Page 42 of Worth the Wait
Alfie gave a grunt that barely passed for a response and sank lower in his chair, hoodie tugged halfway over his face as if he wanted to disappear into it.
Mr Ellison nodded, still wearing that calm, measured expression teachers must be trained in. Kind, but firm enough to make it clear the kid had to meet them halfway.
“That’s all we’re asking,” he said. “This isn’t a punishment. It’s a reset button. But only if you want it, Alfie.”
Nathan swallowed.Wantwasn’t the problem.
He wasn’t even sure Alfieknewwhat he wanted anymore.
“Answer the man,” Nathan said, and caught the terseness in his own tone too late. It wasthatvoice. The one he’d used in the field. With lads too cocky, too green, too close to getting themselves killed. It had no place in a school office. No place between him and his kid.
He exhaled slowly, grounding himself.
What he needed now wasn’t command. Or control. It was a connection. What Nathan hadn’t ever had with his own dad. And he wasn’t entirely sure how to build it. But he was here. He’d shown up. Maybe that was where it started.
Mr Ellison studied Alfie for a long beat, then shifted to address Nathan. And for a moment, behind the teacher expression and school-issue glasses, Nathan saw the man beneath. The human. And sympathy, maybe. Understanding. As if he wanted to say something but couldn’t without stepping outside his professional remit.
Then, Mr Ellison said, “Alfie? Could you give me and your dad a moment, please?”
Alfie glanced between them, uncertain. Nathan gave him a single nod. “Wait outside. I’ll drive us home.”
With a grunt, Alfie grabbed his bag and slouched out, clipping the edge of a desk with his hip on the way. Nathan’s eyes followed him until the door clicked shut.
Mr Ellison exhaled. “Ordinarily, I prefer transparency. Saying everything in front of the student where possible. Helps build trust. Ownership. But in this case…” He paused. “Some of what I need to raise falls under formal safeguarding.”
Nathan tensed. “Right. Go on.”
“You’ll be hearing from our safeguarding lead shortly. Mrs Patel. She’s coordinating a MASH response around Alfie.”
Nathan’s stomach dropped. “Because of what happened at the weekend?”
“Yes.” Mr Ellison’s tone stayed calm but firm. “And there are risk indicators we can’t ignore. The arrest at the weekend triggered an automatic flag. Combined with other concerns raised from staff. His behaviour in class, reluctance to engage, isolation. He’s now on the Multi-Agency Safeguarding Hub radar. The police officer attached to the school’s panel has already reviewed his file.”
Nathan swallowed. “He’s been here a week.”
Mr Ellison leaned forward, clamping his hands together on the table. “Last month, our Year Nines attended a safeguarding workshop. Gang culture, knife crime, county lines. Since then, we’ve been watching more carefully. And Alfie fits several of the risk factors. Not because of what he’s done. But because of how he’sseen.”
Nathan clenched his jaw.
“What we’ve observed just in this short space of time is that he’s on the fringes of a known group. Not embedded. Not beyond reach. But drifting. And once that drift becomes a pull…” Mr Ellison’s expression turned grave. “We lose control of what happens outside the school gates.”
Nathan’s throat dried. “So what now?”
“We’re not at Child Protection yet,” Mr Ellison said carefully. “But a Strategy Meeting is being arranged. Police, social care, education. All involved. You’ll be formally invited as Alfie’s legal guardian.”
Nathan bristled. “So what? You’re all sitting in a room deciding if I can keep my own son?”
He’d already taken him away from his mother. From his friends. Now Nathan was in danger of losing him completely. To the system. A system he wasn’t sure he trusted.
“No.” Mr Ellison shook his head. “The meeting isn’t about blame. It’s about protection. Support. We want to workwithyou. But I’d strongly recommend allowing us to make an Early Help referral in the meantime. It’s the step before anything more serious. He could get a keyworker. Structured mentoring. Something stable outside school hours.”
Nathan stared at him. Thought about Romford. About empty nights and unreturned calls. About the boy he was trying, desperately, to save.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay. Do it.”
“Thank you, Mr Carter. I know this is a lot to take in. But it’s the right start.”
They stood. Shook hands. Nathan’s grip was firm, but his shoulders were still tight. He hated how this felt like a battlefield with no clear enemy. Hated even more that his kid was already caught in the crossfire.
