pat on the shoulder. ‘Listen, maybe all the court business won’t be as bad as you think. Getting the kids to stop protecting their parents – that’s the hard part. And you’ve done that, haven’t you?’

‘Yes. It looks that way.’

‘Awful, awful woman. Bring back hanging. Pure evil is what she is.’

Sometimes, I wonder if Tessa is right for this job. Social work isn’t black and white, good and bad. But on the other hand, her no-nonsense outlook has probably saved her from a nervous breakdown.

And she did just offer me one of her Nespressos.

Maybe there’s hope for us yet.

Olly

‘Okay, buddy?’ I fasten Tom into his coat, hanging his new bag around his shoulders.

Tom admires it in the hallway mirror, grinning in his school uniform.

Tom and I live in a new house a few roads from his school. It would have been too disruptive to move him again, so I moved instead.

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